Tony killed the engine of the old Ford Ranger. The muffler's asthmatic rumble died with a final cough, leaving them immersed in the muffled sound of the surf.

  They parked on the dirt patch near the old shed, far from the military floodlights guarding the entrance.

  ?As soon as Cristy’s feet touched the damp gravel, she hugged herself. That unpleasant sensation she’d felt in the car clung to her like a greasy film.

  "It was wrong, Tony," she murmured, closing the door too hard. "That vibration... wasn't just different. It was negative. It made me nauseous."

  ?Tony walked around the hood, hands in his pockets.

  "Since when are you a psychic, Harrington? I thought you were the logic and binary code girl."

  "I don't know," she snapped. "I just know what I felt. It was dissonant. Like a badly played chord that makes you grind your teeth."

  ?"Look," Tony said, getting serious. "So far, the vibrations have worked one way: resonance. It happens when all three of us are close. If you felt something now, it can't be our signal."

  He scanned the darkness beyond the shed.

  "And by the way, I don't feel anything. No hum, no heat. Alex isn't here yet. Or he's out of range."

  ?"Maybe he's on the other side of the pier," Cristy conceded weakly.

  She unlocked her phone. The screen light illuminated her worried face.

  She opened the group chat.

  ?[Cristy]: We're at the shed. Where are you?

  ?Nothing.

  A single gray check mark.

  Message sent, but not delivered. Either his phone was off, or Alex was in a dead zone.

  Cristy felt her stomach tighten. She shoved the phone into her bag with anger. He's at a party with a girl, she told herself. Stop it.

  ?"There they are!"

  A shrill voice broke her thoughts.

  In front of the rusty shutter, Charlotte was waving. She wore the silver dress that shone under the moon and bounced on her heels with the energy of an atomic battery.

  Beside her, Tommy smiled awkwardly in a white shirt.

  ?"Cristy! Tony!" Charlotte ran to them and hugged her friend as if she hadn't seen her in years. "Oh my god, you made it! And that blue dress is insane!"

  ?"Hi Char," Cristy said, letting herself be infected for a second. "You look beautiful."

  "Hey," Tommy greeted. "Everything good, Flint?"

  "Getting by. Nice night for a swim."

  Tommy laughed nervously. "Yeah, well... hope the water isn't too freezing. Charlotte convinced me to sign up for the race."

  ?While the boys talked, Charlotte grabbed Cristy’s arm and pulled her aside.

  "He opened the door for me," she hissed, eyes shining. "And he told me I smell good. Cri, I'm gonna faint. I think this is it."

  ?Cristy looked at her. Charlotte lived in another universe, made of first dates and heart flutters, light years away from frequencies that kill. For an instant, she felt ferocious envy.

  "I told you it would be fine. Enjoy it, Char."

  ?"See you down at the bonfires?"

  "Sure. Have fun."

  ?They watched them walk away, two normal silhouettes in an abnormal night.

  As soon as they were alone, Cristy’s mask fell.

  She scanned the crowd. Looking for a red head. Looking for crooked glasses.

  She pulled out her phone again. Still one gray check.

  "He should be here," she muttered, biting her lip. "He said he had a ride."

  ?Tony watched her. He noticed her fingers gripping the phone until her knuckles turned white.

  "He'll show up, Cri. Maybe his... company is keeping him busy."

  ?Cristy turned, ready to retort, but the words died in her throat. The physical annoyance she felt at the thought of Alex with another girl scratched her sternum.

  She pushed the sensation back.

  "Look there," Tony said, pointing to the stone steps.

  ?Cristy followed his gaze.

  Billy Miller was coming down.

  He wasn't alone. Behind him were Davis and the other two, compact, heads down.

  But there was something strange.

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  "Where's the booze?" Cristy asked.

  Every year, Billy’s gang arrived with backpacks full of vodka. Tonight their hands were empty. They weren't laughing. They weren't shoving each other. They moved with grim determination.

  ?"They don't look like they're here to party," Tony muttered.

