Chapter Text
The sound of crunching metal. Distinct and jarring.
It’s late when I hear it, and so faint I almost miss it, drowned out against the sound of the wind and driving sleet outside. I pause halfway up the stairs on my way to bed, the faint glow of my phone the only light in the pitch blackness. The storm knocked out the power a little while ago. Not surprising. I'd been hearing branches come down all evening, so the fact it took the house this long to go dark is actually a blessing. Miles away from civilization like this, a power outage in a storm is an inevitability.
That metallic crunch however…
I grimace, hoping like hell that sound wasn’t something landing on my car. I don’t have the money for car repairs right now.
As I strain to hear over the storm, a second crunching impact comes through, barely two seconds behind the first. This time it’s followed by the sound of a blaring car horn, too distant and distorted to be coming from my car.
Oh… shit.
I draw in a hiss of breath from between my teeth.
That was the sound of a car crashing. I'm sure of it. There’s nothing else around that would make that sound.
I hesitate for a moment, glancing down at my phone. The obvious thing to do in this moment would be to call for help, but cell service is patchy this far out. The signal has been dropping in and out all day and… yep. A quick check shows zero bars. No service, not in this weather.
Fuck.
Fuck shit.
I hurry back down the stairs and throw my boots and coat back on as quickly as I can. The crash was nearby - it had to be to be audible over the storm. And if my phone isn't working, theirs won't be either. There won't be anyone coming to help. I'm probably the only person for miles around that can intervene. Little as I can do.
I grimace, trying not to think about that too hard. I don’t know what I’ll do if someone is badly injured, but…
There's no way around it. I have to go look. I have to do what I can.
With grim determination, I zip up my coat and fling open the front door, rushing out into the darkness.
It’s worse out than I expected. The forecast had predicted a nasty end-of-season storm to sweep through overnight, dumping over a foot of sleet, snow, and freezing rain on the area. The state had instituted a travel ban, it was expected to be so bad, all residents of the county urged to stay at home until morning.
As I hurry down the front steps and into the yard, I bite back a string of curses and wonder what would possess anyone to be out in this. It’s hellish. The wind tears at me and snow and ice needle across my exposed skin painfully. Already I can feel the storm stealing my body heat and I know I can’t stay out in this for long. The same goes for whoever was in the car crash. Even if they’re uninjured, they’ll freeze to death if they’re left out here overnight. I have to find them and get them back to shelter quickly.
The car horn is still blaring, an ugly flat tone fighting to be heard over the storm, and I point myself towards it. My phone’s flashlight is almost useless. In the darkness and driving snow, it provides just enough light to make sure I'm not about to trip over something directly in front of me, but that’s it. The mixed precipitation flies through the small cone of light like static. It's unbelievable how quickly it’s covering the ground. Only a few hours in, and there’s already enough accumulation to make it hard to run. I slip and sink several inches into the stuff with every step and it slows me considerably as I hurry down the driveway towards the road.
I loved this property the moment I saw it:
An old farm house set far, far back from the road, surrounded by a large yard and cut off from public view by a hilly, heavily wooded patch of land. It reminded me instantly of something out of a fairytale - a secret house in the woods, tethered to the real world by nothing more than a narrow lane through a tunnel of trees. Driving through it for the first time had felt magical, dappled sunlight filtering through the drooping pine boughs and overgrown hedges.
Currently, it’s a little less charming. I squawk indignantly as I hit the tree line and immediately get smacked in the face by an unseen branch. They’re hanging low, weighed down by the storm. Angrily, I spit out bits of ice and pine needles and correct my course once again. It’s even darker under the trees, the branches creaking ominously above me in the storm. I can barely see where I'm going but the car’s horn is wailing like a siren at sea, calling me towards it.
… It cuts out when I'm only halfway to the road.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” I wheeze under my breath. I try to tell myself it’s a good sign. Maybe the driver had been leaning on the horn before, and it stopping means they're conscious and moving around. On the other hand, without the horn, it’s going to be harder to find them.
Finally, after what feels like far too long spent navigating the driveway, dodging icy branches and downed limbs, I break out of the trees and onto the road proper. Panting for breath, I look left and right, searching for any sign of life.
There’s nothing.
The road is untouched; no sign of tire tracks. Just a blank white expanse that’s quickly swallowed up by darkness and rushing snow.
Once more, I pause, straining to listen over the storm. The horn and crunch of metal had sounded so close. They have to be nearby. But I have to be careful. I can’t afford to go wandering around aimlessly looking for them. My hands are already numb and if I get turned around and lost, it won’t be just the people in the car crash who freeze to death tonight. I grit my teeth and hold my breath, listening as hard as I can.
