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Varian kicks his feet in the water, watching as the airborne drops shimmer in the sunlight. The banks of the river are muddy from the rain they’ve been having, making it that much harder to sit. He probably shouldn’t be getting himself this dirty. Rapunzel will want to clean his clothes. Even during the apocalypse, she stuck to her routine.
(She’s told him not to say the word apocalypse, but really, what else can he call it? That One Whacky Summer When Monsters Eradicated the Human Race? He once proposed this to her as an alternative, but she didn’t laugh.)
He leans back and lets the beams of afternoon sun hit his face. Out here, in the middle of the woods by the bubbling brook, he can forget for a little while.
He stays for about as long as he can before he thinks Eugene will start to get nervous. Then, he grabs the big water jug and leans down to fill it, fulfilling the duty he was here for.
When he looks up, there’s a boy on the other side of the bank.
Varian nearly drops the jug in shock. A huge slosh of water hits him in the chest and douses him with cold water, but he barely registers it. There’s a boy—another person—and he’s staring at him with wide, green eyes.
His pulse skyrockets as fear shoots down his spine. It’s been months since he’s seen another person—for good reason. People meant noise, and noise meant those things. He takes a step back, his foot sliding in the mud. Through practiced instinct, he doesn’t make a sound, quickly rebalancing himself and sprinting back through the trees on the path of sand.
His heart is still beating wildly as he approaches the farmhouse they’ve made their own. The people who used to live here are gone. Probably dead. Varian doesn’t usually like to think about that, but the sight of another human has made him jittery. They’re hiding in the bones of someone else’s dream. There’s something morbid about that, no matter how you slice it.
Rapunzel greets him at the door and helps him bring the water to the kitchen. She isn’t supposed to be walking around upstairs—but Eugene isn’t here, and what her overprotective husband doesn’t know won’t kill him.
Make any friends? Rapunzel signs to him with a smile. It’s a dark joke that sends Varian’s stomach dropping.
No, Varian signs back. He hopes she can’t see the way his hands are trembling. He offers her a shaky smile, then heads back outside to where his cousin will surely be working on their warning system.
His mind whirs as he walks, thoughts still lingering on that green-eyed boy at the river. He should tell Eugene he saw someone.
There was another person out there. A risk. People in groups were picked off easily by those creatures—all it took was someone coughing too loud. If they heard you, they hunted you. Varian's family had been separated, killed, just so that their children might survive a little longer. After hiding out in abandoned barns, caves, and shacks, they finally came upon an old farmhouse without residence.
The perfect oasis in the mountains for Rapunzel to have her baby.
Her due date was so close. Two months. Leaving now would put too much stress on her—not to mention ruin all the protective measures Varian and Eugene had worked so hard to build around them.
Varian swallows hard. Why was he even worried about this? That boy would be dead by tomorrow. People didn’t last long on their own.
Still. He should tell Eugene.
(He doesn’t tell Eugene.)
Varian doesn’t see him again for three days. Not until he goes to get more water by the river. He smells the blood in the air, the tangy iron scent thick and nauseating.
He inches toward the edge of the sand path, hesitating. He knows going off the path is dangerous. Forbidden. It’s too easy to crunch leaves under your foot or crack a twig under your heel. While there’s noise in nature, any sound is dangerous.
At least, that’s what Eugene tells him. It’s not like Varian can hear any of it.
It’s probably an animal. It’s probably nothing. But he can’t help but think of that boy, and morbid curiosity gets the better of him.
Holding his breath, he steps off the sand.
Hyperaware of every root, every leaf, and every stone underneath his feet, Varian tiptoes forward, slowly inching toward that scent. It doesn’t take long for him to find the source.
The blond boy is collapsed against a tree trunk, his foot caught in a bear trap.
Varian slams both his hands over his mouth to keep from throwing up at the sight. An icy shudder races down his spine. This was another reason why walking off the path was dangerous. Someone set this up to trap…what, one of the monsters? Or maybe another person. Maybe someone put it here to use other humans as bait. Or a sacrifice. Varian feels sick.
He almost turns around and leaves—but then he notices that the boy’s chest is still moving.
Oh god. He’s still alive.
How he isn’t screaming right now is nothing short of a miracle. He must still be in shock. If that was the case, Varian only had seconds to—
To what? To help him? He shouldn’t. The smart thing would be to run. Sprint back to the house and wait out what was certain to be a slaughter.
But this was another human being. Someone who looked around his own age. Varian can't just leave him like this.
The boy’s eyes are dazed, so much so that he barely seems to register Varian kneeling in front of him.
I’m going to get you out, Varian tells him. Through the haze, the boy looks at him strangely, the sunlight glinting off his dirty glasses. Varian has no idea if he’s even lucid enough to understand. He sucks in a deep breath, then looks down.
He forces himself to focus on the metal and only the metal. It's rusted with age, which generally isn't a good sign. It might be hard to undo. He quickly finds the latch release. His fingers prod it, and the boy whimpers.
Varian quickly slaps a hand over the boy’s mouth. He puts a finger to his own lips and shakes his head. Pain seems to bring the blond to awareness, green eyes wide and terrified as breaths come in sharp pants through his nose. Varian bites his lip, then quickly undoes his belt and shoves it in between the boy’s teeth.
He puts one finger to his lips again, hoping this time he’ll get the message. The boy nods, then his eyes pinch shut.
Varian holds his breath, counts to three, and releases the latch. True to their unspoken agreement, the boy doesn’t scream when the metal jaws are pulled apart, only turns stark white and thumps his head back against the tree.
Varian quickly tears off a sleeve of his flannel and wraps it around the mangled mess of the boy’s ankle. He tries desperately not to think about what is making his hands so slick. As he works, he listens, listens, listens. Those creatures had a calling card—a sonar clicking. Bat-like and echoing. At least that’s what Eugene described it as. Varian’s never heard it. He strains to hear it now, willing his hearing aid to for once be enough.
