Author: Giulia Prodiguerra. Italian-Scottish writing aficionado, jack of a very few trades. Loves art in all forms, has a soft spot for video games (but not very good at it)

The phone rang, punctual as usual.

“Hey.”
“Hey, good morning.”

The first tower, on top of the main hill, had been built a few years ago, a triumph of glass and steel, a beacon in the fog coming from the icy sea. The second one was actually the old lighthouse that had been standing at the very tip of the bay, which had remained abandoned for decades before finding its new purpose. Between them, a thick mist that had been enveloping the whole coast since the early hours of a very pale sun.

“Anything to report for the 10 am check?”
“No, all quiet, some weird readings around 8 am but they stopped almost immediately. You?”
“Same, apart from the readings, mine have been completely dead. How have you been getting on?”
“It’s been okay, however, this place gives me the creeps. Not looking forward to the next two months.”
“Not even two weeks and you’re already fed up?”
“Of course I am! And I am far more exposed than you out here. How long have you been posted up there?”
“One month gone, three to go.”
“Jeez, that’s a lot of time.”
“You get used to it. Have you brought anything to read?”
“Yeah, a few things.”
“I have some old superhero comics if you want, if you’re into that kind of stuff.”
“Wait a second.”

A crackling noise filled the air, while the wind gusts lifted clouds of snow from the slopes.

“Bloody transmission towers, can’t believe I can hear the electricity from here.”
“You’ll get used to it. Remember: the less noise you hear, the more you need to worry.”
“Oh my kettle just went off, give me a second.”

Some clinking noises filled the air.

“There we are, apologies. Everything’s different in this one compared to the other ones I have been in. Took me ages to work this stove.”
“Does it work now?”
“Yes it’s been okay, but it’s very old. I bet you have a super modern setup up there.”
“I wouldn’t say so. But I can’t complain, you’re one with the shortest straw since you’re in Ar Men.”
“In what?”
“It’s what they call Tower89.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It’s a lighthouse in France or something. In a horrible bit of waters, supposed to be cursed. I read it in a comic ages ago.”

The voice trembled.

“Great, now I really want to leave.”
“Ah, I am pulling your leg. Nothing has ever happened to that tower, it’s just in an… unlucky position considering what we’re dealing with.”
“You’re right.”

The wind was blowing gently through the rocks surrounding the lighthouse, carrying the cries of dozens of restless seagulls.

“Can I ask you something?”
“About the stove or in general?”
“In general. Do you feel like… Like what we’re doing is a bit… useless, you know?”

For what felt like a very long minute, only the recurring noises and beeps of the monitoring machines filled the silence between the two phones.

“I do. But also, I am not a scientist. I am just here to make sure the machines go ping you know? The real scientists are in the observation centers.”
“Ah, that’s a grim way of putting it, but I agree that it’s exactly what we’re doing. I feel relieved, I thought I was the only one feeling like that.”
“No, I know a few people that feel like us. But hey, a job is a job, the pay is crazy good. The risk is what it is.”
“Always wonder where they get all the money from.”
“It’s a race. The first one that finds anything out that can help deal with this problem will go down in history as a savior. No wonder millionaires and companies want their names on it. It’s not philanthropy, trust me. Otherwise, they’d be the ones risking their asses here.”
“Statistically, the risk should be pretty low, right?”
“Yes, but sometimes you gotta wonder if you’re that 1 in a million.”
“Maybe we are, or maybe if we are not, next year we’ll be here again telling each other the same thing.”

A scoff from the other side.

“Anyone waiting for you back home?”
“Apart from my parents, not really. Got divorced a couple of years ago, he didn’t like that I was spending half the year in these things, even if he knew it as soon as we started dating.”
“Maybe he was hoping you would change your mind?”
“Maybe, but let me give you some advice. Don’t ever get with someone hoping to change them. It’s a losing game.”

A clicking noise from a lighter.

“What about you, kid? Anyone standing at a window waiting for you to come back?”
“No, there’s this girl but… I don’t know. I like how much money I make here, and it’s easy. I see why you don’t want to stop despite what we said.”

They went quiet for some time, both lost in their own thoughts.

“Hey, have you ever seen them… in real life?”
“No, I was always off their so-called migration paths. You?”
“I did, bang on when it happened the first time.”
“Really? Why didn’t you say that earlier?”
“There’s not that much to say, I was very young. Also, all that footage online can recount it better than I ever could.”
“I know, I have seen plenty of photos, videos, analysis… I went down a rabbit hole for days when I was in high school. All the speculations, the theories.”
“Some were so darn stupid. And dangerous, like that guy that set fire to a whole fertilizer factory and killed like 100 people.”
“I must have missed that one.”
“Yeah, he thought the reason why the things were so huge was because they drank the fertilizers dumped in the rivers.”
“It’s not that stupid if you really think about it.”
“Sure, they had been hiding for decades chugging water, and nobody noticed them and no instruments picked them up. Come on.”

