"The first favor." Only one of the wolves is now standing by me. "The text adventure was posted from a house in Ohio. I'll email you the address."

One of the other werewolves snaps his fingers, inches from Dee's face. She's not responding. She keeps looking at the cultists' corpses.

Clara is drenched in gasoline by this point.

"The owners of the house, though, are two women. You said this was a guy. So, my guess is he was stealing their Wi-Fi. There's an abandoned house across the street from them. Good of a place as any to write your interactive murder diary, I suppose."

"Dee." I get no further than a single step before another wolf places his hand against my chest.

"The second favor," the wolf says, "is that I don't kill her for what she did back there."

"Fuck you." I tell him. "Just fuck you, Bobby."

He laughs. "Now we're even."

"For what?"

The wolf's eyes narrow. "You had no right to leave the way you did."

"I didn't need your permission."

"And if you had needed it, you would've gotten it." He slides his hands into his pockets. "That's not the point."

"I'm not too interested in whichever one you're trying to make." I admit.

"You left without a word."

I can't help but grin. "So? You're the guy who knows everything. It didn't matter where I went. You could've found me whenever you wanted to."

"I did. I knew the moment you got to that—"

"So what the hell are you getting sentimental about?"

The werewolf shrugs and joins the little group of himself forming around the tree.

I walk over to Dee. I do what I think I'm allowed to — a hand on the shoulder. She doesn't flinch. She doesn't push me away. It'd be a good sign, if I wasn't so sure she doesn't even feel the weight of my hand.

"Dee." I whisper in her ear.

Nothing.

"I want to ask you something." Clara's talking to the wolves. "Rather, I want to ask something of you."

"The third stage of death is bargaining." one of the beasts tells her. "Or is it the third stage grief? Hm. Do you regret anything, Clara? Do you, say, feel responsible for getting all these people killed?"

"You killed them."

"Fair, fair. Do you feel guilty for tricking them, then?"

"I was showing them the path. Knowing what we know, being what we are, can you honestly say that pointing them in the path towards understanding was a crime?"

"I don't remember ever finding out about that song, dance, water, seed bullshit."

"Everyone needs a good story."

"Shame there's nobody left to tell yours." He pulls out a matchbox.

"What do you want?" asks another one.

"I don't want you to burn them." she says simply. "Leave the bodies as they are. Don't desecrate them. Let them be found. Let them be buried with some dignity."

"Their dignity — the only one that matters to them — now rests entirely on where they've woken up. Not much you can do for people who end up in a laser tag vest. The final state of these bodies won't make a lick of difference."

"It will to the people they cared for." Clara points out.

"Burn them."

That one stops the match just inches from the box. The wolf lighting in is surprised. So are the other ones. So is Clara. So am I.

"Burn them." Dee says again. "You have to burn them all." With shaky footing, she slowly walks past the corpses. "What the hell kind of dignity does burying them do, if someone's going to wake up in them eventually? M-Maybe not in a month, maybe not in a year, maybe not in a century, but eventually, someone will wake up in one of these people's graves. At that point, wh-what good does it matter if they were buried under a tombstone with their name? Worse yet, what if some—some evil, evil thing digs those bodies up and—" she looks at the horde surrounding us, "—and disfigures them into his own image?" She shakes her head. "You have to—You have to burn them."

Silence.

Then laughter.

One wolf. Two. Soon, they're all laughing.

"You. The ghost. Possessing a corpse. Are saying it's wrong to possess corpses." Some don't even stop laughing. "Incredible. But I see what you're saying. You get yourself a fine body and the rest of us get to screw ourselves. Bold take, but I'll respect it."

"I'll avenge the woman who suffered in this body. You, though, can't be punished." she says simply. "You can't be killed. You've proven that."

"Ah. That's your justification." They're still laughing. "Well, I'm sure poor old — what was it? — Abigail will appreciate it. That is, if she even ends up finding out about this favor you did for her. Her spirit probably being somewhere in China right about now. But, no, no, I'm sure that she'll eventually find out, and I'm sure she'll be super grateful a stranger is walking around her body. I'm sure you'll be even-Steven. You're totally better than everyone else. I apologize."

"I'm not better than anyone. It's n-not about—"

The laughter ends. "Jesus, you're so fucking transparent."

"Okay," I try and step in, "that's enou—"

"Act high and mighty as much as you want. I really don't care, miss. The difference between you and me is that I acknowledge that the rules to existing are different now. You can pretend like you pity the people in my shops; the fact of the matter is that if it came to a choice between being like them, and doing something terrible to be able to walk again, you'd take the latter. Every. Single. Time." He tilts his head. "In fact, you already have. You're just trying to pretend like you can atone. That you can give something back to the universe, and everything will be fine."

He lights the match.

"Guess what? The universe isn't listening. And you're still just as much of a terrible person, regardless of how much you try to find this guy."

"I'm—I'm not." Dee's frozen in place again.

"Do you really even care about catching him? Or are you secretly hoping you'll run into a dead end in two weeks? Is that the real reason you've been pissed at me? If this fell through, you'd be out of leads. And you'd get to live on like this, guilt-free. And nobody could reasonably blame you."

"Shut up."

"Hey. No need to get pissy with me anymore. As I said, I get it. Those are the new rules. That's what it takes to be happy now. What does it matter, anyway? You scared of being judged? Who's gonna judge you now?"

"Just—shut up!"

"I guess the woman whose body you stole might have a thing or two to say, eh?"

"She was already dead!" she screams. "What the hell does it matter?!"

