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Summer Triangle Chapter 38

Dry texters had always annoyed Dipper. Feeling like he was the only one carrying the conversation usually made him lose interest. Why would he want to force a conversation with someone who clearly didn’t reciprocate his energy?

Pacifica was an exception. Her texts were dry in a way that Dipper knew she was listening, but that she didn’t feel like typing it all out. A contraction as opposed to laziness, if that made sense. 

Getting a call from her was rare. Her family had made it clear that they didn’t like her associating with the “poor” –which to them, was anyone with a net worth under ten million dollars– and Dipper certainly fit that description. Their interaction had been kept secret for quite some time. Dipper wondered if, for a moment, their ruse would work. She would only ever call him if it was an emergency. In fact, that night was the first time they had spoken on the phone since his trip to the Northwest Mansion six years ago. 

She had called him asking about the earthquake damage and how to look for shapeshifters. Pacifica had grown paranoid that the shapeshifters had taken her parents. Dipper couldn’t confirm or deny that, although he told her to keep her eyes open for any strange activity. Her parents hadn’t done anything to harm her, at least not that she told him about. All she could do was wait until she had a safer place to be.

“Wendy said you can stay with us, if you feel safer doing that,” Dipper had said, “We’ve got a shapeshifter retina-scanner. It’ll tell us if you’re safe or not. Grunkle Ford made it.”

“I can come over tomorrow,” Pacifica said hesitantly, “If the others are okay with it…”

“They are.”

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Summer Triangle Chapter 37

Two pointed ears appeared in Wendy’s sights.

Iron sights had been her go-to since the day dad put a rifle in her hands. She knew that scopes had their place, but there was something charming about the almost primitive nature of iron sights. They had been used for centuries. If mid-millennia hunters could do it, then so could she.

Coyote season was up and running. Gravity Falls had its fair share, many of whom took pleasure in slaughtering the town’s livestock. Wendy had hunted them hundreds of times before. A few more wouldn’t hurt. Plus, in her mind, it was a good way to blow off some steam.

Two weeks had come and gone since their fateful visit to the hospital. Ford wasn’t a fan of her continued journeys to and from the Mystery Shack, but what else could she do? Someone had to keep an eye on her family. Especially when she had a father that didn’t believe in shapeshifters and the danger they posed. It was like yelling into a brick wall with biceps and an axe.

As far as she knew, nothing had changed with the others, aside from nightly ruminations from Ford and Dipper. Sometimes Mabel would text her in the middle of the night asking to chat. Wendy always answered. The texts, although mundane, carried a worrying undertone. Mabel was almost always asleep by midnight. The growing midnight messages were either a sign of anxiety, insomnia, or some combination of the two. The Pines family was holding itself together for the moment. Sooner or later, Wendy feared that someone would break, and that there would be too many pieces to pick up. 

Ford had told Mabel to look for shapeshifters while hunting. He made it clear that he didn’t approve of her leaving, but decided to use her for research. She could only say “Kafkaesque” so many times before her tongue began to tire. It was worth it to maintain the peace. Better that than to let a shapeshifter infiltrate the ranks.

Something was off about the town. More than usual. Wendy couldn’t tell if it was her hypervigilance, or her general weariness towards people, but everything rubbed her the wrong way. Crossing guards. Old ladies crossing the street. Creepy men standing in front of diners. Other hunters in the woods. For the most part, she only interacted with the Mystery Shack, and her family. Anyone else was viewed with heavy scrutiny. 

Bang!

Wendy pulled the trigger and sent the bullet flying from her rifle and into the head of the coyote. It fell to the ground without so much as a yelp. Its pointed ears disappeared from her sight and found a home amongst the grass. 

The shockwave from the blast scared away nearby birds and deer. Fawns trailed their mothers and squirrels hurried into their treetop shelters. Leaves rustled as the escaping animals brushed against their verdant sides. 

“Sorry, buddy,” Wendy said, walking over to the coyote and placing a hand on its side, “Population control. You’re killing too many sheep.”

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Summer Triangle Chapter 36

Stanford’s throat began to burn from his nonstop coffee drinking.

The dim light bulbs on his overhead lights had begun to defiantly flicker. Stanford would have to put some time aside to fix them, although he didn’t anticipate a break coming any time soon.

He placed a hand on his nose, only for it to come back covered in oil from his skin. Sweat had soaked into his lab coat and given it a musty aroma like a full-body gym bag. His vision came in and out of focus, with the heaviness of sleep weighing on Stanford’s eyelids and trying to lure him into the dangerous world of comfort. 

“Fiddleford, why did you have to make this so difficult?” Stanford sighed.

