chipper9906

[chipper9906]

hi i just wanted to say that I love your work!! You write the characters so well!! It’s just like the game haha

Thank you! Glad to hear you enjoy my fics :)

[chipper9906]

Switch - Chapter 5

Pairings: Dylan Lenivy/Ryan Erzahler

Chapter Word Count: 14,020

Overall Word Count: 52,863

Status: Multi-Chapter - Complete (5/5)

Chapter Preview:  

“Guess we should ask…” Dylan mutters in response, clearing his throat before speaking louder. "Hey, uh… Not Laura, as you can probably tell, but uh… Who are you?”

“My name’s Max. I’m… I was supposed to be one of the counselors here, but uh… It’s kind of a long story as to why I’m not and… why I’m here.”

“Wait… Max?” Dylan asks, stepping closer to the doors. “Max as in… Laura’s boyfriend? That Max?”

“Uh… Yeah?” Max replies through the door. “And that is my full name, just to be clear. First name ‘Max’, last name ‘Larua’s boyfriend’.”

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04:31 | AUGUST 23 - MAX

 The lake of Hackett’s Quarry looked less than inviting, with its inky black surface lapping at the legs of the dock. Max had already been here once, standing on the dock. He had been here a few times actually, going to and from it, trying to convince himself it was a good idea to get in the water and swim to the other side, back to the mainland. 

HACKETT’S QUARRY ISLAND

But was it?

Laura had left him here, had told him to stay here until she comes and gets him for a reason. Given the fact that he was human now, and the moon still hung in the sky, he could only assume that Laura had done it — she had ended his curse. So, technically, he’s not a danger to anyone anymore. And whilst that surely meant the danger was over, there had been a little voice in the back of his head that kept him put on the island, not willing to brave the cold waters and whatever awaits him on the other side. 

And that little voice in his head just happened to sound a lot like Laura’s, saying “Don’t be an idiot, keep your ass right here.”

And he had. For about… maybe an hour now, if he were to guess, he had remained right here on the island. All he had to do was wait, right? Once Laura had killed Chris Hackett, she would be making her way here, making her way to him. Except… as he said — it had been an hour, and she still wasn’t here. That’s not to say that something was wrong of course. After all, Hackett’s Quarry was a pretty big place. It could easily take more than an hour for Laura to make her way back here. 

And that would be enough to put Max’s mind at ease… If it hadn’t been for the fact that he woke up in a goddamn tree. 

Something had gone wrong. It had to have. If it had gone right, then he should have woken up back in the tree house, locked away on its upper floor. But he didn’t. Someone had let him out, whether on purpose or by accident, he didn’t know. The only reassurance he had that whoever had let him out was still alive was the lack of a body anywhere on the island. And he checked. Thoroughly. Not much else to do while he waits…

Oh, and that’s not to mention the fact that someone had stolen his friggen clothes.

So, here he was again. Stood on the edge of the dock, looking down into the endless abyss that was the lake, trying to convince himself that this was the right thing to do. Especially given he had heard a damn gunshot go off somewhere in the distance, and--

Wait… Why was there a gunshot? 

If Laura had shot Chris… Then it was over, wasn’t it? Nothing left to shoot at. So who was shooting? And at what? 

Guess he had to find out…

“Alright… This seems like a bad idea.” Max said to himself as he took a seat on the edge of the dock, quietly slipping down into the water. 

“Son of a biscuit, that’s cold!” The first touch of freezing water enveloping his body makes his breath catch, fighting through his muscle's desire to tense up to keep swimming and keep himself afloat. He takes quick, rapid breaths — the only kinds his lungs will allow him to take in his body’s shock — a part of him already regretting this. “Jeez, isn’t it supposed to be summer?”

Max swims as quickly but as quietly as he can, heading towards the other dock he can just about make out in the distance. He doesn’t want to spend another minute more in this cold water than he has to, but he’d also rather not splash about in the water and let everyone and everything in the near vicinity be alerted to his presence. 

His fingers, which had already begun to stiffen from the cold, require a little more effort than usual to wrap around the wooden posts of the dock. Max heaves with the effort as he clambers up it, dragging himself over the edge of the dock. He flops onto his back, staring up at the star-dotted sky as he catches his breath. 

There’s a part of him that’s almost expecting for something to come rushing out from the trees and maul him to death, but nothing of the sort happens. The trees remain still, apart from the occasional rustle as the wind whistles through them. His teeth began to chatter, Laura’s now soaked clothes suctioned to his skin. 

Max groans as he rolls over and clambers up to his hands and knees, then up onto his feet. Drops of water had begun to cascade down from Laura’s cap, dripping down his face. He pulled the hat off his head, gripping it in both hands and wringing out as much lake water as he can before plopping it back atop his head. 

“Okay, Max… Time to get a move on before you freeze to death…”

All well and good in theory, except for the part where he has no idea where he is or where to go. In the direction of the gunshot seemed like a bad idea on all accounts… But, there’s every chance it could be Laura, or even just someone that needs help, plus… It beats wandering aimlessly around the woods. 

Not one lick of these woods seemed familiar to Max, and why would they? He had only seen the once on his way to the island, and there were other things on his mind as he and Laura trekked over to his temporary holding cell than taking in the scenery. 

“Let’s sign up to be camp counselors for the summer, that’ll look great on our college resumes!” Max narrated to himself as he made his way down the dark and creepy trails of Hackett’s Quarry Summer Camp. “Yeah… What a fun summer this was…”

  * * *

  4:50 | AUGUST 23 - DYLAN

HACKETT’S QUARRY LODGE

 “Jesus, Dylan… Would you stop gawking at the dude?” 

Dylan looked away from the monitors only to be greeted by Ryan’s rather unimpressed look, to which he only deepens Ryan’s frown by cheerfully smiling at him. “Aww, no need to be jealous, babe. You know I love you the most.”

“I, uh- it’s… that-- I mean, u-um, you--”

“Wow, I actually just witnessed the breaking of Ryan’s brain,” said Emma, looking back at the two over her shoulder. 

“Guys, shouldn’t we be focusing on this right now?” Abi hissed, poking at the figure on the monitor. “What do we do? He’s obviously coming to the lodge.”

“Well, he doesn’t have any weapons. Not that I can see, anyway,” Emma says, turning her attention back to the monitors. “Kinda hard to tell though… You’d think Mr. H would have splurged on some fancy 4K cameras if it was this important to record the perimeter of the camp at all times.”

“At least it has night vision,” said Abi. 

“Yeah, so Dylan can check out random guy’s abs…” Ryan mumbled. 

“Uh, you mentioned the abs, not me,” Dylan pointed out. 

“Sounds like someone's a little jealous…” Emma sang, getting a light smack to the arm from Abi. 

Ryan scoffed. “I’m not jealous--”

“Focus, guys, focus,” Abi snapped. “Seriously, what do we do? Is he… is he one of the Hackett’s?”

“I don’t think so…” Dylan glanced over to Ryan. “Ryan, you know them better than us. Anyone in the family you think this could be?”

Ryan shook his head. “Chris didn’t talk much about his family past Kaylee and Caleb -- and that his mom lives in that house in the woods. I didn’t even know his brother was a cop until Laura told us about him.”

“Okay, so… if it’s not one of the Hackett’s, then… who the hell is right outside the lodge?” Abi asks. All four of them exchanged worried glances, the figure on the monitor getting closer and closer to the lodge…

“We could just… go out and ask him?” Emma suggests. “It’s not like he has a weapon, right? And we do. He might need our help.”

“I… think it’s better we stay here,” Ryan says. “We can keep an eye on the monitors, keep track of him--”

“Okay, and what if he tries to get inside the lodge?” Dylan asks. “Which, y’know, why wouldn’t he, given he’s headed in this direction?”

“Alright… Alright, I’m gonna go get the gun and go wait by the entrance,” Ryan says. His eyes swivel over to Dylan, the beginnings of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I’d say it’d be safer for you to stay here, but I know better than to make that suggestion given the number of times you’ve saved my ass tonight.”

“Damn right,” Dylan agrees, returning Ryan’s half-smile. “Now come on, let’s go see if ‘Mister Mystery Hot Dude’ is good or bad.”

“I knew you thought he was hot--”

“We’ve covered this Ryan: dude is hot; not as hot as you; your tongue was down my throat like five minutes ago; now go -- get gun.”

Ryan huffed, turning around and heading back towards Mr. H’s office, knowing full well there was nothing he could come up with to respond to that. Dylan followed after him, leaving a rather stunned Abi and Emma. 

“I’m not sure if that was cute, or gross,” Abi comments. 

“Both. It was both, I think.” Emma shakes her head, clearing her thoughts. She looks over to the monitors for one last look, taking in a deep breath. “We should probably follow, right?”

“Might as well…”

They only lagged behind the two boys for a few seconds, but Ryan already had the shotgun in hand by the time they entered the room, loading in another shell. He cocked the gun back into place, nodding to the three of them before leading them towards the door and back out to the main area of the lodge. 

They all remain silent as they tip-toe through the lodge, despite the fact they knew there was no longer anything dangerous inside. At least, as far as they knew -- and as much as the cameras could show them. Ryan takes the lead, sweeping the flashlight around the lodge as they move towards the main doors. 

Ryan comes to a sudden stop, and Dylan already knows why before he’s even seen it. He already knew that right there in front of them, just outside the kitchen doors, just by the entrance to the entire lodge… was Caleb’s body. He had hoped that Ryan would never have to see it, would be spared the pain of it, but… it was likely to happen at some point. He steps up to Ryan’s side, looking over to see the sheen of pain in Ryan’s eyes as he stares down at Caleb’s blood-soaked body. Dylan has no words of comfort to offer, so he simply places his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. 

“We should… we should move him…” Ryan mumbles, tearing his eyes away from Caleb to look over to Dylan. “We can’t just leave him here in the walkway…”

“Yeah… Yeah, okay,” Dylan agrees softly. He looks at his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, then to Caleb, then… to his non-existent other hand. Pushing around tables was one thing, but lifting a body? There was no denying that there would be some limitations now he was down a hand… “Um… I, uh…”

“We got this,” Emma cuts in, nearly making Dylan and Ryan jump as both she and Abi appear at their sides. 

Abi looked a little uneasy at the thought, but it only took one glance at Ryan’s distraught face for her to nod her head in agreement. “Yeah, we can do it, Ryan. You should be keeping an eye on the door, anyway.”

Ryan nodded his head, shooting the two a slightly wobbly smile — which Dylan knew full well took a lot of effort from Ryan right now. “I, um… Thank you. I’m not sure if I… If I could have…”

Emma reached out, giving Ryan a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Ryan began to move forward again, past Caleb’s body, not wanting to look at it for a second more. Dylan followed close behind, glancing over his shoulder to see Abi and Emma had already managed to get Caleb off the floor, Emma holding him up by his shoulders whilst Abi had grabbed his legs, carefully manoeuvring him over to one of the nearby tables. 

“You didn’t have a choice, Ryan,” Dylan does his best to comfort him, already able to see the blame Ryan was placing on himself. “If you hadn’t--”

“I don’t regret it,” Ryan suddenly cut in, his gaze snapping from the door in front over to Dylan. “And I think that’s part of why I feel as shit as I do… Because I don’t feel as shit as I should. But if doing what I did meant you were safe? Then I’d do it all over again. In a heartbeat. I just… I wish it didn’t come down to this.”

A knock at the door stopped any other words Dylan was going to say in response to that. Both he and Ryan look to the door, Ryan slowly bringing the shotgun up and keeping it aimed right at center mass. Dylan could see Abi and Emma out of the corner of his eye, the two of them having made their way back over to them at the sound of the knock. 

“Hello?” A voice they don’t recognize calls out, muffled from the other side of the door. “Laura? Are you in there?”

“Laura?” Ryan mutters, keeping his voice low so whoever was on the other side couldn’t hear him. “He knows Laura?”

“Guess we should ask…” Dylan mutters in response, clearing his throat before speaking louder. "Hey, uh… Not Laura, as you can probably tell, but uh… Who are you?”

“My name’s Max. I’m… I was supposed to be one of the counselors here, but uh… It’s kind of a long story as to why I’m not and… why I’m here.”

“Wait… Max?” Dylan asks, stepping closer to the doors. “Max as in… Laura’s boyfriend? That Max?”

“Uh… Yeah?” Max replies through the door. “And that is my full name, just to be clear. First name ‘Max’, last name ‘Larua’s boyfriend’.”

Dylan snorted, getting a sneaking suspicion that he and Max were going to get along just fine — likely to the displeasure of both Ryan and Laura. Ryan rolled his eyes at Dylan’s snorted laughter, lowering the shotgun as he approached the door. “Alright, I’m gonna let you in, but just… keep your hands where I can see them, okay?”

“Um… Okay?”

“Here, come help me get this out of the way,” Ryan throws over his shoulder to Dylan, grabbing hold of one end of the table they used to block the door earlier. Dylan hurries over to the other end, pushing at the table whilst Ryan pulls it, quickly removing it from the door. 

Ryan reached for the door, keeping the shotgun ready just in case as he pulled the door open. Sure enough, standing on the other side is the very same guy they say walking around on the monitors, exposed mid-riff and all. A quick scan over him proved Emma’s earlier claim right; the guy -- Max -- didn’t have any weapons in his possession. 

“Oh, man… you have no idea how nice it is to see other people,” Max said with a beaming smile, stepping through the door and into the lodge. 

“Did you swim here or something?” Ryan asked, eyeing up Max’s damp clothes whilst he closed the door behind him.

“Oh, uh…” Max glanced down at himself, throwing his arms out to the side. “…Yeah, actually. I was on that island, in the lake? I was kinda… kinda supposed to stay put actually, but I heard a gunshot, which…” Max trailed off, eyes dropping down to the gun in Ryan’s hands. “…I’m assuming was you?”

“Um… yeah,” Ryan says, eyes dropping down to the floor. Max raises an eyebrow at that, wondering where the sudden awkwardness had come from, but a quick glance to his right, to the body he could say laid out on a nearby table, answered that for him. 

“I’m, uh… I’m guessing you guys know about… y’know, everything. Or at least, I hope you do and that’s not just a random dead person over there.”

“We know as much as Laura does,” Dylan tells Max. “She caught us up to speed with everything that happened to you guys.”

Max’s eyes visibly brightened at the mention of Laura’s name. “You talked to Laura? Is she… is she okay?”

“Far as we know,” Ryan answers. “She and Kaitlyn went off together to… to go find Chris.”

“Yeah, and given you’re… you again…” Dylan gestured towards Max. “I, uh… I’m guessing they were successful.”

“How long ago did you talk to her?” Max asks. 

“Oh uh… like, hours ago now. Four or five maybe?” Dylan answers. 

“And that’s the last time you saw her?” Max asks. 

Dylan nods. “How long have you been… back to your normal self?”

“I don't know, like... two hours maybe?” Max says, brow pinched with worry. “They should have been back by now... right?”

“Not necessarily. The Hackett House is pretty far into the woods, so it’s a decent walk to and from here,” Ryan says. 

“Yeah, I mean… From what we saw of Laura, she seemed super capable,” Abi pitches in. “And Kaitlyn, too. Them two together… I’m sure they’re fine.”

“I never met this ‘Laura’, so I have no idea what you guys are talking about,” Emma adds. 

“You should probably know though that Laura… kinda got bit. By… you,” Ryan tells Max. 

“What? I…How?”

“She thought she had killed Chris, but… she killed Kaylee instead. His… His daughter. But because she thought it was Chris, she went back to find you thinking you were gonna be human again, but… you weren’t.” Ryan explained. 

“Oh no… Oh… Christ…” Max spat, pacing back and forth with his hands on his head. “I… I bit her? I infected Laura?”

“Whoa, hey, Max — it’s okay,” Dylan assured him. “Think about it — she’s not infected anymore. If you’re you again, it means… uh…”

“It means that Chris is dead,” Ryan finishes the sentence Dylan wasn’t sure he should. 

“Right… But the chain of infection starts with Chris, right? Chris passed it on to you, then you to Laura. But if Mr. H is dead, then the chain is broken, so…”

“So we’re both cured…” Max breathed in realization, pacing coming to a stop. He slowly pulled his hands away from his head, breathing a sigh of relief. “Right… Yeah… That… That was stupid of me, I should have figured that out…”

“Nah… You’d be surprised how often stress will just like… stop your brain working,” Dylan says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I can attest to that personally.” Ryan took a hand off the shotgun to raise it in the air. “I’m fairly certain the stress of tonight has permanently fried my brain or something.”

“What?” Dylan protested. “Ryan, your decision-making tonight has been perfectly fine--”

“Dude, you asked me to chop off your hand and I did it. Like, no questions asked, I grabbed that chainsaw and fucking sawed it off.”

“Yeah, so?”

“We didn’t even know it was werewolves yet! You jumped to a massive conclusion, and I just jumped right along with you!”

“Oh my God, how have I only just noticed you’re missing a hand?!” Max exclaimed, gawking at Dylan’s hand -- or lack thereof. “Did I… Did I do that?”

“What, you haven’t gathered from our conversation that Ryan’s the one that chopped my hand off?” Dylan snarked, getting a light shove from Ryan that had him grinning. “No, it couldn’t have been you. You were stuck on the island, right? So it wouldn’t have been possible. I lost this bad boy back at the radio hut.”

Max stared wide-eyed at Dylan. “You’re… remarkably upbeat for someone that’s lost a hand.”

Dylan shot Max a lazy smile, stepping towards him. “Hi, I’m Dylan — I use humor to mask the pain.” Dylan reached out a hand for Max to shake, looking down to see he was offering… the arm without a hand. “Oops, sorry, that’s gonna take some time to get used to.”

Dylan switched hands, offering out his last remaining one. Max shook his hand, chuckling quietly at the strangeness of it all. “Well… You already know my name.”

“Indeed we do, ‘Max-Comma-Laura’s-Boyfriend’,” Dylan stopped shaking Max’s hand, reaching it out to his side to place it on Ryan’s shoulder. “This is Ryan, by the way. And that’s Emma--” Dylan pointed behind him to her, before shifting his pointed finger over to Abi. “--And that’s Abi.”

“Hi,” both girls said, waves of greeting in sync. 

“Would have been nice to have met you guys the normal way, but uh… still nice to meet you either way.” Max glanced down at himself once again, suppressing a shiver from the feeling of his cold damp clothes stuck to his skin. “Hey, is there any chance we can get a fire going in the…” he trailed off, taking in the sight of the destroyed chimney. “…Oh, guess not.”

“Here--” Emma unwraps the hoodie that she had tied around her waist, passing it over to Max. “Hopefully that’ll warm you up a little.”

“Thanks--” Max gives the hoodie a double take, and then looks closer at Emma’s attire. “Wait a second… You were the one that stole my clothes?”

“The ones I found stuffed into an old bag up in the tree house? They were yours?” Emma asks in return.

“Yeah, Laura and I put a change of clothes into the duffel so I’d have something to wear when I turned back, since… exploding into a friggen werewolf tends to rid you of your clothes, and--” Max gestures at himself with a dramatic wave of his arm. “--This wasn’t exactly my first choice of clothing.”

“At least you can pull it off,” Dylan offers, giving Ryan a teasing jab with his elbow. “Right, Ryan?”

“Yeah, I’m not even gonna answer that.”

“I heard a ‘yeah’ in there.”

“What? No- that’s not what I--” Ryan sighed, throwing up a hand into the air. “Fine, sure. He can pull it off.”

“...Thank you?” Max said, hoodie partway on, caught between one of the weirdest ‘arguments’ he’s probably ever witnessed. 

“It really sucks that my phone got drenched,” Emma laments, arms folded as she pouts. “I could have shown you this great pic of you I snagged while you were trying to rip my face off.”

“Oh Jesus -- I attacked you too?” Max asks.

“Yeah, but it was… kinda my fault,” Emma admits. “Granted, I had no idea you were up there as a werewolf, but… yeah, I opened up the hatch thingey in the tree house and ‘Surprise! Werewolf in the attic, jumping down on top of me'.”

“Did I hurt you?” Max asks, and they could hear the guilt in his voice, as if he was automatically assuming that was the case. 

“Pfft, no,” Emma answers with a snort. “The tazer and bear spray you guys packed into the bag turned out to be quite the werewolf deterrents. Was how I managed to take a photo of you all up close and gross. Uh, no offense.”

Max huffed softly in laughter. “You know, usually I would, but I’ve seen myself on video while one of those things and… yeah, I look disgusting and super gross.”

“To be fair, I think that’s the case for all werewolves,” Abi says. “I mean, the thing Nick turned into was… horrifying.”

“Yeah, and the one that tried to take my hand off won’t be winning any beauty contests any time soon,” Dylan adds. “You know, we still probably could get those photos off your phone, Emma.”

“How? It’s dead,” Emma says, pulling her water-sodden phone out of her pocket and waving it in Dylan’s direction. 

“You never heard of the rice trick?” Dylan asks. “Not just rice either. Anything absorbent. Actually, silica gel is the best, but rice usually works, too. Stick your phone in there, let it dry out, then boom – phone turns back on. Sometimes.”

“Okay… Do you have any rice?” Emma asks.

“...No,” Dylan replies after a few moments of awkward silence. “But even if your phone doesn’t turn back on, there’s usually some tools you can use to extract data and shit from it. And given the cops are gonna want as much evidence as possible, I’m sure they’ll put their best resources into recovering those photos.”

“Oh, God… The cops…” Ryan groaned. “What the hell are we even gonna say? How do we explain any of this?”

“I’m getting thrown straight back into a jail cell aren’t I…” said Max. 

“But we have proof, right?” Abi asks. “We’ve all found some weird stuff that backs everything up, and been taking photos.”

“Yeah, I got a few.” Dylan waves his phone in the air. 

“So… what? We’re just gonna tell them the truth?” Ryan asks. 

“Got any better ideas?” Emma asks in return. 

“I just… don’t think that the cops are going to believe that it was werewolves. Even if we do have evidence, it’s… it’s too insane.”

“The truth is all we’ve got, Ryan,” said Dylan. “We tell them our story, give them our evidence and… see what happens.”

“Wait… Are the police on their way now?” Max asks. 

“We… don’t know,” Dylan admits. “We tried calling them when Nick first got attacked, but uh… phone lines got cut.”

“Also tried getting a radio message out,” Ryan adds on. “Also didn’t work. Well, it did, but it kind of got intercepted by who I’m now assuming were Chris’s family and, uh… You said it had a pretty short range anyway, right Dylan?”

“Yeah, about a mile.” Dylan nods. “The signal booster might have got the message through to someone else, but, y’know… Didn’t exactly get much time to see if anyone was radioing us back.”

“So… Now what?” Emma asks. “Phone lines are cut, radios unlikely to reach anyone, mini-vans busted--”

“Oh, I was wondering why you guys were still here,” Max interjected. “Camp ended yesterday, right?”

“Yeah, we were supposed to be out of here by now, but… There was a part missing from the mini-van, right, Ryan?”

“Uh, missing?” Max directs to Ryan. “How exactly did that happen? Car parts don’t usually just up and walk out on you.”

“We still haven’t figured that one out,” Ryan says with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“Yeah, and you guys still haven’t answered my question,” Emma cuts in. “What are we gonna do? As much as explaining this to the cops is going to suck, we do still need them here.”

“Sure, but how?” Dylan asks. “Phone lines were like… cut cut, right? And unless any of you guys know how to repair something like that, the phone’s still a no-go.”

“I suppose we could just, like, walk. At least, far enough until we get signal and can make a call?” Emma suggests. 

“You remember the drive up here, right?” Dylan asks. “We all lost signal way far away from camp. I doubt we could walk that far, and if we did, our phones would die long before we get anywhere with signal.”

“You can’t, like… charge them up?” Max asks. 

“...Yeah, we’re not all standing here in the dark for aesthetic reasons, man,” Ryan says dryly, the comment earning him a muffled snort from Dylan. “They cut the power same time they cut the phone lines.”

Max huffs. “Well that’s… great. Seriously, what is wrong with these people? Would they seriously rather let innocent people die than go get proper help for this… curse? Affliction? I don’t know what to call it.”

“That’s… kinda what it seems like, yeah. Especially if Jacob did actually see a body in the lake,” Dylan points out. 

“Oh. And it keeps getting better.” Max turns away with a sigh, shaking his head as he places his hands on his hips. He stays there for a moment, thinking, before turning back to them all. “Okay, I think I should head back to the island.”

They all stare at Max in surprise for a moment, before Dylan finally speaks up. “Uh… Why would you do that?”

“Because that’s where Laura expects me to be,” Max explains. “Really, I shouldn’t have left there in the first place. But I heard the gunshot and I thought… I don’t know, maybe she was in trouble or… or someone needed help. Either way, you guys are obviously fine, so… Best thing for me to do is go back and wait. For all I know, Laura could be there right now trying to figure out where I up and vanished to.”

“We still don’t know what could be out there,” Ryan says. “Sure, you’re back to normal which hopefully means any other werewolves are back to normal too. But we don’t know that for sure. And even if that is the case…” Ryan hesitated for a moment, the reality of what he was about to say next still not sitting right with him, even if he knows it’s likely to be the truth. “We still don’t know how many more of Chris’s family there are around. And from what we’ve seen so far tonight, they’re… they’re not being all that ‘friendly’.”

“Trust me, I know that. I’ve spent two friggen months under the captivity of Travis Hackett, okay? But even so, I need to at least try and find Laura.”

“Look, for safety’s sake it’s best we all just wait for dawn to break. It’s not that far out anyway,” Ryan suggests. “And it’s not like you’re the only one of us that has someone out there they’re worried about, okay? We’ve still gotta find Kaitlyn, and Nick, and Jacob--”

“Never thought I’d make it into your list, Erzhaler.”

They all whirl around at the unexpected voice, Ryan bringing up the shotgun and pointing it in the direction they had heard the voice coming from. The flashlight attached to the shotgun lands on Jacob, who winces at its bright glare, bringing up a hand to shield his eyes. “Jesus, dude, that’s the second time tonight you’ve pointed that thing at me. Starting to get the feeling you don’t like me or something.”

“Jacob? The hell did you--” Ryan starts, then stops once he realizes there was another person standing just behind him. “Holy Shit, Nick?”

“Oh my God…” Abi utters softly at the sight of him. He was coated in blood, and his clothes could barely be called clothes anymore, reduced to flimsy shreds of fabric that barely provided him with modesty. 

“Yeah, I uh… I found him in the woods on my way over here,” Jacob explains, limping somewhat as he makes his way over to the group. Nick sluggishly follows, nervous eyes darting around the lodge with every step. “He’s, uh… He’s a little shaken up,” Jacob adds quietly. 

“Where… exactly did you even come from, man?” Ryan asks. “How’d you get in here?”

“Oh, there’s a window open,” Jacob answers, looking over his shoulder to where he and Nick had come from. “I came through it yesterday when Dylan thought it’d be funny to lock the door on me--”

“Uh, I didn’t think it was funny,” Dylan corrects him. “I knew it was funny. And it was.”

“What the hell happened to you?” Emma asks Jacob, an odd mixture of both concern and annoyance shining in her eyes. “After you pushed me off the edge of the walkway--”

“I didn’t… push you off,” Jacob was quick to insist. 

“Whatever, after that thing attacked us and I ended up in the water, you sorta just… I don’t know, disappeared I guess.”

“Yeah, it’s uh… it’s a long story,” Jacob says. 

“Like the kind of long story from when you showed up with your face covered in blood?” Dylan asks, then pauses, smiling at Jacob as he points to his own face. “Hey! Twinsies!”

“Why are you…?” Jacob begins, but decides it better to not ask. “Uh, anyway, yeah — exactly like that. I ended up stepping into a stupid fucking bear trap one of those hunter guys set up—” Jacob points down at his leg, puncture marks still visible even in the dark of the lodge. “Fucked up my leg pretty bad.”

“I think I can one-up you,” Dylan says, lifting up his stub into the air and giving it a wave. 

Jacob’s eyes widen at the sight of it, his mouth falling open. “Holy Shit, dude, what -- what the hell happened?”

“Ryan cut it off. With a chainsaw,” Dylan answers, missing out a few key details in his story. 

“Uh, what?”

“Jesus, Dylan. Can you not make it sound like I did it for fun or something?” Ryan asks, giving Dylan a light nudge. 

“Sorry, but it is funny seeing people’s reaction when they hear that,” Dylan says, his satisfied smile getting Ryan to roll his eyes. He turns back towards Jacob. “But yeah, full disclaimer, Ryan did it to save my life. Or… stop me from becoming a werewolf after one of them bit me. Wait… How much of all this do you know about?”

“Bits and pieces, I think,” Jacob answers. “After I stepped in that trap those hunter dudes knocked me out and threw me in some fucking cages under their house. And, uh… Nick was there too, in the other cage. At least… I think it was him.” 

Nick winces at the reminder, arms wrapped around himself and head bowed, staring at the ground. None of them really know what to say or do that might be of some comfort to Nick. Especially Abi, judging by the way she kept glancing over in his direction as they spoke. But Dylan could only imagine the reminder of what he’d done — and the things he had said — still sat fresh in her mind. Even if they knew it wasn’t exactly Nick. 

“So, uh… How’d you escape?” Ryan asks. 

“Kaitlyn found me. Her and… shit, I can’t remember her name… She had like this eyepatch and… was kinda trigger happy?”

“Laura?” Max asks, speaking for the first time since Jacob and Nick had appeared. “You spoke to Laura too?”

“Laura! That was her na--” Jacob had to give Max a double take, for one: not knowing who the hell he was, and two… He barely held back a snort, eyebrow raised as his eyes raked over Max’s ‘choice’ of attire. “Dude… The hell are you wearing?”

Max just raised an eyebrow back at Jacob, returning his questioning gaze as he looked him up and down. “Uh… Not sure you can talk given I’m literally looking at your nipples right now.”

“He’s got you there,” Dylan tells Jacob with a teasing grin. “Have you seriously been running around the whole night with your tits out?”

“I mean… It’s not exactly like I’ve had the opportunity to get dressed,” Jacob says. “After Kaitlyn told me about all the crazy shit that’s happened and that they have to… kill Mr. H or something, she got me out of the cage and I came straight here. I wasn’t exactly gonna hang around in my kidnapper's house and find some clothes, am I?”

“Well… Guess we know they made it to the house at least,” said Emma. 

“...Who is that?” Nick speaking took everyone by surprise, given he had been silent since arriving. They follow his line of sight to the body laid out on the table. 

“It’s… It’s Caleb. Caleb Hackett,” Dylan answers solemnly. “Turns out he was a werewolf too. He, um... He got into the lodge and was trying to kill us.”

“Did…” Nick hesitates, eyes swiveling over from Caleb’s body to them, glossy with unshed tears. “Did I… Did I try and hurt any of you?”

“No, no you didn’t,” Ryan quickly tried to assure Nick. “I… think.”

“Yeah, I mean… I’ve only got this, and you were still… you, when it happened,” Dylan says, gesturing to his amputated hand. 

“...How much do you remember?” Abi timidly asks Nick. 

“Nothing. At least, nothing when I was… one of those things. But I…” Nick’s voice shakes, a few of those unshed tears spilling free. “I’m so sorry… I… I do remember what happened before I changed… The things I said… What I did…” Nick looks over to Abi, expression filled with shame. “Abi… I’m so fucking sorry… How could I have… Fuck.”

“It wasn’t you,” Abi says quietly. “I know it wasn’t you, Nick.”

“It really wasn’t,” Max adds on, much to their surprise. “Trust me, I know. I was fortunate enough to be drugged and unconscious when I first turned, so I can’t even imagine how intense it is. But I was awake for the next one, and… You just start to lose yourself. You can feel this other thing taking over, and there’s nothing you can do. You feel yourself being pushed back, locked away as this violent being claws its way to the surface. Then, right before, it’s… it’s pain, and burning, and… and it’s every bad thought you’ve ever had about yourself, about others, about the whole damn world all rolled into one, then… lights out.”

Nick nods, eyes cast to the ground. “I’m still sorry, though. I was such a dick…”

“I’m sorry, too,” Abi also apologizes, which confused Nick enough that he looks away from the ground and up at her. 

“Sorry for… what?”

“I shot you,” Abi says, in disbelief that she has to remind Nick of that. “I… Oh my God, I… shot you.”

“Because you had to,” Nick insists. “Abi, I… I threw you across the room. I could have killed you. Listen, I’m glad you shot me, because if you hadn’t…” Nick shakes his head. “I don’t even wanna think about what could have happened…”

“Hey, so, uh… So long as we’re on the whole… apologizing thing,” Jacob cuts into the awkward tension they found themselves in — in a way that somehow made it worse. “I, uh… I kinda have something to tell you guys. And… apologize for.”

Ryan narrows his eyes at Jacob, head tilted back as he gives him a suspicious glare. “What exactly could you have to apologize for?”

Jacob exhales shakily, staring down at the floor hands jittering by his side as he works up the courage. “Um… Okay, so… So you know how we couldn’t get the mini-van to work yesterday?”

They all nod, waiting for Jacob to continue. “That was… That was kinda… me…”

“Wait… The missing rotor arm…?” Ryan starts to put the pieces together, suspicion very quickly turning to anger. “Dude, you -- you stole the fucking rotor arm?”

“Whoa, what?” Dylan exclaimed. “That was you?” 

“Seriously? Jesus, Jacob… What the fuck?” Emma’s words were the ones to make Jacob flinch, head still lowered in his shame. “Oh my God, wait a second… When… When you said that ‘this wasn’t how you wanted the night to go…’ That’s what you were talking about?”

“I didn’t exactly know all this was going to happen, alright?” Jacob tried to defend himself, hands thrown out to his side to gesture towards the messy interior of the lodge — and towards the night overall. “Like… seriously! How could I have possibly known that this was how the night would go down? I just… I wanted one more night, okay? One more night of summer fun, and I… I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t ready for it to be over.”

“And… what? You thought it’d be a good idea to sabotage our only way out of here and force us to stay another night against our will?” Emma questions Jacob's 'plan’, each word spoken breaking down Jacob’s defense.

“Wait… So where’s the part you took?” Dylan asks.

“I lost it…” Jacob mumbles. “When Emma and I went swimming, it fell into the lake. I tried to get it back but… I couldn’t.”

“Well… That explains a lot…” Ryan says. Dylan looks over to him in surprise at the amount of hostility packed into his voice, a little part of him feeling nervous at how tightly Ryan was gripping the shotgun. “I should have known… When you were being a dick to me trying to get the van ‘working’. More so than usual, anyway.”

“What do you want me to say, man?” Jacob retorts. “That I'm sorry? Because yeah, I am. I can guarantee you that no one in this room hates me more than I hate myself right now. I wish I hadn’t done it, but I did, and I can’t change that.”

“All of this… it could have been avoided.” Ryan shakes his head in disgust. “We wouldn’t have been here if it weren’t for you.”

“Hey, back off!” Jacob raises his voice as he — stupidly — steps closer to Ryan. “I know what I did was shitty, but it’s not like I would have done it if I’d known there were fucking werewolves and people with guns running about!”

“Whoa, guys--” Dylan tries to break up the brewing fight he could see coming from a mile away. He jolts in surprise when Ryan all but throws the shotgun at him, pinning it to his chest with his arm. Probably a good idea all things considered given how heated Jacob and Ryan were getting… 

“That still doesn’t take away how much of an asshole you are. All because you couldn’t accept that Emma doesn’t want you anymore, you nearly got us all killed--”

“Fuck you, man!” Jacob takes another step closer. 

“No, fuck you!” Ryan spits, jabbing a finger in Jacob’s direction. “Fucking look at Dylan’s hand! You see that?! It’s gone. One of those fucking things bit him, and that’s on you. This is your fault--”

“Oh, is it now?” Jacob says. The sneer in his voice makes Dylan’s stomach turn, getting a nasty feeling that whatever he was going to say next might just push Ryan over the edge. “Could have sworn Dylan said you cut his hand off, so I think we know whose fault that is.”

Yep, that did it. Ryan’s eyes may have already been alight with rage, but now they were downright burning. “What did you just say--?!” Ryan steps forward, shoving hard at Jacob’s chest. Despite being smaller than him, the push is enough to send Jacob stumbling back a few steps, who looks about as shocked at Ryan’s — rarely shown — display of strength. Unfortunately, it also pisses Jacob off even more. His fists curl by his sides, and Dylan’s fairly certain there’s about to be another punch thrown. 

“Alright, that’s enough!” Dylan drops the gun down on a nearby table, both the loud clang of that and his yell —also rarely shown (or heard, he supposed) — stopping both Ryan and Jacob in their tracks. “This whole 'blame game' thing is fucking pointless. Yes, what Jacob did was stupid and yes, we’re all gonna be a little pissed about that. But you know what? You could put the blame on me, too.”

“What?” Ryan splutters. “Dylan, there’s nothing you--”

“I was the one that suggested the party, remember?” Dylan says firmly. “Mr. H wanted us to stay inside. You wanted us to stay inside. But because of me, we were all out in the woods. Out in danger. So would you put the blame on me too?”

“No, no, that’s--” 

“Hell, you could put the blame on everyone. You could say that if Emma hadn’t kissed Nick during that dare--” Dylan pauses to direct his next words to Emma. “--Also, not putting the blame on you in the slightest, just making a point--” Emma shrugs her shoulders in understanding, waiting for Dylan to continue. “--Then Abi and Nick wouldn’t have ended up in the woods, and Nick wouldn’t have gotten bit. Or you could just skip straight to Abi and say that if she hadn’t run off into the woods on her own that Nick wouldn’t have gotten bit. You could put the blame on Max and Laura for showing up here a night early--”

“Or not going to the Harbringer motel…” Max mutters under his breath.

“...What?” Dylan asks.

“Nothing, never mind. Continue with your argument.”

“Right. Well, anyway, point is, there’s no point in pointing fingers in blame and asking questions of ‘what if?’ It sucks, but what happened, happened. We can’t change it. And I’m not saying you can’t be upset about it, but you know what? We’re alive. And I’m sure Kaitlyn and Laura will be back in no time. So we can please just be grateful for that much, and not keep up this terrible night by punching each other?!” 

Ryan blinked in surprise at Dylan’s outburst, not at all used to hearing him raise his voice. It seemed to have worked though, both Jacob’s and Ryan’s anger having slipped away after Dylan argued his piece. Everyone in the room was frozen still, apart from the occasional glance at each other, not knowing what to say or do next after all that. And, again, apart from Ryan, who was just staring at Dylan in his shock. 

“I think you might have broken Ryan again,” Emma told Dylan, breaking the silence. “Either that or you turned him on. Not sure which yet.”

  * * *

  05:50 | AUGUST 23 - RYAN

HACKETT’S QUARRY LODGE

 Ryan leaned against the banister that overlooked the entrance to the lodge, his forearms resting across the top as he stared out into the forest. He could just about see the few slivers of light through the trees, steadily brightening yellows and oranges replacing the stifling darkness of the previous night. He hadn’t been out here for long, maybe only five minutes or so. Seems he had come at the perfect time to see the approaching dawn of a new day.

“Now that’s a nice sight, huh?” Dylan’s voice comes from next to him, the other boy appearing out of the corner of his eye. He joins him in leaning against the banister, both of them now enjoying the upcoming sunrise. 

Ryan hums in agreement to Dylan’s statement. “Never been much of a morning person, but yeah. Don’t think I’ve appreciated the sunrise as much as I do right now.”

“You did always seem extra grumpy in the mornings,” Dylan teases him, lightly bumping his shoulder against his. 

Ryan’s mouth ticks up as he huffs. “Could have been a lot grumpier. Your morning announcements made it easier to start the day.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t hate my voice by the end of camp,” Dylan says, turning to the side to face Ryan as he speaks. “You must have been getting tired of the announcements a little bit.”

Ryan just smiles as he shakes his head, looking away from the surrounding forest and over at Dylan. “Nope. Not one bit. I like your voice.”

“Oh, good. Maybe I’ll start a podcast or something. Give you an excuse to listen to my sultry tones.”

“Or we could just… talk over the phone. Or on discord or something. Or… in person,” Ryan suggests. 