It takes effort to get the boy to stand. Varian has to support most of his weight on his own, throwing one of the blond's skinny arms over his shoulders and holding him up at the waist. It’s really hard to steer someone around who is taller than you, especially if they can’t walk.
The trek back to the house is long. Too long. The boy is barely conscious and even worse—Eugene is waiting for him. He’s pacing the edge of the property line like an agitated animal, the rigid line of his shoulders making him totally on edge. The man’s eyes go wide when he catches sight of the two of them. They go even wider when he sees the trail of blood.
What is this? He asks, hands moving fast. Brown eyes are brimming with distrust and fear. Who is he?
Varian only has one hand free, so he says, Hospital. They both know there isn’t a hospital near here, but Rapunzel is good at stitchwork. The meaning translates, and his cousin’s face hardens.
NO, Eugene responds. We don’t know him. We can’t bring him inside.
Hospital, Varian signs back firmly. Eugene’s brow draws down low like it always does whenever he’s about to start a fight. Varian bristles. Six months ago, his cousin wouldn’t hesitate to help someone in need. Now, he’s too protective of his own to even think about sticking his neck out for someone else.
The end of the world changes people, not always for the better.
They glare at each other for a long while, locked in a silent deadlock. It’s only when the boy wheezes out a pained breath that it breaks. The minuscule noise is enough to make both of them jolt.
Eugene finally caves, letting out a silent and controlled breath before moving forward to lift the blond boy into his arms.
Varian trails after him into the house, unlatching the basement hatch so Eugene can descend the stairs easier. It’s completely soundproofed down here, but Rapunzel’s gasp of surprise is still as loud as glass shattering.
“What happened?” she asks. Even though she whispers, the soundwaves of her voice warble into his good ear through his hearing aid like a clap of thunder.
Eugene plops the boy down on one of their cots. He doesn’t answer, through speech or sign. He only brings Rapunzel a bundle of towels, scissors, a needle and thread, and then goes back upstairs as silently as he arrived.
She stares after her husband, shock and concern blatant on her freckled face.
Varian tugs at her sleeve. Help him, he signs desperately. Please?
Rapunzel snaps out of it. She shoots him a firm smile, the one that’s unwavering and brave. When she looks at him like that, he feels like the sun is shining through the darkest clouds. It's an expression of hope, one that Varian desperately needs to see right now.
And then, she gets to work.
He can’t watch as she unbinds the boy’s leg, but he can bring over a bowl of water and listen to her sing. Well. Sing is really a stretch, since he hasn’t heard her utter lyrics in probably a year, but he knows the humming tune of her song by heart. An old family lullaby, she told him once. It’s supposed to bring health.
Varian chews on the inside of his cheek as he eyes the boy’s face. He’s been unconscious for a while now, face pale and clammy with fevered sweat. His choppy blond bangs have fallen in front of his eyes. Varian pushes them off his forehead, then blushes when he realizes what he’s done. He uses the motion to take off the boy’s glasses and pretends like that was what he was doing all along.
The lenses are caked in dirt. The frames are crooked, too. Hmm. He could probably fix that.
He goes into the corner to find his toolbox, and fiddles with the frames until they’re straight again. By the time he’s done, Rapunzel has finished bandaging the wound, lifting a blanket up under the boy’s chin.
Under the glittering string lights, the boy looked like death warmed over. Varian’s heart sinks.
Be okay? he asks.
Rapunzel’s lips are set in a firm line. I don’t know, she answers. That’s what he likes the most about her. Eugene sometimes lies to him to make him feel better, but Rapunzel never does. She’s always honest with him, even if it hurts. She draws him close, tucking him into her side.
You did good, she tells him.
Eugene is mad.
I know. Let him be mad. He’ll get over it.
He hesitates, then signs, Are you mad?
Her chuckle is nothing more than a puff of air against the top of his hair. At you? Never.
Eugene stays mad. It’s incredibly ironic, giving a deaf person the silent treatment. Varian hates how much it bothers him.
He knows exactly what must be running through his cousin’s head. A stranger is now in their home. A stranger who is hurt, who needs to be fed, who is only another unplanned variable that will put them at risk of discovery and death.
But at the same time, Varian can’t help but be proud of himself. He saved that boy’s life, all on his own! He managed to stomach his fear of blood long enough to do something life-changing.
Rapunzel urges him not to take it personally. She says Eugene is just scared. They all are. The swelling of her belly is a ticking timebomb. They had spent so long planning for the Before, they didn’t have a clue what to do in the After.
The boy's unresponsiveness doesn't help Varian's anxiety either. It’s been two days, but he hasn’t woken up. What if this was all for nothing? He sits at the boy’s bedside whenever he’s not doing anything else, biting his nails down to the sensitive under bed and trying to mind control him to just open his eyes.
Please, Varian thinks. You can’t die too.
He startles when a hand brushes against his shoulder.
You’re worried, Eugene deduces. It’s the first time in days he’s spoken. At Varian’s tiny nod of confirmation, the man lets out a sigh.
His cousin stoops to his level, kneeling so that they’re eye to eye. Varian has always looked up to Eugene—literally and figuratively. Even before things went to shit, the ten-year difference between them solidified the older man in sainthood. Eugene was so cool, strong and calm under pressure. He’s everything Varian isn’t. Everything Varian desperately wants to be.
You shouldn’t be. No matter what happens, you did your best. Eugene smiles and lightly ruffles his hair. You’ve got a good heart, kid. Your dad would be proud.
Heat automatically pricks at Varian’s eyes as the last memory of his father comes to the front of his mind. The day the monsters came, he’d been one of the first to die, shoving Varian under the counter of the convenience store they were in and instructing him to stay down. Varian doesn’t remember the screams; the explosion of glass and wood when the creature broke through the storefront is permanently engrained in his mind.
