The explosion had rattled his skull, sending him into darkness. When Arthur came to, his ears were ringing, his vision blurred. Smoke filled the underground passage, the heat of the flames pressing against his skin.
"Mike...?" he coughed, pushing himself up. No answer.
Had the kid gone ahead? Or was he buried under debris? Arthur searched, but the fire was spreading too fast. If Mike had made it out, he'd have to trust the kid could handle himself. If not... well, Arthur wasn't doing him any good dead.
With a grunt, he turned back. The sanatorium was a death trap. Whatever secrets it held weren't worth burning alive for.
Cold air hit his face as he stumbled outside, gasping. The night was quiet now, the storm having passed. In the distance, a fire tower stood against the moonlight.
Arthur exhaled sharply. "Ain't this just my damn luck..."
If there was any chance of finding Mike—or getting answers—that tower was his best bet. He adjusted his gambler hat, reloaded his revolver, and started walking.
******
Emily wiped her tears with a shaking hand. Matt was dead.
Stupid, reckless Matt. He'd killed deer like an idiot, and the herd had rammed him off the cliff. She hadn't loved him—not really—but she hadn't wanted this.
Now she was alone.
The lodge was a nightmare. Their friends were dead or missing, slaughtered by some psycho in a mask. She and Matt had run for help, but now...
She sniffed, tightening her jacket. The fire tower. If she could just get there, call for help—
Footsteps.
Her breath hitched. "M-Matt...?"
The man who stepped into view was not Matt.
He was older, rugged, with sharp eyes under the brim of a gambler hat. His dark blue shotgun coat was buttoned up against the cold, his boots crunching in the snow. A revolver hung at his hip.
Emily tensed, backing up. "Who the hell are you?"
The man raised his hands slightly. "Easy, miss. Name's Arthur Morgan." His voice was rough but calm. "Ain't here to hurt ya."
She didn't relax. "How do I know that?"
"Fair question," he admitted. "But if I wanted you dead, you'd already be bleedin'."
A grim point, but a valid one.
After a tense silence, Emily exhaled. "My boyfriend—Matt—he's dead. We were at the lodge with our friends, but... someone killed one of them. A psycho. We ran to get help, but then..." She gestured helplessly toward the cliff.
Arthur's jaw tightened. "You know a fella named Mike? Girl named Jess?"
Her eyes widened. "Yeah. They're my friends. Why?"
He told her everything—the sanatorium, the wolves, Jess being taken, the explosion.
Emily paled. "Then... if a psycho killed my friend at the lodge... who the hell was the guy in the sanatorium?"
Arthur's grip clenched his fists. "That's what I aim to find out."
Emily studied him—the weariness in his eyes, the quiet strength in his stance. He wasn't like the boys she knew. There was something steadier about him.
"You're heading to the fire tower?" she asked.
"Yep."
"...Mind if I come with you?"
Arthur gave her a long look, then nodded. "Long as you keep up."
The wind howled around them as they ascended the rickety ladders of the fire tower, each gust threatening to rip them from the metal rungs. Emily went first, her fingers gripping tight as she climbed.
"Ugh, why is it so windy all of a sudden?" she grunted, hair whipping across her face.
Arthur, just below her, smirked. "Ain't you heard? Mountains got a sense of humor. Likes to mess with folks when they're already strugglin'."
Emily shot him a look over her shoulder. "That supposed to be funny?"
"Was tryin' to be," he admitted.
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "Try harder, cowboy."
They reached the top, Emily shoving open the hatch and hauling herself inside. Arthur followed, locking the hatch behind them with a heavy clunk.
"You okay?" he asked, scanning the small, cluttered room.
Emily exhaled, rubbing her arms. "Yeah..."
Her eyes landed on a missing poster taped inside a locker.
Hannah Washington stared back at her—brown eyes, glasses, a butterfly tattoo on her shoulder.
"Sorry, Hannah," Emily whispered, touching the paper. "You're still missing."
Arthur watched her for a moment before turning his attention to the rest of the room.
Emily rummaged through the locker and pulled out a flare gun. "Here we go." She tucked it into the waistband of her jeans.
Next, she found the fuse box and yanked the switch.
"Fuck yeah! Here we go."
Lights flickered to life, the radio humming with power.
Arthur's gaze drifted over the equipment—strange machines, blinking lights, things he'd never seen before.
2014.
The poster had said 2014.
His chest tightened. Over a hundred years in the future.
His eyes flicked to Emily—her tight jeans, her fitted top, the way modern clothes clung to her in a way that would've scandalized folks back in his time.
She looks damn good in 'em, though.
He cleared his throat and turned away, pressing a random button on the nearest machine.
A printer whirred to life, spitting out another poster.
Beth Washington. Pink jacket, white beanie, same face as Hannah.
Emily's breath hitched. "Sorry you're still missing too, Beth."
******
Emily adjusted the radio dials, static crackling.
"—ranger service for Blackwood County. Over."
She grabbed the mic. "Hello?? Anyone there? Hello! Please say something if you're out there, please we need help!! Over! Over!!! Shit."
A pause. Then—
"...Hello?"
"Oh my god! Thank god! We need help, please!"
"...Hello is someone trying to contact us? This is the park ranger service for Blackwood County. I'm not getting your signal very well. Please speak slowly and clearly, over."
Emily's words tumbled out in a frantic rush. "Please! Please please please help! Oh my god we're stuck on Blackwood Mountain and there's a maniac—"
"... If you can hear this, please repeat your message as I am unable to understand what you are saying, over."
Arthur placed a steady hand on her shoulder. "Slow down. Give 'em what they need."
She took a shaky breath. "We're on... Blackwood Mountain... by the ski lodge... there's a killer and he's already killed one of our friends. Oh, God, please help, you've got to help us!!"
Outside, a security light flicked on.
"I read you, ma'am. Please do not leave your position. We will send out helicopters to get you as soon as the storm has subsided, over."
"What? When? How long?"
"Dawn, at the earliest. Not until dawn, over."
A sudden BANG rattled the hatch.
Emily jumped. "Oh, my God, he's here! He's coming for me!"
Silence. Then—
SNAP.
One of the tower's support cables sheared apart.
"Oh, my God, Arthur, what is happening?!"
"It's the damn tower!" he snarled.
Metal groaned. The world tilted.
"OH, GOD!" Emily screamed as the structure collapsed, slamming sideways into the mountain.
Emily crashed against the window, glass cracking beneath her. Arthur clung to a beam, his grip white-knuckled.
"NO!"
"Calm down!" Arthur barked.
"HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO BE CALM?!"
"LET ME THINK!"
Emily rolled away as the printer smashed through the window—then screamed as she fell through, barely catching the side bars.
"Fuck me. Jesus shit!"
The printer (and the radio) tumbled into the abyss below.
"Shit! Ahh! No, don't! No!"
Arthur's heart pounded. "Oh, shit!"
Then—with a final, deafening CRASH—the fire tower plummeted into the mines below.