"What does it matter if someone gets into any of these guys?" he gestures to the corpses. "See? You are transparent. Fake morals to go with your fake body."

Dee looks at the corpses. Then at her own hands. Then at the wolves. Then at me. Then back at her hands. She's thinking how those aren't really her hands. She's thinking about the life Abigail must've had before she got in her body. She's thinking about how the wolf might be right. She's thinking about how much she hates it. She's convincing herself that she's still in shock. She's thinking about how she's not good at arguing. She's thinking about how she's right about this. She's thinking she has to be.

She has to be.

She takes one more look at me, before turning on her heel and running into the woods.

"Dee!" I shout, running after her.

The rustle of the bushes. The crunching of the leaves. The faint bits of light pouring in from the treetops. The sound of her footsteps. I take it all in as I chase the blur.

"He's just toying with you!" I try tell her. "You're in shock, you—" I stumble, hitting the ground. My knee hurts even more now. "—This wasn't your fault!" I pick myself up. "Dee! Dee, come back!"

I still make out her silhouette in the distance. I have to keep up with her.

At some point, all trees begin looking the same. In the back of my mind, I wonder how we'll get back to the camper.

The chase sends us deeper and deeper into the forest. At some point, it begins feeling like a descent, with the paths becoming more and more angled. We're probably going into some kind of ravine.

"Dee! Stop!" I keep shouting. It's been a while since I've ran like this. I feel sick. My knee is killing me. "I'm sorry! We never should've gone to him! Please, just stop for a moment! You'll hurt yourself! Your stitches will—"

No. I'm doing it again. That's not what she needs to hear now.

Damn it, what does she need to hear now?

Those moments of hesitation cause the distance between us to grow larger and larger. I start taking more risks to make up for it.

At some point, I take a leap to skip going over one of the slopes.

The landing is unpleasant.

There's a crunching sound. My knee goes from hurting to almost in flames. I scream.

Something's gotten dislodged.

I look in front of me. Dee still hasn't even stopped.

Can she even hear me? Is she even bothering to control her sense of sound?

I get up. I can't afford to lose her.

Now limping, I try to keep going in her general direction. In a minute or two, I completely lose sight of her.

"Damn it."

It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad.

I hear a splash in the distance. The forest seems to be loosening in density. The path seems to have leveled out, too. I can see light.

"Dee!"

In what seems to be the true heart of the forest, there's a lake. Judging by the ripples in the surface, Dee must've jumped into it.

"Dee!"

She's not coming back up, though, even after a minute of waiting.

"Oh, God."

I realize she might not have any intention to.

I jump in after her. I have no choice. As the water seeps through my clothing, I feel the sting of all the scratching and bruising I was and wasn't aware of.

Everything hurts now.

I squint. Lying perfectly still, just above the dark depths of the lake, is Dee. Her arms are spread out. Her eyes meet mine.

I swim over to her. Stupidly, I call out to her. Water gets in my mouth. Even more stupidly, I instinctively try to spit it out, inviting even more of it in.

I don't care, though.

I finally reach her, grabbing her hand. Her eyes move ever so slightly.

I try to pull, but she's not budging. Water must've already filled her body.

She smiles.

Suddenly, she's the one doing the pulling. She draws me closer to her, wrapping her arms and legs around me.

'You're going to kill us!' I want to say.

I look into her eyes. They're saying: 'I know.'

This, I realize, is how she's going to punish me. For going to Bobby. No; even before that — suggesting that she get into Abigail's corpse in the first place. I'm responsible for her hurting right now.

I close my eyes.

I'm not going to fight it.

I have nowhere else to be.

The pain turns to numbness. And the light from above grows dimmer.

It's as if something's pulling us to the very bottom.

Everything is okay.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay.

Ok—

I open my eyes. I'm gasping for breath. There's something in my mouth. I have to spit it out. My chest feels heavy. I just need spit it out. One step at a time. My head hurts. I feel dirt on my hands. I'm lying on the ground. I have to get up.

Up.

I vomit the water out. Some runs through my nose. I cough. There's tears in my eyes. Or is it more water?

My body feels heavy. There's water in my pockets, I'm pretty sure.

It's night. It takes a while to realize. Because nothing around is is dark. The lake is red.

No. Its reflection is red.

Everything around me is red.

Everything is on fire.

The trees are all burning up.

I pull myself up. My leg is killing me. I think I'll have to sit for a little while.

No. Sitting's hard, too.

I fall back to the ground.

I realize someone's next to me.

It's Dee. She's soaked from head to toe, much like me.

Her left arm's not there. Not where it should be, at least. She's holding it in her lap. It fell off, then?

She turns to me. "You're heavier than you look."

"Maybe—" A cough. "—you're not as strong as you think you are." I say.

The Moon looks big tonight.

"I'm sorry." she says.

"That's my line, I'm pretty sure." My chuckle turns into a cough.

"Am I a bad person?"

"No. God, no. I mean, you've seen what a bad person looks like."

"Okay." I don't think she's got the will left to argue.

Or maybe that's what she needed to hear.

I put my hand to her cheek. It's wet. She grimaces. Gets ugly. Like she's in pain. Even though she shouldn't be able to feel it; shouldn't have to feel it.

Then again, a corpse shouldn't be able to cry, either.

Yet, I realize that's just what I'm looking at.

She places her head on my chest, not saying a word. She can't sob. She can't weep. But there's water on her cheek. And something's hurting her. That has to count for something, right?

I wrap my arms around her.

The fire surrounds us. Ash rains down over us. Sparks fly from the treetops, dancing with the smoke. Off to the skies.

Perhaps they'll burn the night away?