The virus had already claimed ten lives. Five of the bodies were marred by red, cracked blisters that split their arms and faces like fractured porcelain.

One child had died from a broken arm after slipping on ice—an injury left untreated for too long. The rest had simply collapsed where they lay, choking on air, soaked in sweat, or vomiting blood.

Emma knelt beside a boy. A violent cough shook his small frame. Each breath tore through his chest.

His chest rose in frantic, shallow bursts, each exhale more laboured than the last.

She scanned the room: blankets draped over bodies, garbage bags used as coats, half-frozen water bottles stacked in corners. The stench of sickness clung to the air, sour and heavy. She had never faced this much suffering at once.

When the boy's coughing finally subsided into weak wheezes, Emma moved on.

She knelt beside two girls curled together on a torn blanket, placing a hand on each of their chests. Their breathing trembled—shallow, uneven, and slow—beneath her fingers.

They said the virus travelled through the cold air. It began with a boy who inhaled too deeply during a sudden gust of wind. Just one breath from the wind had been enough. Some claimed it sliced into the lungs, leaving the body burning from the inside out.

Now, people were collapsing by the dozens—their skin burned by snow, lives slipping away right in front of her.

"Izzy's burning up again!" Hanna called.

Emma rushed over, weaving between bodies, and knelt beside Izzy. She pressed her hand to the girl's forehead, recoiling as the heat scorched her skin. It was like holding a hand above an open flame. The fever always receded with her healing, but never fully disappeared.

Some were healing, but there was no clear pattern.

"Is it always like this?" Hanna asked as she stepped over a puddle of bile.

She'd been helping however she could by folding damp cloths, offering sips of medicine that rarely stayed down. Most of it came back up within minutes. Nothing seemed to help.

"No," Emma whispered. "I've never had to heal through an epidemic before."

The air was thick with the stench of sweat, vomit, and urine. Her stomach twisted, but she swallowed the nausea down. There was no time to be sick when everyone else already was.

A girl named Sadie let out a whimper, her face blotched with red burns.

Emma crawled over and pressed a hand to her cheek. Within seconds, the raw patches smoothed into pale, unbroken skin.

Sadie pushed herself up slowly, her eyes wide as she took in the room with confusion and fear.

"If you don't have a coat, grab garbage bags and wrap yourself tight," Emma said. "Anything that can block the snow."

Garbage bags and snowsuits had become the new fashion. Not every home had proper gear to face the storm.

Uden Academy was one of the few places with stockpiles of uniform winter sets and spare equipment for students who had come prepared.

Emma had been given a heavy coat, tuque, snow pants and mittens that she removed since the outbreak began, except for the pants when working indoors.

Underneath, she only wore an old green sweater and fleece bottoms, now soaked with sweat and clinging to her skin like damp rags.

She rubbed her aching eyes, but sleep refused to come.

Every time she closed them, she saw more fevered faces, more bodies breaking down.

A boy nearby had vomited into a salt bucket. Its contents were gone—now lined with a white garbage bag to catch the sickness.

Emma crouched beside him, careful not to breathe too deeply. If she looked too long, she'd lose her stomach.

She reached out blindly, pressing a hand to his chest.

Then, footsteps; heavy, slow, echoing down the stairs.

She tensed, dreading what they might bring.

Mark appeared on the stairs, bundled in a green snowsuit, eyes wide and bloodshot. A bundle of blankets hung from one arm, while he carefully balanced two sloshing buckets of vomit with the other.

"I'll go dump these out," he said, setting the blankets down.

"Thanks," Emma said quietly.

Behind the church, the snowbanks had become the unofficial dumping ground. Vomit froze the instant it hit the air, painting red and yellow streaks across the once-white drifts.

Normally, the worst of the cleanup fell to Mark, Zane, and the others. Lately, even Zane's crew from the fire station had started stepping in more often.

"I can't tell if they're getting better or worse," Hanna said. "Every time I think we've turned a corner, someone else crashes."

Emma tried to recall how Melany or Cindy treated colds: warm soup, fluids, thick blankets. But the soup was gone, the water was freezing, and the blankets were running out. Some kids, feverish and confused, kept stripping off their coats despite the biting air.