“Well, that’s a given,” Dylan says with a playful smile. “Now that you’ve caved and given me your number, I will be taking full advantage of the opportunity you’ve gifted me.”

“Go ahead and ‘take full advantage’,” Ryan challenges him. “That is why I gave you my number.”

“...For me to annoy you?”

“If that’s how you wanna see it, sure,” Ryan says with a shrug of his shoulders. “But I see it more as… your own strange yet endearing way of both showing your affection and asking for attention.”

“Hmm, we’ll see if you change your tune a few months down the line. Twenty bucks you get sick of me.”

Ryan snorts, looking at Dylan in disbelief. “Dude, never. That’s never gonna happen. If we can get through two months of summer camp in charge of a bunch of hyper kids and survive a night like the one we did and still come out of it liking each other, let alone like each other more than we did at the start, then I’d say the odds of me getting sick of you are slim to none.”

Dylan’s smile just got goofier and goofier the more Ryan spoke, to which Ryan shot Dylan a perplexed frown as he asked him, “What?”

“So you like me, huh?”

Ryan took in a deep breath, and then sighed. Seemed Dylan was already trying to test him with the whole ‘can’t get sick of you’ claim. Or maybe Dylan just wanted some extra, verbal confirmation. “Yes, Dylan. I like you, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Okay, but do you ‘like like’ me?”

Never mind, Dylan was definitely just trying to mess with him here. “Jesus dude… It’s like we’re back in middle school.”

Dylan broke, chuckling softly at the amused exasperation in Ryan’s voice. His laughter tapered off as his eyes slid away from Ryan and to the sight of Max on the other side of the balcony, who was pacing up and down the small stretch that wrapped around the side of the lodge. He had been out here ever since the conversation in the lodge had come to an end, either doing exactly what he’s doing now, or what Ryan was doing — staring out into the forest, waiting for any sign of movement. 

Waiting for Laura. 

“Wow. He really loves her, huh?” Dylan says quietly, gesturing with a nod in his head in Max’s direction when Ryan gives him an understandably confused look at the statement. 

Ryan twists his head around, following Dylan’s line of sight to Max. “Yeah, I’d say so… Can’t exactly say I’d be doing much better in his shoes if it were you out there.”

Dylan ducked his head, hiding his rapidly reddening face, grateful that Ryan was still looking in Max’s direction. Probably for the best that he doesn’t think too much about what Ryan was implying there. Dylan cleared his throat, trying to clear said implications from his head. “Is there, uh… Anything we should do?”

“I don’t think he really wants to hear comforting words right now. But… Give it ten minutes or so and we’ll start getting ready to go and search for them.” Ryan glanced over at Dylan, just in time to see the wince Dylan was trying his best to hide, amputated arm held in his only good hand. “If, uh… If you’re up for it, that is.”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine, I just--” Dylan winced again, not doing much to back up his claim. “I think those painkillers Kaitlyn gave me are starting to wear off…”

“That… doesn’t sound like you’re fine,” Ryan says, brow creased in worry. 

“No, seriously, it’s fine,” Dylan tries to insist. “Every now and then it just kinda… twinges a little I guess. Trust me, it could be worse.”

“Wait here a second,” Ryan tells Dylan, rushing back into the lodge before Dylan could even ask him where he’s going. He heads straight for Chris’s office, snatching up the little bottle of heavy-duty painkillers they had left on the desk before rushing back outside and to Dylan. 

“Here.” Ryan holds out the bottle for Dylan to take. 

“Oh, cool. Where’d you get these from?” Dylan asks as he plucks the bottle from Ryan, popping open the top and peeking inside. 

“They were the ones you grabbed from Chris’s bathroom, remember?” 

“Sweet. I mean, even if you had found them lying around the place somewhere, I’m not really in a position to turn down mystery painkillers.”

“Yeah, well… It’s not like Chris will need them anymore.”

Dylan paused, bottle held mid-air as his eyes darted to and from Ryan. “Uh… Was that a joke, or…?”

“More a matter of fact…” Ryan grumbled. 

“Suppose you’re right…” Dylan upturned the bottle of pills, shaking a few of them into his mouth and swallowing them straight down. He lowered his arm back down, only to be greeted by Ryan’s part amazed part concerned stare. 

“Uh… I don’t know whether I should be impressed that you just dry-swallowed them.”

Dylan wiggles his eyebrows in response, fumbling with the bottle somewhat as he places the cap back on. “No gag reflex, baby. I’ll leave you to think on that one.”

“Isn’t it actually kind of dangerous to dry swallow pills?” Ryan asks.

“...Probably. I think there’s a chance it can get stuck in your throat or something.”

“Dude, you should have asked me to get you a glass of water or something.”

“Well I’m not choking, am I?” Dylan pointed out. “I’m sure it’s fine to do it once.”

“If you say so. I’d just rather not have to explain to the paramedics and the police that you died not because of some rabid animals that were hunting us all night, but because you choked to death on some painkillers.”

“I mean… There are worse ways to die.”

“True,” Ryan conceded, leaning forward against the banister again. “Um… I just wanted to say sorry. For earlier. I… I shouldn’t have got that angry.”

Dylan sighs, cautiously resting his injured arm on top of the banister. “Not really me you have to be apologizing to. I wasn’t the one you were about to take a swing at.”

“I know, I know. And I will. I’m just…” Ryan absentmindedly played with his fingers as he spoke. “I don’t think I’m ready to do that yet. I’m still kind of…”

”Pissed off?” Dylan guessed. 

“Aren’t you?” Ryan asked, looking up from his hands and to Dylan. “I don’t know how you were so calm about it. I… I get that I shouldn’t have gotten angry on your behalf, but… Jesus, Dylan. You lost your hand because of tonight. It doesn’t upset you a little that we were trapped here because of Jacob?”

Dylan stares down at his feet, taking in a deep breath. “A little? Sure. Maybe I’m too tired to think on it all that much, but… Like I said before, I’m just glad we’re all alive. Well, hopefully all of us…” Dylan adds on, glancing anxiously towards the entrance of the camp. 

“If any of us were gonna make it out of here alive, it’d be Kaitlyn,” Ryan claimed, trying to keep the optimism high. “You put a gun in her hands, and nothing will stop her.”

“Good point. I actually saw you guys during one of the shooting lessons. You seemed like you were doing well until Kaitlyn came along and whooped your ass.”

“It’s a little scary to be honest.”

Dylan chuckles, completely in agreement. “Oh, for sure. And then Kaitlyn and Laura together? Terrifying duo right there… Werewolves are probably more scared of them than they are of them…”

Ryan chuckled softly, his mouth pulled into one of those rare smiles that crinkles at the corner of his eyes. “Anyone ever told you you have a really nice smile?” Dylan asks. 

“Only you,” Ryan says, a half smile still pulling at his lips. 

“They’re very contagious. First time I saw you smile this summer, I made it my personal challenge to make you smile as much as I could. Didn’t realize how much of a challenge it was, but man was it worth it.”

Ryan tries his best to hide his bashful smile from Dylan’s words, face ducked down as he feels a rush of heat to his face. “Come on… It’s just a smile.”

“Oh, you have no idea how much power that smile of yours holds,” Dylan says, turning to face forward and nudging his shoulder into Ryan’s. “And your laugh? Forget seeing you smile for the first time. First time I heard your laughter, the butterflies in my stomach were going crazy. Knew right then and there that I was a goner…”

Ryan reached out for Dylan’s hand on top of the banister, who flips over his hand for Ryan to take. They lace their fingers together, Ryan giving his hand a light squeeze as he glances up at Dylan. “And yet you waited until the end of summer to make your move.”

“Yeah, well… Didn’t want to make Emma and Jacob jealous when we become the new cutest couple.”

Ryan huffs, finding himself nodding his head in agreement. “Do you… Do you ever regret not making a move earlier in the summer?” 

“Yes and no, I guess. I can’t tell you how many nights I spent trying to convince myself to just man up and tell you how I felt. But… every morning I’d wake up and chicken out of it. Didn’t want to make the rest of the summer awkward if you said no…”

“Don’t know if this makes you feel better or worse, but…” Ryan squeezes his hand again. “I was hesitant to let myself feel the way I do until I knew you felt the same, so uh… I wouldn’t have said no.”

“I… don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse either,” Dylan says, getting another laugh out of Ryan. 

“Kind of a shame, huh? Sucks to think how much fun we could have had this summer…”

Dylan bites back a grin, nudging Ryan with his elbow to get him to look at him. “Fun, huh? What kind of fun are we talking about here?”

“Well… I’ll leave you to think on that one,” Ryan parrots Dylan’s earlier words. 

“I’d prefer to act on it,” Dylan says before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Ryan’s mouth. Ryan tightens his grip on Dylan’s hand at the first touch of his mouth to his, tilting his head to get a better angle as he leans into the kiss. 

“I think I prefer that too,” Ryan says as they pull apart, getting a pleased smile from Dylan in response, which Ryan gestures to with a flick of his chin. “And just so you know…. you’re not the only one trying to get as many smiles as possible.”

“Oh, really? This becoming a competition, huh? See who can make the other smile the most?”

“Given you smile whenever we kiss, I don’t think it’s going to be much of a competition.”

“Well, I had to break it to you, Ryan, but…” Dylan dipped down to give Ryan a chaste kiss, pulling back to tap a finger to the corner of Ryan’s mouth, where a half-smile had formed. “I’m not the only one.”

“Hey, guys--” Ryan and Dylan startle at Max’s voice, so caught up in each other that they hadn’t noticed him making his way over to them. “Sorry to interrupt, but uh… You guys hear that too, right?”

Dylan and Ryan tilted their heads, listening out for whatever it was that Max was hearing. Sure enough, now that they were listening out for it… There was something. Something approaching the entrance to the camp. Something that sounded a lot like…

“Is that…?” Dylan begins to ask. “Is that a car?”

  * * *

  06:00 | AUGUST 23 - KAITLYN

HACKETT’S QUARRY LODGE

None of them had said a word. Both in the walk back to the car, and right now sat in it, driving back to camp. Or at least, that’s where she assumed Travis was driving them back to. Suppose it made sense that no one felt like talking, given the fact that they had just murdered a child. A feral one that turned into a ravenous beast every full moon, sure, but still… he was a child. Just a little boy that had gone from living in a cage to having to survive by himself out in the wild. No home. No family. Just himself and the entire stretch of the east coast to scramble around for survival. 

It wasn’t like they had any other choice… right? Like Travis had said, if they didn’t stop Silas, then… then it would just start back up all over again. Someone new to be mauled, or even to be bit and turned, spreading the curse to them, who would then spread the curse to someone else, and so on and so forth until… Until it all got way out of hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Travis said out of nowhere, taking both girls by surprise. “I want you to know that. I know my apologies probably don’t mean jack-shit to either one of you, but I still want you to have them.”

“Um… Okay?” Laura didn’t really know how else to respond to that. 

“It was never meant to get this far. You know, you spend your whole life convinced that there’s nothing more important than your family. Nothing. That you’d do anything for ‘em, you know? But you don’t… you don’t realize how that kind of devotion and loyalty, the very things they praise you for, end up blinding you from reality. Makes you think that… that the messed up shit you’re doing is reasonable. That it’s okay because… because it means you’re keeping your family safe. 

“Every damn day I’d come into work and stare at those missing person's posters, and I’d know exactly where those people were. I’d look at them, and I’d see the chains and cinder blocks I tied to their feet as I shoved them into the lake. And I’m a… I’m a police officer--” Travis slammed his open palm down on the edge of the steering wheel. “I’m a goddamn sheriff. I took an oath to protect the law. To protect the people. And I’m fucking stood there with you and your boy locked away in those cells and just hoping that passion of yours for veterinary sciences might just be of use because otherwise my family’s gonna find out about you and… and they’re gonna ask me to ‘dispose’ of you too.”

“Well… Guess it’s lucky I ended up being useful then…” said Laura. 

Travis shook his head, but not in disagreement with Laura’s statement. “You and Max… All you kids… You were innocent in all this. Dragged into my family’s shit, and were made to suffer for it. I guess… I’m not surprised it ended this way. My family’s situation had been a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. I just never figured the ignition would be a bunch of counselors both showing up too early and staying longer than they should have…”

“Technically, not our fault,” Kaitlyn said. “Mini-van was broken. Wasn’t our choice to stay.”

“And…yeah, okay, I guess it was my fault me and Max showed up a day early. But I wasn’t exactly expecting the owners of a summer camp for little kids to be run by goddamn werewolves--”

“I know, I know,” Travis off Laura’s incoming rant with a tired-sounding sigh. “I’m not blaming you -- none of you kids. I might not have been the one to start this, or to succumb to the same curse as my brother and his children, but… I’m far from an innocent party either. I guess what I’m trying to say is this is me trying to make amends. Or… starting to anyway. I know chances are that I never can, but I’ll still try. And it starts with me getting you kids the hell out of this place and clearing your names.”

“Okay, so… What’s the plan?” Kaitlyn asks. “I assume first thing first is to get back to camp and… and see who made it…”

“If they’re smart, they’ll have headed to the lodge. Preferably the storm shelter.”

“You mean the storm shelter Max got bit in?” Laura asks, sarcasm seeping into her voice. 

“You broke in,” Travis said firmly. “Thankfully, werewolves aren’t smart enough to figure out how to do that. If they hid down there and stayed quiet? They’d be perfectly safe.”

“Uh… I know that for a few of my fellow counselors, ‘staying quiet’ isn’t their forte,” Kaitlyn says. “But… given everything that’s gone on tonight, I’m sure they’d be smart enough to keep their voices down…”

“Well, we’ll find out just how smart they are once we get back,” said Travis. “We’ll check the lodge first, then from there--”

“I’m going to the island,” Laura claimed — not at all a surprise to either Travis or Kaitlyn. “Max is probably freaked out by now… I’ve been gone way longer than I should have been.”

“Alright, you can go looking for Max,” Travis agrees. Laura looked seconds away from arguing over the ‘can’, as if Travis was giving her permission that she certainly didn’t need, but he carried on talking before she could get a word — or complaint — out. “While you’re doing that, we’ll check out other areas your friends might be taking shelter in. If there’s still people missing, then we comb out and search the surrounding woodlands. But… But you should probably prepare yourself in case--”

“I know,” Kaitlyn cut Travis off, not wanting to hear him finish the rest of that sentence. “Believe me, I’ve been preparing myself for that since Abi came screaming out of the woods after Nick had nearly been ripped apart.”

“Right…” Travis mumbled, his grip around the steering wheel tightening. 

It wasn’t too long after their conversation that Travis was turning off the main road and onto Hackett property. Kaitlyn glanced out of the side window to see the sign welcoming them to Hackett’s Quarry Summer Camp pass, the car already beginning to slow as they approach the lodge. 

“Oh my God--” Laura’s exclamation brought Kaitlyn’s attention away from the side window, shifting over to the middle seat to get a better look out of the front — and to whatever it was that had caught Laura’s attention. 

Instead of adrenaline flowing through her veins, this time it was relief. There were three people standing on the balcony of the lodge, one she didn’t recognize. But the other two… She’d probably have to be dead to forget about them. 

Travis hadn’t even brought the car to a full stop before Laura had thrown open the car door and jumped out of the car. To be fair, Kaitlyn barely waited for him to pull up the handbrake before she too hurried out of the car. 

“Max!

“Laura!” Max was already halfway down the stairs leading up the lodge, practically leaping down them in his rush. Laura hadn’t even made it a few paces away from the car before Max was there, colliding with her and wrapping her up tight. Kaitlyn couldn’t help but smile at their reunion, one hand on the open door of the car as she watched them. 

“I was so worried, I thought maybe--” Max began to say, reaching up a hand to gently caress the side of her face. “And your eye. Your eye is back, you--”

“I’m okay,” Laura reassured him, smiling warmly up at Max. It was perhaps the happiest Kaitlyn had seen Laura all night. Laura’s eyes dropped down to take in Max’s attire, warm smile turning very much amused at the legging/crop top/hoodie combo. “…What are you wearing?”

“Um, it’s called fashion, sweetie.” Max’s sarcastic delivery got a quiet chuckle from Laura as she shook her head at his antics.

“Are they my clothes?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda all I had available.”

Movement out of the corner of her eye tore Kaitlyn’s attention away from the reuniting couple and to who she could only assume was another couple now given that Dylan and Ryan were headed her way, walking very close to each other. Like seriously, it was a miracle they weren’t tripping over each other’s feet. 

“So, you two idiots managed to survi--” Was all Kaitlyn could get out before her breath was squeezed out of her by both Dylan and Ryan hugging her from each side, coming dangerously close to either choking her out or cracking her ribcage. “Yep, okay, good to see you guys too but I can’t breathe,” she managed to squeak out, which got Dylan and Ryan to let go of her in a hurry. 

“Shit, sorry.” Ryan was the first to apologize.

“Yeah, didn’t mean to like… break a rib or something,” Dylan said. 

“Nah, I’m fine,” Kaitlyn waved them off, softly closing the car door before placing a hand to her side. “Think there might be some leftover soreness from where I was stabbed…”

“From where you were…?” Dylan's eyes widened as they dropped down to Kaitlyn’s side, taking in the large amount of blood soaked into her clothes. “Holy fuck, shit, we should--”

“I’m not stabbed anymore!” Kaitlyn rushed to reassure Dylan before he could go into full-on panic mode. “Werewolf healing took care of that.”

“...Come again?” Ryan asked. 

“Also not a werewolf anymore. Or… never really was, I guess. I mean, I was bit, but I never turned.”

“...What?” Both Dylan and Ryan asked at the exact same time. 

Kaitlyn sighed. “One of Mr. H’s brothers decided to shove a knife into my ribs. Laura and I quickly realized that the only way I was going to survive it was through werewolf healing, so… she offered to bite me.” 

“Kinky,” Dylan commented, getting a roll of the eyes from Kaitlyn. 

“We uh… We also found Mr. H,” Kaitlyn said, turning her apologetic gaze to Ryan. “I’m sorry, Ryan. There wasn’t much of a choice for me to make. He was coming at me and… I had to shoot.”

Ryan just nodded, eyes cast to the ground. “I figured, you know. Since…” Ryan gestures over to where Max was, still holding onto Laura like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let her go. 

“Dude's been worried sick about her,” Dylan comments. “And… we were getting pretty fucking scared when you guys didn’t show up. What exactly took you guys so long? I’m assuming it’s something to do with the fact that you showed up in a car driven by a cop who I’ve kinda been dying to ask about the moment you arrived, especially coz’ he’s still just sort of… sitting there.”

Kaitlyn looked behind her and past the windshield to where Travis was, as Dylan said, still just sitting in the car. From here it looked like he was talking into his shoulder, but Kaitlyn knew that just under the hand he had to his shoulder was his police radio. 

“I’ll explain everything later. I imagine I’ll have to tell it a hundred times over anyway when the cops arrive anyway…” Kaitlyn says, getting nods of agreement from Dylan and Ryan. “So… I’m guessing you guys are… together now?”

Ryan and Dylan glance at one another in surprise, mouths opening and closing repeatedly as they scramble for something to say. “Um… What makes you think that?” Ryan finally manages to ask. 

Kaitlyn smirks, pointing to the side of his neck. “You got a hickey on your neck.”

Ryan’s eyes go wide, hand flying up to cover where Kaitlyn had pointed out so fast that there was a slap of skin against skin. Kaitlyn began to laugh as Dylan’s face slowly shifted through different shades of red, still unable to think of anything to say. 

“I’m just kidding, you don’t have a hickey,” Kaitlyn put them out of their misery. Ryan dropped his hand with a huff. “But thank you for confirming it for me.”

“Alright, that was a good one,” Dylan had to admit, able to smile through the embarrassment. “Even if you are evil incarnate.”

“Glad to see you two finally figured it out,” Kaitlyn says, giving the two of them a light shove. “Seriously, I’m happy for you guys. I mean that. And Ryan?”

“Uh… yeah?” Ryan nervously replied. 

“So you know, just because I thought you were hot doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to kill you if you ever hurt Dylan. And I mean that, as well.”

“Jesus, Kaitlyn…” exclaimed Dylan. “I, uh… didn’t know I had so much of an impact on you for you to… offer to murder someone on my behalf?” 

“Potentially. So long as Ryan doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t,” Ryan says with so much conviction in his voice that Kaitlyn can’t help but believe him. 

“Good,” Kaitlyn says with a friendly pat on Ryan’s shoulder. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“This has been the weirdest night of my life…” Ryan mumbled as Kaitlyn’s hand slid away from his shoulder. 

“You’re telling me,” Kaitlyn huffed. “Honestly Dylan, I’m surprised you’re still standing right now.”

“So am I,” Dylan retorted. “We found some more painkillers in Mr. H’s bathroom, so they’re doing most of the heavy lifting right now. But that’s not to say I won’t fall flat on my face any second now that the adrenaline’s worn off.”

“I’ll catch you if you do,” Ryan promised, getting a pleased little smile from Dylan in response.

”Okay, I know I said I’m happy for you guys, but ew, can you not with the sappiness?” Kaitlyn all but pleaded. “And from you, Ryan? Jesus, I really didn’t need to threaten you, did I…”

“Kaitlyn?” 

Kaitlyn looked over to her side, surprised to see it was Max saying her name. She couldn’t even get out a response before she found herself being wrapped up in one of Max’s bear hugs, a little too shocked to respond, or even know how she should respond. 

“Jesus, Max, at least ask first,” Laura reprimanded him. “Consent and all that.”

“It’s… fine?” Kaitlyn said, bringing up her arms to awkwardly pat Max on the back. 

“Sorry, just wanted to… show my gratitude I guess,” Max said as he pulled away. “From what Laura told me, we both owe our thanks to you. You broke our curse. You helped bring her back to me. I won’t ever forget that.”

“We, uh… We saved each other tonight,” Kaitlyn said, nodding her head at Laura, who sheepishly smiled back. “And… you kinda saved me by proxy too I guess, since you were the one to bite Laura.”

“That’s… One way to look at it, I guess…” Max pondered. 

“Kaitlyn!”

The screech of her name brought all their attention towards the direction of the lodge, greeted by the sight of everyone piling out onto the balcony. Abi was front and center, having been the first to see her — and yell out her name — pausing for a moment to wave jovially down at her before everyone was scurrying down the stairs.

“Uh oh, prepare your ribs, Kaitlyn,” Dylan warned her, already turning towards the others. “Make way for group hug two-point-oh.”

“‘Two-point-oh’? When was the first--” Kaitlyn doesn’t get to finish her sentence before being engulfed, the pressure all around her making her realize that maybe she should have heeded Dylan’s warning. 

Everyone held onto each other, Jacob wisely choosing to be in the part of the group hug that was as far away from Ryan as possible, not quite ready to test his boundaries just yet… Dylan peeked his head out of the hug to look over to where Max and Laura were standing, gesturing to the pile with a flick of his head. “You guys are counselors too, you know. You’re more than welcome to join.”

Laura raised an eyebrow at the display in front of her. “Uh, I don’t think--”

“Sweet, I’ll take a group hug,” Max decided for them, grabbing hold of Laura’s arm and tugging her with him into the hug, easily slotting in with the others. 

It’s as they were beginning to separate that Travis steps out of the car, the sound of the car door slamming closed behind him forcing their gaze over to him. Max nervously glanced between the sheriff and Laura, unsure whether to be pleased to see him for, well, being part of helping keep Laura alive, or whether to still be pissed. Which is why perhaps he resorts to making a joke that would break the tension somewhat, holding out a hand as if to invite Travis into the hug. “T-Money--”

“Absolutely not.” Travis shut that down very quickly, looking rather unimpressed as his gaze slides over all of them. “Is this everyone? Every counselor accounted for?”

“Somehow, yes,” Kaitlyn says. 

Travis nods, some of the tension in his posture relaxing at the news. “Okay, uh… good. That’s good. Now, I want you kids to get back into the lodge and stay there, alright? It won’t be long before backup arrives to take care of you guys.”

“Um, no offense, sir—” Emma said, hand held up as she spoke. “—But hearing ‘take care of you guys’ from a cop makes it sound like you’re going to take us out back and like… put a bullet in our heads or something.”

“What? No, that’s—” Travis sighed deeply, wiping a hand across his face. “I’m not going to lie to you kids, there’s going to be a lot of questions they’ll want answered. Now, I’ll do my best to answer them for you, but they’re still going to want to hear from you guys, okay? Not even I have the power to just… get you off the hook. But I’ll do what I can to ensure you all get home. That… That they see you’re all innocent in this.”

“...Even if it means putting your head on the chopping block?” Laura asks. 

Travis looks over to her, eyes solemn as he slowly nods his head. “Even if it means putting my head on the chopping block,” he repeats quietly. “My family’s mess is my mess too. You guys should never have been dragged into it. And you sure as hell shouldn’t have to be the ones to help me clear it up.”

Everyone remained quiet, all still huddled together as they looked at Travis. Travis sighed quietly, looking down to the floor before forcing his gaze back up. “There, uh… There shouldn’t be anything left that’ll be a danger to you guys anymore, but for safety's sake, you all should stay together in the lodge. Keep an eye out for each other whilst I go and search for my nephew out there–"

“You’re Chris’s brother, right?” Ryan speaks up. Travis raises an eyebrow at the unexpected interruption, but nods his head in response to the question. “Caleb’s uncle?” Ryan adds on. 

“Have you seen him?” Travis asks, something akin to hope daring to catch light in his eyes. But that hope is quickly doused by the sorrowful emptiness reflected back at him from Ryan’s, already knowing what was coming next before Ryan even said it. 

“I’m sorry,” Ryan says, swallowing harshly past the lump in his throat. “He forced his way in, and… and I had to…”

Travis’s shoulder slumped, posture deflating as he sank in on himself. His head dropped down, eyes sliding shut as he shook his head side to side. “Goddammit… Fuck! We were… We were so damn close… Curse is over and for fucking what, I…” Travis looked back up, eyes glossy with unshed tears as he stared blankly past the counselors and out into the forest. “Where… Where is he?”

“In the lodge,” Ryan answered softly, looking unsure as to whether the sheriff would start to direct his anger at him. Kaitlyn could tell from Dylan’s protective grip around Ryan’s shoulders that he wouldn’t be alone in the fight if he did. 

“You… You did what you had to. I get that,” Travis muttered, allowing them to relax somewhat. “I uh… I just… Need a minute to…” Travis got out in a daze, dejectedly making his way toward the lodge. They all watched him go, no one daring to speak a word before he was through the doors and out of earshot. 

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I actually feel kind of bad for him,” Laura admits, the first of them to break the silence. “His mom, dad, brothers, nieces, and nephews… All gone in one night. He’s the only Hackett left.”

“Jesus Christ…” Ryan muttered. Dylan’s protective grip turned into a comforting one, pulling Ryan further into his side. 

“Could we… Maybe focus on the positives and not… that?” Nick asked, accent as thick as usual and Kaitlyn was delighted to see completely normal ‘Nick’ eyes glancing between the group and not the bloodshot, yellow ones she had last seen of him. 

“I think I can do that, given last time I saw you, you were…” Kaitlyn trailed off, looking Nick up and down. 

Nick managed the tiniest of smiles. “Yeah… Not exactly myself. I, um… I’m sorry for… telling you to fuck off…”

“You were part way through transforming into a werewolf. You’ve got a pretty good excuse,” Kaitlyn replied in one of the weirdest ways of accepting someone's apology. “I’m just glad to see you’re okay.”

Nick shot her a tired-looking smile. “Right back at you.”

Kaitlyn moved her gaze over to Jacob. “So… You found your way back then?”

“Just about. Picked up this straggler on the way.” Jacob ruffled at Nick’s hair, who didn’t look much pleased with the display of ‘affection’. 

“Knock it off, man--” Nick grumbled, swatting Jacob’s bear paws away.

Kaitlyn rolled her eyes at the display of… whatever it is that boys do to show they care about each other, apparently. “Well, I’m glad to see you decided not to try and be a hero or an idiot,” she said, calling back to their earlier conversation by the cages. Ryan very much looked like he wanted to say something about that, but Dylan’s gentle squeeze around his shoulders kept him quiet. 

“It’s amazing we’re all still alive…” Abi said, sounding genuinely amazed by her realization. 

“Yeah… Anyone else get the feeling it could have gone a lot worse?” Emma asks.

“For sure,” Dylan agreed. “I could have lost both hands.”

Ryan looked up at Dylan, completely baffled. “How… would that even happen?”

“I dunno. I get bit, you cut off my hand, and then another werewolf bites my other hand, and you have to amputate that one too,” Dylan explains like it was obvious.

“That’d be some bad luck,” Max comments. 

“Those traps I kept stepping into could have really fucked me up,” Jacob threw in his own woes. 

“If Kaitlyn hadn’t stopped me, I could have shot whoever was in that cage,” Laura offers. 

“Yeah, that was Nick,” Jacob informs her.

Nick blinks in surprise. “Wait, what--”

“I could have fucked up using the crane and got Ryan bit,” Dylan says. 

“Crane--?” Kaitlyn tries to say, but is cut off by Emma.

“Max could have eaten me in the tree house. And not in the good way.”

It’s not much of a surprise that everyone falls silent after that one. 

“What… the hell are we doing?” Kaitlyn asks.

“Processing our trauma, if I were to guess,” Dylan answers with a shrug of his shoulders.

“There’s a part of me that still can’t quite believe it’s really over,” said Ryan. “This whole night… This whole nightmare… It’s finally over.”

The shrill of sirens pierces through the air, breaking the momentary peace of the morning. They were quiet, but steadily getting louder and louder as who they could only assume were more cops headed their way down to Hackett’s Quarry Summer Camp, and to the massacre that awaited them. 

“Well… that nightmare’s over…” Kaitlyn said. Just through the trees, she could see the flashing red, white, and blue lights, something that would have brought them comfort to see earlier tonight now bringing a sense of dread. “…And now a new one begins…”

#dylan/ryan #ryan x dylan #dylan x ryan #radioheads #drylan #The Quarry #the quarry game #the quarry spoilers #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler

[chipper9906]

[chipper9906]

The irony of me writing the line "Well I'm not choking, am I?" literal seconds before I take a sip of water and start to choke

#writing #suffering for the art

[chipper9906]

you ever get an ao3 comment that makes you feel so validated like YES you got EXACTLY what i was trying to say. we are mind melding. we should kiss on the lips

[chipper9906]

Me trying to revive the fanbase so I can get more Rylan fics

#so many fics planned in my head #just gotta write them...

[chipper9906]

Switch - Chapter 4

Pairings: Dylan Lenivy/Ryan Erzahler

Chapter Word Count: 8,400

Overall Word Count: 38,882

Status: Multi-Chapter - In Progress (4/5)

Chapter Preview:  

“Don’t worry, I’ll sucker-punch one of the cops when they arrive so we get incarcerated together. Prison buddies!”

That at least gets him a small chuckle from Ryan, which Dylan counts as a success. “I just wanna get the hell out of here and forget this whole night ever happened…”

“Well… I hope you don’t want to forget the entire night…”

Ryan’s lips curled up, head tilted slightly to the side. He leaned forward in his chair, closer to Dylan. “No… There were definitely some memories made that I think I’ll hang onto.”

Dylan found himself leaning forward, too. “…Wanna make some more?”

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04:00 | AUGUST 23 - RYAN

HACKETT’S QUARRY LODGE

It felt like the entire lodge was shaking apart as the creature atop the roof tried to find a way in. And it found one, if the billowing of dust and chunks of brick flying off the chimney of the fireplace were of any indicator. 

“It… It can’t get through brick, can it?” Ryan asked, daring a quick glance to Dylan’s horrified face before looking back at the destruction in front of him. Deep down, he had his answer already. If one of them had been able to tear through the wooden roof of the radio hut to get to Dylan, then why exactly would brick be any different? 

Muted growls flow out from the bottom of the fireplace, the grumbling of the beast's chest harmonizing with the crumbling of the fireplace. Suddenly, the painted face of the Hackett hung above the fireplace rips open, replaced by the face of a different Hackett — though, this one with red eyes and a tad more wolfish features. It only takes a single swing of the beast's paw to send the portrait flying, further opening up the hole it had carved into the chimney, desperate to get to them. 

So desperate in fact that it leaps at them without a second thought…

And slams straight into the wooden barrier, crashing down to the ground below. 

Ryan and Dylan look at each other in disbelief, unsure whether that was pure luck or… if maybe these things weren’t the smartest. They both hold their breath, listening intently for any sounds from the wolf below them. Had it knocked itself out? It wasn’t dead, that was for sure. Unless the barrier secretly had silver embedded within the wood, but that wasn’t very likely. 

Then, they hear it. Quiet and subtle, but there. The ‘click’ of claws against the floor, slowly but steadily moving towards them. Moving up the stairs. Dylan instinctively begins to back up, moving behind Ryan, despite the fact the other boy was slightly smaller than him. Then again, he did have the gun. 

The wolf’s soft growls reach their ears as its head pops over the edge of the stairs, locking onto them. Ryan brings up the gun, pointing it directly at the center mass of the beast, and thinks… What’s the point? He doesn’t have any silver loaded in the shells. All that shooting the thing would achieve now is shock it — and piss it off. It could buy them some time, sure, but it was probably best to save the ammo for when the thing's right on top of them. Right now, there was only one thing they could do. 

Run. 

“Go, go! Dylan, go!” Ryan spins around, frantically pushing at Dylan to start moving. Dylan doesn’t need to be told twice, hurrying after Ryan, the two running down the dark hallways of the lodge. 

Ryan reaches the door to the classroom first, nearly slamming into it with how fast he was running. He throws the door open, looking behind to see Dylan right behind him. He gestures with a frantic nod of his head to Dylan to go through, waiting to see Dylan was through and safe in the other room before entering himself. But before he does, he makes the mistake of looking back, only to see those piercing red eyes bobbing away in the darkness, growing larger and larger as the beast draws nearer. 

Ryan practically flings himself into the room, slamming the door closed and dragging over a little kid's chair to place under the handle. Something like that seemed like it’d be reduced to kindling in mere seconds. He turns around, Dylan’s name on the tip of his tongue, only to see…

Dylan wasn’t there. 

“Dylan?” He says anyway, eyes darting around the room. Ryan jolts at the sounds of the werewolf slamming its hands against the door, which threatened to give away at any minute. “Fuck--” 

Ryan didn’t have time. He ran towards the stairs in the corner of the room, only able to hope that this is where Dylan had gone. He emerges onto the upper balcony of the lodge, surrounded by old furniture and other long-forgotten trinkets kept up here for storage. 

And no Dylan. 

And… no way out.

 Shit. There was only one way in or out of this floor, and they were the stairs he had just come up. He had two options… Climb along the precarious beam and to the other side of the lodge where there was another way down… Or climb out the window. 

Either way, there was a very real possibility of him falling to his death. 

Ryan chooses on instinct, running over to the banister and where the beam lies in wait. He clambers over, breath hitching as he looks past his feet and down to the floor below that seemed very far away. He takes one careful step forward, and then another, taking his time--

A low growl from behind him freezes him to the spot, craning his head around. It seems the door had given way… And now the wolf was hot on his trail. 

Ryan takes another step forward — another few steps, these not quite as careful as the last two given the threat of being ripped apart was currently chasing him. His arms were splayed out to his side, doing his best to keep his balance. He looks behind him again, for what reason he doesn’t know, heart stopping at just how close the wolf was. The wolf opens its mouth wider, long tongue snaking out its mouth as it coils in on itself. Ryan tenses up as the wolf leaps towards him, clawed hands outstretched, and…

And once again goes crashing to the ground. 

Again… Luck, or stupidity…?

Either way, he’ll take it. 

He makes it safely over to the other side, swinging a leg over the banister and hoisting himself over. He heads directly towards the stairs, sprinting down them, and just keeps going, finding himself back where he had started: back in front of the — now — demolished fireplace chimney. 

“Ryan!” Ryan turns around at the hushed whisper of his name, relief flooding through his system at the sight of Dylan. Relief, and… a little irritation.

“The fuck happened to staying close?” Ryan hissed. 

“I thought you were behind me!” Dylan argued back in his defense. 

“Just… actually stay close this time, okay?” Ryan reached forward to grab Dylan’s hand and lace their fingers together. With a tug of his hand and a flick of his head, Ryan pulled Dylan down yet another set of stairs, making their way down to the ground floor of the lodge. They come to a skidding stop at the bottom of the stairs, about to run and find somewhere else to hide when something catches their attention. 

“Ryan! Ryan!”

“Ryan! Over here! RYAN!”

It was Abi and Emma, pounding on the door to Chris’s office. They must have come up from the storm shelter… But why? Were they in trouble? Ryan moves towards the sound of their yells but finds himself pulled to a stop by Dylan. “Ryan, we don’t have time for that, come on!”

“They might need our help!” Ryan said, keeping his tone hushed.

Dylan looked like he wanted to argue, looking behind him toward the direction of freedom. He turns back to Ryan with a sigh, nodding his head. “Okay… Okay, let’s go.”

Ryan gave Dylan’s hand a gentle squeeze before pulling him along again, heading towards Abi and Emma’s yells. Dylan continuously looks over his shoulder as they run, nearly smacking into the back of Ryan when he comes to a stop in front of the door. 

“Guys? What’s--?”

“Here! Silver shells!” Abi’s muffled voice comes from the other side of the door. Ryan looks down to see said shell rolling from underneath the gap in the door, quickly snatching it up from the ground. 

“Okay--” Ryan releases the latch on the shotgun, snapping it open to reveal two live shells already loaded. He pulls one out, replacing it with the silver one he’d just picked it up, storing the non-silver shell in his pocket. He snaps the front end back into place, nodding to Dylan. “Alright, let’s keep going.”

They run, back into the main part of the lodge, trying to find somewhere they can go. Somewhere to hide. Ryan’s eyes dart over to the kitchen doors, which seem as good a place as any. He looks over to Dylan, meeting the other boy's eyes, who seems to agree with him given the nod he gets. 

They’re only able to move a few steps toward the kitchen when it happens. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, the werewolf drops down right in front of them. It hits the floor hard enough that it kicks up a layer of dust but still manages to stay on its feet. Ryan and Dylan jump back at its sudden appearance, their shell-shocked state wasting valuable seconds. It’s only once the wolf stands to full stature, towering over them as a borderline painful-sounding growl rips from its throat that Ryan reacts. He brings up the shotgun, pressing the stock against his shoulder and taking aim. He takes aim, flashlight reflecting off its crimson eyes, finger ready on the trigger, and…

He does the worst thing he could possibly do. 

He hesitates. 

He can’t help it. He looked the beast straight in the eyes, and for a moment, he didn’t see a wolf. He wondered who those eyes belonged to. He wondered if it was Chris, and in his mind he saw the moment he took Ryan under his wing, an arm wrapped around his young self’s shoulder as they sat together on the dock overlooking the Quarry’s lake, murmuring gentle reassurances that everything would work out okay. He wondered if it was Caleb, and he saw himself, Caleb, and Kaylee out on a hike deep in the woods surrounding Hackett’s Quarry; him and Kaylee laughing until their sides hurt at Caleb tripping over an exposed tree root. 

He hesitates… but whoever this was in werewolf form did not. 

Its growl crescendos as it leaps toward him, clawed hands outstretched. Ryan closes his eyes, waiting for the impact--

It doesn’t come from the wolf. 

It comes from Dylan, who pushes him out of the way. Ryan goes tumbling to the floor, dazed by the sudden sideswipe. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, thankfully with shotgun still in hand. His stomach clenches with fear at the sight of Dylan, flat out on his back, pinned down by the werewolf. Its body hovered over Dylan, lanky arms placed on either side of him. Dylan tried to turn his face away — away from the beast's foul-smelling breath as it brought its dagger-teeth-filled mouth closer and closer, taking deep sniffs of Dylan’s scent. 

Dylan was protected… but for how long? How long did the camouflage last? Ryan managed to get to his feet, shakily bringing up the gun once more. But he couldn’t get a clear shot. The gun simply had too much spray; there was every chance the round could catch Dylan, still underneath the wolf… He had to do something. He had to get it off of him. 

