Feared

Forty-One: Tough Love

Matt leaned back in his chair and gazed up at the stars peeking through the branches overhead. They had stopped for a few hours in the shell of what was probably once a hunting cabin. It offered little shelter, its roof only half intact. A fallen tree lay across one end of it, ivy entwining its frame, claiming it back for nature. Yet it seemed as good a place as any for them to stop and rest. The evening had been clear and warm, and Charlotte, who still maintained that they were being followed, had been too tired to argue anymore.

The others had taken refuge inside the scrappy remains of the cabin, while Matt had set up for the first watch. Exhaustion clouded his mind, but he was able to battle through. If Charlotte was right and they were being pursued, then he had a duty to protect them. At least it felt like he was offering something to the group, instead of being the weak tag along.

The fire that Ian had set had long since burnt down, though the black embers still clung to some life. Smoke hung in the air, a faint reminder of the warmth it had provided in the evening, but now the tired chill of night had taken its place.

The chair groaned as Matt shifted his weight. It was too light a piece of furniture to contain much strength, too long exposed to harsh weather and forgotten time to deal with much movement or weight.

Even though they had covered what seemed like a great distance, the trees were still thick. Yet, Matt knew that it couldn't be long before they began to thin and they were out in the open, in populated areas, places they would be recognised. The world was hunting them. They couldn't just blend in, not with Charlotte among them.

Matt sighed, his thoughts lingering on Charlotte for the briefest of moments. It was strange how things had changed, how she had changed. Losing James, or James losing his memory, had broken her. She was a shell of the girl he had loved. He paused, thinking of his use of the past tense. He had loved her, and he still loved her, but not like he had. She was caught in the past, haunted by it. He couldn't see the girl he had taken from Kingston. And maybe he wasn't meant to. Perhaps this was the closure he needed, to see there was no possible future with her, no future he could happily live with anyway, knowing that had James still showed an iota of love for her, she would still be by his side.

He shook his head, dislodging the thoughts. It didn't matter now. He had to look forward, look to what was coming next. He frowned down at the piece of paper that sat in his lap. He had retraced the words north over and over again, as if that would bring memories of his first trip to Nicholls' house back to him, but it didn't. All that came to him were memories of panic and anger and snow and darkness. He hadn't paid attention to where he had gone and if Charlotte was right, if Nicholls had indeed bought The Mimic, then it was a good place to start. If she was wrong, well at least they had somewhere to aim for now. Though part of what Charlotte said made absolute sense to him. Nicholls only wanted the best, the most unusual students from Kingston. Charlotte had killed any of them she had found in the house, but what if The Mimic had been away, what if...

He gazed in to the dark shadows of the trees around him and frowned. The others slept on, Carrie's muffled snores the only sound coming from the dilapidated cabin. Outside among the trees, Matt could hear the creatures of the night come to life, sniffling and rooting around the dead leaves and grass that covered the ground. An animal call now and then was enough to sharpen his sleep deprived senses, reminding him to focus, to be vigilant.

"Wondering how you ended up here?"

Matt glanced up, startled, as Charlotte interrupted his thoughts. She was pale in the darkness, her blue eyes puffy with tiredness, and yet she sunk to the floor beside his chair, resting her head against the moss covered wall of the cabin.