Page 64 of Scrimmage

As soon and she steps outside I can’t see her anymore. I curse under my breath and run after her, slamming into her back. She looks around, trying to find her way. I grab her hand, scaring her, then start dragging her to where I think the path might be. I’m the blind leading the blind. The wind is somehow picking up, and I hear trees crack and crash. Ashland urges me forward, and we start to run.

At the sight of Troy’s, she kicks the door open. In seconds, she’s stalking back out. I’m imagining the death announcement. ‘Koda Armory, NFL prospect, killed by a tree at a lake party’. The hail is coming down so hard that it hurts.

I pull Ashland into my body and shout into her ear. “Is she in there?”

She shakes her head.

“We’re not going to find her,” I explain.

“Go back, Armory. I’ll be fucking fine.”

“You’re going to get us killed!”

“I’m not afraid.” I can tell that she isn’t. She looks like this is a sunny day on the fucking beach. Ashland is bat shit crazy.

Do I want to go? Absolutely. I can’t leave her out here though.

She heads for the woods, the absolute worst idea she could possibly have, and starts screaming into the void. I see a light. It’s hazy, and I’m not sure it’s there, but I pull Ashland toward it. It’s definitely a light. Ashland runs, her wrist sliding out of my hand, and heads for it. I run after her, tripping on twigs and branches. Thorns tear at my ankles. If it’s hurting her, she doesn’t look like it. While I’m stumbling, she’s powering through, like the ground isn’t trying to swallow her.

Huddled at the bottom of a tree is Penny with her head buried in between her knees. Her phone light shines like a beacon in the dark. She must've left, trying to find her way back, and then the storm swept in. Ashland wraps herself around her, shouting something into her cocoon. Penny looks up with wide terrified eyes. The cross necklace is clutched in her fist. Ashland sits next to her, as if she’s staying here through this storm.

“Ashland!” I gesture around wildly as more trees crash.

She swallows, looking at me like she’s accepted death. Penny follows her gaze and stares at my outstretched hand. She looks to Ashland, curling up into her. They aren’t fucking staying here. No fucking way.

Ashland smooths Penny’s hair back. It’s stuck to her forehead in a mess. We don’t look any better. Hail pounds at my back, forcing its way through the tree tops. She looks at me, and with resolve on her face, she stands. Then she holds out her hands toward Penny, who gingerly stands, and sweeps her into her arms as if she’s about to carry her. It’s at least a mile back to the cabin. We may not make it even if Ashland isn’t carrying her. She looks like an elf trying to carry a normal sized person. I can tell she’s struggling, but she doesn’t complain.

I lean down. “Give her to me.”

“She’s going to fight you. She’s going to scream.”

“So fucking be it.” I snatch her and start to run.

Penny is fierce. She claws at my skin and screeches, but I tighten my grip. This is more than some stupid fear of storms, and Ashland knew it. She was going to do all of this herself. Didn’t even ask me to help.

“We’re all drowning, and people like you just haven’t realized it yet. The only choice we really have are the people we drown with. I’d drown with Penny every single day, and it would be the best time ever.”

She was willing to fucking die. I see Ashland differently, marching through the depths of Hell beside me. She takes Penny’s hand and tries to shout soothing things into her ears as we run. She calms in my arms and fists my shirt in her hands. It feels like we run forever. I see the cabin in the distance. Light pours through the doorway. We didn’t even close it.

Once inside, Penny wiggles out of my arms and grabs onto Ashland, who leads her to the bathroom. I pick up a towel from earlier and do my best to dry myself off. I’m in shock, I think. My adrenaline is pumping so hard I can’t even sit down. I just pace back and forth.

Ten minutes later, Ashland appears around the corner. Her legs are covered in droplets of blood where the thorns must have torn into her skin. Bruises are forming from where the hail pelted her, and my bite mark is on her neck. She looks like she’s surviving the zombie apocalypse.

Silently, she snatches my towel from me and starts to squeeze her hair dry.

“What was that?” I finally ask.

“Told you.” She shrugs. “Scared of storms.”

“Scared? She was fucking terrified.”

“Quiet,” she hisses.

I lower my voice. “Don’t ever fucking pull that shit again.”

“I told you to go back,” she says matter of fact.

“You would still be out there looking for her.”

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