“Hey!” Ryan yells out. The wolf stops mid-sniff, slowly turning its head to face Ryan. Dylan was frozen underneath the wolf, wide eyes darting between it and Ryan. The wolf snarled at him, untangling its long limbs from Dylan and stepping over him. Dylan unfreezes, scrambling away from the wolf and out of the line of fire. 

This time, Ryan does not see Chris or Caleb. 

He sees Nick, bloody and mangled, being dragged by the nape of his shirt by the hunter — by one of the Hackett’s. He sees Abi being flung across the pool house like a ragdoll by Nick. He sees Nick, torso filled with buckshot, groaning in agony mere seconds before one of those things rips out of him. He sees Dylan, hears Dylan, hears his yells fill the radio hut; see’s Dylan’s blood rain down as they sink their teeth into his hand. He seems himself press the chainsaw against Dylan’s arm, pretending it wasn’t because of him that Dylan was screaming on the ground as his hand is sliced from the rest of his body. 

He sees Dylan now, face caked in werewolf blood, shirt drenched with his own blood, pleading eyes looking right back at him. 

This time, Ryan doesn’t hesitate. 

He pulls the trigger. The shot rings out, and the werewolf stumbles back as the spray of silver hits it directly in the chest. It shrieks in pain, flesh sizzling from the silver, clawing at its own chest as if it could pull out the shrapnel embedded within. It drops down to its knees, limbs seizing up, whether in pain or because it was a side effect of the silver, Ryan didn’t know. Then, it slumps onto its back, body giving a few last feeble twitches before going still. 

“Is it… Is it dead…?” Dylan asks, inching closer to the beast's body. He skirts around it, hustling over to Ryan’s side, neither of them tearing their gaze away from the — hopefully — deceased creature. 

“I… I think so…” Ryan looks away for one second, down at the gun in his hands, and that’s when it happens. There’s a disgusting squelching sound of flesh exploding, and he glances up, only to see… nothing. 

“Don’t look--” Dylan had jumped in front of him, tugging Ryan towards him and wrapping his arms around him. All Ryan could see now was blackness with his face pressed into Dylan’s chest. “It’s… It’s best if you don’t look.”

Ryan brought up an arm to wrap around Dylan, returning the other boys' embrace. He could feel his arms trembling, eyes closed tight as he buried his face into Dylan’s comforting warmth, the thud of his heartbeat never quite as reassuring as it was right now. 

“Come on… Let’s get out of here,” Dylan suggested, loosening his grip a little to let Ryan pull away. Ryan does so, but still Dylan makes sure to keep himself directly in front of him, not letting him see what was behind him. Ryan wasn’t even sure if he wanted to look. If he… if he wanted to know who it was he had just killed. 

Ryan reaches out for Dylan’s hand again, only to find Dylan was already reaching out for him, too. Their hands meet, fingers slotting perfectly together, and Ryan lets Dylan pull him away from a sight he was sure would haunt him forever if he looked. 

They’re a few steps away from the door to Chris’s office when it swings open. There on the other side are Abi and Emma, alive and well. For a few seconds, they can only stare at each other in relief. Then, Abi and Emma are running towards them, crashing into them as they all embrace one another in a group hug. 

There weren’t even any words exchanged. For a moment, they just… held each other. Grateful they were all still alive. Grateful it wasn’t long until sunrise. 

Grateful that soon… It’d all be over. 

* * *

04:31 | AUGUST 23 - KAITLYN

HACKETT WOODS

“...Kaitlyn? Kaitlyn!”

There’s a pounding in Kaitlyn’s head and a ringing in her ears so piercing that she can barely hear someone calling her name. What had even happened? One second she and Laura are coming to the rather late realization that ‘Silas’, the young boy Travis told them about back in the house is the same ‘Silas’ they heard from… The Hag, she supposed. Then the next second…

Well, the next second her head hit the car door and it was lights out. 

“Kaitlyn! Talk to me, are you okay?”

“Barely…” Kaitlyn groans. She cracks her eyes open, immediately regretting it when her pounding headache gets worse. Her blurry vision starts to clear, and she can just about make out Laura’s concerned face come into view. Though, it’s not too concerned for long, quickly being replaced with relief as Kaitlyn’s eyes lock onto hers. 

“Oh, thank god… You’re alive.” Laura slumps back into her seat, running a hand down her face. “Jesus, you… You had me worried for a sec there.”

“Only for a sec?” Kaitlyn teased, slowly pushing herself up from her slumped position. Every little movement she made set off a wave of nausea, so it was starting to look more and more likely that she was a little concussed… “Damn… And here I thought we’d gotten kinda close this evening.”

“Well, luckily, you were only passed out for a few seconds,” Laura said. 

Kaitlyn brought up a hand to the sore spot on the side of her head, wincing as she lightly pressed against it. “Was… Was there a werewolf on the car?”

“Yep. Seems Silas found us…” Laura reached over, opening up the car door. “Come on… Travis is waiting for us.”

“Oh, because that makes me want to hurry…” Kaitlyn mumbles, but opens up her own door anyway. 

They step out of the car, closing their doors in sync. Travis stood not far from them, bathed in red as the taillights of the car illuminated him. Seems he had found the shotgun that was in Kaitlyn’s lap before… well, before everything and everyone in the car got kind of thrown around. He gave them a quick glance over his shoulder to acknowledge their presence, before nodding to the ground in front of him. “Got some blood… Leads off into the woods here.”

Kaitlyn and Laura stepped up to his side, staring out into the deep dark woods in front of them. “Recognize this place?” Travis asks Laura, not removing his gaze from the woods. 

“Yeah… This is where Max and I went off the road two months ago. When we tried to avoid that… well, Silas, I guess.” Laura glances in Travis’s direction as she speaks, the memories of the night flooding back to her. Her eyes quickly dart down to the gun in his hands, then back to Travis’s face.

“You’re probably trying to decide if you should shoot me in the head right now,” Travis says out of nowhere. At least, to Kaitlyn it was. He turns his back to Kaitlyn, facing Laura as he holds out the shotgun for her to take. “Go ahead. If that’s what you want, then I won’t stop you.”

“Wait, hold up--” Kaitlyn tries to protest, but it goes unheard as Laura snatches the offered weapon from Travis’s hands. Laura brings up the gun, flashlight aimed directly at Travis’s chest. She holds it there, and Kaitlyn wonders if she’s about to see another Hackett’s head get blown clean off his body. But then, to her and Travis’s relief, Laura is lowering the gun down, unable to bring herself to do it. 

“Normally, I’d have werewolf’s blood to cover our scent, but I’m all out, so we’re high risk. We could be killed,” Travis warns them, adjusting his stance so he was addressing the both of them. “You ready to end this?”

Laura’s eyes meet Kaitlyn’s. They both had their answer.

“Let’s fucking do this.”

You know what? Never mind… Kaitlyn didn’t want to do this. 

As if being in the woods at night couldn’t get any creepier. But apparently, it did. All it took was the knowledge that the werewolf they were hunting could very well be hunting them, and the fear factor was turned up to eleven. 

“This is where I saw her…” Laura murmured, her voice bringing them all to a stop.

“Her?” Travis asked. 

“The… Hag Of Hackett’s Quarry, I guess… There was this old woman I kept seeing between the trees, it freaked me the hell out... I thought it was her Max and I had hit that night, but… it wasn’t.” Laura answered. 

Travis sighed. “That stupid fucking podcast… There is no ‘Hag’, alright?”

“Then why did I hear her say ‘Silas’ that night? And then again tonight, back in the Quarry. We both heard it, right, Kaitlyn?”

“Yep. Wish I hadn’t, though…”

“That’s… That’s not possible,” Travis insisted. “Look, the… the ‘Hag of Hackett’s Quarry’ is just a stupid ghost story that was made up after the fire, alright? What you’re suggesting, it… it can’t be possible.”

“Why not?” Kaitlyn probed. 

“Because it sounds a lot like you’re talking about Eliza Vorez. She’s… Silas’s mother. I think…”

“You think she was Silas’s mother? Or you think it’s Eliza?” Laura asked. 

“Both. Eliza was part of the same traveling show Silas was in, the ‘Harum Scarum’. She ran the thing. They came down here six years ago, her and her show… They kept Silas, her ‘boy’, locked up in a cage. ‘Silas the Wolf Boy’, she called him… There was… There was a fire. Eliza didn’t make it. That’s where the whole ‘Hag Of Hackett’s Quarry’ thing started. Rumors that she never left here…”

“And is still looking for her son…” Kaitlyn guessed. 

“Her and me both,” Travis said. “Me and my family have been tracking Silas down ever since.”

Travis turned, ready to continue walking, but came to a stop as Laura started speaking. “You’re not telling us everything, are you?”

Travis still hadn’t turned back around. “What makes you say that?”

“For god’s sake -- would you stop with the secrecy?! I mean, seriously?! You realize it���s because you kept hiding shit from me that I didn’t know about Silas? Or Caleb? That I didn’t know it shouldn’t have been Chris I was after--”

“Don’t you give me that!” Travis snapped, whirling back around. “Don’t you start pinning my brother's death -- my family’s death -- on me! Coz we both know full well that you would have gone after him either way! He would have been the easier option, and you’d have killed him without a second thought!”

“Well, we’ll never know, because you didn’t fucking tell me, did you?!”

“Because I was trying to protect my family! All I wanted was your help, your expertise. I wasn’t expecting for you to go Rambo on my entire fucking family!”

“Can we stop yelling?!” Kaitlyn hissed, snapping Travis and Laura out of their rage. “High risk, remember?”

“Right,” Laura agrees. “And that means we need all the information we can get. So if you are keeping stuff from us--”

“You blew half the head off my niece, Kaylee Hackett. One of the kindest, gentlest souls to ever walk this earth,” Travis cut Laura off mid-sentence. “All she wanted to do was help. Locked in a cage by that… freakshow witch.”

“...What did she do?” Kaitlyn dared to ask. 

“She just… She just wanted to help,” Travis insisted. “She convinced Caleb to start a fire. Something small, just as a distraction. A few hay bales… They hoped it’d give them enough time to unlock the cage and get Silas to his freedom.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t go down that way?” Kaitlyn asked. 

Travis shook his head. “No. Hay, it… it burns fast. Too fast. It got out of control, and within minutes… everyone was dead. Eliza, her crew… Even my former boss. But not Silas. Kaylee managed to get him out, but… Silas bit Caleb during the escape.”

“So that’s where it all started,” Laura noted. “That’s why you’re hunting Silas.”

“Every full moon. For six fucking years…” Travis drawls. “But that ends tonight.”

* * *

“My god…”

Kaitlyn had to agree with Laura there…

In front of them was… a nest. An actual nest. The wolf — Silas — had made… some sort of shelter for itself. There were thick branches and twigs stacked side by side in a tent-like shape, sat atop what looked like some burnt remnants of the show he was once part of. And there, curled up on himself in what looked like a less than peaceful sleep… was Silas.

“...my boy… my boy…” 

Those familiar cries echoed around them as they inched closer to the sleeping beast. The cries of Eliza… The cries of the Hag. Begging them not to put an end to her son's life. 

For a moment, they just stood there. Staring. He looked almost… pathetic, like this. No, that wasn’t the right word. Kaitlyn knew she should be feeling some disgust right now at the sight of him. His skin looked even paler than the brief glimpse Kaitlyn had gotten of him earlier tonight. Or, perhaps that was because of the blood he was coated in — blood she hoped was his own, and not… not anyone back at camp. But… right now, she felt more pity for it. For the boy that was trapped within. 

Slowly, Laura brings up the gun. The flashlight passes over him, blood-soaked body gleaming in the light. Her finger moves, down from the base of the gun to the trigger. Then--

Travis puts a hand over the gun, stopping her. “I’ll do it…” He says quietly, keeping his voice near a whisper. 

Laura frowns, not yet relinquishing her hold on the gun. “But--”

“If I wanted to kill you, I’d have done it by now. I’ve had multiple chances to, but I haven’t. I don’t want to. All I want… is to end this. End the hell that my family found themselves in. And you kids… You never should have been subjected to any of this. You… You’ve already had to pull the trigger one too many times tonight. Please, just… just let me do this.”

Kaitlyn’s eyes darted between their mini-standoff and Silas, just waiting for the moment he would wake up and devour them. Laura was staring straight into Travis’s eyes, who stared right back at her. She loosens her grip on the gun, allowing Travis to slide it out of her hands. Which… wasn’t exactly what Kaitlyn was expecting, given… every interaction she’s seen from Laura. Then again, if she was given an out from murdering a child… 

She’d probably take it, too. 

Travis steps closer to Silas, who shifts slightly in his sleep, but thankfully doesn’t wake up. Travis takes aim, flashlight once against washing over the beasts slumbering form. “I’m sorry…” Travis at least has the decency to apologize for what he has to do. 

He pulls the trigger. 

Kaitlyn can’t look. She turns away as the bang of the shotgun goes off, not wanting to see… any of it. It would be hard enough to see him in his wolf form with a round of silver pumped into him, but given how quickly Kaylee turned back to her human form after being shot… Looking back at him now would mean she’d be forced to see a young, feral boy splayed out in his fucking nest, just… just fucking dead. 

“Kaitlyn…” Laura’s gentle voice and soft touch on her shoulder forces Kaitlyn’s eyes open. “It’s okay… It’s over. It’s over.”

Laura was right. It was over. It was all well and truly over. They were alive. Laura laughs in pure, sweet relief, and then she’s pulling Kaitlyn into a well over-due hug. Kaitlyn happily returns the embrace, squeezing her back as a few relief-filled laughs escape her, too. 

It was over. 

They were alive.

Now they just had to find out if the same could be said for everyone else…

* * *

04:31 | AUGUST 23 - DYLAN

HACKETT’S QUARRY LODGE

Being back in Mr. H’s room was both a huge relief and… kind of uncomfortable. It felt like a lifetime ago now that he and Ryan were in this room, back when the biggest worry he had was how Ryan would react to him asking if he had a boyfriend back home. Man, and he had been so stoked for the possibilities the night could bring… One last night, no kids, no boss… And the little smile Ryan had given him when he did ask him if he had a boyfriend? Things were really starting to look up. 

Then the werewolf’s happened, and well… He’s now one arm lighter than he was. 

But he did get three kisses from Ryan throughout the night, so… One hell of an exchange, really. 

“So… Are we really just gonna wait then?” Emma spoke up, bringing Dylan out of his thoughts. 

“Yes,” Abi said, turning away from the office window she had been looking out of. Not that she was able to see much. “We don’t know how many more of those things there might be! I’d really prefer it if we all just wait here until the sun comes up…”

“I just… don’t like doing nothing,” Emma said, leaning against the table in the back of the room — the same table Dylan placed their charging phones on yesterday evening. “But I also like not being ripped apart, so…”

“Speaking of not being ripped apart… Why did you guys come up from the storm shelter?” Dylan asked. 

“Her idea,” Abi answered, gesturing with a thumb towards Emma. 

“I just thought it’d be smart if we covered all possible exit plans,” Emma said, a hand to her chest. “What if one of those things had managed to get through the storm shelter doors? What then? Abi found the ladder, so I suggested we go up and take a look.”

“Okay… And why’d you stay up here?”

“Because we--” Abi began to answer, eyes brightening as she remembered something. “Oh, crap! We haven’t told you yet! When we came up, we found this, like, secret room or something with--”

“A bunch of creepy-ass monitors displaying camera footage?” Dylan finished for her. 

“Wha--” Abi cut herself off with a shake of her head. “How did you know?”

“Me and Ryan found it yesterday.” Dylan’s eyes slid over to the other boy as he said his name. Ryan had yet to be a part of the conversation, and, honestly… It didn’t seem like he was paying much attention to it either. He was sat in Mr. H’s chair, the shotgun resting up against the desk, and the photo of Mr. H, Caleb, and Kaylee in his hands. He had been staring at it ever since they came in. 

“And you didn’t think to mention it?” Emma asked. 

“We did. To Kaitlyn. But she and Ryan had this perfectly rational explanation that they were trail cams Mr. H set up to check on wildlife and catch bigfoot and stuff. Course, now we know that’s not the reason he set them up, and I’d like to point out that I thought it was weird, but… Y’know, not this weird.”

“Well… If it weren’t for those cameras, you and Ryan would be... pretty dead right about now,” said Emma. 

Dylan raised an eyebrow at the claim. “How so?”

“Didn’t you notice that Mr. H had them set up inside the lodge too?” Abi says, pointing to her right, to the door that led out to the main area of the lodge. “We saw you guys on the cameras. Saw one of those things chasing you around…”

“Yeah, it’s a good thing Abi remembered about the silver shell we found down in the basement…” Emma added. “Honestly, you pretty much owe your lives entirely to her. She’s the one that came up with the idea to pass the shell under the door when you guys passed by.”

Abi flushed at the compliment from Emma, looking away with a shake of her head. “No, that was… That wasn’t anything. And if you hadn’t insisted we come up here, then I would have stayed down in that basement anyway, so…”

“Wait, uh…” Dylan interjected. “When you say you saw us… How much exactly are we talking about…?”

“We saw you guys kiss if that’s what you’re asking,” Emma oh so gracefully says. It sets off an instantaneous flush of heat to Dylan’s face, which makes it significantly harder to pretend like he wasn’t bothered by any of this. 

“We couldn’t hear anything though, if that makes you feel any better?” Abi sheepishly offers. 

“Yeah, but it seemed super sweet, by the way. At least, the first one did,” says Emma.

“...So you saw both, huh?” Dylan asks. Then he frowns, thinking over what Emma had just said. “Wait, what do you mean ‘the first one did’?”

“You kidding? We didn’t need audio to see you two were getting super pissy about something,” Emma explains. “Doesn’t help the camera is like, super choppy. Next frame, it looked like Ryan was trying to devour you whole or something. I was starting to think we were gonna get a free show… Abi actually had to cover her eyes.”

“It was a private moment!” Abi exclaimed. “And you shouldn’t have been looking, either!” 

“You kidding? I’d pay to see--”

The sound of glass smashing cuts off the rest of Emma’s sentence, startling all of them. They all look over to the source of the sound, only to see it had come from Ryan. It didn’t take much looking to figure out what had happened. Mr. H’s photo lay on the desk, the glass front shattered. Ryan’s trembling hand was held above it, clenched into a fist, the side of his hand dripping blood onto the desk. 

“Holy Shit, Ryan--” Dylan was the first to spring into action, moving past a shocked Abi and over to Ryan’s side. He gently took hold of Ryan’s hand, who let Dylan essentially manhandle him as he turned his arm around to get a better look at the injury. “The hell did you do that for, man?”

“We’re gonna… Go check the cameras again,” Emma awkwardly stated.

“We are?” Abi asked, eyes widening at Emma’s pointed look towards Dylan and Ryan as she took her hand, pulling her back in the direction of Mr. H’s secret surveillance room. “Oh… Okay, yeah, we’re checking the cameras.

“Shit, Ryan… There’s glass in your hand.” And there were; small jagged pieces had lodged themselves into the soft flesh, coated in Ryan’s blood as it continued to spill. He needed to get those shards out… Ideally, he needed a first aid kid… “Okay, just… just hang on a second.”

Dylan jumped up from Ryan’s side, headed straight towards the bathroom. There’s a roll of gauze in the cabinet that he snags, along with some adhesive tapes and a bottle of painkillers At least, the ones that have a name he recognizes, anyway. 

He balances both items in the crook of his left elbow, before dumping them on the desk as he returns. Then he walks back over to Ryan’s side and grabs him by the uninjured arm, tugging him up. “Come on… We need to clean it.”

Ryan let Dylan pull him up, silently following Dylan to the bathroom. Ryan was always a kind of quiet guy, but… this was different. And Dylan really didn’t like it. But right now, he was focused on stopping Ryan from bleeding all over the damn floor. He turns on the tap to the sink, pulling Ryan’s hand towards the flow of water. 

“Sorry, this is gonna sting a little,” he warns Ryan before holding Ryan’s hand under the gentle stream. Ryan only gives a small wince at the first touch of water against his hand, watching as his diluted blood slips down the drain, along with a few shards of glass that had been loosened by the flow.

Satisfied Ryan’s hand was under there long enough, Dylan switches off the water. He grabs a hand towel off a nearby holder, carefully pressing it to Ryan’s hand before pushing Ryan back in the direction of Mr. H’s office. “Sit,” he orders Ryan, who does, dutifully dropping back down into the chair, arm outstretched for Dylan to attend to. 

Ryan cocks up an eyebrow in surprise as Dylan takes a seat on the desk in front of him, grabbing Ryan’s injured hand and placing it in his lap. Dylan removes the towel from Ryan’s hand, and then he gets to work cautiously picking out the stray pieces of glass that remained. “Sorry… This’d be easier with my right hand.”

Ryan still doesn’t say anything, and the ball of worry in Dylan’s chest grows larger. He braves a glance over to Ryan, only to find him looking at… him. Dylan looks away, back to the task at hand. One by one, he pulls out the little glass fragments, discarding them in the trash bin underneath the desk. It seemed Ryan got lucky in that they were big enough for him to actually pull out… but not too big that they had done any serious damage. 

“I don’t think you need any stitches, but… I’m not exactly an expert,” Dylan tells him, rotating Ryan’s hand side to side in the hopes any leftover pieces of glass would reflect back at him. “We should probably ask Kaitlyn after… after she comes back.”

Dylan reaches over for the gauze, looking down at the roll of it in his hand, and then freezes. This… wasn’t exactly something he could do himself. Not with just one hand, anyway. “Uh… Ryan? Kind of need your help with this one.”

Ryan just nods his head, waiting for Dylan to tell him what to do. Dylan wrapped the first layer of bandage around Ryan’s hand, then tapped at the patch of bandage on top. “Alright, hold it in place for me for a sec.”

Ryan did as he was asked, reaching out with his other hand to stop the bandage from moving. He only moved his hand once Dylan began unwrapping the gauze again, making sure Ryan’s hand was well padded with multiple layers of bandage. 

Dylan placed the roll of tape between his legs, peeling off the tape and pulling out a strip, ripping it off the tape roll. He placed the piece of tape on the overlapping ends of the bandage, smoothing it down with his thumb to keep it secure. “Okay! I’m fairly sure that’s all gonna fall off your arm in all of about five minutes, but--”

“I nearly got you killed.”

Of all the things Ryan could have said to end his temporary muteness, that was the last thing Dylan expected him to say. “Uh… I’m sorry, what?”

“I couldn’t shoot it… Or… wouldn’t, I… I don’t know. But I didn’t. And then you… you had to intervene. You had to push me out of the way, and that… that thing was on top of you, and--”

“And I was okay because of the werewolf blood you slathered all over my face, remember?” Dylan pointed out. “Ryan, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“But you easily couldn’t have been. If you weren’t wearing that werewolf blood… Fuck. I shouldn’t have frozen up like that. You shouldn’t have--”

“So help me god, Ryan, if you say that I shouldn’t have pushed you out of the way, I will… I don’t know, what’s a good punishment? Deprive you of my love and affection?”

Ryan huffed, taking his injured hand out of Dylan’s lap and picking up the shattered picture frame laying on the desk. His eyes scanned over the picture as if he hadn’t seen it multiple times before, jaw clenched hard enough that Dylan swore he could hear his teeth grinding. “Who was it? Who did I shoot, Dylan?”

“Um…” Dylan shifted uncomfortably on the desk. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Ryan nodded, gaze stuck to the photo frame. A few stray drops of blood stained the broken glass, dots of red splattered across the three smiling faces. Dylan sighed, gazing down at his own lap as he answered. “…It was Caleb. I… I’m sorry, Ryan. I know you and Mr. H’s kids… you were close…”

“Yeah… I thought we were close, too,” Ryan mumbled under his breath. “Just not as much as I thought, apparently.”

“I mean… If they did tell you, would you even believe them?”

“I… I don’t know. I’d probably think it was a joke or something.” Ryan answered. 

“...And what if Mr. H told you? Would you believe him? Like, if he asked you for your help with it or something.”

“I… I really don’t know, Dylan. Like I said before, I feel like… like I don’t actually know Chris anymore. I look at this picture now, and it’s like looking at strangers. Strangers that, for some weird reason, I’m mourning for…”

“It’s not ‘weird’, man. You did know them, even if it's not in the way that you thought you did.” 

Ryan grunted in acknowledgment to Dylan’s words. He had that blank look on his face again like he was about to shut down everything going on in his mind, emotions included.

Dylan sighed, leaning forward and ducking his head to catch Ryan’s eye. “You know you’re allowed to feel sad about all this, right? There’s no need to put a brave face on around me.”

“No, I know. I just…” To Dylan’s surprise, Ryan took the photo in his hands and chucked it into the trash bin underneath Mr. H’s desk. “I’m tired of feeling sad. And angry. And scared. And… I’m just tired overall, I guess.”

“Yeah…” Dylan looked down to where the trash bin is on the other side of the desk, then back up to Ryan. “Uh… You do realize how suspicious it’s gonna look to the cops when they find that picture. In the trash. Broken. With your blood and DNA all over it.”

Ryan looked at the photo. And said blood of his. “Fuck.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll sucker-punch one of the cops when they arrive so we get incarcerated together. Prison buddies!”

That at least gets him a small chuckle from Ryan, which Dylan counts as a success. “I just wanna get the hell out of here and forget this whole night ever happened…”

“Well… I hope you don’t want to forget the entire night…”

Ryan’s lips curled up, head tilted slightly to the side. He leaned forward in his chair, closer to Dylan. “No… There were definitely some memories made that I think I’ll hang onto.”

Dylan found himself leaning forward, too. “…Wanna make some more?”

Dylan barely got the last word out before Ryan’s hand was curling into the collar of his shirt, pulling him in. Dylan happily let himself be pulled towards Ryan’s waiting lips, fingers clenched around the edge of the desk to keep himself in place. At least, that was the plan, until he realized just how uncomfortable it was to kiss Ryan at this angle, with Ryan nearly having to get to his feet to reach him. So he breaks away from the kiss, and any complaints Ryan was about to make are quickly quietened as Dylan slides off the desk and onto his lap, his words literally swallowed by Dylan’s mouth. 

Dylan could feel Ryan’s smile against his lips at the sudden position change, his injured hand resting against Dylan’s waist whilst the other climbs up his back, fingers lazily dragging up the nape of his neck before tangling themselves in his hair. The first tentative swipe of Ryan’s tongue across his bottom lip has Dylan’s stomach clenching, leaning further into Ryan, bodies pressed up against each other, chasing that addictive pressure--

CRACK

The back of the chair gives away — not all too surprising given how hard Dylan was pushing Ryan into it. The two of them go sprawling backward, the bottom of the chair shooting out from under them as they hit the floor hard. Ryan ends up a tad bit crushed under Dylan’s tall frame, dangerously close to getting a knee directly in the crotch with how they landed.

“Ow…” Ryan groans, to which Dylan breaks out into fits of giggles as he lays face down on Ryan’s chest. Ryan would argue that it was the vibrations of Dylan’s laughter tickling his chest that had him laughing too, but they both know that isn’t the case.

“Hope I didn’t just crush your balls or anything,” Dylan says, pushing himself off of Ryan. He gets to his feet, leaning over to hold out a hand to Ryan. 

“Thankfully, no. By some miracle, you missed.” Ryan takes Dylan’s hand, groaning as his sore ribs twinge — no doubt aggravated by having Dylan treat him as a landing pad. “Have to hand it to you, Dylan… That was definitely a memory I won’t forget.”

Ryan leaned past Dylan and towards Mr. H’s desk, pulling open one of the drawers. Dylan watched as he pulled out a notepad that had been tucked away, grabbing a pen that was on top of the desk, and hastily scribbled down something Dylan couldn’t see. 

“Here,” Ryan tore out the piece of paper he had written on from the notebook, holding it out for Dylan to take with a hint of a smirk. “Speaking of forgetting things… I almost forgot to make good on my promise.”

Dylan took the piece of paper. Scrawled across it in Ryan’s (remarkably neat given how fast he had written it) handwriting was a number, followed by Ryan’s name, along with a cutesy drawn smiley face that had Dylan smiling right back at it. 

“Wow… The end of an era… Dylan Lenivy finally convinces one Ryan Erzhaler to give him his phone number,” Dylan says, holding up the piece of paper with pride. “Although… I think you got something wrong there with your promise, Ryan.”

Ryan frowned at that, glancing up at the piece of paper. “I did?”

Dylan hummed an “Mmm-Hmm,” sliding the piece of paper into his back pocket, Ryan’s eyes following the entire way. “Unless I misheard you… I could have sworn you promised I could have ‘whatever I wanted’.”

Ryan too hummed, crossing his arms across his chest as he playfully narrows his eyes at Dylan. “You’re right, I did promise that,” he agrees, and the knowing smile he shot his way might just send Dylan into cardiac arrest. “So, tell me… What do you want, Dylan?”

"Well, Ryan... As I said before... I don't think you realize what you promised..." Ryan's eyes widened as Dylan's hand slipped under the hem of his shirt, curling a finger into a belt loop on the front of his jeans and tugging Ryan towards him. "...But I can give you a hint."

Ryan swallowed deeply, gaze flicking down to Dylan's inviting lips, then back up to his heated gaze. He steeled himself, never one to back down, eyes alight with challenge. "And as I said before... I promised exactly what I meant to promise..."

Dylan ducked his head down, capturing Ryan’s lips with his own. Their mouths separated only for the briefest of moments, enough for Ryan to breathe a contented sigh against Dylan's lips, before Dylan’s diving back in. Dylan’s fingers twitch against Ryan’s waist belt, overcome by the desire to have Ryan closer despite the fact their bodies were already flush against one another. 

A flashlight beaming in their direction interrupts them, pulling away and looking over to the glaring light with a wince. Emma had apparently returned without them realizing, leaning against the door frame with a satisfied grin and phone in hand. “And here ladies and gentlemen we have the camps loooooongest slow-burn finally coming to a head. I mean seriously, I wish Mr. H had let us keep our phones to document all of this for you guys, you would not believe the amount of pining we had to bear witness to…”

“First of all, I do not consent to you putting me and Ryan on your channel like that, that is a terrible first impression,” Dylan said, pulling his hand out of Ryan’s belt loops to point at the camera. “And secondly… I did not pine--”

“Oh, au contraire, my dear sweet Dylan… You have been displaying heart eyes at that boy day one of camp.��� The flashlight on Emma’s phone blinked off, and Emma lowered her phone back down. “But fine, I won’t upload it to my channel… It will be the first thing I send in the group chat though.”

“What group chat? We don’t have one,” Ryan pointed out. 

“Uh, you don’t think I’m going to make one the second we get signal?” Emma countered, which… yeah, they probably should have guessed she would. "Or... When I get a new phone, I guess. Mine got soaked..."

"Wait... Who's phone did you just use to violate our privacy with, then?" Ryan asks.

"Abi," Emma answers with a tone of 'duh'. "Heard you guys break something, followed by a 'thump', followed by giggling, so I knew something juicy was going on in here."

“Hey, guys!” Abi’s voice filters in from the direction of the surveillance room. “You need to check this out!”

“Appears we’re being summoned,” Emma says with a smile, tucking her phone into her pocket and stepping back through the door, back towards the hidden entrance of what Dylan will always refer to as ‘Mr. H’s secret lair’.

Dylan turns his head back towards Ryan, reminded of just how close they were standing together. “So… That just happened. And also didn’t, I guess…”

Ryan awkwardly clears his throat, looking away as he drums his fingers against Mr. H’s desk. "Uh... Probably not the best of time or place anyway."

"Yeah..." Dylan had to agree, stepping back out of Ryan's personal space. "Would be pretty weird to bone on our dead ex-bosses desk now I think about it."

"Dude!"

"Sorry..."

“Guys!” Abi calls again, sounding a teensy bit less patient than she was the last time. 

"Yeah, we're coming, we're coming..." Dylan grumbled, hand on Ryan's shoulder as they ducked under the door frame into Mr. H's hidden room. "...Or we might have been if you hadn't interrupted..."

“Oh my god, Dylan--”

“As much entertainment as watching you two flirt brings me, you should really be looking at this,” Emma cuts Ryan off, both her and Abi crowded around the monitors. 

Dylan and Ryan step closer to the spread of monitors on the desk, all four of them leaning closer to one particular monitor that showed surveillance footage of a trail that led right to the lodge. And on that monitor, on that trail was…

“Huh…” Dylan says, voice bright in both intrigue and, quite frankly, delight. “Who’s the dude rocking the exposed mid-riff?”

#dylan/ryan #ryan x dylan #dylan x ryan #radioheads #the quarry #the quarry game #the quarry spoilers #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler

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#the quarry #the quarry game #ryan erzahler #laura kearney #incorrect quotes #tumblr quotes

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Switch - Chapter 3

Pairings: Dylan Lenivy/Ryan Erzahler

Chapter Word Count: 8,513

Overall Word Count: 30,517

Status: Multi-Chapter - In Progress (3/?)

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Eventually, their laughter begins to subside, tapering off until they’re both just smiling at each other in the dark of the lodge, Dylan’s warm gaze locked on his, and--

Oh.

Ryan knew what that feeling was now.

He wanted to kiss Dylan.

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02:45 | AUGUST 23 — KAITLYN

HACKETT FAMILY HOUSE

Kaitlyn didn’t know how fast werewolf healing was supposed to be, but it sure as hell didn’t feel fast enough. Saying that, she wasn’t dead right now, so… there was that. But there also seemed to be a perpetual edge of darkness creeping into her vision that threatened to drag her under. Really, it was only due to the throbbing of the healing gash in her side that she was still awake. 

Laura grunts as she pushes a filing cabinet in front of the door they had come through, the screech of metal against wooden floors grating to Kaitlyn’s ears. “Well, they aren't getting through there in a hurry…” 

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that… That big dude seemed like he could punch through a wall if he wanted to.” Kaitlyn hobbled over to an old cabinet that was covered in what looked like decades of dust, leaning against it for a bit of a break. 

Laura looked over to Kaitlyn, her awe at the size of the Hackett’s house quickly switching to concern at the sight of her hunched over. “Still not feeling great?”

“Nope…” Kaitlyn sighed, eyes falling closed as she presses a hand to her side. “Sorry, I… We can keep going in a sec, I just… I just need a moment.”

“Yeah, of course. Don’t worry, you’ll be feeling better soon. It kicks in pretty damn quick.”

Kaitlyn huffs, shuffling to the side so her back was leaning against the cabinet. “Well, you sound like you’re full of energy and not like you’ve been up all night hunting down werewolves, so…”

“Yeah, I… do feel pretty damn good, actually,” Laura agrees, smile wide and teeth gleaming in the moonlight filtering in through the skylight above. 

“Uh, good as in--” 

Kaitlyn’s cut off as Laura takes a deep sniff of the attic air. “Do you smell that?”

“...Depends on what you mean by ‘that’, I guess. Do I smell the smell of an old-ass musty attic? Yeah, sure… What are you smelling?”

“Nothing, never mind,” Laura says, which isn’t at all concerning. “Hey, um… I just wanted to say thanks.”

“...For what?”

“Just… being here, I guess,” said Laura. “I know I said, like, five minutes ago that I shouldn’t have let you come with me, but… I’m glad you’re here. This, uh… This would have sucked alone.”

Kaitlyn managed a tired smile. “I’d say I’m glad I came too, but I kinda got stabbed, so…”

“Yeah, you kind of got the short end of the straw between the two of us,” said Laura. “How you feeling now? You up to walking some more?”

“Sure…” Kaitlyn groans, pushing herself away from the cabinet. “Let’s go find Mr. H and get this over with…”

Laura walks on ahead of her — being the one not stabbed and all that — heading further into the darkness of the attic. Although, she’s not walking for long before her foot bumps into something small on the ground which rolls away at the impact. 

“Huh…” She reaches down, plucking it up and holding it up to the limited light from the moon spilling into the room. 

“Find something?” Kaitlyn asks, limping over to her side. 

“Yeah. Proof we’re on the right track.” Laura holds out the used syringe she had picked up. “Some of Travis’s homemade sleeping formula… Can tell you from experience it’s damn strong stuff.”

“Seems kinda dangerous he’d use a drug he uses on werewolves to knock ‘em out on you.”

“Yeah, well... I got my own back. Now he knows what it feels like, too…” Laura flung the syringe back to the ground. It joined the many others that littered the ground, all used and discarded. 

“Is this what they’ve been doing this whole time? Every full moon, just… drugging them up and hoping for the best?” Kaitlyn asks. 

“Chris Hackett certainly didn’t seem all that drugged when he attacked us in the storm shelter. And neither did the one I shot by the pool.”

“Right, Mr. H’s daughter… Just how many of them are werewolves?”

“I dunno for sure. But Chris is the one that bit Max. So Chris is the one we’ve got to kill.”

The sound of something metallic dragging across the floor caught their attention. They peered towards the source of the sound, but not even Laura’s improved eyesight couldn't properly see what it was. The two exchanged questioning glances, and then Laura nodded, signaling for them to both step forward. 

They move as carefully as they can, at least, as much as possible for someone with a stab wound, advancing slowly forward. From here, they can just about make out the black lump sat in the middle of the room. But as they get closer, the details start to become clear. Right there, attached by chains to a wooden beam, was a werewolf. Soft growls rumbled from the beast, head hung low in what appeared to be sleep. But if it was asleep, it wasn’t for long. 

“Is that…?”

The wolf’s head groggily lifts up at the sound of Kaitlyn’s voice. The growls become louder, more vicious as the wolf gets up to its feet, towering over the two of them. It snarls, lunging towards them, but the chains wrapped around its wrists bring it to a halt.

“I think we found Chris Hackett.”

As if reacting to the sound of his name, the wolf goes to take another swipe at them. It swings its arm forward, and the chain snaps free from the post it had been drilled into. “Kaitlyn…” Laura tries to push Kaitlyn behind her, reaching for her gun… Except she doesn’t have it anymore. She had no way to kill him -- or defend themselves. 

The wolf makes an attempt to yank its other arm free of the chain, and succeeds. The chain is pulled out easily, dropping to the ground with an ominous-sounding rattle of metal. The wolf — Chris — drops down onto all fours, now free from his restraints. He slowly crawls towards them, one clawed hand in front of the other, sniffing out their scent with every inch he gets closer. 

It happens in a blink. For the second time tonight, the wooden flooring of a Hackett property collapses, breaking apart under the wolf’s weight. Laura grabs hold of Kaitlyn, trying to pull them both back, but it’s too late. Chris is sent careening down to the rooms below… And they too are dragged with him. 

Kaitlyn hits the ground hard, which did nothing to help her still healing side. Laura’s landing was a little softer, in that she landed directly on Kaitlyn — also not helping her healing side. She’d probably be groaning in pain if it wasn’t for the fact that the wind had been knocked out of her, unable to either exhale or inhale. 

There’s absolute chaos all around them. 

They had managed to drop down onto Bobby Hackett, who was currently fighting for his life against his own brother. It’s not until Laura scrambles off of her that Kaitlyn's lungs begin functioning once more, sucking in air through her teeth as the pain continues to ravage her body. 

“Oh God, not now! Not now! Come on!” Laura slams her hand against the side of her head, valiantly fighting back against the beast within. Kaitlyn manages to scramble up into somewhat of a sitting position, using her hands to push herself back. And just in time, it seems, as Laura screams out before promptly exploding. The red mist clears, and standing there is yet another werewolf, ravenous eyes searching the room for its first meal. 

Kaitlyn can only chalk it up to a miracle that the cop chooses this very moment to walk through the door, catching wolf Laura’s attention. 

Unfortunately for him, that means Laura has chosen her meal.

She races towards him, hand reared back before bringing it down hard across his face. The cop — Travis — is sent staggering back, crashing into the mirror hanging on the wall behind him. The gun in his hands is sent flying, and it’s yet another miracle that it comes skidding to a stop right in front of Kaitlyn. Both Travis and the mirror fall to the ground, shards of glass showering the floor. Travis reaches for one of the shards, seemingly not phased by the sharp edges biting into his skin. “Silver-backed mirror…”

Werewolf Laura roars, baring her razor-sharp teeth at Travis. Travis looks between the shard in his hands, then Laura, gripping it tight. “Bobby, the gun!” He yells to his brother, who was doing his best to fend off a werewolf with no weapons. 