He wipes at his eyes quickly and turns back to the unconscious blond on the cot. Maybe that’s why he felt the need to save this boy. His father’s life bought him a second chance. Varian needed to repay it back to the universe somehow.
Eugene stands. Tell me when he wakes up?
Varian nods, then catches his cousin’s wrist. I can still help, he insists. Eugene must have been installing everything himself for the past few days. If you need more saltpeter—
His cousin waves him off. “You’re busy now,” he speaks out loud, jerking his chin to the boy on the cot. “You have to look after him.”
Three days later, the boy finally opens his eyes.
Varian doesn’t notice at first, too caught up in the book on his lap. His head snaps up when the boy’s body jerks into a sitting position, jolting the cot.
“Who the hell are you?” he demands between rapid breaths. His eyes are wide and wild. “Where—where am I?”
Varian puts his book down and eyes the boy’s elevated leg. Don’t move too much, you’ll hurt yourself. Take it slow.
But the boy’s heavy breathing gets even sharper. Green eyes narrow into a squint. Oh right, his glasses. Varian quickly plucks them from the bedside table.
I fixed them, he signs once the boy has put them on. And saved your life. You’re welcome.
“What—” The boy’s eyes flicker from his hands to his lips, uncertainty cracking through the panic. “…What is that?”
Varian tilts his head at the boy’s bewilderment, confused until it clicks. Oh. He hasn’t been around someone new in months. He can’t expect everyone to know just by looking at him. He brushes back the mess of his hair and taps the hearing aid in his left ear.
“Oh.” The boy blinks. “You…can’t talk?”
I can, Varian says, but I don’t like it.
The boy shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”
Varian purses his lips and peers around the room. He finds one of Rapunzel’s sketch pads and flips it open to a new page.
WHAT’S YOUR NAME? he writes.
“Hugo,” the boy says. Then, terror overtakes his face. He claps his hands over his mouth and glances around the room, as if waiting for something to pop out of the dark and strangle him.
IT’S OKAY TO TALK DOWN HERE, Varian writes. IT’S SOUNDPROOF. He points to the insulation stuffed into the walls and ceiling. Layers and layers of it, ensuring not even a pin dropping could be heard from above. IT GETS PRETTY STUFFY, THOUGH.
Hugo snorts. He takes in the hanging lights, the cluster of art supplies, the wall of dried herbs and other various greeneries that grow under lamps, their cots, and Varian’s workbench. “Pretty cool setup you’ve got. Is it just you here?” His gaze turns back to Varian. Varian shakes his head. Hugo hums, as if he was expecting this. His eyes are like precious emeralds in a museum, bright and shining under glass. “I saw you at the river. You were there alone.”
SO WERE YOU.
Hugo's face darkens. “Yeah.” It’s a grim look that goes beyond grief and loss. It says that whatever he’s seen, it’s an unspeakable horror. It’s a look Varian knows well by now. “Guess that’s how I got trapped so easily. Might be dead right now if you hadn’t helped.”
YOU WOULD BE DEAD, Varian affirms, pointing the marker to emphasize would. It makes the edges of Hugo’s mouth quirk up. BUT NOW YOU’RE HERE WITH US.
“Who’s…” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because the basement door opens and Rapunzel descends.
Her eyes light up at the sight of Hugo sitting up. You’re awake!
He doesn’t understand Sign, Varian tells her. His name is Hugo.
“Oh,” Rapunzel says. “Well, it’s nice to have you in the land of the living, Hugo.”
If Hugo is shocked at the use of his name, he doesn’t show it. He’s too busy staring at Rapunzel’s swollen belly. “You’re huge!" Varian slaps him on the arm with the sketchbook. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
But Rapunzel is laughing, the noise bright and warm. “No, you’re alright. I did gain a few pounds.” She lovingly caresses her stomach, stretched with a tiny human growing inside. “I hope you’re not in too much pain?”
Hugo lets out a breathless little chuckle. “I mean, what's pain compared to all this, right?” He gestures vaguely around in the air.
Rapunzel cringes. “Thaaaat’s a little grim. We like to dwell on the positives here. It helps the days pass easier.”
Varian snorts. It’s moments like these that he understands Eugene’s nickname for her. She could always shine a bright light on the darkest moments. She moves to check on Hugo’s bandages, and Varian stands up to let her have his chair. Their injured visitor looks bewildered by her kindness.
“I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck off your leg for a while,” she says. “That trap dug into your bone and fractured it. You’ll need to take a few weeks to rest it.” She offers him a soft smile and squeezes his hand. “Do you have anyone you were traveling with? My husband can try and look for them.”
“No,” Hugo mutters. “My mom…um. She didn’t…”
It’s okay, Varian tells him. My dad, too.
Hugo’s face screws up in confusion. “I can’t…” He turns to Rapunzel and lowers his voice to a conspiratory whisper. “Can he actually hear us?”
Varian rolls his eyes. It’s a common question that he got even back when things were normal. Rapunzel senses his annoyance and responds with the diplomatic air of a queen.
“He can hear enough, and he can read lips, so don’t start gossiping.” Hugo’s ears turn pink as he hesitantly looks at Varian again. Varian has to bite his tongue to prevent from sticking it out. “But, since you’ll be here for a while, it’ll be good for you to learn ASL. That’s how we communicate outside of this room. Varian can teach you.”
Varian nods. It was pure, dumb luck that their family knew how to communicate wordlessly while the creatures outside hunted them for sport through sound.
Hugo sinks back on the sheets, suddenly looking a lot more exhausted than before. “Varian, huh? ‘S nice name.”