"I don't know either," Emma murmured.

There was no generator, no light beyond plastic candles, and no heat. But Emma no longer felt cold. Too many bodies packed the room, trapping the warm air inside.

More footsteps thudded down the stairs. Henry and Finn appeared, each lugging two bodies. They dropped them in the corner near an old mattress once used for storage.

"Seven more," Henry said.

Emma stared at the growing cluster of bodies. Katrina was among them—the girl who had once sat beside her in history class. They'd shared lunches, laughing over the terrible cafeteria food.

Now, Katrina lay still, her face flushed red.

"Pneumonia!" Hanna gasped, her eyes wide.

Emma shook her head. "Pneumonia doesn't burn your skin. It doesn't make you vomit blood. This isn't COVID either. It's something else."

Everyone shared the same brutal symptoms: hacking coughs that rattled their chests, blood-splattered vomit, skin scorched by the biting snow, chills so fierce teeth rattled, searing fevers, and headaches sharp enough to bring tears.

"I need a drink," someone croaked weakly from across the room.

Hanna rose and brought over two large plastic water bottles, ice rattling inside them. The cold was already freezing their remaining supplies.

Soon, if the bottles froze solid, they wouldn't be able to give anyone water at all.

Emma glanced toward the stairs once more as Henry and Finn returned inside. She crawled over to another boy, taking his hand gently but wincing at the rough, cracked skin beneath his palm.

She couldn't bear to think about all the sick, the injured, or those already claimed by the snow.

Letting go of the boy's hand, she stood unsteadily and almost collapsed when Cindy suddenly bopped into the room.

Cindy's expression was unreadable as she scanned the overcrowded infirmary.

"Thank you!" Emma exclaimed.

Cindy hadn't set foot in the infirmary since Melany's death. Emma had always believed Cindy hated her for failing to save her sister's life, but now, doubt crept in.

"What's going on?" Cindy asked, her voice flat.

"There's a virus," Emma explained. "Like the flu, but worse. The snow burns your skin, and the power's still out."

Cindy remained calm amid the overwhelming flood of bodies being brought in. She was no longer the same girl who once helped the infirmary.

"I came to tell you something," Cindy said.

Emma rested her hand on the boy's chest, feeling her energy beginning to drain. If Cindy brought good news, maybe she could finally catch a moment's rest.

"I'm done helping here," Cindy said bluntly. "I can't do this anymore."

Emma's breath caught. "Wait, why?"

"I can't handle it," Cindy mumbled. "And there's a second thing about you."

Emma kept her gaze fixed on wiping tears away from a sick girl's cheek. She couldn't bear to meet the eyes of those who were crying.

"You were manipulated by Greyson and the others," Cindy began. "All that dating was just a lie to keep you on their side."

Emma froze mid breath, her hands lingering on the boy's chest as if letting go would make the words real. Her heart pounded painfully, and her stomach twisted.

For a long moment, she couldn't even blink, her mind stumbling over the impossible truth. Her chest tightened, a weight pressing down on her, as the reality of everything she'd done for Greyson sank like ice.

She had prioritized healing those at Uden Academy simply because Greyson told her it was the best choice.

"They didn't want you switching sides," Cindy said flatly.

Emma's mind flooded with memories she struggled to piece together. Greyson's encouraging smiles had fuelled her confidence to keep practicing healing, often using Tumbles as the test subject, since she was always injured.

Emma's heart ached, recalling how easily Greyson had moved on after their breakup. She saw now how blindly she'd followed his orders, never once questioning them.

"Who told you this?" Emma asked, her voice trembling.

"Scarlett," Cindy said. "And that wasn't the first kiss between Greyson and Scarlett."

Emma turned away from Cindy, tears prickling in her eyes.

No. It couldn't be true.

After everything—after the confidence she'd worked so hard to rebuild—someone she barely knew had just shattered it with a few words.

"Anyway, good luck," Cindy said flatly, bopping away.

Emma sat frozen for a moment.

Tears slid down her cheeks.

