1970

Chapter six: Garage Talk

 The gravel crunched under their feet as they piled out of Quinn's Volkswagen. The farm stretched out before them, dark shapes of buildings silhouetted against the twilight sky. Corbat had woken up during the drive, but still clung to Valerie's hand, unusually quiet.

A blur of grey and white launched from the shadows of the porch, and Valerie barely had time to brace herself before Tonrar slammed into her with enough force to make her stumble. The husky's tail wagged furiously as he licked her face, ignoring everyone else completely.

"Every single time," Quinn muttered, amusement coloring his words. "What'd you do, Val? Stuff your pockets with bacon?"

Loch snickered, keeping a safe distance. "Maybe she's secretly a dog whisperer."

"More like Tonrar whisperer," Hailey chimed in, leaning against Quinn's car. "Have you ever seen Tonrar even look at anyone else? Like, seriously?"

"Rest of us might as well be furniture."Quinn remarked, amusement coloring his words as he circled the car.

Loch snorted, pulling her hair into a messy bun. "More like obstacles. Remember when he tripped you into that mud puddle?"

"That was deliberate and you know it," Quinn grumbled, but his lips twitched with badly suppressed humor.

Valerie scratched behind the dog's ears, trying to calm his enthusiasm. For a moment—just a fraction of a second—something seemed off about the way his fur caught the dying light, like it wasn't quite solid. She blinked, and the impression vanished. Just nerves, she told herself. The strange encounter at the clinic had her seeing things.

"Oi! Get off her, you oversized furball!" Husky's voice boomed across the yard. He emerged from the garage, wiping his hands on a rag that might have been clean sometime last century. Motor oil streaked his blonde hair where he'd pushed it back from his forehead, and his ever-present leather jacket was tied around his waist. "Sorry about him, Val. He's got no manners."

Tonrar finally backed off, but stayed pressed against Valerie's leg. Corbat reached out tentatively to pat the dog's head, earning a gentle lick to his hand.

"Come on," Husky said, gesturing toward the garage. "Already ordered pizza"

—---------

The garage was Husky's domain, a controlled chaos of tools and parts and half-finished projects. In the center, his motorcycle sat like a patient creature waiting to be brought to life. The radio played softly in the corner—was that the Jackson Five? Husky quickly changed the station when he caught them looking, his ears turning slightly red.

"So what's the emergency meeting about?" he asked, pulling up some crates for them to sit on. The familiar smell of motor oil and metal filled the air, oddly comforting after the events of the afternoon.

Valerie opened her mouth to downplay it, but Quinn was already pulling out his journal. "Val had a visitor at the clinic today. Tell them what you saw."

"It wasn't—" Valerie started, then stopped, catching the way Corbat was watching her. "It was probably nothing. Just got spooked being alone in the clinic."

"Spooked by what?" Hailey scooted closer, concern evident in her voice. Her knee brushed against Loch's, neither of them seeming to notice.

"A man came in," Valerie said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "He was... tall. Too tall. And his shadow—" She broke off, shaking her head. "It sounds crazy when I say it out loud."

"His shadow moved wrong," Corbat supplied quietly. Everyone turned to look at him. "Like the ones outside our window."

Quinn was practically vibrating with excitement. "It's just like what Mr. Patterson was talking about in class today, remember?" He looked at Husky. "About the reports after the '60s earthquake?"

"Oh no," Loch groaned. "Not the earthquake conspiracy again."

"It's not a conspiracy if there's evidence," Quinn shot back. "People all over Alaska reported strange sightings after the quake. Distorted shadows, unexplained figures, weird lights in the sky—"

"And let me guess," Loch interrupted, "Elvis was behind it all?"

"You weren't there for the conversation at lunch," Husky said, his usual teasing tone absent. He'd stopped working on the motorcycle, his hands still on a wrench. "What Patterson said about his grandfather's journals—"

The sudden sound of tires on gravel cut him off. Through the garage door, they could see headlights sweeping across the yard.

"Pizza's here!" Hailey jumped up with suspicious enthusiasm. "I'm starving. Who's hungry? Everyone's hungry, right?"

"Hailey—" Quinn started, but she was already heading for the door.

"I'll help," Loch said quickly, following her out.

Valerie watched them go, noting the way Hailey's hands had started to shake slightly before she'd shoved them into her pockets. Sometimes she wondered if they all had things they were trying not to see, trying not to think about.

Husky turned back to his motorcycle, the clink of tools filling the awkward silence. Tonrar had settled at Valerie's feet, his warmth reassuring against her leg. Corbat had found a piece of wire and was bending it into intricate shapes, his face scrunched in concentration.

"The shadows were wrong today," he said again, not looking up from his work. "They're getting wronger."

Quinn opened his mouth, probably to ask what Corbat meant, but Valerie caught his eye and shook her head slightly. Some questions were better left for daylight.

—----------

When Hailey and Loch returned with the pizzas, the conversation shifted to safer topics: complaints about upcoming finals, plans for summer break excluding the monster haunting, debates about music that devolved into friendly arguments. But Valerie noticed how Quinn kept glancing at his journal, how Husky's hands weren't quite steady on his tools, how Hailey laughed a little too loudly at every joke.

Outside, the night deepened, and somewhere in the darkness, shadows moved in ways that shadows shouldn't. But here in the garage, surrounded by the comfortable chaos of friendship and pizza and half-finished projects, it was almost possible to believe that everything was normal.

Almost.

Tonrar lifted his head suddenly, ears pricked toward something none of them could hear. In the brief silence that followed, Valerie could have sworn she heard it too—a sound like distant bells, or maybe singing, carried on a wind that shouldn't have been able to reach them here.

But when she looked at the others, no one else seemed to have noticed. Just nerves, she told herself again. Just nerves, and shadows, and the weight of questions they weren't quite ready to ask.

The night stretched on, and somewhere in the distance, the Kinkik River flowed beneath a sky full of stars that seemed to shine just a little too brightly.