There!
It’s faint, barely there, but I catch the sound of a voice on the wind. And there, off to the right! The barest hint of light in the darkness.
Without a second thought, I hustle towards it.
As I get closer, stomping and puffing my way up the steep hill, the faint light gets stronger and resolves itself into a pair of headlights. They belong to a cherry red convertible, skidded to a stop diagonally across both lanes of the road. There’s a large enclosed trailer hitched to the back and slammed up against it at an angle from where it braked too suddenly, but otherwise the car appears undamaged. It’s also curiously empty.
Not the source of the sounds.
I find the source by following the quickly filling footprints and tire tracks that lead forward from the convertible, down to a hairpin turn in the road a few dozen feet in front of it.
There’s a guard rail around the edge of the sharp turn. Or at least there had been one there a few hours earlier when I had driven this way. Now there’s just a gaping hole and the jagged remains of some posts. I hold my breath as I creep up to the edge and peer over.
At first I can’t see anything distinct. The dark and the rush of falling snow swallow the details, but then the wind blessedly dies down for a moment and I get a snapshot image of the scene below.
About sixty feet down the steep embankment is a silver car lying on its side, the front crumpled in like an old soda can. A single, somehow still working headlight flickers weakly across the treeline, providing just enough light to see by. There are people down there, though I can’t tell how many. Against the faint backdrop of light I can make out two figures on top of the wreck, hunched over and reaching into the cavernous space where the driver’s side door used to be. Then I lose sight of them as the storm picks up again and a wall of white cuts off my vision.
With my heart in my throat, I start forward and slide down the embankment towards the carnage.
The way down is slippery and steeper than anticipated and I quickly end up on my ass, sliding ungracefully down the furrow of churned up snow and soil left by the passing car. There are voices in the darkness, loud but indistinct. I can’t make out what they’re saying, only that several men are yelling all at once as I half climb, half slide towards them. Out of the driving snow, a form suddenly materializes in front of me. I reach out and grab onto it as I trip over the uneven ground, nearly bowling it over with me.
With a shout the form twists around, pulling away, and I suddenly find myself face to face not with a man as I expected, but a skeleton!
He stares at me with an expression of utter shock as I draw in a sharp gasp, momentarily drawing back.
A monster? I hadn’t expected – !
I snap myself out of it. They’re in trouble. They need help.
“Is anyone hurt?!” I shout over the storm.
That brings him back to reality too and he nods.
“yes!” he shouts back, one of his bony hands shooting up to hold his hood in place as the wind tries to rip it away from his head. “we’ve got–!”
Whatever he’s about to say is cut off from a scream from the car. The two of us look up as the figures on the wreck haul out a third, smaller figure. The smaller figure thrashes and screams again before going completely limp in their arms. Feeling sick to my stomach, I reach out and grab the skeleton by his coat to get his attention again. His eyes are wide and scared as he looks back at me.
“We can’t stay here!” I shout. Forms are appearing around us out of the storm. One, three, four… How many people are here?
“There’s a house! Can you walk?!”
The skeleton grimaces. “lead the way!”
The group of monsters clusters up around me, five of them now, all shouting to each other in confusion. One of them is carrying the limp body of a sixth, the one pulled from the wreckage. I can’t make out more than panicked snippets of words here and there, but as I begin moving forward, my hand clenched around the coat sleeve of the skeleton, he shouts to the figure behind him and grabs onto its arm in turn. They chain up behind me and I begin leading them away from the crash.
It’s much slower going back. Visibility is nearly zero and the embankment is too steep and icy to climb back up. We're left with no choice but to walk along the gully parallel to the road. Cell phone resolutely out in front, I lead the line as best I can, navigating downed trees and bramble patches and other debris all partially hidden by the accumulating snow. Behind me, I can hear the others talking to each other now and again but can’t make anything out. Mostly they’re silent, everyone concentrating on keeping their footing as we trudge through the storm.
Eventually the slight upwards slant I’ve been following levels out and I stumble across my own tracks, marking the turnoff for the driveway. Head down, I turn and begin retracing my way back towards the safety of the house.
Slowly but surely we make our way through the woods, then across the yard, following the ghost of my trail. The weak light of my phone flickers out, the last of the battery drained, just as I catch sight of the house. The boxy structure looms up out of the darkness like some giant sleeping animal, and my knees almost give out with relief. A few of the monsters behind me let out excited shouts as they see it too.