She had been used.

Maybe from the beginning.

How could she have been so blind?

She believed all the support and smiles, but none of it was real.

Her feelings had meant nothing.

She was just another pawn. Easy to use. Easy to discard.

Slowly she stood. Her legs trembled beneath her, but she didn't stop.

She walked toward a body near the wall, one of the many now lying in the darkness of the room.

Dropping to her knees, she covered her mouth with one hand as silent sobs wracked her chest.

Tears poured freely now. She didn't try to stop them.

The deep ache inside her wasn't just sadness, but guilt.

It was all her fault.

The dim glow of James's laptop was the only light in the office, its pale beam barely slicing through the dark and catching the frost that had begun creeping along of the inside windows.

"If we want the electricity back on," James said, squinting at the map glowing on his screen. "We need to go to the power plant before the snow gets worse."

Outside, the wind howled like a living thing, rattling the windows with feral intent.

For Greyson, the illness and burns could wait. The immediate priority was simple: electricity and food. Everything else could come second.

"We wait for Luke," Greyson said, his gaze locked on the swirling snow outside. "The power goes on for Uden Academy, and no one else."

James looked up from his laptop."It won't be easy. The power station feeds everything in the area."

"We'll find a way," Greyson shot back, his jaw tight as his eyes flickered to Scarlett.

Scarlett Russell was still beautiful despite the food shortage, though her coat hung looser now, the sharp lines of her collarbones more visible when she tugged her scarf down.

She caught Greyson's eye and flashed her famous smirk.

"Luke's probably not coming back anytime soon," she said with a casual sigh. "Just grab someone else."

"We'll tell Tumbles," Greyson said, already heading toward the door. "Luke can take a separate car."

The rest of the group fell in line behind him, moving quickly through the halls.

At the front entrance, Greyson spotted Andrew Zimmer, standing awkwardly with a hammer in hand. "Andrew!" he barked. "Let's go."

Andrew blinked, dazed for a moment, before scrambling to grab his snow gear. He threw on a coat, then rigged a garbage around his legs, poking holes for his boots.

"I have an idea," Greyson said, his voice cutting through the violent winds as he yanked opened the door.

The SUV sat idling at the front gates, half-buried in snow. Greyson stood a few yards back, wind whipping through his coat.

With a flick of his fingers, Greyson lifted Andrew off his feet and hurled him through the whiteout. Andrew yelped as he shot toward the driver's door, boots skidding when he landed.

Preston and James were dragged after him under the same invisible force, both screaming as the wind swallowed their voices.

He slowed the force just enough so Scarlett's boots touched down gently beside the back door.

Greyson climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door against the wind. "We're heading to the power plant."

He pounded his gloved fist against the heater controls, as if sheer force could make them work faster.

Andrew floored the gas. The wheels spun uselessly, half-buried in snow. Visibility vanished. The wipers groaned as ice crusted over the glass faster than they could clear it. Each scrape sounded like the blades might snap off clean.

"Go the back way," Greyson snapped, pointing to the left.

"The SUV's slipping off the road," Scarlett said bleakly.

"Drive straight!"

"I am!" Andrew shouted. "It's the wind!"

At any moment, it felt like the SUV could skid off the road entirely. Andrew pushed the pedal to the floor, but the snowdrifts were relentless. There were no snowploughs to clear the way, and he knew he needed people to clear this snow.

"Did you at least bring some food?" Scarlett asked.

Greyson shot her a glance, smirking. He pulled a can of sliced peaches from under his coat, mostly just for himself and Scarlett.

"There's a light!" Andrew called out.

Ahead, Greyson spotted the headlights of another vehicle cutting through the whiteout. Nobody from Simcoe should be out here, but he could easily send it flying off the road.

"Swerve around them," Greyson ordered.

"What if it's Luke?" Preston asked.

"Stop quickly," Greyson said, his eyes narrowing. "But don't tell anyone what we're doing."

The SUV skidded to a halt, sliding slightly on the icy back road. The opposite car had its window rolled down a crack, revealing a figure wearing a face mask.