The lab was slowly becoming a prison. Stanford no longer had any will to reach for the key. Bill could try all he wanted, but Stanford would spend a thousand years in that lab if he had to. Bill wasn’t getting ahold of Dipper, or anyone else in the Pines family for that matter. Not unless it was over his cold, dead, metal-laden cranium.

A plate filled with dinner from earlier in the evening sat next to a mountain of empty coffee mugs. His seismograph let out its rhythmic hums as it clattered away at monitoring the area. No readings of note yet. There hadn’t been an earthquake in a couple of days. Stanford was growing suspicious.

That part wasn’t important. Yet. His first priority was decoding the letter. He figured he was about halfway done, with the night’s most recent round of translations sitting on a piece of paper in front of him. 

AXOLOTL. MY TIME HAS COME TO BURN. I INVOKE THE ANCIENT POWER. SO THAT MAY RETURN.

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Summer Triangle Chapter 35

It was dinnertime when Mabel worked up the courage to return downstairs. 

A day of watching old movies and eating sugar by the spoonful had recharged her. For a few hours, her problems were lost in a television screen and sugar coma. Soos and Wendy were in the kitchen when she returned, with Mabel giving them a coy wave as they met her gaze.

“Hey, Mabel!” Wendy waved, hair soaked with a raincoat around her shoulders, “Staying dry?”

“Yeah,” Mabel replied.

Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford were at the stove cooking something over the fire. Mabel could smell garlic and onion, but that could have just been Grunkle Stan’s natural odor. 

“Where’s Dipper?” Mabel asked.

“Same place he’s been all day,” Grunkle Ford said, “I translated more of McGucket’s note today. I’ll be discussing it at dinner.”

“Cool.”

Her heart sank at the mention of the note. As alluring as the information was, Mabel knew that she would be happier if she didn’t know it. It was a bell that could not be unrung. That note only served to confirm her worst suspicions. 

Walking into the living room, she was met with a pallid Dipper, although he seemed to be doing better than he was that morning. He was scribbling away in a notebook while sneaking glances at his phone. She couldn’t tell if he was looking at notes or checking for texts. He was usually checking for notes when he was on his phone, but with Pacifica in the picture, he could have been talking to her. Mabel never thought she would see the day Dipper texted a girl and smiled. It was endearing, although a bit of a shock to her system. 

“Hey, Mabel,” Dipper said, scribbling on his notebook, “I’ve been looking at the notes we took at Tate’s place. I’ve got something. Look.”

Mabel sat down at the side of Dipper’s pull-out bed, the cushion deforming as she did so. Waddles climbed up on her leg and joined her. 

Penmanship was not one of Dipper’s specialties. In fact, his handwriting was more like chicken-scratch. His drawings were even worse. She could make out the basics. A triangle with a top hat and an eye, a prism, and what appeared to be a deformed frog or a salamander. Mabel couldn’t quite make it out. With how much Dipper struggled to draw shapes, she was amazed he had even managed to get the general outline right. There was a fourth shape on the right that didn’t look like anything at all. To the side, Mabel saw a sketch of a city with “Gravity Falls” written in bold, uneven letters. She figured that his last drawing was some sort of map. 

“Dipper, we really have to work on your penmanship,” Mabel scolded, trying not to look him in his fading eyes, “I can barely read this.”

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Summer Triangle Chapter 34

Cooking was the best way of dealing with an existential threat.

Making pancakes was truly an art. It had taken Mabel years of early morning fire alarms, burnt dough, sticky batter, and dropping pans to perfect her pancake recipe. She had found that doubling the sugar content tied the dish together. No one could be sad while eating diabetes-inducing pancakes. It was simple science.

That morning, Mabel learned that Grunkle Stan had never actually seen her cook.

“Oh my god!” Grunkle Stan screamed, “Get the fire extinguisher! And get my money out of the wall safe!”

Mabel turned around, barely illuminated by the dim light of early morning. Grunkle Stan stood in the doorway to the kitchen with his hands on his head.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel replied, gesticulating with a spatula, “It’s me! Mabel!”

The urgency left Grunkle Stan’s eyes, “Oh. Sorry, kid. Not used to seeing you in the kitchen. Always associated that with fire…”

“Hey, I’ve only started three, thank you very much!”

Grunkle Stan rummaged through the fridge while Mabel continued cooking. The sugar was kept in a conveniently labeled container on the counter, Mabel watched the crystalline powder with a watering mouth. Sugar really did make everything better. Bad for the heart, good for the soul. Like most things in life. 

“Since when can you cook?” Grunkle Stan asked, “I don’t remember that…”

“Since tenth grade,”  Mabel replied matter-of-factly, “Had enough of watching dad eat microwave dinners. You men are animals. How do you eat like that?”