  Cristy felt her neck muscles tighten. The silence between them stretched like a violin string ready to snap.

  ?BOOM.

  ?A dry explosion made them both jump.

  Cristy let out a strangled scream, grabbing Tony’s arm. The crowd froze.

  Then, the bass dropped.

  A pounding dance beat started pumping into the air.

  It wasn't a bomb. It was the speakers on stage coming to life. Strobe lights cut the darkness.

  ?Tony exhaled, heart slowing down with effort.

  "Just music," he said. "Just shitty music."

  He looked at Cristy. She was pale, still clutching his jacket.

  "Come on, Harrington. Let's go down into the arena. If Alex is here, we'll find him."

  He offered his arm.

  ?Cristy looked at the gesture, then at Tony’s face. She took a deep breath and slipped her arm under his.

  "Let's go."

  ?As soon as they touched the sand, the sensory shockwave hit them.

  Stonemouth Beach was a pulsating heart of light and heat.

  Dozens of bonfires roared along the shoreline, defying the ocean’s darkness. Thousands of neon glowsticks created a carpet of artificial stars.

  It wasn't just kids. Up on the dunes was the old guard. Families on plaid blankets, under lit canopies. The air smelled of burnt wood, salt spray, and roasted corn.

  ?"We need to blend in," Tony said, pulling her toward a stall of glowing junk. "If we stand here with long faces, we look like two undertakers at a wedding."

  ?He grabbed a pair of star-shaped glasses with flashing blue LEDs. Shoved them on his nose.

  "So? King of the deep or phosphorescent idiot?"

  ?Cristy burst out laughing. A belly laugh, liberating.

  "Stylish idiot."

  ?"Your turn. Closed system rule: if I look stupid, you have to look stupid."

  Tony placed a crown of glowing pink corals on her head with unexpected delicacy.

  Cristy looked in the mirror. The lights illuminated her face, erasing the dark circles.

  "Okay. Maybe not too bad."

  ?"You look perfect," Tony said. And for a second, the joking tone vanished.

  ?"Calvin Harris!" someone screamed.

  The notes of Summer exploded from the speakers.

  Tony grabbed her hand and they dove toward the "Siren Bar."

  "Two Poseidon Punches!" he yelled to the bartender.

  ?The guy slid two glasses filled with blue liquid over.

  "To us," Tony shouted, raising his glass. "To the survivors."

  "To the survivors."

  ?They drank. The vodka burned pleasantly, melting the last knot of tension.

  They leaned against the counter, watching the fire.

  "My dad and mom met here," Tony said. "Twenty years ago. I like to think that for at least one night they were happy."

  ?Cristy looked at him, struck.

  "They were, Tony. I'm sure they were."

  ?"HEY! YOU TWO!"

  Buddy Collins, in an improbable Hawaiian shirt, appeared behind them with a tray.

  "Stop being philosophers! This is a party, not a funeral! Drink!"

  ?He offered them two amber shots smelling of cinnamon.

  "To Stonemouth! May she never sink!"

  ?Tony and Cristy laughed, dragged by that gravitational force.

  "To Stonemouth!"

  They downed them. Burned like liquid fire. Tasted like a promise that, at least for tonight, the monsters would stay outside.

  ?The Poseidon Punch turned out to be a sneaky enemy.

  They weren't sloppy drunk, but they had entered that gray zone where caution becomes a blurry memory.

  They danced in the crush, shoulder to shoulder. Bass hammered in their sternums.

  Tony grabbed her by the hips to keep her from being trampled by a mosh pit, and she didn't pull away. She leaned into him.

  They were too close. But alcohol made that boundary irrelevant.

  ?And then, it happened.

  Bzzz.

  An internal seismic shock.

  The vibration hit them both, starting from the chest. It wasn't cold. It wasn't dissonant.

  It was pure electricity. Warm. Golden.

  But it was too strong.