"Did we catch a robbery?" Luke snarled from the passenger seat.

Greyson leaned forward, eyes narrowing. Henry sat at the wheel, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Go to the power plant," Greyson commanded.

Luke shoved Henry aside, locking eyes with Greyson. This worked out perfectly—now that the bodies were delivered, he could bring in reinforcements if Jason showed up.

"I thought—" Henry started.

"Go to the power plant. Trail behind," Greyson snapped, cutting him off.

As Andrew slammed the gas pedal, the window rolled up, and the SUV slammed into a snowdrift with bone-rattling jolt. Everyone lurched forward as the vehicle skidded sideways before snapping back into motion.

James and Andrew both screamed, while Scarlett rolled her eyes. Greyson glared at Andrew, who had gotten a better handle on the SUV.

"We have to hurry, or the battery will die," James said, his voice tinged with panic.

"Battery dies?" Greyson asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

James rambled, "The cold can kill it. Without a thermostat, we can't even know how cold it really is."

Scarlett raised her eyebrow, pointing at the radio screen. "Negative thirty."

If Andrew didn't pick up the pace, they'd be stranded out here with no way to power anything. Greyson could throw them out of a drift with a single thought, but they'd still be stuck without a ride.

"There's a hill," Andrew's voice quivered.

Greyson's eyes narrowed at the steep slope ahead. He could already see this idiot losing control.

He raised his hand. The SUV shuddered—then lifted just enough to glide over the hill before slamming back onto the road.

The SUV gave a final sputter. The heater cut off mid-blast. The dashboard lights flickered, then went black.

Silence swallowed them.

Without the engine, the wind sounded louder.

"The battery's dead," James whispered.

"We're not freezing out here," Greyson said, shoving open the door.

Through the blizzard, twin headlights cut toward them of a blue CRV grinding over the snow. Greyson lifted a hand, using a telekinetic force as the vehicle floated across the hill, and dropping it right beside them.

Snow whipped around them as he swung open the door.

"Stick, get in the trunk," Greyson ordered.

Stick moved from the backseat, folding himself in the trunk.

Scarlett slid into the backseat, brushing frost from her scarf. James squeezed beside her.

Preston and Andrew scrambled in last, piling half on top of each other in the trunk.

"Drive to the power plant," Greyson commanded.

"Which way?" Henry asked without looking at any of them.

"James?" Greyson inquired.

"Go left at the next turn," James replied, his eyes scanning the road.

"Who killed the car?" Luke sneered.

"Maybe your noodle arm did," Scarlett snickered.

"Apparently the car battery died," Greyson muttered, crossing his arms.

The vehicle was crowded, everyone bundled in layers, looking like penguins stuffed in a can. Greyson's gaze flickered toward the trunk again, half-expecting it to burst open at any moment and send those three flying out.

"So, what happens when the electricity comes back on?" Greyson heard Andrew's muffled voice from the back.

"Stick, get off me!" Preston grumbled.

"You don't know what happens when the power comes back on?" Greyson snapped.

"We get heat," James muttered, eyes on his laptop.

Scarlett snickered. "Wow. Groundbreaking info, genius."

"For Uden Academy," Greyson corrected. "The rest of Simcoe can figure itself out."

Scarlett yanked her white scarf down, brushing frost out of her dark hair. "This weather," she sighed, running a hand through it.

"Who decided to have a snowstorm anyway?" Henry asked.

"That thing did," Luke spat.

"The thing named Ashley," Greyson grumbled.

It was that thing that gave Luke his new arm—an arm that appeared normal but was actually a deadly weapon, quick like a whip, expanding whenever he hit someone.

"I don't want to get the virus," Andrew complained, shivering.

"Are we there yet? I can't feel my legs," Preston groaned from the back.

"That it?" Henry asked, squinting through the frost-smeared windshield.

The shape emerged from the storm of a massive concrete block, half-buried in snow. The power plant's floodlights were dead, its electric fence sagging open under the weight of the ice. Abandoned cars huddled along the ditch, their windows frosted white.