The back of his neck suddenly feels hot, but he has no idea why. It wasn’t like Hugo said anything particularly nice. The blond barely looks awake now, quickly slipping back down into unconsciousness as his bodily need for rest takes over. Rapunzel catches his eye and shoots him a wink.
Varian wants to die.
Spending time with Hugo is a lot more fun than Varian thought it would be.
They spend the first day going through a sort of 50 questions type trivia. Varian discovers that Hugo is sixteen, only one year older than him, and from a town on the other side of these mountains. His mom used to be a mechanic, so he knows his way around machinery. It used to be his dream to go to engineering school and build his own robot before everything happened.
He can be sarcastic, but Varian doesn’t mind. It keeps his own wit sharp. It’s just been so long since he’s been around another person his age.
Hugo takes well to sign, too. His fingers are long and quick, so it’s easy for him to make some of the shapes, even if they’re wobbly. He’s a fast learner and is eager to pick up on a way for them to properly communicate.
“So Eugene is your,” he stops and attempts a shaky sign for brother. Varian shakes his head and corrects with cousin. “Doesn’t treat you like one.”
Varian shrugs. He can’t possibly explain how Eugene’s overprotectiveness went ultrasonic during the apocalypse. At least, not in terms Hugo would understand.
His eyes drift over to the cabinet above his workbench and he lights up with an idea. He goes slow, signing slowly and deliberately so Hugo’s eyes can follow. Do you want to play a game?
Hugo’s face tints pink. “I’m, uh, attracted to the person, not the gender.”
Varian stares at him, totally perplexed. What kind of response was that? Hugo turns even redder the longer the silence stretches on until finally, the misunderstood message finally clicks.
No! Varian waves his hands around, his face burning. Not gay, GAME. Like a board game. I don’t care about your sexuality!
“…I didn’t get any of that,” Hugo admits, and Varian presses his face into the cot so he doesn’t have to look at the other boy. A sharp pain hits his good ear when fingers flick it.
Varian lifts his head enough to shoot the other boy a dubious look. “Don’t hide! I can’t tell what you’re thinking. What? Your eyes are pretty—” Varian jerks upright and Hugo blanches. “Expressive! Pretty expressive! That’s what I was gonna—I mean, your eyes are pretty, but—”
A giggle bubbles up past his lips, bright and unstoppable. God, Varian doesn’t know the last time he’s laughed. Hugo chuckles too, and…oh. His smile was nice.
Cheeks still hot, Varian shoots to his feet and pads over to the board game cabinet before that train of thought can continue. It’s the end of the world. He shouldn’t be getting a crush.
As soon as Hugo can walk, he insists on leaving the basement. He hasn’t seen the sun in weeks, and Varian can understand how staying trapped underground can weigh on the mind. Eugene is hesitant, worried Hugo will make too much noise. Varian insists that he knows sign well enough now that he doesn’t need to talk. Also, more importantly, Hugo is an extra pair of hands. He can help.
Eugene takes the blond around the property three times before letting him leave his sight. And even then, he sends Varian with him.
If he makes any noise, you run, Eugene tells him. He’s not worth your life.
Varian wants to snap back is Rapunzel worth yours but thinks better of it. He knows his cousin wouldn’t hesitate to lay down his life to save either of them.
Still. All of Eugene’s paranoia gets to him. He finds himself obsessively watching Hugo at all times—when he’s putting up the string lights around the property; when he’s tinkering with some mechanical supplies in the basement; when he’s redistributing the sand on the walkway to the river. As the days go by and he works in the sun, he gets freckles, spread out across his face like tiny constellations.
They look good on him.
His hair is getting long, so he starts tying it up into a little ponytail so it stays out of his eyes. The first time Varian sees it, he nearly drops the board game he was holding. He’s not blind. He knows Hugo is pretty. He just wishes he didn’t have to be that pretty.
Besides, Varian was probably making things up in his head. Normal people didn’t like him. Even in the apocalypse, he’s an outsider compared to everyone else. A freak. Broken. Weird.
“I don’t think you’re weird,” Hugo says one night when they’re playing monopoly in the basement. They use dice that are made out of foam and little tufts of stuffing as pieces. They’ve been at it for hours, and Hugo is losing. “I think you’re a cheater.”
No, I’m smarter than you, Varian says. Accept defeat now.
Hugo sticks out his tongue and signs back NEVER. Varian hates that it makes his stomach flip.
The days blur together. Rapunzel’s due date is coming in hot, but with three of them now, it makes preparations so much easier. Hugo even helps out with his chores, which ends up making them fun. Varian had no idea how much he’d have so much to say to someone before.
Hugo is naturally curious about him, about his old life, about the things Before. Varian tells him how his father was the chief of police in their small town, how his mother worked as a lab technician in a nearby hospital. How he’d always wanted to be an inventor, to work with chemicals and science like his mom when he grew up.
What do you mean when you grow up? Hugo asks. It makes Varian pause from where he’s collecting water by the river. You’re doing it now. You came up with those mixtures, didn’t you?
Varian looks down, suddenly bashful. Eugene helped.
Not everyone can make homemade fireworks, Hugo insists. That’s worth bragging about.
Varian goes to tell him no, but a hand catches his hand to stop the movement. Blue eyes flicker down to where their hands are locked together. Hugo’s fingers are long and surprisingly warm. Varian’s fingers twitch, wanting to slide their palms together.
Hugo rips their fingers apart, pink high on his cheeks. His eyes flicker everywhere but at Varian, stilling up at something in the distance. What’s that?
Varian follows where his finger is pointing. In the distance, the tip of a red roof peeks through the trees. Ranger’s tower, he says. It was probably used as an emergency station, to sound a siren in case of a forest fire or radio for help in case a hiker got injured.
Hugo stares at it for a little too long, his eyes alight with curiosity. And then, he starts to step toward it.
