Chapter 3: Storm Inside

Three months later, on March 13th, 2020, at 2:30 p.m., the piercing wail of the tornado sirens pierced the air, sending a ripple of panic through the school hallways. Just as the sound subsided, the loudspeaker crackled to life, and the principal's voice echoed, grave yet authoritative. "Attention students, you are allowed to go home now. No more school until the outbreak is over," he announced, a sense of finality in his tone. I hurriedly packed my belongings, the weight of anxiety pressing on my chest. Just as I zipped up my backpack, I felt a pair of arms envelop my waist from behind. I turned to see Dylan, a familiar smile on his face, despite the chaos surrounding us. "Hey baby," he greeted, his tone warm and casual, but I couldn't shake the unease that settled in my stomach. "Hi. I've got to go. I'll call you tonight," I replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. But in my heart, I knew I wouldn't be calling him. Betrayal hung bitterly in the air between us. It was hard to forget what had happened the last time—before I was sent back in time to this very moment, three months before everything changed. Dylan and my best friend, Amanda, had turned on me, feeding me to the ravenous zombies while they watched, a haunting memory that refused to fade. As I gather my belongings, the chaos around me seems to blur into the background. The sound of the sirens shrill in my ears, a chilling reminder of the uncertainty that now awaits us. I catch a glimpse of my classmates rushing to pack their things, some bursting into tears while others laugh bitterly at the suddenness of it all. I can't quite grasp the reality of what's happening. Three months is a long time, and it felt like a cruel twist of fate that I was back there, stuck once again in the web of betrayal. "Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Dylan asks, still holding onto me. His grip is firm but comforting; however, it only serves to deepen the pit of anger in my stomach. The memory of his betrayal hangs over me like a dark cloud. How could he have done that? How could he and Amanda have just stood there and watched while I faced the zombies alone? The image of them smirking in triumph is etched in my mind, and I won't let it fade this time. "I said I have to go," I reply, pulling away from him slightly. "I just… can't do this right now." With one last glance at Dylan, I turn and head out of the classroom. The hallway is alive with the sounds of panic and excitement. Students yell and run, some trying to gather their friends, while others race toward the exits. I keep my head down and push through the crowd, feeling a mix of emotions surge within me. Part of me wants to turn back around and confront Dylan about everything, but the other part knows it's best to just leave it behind—at least for now. As I reach the main exit, I can see parents arriving to pick up their kids. Some look frantic, scanning the crowds in search of their children, while others simply stand by their cars, awaiting announcements of what to do next. I step outside into the cool air, clutching my backpack tightly. The sky is overcast, almost eerily still, and I can't shake the feeling that something is coming—something that may not be as easy to escape. "Hey! Wait up!" I hear a voice calling behind me. I turn around, and it's Amanda, her face flushed and eyes wide with desperation. "Don't talk to me," I say, my tone sharper than I intended. I don't want to hear her excuses; I don't want to feel the remnants of our friendship surface when I know what she did to me. "Please, just listen for a second!" she pleads, closing the distance between us. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen. I thought it was just a joke…" she said. "A joke?" I scoff, my heart racing. "You fed me to zombies, Amanda. That's not a joke. That's a betrayal!"i said "I know, I know! But you need to understand—I was scared. We all were. I didn't think… I thought maybe it wouldn't happen if we didn't show any fear." I shake my head in disbelief. "You're telling me that throwing me to zombies was supposed to make it better? Are you insane? You stood there and let it happen!" Tears well in her eyes, and I feel a twinge of guilt, but I quickly suppress it. "You don't get to cry now. You made your choice." I walk away from her, leaving behind her pleas echoing in the air. I need to clear my head. Outside, chaos reigns as students fill the parking lot, searching for their rides or texting their parents. I pull out my phone, flipping through the contacts. The last thing I want to do is get caught up in another convoluted argument, but part of me still wants to talk to someone—anyone who understands what's going on. I decide to call my mom. As the ringing fills my ear, I glance back at Amanda. She's still standing there, her shoulders shaking as she cries. Maybe I could find a speck of forgiveness somewhere down the line, but for now, I need to focus on myself. "Hello?" my mom answers, her voice a mix of worry and relief. "Mom, it's me. They let us out of school. The principal said there's an outbreak…" I can hear her gasp from the other end. "What outbreak? Are you okay? Where are you?"she