But Bobby is unable to reach the gun. Nor is he able to fight for long. Werewolf Chris easily overpowers him, especially in Bobby’s weakened state. Bobby is flung hard into the wall, and instantly Chris has pounced on him. There’s nothing Bobby can do but scream out in pain as Chris sinks his teeth into Bobby’s neck, ripping out a large chunk of flesh, and just like that it’s all over. 

Kaitlyn was barely paying attention to any of this. Instead, she was busy trying to pull the gun towards her with her foot. She finally manages to snag it, sliding it towards her. She grabs it, rolling out from under the table and jumping to her feet, unsure whether it was the adrenaline or the healing effects of the werewolf curse that meant she was able to move around so easily now. 

Either way… she’ll take it.

There are two werewolves in the room. One’s crouched over Travis Hackett, teeth clenched around his arm that was holding the shard of glass — the only thing he had to save himself. And the other--

The other was standing over Bobby Hackett’s corpse. But now it’s running towards her, and Kaitlyn can only hope that this was Chris before she’s taking aim, and pulling the trigger. The shot hits its mark, the top of the werewolf’s head bursting open as the spread of silver rips through it. And then… Chris Hackett drops to the ground.

It was over. 

She had really done it… Mr. H was dead. Her boss, her camp leader, the guy who’d come sit by the fire with the kids and lead them in song… Kaitlyn didn’t even know what to feel. Relieved this was all over? Relieved she wouldn’t be turning into one of those things every full moon? Was she… Was she supposed to be sad? Maybe she was a little, but… what choice did she have?

Kaitlyn looks over just in time to see the wolf treating Travis’s arm as a chew toy explode back into Laura. She’s absolutely covered in blood, clad in only her underwear since the rest of her clothes had torn off her in her transformation. Both she and Travis look equally as shocked, a moment passing in which they can only stare at each other before Laura practically falls backward to the ground, eyes wide as they stare at the blade of glass in Travis’s hand. Travis follows her line of sight, arm shaking from both the aftereffects of adrenaline and the pain. He swallows harshly, and there’s a nervous few seconds where Kaitlyn’s wondering whether she should be bringing the gun back up again. But then Travis is throwing away the shard with a shake of his head, and it feels like the entire room takes a collective breath of relief. 

“Thanks, for uh… not killing me,” Laura awkwardly offers. 

“Yeah… Likewise…” Travis mutters.

“It… It worked…” Laura says, looking down at her blood-soaked hands. “I’m… I’m cured. So that must mean… Max? Is… is everyone back to normal?”

“What?” Travis’s eyes dart between them, frowning at the statement. “Oh… You think this is over?” He almost sounded like he wanted to laugh. “This isn’t over.”

“Uh… Come again?” said Kaitlyn. “I don’t get it… That… That was Mr. H, right?”

“Yes…” Travis says, dead eyes locked onto Kaitlyn’s. “Yes, that was my brother you just killed. But this didn’t start with Chris. Chris… wasn’t the first.”

“That’s not possible…” Laura muttered. “How…?”

“Chris was bit... Just like your boyfriend, and just like you,” Travis explains. 

“So who bit Mr. H?” Kaitlyn asks. 

Travis sighs, eyes dropping down to the ground. “Caleb. Kaylee — the girl you killed?” Travis directs towards Laura. “Her brother.”

Kaitlyn shakes her head, something she hoped wasn’t regret coiling in her stomach as she glanced over at Chris’s body. “So, wait… Caleb was the first?”

Travis slowly shakes his head. “No, he… he wasn’t born like this. But he was the first in the family -- in my family -- to get bit. Then… Caleb bit Chris and Kaylee. Chris just wanted to protect them. He was a good man, my brother.”

“Then who the hell bit Caleb?” 

“Silas. He’s a young boy that was part of a traveling show. We assumed he’d left the area long ago, but we always held onto hope that he’d come back someday. That we might finally rid our family of this curse. We’ve spent the past six years trying to track him down, but… we’ve had no luck. All we have are sightings of him up and down the coast… A feral albino child… A giant white wolf…”

“Hang on -- white wolf?” Kaitlyn said.

“What? What’d you say?” Travis scrambles up from the ground. He rushes towards Kaitlyn, roughly grabbing hold of her shoulders. “Where? Where’d you see it—”

“Hey! Let go of her—!” Laura jumps to Kaitlyn’s defense but, as it turns out, she didn’t need to. Travis’s frantic movements had come to a stop at the feeling of a barrel pressed against his stomach. He slowly looks down at the shotgun aimed directly at him, then back up to Kaitlyn’s hardened face.

“Back the fuck up,” Kaitlyn warns, to which Travis wisely takes a step back, hands raised in the air. “Every time I’ve had a Hackett run at me tonight, they’ve either tried to disarm me or kill me. I’m not taking any risks with you, either.”

“Okay, okay, just…” Travis pleased. “Did you see it? Did you see the white wolf?”

“I think so, yeah,” Kaitlyn answers. “Back at the cabins, earlier tonight. I didn’t exactly get the best look at it given we were running for our lives, but yeah. The thing nearly bit Dylan’s hand off.”

“Okay… Okay, it all makes sense…” Travis mumbles, lowering his hands back down and turning to face Laura. “He must have come back… He’s been back for months, and he’s what ran you off the road that day, two months ago.”

Travis diverts his gaze to Kaitlyn, desperation shining in his eyes. “Help me. Help me, we- we can still save Caleb. We can still save what’s left of my family. We… We can help those who are still alive.”

Laura looked over to Kaitlyn, only to find she was already looking at her, too. To say they both were exhausted at this point was an understatement; one suffering the after-effects of blood loss, and the other the after-effects of being a werewolf.

“Look, I get it,” Travis continues. “For you, and for Max, it’s over, right? I’m sure that’s all you care about. But you said this ‘Dylan’ got bit--”

“Dude cut his hand off,” Laura interjects, deflating some of the air from Travis’s argument. “So he’s fine.”

Travis sighed deeply, shoulders drooping in defeat. “Please. This… this is it. This is the end. We kill Silas? Everyone gets better. Everyone he’s ever bitten. If we don’t do this… What’s to stop it all happening again? Some other innocent person to be bit and cursed, and begin the cycle once more.”

“We… don’t know if everyone else is okay,” Kaitlyn points out to Laura. “Who knows what might have happened since we left the pool house.”

“Okay, okay…” Laura caves in — not looking happy in the slightest to be. “So... Where are we even gonna find him?”

Travis gets a rather weird look in his eyes after Laura’s question, something there almost… haunted. 

“I know exactly where to find him.”

  * * *

  03:32 | AUGUST 23 — RYAN

HACKETT’S QUARRY LODGE

The lodge never looked so… ominous. 

This place was supposed to be one of respite. A place where both kids and counselors would come together to sit and eat. A place where they’d do their rainy-day activities when the occasional summer storm blew in. And it was a place Ryan would sometimes sneak into, just for a moment of peace to himself.

Even then, when he was all alone, on nights just as dark as this one… It never seemed as dreary as it did now. 

Probably because of the very real possibility that a werewolf had followed them back from the scrapyard.

Ryan looks around, spotting a table that had been pushed up against the wall. “Here, Dylan, give me a hand,” he calls to Dylan as he darts over to the table, grabbing hold of its side to start dragging it away. 

“Sure. Just the one, though,” Dylan says as he appears by his side. They make quick work of sliding the table across the floor with two pairs of hands rather than one -- well, one and a half pairs rather than one. They place it in front of the double doors they had entered the lodge from, stepping back to admire their handiwork. 

“Yep. That’ll keep us safe,” Dylan asserts with a nod of his head. “I’m sure a table that two physically exhausted dudes were able to push around will hold up to a werewolf.”

“If it buys us time, then it’s good enough,” Ryan argues. “We’ve just got to make it through the night.”

Of course, it’s right then that a flash of lightning illuminates the interior of the lodge, quickly followed by a boom of thunder that rattles the windows. Dylan sighs, gesturing out to the windows. “Great… Just like the cartoons.”

“Seems a little on the nose, huh?” Ryan mutters. “You know, I was actually thinking about making a short animation of what’s happened tonight. But I think if I added in lightning right there, I’d still think it was cheesy. Even if it actually happened…”

“Wait, you animate?” Dylan asks. 

“Uh, well… trying to,” Ryan answers somewhat awkwardly. “It’s… kinda what I wanted to go to school for. But yeah, I do some small projects every now and then when I’ve got the time. Which… isn’t too frequent.”

“Oh. So you wanna be an animator then? Like, career-wise?”

“I guess so. But things are kinda messy at the moment, and… I don’t know, it just might not be in the cards for me right now.”

Dylan nodded, and Ryan was eternally thankful for Dylan’s ability to pick up on social cues, clearly recognizing that the topic of school was something Ryan was not in the mood to talk about right now. “So, uh… animation, huh? Man, I practically grew up on cartoons…”

“Me too. I, uh… watched a lot of Scooby-Doo as a kid,” Ryan admitted with a hint of a reminiscing smile. 

“Hell yeah!” Dylan beamed, holding up his hand for a high five. Ryan happily granted him his request, the slap of palm against palm reverberating around the room. “Aw, man… How’d you think Scooby and the gang would handle the little mess we’re in?”

“Well… It’d end up being someone in disguise, so... They’d probably handle it better than we will.”

“Yeah… It’d be a pretty dark episode if Velma went to take off the mask and got her hand ripped off instead.” Dylan laughed, then stopped, bringing up his severed hand. “Oh, wait…”

Ryan couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head at Dylan. “Now I kind of want to animate tonight as a Scooby-Doo episode.”

“Damn, that does sound cool… You better send it to me when you’re done!” Dylan insisted. “But when you draw me, can you draw me, like, super cute and handsome and stuff?”

“Sure,” Ryan agrees. “So just draw you as you are?”

“Heh, yeah,” Dylan absentmindedly answers, too focused thinking about the lingering feel of Ryan’s hand on his back to fully understand what Ryan had said. For about three seconds anyway, before it slammed into him like a freight train. “Wait, what--”

But Ryan was already heading further into the dark of the lodge, moving right past that little gem of a comment that had effectively blue-screened Dylan’s mind. “We should probably give this place a look over; see if there’s anything we can use.”

Dylan shook his head to clear his thoughts, heading over to Ryan’s side once again. “Uh, use how?”

“To defend ourselves. That thing might be coming after us, and if it is… we’ll have to do our best to fend it off. We’ve got the gun, but we should go and see what else might be in here. Maybe we’ll be lucky and find some silver or something…”

Dylan just nodded, keeping shoulder-to-shoulder with Ryan as they make their way over to the stairs of the lodge. “Silver, huh? So… Guess that means you believe Laura’s story now?”

Ryan comes to a stop, one foot placed on the first step of the stairs. Dylan stops with him, stepping back, perhaps a little concerned he had just brought up a sensitive subject. Ryan sighs quietly, stepping off the stairs and turning around to face Dylan. “I think… I think a part of me always believed it. I just… didn’t want to, I guess.”

“I’m guessing that’s something to do with Mr. H?” Dylan asks.

Ryan nods, eyes cast to the ground. 

“Can I ask… What exactly is up with you and Mr. H? I mean, I know you guys are close, but… You always seemed private about it, so I didn’t want to ask, but with everyone going on…”

Ryan’s instinctual reaction to that question was to clam up and try to steer the conversation in a different direction — or end it entirely, in some cases. Yet for some reason, he found that urge to freeze up and avoid the topic just kind of… fading away at the way Dylan was looking at him. That Dylan was asking the question not because it was in some way ‘gossip’ or ‘entertainment’, but because… he was interested. Because he wanted to help. 

“Chris helped me through a real shitty time in my life. Real shitty. With dad out of the picture, and mom… barely in the picture either, it was pretty much just me and Sarah. And… I guess I was lucky — am lucky — that my grandparents were willing to step in and help where they could, because otherwise… I’m not even sure if I would have made it here. When I first came to camp, I was still dealing with everything. Or, trying to, anyway. And Chris, he… He could see that I was struggling. When no one else could… he was there.

“I owe everything to Chris. And to Caleb, and… and Kaylee. They helped pull me out of a deep dark hole, and I just… wouldn’t be who I am without them. It’s all I’ve ever known Chris to do. To help others. It’s the reason he keeps this whole camp running, to help all the kids that pass through here, and now… Now everything is just so… fucked.”

Ryan closed his eyes, lowering his head with a deep sigh. “I don’t want to believe it. I don’t want to believe that those things out there are Chris and Caleb. But I have to. Otherwise… People I care about are going to get hurt. More than they already are. And I can’t let that happen. Even if… Even if it means killing the one person I trusted most.”

Ryan glanced up at Dylan, taken aback by the amount of pain he saw there. Pain he knew was on his behalf. “Shit, Ryan… That’s… I’m so sorry, man. That’s a lot.”

“Yeah…”

“Do you…” Dylan pauses, hesitating for just a moment. “Do you need a hug?”

“No,” Ryan answers automatically with an awkward-sounding laugh. But if he was being truthful with himself… “Actually… Yeah. Yeah, I really do…”

There’s no more hesitation from Dylan’s end. The moment he finishes speaking, Dylan has stepped towards him and is tugging him forward, wrapping Ryan up in an embrace. For what felt like the first time tonight, since being at the fire, Ryan relaxes. His head was pressed against Dylan’s chest, Dylan’s heart rhythmically thumping just below his ear. Dylan had his chin rested atop Ryan’s head, eyes scrunched close, seeming like he needed the hug about as much as Ryan did. Neither of the boys cared that the other stunk of sweat and was covered in blood. All that mattered was the soothing warmth of the other pressed against them, and with it the reassurance that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay. 

“This seems like it’d be more comfortable without the shotgun pressed into my stomach…” Dylan’s voice rumbles from his chest, both the words and the vibration of it making Ryan huff in laughter. They reluctantly pulled away from each other, and Ryan hopes he’s able to convey with his eyes how much he appreciated Dylan for doing that. 

And… how much he appreciated Dylan in general, really. 

“Guess we better… take a look around, huh?” Dylan reminds him, gesturing with a flick of his head to the stairs. 

“Yeah…” Ryan found himself rooted to the spot for a moment. And as he watched Dylan go, he became aware of… something settling in his chest. Something that had been making itself known at various points throughout the night, but he had sort of just… pushed it to the side. There had been more important things to focus on, like… not dying. And making sure Dylan doesn’t die. And Nick. Everyone, really. 

But now… now it was kind of hard to ignore. And all kinds of scary. And still, it wasn’t exactly the right time to think about it, because the moon still hung in the sky and their lives were still held in the balance, and so…

Ryan does what he’s best at.

He pushes it aside, and he carries on. 

* * *

4:00 | AUGUST 23 — RYAN

HACKETT’S QUARRY LODGE

Dylan was staring at him.

Ryan had felt his eyes on him for the past few minutes now. He could see him out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the barrier of the second floor, the imposing portrait of a long-dead Hackett looming behind him. 

Ryan meanwhile was sat on the floor, back leaning against the wall opposite. He was rotating the ring in his hands over and over, a flash of silver reflecting off its polished surface from the sliver of moonlight filtering in through the blinds behind him. 

“Are you looking at me, or the gun?” Ryan asks, eyes still locked onto the ring, said gun laid across his lap.

“Both. Both is the answer,” said Dylan. “But for the most part, definitely you.”

Ryan glances up to see that Dylan had pushed himself off the banister and was making his way over to him. He slid down next to Ryan with a sigh, wiping his sweaty, matted, blood-soaked hair off his forehead, a few stray hairs tickling his brow. 

“So… You wanna tell me what you’re thinking about?” Dylan asks, looking over to the ring in Ryan’s hands. “I mean, you’ve been staring at that thing ever since you found it. Kinda seems like something’s bothering you about it. And if I’m overstepping, don’t be afraid to tell me to fuck off. Promise I won’t get upset.”

Dylan’s able to pull a little smile out of Ryan for that. Ryan inhales deeply, switching over the ring to his left hand and cradling it in his palm, letting Dylan get a good look at it. The Hackett family crest sits proudly atop the ring's centerpiece — the part of the ring that Ryan had been staring at. 

“I think this belonged to one of Chris’s brothers. Or… another member of his family, I guess. Whoever it was that cut the power in here… And the phone lines…”

“And listened to us on the radio,” Dylan adds. 

Ryan nods, closing his fingers around the ring. “I never actually met any of Chris’s family. Other than Caleb and Kaylee of course. I just know that they have a house somewhere out in the woods. Or, at least, his mom does. He’d…” Ryan paused, shaking his head. “That’s why he went there. Every other night, he’d sleep right here, in the lodge. Yet twice over camp, he’d head over to his mother's house, and… I never questioned why.”

“It’s not exactly like you’d be looking for a reason for it to be suspicious,” Dylan points out. “He always left you in charge on those nights, so I kinda assumed he was… testing you, in a way? See if you had what it takes to be a camp leader.”

Ryan huffs. “Like passing on the torch?”

“Sure. It’s not exactly a secret that you’re his favorite, Ryan. I dunno, maybe Caleb didn’t want to follow in his old man's footsteps, and it’s not exactly like Mr. H could run the camp forever.”

Ryan slowly nodded his head, peeling his fingers back to give the ring another look. He plucked it out of his hand, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger as he holds it up to the light. “You know what’s funny? Before… all of this, do you remember Chris asking me for help finding the mini-van keys?”

“Yeah, of course. I was kinda busy swooning over you offering to share your earphones with me.”

“Of course you’d remember that.”

“Never gonna forget it, Ryan.”

Ryan shook his head, stifling yet another smile as he lowered his hand back down — and the ring with it. “He actually wanted to talk to me about my ghost stories.”

“Like… the ones you were telling around the fire?”

“Yeah. He wanted me to stop. Said I was frightening the kids with them too much. I guess he was worried I was driving business away or something, but…” Ryan’s fingers curled tightly around the ring, the blunt edges of the metal digging into his palm. “He was worried about me telling ghost stories… While he was out there, turning into one of those fucking things. He was right here, Dylan. Twice. Twice over camp, every damn year. There are… there are fucking kids here, man. We were those kids once. Campers. Campers who put their trust in their camp leader, and… he was putting them at risk. Putting us at risk.”

Dylan didn’t say anything. Which, in all honesty, was probably the best thing he could do right now. Sometimes there weren’t any words of comfort to be found, rather… the best form of comfort was to simply be there. To lend an ear and just let someone rant. 

“I feel like I don’t know him anymore…” Ryan whispered. “That’s just… not the Chris I knew. Or thought I knew, at least. And… fuck, and Caleb and Kaylee too, I… I never knew. All this time, they’d been keeping this from me. What if something had gone wrong while they were… hiding wherever they go while they’re in this state? What if what happened tonight happened over camp? If the full moon had been just one night earlier… All those kids, I…” Bile rose in Ryan’s throat at the thought. It would have been a downright massacre… 

“I trusted him…” Ryan spat. “I trusted them. They were… they were like family. And now they feel like complete strangers.” Ryan released his painful grip around the ring, opening his hand to reveal the Hackett’s crest engraved into his skin, mocking him. “I used to look at this crest and feel… so much awe. There was something so cool about their long lineage, and the history that came with it. Now I look at it, and I… I just feel so… so angry. This crest, this ring, this camp, the quarry, the Hackett family… It’s all built on goddamn lies.”

“Not everything,” Dylan says softly. He reaches out for the ring, taking it out of Ryan’s hand and placing it on the ground next to him. Then he grabs hold of Ryan’s hand, pulling it towards him. “The memories that we made here, and the… the bonds that were formed? That’s all real.”

Ryan’s breath hitches as Dylan gently rubs his thumb over the mark in his skin, soothing the irritated skin. “At least… It felt pretty real to me,” Dylan adds.

Ryan looked at Dylan, that something unidentifiable growing in his chest once again. Dylan wasn’t looking back at him, but rather looking at their hands, every light brush of his thumb against Ryan’s hands sending Ryan’s pulse racing. 

“It felt real to me, too.”

“Hey, I have an idea--” Dylan said so abruptly that it caught Ryan off guard. Dylan pulled his hand away from Ryan’s, grabbing the ring from the ground. “Looking at the ring makes you think of the Hackett’s right?” 

“Uh… Sure?” Ryan answers, suffering some minor conversational whiplash. 

“And obviously, thinking about them makes you upset.”

“...Yeah…”

“I think I’ve got a pretty good solution,” Dylan says. He pushes himself up so he’s standing, ring in hand, and Ryan only has a split second to realize what Dylan was about to do before he does it. Which means all he can get out is a “Wait, Dylan--” before Dylan has launched the ring… somewhere within the lodge. Ryan watches it go sailing into the darkness, Dylan wiping his hands together in a job well done.

“There. Ring’s gone.” Dylan heads back over to Ryan, dropping down next to him and retaking his previous seat. He turns his smiling face to Ryan, not quite expecting the blank stare he receives in return. His smile wavers somewhat, confidence in his plan diminishing. “I’m… sensing you didn’t want me to do that.”

“No.”

“Oh shit, was it… Did that hold more sentimental value than I thought it did?”

“No.”

“Oh. Then, why…” Dylan glances over in the general direction of where he had chucked the ring. Then, it clicks. He slowly turns his head back to Ryan, back to his blank face. “Wait, was that… was the ring made of silver?”

“I’m not sure. But I thought it’d be a good idea to keep hold of it just in case. Since we don’t have any silver.”

“Oh…” Dylan squeaks, eyes wide as the reality of his fuck up begins to sink in. Ryan couldn’t even find it in himself to be pissed, especially when Dylan looks right at him, half a wince on his face, and sheepishly goes. “Oops?”

Maybe it’s because it’s so late — or so early in the morning. Maybe it’s because of the stress that’s slowly been eating away at him over the past night. Or maybe because it’s just because it’s Dylan. But Ryan can only hold his apologetic gaze for a few seconds more, and then he cracks. The laughter that rips out of him takes Dylan by surprise —and takes him by surprise if he’s being honest. It’s the hardest he’s laughed in… He doesn’t even know. A long time. Too long. But then Dylan’s laughing too, likely set off by Ryan’s laughter, and that in turn just makes Ryan laugh even more. 

It couldn’t even be called laughter at this point. No, they were both downright giggling. Ryan’s sore ribs ache with every shaking exhale of laughter, but he quickly decided the pain was worth it. 

Eventually, their laughter begins to subside, tapering off until they’re both just smiling at each other in the dark of the lodge, Dylan’s warm gaze locked on his, and--

Oh. 

Ryan knew what that feeling was now.

He wanted to kiss Dylan. 

Ever since that moment by the fire, it had been there. Building and building as the night went on, as more time passed in Dylan’s company. With every word exchanged and every smile shared, it had been there in waiting. That’s what this was. It was longing. No, he didn’t just want to kiss Dylan. He wanted Dylan, full stop. Every fiber of his being yearned for him in a way that almost seemed to burn him from the inside out. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Somehow, Dylan’s gaze becomes warmer at Ryan’s request, eyes softening around the edges. Ryan could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, eyes rapidly scanning across Ryan’s face as if to make sure this was some weird form of humor from Ryan. Dylan opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t trust his voice to get any intelligible words out. There was probably a joke in there, no doubt. 

But then Dylan gives a subtle nod of his head, and that’s all Ryan needs. His hand comes up to caress Dylan’s chin, tilting his head slightly for a better angle as they lean towards each other. There’s a moment of hesitation where their lips are a hair’s breadth away, Dylan’s breath washing over his lips, both waiting to see if the other would change their minds and pull away. 

The hesitation doesn’t last. 

Ryan couldn’t tell you which one of them closed the gap. It was both of them, for all he knew. Both of them remove that last little piece of space, and then Dylan’s lips are on his, and it’s the sweetest craving he’s ever indulged in. It was a craving that had been set off by that game of ‘Truth Or Dare’. But this kiss was not like that one. There, surrounded by the excited cheers of his fellow friends and counselors — and their leering gazes — it had to be kept chaste. Past the bitterness of beer on each of their mouths, Ryan had only gotten a taste of Dylan buried underneath before he was pulling away, leaving Ryan with a tingling across his lips and a desire for more that he wouldn’t recognize until hours later. 

Now, it was just them. No counselors. No ‘game’ being the reason for this. Ryan was kissing Dylan because he wanted to and, given the alluring press of Dylan’s mouth against his, he could only assume that Dylan wanted to, too.

Somewhere out in the distance, deep into the woods, a lone howl echoes between the trees. It’s far enough in the distance that they don’t have to worry about it yet, but loud enough that it pulls them apart. Ryan’s hand drops away from Dylan’s face, both of them turning towards the large windows behind them at the sound of the howl. 

“Sounds like he un-squished himself from the car…” Dylan notes.

“Seems like it…” Ryan quietly agrees. He reaches into his pocket, and then stops, glancing up at Dylan. “Do you trust me?”

“Ryan, I need you to realize how weird of a question that is to ask someone after you’ve kissed them,” Dylan answers, a little alarmed by where this was all going. “But yeah, of course I do. A hundred percent.”

“Good.” Ryan pulls out a small vial from his pocket, the dark liquid inside staining the sides of the glass container red. There’s a small cork jammed into the opening, which Ryan yanks out with a ‘pop’. 

“Hey… I’ve seen that somewhere before…” Dylan says, head tilted to the side as he regards the strange item. “Back in the, uh… in the tree, by the radio hut. I mean, that one was empty, but it looks the same, and--” Dylan pauses, face scrunching up in disgust as a particularly pungent smell wafts over from the newly opened bottle. “Yep, smells about the same too…”

Ryan cups his hand into a bowl shape, pouring a small amount of the foul-smelling liquid into his palm. He dips his fingers into it, coating them with red, and looks up at Dylan. “I should warn you, this is gonna be pretty gross… You might want to close your eyes.”

“Um… okay…?” Dylan does as he’s told, eyes falling shut at Ryan’s… suggestion? Command? Either one worked, he guessed. Ryan reaches his hand forward, the first gentle brush of his fingers against Dylan’s cheek making Dylan flinch, not yet expecting the touch. He soon relaxes as Ryan continues to wipe the contents of the vial around his face. Though, that’s not to say he doesn’t have to fight hard not to gag as the repulsive smell gets stronger and stronger with every fresh layer applied. 

“Is it weird I have this urge to sing that song from ‘The Lion King’?” Dylan mumbles, peeking an eye open to watch Ryan as he slowly drags a thumb over Dylan’s forehead, leaving a trail of red in his wake. “Caaaaaannnnnn You Feeeeeeellll The Loooovvvvee Toniiiiiight…”

Ryan’s shoulders and arms shake with restrained laughter at Dylan’s crowing, coming alarmingly close to poking Dylan in the eye. “Wrong song, dude.”

“Pfft, you don’t think I know that?” Dylan counters. “It’s just that I’m physically incapable of singing ‘The Circle Of Life’ without belting it, and I get a feeling that might attract some unwanted attention, so…”

“Good call.” Ryan finishes the last of his ‘artwork’, pulling his hands away from Dylan’s face to get a better look. Nearly the entirety of Dylan’s face had been coated — which wasn’t too hard given his face had already been covered in specks of his own and Nick’s blood. But… that type of blood wasn’t what would help him. The vial that would help him had been emptied and laid discarded by Ryan’s side.

“As much as I love a man of mystery, that did very much feel like a ritual of some sort, and I’m kinda worried you’ve just inducted me into some sort of cult. Oh my God, I’m in a cult, aren’t I… Is that what tonight’s been? Like a test? Holy fu-- This was like a hazing or an initiation, wasn’t it?”

“No, dude. Jesus…” Ryan wipes his hand across his jeans, doing his best to clean away the remnants of blood sticking to his hands. Then, he leans to the side to dig his hand back into his jeans pocket, pulling out a piece of paper that had been torn from a notebook and folded neatly into a compact square. 

“I found this note with the ring. Whoever dropped the ring dropped most of the contents of his pockets with it, I guess.”

Dylan’s eyes flickered between the piece of paper and Ryan. “Okay… And that’s connected to you smearing some disgusting ass stuff on my face because…?”

“It’s from Chris, to one of his brothers. He was asking them to stop leaving vials of werewolf blood near the camp.”

“Werewolf blood…?” Dylan’s furrowed brow smoothed out as he made the connection, eyes widening in horror. “Ryan… Please tell me you didn’t cover my face in werewolf blood…”

“I did.”

“Why?! And -- where did you even get werewolf blood from?!”

“The hunter dude that was trying to drag Nick away after he got attacked dropped it when I shot him. I just sort of pocketed it, but I forgot I had it until I found this letter. And in the letter, it… Chris wrote that ‘he knows they need it to cover their scent, but he’d appreciate it if they started storing it further out into the woods and away from camp, since it was only a matter of time before a curious kid or a nosy counselor found one of them and started asking questions they wouldn’t have answers to.' ” 

Ryan handed the letter over to Dylan, letting him have a read-over for himself. Dylan gave the words a quick glance, finding mostly what Ryan had said. “…Cover their scent? What does that even mean? Like it’s some camouflage against…?” Dylan trailed off, looking at Ryan over the top of the paper. 

“Yeah… Seems like if you’re covered in their blood, they don’t sense you or something. Explains why they poured blood over Jacob now.”

“Shit, Ryan, you- you should have used that for yourself!” Dylan spluttered. “Why… Why didn’t you tell me? If you found the letter and knew that’s what it does, why did you--?”

“Because if I told you what it was, then you would have refused it,” Ryan answers calmly. “You would be doing what you’re doing now, which is to insist that I use it.”

“Uh… yeah. You’re damn right I would,” Dylan said, looking and sounding understandably pissed.

“Exactly. So I didn’t tell you. Look, I have the gun, okay?” Ryan says, patting the gun in his lap. “I have my own form of protection. You don’t have anything. I had to do something to keep you safe.”

Dylan sighed, bringing up his last remaining hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, eyes scrunched tight. “Dammit, Ryan… How the hell do you manage to piss me off and make me like you more? I mean, objectively I understand that you just did a very selfless thing that could potentially save my life. But on the other hand, if you die, I will kill you.”

“Uh…?” Ryan raised a finger.

“I know,” Dylan snapped. “I’ll find a way…”

Ryan chuckled softly, craning his arm at a somewhat awkward angle to place a hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, Dylan. We’re gonna make it out of this, alright?”

Dylan nodded, though his eyes didn’t quite hold the same confidence. Ryan’s hand slid from his shoulder, grabbing hold of the barrel of the shotgun while the other reached behind him to press against the wall, helping to push himself up so he was standing. Dylan’s eyes followed him, brow dipped at why Ryan had decided to stand. 

“You should… probably start moving,” Ryan says, holding out a hand to help Dylan up. 

“...Start moving where?” Dylan takes his hand, getting up to his feet with Ryan’s help.

“You remember the trap door in… in Chris’s office?” Ryan asks. “It lead down to the basement, right? Into the storm shelter? You can stay down there with Abi and Emma while--”

“Stop right there,” Dylan interjected. “I see where this is going, and I don’t like it.”

Ryan took a hand off the shotgun to throw up in the air. “What? What’s not to like?”

“That you’re doing this again! It shouldn’t be ‘you can stay down there’, it should be ‘we can stay down there’. You can’t expect me to go down there and hide while you’re out here risking your life!”

“Someone has to stay up here and defend the place, Dylan! And it’s not going to be you. Not in your condition. Best thing for you is to get someplace safe until this is all over.”

Dylan flinched back as if Ryan had actually struck him, shaking his head in disbelief at what he’d just heard. “Seriously? Have I… Have I not proven myself useful at all tonight? Is that really how you see me? Like I’m… Like I’m weak? Like I’m someone who needs to be saved--”

“No! That’s… that’s not what this is, Dylan--” Ryan tries to defend himself, but to no avail.

“--Because I think I proved myself perfectly fucking capable when I saved your goddam life back at the scrapyard--”

“Yes, you did! I’m just saying--”

“And I said I didn’t want the pity! Especially not from you!”

“This isn’t pity--”

“Then what the hell is it if not--”

“This is me fucking scared, okay?” Ryan reaches his boiling point, words coming out a bit louder than he intended. “Because maybe I’m scared of losing you too!”

Any anger Dylan felt washed away at Ryan’s confession. And despite Ryan being able to see the fight physically drain away from Dylan’s expression, he continued on, still clinging onto his own anger — or more accurately, his own fear, displaying itself in a different way. “Because the thought of you dead, when I could have done something to prevent it? It would break me. I would blame myself every damn day after. So yeah, excuse me for wanting to keep you safe, but I can’t lose you.”

Ryan's chest heaved with each harsh breath, every muscle in his body coiled up and tense. There was still fire burning in his eyes as he stared at Dylan, but he doesn't find any of it looking back at him. There was still some irritation lingering there, but for the most part, there was understanding. 

"You're going to kiss me again, aren't you?" Dylan breaks the tension.

"Yes," Ryan says, storming towards Dylan with perhaps the most conviction Dylan’s seen or heard from him tonight. Ryan has to reach up, curling a hand around the back of Dylan’s neck to pull him down. A bolt of lightning meets the ground the same time their lips meet, and Dylan would blame the crash of thunder that comes with it for the way his heart jumps in his chest. 

This kiss… definitely wasn’t like the one by the fire, or the one that came just before. This one was desperate. Needy — Ryan’s lips speaking more of his truth than just his words could. Dylan’s hands — hand and a stub — had drifted up to rest on Ryan’s waist, the fingers of his left hand curled into Ryan’s shirt, fingertips lightly grazing across his hip. The shotgun in Ryan’s hand was now held loosely by his side, pointed down to the ground, and if they were not in such a dire situation, he would wish nothing more than to be rid of the thing and use his hand for other purposes. 

Eventually, they have to break away for air. Though apparently they can’t keep too far away from each other as Ryan rests his forehead against Dylan’s, seemingly not bothered about the blood coating Dylan’s face. 

“If that’s how you feel?” Dylan breaks the silence, his grip on Ryan’s waist tightening. “Then you know exactly why I can’t leave you behind, either.”

Ryan dipped his head, pulling away from Dylan with a slow nod. “Yeah… Yeah, I know. Just… If anything happens… Stay close to me, okay?”

Dylan smiled. “Like you even have to ask.”

The howl that rang out quickly wiped the smile off both their faces. That howl did not sound far away. In fact, it sounded like it was right on their doorsteps. Dylan and Ryan look over to the windows of the lodge, finding nothing but darkness there. No more lightning. No more rain. 

No more protection. 

Nothing stopping the wolves from attacking. 

“Alright…” Ryan releases the latch of the shotgun, double checking there’s a shell loaded. He snaps the front end of the shotgun back into place with a satisfying ‘click’, determined eyes focusing on Dylan. 

“Let’s get this over with.”

#dylan/ryan #ryan x dylan #dylan x ryan #radioheads #the quarry #the quarry game #the quarry spoilers #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler

[chipper9906]

I am... Being called out...

#the quarry #the quarry game #ryan erzahler #dylan lenivy #radioheads #drylan #dylan/ryan #ryan x dylan #do i have a problem? #i think i have a problem

[chipper9906]

This One’s For You...

Pairings: Dylan Lenivy/Ryan Erzahler

Word Count: 2,571

Status: One Shot - Complete

Summary:

This was it. His moment. The ball leaves his hands, and…

You ever manage to fuck something up so bad that you couldn’t even replicate the fuck up if you tried? Well… this was one of those moments.

In his mind's eye, the ball floats gloriously through the air, curving up and then dropping down perfectly through the hoop. The net swishes as the kids erupt into cheers, and Dylan can be rest assured this his ‘cool points’ with the kids — and with Ryan — will forever be at the highest they can be.

In reality, the ball leaves his hands and beams Jacob right in the face.

* * *

A short and dumb fic I wrote based on this tumblr post that absolutely cracked me the fuck up

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Try to picture the scene: It’s summer, middle of July, and the sun is beginning to set on what was a perfectly normal day at Hackett’s Quarry Summer Camp. There’s an impromptu basketball game going on set up by one Jacob Custos, who had dragged out the old basketball hoops from storage and set up a makeshift court for the kids to get a game in before dinner time.

Now, if you were asked to write a list of counselors most suitable for watching over said game, you’d probably put Dylan Lenivy somewhere on the bottom of that list, right?

Well, you’d be wrong.

He wouldn’t even make the list. 

Dylan and sports? Yeah, they just didn’t work together. Last time he played any sort of sports was when his dad signed him up for little league baseball so they’d have a hobby they can share. First pitch, he managed to throw the ball backward. First swing, the bat slipped out of his hands and knocked out little Jamie’s tooth who, to be fair, should not have been standing so close to the foul line. It was a baby tooth anyway, so it was fine. After that they sort of just left him on outfield. Like, as far out to field as an outfield can get. He’s talking “far enough to the point where a MAJOR league player would struggle to reach.”

He made some pretty rad daisy chains while out there though. 

So why he was currently here acting as a sort of referee to the game, he had no clue. He barely knows the rules of basketball if he’s being honest. Not that it really matters. This is a summer camp, not an NBA training camp. Fun’s all that matters, right? He’s just gotta make sure none of the kids are like, elbowing someone in the face or tripping each other over. Or traveling. He knows that, at least. 

“You look bored.”

Dylan startled at the voice from next to him, looking to see Ryan had appeared from nowhere. Dude could be sneaky when he wanted to be. One second you’re wondering where the guy is, then BAM, he’s just there. 

“Plus one for observational skills,” Dylan says, unable to stop the smile stretching across his face at Ryan’s unexpected appearance. 

“Nothing exciting happen, I take it?”

“Oh, well I wouldn’t say that,” Dylan said, returning his attention to the game. “Nick had to break up a fight between Aidan and Rickie who, apparently, both have a crush on Debbie over there. Aidan was trying to show off with a… I don’t know what it’s called, but Rickie checked the hell out of him and Aidan didn’t care much for it.”

Ryan hummed, crossing his arms across his chest as he glanced at Dylan out of the corner of his eye. “Nothing quite like kid drama.”

“Telling ya’ man, emotions are a bi-- uh, a pain at that age. You remember what it’s like being that age, right? Awful.”

“You say that like emotions don’t still kinda suck at our age,” Ryan points out. “Sometimes I’ll look at Jacob and Nick interact and see two full-grown adults, and other times it’s like we have two extra campers messing around who got hit hard by puberty.”

Dylan snorted, perhaps not paying as much attention to the game as he should be now Ryan was here. “Oh, yeah, and Molly tripped over and skinned her knee up pretty bad. Abi and Kaitlyn took her back to the lodge for Nurse Kelly to take a look over her if you were wondering where they were.”

Ryan grunted in acknowledgment, scanning across the court. Jacob was running up and down the ‘sideline’, whistle hanging loose around his neck and coming dangerously close to smacking him in the teeth with every over-excited bound he makes. Nick was… not as enthusiastic as Jacob, but was still dutifully watching over the kids just as Dylan was from the other side of the court 

“What about Emma?” Ryan asks, realizing who was missing.

“Off duty,” Dylan answered. He turns himself to face Ryan, head titled to the side as a thought pops into his head. “Speaking of… Aren’t you supposed to be off duty, too?”

“I am,” Ryan answers. 

Dylan raises an eyebrow at him, waiting for an elaboration from Ryan that doesn’t come. “So… You’re here because…?”

Ryan just shrugged, no longer able to meet Dylan’s eye. “I dunno. I was bored. You looked bored. Thought it’d be nice to come over and talk with you.”

“Oh. Cool.” A flush of red quickly spread across Dylan’s face, which he did his best to hide by turning away from Ryan to face the game. If Ryan noticed anything, he didn’t mention it. 

“I kind of half expect to hear you commentating on the game or something over the speakers,” Ryan says, gesturing with a nod of his head to one of said speakers sitting atop its pole nearby. 

“Kinda hard to do that from the radio hut. That’s, like… not here. In a place where I can’t see what’s happening.”