Varian grabs him by the elbow, holding him back with a scowl. Off the path. Not safe.
The blond shrugs out of his grip with an annoyed eye roll. Nowhere is safe. Varian’s glare doesn’t let up, but Hugo doesn't back down either. What if there is something cool up there?
Varian wants to snap that nothing cool is worth their lives. Instead, he grabs Hugo again, forcefully pulling him a few steps onto the sand path before Hugo wriggles free.
Come with me, Hugo insists when Varian tries to tell him to stop. Don’t you want to explore? Do science? Aren’t you curious?
And…well. Varian was. But he also wasn’t stupid. Leaving the path could mean certain death. The crunch of a branch could be your funeral bell.
We can make a new path as we go, Hugo points out. Do you trust me?
Varian’s only known this boy for a few weeks. The correct answer should be no. But instead, he finds himself nodding. For better or worse—he did trust Hugo.
The other boy smiles. There was a glint of mischief on the edges of his lips. We’ll be safe, I promise. Then, the blond does something that makes Varian’s heart stutter. He hooks the pinkie of his left hand into Varian’s right. Varian stares at their interlocked fingers for a beat too long before pulling away with a shaky smile.
The next day, they lug out a few sandbags into the forest and make their own path. Varian goes first since he’s known these woods longer, pouring a generous amount of sand down before either of them takes a barefooted step. The tower isn’t actually that far from the house, but it feels like it takes them a hundred years to get there, foraging into the unknown.
The structure is half covered in roots and ivy crawling up its rusted scaffolding. There’s a ladder, but it starts five feet off the ground. The bottom of it barely brushes against Varian’s head.
Varian snatches Hugo’s wrist out of the air when he reaches for it. Green and blue eyes lock in a heated glare. There was a big difference between sneaking out here and actually climbing it. It was obviously rusty—it could break apart! Then they’d both be so dead.
Hugo squirms out of his grip, using his other hand to reach up and grab the lowest rung. It doesn’t make any noise, at least not as far as he can tell. The metal holds firm. Silent.
The blond grins. He crouches, weaving his hands together as a makeshift step. Varian hesitates only for a second, the excitement of discovery outweighing the uncertainty churning in his stomach.
Hugo boosts him up, then jumps to grab the rung once Varian has climbed up high enough past it. This tower has got to be at least ninety feet tall to peer above the treeline. He refuses to look down until he reaches the top ledge.
He hauls himself up onto the rickety platform and peers into the cab. The door is locked when he tries it, and the windows are fogged over from mildew and general disuse. He presses his hands to squint inside, and spys what looks like an old radio system that must connect to the giant siren that’s on the top of the tower’s roof.
They could try to break in, but breaking down the door would be too loud, and shattering glass was not an option. Varian knows Eugene could pick a lock, but Eugene would blow a gasket if he knew they'd strayed off the path.
Varian turns to look at his companion, expecting Hugo to wear a similar look of melancholy. The blond isn’t looking at him. Varian slides up next to him to see what’s got his attention, and—oh.
Up this high, the valley looks like an endless ocean of green. He can see the way the river cuts through the mountains, dividing the endless looming giants. The air is crisper up here—cleaner. Birds fly high above it all, not a care in the world. With this much beauty, it’s easy to forget.
Varian unconsciously leans a little closer, and Hugo leans in too. The back of their hands' brush, their pinkies locking together.
On nights when it storms, Varian works in the barn. It’s got a whole table full of his tools, with various wires and guts of hearing aids he’s been trying to perfect into something stronger. The downpour and thunder are loud enough to hide any sounds of tinkering. Nature’s camouflage.
Hugo comes with him. Mostly to keep him company, but also as a precaution to let him know when the rain dies down enough to when they’ll have to go back inside. Eugene or Rapunzel have followed him out here before, but it’s different with Hugo. The other boy’s presence makes him feel warm inside despite the chill of the air.
Hugo spends most of his time poking around the barn, looking through old machinery and generally snooping. Varian did the same thing when they first arrived here, so he lets Hugo do what he wants as long as he doesn't touch any of the shotguns. Not even the rain could disguise the sound of a bullet. After a while, he feels a gentle rap on the table and looks up to see Hugo holding a baseball bat and a package of old nails. Varian meets the blond’s wide grin with confusion.
Like an action movie, Hugo says, then mimes swinging the bat at an imaginary villain. Varian rolls his eyes, but can’t stop the corners of his lips quirking up. What a dork.
He helps hold the bat down as Hugo hammers the nails in. He's surprisingly good with tools, and doesn’t slam his thumb with the head of the hammer. Not even once. Varian is absurdly disappointed and wishes that he did, just so he could kiss the wound better.
When they bring it back to the basement, Rapunzel smiles in amusement.
"Very resourceful," she says, ruffling Hugo's hair.
Eugene sighs. “I guess it’s better than a gun.”
It happens in the middle of the night.
They were on the edge of the property, past the cornfields and far enough away from the trees to stargaze properly with the telescope Hugo found in the barn. Eugene insisted on coming out with them—Varian suspects it's more to chaperone than to stargaze, which is equally annoying and embarrassing.
Varian is squinting through the telescope, but pauses when there's a new light that seeps through the lens. He pulls back, and his heart plunges.
The string lights above the farm are tinged red.
Eugene is already gone, sprinting back toward the house. He doesn’t look to see if the two of them follow. Varian quickly grabs Hugo’s hand and hurries after his cousin, tugging the blond along behind. It’s so dark it’s difficult to see the sand path, but he can hardly care right now.
The baby is coming.
Follow the plan, Varian reminds himself, willing his racing heart to calm. If they followed the plan, everything would be okay.
Eugene runs into the barn, making a beeline for a shotgun. Varian makes a grab for the lighter, but a hand grabs his shoulder, pressing a pistol into his palms instead. The cool metal feels like it’s going to burn his flesh.