asked. "I'm fine, I'm outside. I'll be home soon, I just… I want to explain everything. But you need to listen carefully."i said. "Okay, I'm listening." As I fill her in on what I know, a sense of calm washes over me. Talking about it helps me organize my thoughts. I explain the tornado sirens, the unexpected early dismissal, and the looming threat of whatever disease is starting to turn our lives upside down again."Just stay put, honey. I'll come get you. I want you safe at home, away from whoever or whatever is causing this," she says firmly. "Okay, Mom. Just hurry." I hang up and glance around. The parking lot is beginning to thin as cars pull away with students hastily claiming their spots. As I start to scan the crowd, the last person I want to see approaches—Dylan. "Come on, don't be like this," he says, reaching for me. "Stop!" I shout, stepping back. "You have no idea what it feels like to be betrayed by the people you trusted. Just… just leave me alone!" "I can't just leave you!" he insists, frustration lacing his tone. "I care about you, and I know I messed up. But can't we at least talk later? I'm sorry, really. Just let me explain."said dylan. His words start to gnaw at my resolve. Part of me wants to believe he's genuine, but the other part is clutching at old wounds. I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my emotions. "Fine. But right now, I need to go home. If you're still around when I get back, then we'll talk. But only if you don't make it worse," I say, spinning on my heel and walking away. The drive home is uneventful, my mother silent as she navigates through the hastily formed lines of traffic. I lean my head against the window and watch the world pass by, a swirling tempest of thoughts. Each face I see is stained with confusion, fear, or fleeting hope. We arrive home, and the moment I step inside, I feel a wave of familiarity envelop me, almost comforting in the face of the chaotic world outside. My mom hands me a glass of water and motions for me to sit at the kitchen table. "I need to know what happened," she says, her voice low and serious. I recant my story, starting from the moment the sirens blared to the heated confrontation with Amanda and Dylan. My mother listens intently, her brow furrowed in concern. "We need to prepare," she finally says, her tone shifting from comforting to pragmatic. "If there's an outbreak on the loose, the last thing we need is to be unprepared." "Prepare for what?" I ask, confusion crossing my face. "Shelter, resources… We need to stock up before things get worse," she replies, resolute in her decision. "But what if it's nothing? What if this is just a panic?" I protest, but deep down, I know the truth. I saw the fear in everyone's eyes at school. "We have to take precautions, just in case," she states, gathering her keys from the table. "We'll go to the store and gather what we need. I'll give a call to your father and make sure he comes home early." I nod, the gravity of her words settling in my stomach. We're entering uncharted territory, and I don't know if I'm ready for any of it. At the grocery store, the atmosphere feels tense, electric with fear. Shelves once brimming with groceries are beginning to show signs of empty spaces. People huddle together, whispering in hushed tones, casting wary glances at one another. We navigate through the aisles, my mother mechanically grabbing supplies—canned goods, bottled water, any essentials we might need. I venture into the snacks aisle, hoping to find something to lift the veil of anxiety. "Hey!" A familiar voice cuts through the commotion. It's Dylan again. He's standing by the chips, his hands shoved in his pockets, eyes scanning the crowd. "What are you doing here?" I ask, my heart racing as I glance at my mother, who is busy selecting some pasta. "I came to see if you were okay. I thought maybe—I don't know—this would be a good time to talk," he says, his expression earnest. "Seriously? You think now is a good time?" I scoff, feeling the anger bubble up again. "You won't even give me a chance to explain. I regret what happened. I thought I could protect you… I thought you'd be safe." said dylan. "Safe? You mean by throwing me to the zombies? What kind of protection is that?" I can feel the pressure building in my chest, my breaths becoming shallow. "Stop for a second and listen," he insists. "I wanted to protect you from making the wrong decision. I thought… I thought if I made it look real, you'd come out stronger. You'd see what you were really up against." he said."You've got to be kidding me," I mutter, shaking my head in disbelief. "Just give me a chance to explain. We can figure this out together. The world is changing, and I want to face it with you, not as enemies," he says, desperation seeping into his voice. I glance back at my mother, but she seems oblivious, focusing on the items filling her cart. "Fine. Let's talk. But we need to do it somewhere private," I say, my voice low as I try to regain control over my emotions. "Come on, let's step outside." He leads the way, and I briefly hesitate before following him out of the store. Once outside, the air feels heavier, thick with the weight of unspoken words. "You