Another pause. One of the temperature indicators for the northern side of the lighthouse dropped slightly.

“Where were you when it happened?”
“Toronto.”
“Oh shit, sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“So how was it?”
“How was what?”
“Seeing them.”
“Oh right.”
A deep sigh, the lighter clicking again, a puff of smoke.

“I remember… I remember I was getting home from school. It had been a boring day, nothing had happened, not even a fight on the playground. The weather was grim, that rainy mess you get at the end of autumn, the bay completely covered by fog. My dad had picked me up and we had stopped for some groceries, I convinced him to get me a lolly or something like that. He was strict on that stuff, you know. We got home and it was pouring, when suddenly… Everything was quiet. Like, no traffic, no rustling from the bags, no steps, no raindrops on the ground. I can’t… I can’t even compare it to being underwater before sounds are muffled there. It was like…”
“…”
“…”
“Like what?”
“Like a vacuum. I still remember my dad’s expression: confused. I couldn’t understand what was happening, so I turned around to see if the neighbors had the same expression. And then I see the first one, in the distance. Hey, you still there?”
“Yes! Sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Good, I was afraid the line had dropped.”
“That’s the worst thing that can happen, right?”
“Exactly. So, as I was saying, at first, I couldn’t grasp how enormous this thing was, the size of a ship emerging from the bay. I realized it was a giant… stag. Or more like, the silhouette of it, its white eyes shining in the middle of its black face, its horns grazing the clouds, as tall as a skyscraper. It was so slow, but… relentless. Not stopping.”
“And still, no noise, right?”
“Nothing. Not even a breeze or a vibration. One minute they didn’t exist, and suddenly they were there, towering over us.”
“Were you scared?”
“No, I was actually very excited. I thought stags were really cool, like dinosaurs. It’s easy to see them in Canada. I turned to my dad and his expression was of terror, petrified. Now I was the puzzled one: I saw our neighbors coming out of their house, all looking towards this giant thing moving towards us. People in the streets were stopping their cars and taking their phones out, filming and taking pictures.”
“What happened next? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“It’s fine. This was when I started being afraid: I saw other figures coming out of the fog, the same size, but all different animals. Deers, wolves, buffalos – you mention it. They were all walking peacefully, but without changing course, in a straight line. That’s when we realized it wasn’t a hallucination. They were real, and they were just walking through everything. Houses were collapsing under their hooves, cars were getting kicked like golf balls, their chests and snouts broke through concrete like it was flour.”
“Was everything still quiet?”
“No, at this point the noise had come back, someone had pressed the unmute button. It seems to get that quiet only when they arrive, of course, we still have no idea why.”
“So I know cars weren’t starting, what did you do?”
“My dad grabbed me and ran to the basement. It wasn’t a shelter or anything, just a place to store food for the winter. I have no idea why he thought of that instead of running down the street, but it worked.”
“Is your family still alive?”
“Yeah, my mom was at home. They still live there.”
“What?”
“We moved to my aunt’s for like a year, until Tacoma happened.”
“Tacoma lasted for days, it felt like a never-ending stream.”
“Remember, even the military got involved? They threw everything at them and didn’t even flinch. Breadcrumbs against monoliths.”
“They even tried to chase them underwater and they were just… gone?”
“It’s like they’re passing… through. Like the proverbial chicken that crossed the road. And we’re just in the middle.”
“Good thing nobody actually tried the nuclear bombs yet.”
“I know, right? But you never know, they might surprise you.”
“You don’t think they’d really do it, right?”
“Not as long as they’re this close to city centers, no.”
“Sorry, why did your parents decide to go back to Toronto?”
“Ah, yes. They said: there’s no pattern, it might never happen again, or happen once we’re dead, the neighborhood is so nice, where are we going to find another place with all the people moving, and so on. It’s practically deserted now, nobody wants to live that close to the sea anymore. It doesn’t give you enough time to run.”
“My family is the opposite: we have been on the run since I was born. My mum is a bit… paranoid you know?”
“It’s hard not to be when you have no idea where and when it’s going to happen again.”
“I know. My uncle died during the Lisbon one, got hit by falling debris while he was running.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Thank you. I don’t think my mum ever recovered from it, she never stops talking about him.”

Both radios went off at the same time with a sputtering noise, the red light signaling an incoming communication from the central tower. The communication was sketchy.

“Mov… ements… on… East… Ridge… rep… as soon… min…”
“The East Ridge? Isn’t that the one far off the coast?”
“Shh, listen.”
“What?”
“Exactly. There’s not a single sound out there.”

The whole bay had fallen silent and still, the wind had stopped blowing. Even the snow that had been dancing outside had suddenly stopped, the last snowflakes delicately sticking to the window.

“Here we go. 1 in a million.”
“Can… Can you please not hang up?”
“Are you scared?”
“A bit.”
“We have to run now, you know?”
“They’re… They’re beautiful.”

Those were the last words before both phones went silent.