Dylan almost got a smirk out of Ryan. Almost. “Eh… I’m sure you can make it work.”

“That’s probably true,” Dylan conceded. “I mean… it’s basketball. Children’s basketball. Pretty sure I could say a hundred different variations of ‘X Person has ball. X person is attempting to score. X person got the ball in the net. X person has scored!’ and they’d all apply, even when I can’t see.”

“Congratulations, you just over-simplified nearly all sports.”

"I mean... It's not my fault most sports are the same and boring as hell."

"Well... I wouldn't say most sports."

"Oh, uh- no, yeah, you're right," Dylan quickly backpedaled. "I mean… I’ve heard from someone that sailing’s pretty entertaining…”

“Is that your way of telling me to stop talking about sailing?”

Oops. That backfired. “What? No! No, I’m just saying, you always look like you’re having such a good time when you’re out there on the water, I--”

“You’ve watched me sail?”

Uh oh. Backfired again. “Uh… Yeah, I…” Alright, how does he say this without coming off like a stalker? “You know, I am in charge of scheduling and all that, and after I scheduled your first lesson with the kiddos I realized I’d never actually seen you do your… thing.” Was that stalkerish? It didn’t sound too stalkerish. “I’m actually kinda surprised I got to see it at all, given how weird Mr. H has been about any of us going in the water.”

“Safety hazard, I guess,” Ryan suggested with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“I guess that’s true. It was… super impressive, actually; seeing you out there, somehow managing to keep a group of rowdy kids entertained and also make sure they’re not getting themselves hurt.”

“You mean… like you are now?” Ryan asked, gesturing to the game he was supposed to be watching. 

“Yeah, but… you’re doing it on water.”

“Okay, but--”

“Just accept the compliment, Ryan.”

Ryan huffed, giving Dylan one of those smiles that’s more in the eyes than with the mouth. “Fine. Compliment accepted.”

“Sweet. Got plenty more of those, if you’re interested.” Dylan shot Ryan a wink, and the double take Ryan gave him for it was truly glorious. “Or at least… I can think up a ton more to keep me entertained while we’re here, watching… sports.” 

Ryan shook his head at the amount of disdain in Dylan’s voice for that last word. “Thought you were coming round to the ‘not all sport is boring’ thing?”

“Oh, I am. But still, you gotta admit this isn't exactly the most riveting of spectacles. At least... Not enough to spend your precious free time watching it, anyway."

"The game? No," Ryan agrees. He shifts slightly in place, enough that his arm brushes across Dylan's, and it's a little embarrassing the way Dylan's breath catches at the feeling of Ryan's fingers lightly catching his own. "The company makes up for it, though."

Dylan's so busy staring at Ryan that he doesn't notice the ball had gone out of play. At least, he doesn't notice until he feels the ball bounce right into his leg. He regretfully has to look away from Ryan and down to the offending object, plucking it up from the ground and looking around for whichever kid he was supposed to pass it to for a throw-in.

But instead, he's greeted by one of the kids on the court cheerfully yelling "Go for it, Mr. Dylan!", enthusiastically jumping and pointing to the hoop. 

“Oh, I don’t think that’s--” Dylan tries to shoot down the idea. But of course, now that one of the kids had suggested it, all the others quickly jump on board. 

“Yeah!”

“You can do it!”

“Throw it!”

“I think you’ve gotta throw it.” Ryan not at all helpfully gives Dylan an ‘encouraging’ push towards the court. “Unless you wanna upset all your fans, that is…”

“Yeah, ‘Mr. Dylan’,” Jacob grins at him from the other end of the court. He was now leaning against the pole holding up the hoop, one arm crossed across his chest whilst the other points up at the hoop above his head. “Show us your skills!”

“Fine, fine…” Dylan grips the ball tight with both hands, stepping onto the court. He’s welcomed by the triumphant cheers of the kids, who ‘part the sea’ so to speak for him to get within shooting range. 

“Dude, it’s a real shame Mr. H took our phones from us,” Jacob says to Nick, who had appeared by his side — mostly to get a better view of what was about to unfold. “This really seems like a moment we want on video.”

“I assume you mean to record our dear friend Dylan here in his triumphant moment for us to treasure years down the line?” Nick asked.

“Oh, I was thinking more that Emma would love to upload this to her channel. I can already see the title: Watch this grown adult miss a shot made by a ten-year-old moments ago.”

“Just you watch, Jakey-boy. You’re gonna eat your words,” Dylan shot back. 

“Dy-Lan! Dy-Lan! Dy-Lan! Dy-Lan!” The kids had started a chant of his name which, while encouraging, was also all kinds of distracting. It also didn’t help to lessen the pressure when he had a bunch of expectant and excited-looking faces looking up at him. 

Dylan then makes it all the more worse for himself by looking over to Ryan, and his heart stutters in his chest for a moment at the realization that Ryan had joined in with the kid's chants, deep voice booming over the rest.

Dylan glanced up at the hoop, taking in a deep breath. Alright… How hard could this be? Just get the ball through the hoop, right? And given that he was marginally taller than the other kids who had been making these shots, then he should have no problems. Easy peasy. 

He looks over to Ryan again, taking a hand off the ball to point directly at him. 

“This one’s for you.”

It’s enough to bring out one of those rare smiles from Ryan that Dylan spends pretty much every moment he has in Ryan’s presence trying to pry out of him. Dylan shoots him another wink, then returns his focus to the task at hand. He keeps his eye solely on the hoop, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. This was it. His moment. The ball leaves his hands, and…

You ever manage to fuck something up so bad that you couldn’t even replicate the fuck up if you tried? Well… this was one of those moments. 

In his mind's eye, the ball floats gloriously through the air, curving up and then dropping down perfectly through the hoop. The net swishes as the kids erupt into cheers, and Dylan can be rest assured this his ‘cool points’ with the kids — and with Ryan — will forever be at the highest they can be. 

In reality, the ball leaves his hands and beams Jacob right in the face.

“OW!” Jacob’s head snaps back at the impact, a resounding sounding ‘thump’ echoing across the court. “Son of a-- bee sting.”

The kids, being kids, erupt into laughter. Poor Jacob was bent over himself, hand held to his sore nose as he tried to breathe through the pain. Nick would blame it on the contagiousness of the kid's laughter that he was laughing too, giving Jacob a few consolatory pats on his back. “Damn, you were right. That really was a moment we should have got on video.”

But Dylan wasn’t focusing on Nick’s laughter. Nor was he focusing on Jacob’s rapidly swelling nose, which he really should be. But in his defense, there was something a little more distracting going on that made it hard to focus on anything else. 

Ryan Erzhaler… was laughing. 

And this wasn’t just a quick snort. No, Ryan was absolutely losing it on the side of the court, arms wrapped around his stomach as he damn nearly choked on his laughter. Dylan could count on one hand the number of times he’s heard Ryan laugh, but he had never heard him laugh like this. Not a full-on belly laugh - that kind of one that makes it hard to breathe. It made it kind of hard for Dylan to breathe, the sound of it making something warm and fuzzy settle in his chest. 

“Sorry, dude…” Dylan sheepishly apologized to Jacob. Though, the smile on his face and in his voice didn’t give the apology much merit. “I promise that was an accident.”

“You got a friggen cannon for an arm, man,” Jacob complained-slash-complimented, straightening himself back up. He pulls his hand away from his nose but, thankfully, there’s no blood. “Oh, and — real mature, Erzhaler. You just keep laughing!”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s -- it’s not funny,” Ryan lies, finally managing to get his laughter under control. 

“Alright, alright, stop laughing you little gremlins,” Jacob grumbled to the giggling kids. “We got a game to finish!”

Dylan scurried back over to Ryan’s side, half wincing-half smiling at him as he got close. They watched as Jacob attempted to wrangle the kids back up, trying to resume the game. “So, uh… when do I get to play with the pros?”

That earned Dylan another laugh, much to his delight. “I know I’d sign you to a contract.”

“Oh yeah?” Dylan challenged. “How are you planning on paying me for my tremendous skill?”

“Hmm… I dunno. What do you want?”

‘You’ is what very nearly slips out of Dylan’s mouth, but he manages to catch himself in time. Although, what he actually says isn’t all that better. “You keep giving me some of that adorable laughter of yours, and I’ll sign right on the dotted line.”

Turns out, he didn’t need to be worried. He doesn’t get another one of those mentioned adorable laughs, but Ryan does stick his hand out to him, the smallest of smirks pulling at the corner of his lips. “Deal?”

Dylan smiles warmly back at him, reaching out a hand and clasping onto Ryan’s. He gives it a firm shake, the two of them holding onto each other's hands and each other's gaze a bit longer than you typically would. 

“Deal.”

Okay, so…

Maybe sports aren’t as boring as he thought…

#dylan/ryan #dylan x ryan #ryan x dylan #radioheads #drylan #rylan #The Quarry #the quarry game #oneshot #fluff #pre-canon #this was so dumb i'm so sorry #but i just had to get it out

[chipper9906]

Switch - Chapter 2

Pairings: Dylan Lenivy/Ryan Erzahler

Chapter Word Count: 9,489

Overall Word Count: 22,004

Status: Multi-Chapter - In Progress (2/?)

Chapter Preview:

“No, he’s not my type, man,” Dylan says, words littered with laughter at the exasperation in Ryan’s voice. The joking manner he so easily slips into fades away as his eye catches Ryan’s, seeing something there he doesn’t usually see. Ryan was typically a very serious dude, but there was something there, something so… open. Enough so that Dylan felt he should at least have the decency to return Ryan’s seriousness in the situation.

“I, uh... I think you know what my ‘type’ is…”

Ryan’s lips almost flickered into a smile. “Yeah, I... I think I do."

There's a pause, the air between them filled with that kind of tension where it feels like something is going to snap. And then, Ryan says with a glint in his eyes, "It's Nick, right?"

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2:40 | AUGUST 23 — KAITLYN

HACKETT FAMILY HOUSE

 Kaitlyn was going to die. 

She was going to die, and it wasn’t even going to be due to a werewolf — you know, the thing that’s been the major threat to them the whole night. No, instead her death is going to come at the hands of a Hackett, collapsed on the ground with a stupid fucking knife in her side. 

Said Hackett had just thrown open the door she had closed literal seconds ago, and Kaitlyn’s not sure if the groan she lets out is of pain or, or annoyance. It was bad enough the dude stabbed her, but did he seriously have to chase her room to room and then find her moments after she’d thought she had shaken him off her tail?

Well… As the asshole had said: It was his house. 

Kaitlyn scoots away from him, a grimace stretched across her face with every pained movement. Bobby doesn’t react to her pain in the slightest, just continues on his menacing path toward her. “Get…” Kaitlyn pants, a fresh wave of pain washing over her as her hand catches the knife. “The hell… away from me…”

“Can’t do, little missy,” Bobby drawls, standing over her. “I’ve got orders. I’ve gotta follow my orders.”

“Why?”

That actually seems to stump Bobby a little. “…Coz they’re orders… They’re meant to be followed.”

“Yeah? Including the ones where you murder a bunch of counselors?”

“If it comes to it. You killed my niece. You killed my ma. So if pa says you gotta go? You gotta go.” Bobby’s eyes drop down to where Kaitlyn is holding a hand to her side, a deep frown etching into his face. “And you took my knife!”

Bobby bends down, reaching towards her, and oh -- hell no. She wasn’t going out like this. Not without a fight. Kaitlyn grabs the handle of the knife and yanks it out of herself with one big pull. The pain is blinding, crippling even, serrated edges doing a lot more damage pulling the knife out compared to it going in. She doesn’t even give Bobby a chance to be confused by what she was doing before swinging her arm forward, burying the knife into his exposed chest. 

“OW!” Bobby jumps back, mouth agape as his head whips between Kaitlyn and the knife sticking out of him. “You stabbed me!”

“Yeah — didn’t expect ‘little missy’ to give you a taste of your own fucking medicine, did you?” Kaitlyn spat. 

“I’ve never been stabbed before…” Bobby holds a hand over the knife. “Ow, this… really hurts…” Bobby turns away from her like he had completely forgotten she was even there, storming out of the door they had come in from. “DAAAAD!”

Kaitlyn would take the time to ponder over just how weird that whole interaction was if she wasn’t busy trying to slow her own blood spilling from her body. She’s got a hand pressed as tightly as she can against the wound, but there’s an alarming out of blood pouring out anyway, spilling past her clenched fingers. If she took her hand away, it’d probably be spurting out blood… Which means the knife must have hit an artery. 

Which means… nothing good. 

Something heavy hits the ground next to her. Kaitlyn nearly loosens her hold against her side as she startles, looking over to see it was Laura. Her eyes were a deep gold, skin so pale that the black streaks climbing up her face made it look like her skin was cracking apart. Her teeth were bared, quiet growl rumbling from her chest, and oh no — this wasn’t entirely Laura…

“...Laura?”

Those golden eyes lock in on her, and her growl increases in volume. Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, holding out a hand as if that was going to stop werewolf Laura from ripping her apart… “Laura, wait! It’s me! Kaitlyn! Not werewolf food!”

The fog of aggression fades from Laura’s eyes, snarl slipping off her face and being replaced with shock as Laura — the true Laura — takes in the sight of Kaitlyn, curled up on the floor, laying in a pool of her own blood. 

“Kaitlyn…?” She murmurs, looking down at Kaitlyn in horror. “Oh my god…” She rushes to Kaitlyn’s side, dropping down with hands outstretched, wanting to help but with no idea as to how. “What… What happened to you?”

“Big guy… Big knife...” Kaitlyn curls in on herself with a groan. “You can probably fill in the blanks…”

Kaitlyn pulls her hand away from her side for a moment, instantly regretting it when a terrifying amount of blood gushes out. Her hand snaps back into place, but she knows it won’t do much. At this point, she was just delaying the inevitable… 

“It’s okay… You’re… You’re gonna be okay,” Laura rambles.

Kaitlyn chuckles dryly, craning her head up to look at Laura. “You were supposed to work with Nurse Kelly back at camp, right?”

“Um… Yeah?”

“Right… and I had to take over your shifts. First aid responsibilities and all that. So I think we both know that this—” Kaitlyn looked pointedly to the puddle of blood she was laying in. “—Isn’t something that can just be stitched up.”

Laura’s face falls. “I…”

“--Was just trying to make me feel better. I know,” Kaitlyn says, managing a small smile. “I appreciate that. It’s just… not the truth, is it?”

“It’s… It’s a lot of blood,” Laura states the obvious. “Shit… I’m so sorry, Kaitlyn. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have let you come along, that was—”

“Not your decision to make, remember?” Kaitlyn states firmly. “And this is not your fault. That lies solely on the big asshole that ran out of here crying for his daddy…”

“...What?”

“I might have stabbed him,” Kaitlyn admits. “He did stab me first, though. Only fair.”

Laura’s mouth flickers like she’s about to laugh, but nothing comes out. Not even a smile. It was too difficult to muster either right about now. 

Kaitlyn’s hands had begun to tremble as the effects of blood loss take hold. It felt like the rate at which she was losing blood was slowing down — but that was far from a good thing. The blood against her hands felt warm in comparison to her cold skin, and all she wanted to do was lay down and drift off to sleep, even though she knows full well that that was the last thing she should do. She was… she was dying. 

“Hey, so, uh… Promise you won’t think less of me for this, but uh…” Kaitlyn trails off, eyes scrunched close. “I’m… I’m scared. I’m… really fucking scared.”

Laura doesn’t trust herself to say anything. She reaches out a hand, gently taking hold of Kaitlyn’s. Laura might not have any words of comfort, but she hopes the small squeeze she gives Kaitlyn’s hand provides what her words would not. 

“When this whole shitty night began, I hoped that if I did die, it would at least be quick.” Kaitlyn’s grip on Laura’s hand is too lax for Laura’s liking. “Not just because there’d be less pain. Well, partly that; this does hurt.” Kaitlyn gives a weak laugh, regretting it instantly when the pain flares. “Least if you die quick, you don’t have time to think about it… Worry about… About what’s next. If there is something, or… eternal darkness.”

Laura’s fingers tighten their grip around Kaitlyn’s. Kaitlyn glances up at her, to her eyes — plural — and huffs at the thought that crosses her mind. “Could really use some of that werewolf healing of yours…”

There’s only a few seconds of silence after Kaitlyn’s statement before they both realize. Hope surges through Kaitlyn, snapping away some of the dreariness that had been threatening to drag her down. She doesn’t even have to convey the idea to Laura, recognizing that same light of hope shining in the other girl's eyes.

“Holy Shit…” Laura says with a laugh of disbelief. “Werewolf healing… Never thought I’d be glad to pass on this curse to someone else…”

“Will it even work?” Kaitlyn asks. “Given you’re… not a wolf right now?”

“I don’t see why not. I’m still infected while I’m… me, I guess. But, uh… I’m not gonna be ‘me’ for long, Kaitlyn. I can feel it, even now. Just under my skin, this… this thing trying to get out. I don’t have much time left. If I… If I bite you, and it works… You’ll heal, but…”

“I’ll be on a timer, too.”

“More than me, at least,” Laura said. “But that also means that… It’ll be up to you. If… If I turn, it’ll be up to you to find Chris Hackett before time is up. And unless you wanna be stuck with this curse too--”

“Then I’ll have to do something that’ll really piss Ryan off…” Kaitlyn muttered.

“Uh… Yeah, if that’s what you wanna worry about right now…” Laura leans back, resting her hands on her legs.

“Eh, my chances with him flew out the window the moment he heard Dylan call him ‘brooding, mysterious and alluring.’ ” Kaitlyn joked — by which she means, told the truth, but in a joking manner. “So… I can either bleed out and die… Or let you bite me, hope it works and heals me, then go find and kill my former boss who lied to us and nearly got us all killed?”

“Yep.”

Kaitlyn uses the last of her energy to hold up her arm to Laura. “Not much of a choice, is it?”

“Nope,” Laura easily agrees, sliding her grip down from Kaitlyn’s hand to her arm. “Especially since I’ll be turning soon, and then you won’t get a say in the matter anyway…”

“That too.”

The corner of Laura’s lips curl up, huffing softly as she curls her fingers around Kaitlyn’s wrist. She eyes the expanse of skin in her hands, swallowing harshly. “This, uh… This might hurt a little.”

Kaitlyn snorts. “More than being stabbed?”

“You’d be surprised…” Laura brings Kaitlyn’s arm up closer to her mouth. She pauses, looking over to Kaitlyn. “You sure about this?”

“Nope,” Kaitlyn says, then follows with, “So let’s get this over with me and bite me before I change my mind.”

Laura follows the command, pulling Kaitlyn’s arm towards her, teeth sinking into the soft flesh. It doesn’t take much force for the skin to be punctured, taste of iron quickly flooding over Laura’s tongue. Kaitlyn hisses in pain, instinctively trying to pull her hand away from Laura, whose grip only tightened to keep her in place. 

“Laura- Laura, stop, stop!” Kaitlyn yelps. Her pain-filled yells seem to snap Laura out of the trance she had slipped into at the taste of blood, yanking her mouth away from Kaitlyn’s arm. Kaitlyn pulls her arm back towards herself, cradling it to her chest, face scrunched in pain. 

“I was wrong… How’d that hurt more…” Kaitlyn groans, pulling her arm away to give the wound a better look. Blood was steadily oozing from the wide puncture marks, streaks of black already winding their way up her pale skin from the site of the bite. 

“Sorry…” Laura sheepishly apologizes, her chin coated in red. “Seems like it worked, at least…”

“Yay for not dying…” Kaitlyn cradles her arm again, fist clenched at the intense burn. “Did I at least ease your craving for a hamburger a little?”

Laura’s responding smile was perhaps made a little creepier than it should be by the blood staining her teeth. She brings up a hand to wipe away the blood on her face, tilting her head with a shrug. “Eh… A little raw for my tastes.”

A loud thud from someplace nearby steals their attention, signaling the small moment of rest they had found had come to an end. “Can you walk?” Laura asks, already getting to her feet. 

“Probably not,” Kaitlyn says, though holds out a hand for Laura to pick her up anyway. 

Laura pulls her up, wincing in sympathy at every little pained sound Kaitlyn makes as she struggled to her feet. She slings Kaitlyn’s arm around her shoulder, her worry only deepening at just how much Kaitlyn was having to lean her weight into her. “It’s okay… I got you.” Laura accompanies her statement with a small squeeze of Kaitlyn’s wrist, guiding the both of them towards the stairs she had jumped down from. 

“Yeah… I got you, too,” Kaitlyn promises, panting with the effort of a few steps. “So long as I don’t pass out…”

  * * *

  02:24 | AUGUST 23 — DYLAN

HACKETT SCRAPYARD

 Dylan was getting real damn tired of the universe trying to give him a heart attack. 

“God damn, son of a…” Dylan glares up at the much too bright light that had flicked on with the loudest sounding ‘clunk’ he’s ever heard. 

“It’s okay…” Ryan tries to reassure him as if Dylan hadn’t seen him jump out of his skin literal seconds ago alongside him. “They’re motion activated... I think. We must have set them off.”

“I hate this place already…” Dylan muttered. 

“Then let’s make this quick, shall we?” Ryan grabbed hold of the chainlink fence door, swinging it open. Dylan did his best to bite back a remark on the ominous-sounding creaks and groans it made, dutifully following Ryan into what he was sure would become their final resting site. 

“So, uh… what’s the missing part we’re looking for?” Dylan asks, squinting around at the piles upon piles of discarded and beat-up cars. 

“A rotor arm,” Ryan answers. The way he was scanning over each car and quickly moving on wasn’t giving Dylan much confidence this plan of theirs was going to work out…

“...And that looks like…?”

“It’s the…” Ryan turns around, about to explain, but then stops himself. “Actually… let’s make this easier. Basically, we need to find a car that still has an engine. Since… that’s where we’ll find the part we need.”

“Got it,” Dylan says much too confidently. “Quick question though: Aren’t most scrapyards filled with gutted cars that are busted beyond repair? And then… crushed?”

“...Mostly,” Ryan admits. “But they usually come here to be stripped. If we’re lucky, there might still be some cars in here they haven’t started work on yet.”

“Yeah, uh…” Dylan looks pointedly around to the carcasses of cars surrounding them, reducing to nothing more than rusting frames. 

“There’s probably more than just this.” Ryan tries his best to keep the hope alive. “Come on… Let’s keep looking.”

They move deeper into the scrapyard, every car they walk past looking as useless to them as the last. Dylan keeps close behind Ryan as they walk, following as he makes his way over to yet another chainlink gate. Although, when Ryan tries to pull it open this time, it doesn’t budge. “Huh… I can’t see a lock on it…” Ryan notes, dropping his hand away from the gate. 

“Not one you can open with a key, no,” Dylan steps up to his side, hand on his hip as he eyes the gate. “Looks mechanical….”

Dylan’s eyes are drawn to a small building sitting in the middle of the section they were in. There were two large garage doors at the front, both of them lifted up and left wide open. Dylan didn’t even say a word to Ryan, just headed on over to it. 

“Wha- Dylan, wait,” said Ryan, gesturing towards the gate they were trying to get in. “Where are you going?”

“As much as I’d love to see you show off your muscles, Ryan, I don’t think you’re going to overpower an electric gate.” Dylan walks backward as he answers, teasing grin on his face. “I mean… maybe Jacob could, but…”

“Yeah, I know what you’re trying to do, Dylan.” Ryan quickly caught up with Dylan, who still had yet to ease his gleeful grin. “Not gonna work.”

“Me? What- What am I doing?” Dylan asks with all the innocence in the world. “I’m not doing anything… I’m just saying, it’s hard for me not to notice those kinds of things… I mean, Jacob is the camp’s sports guy… How am I not supposed to notice how much stronger he is?”

“Uh-Huh…” Ryan drawled. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re not trying to make me jealous or something…”

“Huh… That’s weird…” Dylan says, voice alight with wonder. “Why would me talking about Jacob’s physique make you jealous, Ryan?”

Ryan nearly trips over his feet, coming to a halt at the entrance of the building. “What? It doesn’t. I’m not… I’m not jealous--”

“Then why are you getting all flushed and bothered?”

For some reason, Ryan actually brought up a hand to his face as if he would be able to wipe away the flush of heat to his face. He weakly glared up at Dylan, shaking his head at the boy’s victorious smile. “So does that mean Jacob’s your… type?” Ryan asks.

“...You mean straight guys? No, that usually ends in disaster--”

“Dylan--”

“No, he’s not my type, man,” Dylan says, words littered with laughter at the exasperation in Ryan’s voice. The joking manner he so easily slips into fades away as his eye catches Ryan’s, seeing something there he doesn’t usually see. Ryan was typically a very serious dude, but there was something there, something so… open. Enough so that Dylan felt he should at least have the decency to return Ryan’s seriousness in the situation. 

“I, uh... I think you know what my ‘type’ is…” 

Ryan’s lips almost flickered into a smile. “Yeah, I... I think I do."

There's a pause, the air between them filled with that kind of tension where it feels like something is going to snap. And then, Ryan says with a glint in his eyes, "It's Nick, right?"

Alright... Maybe Ryan wasn't being as serious as he thought...

The tension breaks in the form of Dylan nearly choking on his own laughter, not at all expecting that from Ryan – nor the warm, pleased smile on Ryan's face at the sound of Dylan's laughter. 

"Okay, well, that's not fair," Dylan said. "You were checking him out too!"

Ryan raised a hand in surrender, Dylan's words ringing truth. "Sure, if me 'checking him out' is like you noticing things."

"You said it yourself, Ryan. 'Steel barbeque grill', that's what you said. Can't take it back."

"Yeah, yeah..." Ryan rolled his eyes, looking away from Dylan's teasing smile and into the building they were standing just outside of. 

"Although, uh... I feel like won't be able to see Nick the same way, after..." Dylan's words brought Ryan's attention back to him. "I know it wasn't him, but... He got so possessive over Abi, right? I mean, at first... Then he was just... Not Nick. Like, at all. Before tonight, I could never imagine Nick hurting a fly, let alone a person. Let alone Abi. It was just... It was all so crazy..."

"Yeah..." Ryan softly agreed. "You're right though. Whatever happened... That wasn't Nick."

"Just glad that didn't happen to me..." Dylan twitches up his amputated arm. "...What would I have turned into? I mean, if Nick got like that with Abi, then I don't even wanna think about what I would have been like with..." 

Ryan raised an eyebrow as Dylan abruptly stopped mid-sentence. He waited for the rest of that statement which would never come as Dylan’s mouth swung shut, bringing that thought to an end. “We should, uh… We should probably keep looking…” Ryan suggests, trying to dig Dylan out of his own awkward situation. 

Dylan cleared his throat, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, yeah, that- that’s probably… Yeah.”

Dylan immediately heads over to the wooden table that sat in the middle of the room, lit up by a warm bulb buzzing just overhead. It’s not too much of a surprise that it’s the big green button on the table that had grabbed his attention, reaching out to press it down. 

“Dylan, wait--” Ryan snatches Dylan’s hand midair, eyes wide in alarm. “What are you doing?”

“Uh… Pressing the big button?” Dylan answers, eyes darting between said button and Ryan. 

“We don’t know what it does!” Ryan said, still holding onto Dylan’s hand. 

“Come on, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s green!”

“So?”

“So it’s not like it’s a big red button.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes at Dylan. “I think we both know you’d want to press it even more if it was.”

Dylan tilted his head in thought, then slowly nodded his head. “Yeah… I guess that’s true.”

Ryan sighed, releasing his grip on Dylan’s arm. 

“But I’m still gonna press this one--”

“Dylan--!”

Ryan can’t get out much more than his name before Dylan’s slamming his hand down on the button. Fortunately, Ryan only has a single second to ponder over all the horrors that could have come from pressing the button before his worries are squashed. They both looked over at the creaking sounds of the gate swinging open, Ryan releasing a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding when nothing else happens. 

“Kinda wish I hadn’t pressed it…” says Dylan, realizing he had just opened up even more dark-as-hell, creepy-ass scrapyard for them to explore. “Oh, God… We’re gonna end up as guests on some true crime or paranormal podcast, aren’t we?”

"Well… That at least insinuates that we survive this if we’re gonna be guests, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, no, I meant guests as in ‘the two mutilated bodies found ripped apart and scattered around the scrapyard’…”

Ryan snorted, giving Dylan’s shoulder a shove. “No. I’m not gonna let that happen. Now come on, let’s--”

“Uh, shouldn’t we take a look around here first?” Dylan asks, gesturing with a thumb over his shoulder to the garage behind him. 

“Why?”

“...Isn’t this, like… where they actually work on the cars?” Dylan points out. “Maybe there’s a car in here they were still working on. Y’know, with engine still intact. Or even just parts laying about, right?”

Ryan hummed, regarding Dylan with a thoughtful eye. “You just want to avoid going out there, don’t you?”

“...I mean, yeah. That too.”

Ryan shook his head as a smile slipped through the cracks, taking a hand away from his shotgun to gesture it into the building. “Alright… Let’s take a look.”

It doesn’t take long for them to sweep the downstairs of the building, finding nothing but old mechanic tools that were of no use to them. There was a car that had been hoisted up into the air, but Ryan could see from first glance that it had already been stripped of most of its parts. It was starting to look like a waste of time, but Dylan still led them up the stairs and to the walkway, making sure they had exhausted every possibility before moving on. 

“Huh… Hey, Ryan, check this out.” Dylan picks up a calendar that had been sat on a table, glancing over to make sure Ryan was headed over. The calendar was one of those typical ones you see in most mechanic shops, only difference was this one had the 22nd circled, the words ‘FULL MOON!’ scrawled in bright red marker. 

“What?” Ryan asked. Dylan passes the calendar over to Ryan, whose confused frown only deepens as he glances over it. 

“Kinda seems like they had it all planned out…” Dylan notes, tapping on the circled date. “That’s definitely handwritten, right? Like… They don’t sell calendars that just point out the full moons. I mean… maybe they do, but it’d still be weird if the Hackett’s bought one, wouldn’t it?”

“No, it’s… it’s handwritten…” Ryan’s eyes scan over and over the calendar. But there wasn’t much to look at. Every box, every date was blank… All except for the 22nd. All except for last night.

All except for the full moon. 

Dylan leaves Ryan to his thoughts, walking down to the end of the walkway. There isn’t much for him to find other than a lone piece of paper. It looked to be official paperwork for the scrapyard if the big bold block letters spelling out ‘HACKETT SCRAP METAL’ were of any indicator. There was a table underneath that you’re supposed to fill in, but whoever had scribbled over it didn’t seem too concerned about doing things the proper way. 

“What the…” Dylan leans forward for a closer look. The vehicle's registration had at least been filled in, but hastily written over the rest of the table was a message:

‘SUV — BODY DAMAGE

Keep this off the books and out the way!

-T’

“You find something?” Ryan asks from just behind Dylan, having finally put the calender back down. 

“Uh, yeah. Not what we’re looking for, but…” Dylan turns around, holding out the paper to Ryan. “I think they might have been cooking the books a little…”

Ryan takes the paper, and it only takes him a few seconds to read all there is. But Dylan could see the way Ryan practically deflated with every word he read, some of the hopeful shine in his eyes dulling. 

“I don’t get it though… Why would you need to cook the books for a scrapyard?” Dylan asks. 

“If you’ve got something to hide I guess…” Ryan mutters, letting the misery soak into every one of his words. 

“Okay… But why would they need to hide a car?” Dylan continues to question. “And whose car is…” Dylan trails off, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together. “Holy Shit, Ryan, it’s--”

“Yeah…” Ryan seemed to have come to the same conclusion the same time as Dylan. He looks away from the paper, defeated eyes meeting Dylan’s. “It’s Laura and Max’s car.”

“T… Laura said the cop's name was Travis, didn’t she? As in…”

“Travis Hackett. Chris’ brother.” Ryan flung the piece of paper back down onto the table. “…Sheriff of North Kill…”

“Yeah, I… I guess if he needed to make Laura and Max, uh… disappear, then… he’d have to get rid of their car, too…” Dylan said, looking out to the dark of the scrapyard. “And what better place than your own family’s scrap yard…”

“Only body damage…” Ryan mumbled under his breath, staring into nothing as he thinks.

“Huh?”

“Only body damage…. So the engine’s fine,” Ryan explains, snapping out of his thoughts. “If we’re lucky, their car’s still here.”

“Would it be?” Dylan asks. “Wouldn’t they want to… get rid of it as fast as possible? It has been, like… what, two months?”

“You never know.” Ryan shrugs one shoulder, returning both hands to his grip on the shotgun. “It’s our best bet of getting out of here. Might not have to even fix the minivan; their car could run perfectly fine without any work.”

“Did I tell you I really hate it when you use logic on me?” Dylan says, being rewarded with the tiniest of smiles from Ryan — even when the poor guy was probably feeling at his lowest. “I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s sexy as hell, but it also means walking further into the nightmare that is Hackett’s Scrap Metal scrapyard, so…”

“Then it’s a good thing I brought protection.” Ryan pats the shotgun, shooting Dylan a sly smile as he turns back towards the stairs. 

Dylan follows after him with as dramatic a sigh as he can muster. “You have no idea how much I wish we were actually talking about condoms this time…”

Ryan very nearly falls down the stairs, catching himself just in time. “Why?” He tries to save face. “Did a bear end up catching your eye tonight after all?”

“Something like that…” Dylan says, walking side by side with Ryan as they head towards the now open gate. “Truth is, this 'bear' caught my eye way before tonight.”

“And… ‘Way before’ is…?”

“Oh, y’know… Beginning of summer.” Dylan doesn’t even dare look at Ryan, just keeps his gaze straight ahead, heading towards the large open container that was their only way through the piles of destroyed and worthless car frames. “And I wouldn’t really say he was a ‘bear’, he’s kinda like…” Dylan paused, humming in thought. “Like a cat, actually.”

“...A cat?”

“Yeah. I mean… cats love to be all independent, right? But they still love being around people. They’ll hang around you, accept your pets… but they know when they’ve had enough. Sometimes they just wanna be left to their own devices, so they’ll slink off someplace else for some alone time. And it’s not like you get offended or anything. It’s just… what they do.”

“Uh… Sure?”

“And have you seen a cat when they get threatened?” Dylan asks. “They don’t back down in the slightest, like they seem themselves as this great big tiger and not… y’know a cat. But at the end of the day? Those claws can still do some damage.”

“I… I guess…”

“And I know some people can see them as… I don’t know, selfish I guess? Like they only care about themselves, and they only hang around because it’s what’s convenient or beneficial to them but… I don’t. Because… I know better than anyone that looks can be deceiving. And if you just… get to know them a little, you’ll see they're actually the most loyal, loving companion someone could have.”

They had come to a stop just at the end of the container, half in half out. Dylan still couldn’t find it within himself to meet Ryan’s eyes, scuffing at the dirt under his shoes as he speaks. “But still… There are times where you wonder if… if a cat actually likes being with you or… or if maybe they just… tolerate you.”

“Dylan…” Ryan begins, but if there’s an end to that sentence, Dylan never finds out. Ryan moves towards him, further out of the container, and they’re instantly blinded. The motion light overhead kicks in with yet another obnoxiously loud ‘clunk’, and then immediately proceeds to explode, showering them in sparks. 

“Fuck!” Dylan cranes his head up to curse at the now broken light, holding out a hand towards Ryan. “Give me the damn gun, Ryan, I’ll shoot out the rest--”

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Ryan wisely denies Dylan his request, pulling the gun closer towards himself and away from Dylan’s reach.

“Fine…” Dylan grumbles. He takes in a deep breath to calm himself, his glare at the light only weakening slightly. He lets out his breath in one big exhale, tearing his eyes away from the light and over to Ryan. “Hey, did you notice though?” Dylan asks, pointing to the light. 

“Notice what? It exploding?”

“No.” Dylan smiled at Ryan’s baffled face, holding out his arms to either side of him. “We made sparks fly, Ryan.”

Ryan looks away to hide the smile he had to bite down, moving past Dylan and continuing forward, further into the scrapyard. “Good one…”

Dylan catches up, his arm brushing against Ryan’s shoulder as they walk. “Ah, you love it.”

Ryan hums, whether in agreement or disagreement, Dylan doesn’t know. But he could still see the hint of a smile on Ryan’s lips so… maybe he can be a little overconfident and think it’s the former?

They walk together through the narrow pathways of the scrapyard, surrounded by walls upon walls of cars they barely give a glance to. All of the cars here looked old, much too old to be Laura and Max’s car. It was seeming more and more likely that the Hackett’s had done a quick job of disposing of their car, every bit of evidence of the car's existence now gone from this place… 

Something a great deal more colorful than the rusting cars was sat almost hidden away in a corner of the yard, colorful enough that Dylan gives it a double take as they pass. “Ryan,” Dylan reaches out his good hand and wraps it around Ryan’s wrist, who lets Dylan pull him to a stop. “You see that?”

Ryan follows Dylan’s stare. “The signs? What about them?”

Dylan doesn’t answer, but instead pulls Ryan along with him towards the signs. One of them had been placed on its side, leaning up against one of the containers, practically half-buried with a bunch of other junk. Whilst colorful, the sign was starting to show signs of age and general wear and tear left exposed to the elements out here. Once bright purple and greens were faded, some of the paint even beginning to peel and chip away. 

“Harum Scarum…” Dylan reads aloud, looking first to the one that wasn’t on its side.“Ever heard of it?”

“Yeah, actually…” Ryan answers, much to Dylan’s surprise. “It was in the podcast I was listening to…”

“Bizzare Yet Bonafide?”

Ryan looks up to Dylan in surprise, not expecting for him to have remembered the name of the podcast. “Uh... Yeah, they talked about it in the ‘Hag of Hackett’s Quarry’ episode. They were sort of like… a traveling show, I guess. They’d go from place to place, set up camp and stay for a while, and make some money from their show. Then they’d… move on to someplace new.”

“So… they came here?” Dylan asks, pointing to the sign. 

“Their last stop, actually…” Ryan says. “They came to North Kill about six years ago. But something went wrong. A fire broke out, and… No one survived.”

“Okay… What’s that got to do with Hackett’s Quarry?”

“Well, it was nearby, apparently. The fire’s where the whole ‘Hag’ thing came from. Some people say she was an attendee of the show, others say she was part of it. Either way, she died in the fire, and now her ghost haunts the woods of Hackett’s Quarry looking for her lost baby boy. According to the stories, anyway.”

“Huh. So, uh… How did the sign end up here? If it was part of the show and part of the… fire, wouldn’t it be used for evidence or something?”

“I don’t know, dude. It probably was, but it was six years ago. They said it happened near Hackett property, so… Could have been near here. This place was probably the closest and best place to dispose of it.”

“Guess that makes sense…” Dylan reached out a hand towards the other sign, wiping away the buildup of dust and ash. He tilted his head to the side, reading the painted words. “...Eliza the Fortune Teller? Like… crystal ball and tarot cards? That kind of stuff?”

“I guess so,” Ryan replied. 

“Could sure do with my fortune being read right about now,” says Dylan, stepping away from the discarded signage and turning to Ryan. “Actually, scratch that. With my luck, my tarot reading would probably just be a card with a super dead dude on it, so--”

“Run…!”

“Away from this place…!”

“Out…!”

“Danger is coming…!”

“Oh, hell no, dude!” Dylan practically jumps towards Ryan, grabbing hold of his sleeve for… safety? Comfort? Something like that. They both search frantically around for wherever the hell those whispers could have come from, finding nothing but their own panicked faces. 

“What the fuck was that?” Dylan asks, fingers still scrunched tightly into Ryan’s shirt. “You did hear that, right?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I- I heard it,” Ryan somewhat stammers. 

“That’s the third time I’ve heard that creepy shit,” Dylan complains. 

“Wait… third?”

“Remember, back in Mr. H’s office?” Dylan recalls. “When I picked up that old-ass phone, I… I could have sworn I heard someone whisper my name all creepy, like… well, like that. And then again in the lodge, before we went back up to Mr. H’s room.”

“I… I didn’t hear it either of those times.”

“What, you haven’t had your name creepily whispered into your ear tonight?”

“Uh… No?”