“I like salt. You like sugar. It’s pretty simple.”

“Well, have you ever had a Mabel Pines-cake?”

“Do you have to give everything a silly name?”

“Aren’t you the guy that gave us Stan-cakes?”

“That’s different. Stan-cakes are an underappreciated work of art. Pines-cakes are diabetes with syrup. How much sugar did you put in those?”

Grunkle Stan pointed at one of Mabel’s pancakes, the batter of which had begun to congeal from the high sugar content, small bubbles rising to the surface. Mabel grinned and pointed to the half-empty sugar container on the opposite end of the counter. It was a sad little thing, with googly-eyes mounted on the top to give it the appearance of a frog. 

“You know what they say, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel smiled, “A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down!”

“...and a jar full of sugar gives you type two diabetes,” Grunkle Stan added, “But…a little taste wouldn’t hurt…”

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Summer Triangle Chapter 33

Pacifica almost forgot how much she hated the feeling of wet hair.

Trudging through the parking lot and flagging down a taxi had been bad enough. Knowing what waited for her at the mansion was even worse.

She should have come up with a better excuse. The angry texts were all Pacifica needed to know that her cover had been blown. Damn those Buffets and their flapping lips. There was nothing worse in the world than an angry billionaire. All of the anger, and enough money to do something with it.

Spending the night in the hospital, although uncomfortable, had been her first chance at relaxation in what felt like years. Sitting there through the darkness and carrying on conversation without ever mentioning money, not once having to reach for a checkbook or defend her investment choices. 

Sending her first message had been nerve-wracking. Unlike the other numbers in her phone, Pacifica cared about how Dipper felt about her. She couldn’t afford to drive him away. The Pines family was her only ticket out.

It had taken some time to drop her corporate persona and text like a person again. Even with Mother and Father, she was forced to speak in opulent prose, mounted on a pedestal like a golden calf for all to worship. Some day, she hoped, she could wake up to a message on her phone that didn’t look like a robot had typed it out.

“Where am I taking you?” the driver asked, Pacifica staring at his eyes through the rearview mirror.

“Corner of fifth and Preston,” Pacifica said, “I know it’s out of town. I’ll pay you extra for it. Promise.”

“Whatever.”

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Summer Triangle Chapter 32

“Inconclusive.”

“What?”

“The tests all came back negative.”

Early morning had come and gone. Dipper had passed most of the morning staring out the window at the rain-laden sky. Small puddles formed beneath the window sill as the grass became a dark green, hydrated by the seemingly endless showers. Birds flew from the treetops and buried their heads in the ground. Bright pink worms soon found their ways into the birds’ beaks. Just as quickly as they had landed, the birds disappeared into the air, the worms unwillingly dragged along for the ride.

Dipper raised an eyebrow at his nurse. 

“Are you sure?” Dipper asked, “Maybe the samples got switched…”

The nurse shook her head, “I wouldn’t worry about it. Could just be a bad cold. Or maybe a bad stomach bug.”

“Maybe?”

“Well, we can’t test for anything else. We’d have to refer you to a specialist.”

For a moment, it seemed as if his worst fears were coming true. A nameless disease silently destroying Dipper from the inside out. The laughter, the dreams, and the warning from McGucket all made sense.

He clung to every bit of hope that the doctor was wrong. Maybe there was a test that they hadn’t run. Maybe Dipper had given a bad sample. Was it possible that the virus had moved out of his bloodstream in the spot they took the sample from? No, that couldn’t happen. Right?

Although Dipper couldn’t see it, he could feel the color draining from his face, heart thumping against his throbbing and bandaged head.

“So now what?” Dipper asked.

“We send you home,” the nurse said, “We wrote a prescription for more Zofran and Naproxen. Should be at your pharmacy before the day ends.”

“That’s it?”

“There’s nothing else we can do. Your vitals are all where they should be, and our scans show no significant brain damage. You’re very lucky. Should be clear to sleep and everything.” 

“But…okay…”

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Summer Triangle Chapter 31

Sharp fibers of rope cut into Dipper’s hands, scratching them raw as salt water poured up from over the railing onto his wounds.

Sailing was one of Dipper’s least favorite things to do. Titanic had taught him that. He had no idea how he had ended up on the craft, nor was he sure how he would find a way off, if such a thing was even possible. 

A dim moon illuminated gray clouds over Dipper’s head. The waves of the Pacific tossed him back and forth like a toy in a bathtub. He leaned over the railing more than once to hack up whatever food he had managed to keep down. 