I lead the way around to the front porch, staggering up the steps and throwing the door open to stumble inside. The monster and his companions pile in behind me, nearly knocking each other over in their rush to get out of the storm. Once the last one is inside, I fight against the storm to shut the door behind us, the deafening howl of the wind cutting off with a slam.
I did it.
I lean against the door and gasp for breath, shaking from nerves and cold, but feeling so, so relieved. I found the people and got them to safety. Everything will be okay. I did it.
The sense of accomplishment is short-lived, though. I'm frozen to my core, my face and hands burning from the cold. I can’t feel my extremities. From the sounds of rattling bones and chattering teeth nearby, the others aren’t any better off. I'm not done yet.
“H-hold on,” I groan, pushing off the door and stumbling forward. I trip over something - someone - and both of us yelp in surprise as I stagger towards a side table in the dark, fumbling clumsily before I find what I'm looking for. The lighter is nearly impossible to use, my frozen hands practically useless, but after several tries I eventually manage to flick it on and light a nearby candle. Behind me, a jumbled conversation is taking place.
“W-WHERE ARE W-WE?”
“dunno… a house i think? … is red ok?”
“I CAN’T TELL…”
“S-SANS! CAN YOU HEAR ME? WAKE UP!”
“H-hold on!” I call again a little louder, moving around the room as quickly as I can. I take the candle with me, using it to light other candles as I go. Soon the room is lit, dimly but adequately, by orange flickering light. I find myself looking at a pile of six shivering, haggard looking skeletons, all dripping ice and snow as they huddle around a tall one cradling a smaller unconscious one to his chest.
‘H-here, bring him here,” I instruct, crossing to the couch. I fling the few cardboard boxes that had been on it onto the floor. The tall skeleton is at my side in an instant, gingerly laying his burden down. A second tall skeleton butts in, inserting himself between me and the smaller form before I can even get a proper look.
“G-GET AWAY F-FROM HIM, HUMAN!” he snarls viciously.
I back away instantly, hands up at the sharp fangs and angry eyes pointed my way. I have the sudden mental image of an angry bristling dog, and I have no desire to be bitten.
“EDGE!” The first tall skeleton looks at him sharply, but I'm already several feet away. The other skeletons are gathering around the couch, all trying to get a look at the unconscious one. The angry skeleton begins snapping at them too when they start pressing in too close. An argument begins to unfold.
Between their jostling bodies, I can just barely see the injured skeleton. He’s deathly still. I can’t tell if he’s breathing or not. I don’t know if he even needs to.
Panic drives me to step forward towards the group and grab the arm of the closest skeleton. He turns to look up at me, looking just as worried as I feel, the pale blue lights in his eye sockets shrunken down to pinpricks.
“Is he dying?” I demand insistently.
A stricken look flashes across his face. “I… I DON’T KNOW. EDGE WON’T LET US SEE!”
“I SAID BACK OFF! ” the angry skeleton snaps again as one of the others tries to pull the coat off the injured skeleton’s shoulders.
“edge, j-just let us – “
“I CAN TAKE C-CARE OF MY OWN BR–”
“What d-does he need?”
My voice cuts through the bickering and several heads turn my way. The angry skeleton sucks in a breath to say something but the shorter one arguing with him cuts him off. It’s the skeleton I had grabbed onto at the wreck. His blue coat is still twisted into a weird shape on one arm where I had held onto him, the ice and the cold freezing the fabric into place.
“we n-need to get him dry and w-warm. you got t-towels?”
“Towels,” I echo. Yes, I can do that. With a hasty nod I turn and head upstairs.
Navigating by candle light, I find my way to a linen closet and grab as many as I can carry. Downstairs I can hear the voices rising in short-tempered shouts before abruptly dying back down. Somehow that worries me more than the shouting and I hurry back down.
Whatever argument had been happening, it seems to be settled now. Several of the skeletons are working together, methodically divesting the injured one of his clothes. They’ve got his coat off and are partway through peeling a damp sweater up over his head.
“H-here,” I shove the towels into the arms of the closest monster and make a beeline for the wood stove. I had been letting it die down for the night. Now I yank open the hatch on the front and throw a few more logs on to stoke it back up.
There. Dry and warm.
I turn around just in time to see the injured and now shirtless skeleton being manhandled between the angry skeleton and the tall one who had been carrying him. I gape as his shorts (why is he wearing shorts in this weather?!) are pulled down to expose a clearly dislocated hip. Erratic arcs of red light pulse between the ball of the femur and the empty socket, apparently the only thing keeping the leg from falling away entirely. The angry skeleton takes a firm hold of the smaller one’s hip and femur in each hand and with a sickening *POP* , forces them back together.
