Outside the window the snow fell steadily, glimmering in the dying light of the setting sun. Baz watched it fall, leaning one hip against the bottom ledge of the window, his arms crossed over his chest. He could hear Severin muttering behind him, though he tuned out the actual words; something he’d become adept at doing in the past week. Severin never seemed to actually realize he was doing it but as soon as he started concentrating on something, he started talking to himself. Baz didn’t need to look at him—or listen—to know that he was still going over the books they’d managed to salvage from the remains of the library, trying to find something that would help them. By now Baz thought they could both quote the books verbatim, and none of it had really helped.
The snow had started shortly after they’d brought the books back to the police station, and continued with only short breaks for most of the past week. It had covered most of the damage in town, but it didn’t seem to deter the creatures at all. Baz had ducked out the morning before to take a look around and come across a disembowelled deer in the adjacent parking lot, its blood staining the snow in a wide fan shape. Bloody footprints—some bare, some still wearing shoes—had led away from it in all directions.
Despite the snow the temperature had been dropping steadily, turning the nights chilly enough that Baz and Severin had taken to sleeping cuddled up together under a heap of blankets to keep warm. They had a small space heater, taken from the local hardware store, but Severin refused to let it run overnight in case it set something on fire. He’d become jumpier and paranoid since the snow started, spending half his time poring over the library books and the other half praying. Sometimes it was all Baz could do to keep his temper when Severin preached at him.
Baz rubbed at his forehead, feeling a sudden wave of frustration that seemed to come from outside his own mind. He glanced quickly at Severin and wasn’t surprised to see the other boy’s green eyes narrowed in annoyance. Reading Severin’s moods had become increasingly easy recently, something Baz had at first attributed to how much time they spent cooped up together, until he realized how eerily good Severin was at predicting storms and their intensity. More than once he’d called off a trip out by saying he had a bad feeling, and within an hour the sky had clouded over and the snow had begun again.
“Hey, Sev,” he said, reminded that they were low on food. “Feel like a quick run to the store in the morning?”
“Um...” Severin dragged his eyes away from the book he was holding. “Yeah, guess we should.”
“No storms about to blow in?”
“Well, there’s always a chance of a storm, especially a sudden one, springing up, given the time of year and the eruption—”
“Okay, no storms.” Baz walked over and plucked the book from Severin’s hands. “Take a break. You spend way too much time reading these.”
“They might hold something. Some explanation or clue I’ve missed.” Severin held his hand out for the book, waiting patiently. “Can I have it back, please?”
“No. I bet you could tell me everything it says from memory. Enough, Sev. You’re not going to find answers in a book, though I know that’s kind of your thing. And even if you did find something else, what could you do about it? You’re seventeen and stuck in a police station in a town full of people who think we’re pretty much the same as KFC. Unless the instructions for a time machine are in here somewhere, we’re fucked.” Baz took a deep breath, surprised by the extent of his own anger. “So just... chill.”
“It might give me a better idea of what exactly happened, how long it’ll last, and how bad it’ll get.” Severin gave him a steady look, though Baz thought he could see—or sense— the anger lurking just underneath. “An explanation for why people ‘think we’re KFC’.”
“They went nuts. Something in the air. Don’t tell me you didn’t smell it.” Baz tightened his fingers hard enough to dimple the book’s cover.
“Smell what? Debris in the air?” Severin sighed. “If they went nuts, as you so eloquently put it, there has to be more of a reason than rain that smells funny. And there are physiological changes there too, like their sensitivity to light.”
“What made the rain smell funny?” Baz asked, determined not to let it go.
“Debris, dust, by then maybe some of the fallout had been carried over by the clouds. Or some of it might’ve been your imagination. You were under a lot of stress.”
“Yeah, kinda happens when your father tries to kill you,” Baz snapped. Severin flinched slightly, dropping his eyes, and for a moment Baz felt a strong sense of guilt that definitely wasn’t his own.
“Look, I don’t want to fight, okay?” Severin pushed the books into a pile in the center of the table. “I think I’m just going to sleep. Rest up for tomorrow’s trip.”
“Sure.” Baz hesitated then carefully placed the book he was holding on top of the pile. “I’m sorry for snapping.”
Severin gave him a tired smile. “Don’t worry about it. We’re both stressed.”