No one else was present on the boat. Not that Dipper could see, anyway. He recognized it easily enough. He was standing on the decks of the tarnished Stan O��War, with its one proud masts having been reduced to shreds against the ferocious gale. The single deck house protecting the wheel had boards peeling off. Shattered glass littered the floor and was tossed around the deck with the pitching of the boat. With each rise and fall of the vessel, more of its body came undone, the wooden structure groaning like a beast with a fatal wound. White paint was covered with barnacles and rotting away. Gashes opened up in the hull. The Stan O’War was taking on water. 

A broken radio lay just atop the steering wheel. Dipper threw himself against the wind and into the bridge, where the rain hit his face with the sharpness of at thousand needles, breaking against his skin like glass and leaving red marks in their wake. 

Washing over the deck with Odyssian ferocity, sea spray from a bow-bound wave washed up and soaked the deck. A life preserver mounted just aft of the starboard railing disappeared into the waves. Only by the dim light of an overhead navigation lamp was Dipper able to see. 

The night was eternal. He had no hope of the sun rising or the clouds clearing. Dipper Pines was on his own on the open ocean with no one to help him.

A familiar, high pitched, triangular laugh rang out from above him. It quickly drowned out the thunder. It seemed to anger the sea the longer it continued, with the waves growing higher. 

“Bill, what do you want?!” Dipper hissed, recognizing the voice,

“Come on!”

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Summer Triangle Chapter 30

So much light.

“T-Turn that off…”

Dipper rubbed his eyes with an aching hand. His ears rang, a horrible frequency that intensified his already horrible headache. He could feel the tight hug of a bandage around the top of his head. The backs of his eyes hurt with each movement. A machine behind his head beeped, and an IV had been put through his right arm. His vision was blurry. Where was he?

“Hey, he’s awake!” a soft voice cheered, “Dipper?!”

“Easy, Mabel,” another voice replied, “One step at a time…”

The memory slowly came back to him. The headache, the vomit, the dizziness, and answering the door. There clearly hadn’t been a shapeshifter. Dipper wondered if his notes were safe back home. Maybe he should ask someone to go get them. He was all laid up, might as well do something useful with his time. 

Slowly, the blur around his vision cleared. He saw a bright light and a series of heads standing over him. The mechanical beeping and pitter-patter of rain atop the roof told Dipper he was in a hospital. Gravity Falls didn’t have one. They must have taken him somewhere else. A shame, really. He had always wanted to know what it was like inside of an ambulance. The one time he was able to ride in one, he was unconscious. 

Mabel was the first face he saw. Candy, Grenda, and a couple of other faces that he didn’t recognize were standing with them. She must have been the one at the door. Wendy was to his right. Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford to his left. They were soaked, presumably from the evening rain, and were panting like a bunch of exhausted dogs. 

There was another figure somewhere to the side. Dipper couldn’t quite make them out, but he assumed it to be a doctor. 

“You dummy!” Mabel scolded, “Scaring us like that! I came as soon as I got the call. Grenda had to drive all of us, and I had to ride in the trunk, and-”

“Mabel,” Wendy said again, patting her head, “Calm down.”

“Dipper, follow my finger!” Grunkle Ford ordered, waving his gloved index finger in front of Dipper’s face, “Can you see it?”

Dipper grimaced, “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

Whatever the nurse was giving him through the IV, Dipper wanted more of it. It muffled his symptoms and made them almost bearable. The nausea was almost completely gone. All he would have to deal with was a headache. And whatever was wrapped around his wrist. 

The room was a bit too loud and a bit too bright. He tried to move his arm to cover his ears, only to remember that he had an IV attached to it, instead awkwardly turning his head to try and cover his ears with the top of the pillow. 

“You said you got a call?” Dipper murmured, “Weren’t you the one I saw at the door?”

Mabel shook her head, “Yeah. About that…”

Stepping to her side, Mabel revealed the anonymous benefactor that had gotten Dipper to the hospital. 

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Summer Triangle Chapter 29

“Wendy, take this. Your hands are steadier than mine. Probably.”

An arduous eight hours had passed since their return to the house, with Wendy feeling older by the minute. Stan and Ford poked and prodded at the shapeshifter’s body like it was a middle school science experiment. Its limbs had long since lost their color. A sour aroma emanated from the body with the onset of decay. Wendy was beginning to grow tired and weary of being in its presence, wanting nothing more than to throw the body into an incinerator. 

Ford handed Wendy a needle and directed her towards one of the shapeshifter’s veins. She didn’t need much help in finding it, with the vein poking out like a nail in a board. The skin popped with the same energy as a fork entering a sausage. She then drew the back of the syringe back and drew the blood sample.