Eugene's gaze is firm. Get to the house.
Varian blanches, white hot panic bolting through him. This—this wasn’t the plan! When shaking hands, he signs, Fireworks.
Hugo can light the fireworks, Eugene tells him. I’ll be with him. You stay with her in case it doesn’t work.
Horror rolls through Varian’s stomach. Doesn't work? He doesn’t want to think about that. He shoves the gun back into Eugene’s hand. Not the plan.
The hand on his shoulder comes up to cup the side of his face. Something in Eugene's face softens, turns pleading. I need you to protect her.
Varian shakes his head vehemently and pulls out of Eugene's grip, heat prickling at his eyes. He wants to punch his cousin in the nose. He doesn’t want to go into the house alone, doesn’t want to leave the people he loved out here in the dark—
Hugo slides closer to his side. Had he known Eugene was going to change the plan? Probably. It feels like a betrayal. Still, Varian lets the blond take his trembling hands in his own. Hugo’s hands are warm and they give a reassuring squeeze. Before he lets go, he weaves their pinkies together in a silent promise.
Varian inhales shakily, blinking rapidly. The message in Hugo’s eyes is silent, but there.
Trembling, he takes the pistol. He’s never even shot one before, and the realization that he might have to do it right on his first try is terrifying.
The wind whips around him, silent and angry, as he races back to the house. He nearly skids across the floor when his feet hit something wet. Blood? Amniotic fluid? He doesn’t stop to tell, racing up the stairs as fast as he can while keeping his feet placed exactly on the right spots on the stairs so he doesn’t make a sound.
Rapunzel is already in the bathtub, face contorting in silent agony. Her dress is long enough that it covers everything, thankfully. Surprise cracks through the pain on her face when she sees him. Fireworks, she signs quickly. I need—
She doesn’t get to finish, gripping both sides of the tub as a new wave of pain rolls through her. Varian puts his hand on top of hers, aching for a way to make her feel better.
Soon, he promises her. He hopes he’s right. They’ll be coming soon. She nods, then bites her quivering lip so hard it bleeds. Tell me what you need.
Even in the midst of her misery, she pulls on a smile. Just you here with me.
Varian doesn’t know anything about what giving birth entails, and he really doesn’t want to find out. He keeps his gaze on the little window of the bathroom, giving her the most privacy he can while letting her squeeze his hand until he’s sure she’s cracked bone. Every beat of his heart thrums for the lights.
He'd constructed the formula for the fireworks himself, but they couldn't test them without alerting those creatures. What if the chemicals didn’t light? What if they were a dud? Please, come on, Hugo…
Rapunzel starts to shake. She lets out a low groan. Panic shoots down his spine at the noise. Her body arches up, her face twists—
And then, the sky explodes.
The sound of the fireworks is so loud it makes his hearing aid buzz with feedback. Rapunzel screams, the noise totally drowned out by the supersonic BOOMs coming from outside. And then, just as quickly as this all started, it’s over, and there’s a new life in Rapunzel’s arms.
The baby is bloody and squirmy. Totally gross. Varian feels dizzy with relief. No monsters in sight. Their plan had worked.
He brings over a few towels, and Rapunzel cleans and swaddles the baby. It’s a girl.
What's her name? he asks.
“Dawn,” she breathes. She looks exhausted as she hands him the squirming bundle of human. Her head lolls against the side of the porcelain, boneless. “Go, I’ll be there soon. Just let me catch my breath.”
Varian gives her water, more towels, and a bottle of painkillers that certainly wouldn’t be enough but would have to do. He balances the baby on one hip and descends the steps as carefully as possible.
That batch of fireworks should have been loud enough to draw any creatures out into the woods, leading them farther away from the house to the river. It’s a perfect plan to eliminate any trail of noise left behind. They were all to meet back in the basement and wait the rest of the night out, then pack up and leave to go somewhere new once Rapunzel had recovered enough to travel.
After all, that much noise would draw people, too.
He hits the bottom of the staircase and is abruptly struck with an overwhelming feeling of wrongness. It makes his hair stand on end. He glances around in the dark and strains his ears to listen, but can’t hear anything past the rush of his pulse. Nothing seems amiss, but the shadows could be lying.
He inches closer to the trap door of the basement, frantic eyes bouncing between the shadows. Fear curls in the base of his spine.
A shadow moves in the kitchen.
Primal terror rocks him to his core. There was a monster. Looming tall and dark, it was a giant bat-like predator with no eyes, no wings, and too many rows of teeth in a face that unfurled like a venus fly trap. It was a nine-foot-tall mismatched nightmare of lean muscle and knobby bone.
He couldn’t make it to the basement, not with that thing less than ten feet away. And he’d forgotten the gun upstairs next to the bathtub.
His joints lock up in fear. He doesn’t breathe. He automatically presses himself against the wall, pressing Dawn closer to his chest. Just stay quiet, he tells himself. It can’t see you.
The creature unfurls its giant mouth, white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. The sharp fangs vibrate against one another, and Varian can actually see the soundwave they create pulsate through the air.
Then, his left ear explodes.
Loud feedback radiates from his hearing aid, so sharp it feels like someone has stabbed him in the eardrum with an ice pick. Tears automatically well up in his eyes and he cringes at the pain.
The monster rears up, flower-like face opening further as though it were forced. It lets out a shriek so loud that it vibrates the floor.
And that’s when Dawn starts crying.
Varian’s feet move before he has time to think. He’s bolting out the door of the house just seconds before the creature comes racing after him, tearing apart the wooden structure as it goes. He jumps down the porch stairs and makes a break for the barn—he needs to find another weapon. To find Eugene. To just get away.