Baz shrugged. “Sleep well.” He went back to the window and watched the snow until it grew too dark to see, then pulled the blinds and went to check on Severin. Severin slept curled up on his side like a child, his hands tucked under his chin and his dark hair fallen across his forehead. Smiling a bit, Baz pulled the blankets up a bit then grabbed his jacket and stepped outside into the snow.
He left the door slightly open behind him so he could duck back in quickly if he needed to, and looked out into the night, blinking as the wind swirled snowflakes into his face. Taking a deep breath, he tried to relax and listen to the night, clumsily attempting to focus his senses outwards. He refused to believe there was no one else out there, though they’d seen nothing in the dozen times they’d criss-crossed town.
For an instant he thought he felt something, tickling the edges of his senses like a feather. He closed his eyes and unconsciously rose a little on his tiptoes, as though physically straining would bring it into focus and stop it from feeling like an itch he couldn’t quite reach. Then just as suddenly it was gone and he was only standing outside in the snow, beginning to shiver. He sighed and turned back into the station, closing and locking the door behind him. Severin was still fast asleep and Baz was grateful to crawl under blankets already warmed by his body heat, snuggling up to Severin’s back. Closing his eyes, he quickly drifted off to sleep.
The movement of Severin sitting up woke him the next morning and brought the chill of the air across his back where his shirt had pulled up in the night. Grumbling, he pulled the blankets around himself and muttered at Severin to shut up when Severin laughed at him, then swatted at the hand that ruffled his hair. Severin let him be and walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading away in the direction of the bathroom.
Baz had almost drifted off again before Severin came back and snapped him awake by thumping down on their shared mattress. Heaving a deep sigh, Baz rolled over onto his back and pulled the blankets down enough to give Severin a dirty look.
“Good morning to you too,” Severin said, draping the towel he’d been using on his damp hair around his neck. “Sleep well?”
“I was until you started thumping around. What’s put you in such a good mood?”
“I...” Severin gave him a crooked smile, cheeks reddening slightly. “I guess I just had a good dream. It felt hopeful.”
Baz grunted and rolled out from under the blankets, stumbling into the bathroom. He was midway through washing his face in the sink when he remembered what he’d sensed the night before. He paused, looking at his damp face in the mirror, then hurriedly dried off and went back out to talk to Severin.
“Hey, Sev, I don’t think we’re alone.”
Severin glanced up from sorting out their supplies, surprise clear on his face. “Did you see someone?”
“Not exactly. I, uh, sensed it, I guess. Someone out there, too far away to really feel anything but their presence briefly.”
Severin frowned at him. “What do you mean, sensed it?”
“Well, like... like sometimes I can sense what you’re feeling.” Baz felt a flash of anger at the look of pity Severin gave him. “What? What’s that look for?”
“You’re probably just feeling a bit of cabin fever. We’ve been cooped up for a while. Don’t start thinking you feel things that aren’t there.”
“Yeah, that’s great coming from a guy who believes in an invisible sky fairy because he read it in a book.” Baz rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you, I felt something.”
“Fine, you felt something,” Severin said stiffly, moving past Baz to get his coat. “Let’s go, before the next storm comes in.”
Baz thought about pointing out Severin’s ability to predict storms then decided to just get his own coat and follow Severin outside. The cold stung them as they left the police station and the wind whipped their clothing against their bodies. Walking shoulder to shoulder they hurried down the sidewalk towards the middle of town, watching the shadows carefully for any movement.
They split up once they reached the store, going in opposite directions to gather food as quickly as possible. The silence pressed down on Baz and he unconsciously began to hum under his breath, snatches of song that he remembered listening to on the radio. It helped to pass the time as he salvaged edible food from under snow and debris.
The sudden sensation of utter rage hit him like a physical blow, making him stagger. He caught himself on the shelf and cast a wide-eyed glance into the dim recesses of the store. A shadow stood there, its shoulders hunched and its arms dangling loosely by its sides. Rage billowed off it so strongly that Baz felt as though he could almost see it, a heavy black cloud shot through with red. He shook his head hard, swallowing against nausea, and began to back carefully away without taking his eyes from the shadowy figure.
