Authors note: thanks for clicking! it's been a while, in fact I haven't written anything in quite literally 10+ years sooo I may be a bit rusty :'] but this was solely for fun and to get back into the habit of writing. (aka; I am not accepting constructive criticism on this one.) Anyways this is what happens when you binge the handmaids tale and devilman crybaby in the same week you just get the apocalypse story fever lmao, I hope you enjoy my fanfic even though it's for a long dead fandom [praying emoji] r.i.p secret saturdays ily jay stephens

Edit; this story was originally posted on ao3 by me (bibbleboo) so fear not! it hasnt been stolen, i just finally decided to crosspost lol

Trigger warnings for this chapter; Animal death.

POV: Doyle.


Fuck, it's cold.

Everybody's used to it by now, even Zon, but every morning that's the first thought on my mind. I really don't want to get up. I'm still tired, no matter how many hours I sleep, and I'm still cold, no matter how many layers I wear. The sun's right in my eyes. It's not motivating. The sun is out for 15 hours a day here, I have no idea how early it is. All I know is the sun still exists. 'Thank god,' I think to myself. I've learned to be grateful for normalcy.

My mind's been running for too long. Idle mornings are never good. I will myself to sit up. Fuck, it's cold. I shimmy on a long black turtleneck that I had sitting on the nightstand. I've reworn it at least twice this week. Washing clothes has become a hassle. Melting snow on the stove to make clean water really isn't the hard part, it's drying them in negative degree weather that's a bitch. No time today though. We have to go seal hunting today, Zak's least favorite activity. I wanna explain to him that his bleeding heart doesn't mean we should starve, but frankly I don't like it either. I can never get over the irony of seeing pups in the distance after a kill and knowing that I, sad little orphan boy, had just shared with them my fate.

I stand up and shake the thoughts away. Circle of life, or some shit. Not my problem. My problem is not having enough money. We need a better pot for the stove, and Zak needs new gloves. Seals are a valuable item here. Zon can catch us fish, but she can't handle the cold for more than an hour or two. It's enough to keep our fridge stocked but not enough to make a profit. Today's just one of those days where I have to be a 'responsible adult'. Those days suck, and lately they seem to be plentiful. Desperate times.

I put my coat on. Maybe I can sneak out before Zak wakes up. When we first got here he was mad every time I left, he made sure to lecture me on how wrong I was and how valuable every living creature is. Sometimes I believed him, but I knew in the end it was us versus the world. Now he insists on coming along to help, even when it's hunting. He's taken on this idea that it's his duty, that it'll make him more 'man' or something. All he does is help carry, and he always looks away before I kill it. Maybe he's just tired of staying at home, alone with his idle thoughts, like I am. Either way, I'm glad his curiosity doesn't override his innocence. Animals are his weak spot after all.

I smack my neck harshly. Now mosquitos. Mosquitos don't count as animals. They're demons. We both can agree on that.

"Where are you going?"

I look to the doorway. Shit, he's already awake.

"Sealing. We need cash." 'You don't need to come.' I want to say, but I know he'd call me out for treating him like a child.

He starts getting his winter gear on. Why do I suddenly feel like a boy scout leader. We both know you're not gonna earn your hunting badge today kiddo. If there was a badge for being the most sensitive boy in your troop, or for being able to hide your tears over dead seals, you'd have em in the bag.

"Don't forget to double up on gloves." Two pairs of ripped gloves is almost equal to one functioning pair, right?

"And you might wanna double up on socks while you're at it. I wanna sell what we catch by the end of the day. We'll be 35 miles southeast from Teller, so it'll take about a half an hour to get there."

"Yeah, if you drive at 70 miles per hour."

". . . You say that as if that's not exactly what I'm gonna do."

He looked at me with judgemental, but not surprised, eyes.

"Of course you are."

His mother invented that look. Any time I did something stupid, she'd be there to judge me for it. In a loving sibling way, of course. It was a good way to lighten the mood before my inevitable hospital trip.

I swallow hard. I shouldn't think about her right now. We need to get moving.

I toss my nephew the keys to our ridiculously fast and dangerous machine. I trust that he'll turn it on for me without trying to ride it. Not after last time. Been there, done that, got the scar to prove it.

I bought that snowmobile 4 years ago, around the same time I bought this safehouse. The cabin was cheap as it was basically abandoned, but the snowmobile was $3,500. Used. Lucky I'm so paranoid, They go for at least $5,000 these days. I wish I could remember what I was so scared of that made me decide to get a bug out shelter. Zombies? A pandemic? A zombie pandemic? Hiding from lawyers? Who knows. If I could go back in time I wouldn't dwell, I'd just be sure to pick anywhere but the Alaskan Fucking Bush.

My hands feel hot as I mount the snowmobile. 30 minutes of idle time. Of time to think. My thoughts usually lead me to wondering if the rest of my family is still alive. I think back to before all this. Before we knew Zak was Kur. When it was just us running around on a wild goose chase, helping people here and there, blissfully unaware of the situation that was about to unfold. Before Argost had found us out and was able to turn a television show into a weapon. Before he had lead the masses into being a fear mongered cult that thinks a 12 year old is a world ending anti-christ. A 12 year old that can't even watch you kill a seal.

Maybe the real reason I haven't heard from them in 3 months is more simple than I realize. Maybe they just dropped their phone. Maybe it was being tracked and they had to get rid of it. Maybe they're hiding on the other side of the world. I don't care how good of scientists they are, the reception on these things can't be that strong. I wonder if they get stuck in question loops like this. I wonder if they ever get any answers.

I slow down as we approach the basin. I didn't realize we were already this close.

My legs feel stiff as I climb down. My fingers aren't much better off as I try to pull out my harpoon. I can already spot a few small holes formed in the icey skin of the water. It's a breathing hole. Seals have to come up for air every now and then, the same way we have to leave the safety of our off-the-grid cabin to get food. Dangerous, but necessary for survival. For all we know, someone might be holding a harpoon over our heads right now.

"Get the bags ready." I say. I always bring dark ones so he doesn't have to see the blood as we head back. Opening one has proven to be a good starting ritual, it's a task that he can pretend to fumble so as to distract himself. Yknow. While I stand here and stab things in the head.

An eery feeling settles into my stomach when I notice I haven't heard a response.

"Zak?"

When I look at him he's staring right past me. I know there's nothing there, It's just miles of water and ice, but I turn to investigate anyways.

". . . I thought I heard something."

I half smile.

"Uhh. . . Like a seal?"

Cue the judgement eyes.

"No, like a cr-"

I can't hear the last part, the ice cracking violently beneath my feet is too loud. Before it gives way, I see something dark brown shoot up through the formation, shattering inches of solid ice around it like a pane of glass. It's not a seal. Way too big to be a seal. I don't have the time to analyze it. I'm submerged into pitch black darkness.

Fuck, it's cold.

The instinctual part of my brain wants me to scream but the rational part tells me to hold my breath. My body doesn't listen to either. My muscles constrict and I let go of my air all at once. My chest aches from the shock, my arms and legs are immediately enveloped in a pins and needles sensation. I can hear sounds above me, albeit muffled. It doesn't matter. I can't reach for them. I'm sinking.

Oh hey. I remember why I bought that cabin. Yellowstone. I had just watched Dante's Peak and totally freaked myself out.

A supervolcano kinda seems like a vacation at this point.