“What are you doing with this?” Wendy asked.

“I want to see how the blood reacts,” Ford said, “I’ve never been able to get this close to a shapeshifter before.”

“Weren’t you keeping it in your bunker?”

“Cryogenically frozen, yes. A lot harder to get blood that way.”

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Summer Triangle Chapter 28

“If you get me sick, I swear…”

Being the –five minutes older– sister, Mabel had an obligation to help her brother. Through sickness, health, dorkiness, and spite. Whether she liked it or not, they had the bond of twins, and wouldn’t be able to shake each other if they tried.

Never did Mabel think she would find herself dragging Dipper by his limp arms down the front stairs and tossing him into the back of the truck like a dead body. His skin was clammy and rapidly losing its color. Mabel knew that Dipper was supposed to see a doctor the next day, but part of her wondered if they could wait that long. She was well-aware of the existence of the man-flu. Dad had it, and chances were, it ran in the family. Dipper could hardly function when he caught a cold. That being said, she had never seen anything like that, and never during the summer. She would have been less worried if it was flu season. 

“I won’t…” Dipper groaned, “I promise…”

Mabel’s arms screamed for relief. She was too busy taking care of Waddles and being the life of the party to exercise. What more could she do? Her back already ached from carrying the energy of the family for the last eighteen years.

“You’d better wear your seatbelt,” Mabel grumbled, “If you can even do that…”

He replied with a hoarse voice, “Yes, I can.”

“Okay. If you start feeling sick, just tell me. I’ll pull over. Dr. Mabel Pines will happily call you an ambulance.”

Driving with Dipper in the car was always an experience. Not that he was anywhere as bad as their mother, not even close, but him being an uptight dork made things difficult. Going five miles over the speed limit was a cardinal sin in his eyes. If she dared to take a wide turn, or do a California stop, or hit the curb, she would never hear the end of it. Dipper definitely got his anxious side from his mom. 

“You’re not going to judge my driving, okay?” Mabel said. 

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Summer Triangle Chapter 27

Day eight of feeling like garbage. 

Dipper dragged himself out of bed to a silent Mystery Shack. He sniffled through his nose and rubbed his temples while glancing out the front window. Both Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford’s cars were gone. They must have left early in the morning, seeing that Dipper hadn’t seen them leave and it was hardly past eight in the morning. 

The Mystery Shack was closed again for repairs from the earthquake, meaning Soos was still asleep, along with Mabel. Wendy had left sometime during the night. Dipper wondered if Mabel had even come home. He hadn’t bothered to check her bed that morning, only sliding out from the comfort of his sheets for some ibuprofen. 

Not much happened in the house without the Grunkles. He checked his phone, finding two missed messages. One from Grunkle Ford, another one from Wendy. 

Grunkle Ford: Dipper, I’m off to the Corduroy’s. Something attacked them last night. I want to talk to you later. Fiddleford’s metal sheet is telling me some things. When you’re feeling better, let me know. 

Wendy: Hey, dude. Your grunkles are at my place right now. Shapeshifter. I found Tate at the diner today and he took me back to the house. McGucket wrote a lot down. I need your thoughts on it. I’ll see you later, okay? 

Dipper scratched his head. Two messages in one day meant something was wrong. He peered out the window again and waited for the cars to return. All he could do was sit back and wonder what was going on. 

A shapeshifter? Had Dipper read that right? The only shapeshifter that he knew of was trapped inside of the bunker, cryogenically frozen where no one would find it. The only thing he could think of was the earthquake loosening the machinery and damaging the bunker. But how would it have found Wendy? It knew nothing about the world on the surface. 

The thought of a shapeshifter being on the loose was all Dipper needed to activate the anxious side of his brain. It had taken years to get over their first encounter, with Dipper and Mabel constantly checking each other to make sure that they had not been shapeshifted. He had narrowly avoided death once. Who was to say he would be that lucky again?

Breakfast could wait. He no longer had an appetite, instead rushing upstairs and grabbing Journal Four. He placed it on the kitchen table and skimmed over the pages for anything about the shapeshifters, only to come up empty. No amount of equations or vampire bats could give him an answer. 

McGucket was a math man. Dipper knew that, but he couldn't shake the disappointment that there was nothing in the journal that would help him. Grunkle Ford’s journal had saved his life time and time again. McGucket’s had not. 

He tried to pass the time by looking at his phone. The day was young, and his eyes were blurred by the remnants of sleep. Not even the brightness of the morning sun could drive out the clouds of dread that were rising within him. Gravity Falls was reviving its weirdness.

Footsteps from behind caused Dipper to turn around. A groggy Mabel stumbled down the stairs, yawning loudly and rounding the corner to the kitchen.