Henry steered the CRV into the empty lot, tires crunching over a crust of frozen slush. The vehicle jerked to a stop near a row of tilted light poles.

"Out," Greyson snapped, throwing his door open.

They pushed into the wind together, boots sinking ankle-deep.

Jason hadn't thought to secure the area?

That wouldn't be a problem much longer.

He led the way across the drifts toward a steel door with a dim keycard reader flickering under the snow.

"It needs a key card," James said, squinting at the reader.

Greyson scanned the area, looking for an alternative to using the SUV. His eyes landed on a handicap sign. He extended his palm and slammed it into the cardholder. Nothing. Only a small dent remained.

"I'll try," Luke sneered, stepping forward with a grin.

Greyson didn't even need to watch to know it would fail. He kept his eyes locked on Luke's arm make contact with the reader, but nothing happened.

"Why don't you let James try?" Scarlett suggested, her voice bored.

"Fine," Greyson spat.

James stepped forward, flexing his hand once.

He punched the reader.

The metal casing imploded with a sharp crack, sparks spitting into the snow.

A second later, the doors unlocked with a smooth mechanical hiss.

"Let's go," Greyson ordered.

The door slid open with a hiss, releasing a stale gust of air. Inside, the power plant stretched out in a maze of concrete corridors and rusted pipes. Their breath fogged into the faint light spilling from the doorway.

"Flashlight, Andrew," Greyson barked.

Andrew fumbled through his coat, then clicked on a narrow beam that barely cut through the dark. The beam revealed flaking paint and faded safety posters peeling away from the walls.

"Okay, James," Greyson said. "Where do we start?"

James squinted at the blueprint on his laptop. "If the grid's still intact, the dam room is the core. We restore that, the rest should follow."

Greyson swung the flashlight along the walls until it hit a sign: Hydroelectric Operations—East Wing.

"There." He turned right without waiting.

The beam wobbled over doorways labeled Control Room, Maintenance, and Storage.

"We'll move through the east wing first," Greyson said, his voice echoing down the corridor. "Then we'll find the dam and Uden gets its power."

The snow kept piling up, heavier and thicker with every passing minute. Jason didn't have to look up. He could feel the slight burn already creeping across his skin.

He'd seen it before—raw, red skin blistering and peeling, as if frostbite worked in reverse and cooked you from the outside. The snow seemed alive, feeding on exposed flesh but leaving clothes untouched.

Emma had treated plenty of cases, but only a handful made it through without lasting frostbite.

He held out his hands, palms glowing faintly as he melted a large chunk of snow. Steam hissed as the ice softened and tickled away.

"You're wasting your breath," Jade called from behind.

Jason turned to see her weaving the air, pushing back a swirl of snow in a desperate attempt to ease the weight piling around them. It was a losing battle; every gust she cleared was replaced within seconds.

The ground beneath them turned slick, every step a challenge.

"Zane's trying to build something to keep us from caving in," Jason said. "Have you seen James?"

"Esme might," Jade answered, brushing wet snow from her sleeve. "But knowing her, she's buried in this mess somewhere."

They trudged toward the front of the church, boots crunching through the deep snow. The wind howled, swallowing their footsteps as snowbanks pressed in from every side.

People moved in and out of the building, some carrying buckets slouching with vomit and blood.

"Let's find Nevaeh," Jason said, raising his voice over the wind. "She always knows what's going on."

They shuffled toward Party Culture, careful not to lose their footing on the ice-slicked path. When Jason pushed open the door, darkness greeted them, just like everywhere else. A single candle flickered on a table, casting dim light over a group of kids huddled together.

Nevaeh crossed the room with arms folded, exhaling a cloud of cold breath as she approached. "Did you hear? The hydro's out, too," she said, teeth clattering.

"Do you know where James is?" Jason asked.

"Oh, him? Yeah. I know where he went," Nevaeh said with a sly grin.

"Where? How do you know?" Jason pressed.

"I heard he went back to Uden," Nevaeh said.

Jason's stomach sank at the thought. It had to be tied to the power failure, right? But then again, it wouldn't be the first time Greyson had planned something far worse.