have five minutes," I say, crossing my arms defensively. Dylan takes a deep breath, his brow furrowing as he searches for the right words. "Look, I know I messed up. I couldn't even face you afterwards. I thought I was doing what was best for you by pushing you to the edge." he said. "Best for me? How does putting me in danger ever become 'best' for anyone?" My voice rises slightly, but I rein it in, unwilling to draw attention to ourselves. "If you can handle that, you can handle anything. I wanted you to be stronger, to fight for yourself," he continues, frustration evident in his tone. "That's not your choice to make!" I shout, the emotions roiling within me threatening to boil over. "You don't get to decide what's best for me. You think you know what I can handle, but you don't know anything." He steps closer, urgency surging in his approach. "It was about survival, okay? I realize that now. I should've realized that I was wrong to approach it the way I did. But we need each other now more than ever." I hesitate, caught between resentment and the deep-rooted feelings I still hold for him. There's an authenticity to his desperation that stirs something inside me. "We'll see, Dylan. But it's going to take a lot to earn back that trust." i said. "Just give me a chance," he pleads. "We're on the brink of a world no one understands. If we don't stick together, we could end up losing everything." As we start to turn back to the store, a loud announcement blares from the intercom, causing us to freeze. "Attention customers: we are facing a national emergency. Please remain calm and head for the exits in an orderly fashion." My heart races as chaos ensues. People begin to panic, rushing toward the doors in a frantic attempt to escape whatever is happening outside. The world just shifted again, and this time it felt final. "Come on!" Dylan grabs my hand, pulling me through the crowd of frenzied shoppers. We push our way toward the exit, adrenaline pumping through my veins. As we burst outside, the sky has darkened dramatically, ominous clouds swirling above us. I look around, alarmed by the panic around me. "What's happening?" I gasp, trying to keep up with Dylan's pace. He turns to me, fear shining in his eyes. "I don't know, but we have to get somewhere safe." he said. "No kidding," I reply through gritted teeth. My mother was still in there. I scan the parking lot, searching for her car. "There!" Dylan shouts, pointing toward a figure. "Your mom's at the car!" Relief floods over me as I dash toward her, barely managing to keep up with the crowd. The parking lot is crowded, and I can see my mother becoming increasingly frustrated as she attempts to back out of a parking space. "Mom! Over here!" I yell, waving my arms frantically. She catches sight of me and quickly rolls down the window. "Get in!" she shouts, urgency edging her tone. Dylan and I clamor into the backseat, and my mother doesn't waste any time speeding away from the chaos. The sounds of chaos and alarm fade as we put distance between ourselves and the supermarket. "What happened inside there?" she asks, worry etched into her features as she glances at me in the rear view mirror. "It was just an alert… we don't know what it means," I reply, my voice shaky. "Panic spreads fast. We need to get home and stay inside," she says, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. As we drive, I glance back at Dylan and offer a silent look of solidarity. Whatever is happening out there, we're in this together now. It may not be the resolution I envisioned, but maybe we can figure this out one step at a time. All I know for sure is that the world has changed again, and now survival isn't just an option—it's a necessity. We arrive home, and my mother immediately locks the door behind us, her expression tense. "Let's gather supplies and barricade the doors for now," she instructs, her voice firm. As we work together to fortify our home, I can't help but feel the weight of dread settling inside me. The air thickens with uncertainty, and I glance at Dylan, who is scanning the news on his phone. "Nothing good," he mutters, frustration lacing his words. The hours tick by slowly, each sound outside sending a jolt through my system. We work in silence, pausing only to steal glances at one another, each of us aware that whatever is happening outside our walls is a storm we cannot control. "Do you think they'll come for us?" I finally ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "They'd be foolish to," Dylan replies, confidence edging his tone. "But this world doesn't always make sense anymore." The night settles in around us, the weight of the day's chaos giving way to a sense of foreboding that clings to the air. We huddle together, united by a shared resolve to face whatever comes next. As we prepare for the ordeal ahead, I can't help but think of the tornado sirens and the outbreak, the friends turned enemies, and the trust shattered. It was a messy world we now inhabited, and I resolved to be ready for whatever was thrown my way. Together, we might just find a way through this darkness, but first, I had to face my past—together with Dylan and Amanda. The real battle has yet to begin.