“Dipper!” Mabel cheered, “I had the best night last night-”

Dipper groggily rose to his feet and stumbled to the counter, arming himself with a wooden spoon, “Stand back! How do I know that you’re the real Mabel?’

“Dipper?” 

“You heard me. Prove to me that you’re Mabel!”

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Summer Triangle Chapter 26 (Act II)

“Should be all rigged up…”

Sitting in the house all day would do nothing. With the help of her brothers, Wendy had rigged up an apparatus to keep the shapeshifter in place should it somehow rise from the dead. Sam had supplied her with a motion-sensing camera from the hunting spots deeper in the woods. Any movement would trigger a pulley and grab the shapeshifter's limbs. If that didn’t work, they had blocked the beast inside with the living room couch and coffee table. The only way that thing was getting out was if it ripped the house off of its foundation.

“I’m gonna go grab some breakfast and bring Stan and Ford over here,” Wendy said, “You guys keep an eye on this. You have your guns, right?”

Sam saluted, “Yes!”

“If that thing moves, you blow it up, okay? No mercy!”

Her brothers cheered. 

Wendy, at first, wasn’t comfortable leaving her family alone with the shapeshifter. She only allowed herself to do so when she remembered her brothers’ love of shooting. If that shapeshifter somehow reanimated itself, they would blast it away before it had a chance to stand up. The motion-detection and rigged trap were there purely for backup and peace of mind. 

“You guys want anything at the diner?” Wendy asked, “I’ll be fast. You’ve gotta be getting tired of venison by now.”

Her brothers shook their heads.

“If anything happens, call me,” Wendy said, halfway out the door, “I know it probably won’t. But just in case. I don’t want dad alone in the house with this thing.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Jack said enthusiastically.

“Okay.”

Wendy slipped out the door. She took a final glance through the window to make sure that the shapeshifter was still dead. Nothing short of a miracle could bring that thing back to life. Staying in the house would do her no good. She had been up for most of the night ruminating, convinced that each small creak in the floorboard or thump against the wall was the reanimated shapeshifter. Her sleep had been disturbed by vivid nightmares and auditory hallucinations, even laughter at some points. Fresh air was the only thing that could keep her from flying over the edge into insanity. 

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Summer Triangle Chapter 25

“Dad?!” Wendy’s eyes shot open as a golden statue stared at her from the corner of her living room. She must have dozed off, working another long shift at the Mystery Shack. 

The golden statue was one of a heavy-set, larger, muscular man, with a ginger beard and lumberjack’s cap to boot. The familiarity was unmistakable. Dad had the same expression of agony on his face Wendy had seen during Weirdmageddon, the only time in her life she had genuinely worried for his safety. Dad was built like a tank. It would take nothing short of an interdimensional demon to take him out. 

Yet, there he was, frozen in place with eyes and mouth agape. Her brother’s weren’t too far behind, scattered about the living room in various phases of escape. Sam was halfway out the living room window. His golden arms were frozen to the frame. Tommy’s half-turned body stared back at Wendy as if caught by surprise. Jack was still on the floor, lying down as if half asleep. A pool of red spilled from his forehead. 

A cold breeze hit Wendy from the front door. Without thinking, she ran over to the metallic remains of her family, clutching them like broken pieces of glass and clawing at them to try and get any sort of response. Even with her years of lifting, she could no longer lift them, dad falling out of his chair and splintering the spruce wooden floor. Wendy dug her hands into the sharp kindling and tried to dig him out. The wood dug into her hands and beneath her fingernails. A fountain of red soon poured from her raw hands. Wendy no longer cared. 

“Wake up!” Wendy shouted, “Come on! Please!”

Her breath turned sour as hyperventilation forced air into the back of her throat and stung the tissue. Tears began to well in her eyes, not caring if her family saw them. All she received in return was dad’s dead stare.

She turned him over and began chest compressions. It was futile, given that golden lungs couldn't breathe, but it was worth a shot. She pressed down as hard as she could, so hard that the bones in her fingers began to crack. His chest didn’t move. Wendy would’ve been better off trying to raise a skeleton. 

She screamed until her throat was raw. Wendy only stopped when she heard rustling in the bushes outside.

“Hey!” Wendy shouted, reaching for the knife attached to her hip, “Hello?!”

There was no response. She backed up against the wall, almost falling over the remains of her petrified brother. Her limbs grew weak, the world around Wendy spinning as if she was in the center of a washing machine, tripping over her own feet and slamming into the back wall and knocking over a family portrait. 

