Dead.

All of her friends were dead. All except for one.

That thought had been the only thing going through her head since the helicopter landed at the top of the mountain to rescue them. All she could see when she closed her eyes were the lifeless, headless bodies of her friends hanging from the ceiling above her. All she could see were the monsters that had terrorized them, hunted them and brutally murdered them. She'd almost lost her own life to one of them – her former best friend, no less. If she had so much as breathed at the wrong moment, there would have only been one survivor left to tell the tale.

The tale that nobody would believe.

Sam sat perfectly still in the hard plastic chair in the lobby of the police station, starting blankly at the wall on the other side of the room. She'd been sitting there for what had felt like hours, but she knew it had only been probably a half hour at the most. She'd already been grilled by the police, told them everything. Everything about the elaborate "prank" that had been played on them up at the lodge. Everything about the Wendigos roaming freely through the mines. And right now, those officers were hearing the same story from someone else.

Not that it would make the story any more believable.

Even though she could tell the officers weren't buying her story, she could also tell they weren't viewing her as a suspect in the deaths of her friends. They assumed that she and her friends had been targeted by a serial killer up on that mountain and that the events that took place had traumatized her so badly that, in a state of shock, she had simply imagined all of that monster nonsense. They assumed that once that shock wore off, the real memories of what had happened would come flooding back to her, and they simply asked that she contact them as soon as they did.

But she was adamant about what she had seen. "The Wendigos are real," she'd told them. "They are living in the mines up on that mountain. You guys have to do something about it or more people are going to die."

She informed them that fire was their weakness. Burn the mines from the inside out if they had to. But she knew they weren't listening to her. They were pretending to, just to humor her. They would go up to that mountain to retrieve the bodies of her friends, to turn the whole area into a crime scene, but they would not heed her warnings. It was possible that some of the people sent up there to investigate would die.

But that wouldn't be on her conscience. She'd warned them. That was all she could do.

The sound of footsteps approaching was the first thing to break Sam out of her daze. She blinked, removed her gaze from the wall and glanced up to her left.

Michael Munroe, the only other one to have survived the horrors of the previous night, had just been released from the interrogation room and sent to the waiting area, just as Sam had. His empty gaze met hers in the only form of acknowledgment either one could manage to muster up at the moment before taking a seat across from her.

He landed in the chair with great force, as though he had just simply dropped down into it. Immediately he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his face cradled in his hands.

Sam studied him for a moment and didn't like what she saw. She had known Mike for years and had disliked him for most of that time. Yet despite her disdain for him, she'd never been able to dispute how attractive he was. His good looks often teetered between Metrosexual Pretty Boy and rugged masculinity, but no matter which side of the spectrum he was on during any given day, his smile always remained the same: cocky, sexy, happy. That smile was missing from his face at the moment, for obvious reasons, but that wasn't the only thing about his appearance that unnerved her. On his hand was a blood-stained bandage covering the area where two of his fingers had once been. The jacket he wore that he'd found in the mines was streaked with dirt and ripped in various spots from when one of the Wendigos attacked him. On his face were cuts and bruises that rivaled her own, and in his eyes there was nothing. No hint of emotion. No despair. No rage. No fear. Instead, he looked tired. Defeated.

Broken.

Lifting his head up, he looked at her again. Looked right at her, right through her. They stared at each other for a moment, not speaking. They didn't have to. There were no words to describe what they were feeling at the moment, so there was no use in trying to find any. Mike and Sam had never been close. They shared mutual friends, they'd engage in small talk with one another on occasion when left alone, but that was it. To Sam, Mike was always arrogant and obnoxious. To Mike, Sam was always uptight and judgmental. But now...now things were different. They'd fought together, side-by-side. It was safe to say that they'd saved each others' lives.

And now all they had was each other.

After a few moments of total silence between the two, Mike opened his mouth as though he was about to say something, but before he could speak he was interrupted by the sound of a woman's voice frantically calling out his name.

"Mike! Oh my God, Mike!"

Sam glanced over toward the front door of the police station to see a beautiful woman burst through, her arms wide open as she rushed over to Mike.

Mike stood up from his chair and was immediately enveloped in a hug by the woman Sam could only assume was his mother. Behind the woman was a man who looked like an older version of Mike, most likely his father. His parents had come to pick him up.

"Mom. Dad."

This was the first time Sam had heard him speak since before the lodge blew up. She nearly cringed at how broken he sounded, but it shouldn't have come to any surprise to her. Out of the two of them, Mike had arguably lost a lot more than Sam had. His new girlfriend. His ex-girlfriend. A couple of guys he had considered best friends.

"What happened, Mike?" Mr. Munroe placed a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed.

"Sweetie, you don't have to talk about it. Not yet." His mother planted a kiss on his forehead and then turned to her husband. "Let's go speak to an officer before we leave with him."

Mr. Munroe nodded solemnly and the two headed over to the front desk.

Mike watched them go and then glanced back at Sam. "Are your parents coming?" he asked softly.

Sam bit her lip and swallowed hard to keep a flood of fresh tears from overflowing. She shook her head. "No. My parents are on vacation in Florida for the next few days. I tried to call them to tell them about what's going on before they see it on the news, but I keep getting their voicemail."

Mike frowned and ran a hand through his hair. "Seriously? How are you getting home?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it."

"My parents will drive you."

"No, it's fine. Really. I can just call a cab or something."

"Sam." Mike reached out and grabbed her hand. "I'm not asking if you want my parents to drive you home. I'm telling you my parents are driving you home. End of story. I'm not leaving this station without you."

She sighed heavily and said, "Fine. If it's no trouble for them..."

"Are you kidding me?" Mike lowered his head slightly so that his gaze was level with hers. "Sam, you saved their son's life...not once, but twice. I think it's safe to say that it won't be any trouble for them."

Sam could feel the corner of her mouth twitch, as though it wanted to upturn into a half smile, but she instantly remembered there was nothing to smile about. Not now, possibly not ever again.

"We're all set to leave," Mrs. Munroe said, returning to her son's side.

Mike nodded and said, "Mom, Dad, this is Sam. She's the only other survivor..." His voice trailed off as though it were too painful for him to continue.

His mother seemed to understand. "Hello, Sam," she greeted her with a smile. "I'm so sorry for all that you two went through up there..."

Mike seemed to regain his composer as he cleared his throat and said, "Her parents are out of town right now, she has no way to get home. Do you mind if we drop her off on the way?"

"We absolutely do not mind at all," Mr. Munroe said, giving Sam a small smile as well.

"Thank you," Sam said quietly.

"No problem," Mr. Munroe said. "Are we ready then?"

Mike and Sam glanced at each other and nodded. They couldn't leave that police station soon enough.

The four of them headed for the exit. As soon as the door opened, a cold breeze fell over them and Sam welcomed it. The station had been hot and stuffy and even though she was still clad only in her workout clothes, the cold air biting at her bare skin assured her that she could still feel something. It reminded her that she was still alive.

It wasn't until they'd reached the car that Sam realized that Mike still held her hand in his. They parted briefly to climb into opposite sides of the back seat, but as soon as their seat belts were on, their hands found each other again.

After all they'd just been through together, neither one was quite ready to let the other one go just yet.