  Tony’s eyes widened, feeling muscles tense almost to tearing. Cristy gasped, as if she had swallowed the sun. It was an energy that didn't belong to a human body. It was invasive.

  ?"There he is," Tony shouted.

  The circuit had closed.

  ?Cristy looked up.

  She saw him.

  Thirty feet away, near a bonfire, was Alex.

  He wore a dark shirt. He looked different.

  But he wasn't alone.

  He had an arm around a girl's waist.

  Cindy Melbourn. Blonde, petite, floral dress. A girl made of sunshine and cotton candy.

  ?Cindy was whispering in his ear—the good one—and Alex was laughing, resting his head on her shoulder with a confidence that screamed intimacy.

  Cristy felt the warm vibration turn to acid in her stomach.

  She didn't think. She just felt the void open in her chest, sucking away the euphoria.

  ?Alex looked up. Their eyes met.

  He smiled, raising a hand to wave.

  But Cristy didn't give him time.

  She turned to Tony.

  He was looking at her, confused, breath slightly accelerated, hands still on her hips squeezing a bit too tight, as if afraid of falling.

  Cristy threw herself against him.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed. Hard.

  It wasn't a friendly hug. It was possessive, desperate. She buried her face in Tony’s neck, breathing in his scent, pressing her body against his.

  ?Tony stiffened, surprised, but the alcohol and the vibration did the rest. He encircled her waist, returning the embrace, swept away.

  ?Across the bonfire, Alex’s smile died.

  He lowered his hand.

  He stared at his two best friends entwined. Saw the way Cristy clung to Tony.

  Something froze in his expression.

  Without saying a word, Alex turned.

  He took Cindy’s hand and pulled her away, walking toward the darkness of the dunes, turning his back on them.

  ?Cristy saw his back retreating.

  The satisfaction lasted a second. Then came the nausea.

  She pulled away from Tony as if he burned. Took a step back, staggering.

  Tony looked at her, dazed, cheeks flushed.

  "Cri...?"

  ?Cristy couldn't look him in the eyes. She ran a hand over her sweaty forehead. The silence between them was heavy, embarrassing.

  "Sorry," she stammered. "It's the alcohol. I didn't mean..."

  ?Tony ran a hand through his hair. The vibration was still there, but now it was tainted.

  "Hey, easy," he said, voice too loud. "We're all spun out. Too many people."

  He looked around. Alex was gone.

  "Let's get out of here," he proposed, pointing to the shore. "Get some air."

  ?Cristy nodded without looking at him.

  "Yeah. Air."

  They pushed their way toward the black water, leaving behind the mess Cristy had just created.

  ?While the Old Pier exploded with lights, a few miles away the world had a different sound.

  In the black heart of the thicket, there was no laughter.

  There was only the labored breathing of an old house.

  ?Inside, the air was still, heavy with wax and mold.

  A figure moved in the shadows, bent, wrapped in layers of rough wool making her look like a forgotten mummy.

  Knotted hands trembled violently as they worked on the wall.

  There was no plaster. There was cork.

  Layers upon layers, nailed maniacally, covered with old blankets and egg cartons.

  With a moan, the woman pushed a tack into a loose piece of wool. She had to seal. Close every crack. Silence was the only religion that could save her.

  ?"Go away..." she whispered, voice broken.

  She spun toward the barred window, as if she heard something scratching against the glass.

  "Don't stand there... go away!"

  ?She moved quickly, snuffing out the few oil lamps with sharp gestures. Dark. She needed dark.

  "Go away, you fools!"

  ?She reached the table in the center of the room. Collapsed into the chair, exhausted.

  In front of her, a single candle still burned, casting shadows long as skeletal fingers on the padded walls.

  The old woman stared at the flame. Her chest rose and fell in a rhythm of pure panic.

  "Go away," she whispered for the last time.

  She leaned forward.

  Blew.

  The candle went out.

  And in the total darkness of the house in the woods, only silence remained. But it wasn't an empty silence. It was a wall. The last defense before the end.

  Author’s Note ??