“...Should I be concerned the detached ghost whisper has signaled me out twice? And is now telling us to get the fuck out of here?” Dylan asks.

“I… I don’t know--”

“Oh, geez. Great, Ryan. Because that makes me feel so much better…”

“What do you want me to say, man?” Ryan snapped, voice rising in agitation. “I’ve got no fucking clue what’s going on anymore. Because on one hand, I’m supposed to believe that there are actual werewolves prowling about and hunting us down. And on the other hand, I’m also now supposed to believe that the goddamn ‘Hag of Hackett’s Quarry’ is real, and… haunting-slash-warning us?”

“This just keeps getting more and more fucked up…” Dylan releases his tight grip on Ryan’s shirt, making somewhat of an effort to smooth out the crinkles he’d made. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine…” Ryan mumbled, closing his eyes with a sigh. “Sorry for… yelling at you.”

“I’d barely call that a yell, Ryan. And it’s fine, you… you’re stressed, same as everyone else.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I should take it out on you. I just… I want this to all be over, and for everyone to be okay. But… fuck, look what’s happened already! You’re hurt, Nick’s… whatever the hell he is, we’ve got no idea where Jacob is, or if he's even alive. Kaitlyn’s off with some eyepatch chick who killed Kaylee, and--”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa- hey! Breathe, Ryan. Breathe.” Dylan wasn’t used to seeing Ryan like this. But just because Ryan was good at keeping up a brave face and powering through it all didn’t mean the stress was eating away at him, too. It was only a matter of time before the levy broke, and Dylan was more than ready to be the one for Ryan to lean on. “Look, I’m not gonna lie, man… This is all so fucked. But we’ve made it this far, alright? That’s not by coincidence. I know you’re worried about the others; I am too. But we might as well make do with that worry and find a way to help them, right?”

“...Shouldn’t it be me telling you all that?” Ryan attempted to joke, some of the panic starting to dissipate from his eyes. 

“Maybe you’re starting to rub off on me.” Dylan smiled. “Or maybe I thought about how you’ve spent the whole night trying to stay rational and keep everyone safe, and it’s about time someone returned the favor and made sure you’re okay.”

Ryan smiled back at him, taking a hand off the shotgun to place it on Dylan’s shoulder. “I’m okay… Really, I am. Just… like you said: This is all so fucked.”

“Good thing I have some good news then,” Dylan says, gesturing with a flick of his chin to something behind Ryan. Ryan’s hand slips away from Dylan’s shoulder, turning around and looking up to where Dylan had gestured to. 

“I think we found Laura and Max’s car.”

A crane towered over them, yellow paint gleaming in the light of the full moon. The crane wasn’t what was important, though. What was important was the SUV attached to the crane, held in midair by the crane's powerful magnet. Unlike the other vehicles that occupied the Hackett’s scrapyard, this car didn’t appear to have a single speck of rust on it. In fact… it looked to be in almost damn near perfect condition from where Dylan was standing. 

But… he was not a mechanic, so… that statement should be taken with a grain of salt. 

Ryan huffs in disbelief, some of the tension in his body fading away at the sight of the car. “I think you might be right.”

“Well, yeah, I’m right like… ninety-eight percent of the time.”

“After tonight, I’ve come to the realization that that is one hundred percent true.” Ryan’s compliment brought a light dusting of pink to Dylan’s face. “In which case… Any ideas as to how we can get it down from there? I was gonna say I guess you’ve never used one of these before, but at this point, it’s best not to assume anything with you.”

“In this instance, your guess was correct. But I did use to be pretty, pretty good at the claw game at my local arcade…” Dylan claims, head held high with pride. “The kids used to call me ‘The Grabber’.”

“Okay, great. In that case, you should probably be the one to-- wait, they called you what?”

“The Grabb--” A dawning look of horror crossed Dylan’s face. “Oh no. Oh God, I… I used to run around proudly calling myself that…”

“So long as the kids don’t still call you that…”

“No, Ryan. They don’t. And I hope you know a little piece of my childhood just died forever.”

“My condolences,” Ryan said dryly, barely able to keep the amused smirk off his face. “Would getting to use the big crane cheer you up?”

“Dude, I’m not seven,” Dylan scoffed, side-eyeing said crane. “…But yes, yes it would. I mean, I’m also kinda terrified something’s gonna jump out from the trees and make a bee-line towards the giant crane moving about, but…”

“I’ll watch over you,” Ryan promised, the statement catching Dylan off guard. 

“I know you will,” Dylan said softly, shy smile pulling at his lips. “And I hope you know I will too. Just… without a gun. Or a hand to hold and fire a gun. Basically, I’ll be useless if something happens, but the sentiment's still there, right?”

The warmth held in Ryan's eyes as he looked at Dylan answered his question before Ryan even spoke. "Yeah... It's still there."

“Okay…” Dylan exhaled deeply, mentally hyping himself up for what’s ahead. “Guess I’ll see you in a sec.”

Dylan climbed the short climb up the stairs of the crane, thankful that this piece of machinery was at least in good condition. Honestly, it’s a miracle the door doesn’t just crumble apart in his hands as he pulls it open given the state of everything else in this scrapyard. 

“Alright… Looks like somebody's mom didn’t teach them to clean up after themselves…” Dylan picks up a box of tools that had been left on the chair, discarding it to the side. He drops down into the now sittable chair, glancing around at the numerous switches, levers, and other controls surrounding him. “Doesn’t look too complicated…”

There are a few switches by his right side that appear to have been flicked down into an ‘off position’. Dylan reaches over to them, pointer finger flicking them up one by one. Sure enough, he’s greeted by the sound of the crane whirring to life, his guess proving correct. “Welcome back, Grabber…”

His victory is short-lived however as the gentle whir of electronics is replaced by the not-so-gentle sounds of heavy rock and bright warning lights flashing around him. “Oh shit--” Dylan frantically smacks at the buttons, desperately trying to find the ‘off’ button to the shredding guitar riffs, high energy drums, and screaming vocals that, let’s face it, was practically a damn dinner bell for the hungry Hackett’s out there. 

“Dylan?” Ryan’s voice calls down to him from below, equal parts worry and confusion in his voice. “Dude?! The hell are you doing?”

“My bad!” Dylan calls back, having finally managed to turn off the music. He leans back into the chair, giving the controls another look over. “Alright… Here goes nothing.”

There’s a big lever in front of him that actually does kinda look like the joystick of those claw machines at the arcade. With a shrug, Dylan grabs hold and pulls it to the left. With a lurch, the arm of the crane — and the cabin he was sitting in — begins to rotate in the same direction he had pulled the stick. It doesn’t take much more maneuvering to lower the car down to where Ryan was waiting, gently placing it down on the ground. 

“Nice one, Dylan!” Ryan yells up, and the genuine pride he hears in Ryan’s voice only strengthens his own proud smile. 

“Yeah, uh… I think I’ve found my calling!”

“Nothing stopping you from being a quantum physicist who also happens to be certified to operate a crane!” Ryan jokes back, already making his way into the car to check it over. 

Dylan chuckles quietly to himself in the cabin, taking the time to relax now his part was done. For the most part, anyway. It was… surprisingly easy to operate such a heavy piece of machinery. And… alright, he’ll admit it — it was fun as hell, too. Maybe Ryan was onto something… Maybe he’ll take a look into crane operation courses…

Clunk. 

“Oh… No…” There’s that dreaded sound again. The waning remnants of a smile on his face slip away as one of the motion sensor lights ahead flicker on, lighting up the darkness of the scrapyard. And yet, he can’t see what activated it. 

Clunk.

Another flickers on down the path. Whatever was moving around down there was moving fast. It was moving fast, and it was headed this way.

Headed straight toward Ryan.

“Shit. Shit, um--” He had to tell him. He had to warm him before it was upon him. There’s a button in front of him — a red button this time — and Dylan doesn’t hesitate to slam his hand down on it. A horn blares out from the crane, startling Ryan so bad that he manages to slam his head on the roof of the car. 

“Ow!” Ryan hisses, reversing out of the passenger door, rubbing at the forming bump on his head. He glances up at Dylan, unoccupied arm held out to his side in the universal sign of ‘What the fuck, dude?’

“There’s something coming!” Dylan yells down to him, and suddenly the bump on his head becomes the least of Ryan’s concerns. He freezes in place, reaching for a shotgun that was no longer in his possession. 

“Hide!” The command unfreezes Ryan, who promptly scrambles back into the car. He just barely manages to slam the door closed, looking out the glass windows that never seemed quite so fragile to see one of the beasts prowling atop one of the containers, ravenous eyes fixated on its dinner in a box. 

Dylan yanks at the lever, lifting the car up from the ground. Ryan steadies himself, hands pressed against the sides of the car as it lurches up. He can only watch as the werewolf slinks over to the side of the container, deadly claws digging into metal that shouldn’t be so easily dug into as it readies itself. It leaps forward, towards the car, towards Ryan, and…

It misses.

At first.

“Whoa--” The car shakes violently as the werewolf latches onto the bottom of the car, the extra weight putting strain on the magnet holding the car in mid-air. Ryan's eyes dart around the darkened interior of the car, trying to find the shotgun he was sure he had placed on the backseat. His attention is quickly taken away as the car rocks, weight shifting as the werewolf clings to the back of the car. Ryan tries to shuffle even further away, already backed up in the corner as the werewolf snarls at him from just outside the back window. 

“DYLAN!” 

“Oh fuck--” The fear laced into Ryan’s voice as he yelled for him was doing nothing to calm Dylan’s nerves. But the reality that, if he didn’t calm his nerves, if he didn’t think clearly, right here, right when it’s most important, would mean he’d lose Ryan? Just like that, a wave of calmness washes over him. He could do this. He had done this already — he knew how to think things through, even when things were going to shit around him. 

So… He’ll do as he did last time. Him, and Ryan… Facing a threat that can’t be taken down by conventional means… They can’t kill it… So… He needs to distract it. He needs to distract it with…

With sound…

His hand finds the button again, wincing at the ear-piercing volume of the horn. The werewolf seems to agree with his distaste given its attempts to cover its ears with its giant paws, howling in agony in response to the blaring horn. 

The flash of something dropping out of the car catches Dylan’s eye, and it takes his frazzled mind a moment to comprehend that that something was fucking Ryan leaping out of the car. Dylan hurriedly leans closer to the window, sighing in relief when he sees that Ryan hadn’t just splattered on the ground. Still, he could see that it was quite a fall, and given the way that Ryan was sluggishly making an attempt to crawl away, he probably wasn’t in the best of shape.

Wait… Where was the werewolf…?

Dylan leans back, looking over to where he had last seen the werewolf, only to find it was gone. No longer was it hanging onto the back of the car. In fact, it wasn’t on the car at all. Now it was clambering up the arm of the crane, headed towards where it had heard the horn blasts coming from. Towards the source of its pain. Towards… him.

“Oh shit…” Time to think on his feet again. What were the chances of sound working again? Not great, given it had only held off the werewolf from ripping Ryan apart for all of about five seconds. He had no gun, nor any silver or… the proper ability to even fire a gun. There wasn’t anything in this cabin apart from some leftover tools; wrenches, hammers, and…

Huh.

Was that a welding torch?

Dylan snatches it up from the ground, the heavy weight of it reassuring him that there was still some gas or fuel or whatever powered this thing in there. The werewolf was getting closer and closer, essential seconds ticking away. Dylan frantically shakes the little metal contraption, thumb pressing over and over again at the trigger as small spurts of flames flicker out of the end. 

Suddenly, it’s upon him. Blood-red eyes peer at him through the window, which promptly shatters as the beast brings a clawed hand down on it. With one last push of the trigger the torch bursts into life, the darkness of the cabin replaced with fiery oranges and glowing purples.

In this moment, with the burning heat of the torch radiating across his skin, the power of it held in his hand… 

He felt pretty fucking unstoppable. 

The werewolf takes a swipe at him, lanky arm reaching in through the shattered window. In one quick motion, Dylan dodges the claws that were inches away from slicing through his skin, pushing the torch as much as he dares in the wolf’s direction and pulling the trigger. Fire erupts from the torch once more, and the wolf’s hungry snarls quickly turn to ones of pain as the flames wash over its face. 

It can only withstand the blistering heat for a few seconds. It leaps away from the crane, apparently deciding that Dylan was more trouble than he was worth. Dylan doesn’t even get a chance to bathe in the relief he deserves as his eyes follow the werewolf’s path, seeing it drop back down, right behind Ryan. Ryan, who still had yet to get to his feet. Ryan, who no longer had the gun. 

Ryan glanced behind him at the sound of the werewolf hitting the ground, coming to those previous realizations the same time as Dylan had. He continued to scuffle back and away from the werewolf, which was slowly advancing toward him. “Dylan! Holy mother of… Fuck, Dylan!”

Dylan drops the welding torch, his hands returning to the controls of the crane. He pushes forward on the stick, but it resists, seemingly stuck in place. “Come… On… You… Rusty… Bitch…” With one big push, the lever becomes unstuck, finally responding to his commands. Dylan doesn’t even have time to worry over getting this just right, and can only rely on eyeing the position of the car to Ryan and the werewolf that was mere seconds away from pouncing. He takes in a deep breath, praying all those years of mastering the claw machine at the arcade would pay off, and hits the release button. 

The car crashes to the ground in a cacophony of screeching metal. Dylan doesn’t even wait for the dust to clear to get a good look. He’s out of his seat in seconds, racing down the metal stairs and to where he can only hope he won’t find Ryan’s flattened corpse. He gets to the bottom of the stairs, racing around the corner. Then, he stops, chest heaving with every breath. There was Ryan, shotgun back in hand, limping his way towards him. 

“Oh thank fuck--” Dylan leans over, taking a moment to catch his breath. “Fuck, I thought I’d squished you…”

“Nope… Still alive…” Ryan groaned, holding a hand to his side. "Just about..."

Dylan raised his head back up, brow furrowing with his concern at the pained grimace on Ryan’s face. “You okay?”

“Am I okay?” Ryan asks, and Dylan’s a little taken aback by the look of pure awe on Ryan’s face. “Dylan… You just saved my life, man.”

“Ah…” Dylan jokingly dismisses the claim with a wave of his hand. “All in a day’s work. Besides…” Dylan holds up his amputated hand, giving Ryan a knowing smirk. “You saved mine. Only fair I return the favor.”

“Yeah, but, dude… holy shit!” Ryan bursts out. “The car, and the- the crane. You got me out of the way, and then… fuck, the timing and the precision to drop it just right, and… And I could have sworn I saw fire?”

”Oh, yeah, uh…” Dylan glances back up at the cabin, lazily flicking a hand in the direction of the cabin. “There was like… this welding torch or something. I kinda… set the werewolf on fire.”

Ryan just stared slack-jawed at Dylan for a moment, perhaps a little perplexed by how calmly Dylan had made that statement. “Dylan… You’re fucking incredible, dude.”

Dylan ducked his head at the compliment, but with the light from the full moon, it was next to impossible for Ryan to miss the pleased little smile on his face.

The creaking of the car from behind them interrupts the moment. Both their heads snap towards it, Dylan shuffling closer to Ryan. 

“Isn’t it… Isn’t it dead?” Ryan asks, bringing up the shotgun. 

“Guess not…” Dylan uttered quietly.

“How? You dropped a whole ass car on it…”

“Yeah, but Laura said we needed to use silver, didn’t she?”

“Right… Silver…” Ryan muttered. The car almost sounded like it was groaning, metal being bent as the pinned creature beneath began to shift around. 

“Uh… That’s our cue to get the hell out of here, right?”

“Yep,” Ryan happily agreed, reaching a hand out behind him to tug on Dylan’s arm, encouraging him to start walking back with him. Dylan easily went with him, both keeping their eyes on the car as they make their way out of the scrapyard. 

It’s not until they’re safely past the gates and back into the woods — without the thudding sounds of the wolf’s paws following — that they let themselves relax a little. Of course, that’s not to say they weren’t frequently glancing behind them as they walked, double-checking they weren’t being followed. 

“You know, I think it’s about time I reclaim and rebrand my former title,” Dylan says, splaying his hands — well, hand and one stub — out in front of him. “ ‘The Grabber’ comes to the rescue and saves the day!”

“Nope…” Ryan shakes his head. “Still doesn’t sound right.”

“Pfft, whatever.” Dylan drops his arms back down. “So… Guess I can add ‘works well under pressure’ to my college resume, huh?”

Ryan tilted his head down in agreement. “Sure. Feel free to write me down as a reference if you need one.”

“Really?” Dylan asked. “ I mean… If I’m gonna put you down as a reference… Kinda seems like I’d need your number.”

Ryan came to a stop, to which Dylan also stopped. Ryan was looking at Dylan with narrowed eyes, tone light with amusement as he said, “Uh-huh…”

“How else are people gonna contact you as my reference?” Dylan asked, the picture of innocence

Ryan hummed. “You know what? We survive the rest of the night, you can have whatever the hell you want. You friggen deserve it at this point…”

“I… think you’re promising more than you intend to there, Ryan.”

Ryan just smiled, this almost unnoticeable pull to the corner of his mouth that made Dylan’s mouth go dry. He glanced away from Dylan for a split second, a split second that had Dylan panicking over whether he’d just said something he shouldn’t before Ryan’s eyes are back on him, locked into each other's gazes. 

“I promised exactly what I meant to promise.”

#dylan/ryan #ryan x dylan #dylan x ryan #radioheads #The Quarry #the quarry game #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #the quarry spoilers

[chipper9906]

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Pairings: Dylan Lenivy/Ryan Erzahler

Chapter Word Count: 12,620

Overall Word Count: 12,620

Status: Multi-Chapter - In Progress (1/?)

Summary:

“Cool, cool…” Dylan mutters, nodding his head. “And, uh… Would you… Date a guy with one hand?”

Ryan’s confused frown all but disappeared, flattening out as he got what Dylan was trying to hint at. He had to bite down hard on his tongue to fight back the smile trying to break through, forcing his eyes away from Dylan’s expectant face before he loses the battle completely. “I mean… It’d depend on the guy, I suppose. I tend to look for more qualities in a guy than… whether he’s in possession of both hands or not…”

Dylan choked out a nervous laugh, swaying back and forth as he nodded once more. “Yeah, okay, that’s… that’s fair. So, uh… Let’s just say there’s this totally hypothetical guy who, hypothetically, doesn’t have a hand. What, um… What kinds of qualities would this guy need to have for you to be… interested?”

* * *

A retelling of the events of the game past the pool house scene, except Kaitlyn ends up going with Laura instead of Ryan, and Ryan leaves with Dylan and Abi.

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00:45 | AUGUST 23 — KAITLYN

HACKETT’S QUARRY CAMP POOLHOUSE

“I’m going with you.”

“What?!” Kaitlyn and Dylan’s voices — understandably — joined in exclamation at Ryan’s announcement.

“Uh, yeah… What they said,” Laura agreed with their eloquent outburst, looking none too happy with Ryan’s suggestion. 

“I’m going to show you that Chris Hackett has nothing to do with this. He wanted us to stay inside tonight. He wanted us safe.”

Laura still didn’t look thrilled with the idea. “I don’t care what you think.”

Ryan didn’t exactly look the happy camper either. “I don’t care what you think.”

“Alright, this is ridiculous--” Kaitlyn jumped up, placing her hands between the two. “--And a terrible idea.” Kaitlyn looked to Laura, eyes briefly dropping down to her arm, and to where her bloodied bite mark lay. “I do think you should have someone with you, though. With how quick Nick — whatever the hell happened to him — you don’t have much time at all.”

“I’m aware,” Laura snapped. “That’s why I need to get going--”

“I’m not just gonna let you murder Chris--!” Ryan protested, trying to push Kaitlyn’s hand out of the way. 

“Ryan, calm down,” Kaitlyn said, giving Ryan a light push back once more. Thankfully, Ryan listened, no longer making an attempt to push past her.

That’s not to say he didn’t try to argue his piece, however. “Kaitlyn, this is… it’s insane. I mean, what if… what if she’s wrong?”

“I’m not wrong,” Laura insisted, a touch of heat in her voice. “His brother fucking said it himself! ‘You fucking bit one of them, Chris’, that’s what he said! He bit Max, and now I’m fucking bit, and who knows who else! Your friend over there would be halfway turned by now if you hadn’t removed his hand!” Laura gestured towards Dylan, who was still backed away in the shadows, nervous eyes darting back and forth between Laura and Ryan’s exchange like a tennis match. 

Ryan glanced back to Dylan, the fire in his eyes diminishing at the sight of him. Dylan’s eyes dropped away at Ryan’s gaze, hand unconsciously moving towards what remained of the other. Ryan just… He couldn’t imagine it. Couldn’t imagine one of those things had been Chris — or even Kaylee if what Laura had said was true. He couldn’t picture it was either of them hunting them down… Prowling around the cabins. Maiming Dylan--

“I…” Ryan faltered, turning back to the others. “We can’t just let her walk over there and just… shoot Chris--”

“That’s why I’m going with her,” Kaitlyn said firmly, the statement catching Ryan off guard. “I let you two go together, I imagine one of you is going to end up full of buckshot twenty minutes in, werewolf or no werewolf.”

“I don’t need help--”

“It’s not your decision,” Kaitlyn interrupted Laura, now her turn to be caught off guard. “What if you turn into one of those things before you even get to the house? Then what?” Kaitlyn turned her head back towards Ryan, finally lowering her hand away now it seemed like Ryan wasn’t going to try and do something stupid… “I’m not going to let her just walk in there and shoot Chris no questions asked, okay? We will find out the truth… And then make a decision.”

Ryan frowned, unhappy eyes flickering between the shotgun in Laura’s hands and Kaitlyn. “But--”

“I get it,” Kaitlyn began softly, reaching up a hand and placing it on Ryan’s shoulder. “I get that I get it, but don’t really get it. He’s Mr. H to me, but he’s Chris to you. Obviously you’re going to want to protect him. But bottom line here, Ryan, is… there’s a chance this is all true. And given what we’ve seen tonight, it’s seeming likely. And if that is the case… if it comes down to it, and Laura can’t do it and it's up to you… could you do it? Could you kill Chris if it was the only choice we had?”

“I…” The hesitation that lingered after that single word answered Kaitlyn’s question for him — even if he wasn’t entirely sure of the answer himself. Right now, in this moment, could he imagine himself able to look Chris in the eye, wolf or not, and pull the trigger?

“And don’t forget about Dylan and Abi,” Kaitlyn added, her voice low and quiet. Not that it made much of a difference; both parties were about five feet away from them. “They’re gonna need your help getting back to the lodge, and Dylan… He needs some real medical attention A.S.A.P. Once those painkillers start wearing off…”

Kaitlyn had won the argument with that, and she knew it. Ryan made the mistake of looking over to Dylan again, to his clothes soaked in blood and his worry-filled eyes, and it was all over. Ryan’s shoulders drooped as the fight went out of him, finding his hand reaching out to Dylan to reassure him. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“You said you drove over here in a cop car, right?” Kaitlyn asked Laura. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank God. We can use that to start getting people the hell out of here--”

“You could, if it wasn’t currently at the bottom of the lake,” Laura cut Kaitlyn off before her hopes could grow any higher. 

Ryan whipped back around, his soft reassuring tone now replaced with irritation. “Why?!” 

“It was a stolen cop car!”

“Okay, new plan,” Kailtyn quickly blew past that hiccup, addressing Ryan. “Okay, so… Maybe the minivan? I know it wasn’t working, but… Mr. H barely looked at it, he was in such a hurry to get out of here…”

“Yeah, before he turned…” Laura mumbled under her breath, getting a glare thrown in her direction from Ryan. 

“Just… take another look at it, okay? Start getting everyone out of here to safety.” Kaitlyn picked up the shotgun, pushing it into Ryan’s hands. Ryan somewhat reluctantly took the offered gun, eyes dropping down to it, then over to Laura. Laura narrowed her eyes at his stare, her grip on her own gun tightening just a little bit more. 

“Please, just…” Ryan began, but what could he say? Nothing. Nothing was the answer. Laura was set in what she wanted to go out there and do. Ryan shook his head, placing the strap of the gun over his shoulder and swinging the gun around to his back. “Come on. Let’s get moving.”

  * * *

  01:30 | AUGUST 23 — KAITLYN

HACKETT WOODS

The heavens had opened, pouring out buckets from the sky. For Kaitlyn, it was a relief, the rain making quick work of cleaning away Nick’s blood which had dried into her clothes. And skin. And hair. Everywhere, basically. 

“You sure this is the right way?” Laura asked, trudging along through the mud and rain just behind her.

“I think so? Never actually been out here myself,” Kaitlyn says over her shoulder. “No one has, apart from the Hackett’s. Far as I’m aware, anyway.”

“Great…” Laura sighed, gun in hand and her one remaining eye keeping a careful watch out of their surroundings. “Let’s just hope we don’t get lost out here…”

“Amen to that…” Kaitlyn mumbled in agreement.

“Hey, so what’s the deal with that Ryan guy?” Laura asked after a few beats of silence between them. 

Kaitlyn looked over at Laura, pace slowing so they were matched. “What do you mean?”

“Is he always… such an asshole?”

“What? No—” Kaitlyn strongly shook her head side to side. “—No, he’s not an asshole. It’s just… It’s been one hell of a night.”

”Yeah, and I’ve had one hell of a ‘two months,' ” Laura shot back. “I mean… I don’t get it. Like, sure, I didn’t want to believe it was werewolves at first either. Who would? But when the evidence was right there in front of me for me to see with my own eyes, it was kind of hard not to take it as the truth.”

“Well… Yeah, but Ryan, he… It takes a lot to gain his trust. And you were asking him to kill someone he cares for over the word of… you, some random chick he met like twenty minutes ago. No offense, by the way.”

“Uh… none taken,” said Laura. “But it’s not just my word, is it? You said your friend, uh…”

“Nick?”

“Yeah, didn’t you say you saw him turn?”

Kaitlyn sighed, eyes darting around the darkness of the woods, as if by simply mentioning his name that… thing that came out of Nick would appear hidden amongst the trees. “Yeah… We did.”

“And what about the tall dude--”

“Dylan,” Kaitlyn corrected once more. 

“And what about Dylan? He said Ryan chopped off his hand after one of them bit him! I mean sure, it was the right thing to do, but if Ryan doesn’t believe in any of this, then why the hell did he decide to do that?”

“That, I… Don’t actually know,” Kaitlyn had to admit. “Look, I’m not saying I don’t believe you, okay? You’re the only person so far that’s actually been able to explain any of this, even if it is…”

“...Absolutely batshit insane?” Laura guessed the end of her sentence with a knowing smile.

Kaitlyn huffed from her nose, nodding her head in agreement. “Sure. But for Ryan… If he accepts that this is what it is? That you’re right? It means that Mr. H has been lying to all of us. That he kept this summer camp running, putting a bunch of kids in danger as he and his kids turn into werewolves every full moon. I mean, twice over camp, they were…” Kaitlyn shakes her head, beginning to feel a little pill of resentment burn inside. “If you’re right… If Ryan starts to believe you’re right… then it means that Mr. H has to die. So…”

“So he won’t believe it…” Laura realized. 

The two began to slow as the thick cover of trees began to break apart, revealing a clearing just up ahead. There, nestled within the forests of Hackett’s Quarry, was Hackett House. To the naked eye, it was nothing more than an imposing shadow silhouetted by the full moon, secured by a chain-mail fence wrapped around its perimeter — made extra secure by the vicious coils of barbed wire running along the top. 

“Uh… You’re seeing what I’m seeing, right?” Laura gestures towards the house. “Look at this place! You’re telling me you knew he lived out here, in his redneck mansion, with his redneck family, out in the ass crack of the woods, and didn’t think at any point that it was weird?”

“Now it does,” Kaitlyn answers, looking over the sprawling structure. “Before all this… It was just a house in the woods. Scenic, if anything.”

Laura scoffed in disbelief, eyes casting over every bit of the house she can see from here. More specifically… “So… How do we get in?”

“Um... Afraid I know as much as you at this point,” Kaitlyn says with a shrug of her shoulders. “Doesn’t seem like the kind of place you can just walk up to the front door and knock…”

Laura huffed, her anxiety levels rising more and more. They were running out of time. More specifically, Laura was running out of time, but given Kaitlyn’s proximity to her when she does run out of time… They’d both be meeting their ends soon.

Well… Unless Kaitlyn chooses to shoot Laura with a shell of silver, of course. 

“Just… Keep looking. There’s got to be some way in…” Laura stepped closer, about to move past Kaitlyn and towards the house when the sound of wood creaking under them stopped her. Both of them freeze, heads snapping down to the ground and to the planks under their feet.

One of them moves. There’s another creak, and then all of a sudden the entire platform begins to give way, and--

It was only a few seconds, but those moments of stomach-churning free fall feel like an eternity. But then again, Kaitlyn would rather take that all over again than the sharp slap of hitting the surface of the water — admittedly better than hitting the ground. She’s able to squeeze her mouth and eyes shut as she sinks down into the freezing murky water, grateful that of all the ways she could die tonight, it won't be by drowning. She pushes herself in the direction of what she hopes is up, breaching the surface with a deep inhale of air.

“Fuck. Laura, are you--” Kaitlyn stops, padding in place as she looks around in the dark of the… whatever this place was. The moonlight filtering in from the gap they had just fallen through illuminated the surface of the water enough that she could see — or more accurately not see — anyone else. The water was already beginning to calm, only disturbed by Kaitlyn’s minor movements as she kept herself afloat. “…Laura…?”

Laura seemingly appears from nowhere, popping out of the water a few feet away with what sounded like a pained gasp. She spent no extra time in the water, pushing through the water and over to where the floor of this place met the surface and clambered out. Dylan was right… It did look like when a cat gets unexpectedly wet — which is to say, every time a cat gets wet. 

Kaitlyn hurries after her, almost as eager to get out of the cold water as she was. Laura’s breaths were rapid and shaky, hands held out by her sides as she tries to recover. “It stalks your breath but shuns clear water…” 

“It stalks your…?” Kaitlyn began to ask, stopping herself as she catches sight of Laura’s arm. Her now unbitten arm. “Whoa, um…? Laura, your… Your arm…?”

Laura glances down at her own arm, seeing nothing but smooth and intact skin. She can’t help but smile at least a little, amazed by the healing capabilities that came with this curse. 

That’s when it clicks in Kaitlyn’s mind. Nick… How he was back at the lodge. Covered in all that blood, and yet without a single mark on him. And given Abi’s description as they sat by the fire… He should have been dead. And yet, within half an hour of being attacked by that thing in the woods, he was almost the picture of health once again. 

Which, for Laura, meant…

“I might be wrong here, but…” Kaitlyn slowly reaches toward Laura, who at first flinches away at the movement. Kaitlyn stops, eyebrow raised. But when Laura doesn’t say anything else in disagreement, she continues. She grabs hold of the edges of the eyepatch Laura wore, pulling it off her head to reveal…

Yep, just as she thought. Two intact eyes were staring right back at her, not even a scar left over. 

“Okay, that’s… both cool as hell and super weird,” Kaitlyn said. “But, uh… Guess you won’t have to go dressing up as a pirate for Halloween anymore?”

Laura blinked at her in her shock, bringing up a hand and holding it in front of her face. She laughs, marveling at the return of her eye — and her depth perception with it. It was perhaps the one good thing that happened tonight… “No shit!”

But as quickly as the smile and brief moment of good had come, it vanished. Because if she was healing like this, it could only mean one thing… “Can you see yellow? In my eyes?” She asked Kaitlyn desperately, moving closer for Kaitlyn to get a better look. 

The glow from the moonlight hit her eyes at just the right angle, illuminating her undoubtedly golden eyes. Kaitlyn wisely stepped back, wondering just what this meant in terms of how long she had left before all hell broke loose… “Yep. Yep, they’re yellow alright.”

Laura’s face fell. “Shit.” ‘My sentiments exactly’, Kaitlyn thought. “We haven’t got much time.”

Despite how fast they wished to make their way through this place, the quarry’s treacherous conditions made it a little too difficult. It seemed that even when the quarry was in use that it wasn’t up to code… 

Kaitlyn reaches out towards the old metal barriers lining the pathways as they walk, brushing her fingers along the decades of rust that had built up. It felt like the whole thing was going to crumble away at her touch… And was also the only thing stopping them from plunging over the edge and into what seemed like endless darkness below…

“Probably for the best we keep away from the edges…” Kaitlyn says, backing away from the railing.

“Not sure how much of a choice we’ll have, given how run down this place is,” Laura replies, focusing on the not-so-stable ground under her feet. “Would rather we don’t take another fall--”

“Silas!”

The call brings them both to a stop, listening as the unknown woman’s pain-filled cry echoes around the rocky walls of the quarry. “…Did you hear that too?” Laura asks, glancing at Kaitlyn behind her. 

“...Unfortunately…” Kaitlyn’s eyes dart around the darkness of the cavern, searching for the source of the voice. “You know, if Ryan and Dylan were here, they’d probably be going on and on about…” Kaitlyn trails off as the realization hits her. “Oh my God… Ryan was right…”

Laura fully turned around at that. “Right about what?”

“The… Hag Of Hackett’s Quarry…” Kaitlyn reluctantly answers. 

Laura shot her a perplexed frown at the name. “Sorry, what? The hell is ‘The Ha--’ ”

“Don’t say it again!” Kaitlyn pleaded. “It’s this ghost story Ryan apparently liked telling the kids around the fire. Except… Guess it’s not just a story anymore.”

“This place has its own ghost story?” Laura scoffed. “As if werewolves aren’t enough…”

“Yeah… It was something about a woman who sort of… hangs around the Quarry, I guess. I don’t know, Ryan didn’t fully explain it, but he mentioned something about her having a kid. That’s why she’s stuck here, looking for him.”

“Uh…” Laura raised a finger, twirling it in a circular motion to the cavern they were standing in. “So I’m guessing… Silas?”

“Yeah, seems like it…” Kaitlyn said with a deep exhale. “Maybe she doesn’t want us here…”

“Or… maybe she does,” Laura countered. “That wasn’t the first time I’ve heard her. At least… I’m pretty sure it was her.”

“You’re pretty sure what was her?”

“The voice I heard, back in the police station. Both me and Max heard. It was like… like she was guiding us. We could hear her clear as day in that room, and if we hadn’t… We probably wouldn’t have found all that silver ammo.”

“...But why would…” Kaitlyn closed her eyes with a sigh. She still hated saying that name out loud… “Why would the ‘Hag Of Hackett’s Quarry’ be guiding us? Why would she want us to track down and kill werewolves?”

Laura just shrugs, bringing up her shotgun to hold in both hands. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

As with most things tonight, the peace doesn’t last long. They couldn’t have been walking for more than five minutes before something happens. But sure enough, as the rocky path under their feet turns to long abandoned stairs, the exact thing Kaitlyn thought was going to happen, happened. 

She wasn’t even sure why she had been the one to take the lead, given that Laura was still in possession of the shotgun. Either way, it’s as she takes a step onto the crumbling stairs that it collapses out from underneath her, the entire platform shaking as its weakened foundations threaten to give in entirely. It’s more instinct than thought that has her leaping for the part of the platform that doesn’t seem like it’ll be plunging into the dark below, wincing as her ribs collide with the edge. She scrambles up to her feet, panicked mind reminding her that Laura had been right behind her, on those same collapsing steps. 

Kaitlyn whirls round, making sure her feet are set as she leans forward, hand held outstretched. Laura doesn’t even need to be told what to do, already leaping up from the platform below. Laura’s hand clasps onto hers, and with one all-mighty pull, Laura joins her on the platform. 

By which she means, Laura smacks into her hard enough that they both go sprawling to the ground. Kaitlyn grunts in surprise as the air’s knocked out of her, unsure whether it was her ribs that hurt more, or now her back from hitting the cold hard ground beneath her… 

“Good catch!” Laura compliments her with a grin. 

“Not so good landing…” Kaitlyn groans back. 

Laura snorts, pushing herself off of Kaitlyn. She gets to her feet, offering a hand to Kaitlyn who accepts the help. Kaitlyn glances down at herself, using a hand to try and brush away the cave dust that now seemed to cover her all over. 

“I don’t know about you, but I could really go for a hamburger right now.”

Kaitlyn froze in her brushing, looking over to Laura in pure bewilderment. And… a little fear, if she’s being honest. Given the length of time between Nick complaining about how hungry he was before exploding into something that was very much not Nick… “Uh… No? I’m good, actually. And I’m not sure what your chances are of finding a hamburger down here…”

They continue through the Quarry, constantly moving up. Up, past the rickety stairs they could only silently pray wouldn’t fall apart again. Up, moving ever higher just to get back to ground level — back to where they started. Though, hopefully, given this was ‘Hackett’s Quarry’… this path actually spits them out at least inside the Hackett’s property… 

“Can’t wait for this to all be over…” Kaitlyn says, her tiredness from this entire evening really starting to catch up with her.

“Yep, that was pretty much mine and Max’s mantra every night we were in that cell…” Laura cautiously toes at the next platform they were to step onto. She must deem it safe, as she quickly continues forward. 

“You and Max been together a while?”

Laura slows down at that, throwing Kaitlyn a questioning look over her shoulder. “…Why do you wanna know?”

Kaitlyn shrugs. “Just making conversation. I mean, we were supposed to be counselors this summer. But never too late to get to know someone, right?”

“I guess…”

“Nothing like a little trauma to speed up the bonding process…”

Laura can’t help but snort at the all-too-accurate statement. “Me and Max… It kinda feels like we’ve been together as long as I can remember. It’s your typical story: Met in high school, became high school sweethearts, survived through college together, and now…”

“...Trying to survive a werewolf curse?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Laura sighs heavily, coming to a stop on the walkway. She turns to face Kaitlyn, eyes cast towards the ground. “I don’t mean to like, dump all this on you, but… thing is, I don’t know what’s going to happen after all this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… plans for the future kind of stuff. Me and Max, we… we already had it all laid out, y’know? After we graduated from college we found a grad school we both really loved, had the courses we were both looking for… Seemed like the best way to go. I got in, and then… Max, he…”

“...He didn’t?”

“He didn’t even tell me,” Laura complained. “I found the damn rejection letter in the car on the way up here… It’s just… we had centered everything around us going there together, and now…”

Kaitlyn gave Laura a sympathetic smile. “You want my advice?”

“Sure,” Laura answers. 

“Now, I’m just an objective third party of course, but going from what you told us back at the pool house? I think you guys are going to be okay regardless. Shit, I mean… Here you are, right? In the middle of this dark and creepy quarry, about to straight up murder a guy so you can save Max from a curse. Oh, and this is after he’s already taken a chunk out of your hand, thereby also infecting you, and on top of that, clawed out your eye.”

“Well, I mean… Yeah?” Laura says as if it would be unthinkable for her not to be doing all that. 

“I’m just saying, that’s some serious devotion. If you guys can get through all that, then I think you guys can probably work out how to get around not being at the same school.”

“Huh…” Laura says softly, tilting her head in thought. “You know, it does sound pretty stupid when I think about it…”

Kaitlyn chuckled, stepping forward to give Laura a pat on the shoulder. “Nah… Sometimes it just helps to have someone else say it out loud. Let’s you look at it from another angle, y’know?”

“Well… I certainly appreciate it,” Laura says with a warm smile. “So, what about you?”

Kaitlyn’s brow shot up. “…What about me?”

“You got anyone special you’d be willing to… break out of a prison and hunt down a man-turned-werewolf for?”

Kaitlyn guffawed, ducking her head and shaking it side to side. “Me? No, no… Came to camp single, and I’m leaving the same way. Though, to be fair, so are Jacob and Emma… Difference is I didn’t get the sexy summer fling.”

“Uh… What?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Kaitlyn dismissed with a wave of her hand. “Point is: no, there isn’t someone.”

“Really? No one at the camp caught your attention?” Laura teased. “Granted, I’ve only met four of you so far, and… not in the most ideal of circumstances. But I mean… Uh, let’s see… Dylan seems…?”

“Gay.” 

“Oh,” Laura blanches. “Yeah, that probably wouldn’t work out…”

“Dude’s also got a massive thing for Ryan, so…”

“Ryan? Really?” Laura asks, seemingly not impressed with Dylan’s taste in men. 