He sprints between the cornrows, trying to go in a zigzag formation to get it off his trail. He can’t tell where it is behind him. He doesn’t dare slow down to look.
He bursts out of the cornrows like a bat out of hell. The barn looms just ahead in the darkness. A shot of hope bursts through his chest—and it makes him clumsy.
His foot catches on a piece of tractor equipment. He twists mid-air so that he lands on his back to take the brunt of the fall, but that means he gets to see the instant the creature explodes out of the corn, claws pinwheeling and propelling it forward.
Varian doesn’t have time to scream. He doesn’t even have time to close his eyes. He spends his final seconds pressing Dawn impossible closer, certain he’s just looked death in the eyes—
Hugo comes out of nowhere, slamming the creature in the head with his nail bat.
It gets hit but doesn’t go down, instead turning to him and unfurling its mouth in an ear-piercing roar. It lets out that same clicking, the feedback so much louder now that it’s so close. Varian can’t help his own cry of pain, one hand flying up to his left ear to cradle the sensitive spot.
The creature shakes its head, disoriented and confused. Hugo doesn’t waste a second, surging forward and slamming the bat into the pinkish inside of its head over and over again until it finally lays still on the ground. Dead.
Hugo lets the bat slip out of his hands, collapsing to his knees. Varian scrambles across the grass over to him. For a moment, they both stare at each other, stunned and panting. Varian uses one of his hands to messily wipe at the splats of black ichor that now doted Hugo’s face. The blond playfully baps his hands away, and Varian can’t help the tiny relieved smile that spreads across his face.
Hugo glances between the dead creature, still unfurled and bloody, then back to him. There’s a calculation happening behind his eyes that Varian doesn’t understand. Whatever Hugo is thinking, he seems to come to a conclusion. The blond shoots him a wavering, somewhat feral grin, then leaps to his feet and takes off to the barn.
Varian stumbles after him. He has no idea what Hugo’s thinking but running was the right call. They can’t be here for much longer. That was loud, and Dawn was still crying. There were bound to be more creatures coming.
Inside the barn, Hugo is at the old workbench, tearing apart an old portable dispatch radio. He’s elbow deep in the wires, hell-bent on something. Varian grabs his shoulder and tries to pull him away—he has the baby, and he needs Hugo to find a weapon.
Hugo shoves him off. Varian bristles and yanks back on his shoulder harder. The blond whirls around, pointing at the crying baby and making a rather rude gesture. Varian tiffs, but puts his knuckle in Dawn’s mouth to pacify her.
While Hugo does…whatever he’s doing, Varian looks for a weapon. He can't find another gun, but spots a pitchfork that’s near a bundle of straw. That could work.
He gently sets Dawn down on the bale, minding her head. She’d be easy prey if she was outside—not that this barn was much better shelter. At least out there, they could defend themselves. She’s thankfully stopped crying, blinking her huge, watery green eyes up at him.
Don’t worry, you’ll see your parents soon, he thinks. There’s a hot lump in his throat. Even in his head, it sounds like a lie.
A hand tugs sharply on his wrist, pulling him away from the stack. Hugo is gesturing wildly, half-signs and frantic movements too fast for Varian to understand. Before he can decipher it, Hugo goes still, head snapping to the doorway. Varian strains his ears, but his eardrum is still throbbing. The only thing he can hear is the ringing of panic and his own heartbeat.
Hugo moves toward the open door, footsteps quick and silent. Varian follows him out into the night, heart flatlining at the sight that awaits him.
Two monsters are outside. Two. Varian realizes with horror they must have followed him here. Eugene is standing between them and the barn's entrance, shotgun held high. His brow is drawn down low in concentration, and without looking away from the scope, jerks his chin as a silent command to the both of them to get back inside.
Instead Hugo surges forward, flicking on the radio at his hip. There’s a loud rush of static and it makes the creatures turn toward him. In unison, both creatures unfurl their faces and let out that clicking. The feedback is immediate and sharp in Varian’s ear, making him bow over and cringe.
But it’s not just him that’s hearing it.
The feedback is coming from the radio, too. Hugo’s taken one of his old hearing aids and held it against the dispatch mic. The creatures rear back, convulsing. Eugene takes a shot, hitting one square in the head. Its skull explodes in a mess of ichor and bone.
He cocks the gun, then hits the second one. It goes down too. The man whirls around to look at Hugo in shock, wide eyes taking in the radio.
The third monster neither of them see coming. It tears through the field like an oncoming train, leaping out of the brush and making a swipe for the top of Eugene’s head. Thinking fast, Varian throws the pitchfork like a spear, clipping it in the side of its skull. It’s not enough to hurt it, but the momentum is enough to throw it off course so that it barrels into the side of the barn.
This one doesn’t waste time with sonar—it already knows where they are. It propels itself forward, even as Eugene shoots it. Its face isn’t opened enough, Varian realizes in panic. The bullets ricochet off its tough skin-like armor.
It prowls closer, claws digging up the earth as it goes. Bullets keep flying, but it keeps coming—pieces of its flowered head are getting blown off, but this one is determined. White-hot terror hits when the gun clicks with an empty cartridge.
Varian clasps Hugo’s hand hard. Eugene flips the weapon around, the blunt stock raised like a bat. The creature looms close, decayed breath rattling in a wailing cry.
And then—
Something huge and black clangs on the side of the monster’s head, taking the creature by surprise. It buckles, and Eugene springs into action, slamming the butt of the gun into its skull until it stops moving. Varian squints at what was thrown. A cast-iron frying pan.
In unison, the three of them turn to look at where it came from.
It’s Rapunzel. Still in her bloodied dress, still a mess from literally just giving birth—she slowly slips to the ground, shaking legs no longer able to support herself. Eugene is over to her in a flash, wrapping an arm around her and letting her lean against his chest for support.