“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?” he barks when he notices me staring and yanks smaller skeleton’s shorts back up, looking livid. “MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL H-HUMAN AND GET SOME BANDAGES! AND S-SOMETHING FOR A SPLINT!”
It takes me longer to find what they ask for this time. No matter where I look I can’t find any bandages, and not wanting to take too long, I return to the linen closet and pull down a bed sheet. A convenient wooden yardstick hanging on the back of the door will serve well enough as a splint.
Back in the living room, things are even stranger. The skeletons are muttering things about “HP” and the angry skeleton is bent over the injured one, a bony bare hand planted firmly on his bare chest. There’s a nebulous green glow around the point of contact and I swear I see something white pulsing within the injured one’s rib cage.
A tall skeleton quickly steps in and cuts me off from seeing more. I almost go to sidle around him, but he moves with me and holds out his hands to take what I'm carrying.
“I um…” I shake my head and refocus on him. “I c-couldn’t find bandages, but…”
He flips the sheet open and with a satisfied nod, begins quickly shredding the linen into long strips. “THIS WILL DO, T-THANK YOU.”
No further requests come from the skeletons, so I stand on the sidelines feeling tense and useless as they work on their fallen friend. They’re quieter now, aside from a brief uptick of winces and groans at the tell-tale snap-crack of a bone being set. More clothing is removed and makeshift bandages are applied.
The minutes crawl by until eventually they begin backing off, revealing the injured skeleton now snugly tucked underneath the blanket that had been lying across the back of the couch. He’s still utterly still but…
“Is he going to be alright?”
The skeleton in the blue coat looks drawn, but he smiles tiredly in my direction. “y-yeah… we s-stabilized him in time. he’ll be ok.”
I slump with relief.
With the injured skeleton taken care of, I turn my attention to the others. They seem to be shaken up more than hurt, but they’re all still soaked and freezing from being out in the storm. At a less frantic pace, I make several more trips upstairs to ransack the place for more towels and as many warm blankets as I can get my hands on.
Unfortunately, there’s nothing for them to change into, and nowhere set up for them to sleep. The best I can offer is use of the living room for the night - some semi-comfortable furniture to sleep on and blankets to bundle up in while their clothes dry on the backs of chairs pulled close to the wood stove. The angry skeleton scowls at the suggestion, but the others take it in stride, gratefully accepting everything I give them.
As they begin to shuck out of their damp clothing, I retreat upstairs to do the same. Even after standing near the wood stove for a while, I'm still shaking with cold. Getting undressed is a process. My fingers don’t quite want to cooperate with the finer details of unzipping my pants or unbuttoning my shirt. Wringing the half-melted ice out of my hair sends bits of slush sliding unpleasantly down my back.
I shiver and shut my eyes against the sensation. What I wouldn’t give for a hot shower right now…
Still, I dry off and dig a pair of pajamas out of my bag. Back in dry clothes, I pad my way around the little puddles of water and slush I left behind and head back downstairs to check on my guests.
There are low, sleepy snippets of conversation as I approach, but they quiet at the sound of my feet on the squeaky stairs. Cautiously, keeping my eyes on the ground just in case, I knock on the wall and give them a moment before approaching.
It's a relief to see the skeletons fully bundled up and already settling in for the night, making use of the limited furniture. Two have claimed a pair of ratty armchairs closest to the wood stove. Another two are curled up on opposite ends of the loveseat. The injured skeleton still has the couch all to himself. It doesn’t look like he’s been moved an inch, but several heavy blankets have been piled on top of him. On the floor in front of the couch, the angry skeleton is sitting upright, clearly on guard. He's got a gray comforter wrapped around himself, and with only his face poking out, is doing a great impression of a cranky boulder. His eyes narrow at me when my gaze lingers on the injured skeleton for too long and I quickly look away.
“Okay, so…” I address the room at large, noting the clock on the wall for the first time. It’s nearly three in the morning. God. “If you’re all alright for the night, I’m gonna turn in. I’ll be right upstairs if you need anything…” I blow out a tired sigh. “We can… figure the rest out in the morning…”
There’s a quiet murmur of assent from the monsters and a few sleepy good nights and thank yous, and that’s good enough for me. I do a quick circle of the room, blowing out all the candles before heading back upstairs for good this time.
In my exhausted state, even the creaky old bed in my borrowed room is heaven. I crawl under the covers, curing up and snuggling in, trusting my body heat will keep me warm despite the chilly air. Outside the storm is still howling away, but I don’t pay it any mind. I'm out like a light in seconds.