He stopped when he reached a shaft of sunlight coming in through the broken front windows and looked for Severin, unsure if he was relieved or frightened to see no sign of him nearby. He glanced back at the creature and saw it had stopped just out of range of the light, close enough that the dried blood streaking its skin and clothing was visible. It paced back and forth in the shadows like a caged lion, its anger only intensifying until it nearly sent Baz to his knees. He struggled to stay upright, blinking rapidly to clear his fuzzy vision and struggling to push the anger down to a more manageable level. A sob of frustration escaped him as it only grew stronger, slipping from his tenuous control and digging into the center of his mind like an ice pick, and sending him finally to his knees.
Strong arms wrapped around him and he made a strangled noise of panic, struggling weakly. The rage consumed him, threatened to swallow him whole, but through it he heard Severin’s steady voice, urging him to breathe and relax. Slowly the rage faded and he was able to concentrate on Severin instead; the warmth of his body and the slight hitch of his breathing, and the solid core inside him that Baz latched onto until he could think again.
When he finally managed to open his eyes again, he was still on his knees and slumped against Severin, kneeling beside him. They were alone again in the store, though Baz didn’t even know when the creature had finally left. Without the steady pounding of its anger, Baz was able to get shakily to his feet, leaning on Severin until his legs were strong enough to support him.
“You okay, Baz? What happened?”
“One of those things was in here.” Baz took a deep shuddery breath. “It was so angry.”
“Did it come after you?” Severin looked him over, gently turning his face from side to side. “Are you injured?”
“No. No, I’m fine.” Baz pushed Severin’s hands away, suddenly unable to take the physical contact. “I could just feel it. That wasn’t fucking cabin fever.”
“Okay.” Severin reached out as though to stroke his hair then apparently thought better of it and dropped his hand. “It’ll get better, Baz.”
“And how the fuck would you know?” Baz leaned down to pick up the box he’d filled with food, fighting the urge to just throw it at something in a fit of his own anger.
“I have faith.” Severin steadied him with one hand on his shoulder, offering a smile.
“Whatever,” Baz muttered. “The only thing I have is a headache. Let’s go.”
Spooked by the encounter, they took only as much as they could carry, stuffing it into backpacks and carrying boxes. The snow began again as they got back to the police station, big fat flakes that drifted down lazily out of the darkening sky. By the time they’d hauled everything inside and put it away, the snow was so heavy it brought visibility down to only a couple of feet. They ate dinner in silence and went to opposite ends of the room when they were done; Severin to his books and Baz to the window, where he leaned his forehead against the cold glass and closed his eyes.
He slept, and dreamed that he was walking into town with Severin, through corridors of snow so high they seemed to lean in at the top and threaten to drop on their heads. He shivered and moved closer to Severin, but Severin stepped away, his head tilted back as he looked up at the heavy grey clouds above them. He glanced back once and Baz flinched at the sight of his eyes, black from lid to lid. Then he began to climb into the sky, reaching up with one hand as the clouds lowered towards him in a twisting spiral. Baz lunged to catch him but his fingers missed, just brushing the edge of Severin’s shirt. He could do nothing but watch as the dark clouds folded Severin into their grey embrace, stealing him away.
He jerked awake, yelping Severin’s name and causing Severin to knock over the pile of books by his elbow as he jumped. The entire pile slithered to the floor with a series of heavy thumps and the sound of rattling pages. For a long moment Baz and Severin just stared at each other with wide eyes, then Baz mustered a sheepish grin and ran his hand back through his hair.
“Nightmare. Kinda worth it just for the look on your face.” He grinned again, more naturally this time.
“I’m too young for you to give me a heart attack, Baz.” Severin picked up the books and set them neatly on the table, then stretched and came over to glance out the window. “This is a bad storm. We might be trapped in here for a while.”
“So try not to kill each other?”
“That would be nice.” Severin glanced at him. “Want to just go to bed?”
“Are preacher’s sons even allowed to say those words? Especially to another guy?”
“Sometimes I really don’t like you, Baz.” Severin straightened up and walked away, going into the little kitchen and shutting the door behind him hard enough to make Baz wince slightly.
“It was just a joke,” Baz said to the empty air. “Don’t need to get so sensitive.” He debated going after Severin then decided to just leave him alone and instead turned his attention back to the hypnotizing fall of the snow in the darkness outside.
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