Varian wants to relax, but he’s not sure if he can. His family is safe, but there was no telling how long that would last. But—that radio. He glances down at it, still gripped in Hugo’s white-knuckled hand. It had enhanced the feedback that was hurting it. It had weakened them. Weakened them enough to be killed.
Varian glances up at the blond, expecting him to look satisfied with this discovery. But Hugo isn’t looking at them. He’s staring off into the distance, gaze barely above the tree line. It takes only a heartbeat for Varian to place where he’s looking.
The ranger’s tower.
Like lightning, his hand snatches Hugo’s arm. Green eyes lock with his, a moment of shared realization between the both of them.
If one handheld dispatch radio could incapacitate two creatures, what would the amplification of a tower siren do?
Varian doesn’t waste time, dashing back into the barn. With one sweeping motion, he shoves every minuscule piece of hearing aid supplies he’s ever had into a bag, stuffing a few tools and a flashlight. When he reemerges, Eugene looks up for the first time, panicked tension on his face again when he sees the bag.
Baby is inside, Varian tells him. You stay here. Then, he takes Hugo’s hand and dashes into the woods before his cousin can stop them.
They race between the trees to the tower, paying no mind to the cracking and crunching of the brush beneath their feet. There wasn’t time to be quiet. They just had to get there before the monsters got them. Varian runs faster than he ever has in his life, pushing his legs to move to keep up with Hugo’s long stride.
They reach the base of the tower and Hugo boosts him up, just like before. Varian climbs as fast as his shaking hands will let him, the rusty metal gritty underneath his sweaty palms. He’s halfway up when he feels the metal underneath him shudder.
He glances down and a scream catches in his throat. One of those monsters is climbing up the rungs, too-long limbs tearing up the metal ten times faster than them. Hugo’s fingers quickly find the metal pins keeping the first half of the ladder in place and tugs them apart seconds before the creature reaches his ankles. The ladder gives, and the creature falls, arms still swiping.
A claw catches Hugo’s leg.
He lets out a guttural cry as he’s yanked down the rungs. The talon rips through flesh, muscle, and pantleg, and finally, the creature falls. Hugo barely hangs on by one hand on the last rung.
For one terrifying moment, Hugo’s feet kick out at the air, dangling over death forty feet off the ground. He grits his teeth, and with effort, hauls himself up.
Varian feels lightheaded. He presses his forehead to the rusty ladder rung and takes a second to just breathe. That was too close. That thing knew they were here now and it wouldn't stop until it found another way to climb up to get them. They only had one shot at this.
His arms feel like jelly by the time they reach the tower’s cab. Varian braces himself, then rams into the door with his shoulder. The wood gives easily, the hinges weak from time and rust.
The air inside is stale with mildew and rot. The windows are so smudged and filthy that the soft pink rays of the morning sun can’t filter through. He pulls out a flashlight from his bag and shines a light onto the dashboard as Hugo limps past him. Blood runs thickly down his calf, the red inside of his muscle barely seen through marred flesh and torn fabric.
Hugo ignores it all, stooping low to rip open the underside of the control panel. It’s a tangle of old wires, vines, and spiderwebs. He tears through them all until he finds what he’s looking for, touching two exposed wires together to create a spark.
Harsh fluorescent light fills the room. Varian wants to sob in relief.
Hugo flicks on various switches and buttons, the old generators whirring to life. Varian sees the red lights flicker on and feels the vibration of the microphone frequency when he turns it on through the siren outside.
What if it doesn’t—he starts to sign, but Hugo quickly grasps his hand, silencing him. The other boy’s palm is sweaty and covered in grime, but still feels so perfect within his own. Green eyes are alight with fragility, grim determination, and affection.
Hugo says nothing, but Varian understands every word.
He takes Varian’s hearing aid, letting his fingers linger for a breath of a moment on his cheek, then slams it against the microphone.
Without the aid, Varian can’t hear the feedback, but he feels the way the walls around them shake. Hugo cringes and curls into himself but doesn’t let go, turning the siren’s speakers up to their max. The world seems to crack open, shuddering and shrieking.
And then.
Nothing.
Varian’s heart races as he tears himself away from Hugo and glances out the smudged window. He squints down at the forest floor, the orange light of the morning illuminating a hulking black form at the base of the tower, curled up on its back like a dead insect. A puddle of black gore surrounded what was left of its head.
Varian whirls back around, the whiplash of terror to pure relief making him so giddy he can barely walk. He stumbles into Hugo’s arms, practically flopping against the taller boy. Hugo barely catches him, his own stance shaky on his good leg. Varian feels lighter than he has in months, the leftover adrenaline making him brave.
He stands on his toes and slots their lips together.
Hugo stiffens in surprise, and for a second Varian is worried he made a mistake. But then, the other boy is moving, hands coming up to his face to draw him closer. Varian’s never actually been kissed before, but he thinks this is a good reference point. Hugo tastes like sunshine, board games, long nights and an even longer future.
When they break apart, they press their foreheads together, breathing the same air. Hugo has gone pink underneath his freckles. Varian bites down on a giddy grin.
Did we just save the world? Varian asks.
Did we just become boyfriends? Hugo responds.
Blushing furiously, Varian punches him in the shoulder. I never taught you how to sign that.
The blond offers him a crooked grin. Varian’s stomach swoops as if he’s been flying over the valley. Had to figure it out on my own. How else was I supposed to ask you?
Varian laughs, the feeling so bright it’s like the curtains have pulled back and let sunshine into his soul. Hugo draws him closer, wrapping his arms around him and tucking his head under his chin. Varian feels the pounding of the other boy’s heart against his cheek.
He has no idea if they killed all the monsters in the valley. He has no idea if there were more coming for them at this very moment. But right now, the sun was shining through the musty windows, casting the room in a bright radiant glow, and they were alive. For now, that was enough.