Her head slammed into the ground. Wendy pulled herself up with her non-mangled hand, hyperventilating so strongly that her vision was beginning to go blurry. She pulled herself up from the floor and rose just in time to watch a shrouded figure stumble through the door.

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Summer Triangle Chapter 24

Mother and Father wouldn’t miss the yacht. They didn’t care about anything if there wasn’t a dollar sign attached to it.

Pacifica Northwest had become a master of stealth. The relaxing motion of the waves almost made the two-mile walk to the dock worth it. She sat on the upper decks of the family yacht, closing her eyes and ignoring the phantom calls of executives that demanded her attention. For the first time in months, the yacht was silent, with only Pacifica and the lapping of waves at the sides of the hull disturbing the peace.

Nights out on the yacht had become routine. Every few months, she would find a time to sneak out to the port and drift on the open sea, always careful to keep the mooring ropes attached. Wasn’t like the yacht was being used for anything better. The way Pacifica used it, there was no noise, pollution, or capitalism. Just the stars.

The light pollution could have been lower. Pacifica fantasized about losing herself in the darkness of a Bortle-2 sky, where the only light that got through was the glowing of the galactic core overhead. She had seen pictures of it before. If only she could experience it for herself. Closing her eyes, she could see the glow of the galaxy, undisturbed by the hustle and bustle of city life, some new matter always demanding their attention .

Gravity Falls Lake would have to do for the moment. The stars were still beautiful, with hundreds of tiny specks of red, blue, and white filling up the sky, the occasional satellite passing overhead and disturbing her view. And no one could forget about the planets, Jupiter shining defiantly in the east while Venus and Mars crept anxiously along the southern horizon. Saturn was somewhere beneath her, but would probably rise before the sun did. 

Her phone sat somewhere on the lower decks, just like her wallet. She didn’t need any distractions. The brightness of the phone would hurt her eyes and take away the adjustment to the darkness that they had made. The night was alive with the cosmic march of the stars across the celestial dome. Little by little, they inched along, imperceptible to Pacifica. The rocking of the yacht wasn’t helping. The lake was choppier than usual that night, probably from the myriad of earthquakes.

Last Pacifica heard, Mother and Father were forcing the gardeners to help fill a crack in the ground that had formed outside of their house after the last quake. That, of course, had only happened after the executives left well into the night. It was well past eleven by the time the last of the suited moneybags left the foyer, still angrily murmuring about the fireworks show that had disturbed their ever-so-important meeting. 

Mabel Pines was the last face that she expected to see. The warmth of her awkward embrace lingered even in her absence. Pacifica thanked her lucky stars that Mother and Father hadn’t seen her. The Pines name was a curse word around them. They had never forgiven Dipper for freeing them from the ghosts, still insisting that their panic room would have worked out just fine. 

Dipper.

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Summer Triangle Chapter 23

“Grunkle Ford, we’re okay! I promise!”

Mabel waited for Grunkle Ford to let her go before ending the call. By then, the shaking had largely come to a stop, with the aftershocks hardly registering as more than a light vibration. Most of the damage had been done downtown. At Candy’s house, all they had lost was a glass of water left on the table. 

“Stupid earthquake!” Grenda screamed, “Ruining my drinks!”

The earthquake had caught the trio by surprise. There they had been, packing up their things and getting ready to hit up the town, only for the ground to start shaking and glass to start breaking. Candy had her keys in the ignition and had been ready to go. They had only gone back inside to inspect the damage. 

“Everything else looks clear,” Candy replied, “I’ll clean up the glass. Then we go.”

Mabel and Candy pulled a broom out of the hall closet and quickly swept up the mess. After taking a few minutes to cuddle with Candy’s cats, Mabel decided that she was ready, and stepped outside into the oppressively muggy summer afternoon. 

“Was that your grunkle on the phone?” Candy asked while they hopped back into the car,

“Are they okay?”

“Yep. Just a few broken knick-knacks. They said Waddles was okay, and that’s all I needed to know!” Mabel replied, “He’s strong. He can get through anything.”

“What about your brother? Is he still sick?”

“Probably. I hope he gets better. We always watched the fireworks together. It sucks that he won’t be here.”

With pebbles crunching beneath the wheels, the trio pulled out of the dirt road and away from Candy’s comfortably-rural house, driving out into Gravity Falls as the town picked up from the day’s damage. 

A minty aroma drifted through the air. Already, residents were out mowing their lawns and sweeping up broken garden gnomes like nothing had happened. Had Mabel not been there, she wouldn’t have known that there had even been an earthquake. Gravity Falls was used to weirdness. A few cracked windows and toppled shelves had no skin off of their backs. 

“Where are we doing the fireworks?” Mabel asked, “I want to make something explode!”