"Do you know what for?" Jason asked, urgency creeping in his voice.

"No, idea," Nevaeh said, tapping a finger to her lips as she pretended to think. "I wasn't told much."

"Back to Uden?" Jade grumbled.

It was their only option. No one in town had the skills to fix the power, especially not with the storm bearing down.

"You might get trapped in this snow," Nevaeh warned.

Most cars were buried under drifts or shoved sideways by the wind.

They stepped into the open, scanning the empty streets. The snow raged on, the howling wind stinging their faces as Jason squinted into the whiteout, hoping to catch a glimpse of a vehicle.

"Are we just rushing in?" Jade's voice was flat. "Shouldn't we bring someone else?"

Jason spotted a red car in the distance and hurried toward it, but Jade had a point. The two of them couldn't handle whatever was still waiting for them at Uden, not with Henry's thugs and Luke still around.

"I could bring Bella," Jason said, yanking the car door open with a sharp tug.

"She'll just slow us down," Jade replied, shaking her head as she pulled off her hood.

Jason stared at the car, mind racing. "Where's Esme?" he asked, suddenly realizing she hadn't shown up.

Jade hesitated, then a loud bang rattled the window. They both turned, and there she was: the speed demon herself. Esme flung herself into the back seat, sprawled out and gasping for breath.

"I love snow, but this?" Esme winced, catching her breath. "This is hell. What's the mission?"

"We're heading to Uden to find James," Jason said.

"We get to beat up Greyson and Luke?" Esme grinned, eyes lighting up. "Hell yeah. Let's go!"

Jason took a deep breath, glancing around the snow-choked streets. They couldn't stay here; the storm was only getting worse, and Uden wasn't going to wait for them.

"Alright," he said, gripping the wheel. "We move now, slow and steady."

He eased the car backward, careful to navigate the drifts like a minefield. Every bump jolted the car, and the wind rattled the windows like distant gunfire.

By the time they cleared a patch of the road, even the church behind them was almost swallowed by the snow.

"Man, this snow is insane," Esme groaned. "You should know where Uden is by now. How many times have you been ambushed there?"

"I do," Jason said, gripping the wheel. "But not in a storm like this."

Esme pressed her face against the glass, watching the snow blur by as Jason slammed on the gas. The road was completely buried, and he couldn't help but think they'd be stuck here, stranded on hell.

Uden Academy was at least ten minutes outside of Simcoe, and walking back in the storm wasn't an option.

"Stop swerving off the road!" Esme shouted. "Do you think Greyson and Luke kidnapped James?"

Jason swerved around a massive snowdrift that nearly sent them airborne. "It's possible," he said, eyes scanning the road.

"Probably for electricity," Esme said. "They might've grabbed him when Henry and Finn brought the bodies to the infirmary."

Jason glanced back at Esme, brows furrowed. He hadn't realized Henry and Finn had brought bodies to the church infirmary. That meant it wasn't just Simcoe being hit with the illness and burns.

"Focus!" Jade snapped.

The car jolted as they hit a snowbank, sending them careening off the road. Jason yanked the wheel hard, his eyes snapping back on the road. The windshield was almost completely blanked, leaving only a small sliver of visibility in the corner.

"Nevaeh didn't mention them coming to town," Jason said, squinting through the whiteout.

"Emma told me people are dying of that illness," Esme said, shivering as the car jolted over a hidden snowbank.

Jason started to turn his head but Jade's hand shot out, forcing him to keep his eyes on the road. It was hard to talk and listen when he couldn't even glance at the person.

"Dying?" His stomach twisted.

"I think she said three people have died," Esme said, sitting up straighter. "Most vomit, but some are coughing up blood and intestines too." She paused. "Mark's burying the dead, but even with meds, some aren't healing."

The problems were stacking up so fast that Jason couldn't even track. The illness was one thing—there was no avoiding that—but Greyson? He could feel it in his gut. Whatever he was planning, wasn't going to end well.

"We'll focus on finding James and whatever Greyson has planned," Jason said.

Do you think it was right for Cindy to tell Emma about being used?

Don't forget to comment and vote!
-Lexi