“Uh…. You’ve seen him right?” Kaitlyn points out. 

“Oh, God…” Laura genuinely sounded disappointed in her. “Not you too… How the hell did that guy get you and Dylan crushing after him?”

“Look, you’ve only had like a twenty-minute time frame to make a judgment on him, okay?” Kaitlyn rushes to defend Ryan — and both hers and Dylan’s choice of men, it appeared. “We’ve known him for two months, when he’s not been under constant stress and dealing with the possibility of someone he looks up to being killed.”

Laura raised a hand in surrender, the other still wrapped around her gun. “Alright, alright, I’ll reserve judgment… I’m just saying, you could do better.”

Kaitlyn felt a rush of heat to her face, much to her surprise. She cleared her throat, awkwardly averting her gaze. “Not that it matters, anyway. Everything that’s happened tonight… Well, let’s just say Ryan and Dylan have been attached at the hip.”

“Do I hear a bit of jealousy there?”

“Maybe a little,” Kaitlyn admitted with a half smile. 

“Must have made the summer a little weird…” said Laura, grimacing at the thought. “Were things not awkward between you and Dylan? Liking the same guy?”

“Actually… No. We didn’t really address it all that much. Dylan, he… As much as likes to joke around, he’s honestly the sweetest guy. It’s impossible not to like him. Neither of us really made a move on Ryan the entire summer, so…” Kaitlyn exhaled heavily. “Honestly? It doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. Like… Okay, so earlier tonight, we were playing truth or dare around the fire. Before all this shit started going down, obviously. Anyway, Emma picked Ryan, and Ryan chose dare, and Emma dared Ryan to kiss either me or Dylan.”

“Sounds like neither of you made your crushes on Ryan all that subtle…”

“Apparently not…” Kaitlyn muttered. “So, Ryan ends up choosing Dylan. And I thought I’d be like… burning with jealousy or something. But I wasn’t. Maybe a tiny bit of disappointment, sure. But… The whole time leading up to Ryan choosing us, Dylan was practically vibrating out of his seat. Then after they kissed, oh man… If you had seen his face? Dude looked like he just won the lottery. Just… biggest smile on his face.”

Laura shook her head in disbelief. “Yeah… Not at all subtle…”

“He even giggled.”

“Serious?”

“Dead serious,” Kaitlyn says. “Kinda made me think… Maybe we weren’t both looking for the same thing? Don’t get me wrong, Ryan’s Ryan, and there was something about him that just… drew me in. But Dylan? You get the feeling he’s in it for the long haul, y’know? Like, you catch him looking at Ryan, and you just know the guy’s already thinking about what their weddings gonna be like.”

“That’s… kind of adorable, actually.”

“I know,” Kaitlyn groaned. “That’s the worse part; you can’t help but be happy for them.”

“Gotta say, Ryan did seem…” Laura paused, brow furrowed as she thought back to their interaction in the pool house. “…Not as much of an ass when he was talking with Dylan?”

Kaitlyn chuckled, giving Laura’s shoulder a friendly shove as she moved past her, continuing forward down the path. “What happened to ‘I’ll reserve judgment', huh?”

The end of the path, as it turns out, was right up ahead in front of them. They both stared down the creepy mining tunnel, only partly lit up by a lone lantern somewhere within the darkness. 

“Hmm… I don’t know.” Laura carried on from their last conversation. She reached out to the planks that were blocking their way, grabbing one and yanking it off like it was held in place by Velcro and not nails. “Maybe the werewolf trying to get out of me is more judgemental than aggressive.”

Kaitlyn watched as Laura continued to pull away the planks of wood with surprising ease. “As much as I’d rather you turn into a werewolf that criticizes my fashion choices over straight up eating me… I kind of doubt it.”

  * * *

  01:35 | AUGUST 23 — RYAN

HACKETT’S QUARRY LODGE

“Whoa… The hell happened here?”

Dylan’s voice echoed around the trashed interior of the lodge. Ryan kept in front of both him and Abi, gun secure in his hands as his eyes sweep around the entire room for anyone — or any thing— that wasn’t supposed to be here. 

“Oh my God… This must have been from Kaitlyn earlier,” Abi tells them, looking over to the furniture that had been thrown about. “After you guys went out to the radio hut, and those… hunters? I… I don’t know how many of them there were, but Kaitlyn ran into one of them… I didn’t realize this happened, though…”

“Well… She’s safe, now. As far as we know, anyway…” Dylan mumbled that last sentence. “Man, just look at this place… Mr. H is gonna be pissed when he sees this mess.”

“If he sees it,” Ryan corrects bitterly. 

Dylan glanced anxiously towards Abi, both unsure as to what to say. As much as they sympathized for Ryan… they couldn’t say that sympathy was entirely shared towards Mr. H. It wasn’t that they would ever wish death on anyone — even someone who was turning into a rabid beast once a month. But after everything that had happened tonight… The body in the lake… And who knows what else the Hacketts have been hiding, putting both kids and counselors alike in danger every summer as they attempt to hide this dirty secret of theirs…?

They didn’t want Mr. H dead… but if it was necessary?

They weren’t going to argue.

“Come on… We need to get out of here,” says Ryan, and Dylan can’t help but wince at the emotionless tone. He wanted to help Ryan, soothe him in some way, but… how? How could he? How do you cheer someone up who is dealing with the reality that someone he cares for — someone he trusted — not only betrayed him and put their lives at risk, but was now being hunted down? 

All three of them pile out of the lodge, Ryan still leading the way. The minivan was where it was the last they saw it, parked right outside. Which… of course it would be, it wasn’t working after all. They approach the van, that of which Dylan is still ninety percent sure a lost cause given how worked up Mr. H had gotten when he had taken a look. But before they can even think to get anywhere near the hood of the van, it rocks. They all stop, Ryan bringing up the gun on reflex as the van continues to make little rocking motions. 

“So… I know they say ‘if the vans rockin’, don’t come a-knockin', but uh… We should probably check that out, right?” Dylan whispers to Ryan, inching closer to him. 

“I- I don’t know,” Ryan replies. “I mean… We do need to try and see if we can get the minivan working… It’s the only option we got left of getting out of here.”

“It… It can’t be a werewolf, right?” Dylan asks. “Wait… Do they have thumbs? Do they know how to get into a car?”

“They could have been like Nick, and turned inside the car,” Abi offers, which doesn’t at all make them feel better about the situation. “Or it could be one of the hunters?”

“Right. Great. Okay, time to nearly get myself killed again…”

“Whoa - Whoa, wait,” Ryan reached out a hand, grabbing Dylan’s arm and stopping him as he made to move towards the van. “Are you sure?”

“Uh, no, I’m not sure, Ryan. This is like, horror movie trope number one. But you’re right: we do need to get the minivan working, so someone’s gotta check it.”

Ryan’s mouth flattened into an uncertain frown, glancing between Dylan and the still shifting van. “Alright, just… Be careful, okay? I don’t want to be performing emergency amputations again…”

Ryan reluctantly releases his hold on Dylan’s arm. “Just… be ready to shoot if something pops out, alright?” Dylan says before turning back towards the van, letting out a shaky breath as he once again approaches. “Preferably not me, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Ryan returns his hand to the grip of the shotgun, keeping it steady as he aims towards the van. Dylan creeps slowly forward, trying to peer through the darkened windows of the van but not finding much luck. He grabs hold of the handle, taking a deep breath in preparation and counting to three in his head. He pulls the handle out, yanking the door open to see--

“AHHHH!”

Both Dylan’s and Emma’s screams combine as the latter sprays a bottle of… something, directly into Dylan's open eyes. The pain is instantaneous, the burn of it bringing Dylan to his knees, eyes already streaming with tears. 

“AHHH! AH, SHE MACED ME, SHE MACED ME--” 

“Holy Shit, Emma stop!” Ryan jumps forward, caught between Dylan and Emma, unsure whether to go to Dylan — who was writhing on the floor in pain — or to Emma, and snatch the can out of her hands.

“Ahh! It burns… Ah- Ah…”

“Oh my God!” Emma saw through her haze of fear, recognizing who she had actually just attempted to blind. “I’m so sorry, Dylan! I’m so so sorry--”

Ryan hurried over to Dylan’s side, placing down the shotgun and kneeling down beside him, placing a hand on his back. “Holy shit, dude. Are you okay?”

“Ah, fuck…” Dylan managed to get back onto his knees, his only remaining fist curled up in pain and trembling by his scrunched eyes. “Fuck, I’m going blind--”

Abi hurried over to Emma, who was still staring at Dylan in shock. She opened her mouth to say something, but then stopped, taking a closer look at the bottle in Emma's hands. “Wait, it’s… it’s not mace!” 

Dylan’s eyes pop open, the whites of his eyes turned red and filled with tears. He looks to Ryan first, then over to Abi, blinking in surprise. “…What?”

Abi chuckles in relief, pointing to the spray can Emma was slowly starting to put down. “It’s not mace, it’s just air freshener! But I mean… probably still hurt, though.”

“Sorry…” Emma apologized again. “It was all I could find in the van…"

“Oh…” Dylan sheepishly glanced towards Ryan, who hung his head with a sigh of relief. “Uh, in my defense… It really fucking hurt.”

Ryan stifled a laugh, pushing himself up onto his feet. “Uh, yeah, it sounded like it.” He held out a hand to Dylan, who reached out and took the offered help. Dylan stumbled to his feet with Ryan’s aid, who gave Dylan’s back a reassuring thump as he rapidly blinked away the tears left over in his eyes. “You good?”

“Yep…” Dylan wiped a hand across his eyes. “Might have lost my hand, but at least I still got my eyes…”

  * * *

 Ryan’s hands were buried within the engine bay, quickly becoming dirtied with oil. He grunted in annoyance, slippery hands making it harder to move cables out of the way to get a better look at what might be wrong with this thing…

“Uh… Dylan?” Emma’s nervous laughter distracted him, glancing around the hood of the car to find Emma glancing between him, Abi, and Dylan’s hand. Or… lack thereof. “Your, uh…”

Dylan followed Emma’s line of sight, face falling and head dropping as he realized what she was talking about. “That’s… kinda my fault,” Ryan tells Emma, the statement forcing Dylan’s head back up. 

“Uh… Come again?” says Emma.

“Yeah, what she said,” Dylan agrees. “How is this your fault?”

“Well, I mean…” Ryan looks away, wiping his oil-covered hands across his jeans in an attempt to clean them. “I was the one that cut it off. I mean, I know you told me to, but…”

Emma stares dumbfounded at Dylan. “You… told him to cut your hand off..?”

“It’s… a long story,” Dylan says with a tired sigh. 

“Probably could have just added it to the insane one you just told me,” Emma suggested with a half shrug of her shoulders. “The whole time we thought those two were just no shows… they were in a jail cell? For two months?”

“The whole summer…” Abi muttered, shaking her head. “Here we were having fun, and they had been kidnapped…”

Ryan reaches up and grabs the lip of the van’s hood, pulling it closed. The other three glance over at the sound, looking at Ryan expectantly as he walks around the front of the van and back over to them. 

“You figure out what’s wrong?” Dylan asks.

“I think so,” Ryan answers, perplexed frown pinching at his brow. “Weird thing is, it’s not… broken. There’s a part missing.”

“Missing?” Emma repeats. “How is that possible?”

“I dunno…” Ryan glances back at the van, frown only deepening. “It’s not like it was gone before we got here, since we drove up in the thing.”

“Could the hunters have taken it?” Abi suggested. “We already know they were here cutting the phone lines and the power… Maybe they messed with the van too?”

“Maybe, but… when?” Dylan asks. “When would they have time to do it? There was so much activity outside the lodge with getting the kids ready to leave, I just… I don’t know if there would have been a time where they could have done it without us noticing?”

“Who knows how long the van hasn’t been working,” said Emma. “They could have done it at any point in the summer. It’s not like we would have noticed, right? Not until we actually needed the van.”

“Look, there’s not much point dwelling over how it was taken. We’ve gotta focus on fixing it,” Ryan says, turning around and picking up the shotgun from where he had propped it up against the side of the van.

“How?” Dylan asks. “If the parts missing--”

“--Then we need to replace it,” Ryan states, cutting Dylan off.

“Again… How?”

“The scrapyard,” Ryan answers. “Chris’s family owns it; it’s connected to the property. Caleb works there when he’s not…”

Dylan can’t resist. “…A werewolf?”

“Shut up,” Ryan says, but there’s not much heat in his voice. “Anyway, if we want a chance of getting out of here? Then that’s where we’re gonna have to go.”

Dylan sighs — loudly — not seeming too thrilled with the idea of heading out into the woods. Again. Likely to be chased down by a werewolf. Again. “I dunno, man… This seems like a bad idea.”

“It’s the only one we got,” Ryan points out. 

“I dunno… I kind of like the one where we all huddle together somewhere safe until morning. That seems like a good one.”

Ryan sighed, swinging the gun over his shoulder. “Okay, just… keep an eye out for each other, okay? I shouldn’t be gone too long--”

“Uh, back up there,” Dylan quickly interjected. “It almost sounds like you’re saying you’re planning on going to the scrapyard anyway?”

“Uh… Yeah?”

“Alone?” 

“...Yeah?”

Dylan looks at Emma and Abi, eyes wide as his face conveys the question of “you’re hearing this too, right?” at them. “Ryan, when I said ‘we all huddle together’, that does include you.”

“We’ve gotta at least try and get the van working,” Ryan insists. “The safest place to be is not here, and the van's the only way of getting there.”

“Yeah, but alone--”

“And with your hand, I… It’s probably best if you do stay here--”

“Oh no. Nuh-uh--” Dylan stepped towards Ryan, reaching out for the gun. Ryan stared at Dylan’s hand on the gun, then looked up to Dylan with an eyebrow raised in question.

 “Dude, what are you--?”

“The only one that gets to use my severed hand as an excuse is me,” Dylan asserts, trying to pull the gun out of Ryan’s grip. 

“Uh… That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“I know that, I’m just trying to show you that I’m ready to do this for you, Ryan. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go out there alone, okay? None. I’m coming with, and that’s that.” 

“But--”

“I’m not losing you, okay?”

Ryan didn’t even know what he could argue in response, too stunned by Dylan’s assertiveness and… well, what he’d just heard. Dylan drops his hand away from the gun, turning away from Ryan’s bewildered stare to address Emma and Abi. “I’m guessing you guys don’t wanna join us on the suicide mission?”

“Uh… No… No, we’re good, actually,” Emma answers for both her and Abi. 

“Smart,” Dylan assesses with a nod of his head. “Uh… You should probably go with my plan of huddling together until morning then… Maybe in the storm shelter? Seems like the best option.”

“Okay…” Abi and Emma turn to go towards the shelter, the former stopping to look at the two, clearly worried. “Just… be careful you two, okay?”

“We will,” Ryan says at the same time Dylan answers with, “No promises.”

The comment gets him a deserved elbow in the ribs from Ryan. 

  * * *

  01:44 | AUGUST 23 — KAITLYN

HACKETT HOUSE BASEMENT

The eerie red light spilling out from the hallway up ahead into the creepy abandoned rum distillery they were currently standing in was as much a sign of ‘DANGER, KEEP OUT!’ as any sign could be. But, it was the only way forward, so… Looks like they were heading into danger…

Kaitlyn makes her way forward, breath held in anticipation of what they’re about to walk into. She nearly stops in the doorway at the sight of the large cages taking up most of the room, lit up only by the red light buzzing away above them. The most important thing about it though was that in one of the cages was one of the werewolves, curled up on the floor and seemingly… asleep? And in the other cage…

“Oh my God, Jacob!” Kaitlyn whispers, trying her best to run over to Jacob’s cage without making any noise. Jacob sat cross-legged on the floor, looking lost in his own thoughts as he stares into nothing. Kaitlyn drops down in front of him, trying to catch his eye and snap him back to reality. “Jake! Hey, come on! It’s me! It’s Kaitlyn.”

Jacob snaps to attention at her voice, bleary eyes flicking up to meet hers. The haziness clears almost immediately, lighting up at the sight of her. “Kaitlyn? Kaitlyn! Thank God--”

“The hell happened to you?” Kaitlyn asks as Jacob scrambles to his feet, looking a lot more alive and aware than he did a few seconds ago, some hope kicked back into him. 

“Fucking hunter guys got me. I stepped in one of their stupid traps, look--” Jacob bends down, pointing to his gnarled leg. 

“Jesus--” Kaitlyn leans closer to get a better look, wincing at the sight of it. The puncture wounds around his calf had become swollen and bruised, perhaps no longer bleeding but had clearly bled a bit judging by the sheen of red covering his lower leg. Then again, it could have been the red light making it look worse than it did, but still, it didn’t exactly look good. 

“Alright, hang on, let’s get you out of here--” Kaitlyn hurries towards the door to the cage, reaching out for the handle when--

“Kaitlyn, wait!” Laura hisses, grabbing her hand to stop her.

“What?”

“Might want to reconsider that, unless you feel like getting fried,” Laura whispers, looking pointedly at the sign above the door of the cage. Kaitlyn followed her line of sight, feeling eternally grateful when she sees the big, bold warning sign for electrocution.

“Fuck… That was close,” Kaitlyn mutters. Laura releases her grip on Kaitlyn’s hand, turning her attention towards the other occupant of the cages, whilst Kaitlyn returns to Jacob’s side. 

“Are you okay? Other than the leg thing, I mean?”

Jacob huffs, throwing up his arms. “I’ve been better. But… I’m not one of them, so…” Jacob goes to gesture towards the beast in the other cage, but then stops, frowning at what he sees. “Uh… What’s she doing?”

The question of what Jake’s talking about is on Kaitlyn's lips, turning her head to the side only to see Laura advancing towards the cage, towards the slumbering wolf, determination set in her eyes as she slowly lifts up the shotgun--

“Laura, wait--” Kaitlyn jumps towards her, pushing down the gun before Laura could pull the trigger. Laura turns to her, determination turned to irritation, but she keeps the gun down never the less. 

“Why? This is it! This is our chance to kill Chris!”

“We don’t know if it is!” Kaitlyn argues, hand still on the gun just in case. “Why would his family keep him in one of these cages? I know you’re not Ryan’s biggest fan, but I’m hoping you at least like me enough to just… wait? Please? I promised Ryan we’d find answers first, and as much as I am on your side about what we should do… We should at the very least make sure this is actually Mr. H, right? For all we know, this could be Nick! Hell, maybe these guys even found Max on the island and brought him here.”

Some of Laura’s confidence wilters at that, eyes darting nervously to the wolf on the ground. 

“It… It did seem like those traps were set up to catch… not people," Jacob adds to their conversation. “There was like… a boar head they were using as… I dunno, bait? I guess? And- oh!” Jacob's voice lit up as he realized something. “When they were locking me in here, they said they had ‘two of us accounted for’, and since I’m very much not one of those things…”

“We should assume this is not one of the Hackett’s,” Kaitlyn fills in the gaps.

Laura sighs in defeat, dropping the shotgun to her side. “Okay… Okay, you’re probably right.”

“I wish I wasn’t. Would make this a whole lot easier if this was Mr. H…”

“Uh, excuse me?” Jacob held up a finger. “Can you fill me in as to why we’re wanting to kill Mr. H? What did he do?”

“Long story,” Kaitlyn answers. “For now, let’s focus on getting you out of here. Preferably without me being electrocuted…”

“Right, right…” Jacob drops his hand, moving closer to the cage’s bars, careful not to touch it. “Okay, so, uh… the- the box!” Jacob points to a fuse box installed into the wall behind them. “One of the old hunter dudes used that to open the doors when they were putting me in here. Use that and see if you can open my door, and then the middle door.” Jacob paused, looking over to his werewolf cage mate, and then back to Kaitlyn. “Just not that door.”

“Gotcha,” Kaitlyn made her way over to the fuse box. There were numbers posted next to four separate switches: 1, 2, 3, and 4. She turns back to the cages, taking note of the numbers above each door: ‘7’ over the werewolves cage, ‘5’ over the middle cage, and ‘3’ over Jacob’s cage. “Would sure be helpful if there were three labeled ‘seven’, ‘five’ and ‘three’ to choose from…”

Kaitlyn’s hand hovers over the box, trying to figure out which switches to pull down… She could easily get this wrong... Okay… Okay, she can do this. If they’re not directly labeled, then the next logical method was…

“Oh…” She breathes in both realization and relief, the answer smacking her in the face. “Oh, it’s addition…” She reaches for the ‘1’ switch, pulling it down. Then, she grabs the ‘2’ switch, pulling that down as well. 

There’s a creak of metal behind her, and she looks over her shoulder to see that Jacob’s cage door had opened. Jacob almost jumps for joy, turning his excited face to Kaitlyn. “You did it! Alright, now the middle one!”

Kaitlyn nods, turning her attention back to the breaker box. Now, this was really where she couldn’t mess up. It would be bad enough if she opened the middle one and the werewolf’s one, unleashing it onto herself. But now that Jacob’s door is opened, if she opens the werewolf’s cage…

Kaitlyn steels herself, pulling down the ‘2’ switch. It sparks, but doesn’t shock her. She moves to the ‘3’ switch, sending up a short prayer before too pulling that down…

“Yes!” Jacob hisses in celebration, the middle door swinging open. Jacob hustles out of his temporary prison, perhaps slowing down a little as passes the wolf’s cage, shivers rushing down his spine as he stares the sleeping creature down. He barely has the time to look back up before Kaitlyn is colliding into him, not at all phased by his half-naked condition or the repulsive smell that came with being covered in werewolf blood. 

“Thank God you’re okay…” Kaitlyn wraps her arms tight around her childhood friend, who was not at all expecting such affection. 

“Yeah… Same here.” Jacob returns the embrace, letting himself feel a bit of peace and calm. “Uh, not thank God that I’m okay, but that you’re okay. I mean, I’m grateful I’m okay too, but, uh--”

Kaitlyn chuckles softly, pulling away from Jake with a fond smile. “I got what you meant.”

“So… What happens now?” Jacob asks. “And… who’s the chick with the gun?”

“Oh, that’s Laura.” Kaitlyn flickers her head in Laura’s direction, who was currently sitting at the bottom of the ladder. “Uh, to make a long story short… She and her boyfriend were the counselors that didn’t show up. Turns out they did show up, but Mr. H and his family are… kind of werewolves. Her boyfriend got bit, then Mr. H’s brother — who’s a cop, by the way — kidnapped them and locked them up the two months we were here at camp. He eventually explained what was happening to them--”

“Barely…” Laura mumbled. 

“Barely,��� Kaitlyn added to her explanation. “And found out that the only way to cure yourself is to kill the wolf that bit you.”

“With silver…”

“With silver.”

“On a full moon…”

“On a full moon.”

“Uh…” Jacob looked between Laura and Kaitlyn, shaking his head. “Okay?”

“Mr. H is… kinda the one that bit Max. Her boyfriend. She thought she had killed Mr. H, but she… sorta… killed Kaylee instead.”

Jacob gave one big blink, eyes wide. “…Mr. H’s daughter?”

“Also a werewolf,” Laura helpfully supplied. “And then I got bit by Max because I thought this was all over.”

“So now we’re trying to find Mr. H somewhere in here and… end this for good,” Kaitlyn finished the explanation, hand on her hip. “Which, hopefully, should mean Nick and anyone else that got bit will be cured too.”

“Anyone… else?” Jacob asked. “Who else would be bit?”

“No one, as far as I’m aware. Everyone’s accounted for, except…”

Jacob noted the hesitation from Kaitlyn. “…Except… who?”

“Jake, um… We… We never found Emma. And… I’m guessing you didn’t either?”

“Oh… Fuck!” Jacob curses, grasping strands of hair in his hands. “She was… Last time I saw her, we were being attacked by one of those things… She fell into the goddamn stream, I… Fuck.”

“She might be okay…” Kaitlyn tried to assure Jacob, but she didn’t sound too confident herself.

“If she fell in the water, she’s safer than any of us,” said Laura. “Poem, remember? ‘It stalks your breath, but shuns clear water…’ The streams all run towards the Quarry's lake, right? If she was in the water, no werewolves would be following her.”

Jacob manages to calm down a little at that, at least enough to stop attempting to pull the roots of his hair out. 

“Or… could be her in that cage…”

“Laura!” Kaitlyn hisses. 

“What?” Laura tries to defend herself, not seeing the problem with what she said. “Either she fell in the water, meaning no werewolf following her, so she should be safe. Or she’s in the cage which, honestly, is probably the second safest place you can be.”

Kaitlyn shakes her head, Laura’s words whilst making sense… not particularity comforting. 

“Look, Jake, I’d say come with us, but… chances are we’re just walking into more danger up there. Best thing for you is probably to go find the others, and… hopefully, find Emma with them, too.”

Jacob nods his head at Kaitlyn’s instructions, though a worried frown still pulls at his lips. “Yeah… Yeah, okay…”

“We came in through that way,” she tells him, pointing towards the rum stills. “Well… fell in is more accurate. Hopefully, you’ll be able to find another way out.”

“You, uh… You wouldn’t happen to have another gun hidden on you, would you?” Jacob asks. 

“Afraid not. Just…” Kaitlyn paused, her concern getting the better of her for a moment. “Be extra careful, alright? With any luck… we’ll have ended this curse before you’re even out of here.”

“Here’s hoping…”

Kaitlyn darted forward, wrapping Jacob up in one last hug. “Be safe, okay? Don’t be an idiot or a hero about anything.”

Jacob manages a laugh at that, despite the shitty evening. He gently pats Kaitlyn's back, hoping to god this wouldn’t be the last time he sees her. “Trust me, I’m done being the hero tonight. Idiot, though…? Still on the table.”

Kaitlyn lets go, watching as Jacob limps out of the room and into the darkness of the next. Was it too much to ask of this shitty night that Jake gets back to the lodge and meets up with the others with no problems whatsoever? Most likely… But hey, one can only hope, right?

Laura’s still waiting for her, though now she’s part way climbed up the ladder, ear tilted towards the closed trapdoor above her head. Kaitlyn inches closer, straining her hearing to try and figure out what Laura was listening out for. And then she hears it… Muffled and almost indistinguishable, but right about them…

“I’m a police officer!”

“Oooh, so now I’m blind! You motherfucker!”

Kaitlyn’s brow flies up, exchanging startled looks with Laura. She didn’t recognize either voice, but she didn’t need to recognize who was speaking to know they were super pissed about something. 

“Now I’m blind… Oh, you just flashing that badge around like it’s worth a million dollars. Only reason you got it is because Hank got killed in that gypsy fire.”

“Ma--”

“Don’t ‘Ma’. Don’t ‘Ma’ me.”

“Would you sit down, please?”

“Don’t you tell me what to do--”

“Please--”

“--And don’t you go round- don’t you go round like you better than everybody else, coz you ain't!”

“Would you please sit down?”

“Don’t you tell me what to do, you piece of shit!”

Silence follows the aggravated woman’s last words. The end of the argument? Laura shifts on the ladder, trying to get closer to the door to get a better listen, unsure whether the conversation was over or if they were talking quieter, and they had only been hearing them because they were yelling…

In a blink, the trapdoor has been thrown open, and a hand’s darting down and grabbing Laura painfully by her hair. Kaitlyn nearly falls backward at the suddenness of it, no idea what she should be doing. Does she fight them off? Sure, but with what? Laura had the gun… And likely not for long. 

“Kaitlyn, run!”

Yep, yep that’s what she should be doing. 

“Ma, send Bobby down!”

Kaitlyn’s numbed legs take a moment to kick into gear, and then she’s running. She’s running past the cages, towards the darkness Jacob had disappeared into not long ago. If she’s lucky, she can catch up with him… 

A towering beast of a man emerges from the dark, bringing Kaitlyn to a skidding stop. It was him… The same asshole that snatched her gun away back in the lodge. Not hunters… but Hackett’s. Bobby, she’s assuming, given what the guy above was yelling down here. She stands, frozen like a deer in the headlights, unable to do a thing as the man advances toward her. There was nothing she could do. Nowhere she could run to. She might be able to outrun him, but given the rifle slung over his shoulder and the knife brandished in his hands…

“Where do you think you’re going?” The man smiles at her in a way that sends her body into full body chills — and not the good kinds. 

“Uh…”

She doesn’t even get a chance to answer his rhetorical question before the man — Bobby — is lunging forward, large hand wrapped around the back of her neck. Kaitlyn struggled against the hold, but instinctively freezes up at the tightening of his grip, and the sharp pinch of a knife being pressed against her side. 

“Fuck… Let me go, asshole--”

“Can’t. You’re not supposed to be down here. None of you was supposed to be here at all.”

“Just… fuck, would you just--”

The loud bang of a gunshot going off dries up any words in Kaitlyn’s mouth. Both her and Bobby’s heads snap up to the ceiling, the gunshot swiftly followed by a heavy sounding ‘thump’ against the wooden floor above. 

Bobby doesn’t say anything, just pushes her forward towards the ladder. She has no choice but to climb up the ladder — though it’s more Bobby dragging her up the ladder like she weighs less than a feather, flinging open the trapdoor and pushing them both up. 

She nearly vomits at the sight that greets them.

There’s a woman on the floor, presumably the one that had grabbed Laura — and had been screaming her head off mere minutes ago. Any chance Kaitlyn has of recognizing her is null and void given that her face had been turned to mush, nothing more than a hollowed-out skull filled with pulverized meat and buckshot, thick, dark, and fresh blood spilling out from the gaping wound. 

“EVERYBODY STOP!” A man — a goddamn police officer yells out. Kaitlyn can just about make him out through the darkness of the room, along with another man next to him. He seemed much older than the cop though, looking every bit his age as he falls to his knees in front of the woman. 

“What the fuck is going on up here?” Bobby’s voice booms from next to her ear. The police officer strikes a match alight, using it to light up a lamp and, unfortunately, give them all a better look at exactly what was going on. 

“Oh wake up, wake up…” The old man's voice trembles as his hands pump up and down on the woman’s chest, trying his best to perform CPR. You didn’t have to be medically trained to know that a shotgun blast to the face wasn’t something you’d be able to resuscitate someone from… But grief does strange things to the mind. “Darlin’, come on, wake up. Wake up… Wake up.”

His attempts come to a stop, head hung over the corpse — his wife if Kaitlyn had to guess. He slowly cranes his head back up, tear-filled eyes landing on them.“Oh… She’s gone, little Bobby. Mamma’s gone!”

Laura twitches her head in Kaitlyn’s direction, a look of ‘we’re fucked’ if Kaitlyn’s ever seen one gracing her features. She wasn’t even holding the shotgun anymore… 

“Killed her… No!” They both look over at the old man as he stumbles to his feet. His eyes were wide, glazed over like he wasn’t even taking in what he was seeing. “No more pr- No more… protecting anyone, Travis.”

If this entire night had been the Hackett’s ‘protecting’ them… Then what was going to come next was really gonna suck. 

Kaitlyn’s eyes meet hers, and with one look, Kaitlyn knows… There was an apology in those eyes. There’s a beat, and then Laura’s running. She’s taken off, sprinting out of the room and down the hallway. Kaitlyn leans to the side, unable to see Laura once she’s past the door. But she does see as the old man slides a gun out from his side, cocks it, takes aim, and pulls the trigger. 

The gunshot rings out, and Kaitlyn holds her breath, waiting for the inevitable sound of a body hitting the ground.

 But that doesn’t happen. 

Instead, there’s a knife sliding into her side. 

She’s not even sure if she screams or not. The pain is sudden and sharp, almost like a very severe electric shock. Then it’s hot, burning pain radiating from her ribs like he had stabbed her with a hot iron instead of a knife. Even if Bobby hadn’t shoved her to the ground, she likely would have ended up there anyway, legs turned to jelly in both her shock and agony. 

It’s nothing but pure adrenaline that gets Kaitlyn up to her feet, though even then it still feels like she could collapse back to the floor at any moment. Thankfully, all the Hacketts had left the room, so at the very least Laura was still alive, since surely the only reason they’d do that would be to chase after her. 

She struggles over to what she was fairly certain was an actual honest to god dumbwaiter door, quickly opening it up and clambering on in. She winces with every movement, barely able to reach up and pull the door closed. 

Yep, she was right… 

What came next did indeed suck.

  * * *

  02:10 | AUGUST 23 — DYLAN

HACKETT’S QUARRY EXIT ROAD

The woods leading to the Hackett-owned scrapyard looked… just about how every patch of woods looked like. And it was precisely because of that, that Dylan couldn’t tell you with a hundred percent certainty if they were heading to the scrapyard and not just… out for a midnight stroll in the woods. Was it even midnight? Had to be later than that, right? Did time even fucking matter anymore…

“You’ve been to the scrapyard before, right?” Dylan makes sure he’s within arms reach of Ryan as they walk, wanting to be close to the person that’s both armed and yielding their only light source. Well, that and… other reasons. 

“Huh? Oh…” Ryan shook his head, seemingly preoccupied with other thoughts. “Me? No, never actually been there. Chris has mentioned it to me a few times before though, uh… Said it’s a good source of extra income. Helps… keep them afloat during the offseason.”

“Right… I don’t know why, I just… kinda assumed Mr. H would have like… asked you if you wanted to help out there or something.”

“Nah, that’s… The scrapyards more of a ‘family-run business', I guess. I don’t think Chris himself actually works it, but, like I said before, Caleb would help out down there. I think it’s one of Chris’s brothers that actually runs it.”

“Huh. That’s… kinda weird, right?”

Ryan throws him a frown over his shoulder. “Not… really? Loads of people have family-run businesses.”

“Yeah, but… not letting anyone else but family work there?”

“It’s not like that,” Ryan argued. “I’m sure if I asked Chris, he would have let me work there. He just never asked coz I never asked. He knows I’m already kinda uncomfortable having to leave my sister with my grandparents every summer, so… there’d be no point in asking me to stay any longer.”

“Oh. Uh… I… Didn’t know that.”

Ryan just grunted in response, returning his gaze forward. Was this… something he should press Ryan on further? No, probably not… That grunt didn’t exactly sound like a ‘please, invite me to discuss this more with you’ kind of grunt. 

“Gotta admit, it seems kind of tempting to just go past the scrapyard to the main road and then… keep on walking.”

“We’d be walking a long time,” Ryan points out. “And that long time would be just walking to the main road. It’d probably take us days to reach anywhere, and given how little traffic runs through here…”

“Stop finding flaws in my plans, Ryan. You’re supposed to just nod and agree with me.”

Ryan actually stopped in his tracks, turning to face Dylan with a look of disbelief. “Last time I did that, you lost a hand.”

Dylan gestured to… the entirety of himself. “And I’m alive, aren’t I?” 

“Can’t argue with you there…” Ryan mumbles. He glances away and out to the seemingly never-ending forest they were standing in, peering into the thick fog that had settled around them. “I think we're pretty close now anyway.”

“Great,” Dylan sighs. A strong gust of wind blows between the trees, the touch of it irritating Dylan’s already irritated eyes. He winces, bringing up a hand to try and wipe away the fresh tears that spring to his eyes, cursing softly under his breath as that annoying stinging pain returns. 

“Your eyes okay?” He hears Ryan ask. 

“Yeah, I think so…” Dylan mumbled in answer, Ryan’s blurry concerned face coming into view as he drops his hand down. He blinks a few times to try and clear his vision, waiting for the sting to eventually subside. “They just flare up every now and then.”

“Probably should have washed them out with some water before we left…” Ryan realizes perhaps a little too late. 

“They’ll be fine.” Dylan brushes off his concern. “I’ve been through worse.”

“Unfortunately, that’s very true,” Ryan agrees with a sad smile that barely pulled up the corner of his lips. “How is, uh… How’s your arm? Painkillers still working?”

“Eh, for the most part.” Dylan lifts up his amputated arm, bringing it up to eye level. The words ‘It’s fine’ are right there on the tip of his tongue, but Dylan can’t force them out. He can’t help but somewhat deflate as he looks to what remains of his hand, which Ryan seems to notice, given the regretful look in his eyes. 

“It’s just… taking me a while to get used to this being ‘me’, now.”

“Well… Yeah, of course. It’s a pretty damn big change,” Ryan states. “No one’s expecting you to just… shrug it off. Honestly, I… I’m amazed at how well you’ve kept it together this whole evening… Not sure I’d be handling it all that well if I were in your shoes…”

“Uh, you? Come on,” Dylan gives Ryan a disbelieving smile. “You’ve been ‘Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected’ all night. Except maybe when you were chopping my hand off, but it would have been a little weird if you did that like… straight-faced and calm, so…”

“Oh, yeah, I was full-on panicking dude,” Ryan easily admits, getting a quiet chuckle from Dylan. “About as far from calm as you can get…”

“Well, you stayed calm enough to get it off and make sure I didn’t bleed to death, so I’d say you were fine.”

Ryan huffed, not quite believing that. “Yeah… I mean, obviously would have preferred it if I hadn’t done that, but… it kept you alive. Or…not one of those things, I guess.”

“Definitely one of the pros,” Dylan agrees with an over enthusiastic nod of his head. But the typical carefree smile he easily gives out doesn’t remain on his face for long. “Cons are… not so great. I’m just… I don’t want people to treat me differently, you know?”

“...Different how?”

“Like…” Dylan lifts his stub back up, eyes downcast as he looks over it. “Like yeah, this is a part of me now. But I don’t want it to become me. Like it’s… the first thing people see. Or the first thing they think about when they think about me. I won’t be Dylan anymore, I’ll be ‘that guy from class who has no hand…’ I know it’s stupid, but--”

“It’s not stupid,” Ryan assures him softly. Dylan’s mouth just barely manages to curl up, thankful that Ryan was lending an ear. 

“I don’t want the pity either,” Dylan continues. “And I know I’ll get it. Worst part is I know people are just doing it to be kind, but… I just wanna feel normal. I wanna be treated like I’m normal. And then of course there’s gonna be the assholes who think it’s funny and see me as… weak or something.”

“Some people are always gonna be dicks,” Ryan helpfully supplies, which earns him a snort of surprise from Dylan. “But… losing the hand is almost a good thing when you think about it. I mean, you wouldn’t want to be friends with the people who’d treat anyone like that, right? The missing hand will almost be like a, uh… like a filter. Let’s you see people’s true colors earlier than you usually would; single out the assholes and remove them from your life.”

Dylan hummed, glancing back down to his injured arm. He hadn’t looked at it that way… "Huh... So my hand will be like... An asshole radar?"

"...Please don't call it that."

Dylan flashes Ryan a toothy smile, lightly chuckling at Ryan's failed attempt not to smile back. “So it… Doesn’t bother you then?” Dylan musters up the courage to ask. 

“What? No,” Ryan answers, wondering why on earth Dylan would think it would. 

“Cool, cool…” Dylan mutters, nodding his head. “And, uh… Would you… Date a guy with one hand?”

Ryan’s confused frown all but disappeared, flattening out as he got what Dylan was trying to hint at. He had to bite down hard on his tongue to fight back the smile trying to break through, forcing his eyes away from Dylan’s expectant face before he loses the battle completely. “I mean… It’d depend on the guy, I suppose. I tend to look for more qualities in a guy than… whether he’s in possession of both hands or not…”

Dylan choked out a nervous laugh, swaying back and forth as he nodded once more. “Yeah, okay, that’s… that’s fair. So, uh… Let’s just say there’s this totally hypothetical guy who, hypothetically, doesn’t have a hand. What, um… What kinds of qualities would this guy need to have for you to be… interested?”

Ryan exhaled sharply from his nose. “Hypothetical, huh?”

“Yep. Just… a hypothetical guy.”

“Okay, so… Uh, I guess this hypothetical guy is kind. Has a good heart. He’s… always wanting to do right by others, y’know.”

“Makes sense.”

“And, uh… he’s… funny. He’s the kind of guy that makes it his job to ensure everyone around him is smiling or laughing... And although sometimes he goes a little overboard with it and sometimes says one too many… He usually succeeds. At least… he makes me laugh, so…”

“Okay, so… kind and funny. Okay, uh… anything… anything else?”