“Hell yeah, that’s the spirit!” Grenda cheered, “Candy, take a left.”

Candy turned her head to the back seat, “Are you sure?”

“Trust me. I know what I’m doing. I’ve got some friends meeting us there. They’ve got the good stuff.”

“Are we setting off fireworks or selling drugs?”

“We’ll see where the day takes us!” 

The roads diverged into a yellow wood, where the thick pine trees gave way to a mix of maple and redwood. Leaves knocked over during an overnight rain shimmered on the ground below. Presumably broken during the earthquake, branches sat forlorn at the bases of trees, waiting to be picked up by the next curious woodland creature that passed their way. Squirrels and birds scurried into the safety of the brush as the car passed by. Candy drove slowly, squinting her eyes along the rustic road by the light of the midday sun.

“You’re gonna stay here for a mile,” Grenda said, “I told them to wave us down.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Candy asked, “I can hardly see on this road.”

“Yes. Just don’t bump us around. I spent my last paycheck on those fireworks!”

“So, what? We’re just going to camp here for the day and wait?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Isn’t it awesome?!”

“Sure…”

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Summer Triangle Chapter 22

What a way to spend the fourth of July. Achey, shivering, and curled up under a blanket with a one hundred degree fever. Dipper could have thought of a million other things he would have rather been doing. 

Somewhere along the way he had caught a bug. He had no idea where, probably on the way into town, perhaps at that shady gas station. He had no clue. His body protested each move he made. Dipper’s weary mind darted in a million directions as he tried to get some rest. It always happened when he was sick. Fever dreams were the worst. Childhood stomach bugs had given him his fair share of those. 

Dipper had to open his eyes to know where he was. Taking in the emptiness of the night only made his head hurt more, and he noticed a ringing in the back of his ears, probably brought on by the fever. Occasionally it would buzz, almost like static in the back of a television screen, only to return to the sharp hum a moment later.

Mabel shuffled around on the couch somewhere to his right. Waddles snorted and sniffled, wiggling around whilst trying to make himself comfortable. Looking at the pig, Dipper grew jealous of its health, able to walk around as if it were nothing. Just the thought of standing up was enough to make Dipper nauseous. 

He closed his eyes and fell into a void. The ground disappeared, Dipper fighting a wave of nausea as the falling sensation persisted. Extending his arm, he could feel the couch, but the feeling persisted, almost as if the couch was falling with him. 

Broken fragments of voices hissed at him during his descent. Dipper put a hand over his mouth as yesterday’s lunch threatened to come back up, the pit in his stomach turning to a sour churning sensation. Dipper closed his eyes even tighter. Waist-deep in a fever dream, the only thing he could do was brace for the worst and try to wait it out.

The fall continued. Dipper tried to fan himself with his hand to keep the heat from overtaking him, only to grow cold and clutch his blanket tighter, ignoring the sweat and shivers running up and down his body. He prayed to a higher power to make him healthy again. Being sick was one thing. Being sick during the summer, knowing he would be missing out, was another. 

Somewhere outside, the sun would rise, and Dipper would be rotting inside, missing out on making memories and soaking in the summer. It was just like high school. He would sit down, ponder what was going on without him, but force himself to be okay with being sedentary. Laughter and sunshine were only a hop, skip, and a jump away. 

He cursed his immune system. Another day wasted because of his weakness.

The laughter continued. Dipper noticed that the couch beneath him had disappeared, instead floating through a void of static as the ringing in his ears intensified. Dipper covered his ears and tried to cover the horrific sound. 

Bright colors flashed before his eyes. Covering his face did nothing, the bright colors bringing stinging pains to his temples, thousands of small needles piercing his skin and poking around beneath the surface and poking his brain. 

Somewhere along the way, he heard the ringing of an organ, the same solemn funeral march that had preceded McGucket’s burial. A coffin appeared in front of Dipper’s eyes. He opened the lid and saw the cold, lifeless eyes of Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford, their mouths open as if screaming. 

Their bodies disintegrated into skeletons before Dipper could reach out. The ringing grew louder, shaking the invisible walls of the void and vibrating Dipper’s chest like a stereo. 

His descent into hell continued. Dipper was suddenly overcome with a strong burning sensation, watching flames crawl up from the floor. White cracks appeared in the void as the shaking intensified. Dipper swatted at his leg as the flames crawled up. His skin began to char and bleed. Dipper let out a scream.

The ringing turned to static, and then to laughter. Horrible, horrible laughter, shaking the walls of the void and bringing out more white cracks. Lava leaked from the insides and hit Dipper’s arms and legs. They disintegrated at the bone as shivers ran up and down his body. The pain was unbearable. 

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