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At any point, she could have just given up, but she’s frankly too stubborn for that.
When Nick’s infection had transformed him into an unrecognizable creature, hungry for blood and not caring if he had to rip the head off of his would-be-girlfriend to do it. The sound of Abi’s screams and the image of her lifeless body bleeding out in the poolhouse.
The panic as she froze when face-to-face with a werewolf, unaware of their identity, forcing Dylan to challenge the monster head on. Thank fuck for the infection. She hadn’t expected to be grateful for something so destructive.
Both her and Dylan realizing they weren’t escaping Hackett’s Quarry — not without risking their asses to find a working vehicle.
Dylan using his final moments to beg her to fucking run as he himself turned, her last companion lost to the night.
Kaitlyn hops onto the wooden beam, batting away those thoughts and focusing her entire brainpower on not eating shit. She takes it slow, using her outstretched arms to aid in balancing her steps. Halfway there…
The thud of an unwelcome canine guest joining her rattles her concentration, but she’s able to counteract it enough to continue on. If she can make it across, she can outrun this thing. She’s fucking counting on it.
She should have also maybe counted on the wolf leaping at her. Kaitlyn turns around with just enough time to dodge the attack, but not enough to rebalance herself. Hands grasp at the air, desperate to save her from her own lapse in judgment.
This whole night, she’s managed to outsmart, outrun, and outlive everything thrown at her. All of that work to die to fucking gravity.
If there is a god, he’s got a fucked up sense of humor. Kaitlyn’s also going to kill him with her own bare hands when she meets him in a few seconds.
Just as she accepts her fate, her hand catches the beam.
Then the other.
Fuck yes. Her appointment with god will have to wait.
Dangling helplessly is a whole lot better than splatting like a bug on a windshield like a certain uncoordinated werewolf. Kaitlyn musters all of her upper body strength to hoist herself back up. Once safely on the other side of the attic, she looks down at the pathetic thing curled up in the fetal position groaning in pain. Dumbass.
Her victory is short-lived. The thing recovers quickly, and before long, has cornered Kaitlyn in the kitchen. She has nowhere to run. She could hide in the freezer, but there’s no way out once locked in. Another laughably mundane way to die.
Maybe Kaitlyn’s stupid for just now realizing, but as the werewolf grabs her by the shoulder, she suspects she won’t be dying here.
And she’s right. Another win for the infection.
It gives a quick sniff, and she’s dropped like a discarded toy before it can think twice about snacking on her.
Kaitlyn exhales and looks out the kitchen window. Sunrise is close. She can’t help but laugh.
She’s alive. She’s fucking alive.
She doesn’t have much time to contemplate her next move before something deep in her stomach lurches, doubling her over.
Damn it. Kaitlyn thought she would be able to hold it off til sunrise.
It turns out the only three things in life that are guaranteed are death, taxes, and exploding into one of these fucking bastards.
Joy.
When she comes to, it doesn’t take long for her to realize she hasn’t even left the lodge. She’s by the fireplace, both her and the hearth coated in an impressive amount of blood that she can only assume has come from her own transformation.
On the other side of the fireplace, someone sniffles. She rounds it, and…
…of fucking course it’s Caleb fucking Hackett.
He opens his mouth in an attempt to say something, but no words come out. Kaitlyn puts a hand up. “Don’t.”
She walks out onto the porch. To say she’s done with this camp and this night and this entire summer would be an understatement.
There’s only one thing on her mind now.
Who else made it out?
Other than Kaylee, Caleb, and — fuck — and Abi, Kaitlyn can’t be sure of anyone else’s fate. Dylan could have been shot with a silver bullet. Ryan and Laura could have been mauled on the way to Hackett House. Emma could have drowned in the lake for all she knows.
Well, if the sun’s out, that means werewolves aren’t, so Kaitlyn does what she’s been doing the whole night. She’s going to find her own damn answers. She sets off toward the firepit. If anything, she can restart the fire there with some leftover matches to signal to the others.
Kaitlyn treks through the camp she’d spent the past two months familiarizing herself with. Every inch of this place holds a memory, a moment shared between her and people who may or may not still be alive.
I can’t think that way. More people will come.
Almost on cue, a rustling in a nearby bush catches Kaitlyn’s attention. She doesn’t have her shotgun. She prays she doesn’t need it.
When Kaitlyn turns to face the intruder, her chest tightens at the sight of a familiar athletic figure stumbling out toward her. His body is as coated in bloody gunk as hers is. And he’s alive.
“Jacob?”
“Kait,” he stops in his tracks, “I…this is all my fault.”
“I know,” is all she can say, because it’s the truth — well, partially. He didn’t summon the werewolves, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’d sabotaged the van and stranded them there. She told him how to do it, too.
Jacob looks as if he’s gearing up to spill the beans, but apparently he’s no genius himself. “You do? Fuck — I swear I didn’t know about the-the things out here. I just…I just wanted one more night with her.”
One more night. She’d been all for it. What was supposed to be fun and celebratory had turned into a literal bloodbath. People are dead. They could be the only ones left.
Kaitlyn stares at Jacob in silence, unsure of what to say.
She’s tired.
She’s pissed.
She’s devastated.
She’s relieved.
He’s the first to break. “Please say something.”
“I’m glad you’re alive.” That much is true.
“Yeah…you too.” Before he can protest, she gathers him in a disgusting, bloody embrace. Fuck everything else. Right now, Jacob is that same scrawny kid on the playground who used to challenge her to a footrace and lose every time. He’s the awkward teen boy who needed to practice kissing on her to make sure he got it right when it counted. He’s the reckless but well-intentioned guy who signed them both up to work as camp counselors, just like they’d dreamed of doing when they were campers.
It takes him a second, but Jacob returns the gesture, strong arms holding her tight. “It’s okay if you hate me for this,” he whispers, the words half-choked.
I don’t, she wants to say, but her emotions are far too jumbled right now for that to be an honest answer.
“Maybe I do, but it won’t last forever.”