Ryan opened his mouth to continue but then paused, hesitating for just a moment. His eyes dropped down to the ground, index finger tapping repeatedly against the side of the shotgun in his hands. Then, it stilled, eyes flicking back up to meet Dylan’s. “He’s tall,” Ryan utters quietly, and Dylan’s heart stops for just a second. “Not that that’s a requirement, but… this hypothetical guy just happens to be.”

“Oh…” Dylan’s mouth had suddenly gone very dry. 

“And he’s so worried about what others might think of him that he hides most of himself, forcing to the front the parts of him he thinks people will like. I think… we can kind of relate, in that way. Which is kinda ironic, since when I think about this guy, I can’t believe he could ever think that. That… there isn’t a single part of him that people wouldn’t love.”

For perhaps the first time this night, Dylan doesn’t have a single comment to make. His heart definitely wasn’t stopping now, and had instead picked up a fast rhythm against his ribcage. They were already standing close together at the beginning of their talk, but the distance between them is made even smaller as Ryan takes a tentative step closer. Dylan stops breathing completely, eyes quickly dipping down to Ryan’s mouth and then back to his eyes - that of which seems to have done the exact same thing. The thoughts of who was going to move first race through Dylan’s mind, along with if either of them were going to move, or if he even should. Does he… does he ask? Or should he just… just lean down and--

Some bird practically screeches as it takes flight from some shrub right behind them, and they both startle back so hard that Dylan nearly trips backward over his own feet. Ryan’s bringing up the shotgun immediately, aiming the flashlight into the bushes. “It’s okay… Just a bird.”

“Sure, yeah… Just a bird…” Dylan says. “Scaring the absolute crap out of me…”

“We should probably keep moving,” Ryan suggests. Maybe Dylan was looking for things that weren’t there, but he could swear he saw a little hint of disappointment flash across Ryan’s face… Ryan lowered the shotgun back down, but kept it in his hands rather than over his shoulder as he turned back down the path they were heading. “Maybe we scared the bird… Or something else scared it off…”

Dylan took just a few seconds to sigh to himself, watching Ryan’s retreating form. He shook his head, glancing back over to where the bird had been, a few twigs and branches still shuffling about from its takeoff. 

“Great… Nice one, Dylan. You got cock-blocked by a goddamn bird.”

#dylan/ryan #ryan x dylan #dylan x ryan #radioheads #The Quarry #the quarry game #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #the quarry spoilers

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#the quarry game #the quarry #ryan erzahler #dylan lenivy #kaitlyn ka #jacob custos #abigail blyg #emma mountebank #nick furcillo #i cant stop making these

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#the quarry #the quarry game #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #dylan/ryan #radioheads #ryan x dylan #drylan

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The First... Chapter 3: The First...(Of Many) Late Night Talks

Pairings: Dylan Lenivy/Ryan Erzahler

Chapter Word Count: 7,458

Overall Word Count: 19,178

Status: Multi-Chapter - In Progress (3/?)

Chapter Preview:

It was three in the morning. Just because he can’t sleep from his nightmares doesn’t mean he should interrupt Ryan’s… That wasn’t fair to him. And Ryan’s probably feeling just as exhausted as he is after all those interviews…

Dylan’s fingers twitch by his side, still wanting to just reach forward and knock, but kept held back. He just… He just wanted to see him. Hear his voice. He just…

Wanted to be with Ryan.

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“Oh, crap… It pulled the wire…”

Dylan stared up at the ceiling of the hut, clouds of dust raining down from… whatever the hell that thing is walking across the roof, kicking it loose with every booming step. He could see the wire in question hanging free from the wall, so close yet seeming so very, very far…

“Fix it. I’ll cover you.” Ryan was glancing out the window to the hut, shotgun held in hand, looking for any signs of the beast prowling outside the cabin. “Do it now! Go, quickly!”

Dylan scrambled up onto the desk at Ryan’s frantic words, the knowledge that he was stood right next to him and keeping a careful eye out giving Dylan that extra little boost of bravery. He winces with the effort as he stretches up to the wire, barely able to reach it despite his tall frame. He couldn’t quite see it, having to go by feel instead, patting around at where the wire should be…

Hold on… He’s… He’s been here before. He’s experienced this. This… This already happened. Any second now, he’ll be feeling the sharp pain of teeth sinking into his palm. He’ll feel himself be slammed into the roof over and over again as the creature tries to pull him through, desperate to get a taste of the rest of him, barely able to hear Ryan yelling his name past his own screams.

But it doesn’t happen. 

The wire brushes against Dylan’s fingertips and he finally gets a good grip on it, plugging it back into the socket it had slipped out of. He sighs from the exertion, muscles relaxing as he drops his hand back down. Ryan lowers the shotgun down, barrel pointed to the ground as he asks, “What now? What else do you need to do—”

The roof collapses with a deafening cacophony of splintering wood, the beast crashing straight through. Dylan just about manages to leap back out of the way of the falling debris, collapsing down onto the desk and knocking most of the radio equipment off in the process. There’s nothing he can do but sit there mouth agape in horror as the creature lands on Ryan, sending them both careening to the ground. 

“RYAN!” He isn’t even able to finish screaming Ryan’s name before it happens. Through the haze of dust in the air, Dylan is forced to watch as the beast gives one big swipe of its claws… and it’s all over. Those razor-sharp daggers slice clean through his throat, and Ryan’s shocked yelp turns to a strangled sound of him choking, drowning as his windpipe is flooded with his own blood. There’s a sickening sound of bones crunching as the thing on top of him sinks its teeth into Ryan’s ribcage, ripping out chunks of flesh and feasting upon him. 

The creature takes a pause from its meal, snout raised in the air as it takes a few deep inhales, sniffing the air. It plucks what remains of Ryan from the floor with unnatural strength, flinging him to the other side of the room like a ragdoll. Then, slowly, it cranes its head around, piercing red eyes meeting Dylan’s tear-filled ones. It opens its mouth to snarl at him, yellowed teeth and pale skin stained red with Ryan’s blood, and that’s the last thing Dylan see’s before it’s lunging at him—

Dylan wakes with a strangled gasp, shooting upright in the hotel bed. He had managed to kick the sheets off of him completely, leaving the bare skin of his legs and arms exposed to the AC just above his head. The cold air blowing out of it caressed his clammy skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface. It also makes him aware of a trail of wetness on his face, bringing up trembling fingers to his eyes and wiping away the tears he found there. 

He blows out a shaky breath from his mouth, pulling his legs towards him and burying his face into his hand. A sharp and painful twinge of pain in his left arm makes it twitch, pulling his face out of his hands with a wince. He looks down at it like he’s expecting to see something that would be causing it pain, but… funnily enough, there isn’t. It’s kind of the fact that nothing’s there that’s causing the pain. 

The room was pitch black thanks to the blackout curtains pulled across the windows, blocking out any light from the street lamps and cars below. The windows weren’t soundproof though, but it wasn’t much of a problem. The soft murmur of engines was more of a background noise than a hindrance, kind of like white noise that had helped lull him to sleep. 

Dylan reaches out his good hand over to the side table, patting at the wooden surface to find his phone. He pulls it towards him, charger cable still connected, and proceeds to blind himself as he unlocks the screen. Probably shouldn't have left it on full brightness before going to sleep. He squints past the sharp eye ache the glaring light instantaneously gave him, quickly lowering the brightness so he could actually see what the time was instead of just a wall of piercing light. 

The numbers ‘3:17AM’ stare right back at him, and Dylan chucks his phone back onto the nightstand with a groan that was half relief and half annoyance. Half annoyance because this was becoming a common theme now that he wasn’t too fond of — waking up repeatedly throughout the night either due to his stub acting up or because of the nightmares. Then again, he supposed they could be connected… Perhaps the pain in his arm was manifesting itself as nightmares in his unconscious mind…?

Either way, the only relief he got in seeing that he was awake at this god-awful time was that enough time had passed that he could take another dosage of painkillers. Dylan pulls himself out of bed, wearily heading to the bathroom — in particular to the mirror cabinet where he was currently storing what felt like the pharmacy’s entire stock of drugs the doctors had prescribed for him. He slaps the light switch, turning on the annoyingly bright lights with a grimace. It takes his tired mind a moment to find the right bottle, shaking out a few of the miracle pills and popping them into his mouth. He forgoes getting a glass, instead just sticking his face under the tap and getting a mouthful of water to swallow the pills down that way. 

Dylan turns the lights back out, nearly tripping over one of the room’s chairs he didn’t remember pulling out of place as he makes his way back to the bed in the dark. He flops down onto the bed with an exhausted groan, hoping this time he might fall into a dreamless sleep. But the moment he closes his eyes, those awful images are projected on the back of his eyelids. Back in the radio hut. Ryan, falling to the ground with that werewolf on top of him. Ryan, letting out a gurgled scream as it tears his throat apart. Ryan, laid out on the ground, eyes empty and lifeless as the wolf makes a meal out of him--

Dylan’s eyes pop back open, not finding much comfort in the dark of the room. This was pointless… No way was he going to be able to get back to sleep. But… God, was he exhausted. And turning on the shitty TV box in the corner of the room and flipping through channel upon channels of garbage didn’t sound too appealing either. He should sleep. He needs to sleep. The doctors had pounded it into his head, ‘sleep was the biggest step towards recovery’. 

They were just nightmares… That’s all. All fake. Just his mind creating images to scare him as he sleeps. None of that actually happened… Ryan wasn’t killed by that thing. He’s alive.

He… He is alive… right…?

No, no, this was stupid. He knew Ryan was okay. He had talked to him in the hospital. He was right there with him, while he was…

High off his ass on drugs…

Wait… Was Ryan there? Like, actually there, and not a hallucination? He hadn’t… he hadn’t been imagining him, had he? He couldn’t have… No, he… he saw him back in the lodge, too. Before the cops and the ambulances had arrived. And - oh, he’s an idiot; he even knew the number of the room Ryan was staying in. Ryan was fine. 

He’s fine. 

…Unless?

“Dammit—” Dylan pulls himself out of bed yet again. He yanks the charger cable out of his phone, snatching it up from the table — alongside his key card to the room. 

This was ridiculous… It hadn’t been that long since he last talked to Ryan. Less than a week, really. Sure, he’d rather that not been the case, but when you’ve got the cops holding a murder charge over your head and telling you not to speak to each other until the investigation is concluded, you tend to follow those orders. 

But that was all over now. Finally, finally, the nightmare was over. It had been the last day… The last round of interviews. Now, they were free.

For the time being, anyway…

Dylan softly pads down the carpeted hallways of the hotel, thankful for the dimmed sconces along the wall lighting his way. He probably should have put on some shoes or at least some socks before leaving his room, but his brain wasn’t exactly making the most sound of decisions right now. If anyone took a glance through the peep-hole in their door, they’d probably think he was a sleepwalker making his way up and down the halls, clad in his soft gray cotton pajama bottoms and tee his parents had brought with them on the flight over. Well, except for the fact they would see he was very much awake, looking right back at every door he walked past, silently counting the number attached to them in his head. 

It was almost a form of torture, having Ryan’s room so close to his own, and still be unable to see him. Now here he was, stood outside room 258, good hand raised up to rap his knuckles against the door. 

He doesn’t knock. 

Dylan drops his hand back down with a sigh. It was three in the morning. Just because he can’t sleep from his nightmares doesn’t mean he should interrupt Ryan’s… That wasn’t fair to him. And Ryan’s probably feeling just as exhausted as he is after all those interviews… 

Dylan’s fingers twitch by his side, still wanting to just reach forward and knock, but kept held back. He just… He just wanted to see him. Hear his voice. He just…

Wanted to be with Ryan. 

Dylan raises his hand again, about to knock when the door swings open. He manages to stop his fist from moving forward before effectively punching Ryan in the face, arm freezing in place as the both of them startle back, not expecting to see the other. Dylan’s gaze immediately dropped down to Ryan’s apparel, not finding pajamas but a pair of darkly colored boxes and a plain black shirt, long sleeves covering his arms.

“Jesus--” Ryan closed his eyes, taking a breath to recover from the mini heart attack he just had. 

“Oop…Sorry, I--” Dylan’s eyes shifted between his raised fist and Ryan, slowly lowering his hand back down. “I… I couldn’t sleep.”

Ryan gave a nod of his head, clearing his throat. “Yeah, uh… Neither could I.”

“Were you…” Dylan paused, glancing to the side and down the empty hallway. “Were you going somewhere?”

“Um… Yeah. Yeah, actually, I was…” Ryan gave Dylan somewhat of an awkward smile, briefly raising a hand in Dylan’s direction. “I was… looking for you, actually.”

“Oh,” Dylan blanched, not knowing where to look now Ryan was staring at the ground. “Well… You found me.”

Ryan huffed, tipping his head in agreement. He manages to meet Dylan’s gaze again, stepping to the side of the door frame and gesturing into his room. “Did you wanna… come in, or…?”

Dylan shuffled into the room, near identical to his own — although, perhaps a little tidier than his. Ryan was not a fan of the ‘the floors fine’ method of putting away clothes, it seemed. That’s not to say that he had left the cabins back at camp a complete pig sty, (he’s not that big of an asshole) but in his own space, he liked to be a little more… lax. 

Ryan softly closed the door behind him, watching Dylan as he carried out a little inspection of his room. “You can sit down if you want.”

Dylan nodded, heading over to Ryan’s bed and taking a seat on the end. Same mattress too, it seemed. By which he means, rock solid and about as good as a slab of concrete for comfort. Although, this one doesn’t have a spring poking him in the ass, so… Dylan guessed this one was slightly better. 

Dylan let out a tired sigh, glancing up at Ryan from his perch on the bed. “You gonna take a seat too, or do you wanna keep up this trend of standing there awkwardly whenever one of us enters a room?”

Ryan bit back a smile at the strangely accurate comment, rolling his eyes at Dylan’s sleepy but satisfied smile. He walked over to Dylan, the bed dipping down as Ryan sat down next to him. “So… You couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

“Nope.” Dylan popped the ‘p’. “Kinda expected it, but… not like this. I think maybe it’s… I dunno, it’s the interviews? Having to constantly retell the night over and over in detail, it’s just… It’s fucking with my head or something.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean…” Ryan mumbled. “So, you haven’t been able to sleep at all?”

“Uh, y’know… Small amounts every now and then. Actually managed to get to sleep tonight, but…” Dylan trailed off, huffing in laughter. “How do I say ‘I had a nightmare’ without sounding like a little kid?”

Ryan’s lips twitched, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t need to be a kid to have nightmares. And you don’t need to be a kid for them to mess you up sometimes…”

“Yeah… Never thought I’d say this, but I miss the nightmares where you’re just… suddenly in your underwear during that big presentation you were dreading. I mean… you go your whole childhood being told not to be scared of the dark, but now we know the kind of shit that’s actually out there, y’know?”

“Werewolves… Ghosts…” Ryan shook his head, looking to the lamp that kept the room alight in a soothing golden glow with gratitude. It had been left running every night without fail. Wouldn’t be too surprising if the hotel added an extra charge for all the electricity he’s been using… “I don’t think I even want to know what else is out there.”

“Probably for the best.”

Ryan looks away from the lamp, directing his gaze back over to Dylan. “Did you wanna talk about it? Your nightmare, I mean. You don’t have to, but, uh — well, you were trying to get away from the whole ‘sounding like a kid thing’ — but whenever my sister has bad nightmares, she likes to come find me and tell me about them. Sounds counterproductive, but I think it helps get it out of your mind to say it out loud, if that makes sense?”

“I guess…” Dylan slouched over with a sigh, rubbing his hand across his eyes. “As you can probably guess, it was about camp… Back at the, uh… Back at the radio hut.”

Ryan’s eyes soften, watching as Dylan unconsciously finds his hand drifting over to his stub. The doctors had given him a sleeve to go over it, but for now it was covered in layers of gauze and medical dressings. “You… dream about that often?”

Dylan shook his head. “You’d think I would, wouldn’t you? I don’t get it either. But no, this was the first nightmare I had of it. Except… It didn’t play out the way it actually happened.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t get bit?”

“Nope. I fixed the wire instead.”

“So… You didn’t lose your hand?”

“No,” Dylan answers, eyes focused on his fingers as they pick at a loose corner of dressing on his stump. “I lost you, instead.”

Ryan’s brows fly up, unable to say anything in response. Dylan continued to play with the gauze around his arm, his foot repeatedly tapping up and down in place. “Fucking thing just… came right through the roof. It was on you, then… you were gone. I had to--” Dylan’s voice catches, the light from the lamp next to them reflecting the glossy sheen in his eyes. “I had to watch you die, man. Had to see your throat get sliced open… Had to hear you fucking scream…”

Dylan closed his eyes, shaking his head before lowering it. Ryan still didn’t know what to say — what he could say — as Dylan quickly wiped his face on the sleeve of his shoulder. “I wasn’t exactly getting much sleep after that. I know it’s dumb, but after I woke up, I… I needed to see that you were okay. Still… here, y’know? I mean, I knew you were fine, but in my minds… mind, the last time we saw you was bleeding out and half eaten on the floor of the radio hut, so…”

“I get it,” Ryan finally manages to get some words out. “I’m sorry to be… a cause of suffering? I guess?”

Dylan actually had to laugh at that, glancing over to Ryan with a baffled frown. “It’s not like you have control over my dreams, dude. Besides, the fact that I’m having nightmares about losing you just means you’ve become an important enough part of my life to worry over that, so… I’m almost glad, in a way. I mean, I’d rather not see you be disemboweled by a werewolf in my dreams, but…”

Ryan chuckled softly, the room falling into a comfortable silence not long after. It was something easy, they found. Enjoying each other's company. Sometimes it wasn’t words that were needed to comfort, but simply the other's presence. Almost like an anchor, or… or a life preserve. Something to hold onto through this storm. Keep you grounded. 

“How’s your hand?” Ryan broke the silence. 

“Oh, my hand?” Dylan glanced down at his stub, raising it up. “Still detached from my body, I believe.”

Ryan snorted, the sound bringing out a grin from Dylan. “Alright. How’s your arm?”

“Good. I think.” Dylan raised his arm up even higher, bringing it up to eye level as he looks it over. “I mean… It still hurts every now and then. But that’s what the painkillers are for.”

“Are you getting any, uh… Phantom pains?” Ryan asked, timidly, like he wasn’t sure whether it was something he should mention. “I read that it’s pretty common, especially right after you lose the… limb.”

Dylan sighed, slowly lowering his arm back down, eyes cast down towards the ground. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell where the pains coming from. Doc said there’s gonna be some pain and soreness from the surgery site for a while and… Yeah, he warned me about phantom pain, too. It’s weird, I… I can be looking right at it. Right at where my hand is no longer there, and… I can still feel it. Even right now, I can try and flex my fingers — fingers that aren’t there — and it feels like it’s happening.”

“But… no pain?” Ryan asked. 

Dylan’s silence answered Ryan’s question before his eventual words did. “Like I said… Sometimes it’s hard to tell if it’s just pain from the surgery or… that. But the painkillers help. They help a lot. It’s just… something I’ll have to get used to, I guess.”

“The, uh… The website I was on said it usually gets better with time,” Ryan tried to offer some consolation. “Apparently they used to think it was like… only psychological? But now they know it’s actually a mix-up in the signals between your brain and the amputated limb, so it’s…” Ryan slowly trailed off at Dylan’s combo of amused smile and raised eyebrow, dropping his hands that had been flailing about as he spoke. “…I’m not helping, am I?”

“More than you could know,” Dylan answered, voice warm and soft. “Are you… doing research on all of this?”

“Uh… Yeah?” Ryan said, like it shouldn’t have been surprising to Dylan that he had. “I feel like I’d be a pretty shitty friend if I didn’t at least find some stuff out that could… help, I guess. Especially given the fact that I’m the one that did this to you…”

“Ryan…” Dylan leaned back as he signed Ryan’s name. “We’ve been over this, remember? I mean, you should more so than me given I was drugged at the time. This isn’t your fault. I asked, you did it. End of story.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And secondly, ‘friend’, huh?" Dylan asked with a teasing grin before Ryan could argue back. “That what we are?”

“Uh…” Heat instantly flushed Ryan’s face, mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words. “It’s, uh… We… I didn’t want to like… Push anything onto you, or… assume anything…”

“Fairly certain I was the one being pushy,” Dylan said. “Speaking of, I… I should probably say sorry for, uh… back at the hospital. You were obviously uncomfortable and my dumb-slash-high-ass was pushing you for a kiss, and that just… was not cool of me--”

“Don’t… Don’t apologize for that, man,” Ryan cut off Dylan’s ‘apology’ with a hint of a laugh. “Like you said: You asked, I did. Except, unlike when I dismembered you… I wanted to.”

“Oh…” Dylan blinked in surprise, glancing away with a disbelieving smile. “So… Friends that… happen to know what each other's mouth tastes like? And happen to both ‘want’ to kiss each other? Unless… I’m reading that wrong?”

“Yeah, I- uh… I guess I’m not denying that.” Ryan’s face continued to flush, missing Dylan’s piercing gaze as he stared down at his own hands. “I’m… not great at this.”

“That’s okay,” Dylan assured him. Dylan’s hand on his leg forced Ryan’s eyes up to meet his, finding nothing but the reassurance and kindness he had just heard. “I don’t want to push anything on you, either. If this is too much for you—”

“No!” Ryan blurted out, the mini outburst taking both of them by surprise. “No, it’s, uh… It’s not that. Sometimes things can get a little overwhelming for me, but it’s not that I don’t want that. That I don’t want… this. I’m not sure what this is, or even if we need to define what this, or… or what we are, but…” Ryan exhaled softly, timid eyes meeting Dylan’s. In this moment, they were one of the same. Both desperate for that connection… yet equally as terrified of rejection from the one they long to connect with.

Dylan wasn’t sure which one of them leaned in first, or whether they both moved at the same time. But it was as they shifted, as Ryan turned towards him for a better angle, that his arm lightly caught Dylan’s stub. Dylan couldn’t help but hiss in pain, flinching back as the sharp pain shoots up his arm from the slightest of touches. 

Ryan’s face falls, guilt shining in his eyes as he quickly pulls away from Dylan, not wanting to hurt him any more than he has. “Shit, I… Fuck, I’m sorry, Dylan, I--”

“I’m okay…” Dylan is quick to assure him, though the wince pulling at his face doesn’t help much with that. “Trust me, it’s fine. I’ve already smacked it into so many door frames, this was nothing. Earlier today? I tried to turn on a light switch with it. Was on the floor for a good five minutes after that.”

Ryan’s face quite clearly said this was not helping. “Do you… Do you need more painkillers, or…?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Dylan waved him off, admittedly looking less pained than he did a moment ago. “I took some not long ago anyway. They’ll kick in soon, and I’ll be pain-free before you know it. I mean, the strength of these things? You could probably kick me in the nuts and I wouldn’t feel a thing. Don’t test that theory, but I’m just saying.”

Ryan shook his head, barely resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. “I... Won't?”

“My balls appreciate that,” Dylan said so sincerely that Ryan could only stare blankly back at him. “Seriously though, I’m good. Doc’s got me on a strict regime of painkillers and checks.”

“...Checks?”

“Yeah, checks I gotta do on myself.” Dylan twitches his stub up. “Just basic ones, twice a day. Undress it, check for infection, then redress it in new gauze. Once in the morning, and once in the evening…” Dylan trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as he looked away in thought. “…Which… I forgot to do tonight…”

“That’s… not great,” Ryan noted. “So… When you said ‘strict regime--”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get sassy with me,” Dylan grumbled. He regretfully stood from Ryan’s bed, stretching out his shoulders and popping the kinks out of his neck. “I should probably… Go do that…”

Ryan too jumped up from the bed, Dylan still stretching with his back to him as he asks, “Do you want me to do it?”

Dylan freezes mid-arm stretch, right arm caught in the crook of his left as he turned to face Ryan. “You… Want to help change the dressings on my arm?”

Ryan shrugged, looking a little confused by Dylan’s surprise at his offer. “…Yeah? It’s… good practice, y’know?”

Dylan tilted his head, flashing Ryan a giddy grin that only confused Ryan even more. “Aw… Sounds like you’re planning on hanging around, Ryan.”

Ryan rolled his eyes at him, stepping closer with a hand outstretched. “Just… give me your damn key card and I’ll go get the stuff.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s just…” Dylan muttered, the sudden awkwardness he was displaying making Ryan drop his hand. 

“Do you… not want me to help?” Ryan asked, joining Dylan in the awkwardness. “Oh, is… Is it something, like… intimate? Seeing your arm like that? Sorry, I didn’t… Didn’t think of it that way.”

It… kind of was, strangely. It shouldn’t be, given that Ryan’s technically seen the inside of his arm as he tried to stop him from bleeding out on the floor of the radio hut, which was just… all kinds of ‘ew’. It was beyond gross that he now knows what his bones look like, which ideally is something you should never have to see in your life. Generally speaking, bones are supposed to stay inside your body and not be visible. Wait… Were teeth bones?

Anyway, he’s getting off-topic. He wasn’t sure why the thought of Ryan seeing his naked, bare stub was tripping him up, but… it was. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of; he knew that. But there was something so… private about it. And, as much as he wants to be brave about it… It’s not the prettiest of things to see. Especially so fresh after surgery… Perhaps it’s because he still had to get used to it himself. It was still as much of a shock for him to see as it is for others. Even now, he occasionally catches sight of it and it startles him, like… ‘Oh shit… Where did my hand go?’

But… he doesn’t want to push Ryan away. And yeah, past the thrill of knowing Ryan actually plans to be in his life enough to help him get through this, it does make sense that Ryan will see it eventually. So… Why not now? Why not accept the help? 

Dylan dug his hand into his back pocket, pulling out his rooms key card and holding it out to Ryan. “Excuse the mess that is my room. I like to turn my floor into a fun game of ‘What the fuck did I trip over this time?’ ”

Ryan tries and fails to hold back his smile, plucking the key card out of Dylan’s hand. “Where’s the stuff I need?”

“Uh… Cabinet in the bathroom.”

“Got it.” Ryan flicked the key card in acknowledgment before heading towards the door to his room. “If I’m not back in five minutes, assume that fun game of ‘What the fuck did I trip over?’ turned into a not-so-fun game of ‘What the fuck did I trip over and knock myself out on?’ ”

“Try not to do that, but… I will take a picture of you and send it to everyone if you do.”

The last thing Dylan saw of Ryan as he slipped past the door was his hand flipping him the bird, before that too was gone, and the door gently shut behind him. Dylan chortled quietly to himself in the stillness of the room, turning back towards the main part of the room with a thoughtful sigh. What now? Take a look around? Doesn’t seem like there’d be much point; Ryan did not treat hotel rooms with the same disregard as him, and had quite clearly placed his belongings where they were supposed to be — out of sight and behind closed doors. He was never much of a snooper, anyway. Privacy was important — and so was the respect of others’ privacy. 

The buzz of his phone in his pocket gave Dylan the distraction he was looking for. He pulls out his phone, flopping back down onto Ryan’s bed as he checks his new incoming message. 

  ***Sent 4:12AM***

Ryan: Room 252, right?

***Received 4:12AM***  

Dylan:  Yup, that’s the one

            I’m now imagining you stood there like an idiot trying to use the key card              on the wrong door

The use of the middle finger emoji from Ryan brought out another grin from Dylan. 

***Sent 4:13AM***  

Ryan:   Alright, I’m in

  ***Received 4:13AM***  

Dylan:  Ok, Mr. Robot

  ***Sent 4:13AM***  

Ryan:  ?

  ***Received 4:14AM***  

Dylan:  The show?

           It’s a hacking reference, Ryan. ‘I’m in?’ You must have heard that before?

  ***Sent 4:14AM***  

Ryan:  Oh

          I never watched that show

  ***Received 4:15AM***  

Dylan:  I’d be mad, but now I’m compiling a list of stuff in my head we can watch               together, so it takes away the sting a little bit.

            …Up for some Netflix and Chill, Ryan?

  ***Sent 4:15AM***  

Ryan:  Stop distracting me before I actually DO trip over something in here and break my neck

  ***Received 4:16AM***  

Dylan:    Mmm… No

              Plus you’ve just given me the power of knowledge, Ryan. 

             The knowledge that I can say stuff like that and have it work on you

             You Fool…

  ***Sent 4:17AM***  

Ryan:  Got it. I’ll be sure not to respond to any future attempts at flirting via text

  ***Received 4:18AM***  

Dylan:  Wait, no--

          Actually, um, excuse you? ‘Attempts’ at flirting? 

          There was no ‘attempt’, Ryan. I flirted; you succumbed to my charms

          I bet you’re blushing like a school girl in my room rn

 The door to the room swinging open nearly made Dylan jump out of his skin, head snapping up to see Ryan stood in the door frame, juggling both his phone and the supplies for Dylan’s arm as he gives Dylan a rather pointed look, lips pressed tightly together as the heat pulsing in his cheeks only served to prove Dylan right — except for the location. 

“You’re thinking about retracting that offer to help, huh?” Dylan asked, smiling unashamedly up at Ryan’s mostly playful glare.

Mostly. 

Ryan looked like he was resisting the urge to throw the bandages in his hands directly at Dylan’s self-satisfied smile, closing the door perhaps a little harder than he should do at this time of night. Morning. Whatever.

“I should block your number…” Ryan suggested, chucking his phone towards the head of the bed before taking a seat next to Dylan.

Dylan gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Ryan agreed with a hint of a smile. He carefully placed the bandages and gauze down on the empty bit of bed next to him and turned to Dylan, face turning serious. “You sure you’re okay with me doing this? If you don’t want me to--”

“No, I do,” Dylan insisted, letting out a shaky breath as he looked at his arm. “I want your help. Just… might be a little weird, is all.”

Ryan’s mouth twitched in sympathy. Then, his eyes lit up in realization, bouncing up from the bed and grabbing something from the supplies with such urgency that Dylan thought a werewolf had suddenly entered the room or something. Ryan shot towards the bathroom, and Dylan’s question of whatever the hell Ryan was doing was answered with the sound of running water. Ryan came back into the room not long after, hands now thoroughly washed and adorned in sterile, latex gloves.

“You ready?” Ryan asked, gloved hands held in the air. 

Dylan bit down on his lip so hard that he was sure it’d bleed. “...I’d love to make a sexy doctor joke here about a prostate check--”

“Stop confusing porn with real life.” Ryan sat back down next to Dylan. He reached out towards Dylan’s arm, then paused, looking up at Dylan with an eyebrow raised in question. He waited for Dylan’s nod before placing his hand on Dylan’s arm with the tenderest of touches, so light Dylan couldn’t even feel it. 

Nimble yet delicate fingers began the painstaking effort of removing the multiple layers of bandages wrapped around Dylan’s stump, Ryan’s eyes laser focused as he worked. Meanwhile, Dylan wasn’t looking at his arm in the slightest. He just… He couldn’t look away from Ryan. And sure, that had been a common theme since he first laid eyes on the guy, but in this moment especially… 

Man… He was really screwed, wasn’t he?

“Tell me if I hurt you…” said Ryan, words barely above a mumble, most of his focus diverted towards what his hands were doing than his mouth. 

“Sure. Will an ‘ow’ do, or should I like… scream at the top of my lungs? Which will get your attention more?”

“The first,” Ryan answers, not even glancing up at Dylan for his comment. “The second would probably make me jump, which would probably hurt you more. Not to mention make everyone on this floor think I’m murdering you in here.”

“...Or they could think it’s the other kind of screams.”

Ryan’s hands stilled, bandages half hanging off Dylan’s arm. Funnily enough, this was the comment that got Ryan to look up at him. “I’m… not sure how given you’d be screaming in pain. Unless… Do you… Do you usually make screams of pain during sex?”

Dylan clicked his tongue. “Guess you’ll have to find out.” 

Ryan bit down hard on his tongue, eyes dropping back down to Dylan’s arm as he cleared his throat. “I… Don’t think that line worked the way you were hoping it would.”

“Yeah, I tried to save it and made it so much worse…”

Ryan unwrapped the last bit of bandage left, delicately sliding it off the healing skin. He kept a tentative hand loosely held around Dylan’s arm as he shot Dylan a half smile. “It’s okay. I knew what you were trying to get at.” 

Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was just because Ryan was quickly falling into this sense of comfort with Dylan that made it easier; easier to say the things that he wanted to say but often held back, unsure what others would think of him if he freely said such things. Not wanting to… well, fuck things up, Ryan supposed. But as he said, Dylan just made it easier. Enough to gather the confidence to say, “And in that case… I do intend to find out.”

That was all it took for Dylan, it seemed. The slightest of flirting back from Ryan, and boom — mouth dry, brain switched off. Not a thought. Just Ryan’s words bouncing around in an empty skull as he stares wide-eyed at Ryan like some sort of creep. 

It also did a very good job of distracting him from the fact that Ryan was now looking at his exposed stub. For about… five seconds, anyway. Then it was a case of being sat here not knowing what to say or where to look as Ryan looked so meticulously over his injury that Dylan was starting to think he was trying to memorize it or something. 

“It’s, uh… Not a pretty sight,” Dylan tried to joke, but the delivery fell flat, along with his lopsided smile. It was true, though. At least in his eyes. It was… swollen, skin bruised and flushed pink, near red. Haggard stitches ran along the curvature of the stump, their dark black marks dug into his skin. 

Ryan’s eyes flicked up to Dylan, to his downtrodden gaze, and he didn’t like that one bit. “You know what I see?”

“Hopefully not a sign of infection?”

“No—” Ryan blew right past that. “—I see the proof that you faced hell head-on and came through the other side. I see someone who knows he’s still got a long road ahead of him but is ready to face that just the same. You wear this like a badge of honor, Dylan. Because that’s what it is. This, is you. Be proud.”

Okay, so maybe this was how Dylan’s brain fully malfunctions.

“And it’s a part of a very pretty person,” Ryan added on like it was nothing more than an afterthought, not even looking at Dylan as he reached for the fresh gauze. “So, yes. It is a pretty sight.”

Nope. That did it. Right there. 

“Sweet Jesus, what are you doing to me?” Dylan whispered as Ryan cautiously placed the back of his against the flushed skin of his stump, doing his best to avoid the stitches as he feels for any excessive heat from him. 

“Um… Nothing?” Ryan answered, seemingly deeming his temperature to be okay as he begins applying a fresh layer of gauze over his arm. “I’m just being ‘Ryan Ryan’. ”

“Ohhh, that’s not fair,” Dylan complained, his drawing out of the ‘oh’ bringing out a quiet chuckle from Ryan. “You can’t do that to me…”

“Why not…?” Ryan asked in reply, still not looking at Dylan but keeping his focus purely on the task at hand, and man... He was doing a good job, but Dylan just wanted to see his goddamn eyes—

"Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you keep bringing out ‘Ryan Ryan’ and I fall in love with you in like, three days. It’ll happen. I will cling to you, and you will regret it.”

Finally, finally, those rich encompassing brown eyes meet with his. “Safe to say I have a few regrets. From that night especially…” Dylan wasn’t sure if the tingles shooting up his arm were from the tightness of the new bandages being secured, or from the feather-touch brushes of Ryan’s fingers as they worked. “The only regret I’ll have with you? Is not kissing you long before that night by the fire.”

“Oh,” Dylan squeaks, having to fight down the urge to punch himself in the face. Oh? Oh?! What kind of a response was ‘oh?’ 

“All done,” Ryan snaps Dylan out of his self-hating thoughts, only struggling a little bit as he pinches and pulls at the latex gloves on his hands to get them off. “Looks good from what I can tell.”

“Oh - uh, y-yeah, looks good,” Dylan stammers out in agreement. “Hey, so quick question: When the hell did you get so good at flirting?”

Ryan looked in very clear disagreement to that, head jolting back with an affronted frown. “I always was.”

“Alright, let me change the question: Where the hell is all this flirting coming from?”

Ryan balls up the gloves in his hands, chucking them into the trash can in the corner of the room with surprising ease. “Do you want me to stop?”

“God no.”

Ryan snorted. “I wouldn’t really call any of that flirting, anyway. I’m just… saying what’s true.”

“Well, it’s working a little too well on me, so I’d class it as flirting.”

“If you say so.” Ryan found it easier to just agree. “I also haven’t slept in like, forty hours? So that’s probably affecting my filter a little bit.”

“Forty—?!” Dylan spluttered. “Jesus, Ryan, when you said you couldn’t sleep--”

“I’m fine--”

“No, you’re not. Christ, you… you should have kicked me out man, try and get some sleep--”

“I won’t. Sleep, I mean. Or kick you out, for that matter.”

“Then… Shit. I’d say I’d try and help, but I’m not sure how…” Dylan looked over to the pile of medical supplies Ryan had brought over, wading his good hand through them to get a better look. “ I might have some sleeping pills somewhere…”

“Got my own,” Ryan shot down the idea and a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t work.”

Dylan blew a long puff of air from his mouth, glancing over to the old digital alarm clock collecting dust on Ryan’s bedside cabinet, the numbers and letters blinking ‘4:24 AM’ at him. “Okay… Then let’s switch roles.”

“...I… Don’t know what that means…”

“You helped me, now I help you,” Dylan answers, gesturing with his thumb behind his shoulder to the head of the bed. “Go lay down.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna--”

“Go lay down.” Dylan’s commanding tone caught Ryan by surprise, mouth swinging shut as he blinked in shock. “Please…” Dylan added as an afterthought. 

“Alright…” Ryan conceded, moving up the bed. He laid back against the bed’s headboard, hands in his lap and legs stretched out in front of him as he watched Dylan fumble with the medical supplies, trying to move them from the bed over to the empty space on the room’s desk. “You could have just asked me to do that--”

“I got it!” Dylan insisted, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on not dropping everything. He beamed with success once everything had been moved, heading back over to Ryan’s bed, proud smile switching to a frown at the sight of Ryan's plank-like posture. “You don’t look very comfortable.”

“Not really,” Ryan had to admit. 

“Alright, possibly embarrassing question for you coming up, but one I feel is fairly important.” Dylan clambered onto the bed next to Ryan, leaning back with a sigh as he turned his head to face him. “So, for me, I slept like a baby when we, uh… When we shared a bed back in the hospital. Granted, I slept like a baby that was on a lot of drugs, but it wasn’t just that. You made me feel…” Dylan trailed off, admittedly finding himself a little embarrassed to be saying this out loud. 

“Safe,” Ryan finished for him, a timid smile almost impossible to see pulling at his lips. “Yeah, I… I slept pretty well, too.”

“Okay, so… What’dya say?” Dylan offered. “Wanna test the theory again?”

“Sounds like you’re asking me for a sleepover,” Ryan teased, much to Dylan’s delight. 

“Sure. But maybe without the pillow fight? There’s only so much I can do with one hand.”

“I’m not even gonna comment on that…” Ryan reached over Dylan, flipping the small light switch on the wall next to the bed. The little lamp by him was extinguished, room plunging into darkness, and Ryan froze. He hadn’t been expecting it — that sudden wash of fear, ice cold and gripping tight around his chest, ripping away the air in his lungs. 

But then Dylan’s hand is softly curling into his shirt, guiding him back down to the bed, and just like that, the warmth returns. Ryan lets Dylan pull him down, and they settle together like they had been doing this for years: Ryan curled into Dylan’s side, his head rested atop Dylan’s chest, Dylan’s good arm wrapped him, fingers tracing soothing paths up and down his sleeved arm. Dylan didn’t use any more words, and he didn’t need to. All of a sudden, with the gentle ‘thuds’ of Dylan’s heart under his ear, his deep, soft breaths, and the warmth of his skin bleeding into Ryan’s… the dark almost felt soothing. 

And with Dylan’s hold around him… Ryan let himself sink into it. 

#dylan/ryan #ryan x dylan #dylan x ryan #radioheads #the quarry #the quarry game #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #fluff #fluff and humor #occasional angst #basically a timeline of their relationship

[chipper9906]

#the quarry #the quarry game #ryan erzahler #dylan lenivy #radioheads #dylan/ryan #drylan #ryan x dylan #dont worry dylan im sure hes fine #the quarry spoilers