The stage was grand, its polished hardwood flooring creaking faintly beneath each step. The maroon curtains had been drawn back, revealing the student body. Greyson strode to the edge of the stage with Scarlett and Luke. The many Uden students were quiet while waiting for him to explain his plan and the agreement.

Simcoe didn't need another follower. It needed a real leader—someone who could stand firm against whatever was coming, someone who made rules instead of obeying them. Greyson had decided it wouldn't be him. If it meant survival, then he would seize it, no matter the cost.

"As I've already said," Greyson began, his voice cutting through the silence. "Those who've turned fifteen and over have mysteriously vanished. I've received word from Jason that Uden can go to Simcoe. The difference, though, is that we have to help out."

Greyson knew the idea wouldn't sit well with most of them. This was Uden Academy— strict rules etched every hallway, drilled into every student. These students were taught to obey, but many had learned to question. He was counting on that now. They didn't want to help Simcoe—they wanted freedom.

"Apparently, Jason doesn't want us to use these abilities some of you have," Greyson declared with conviction. "But, we're not playing by all their rules. We're twisting them to work in o ur favour." He took a step forward, voice rising with momentum. "Uden isn't going to get pushed around by Simcoe!"

His fist punched the air, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Even if their loyalty faltered, Greyson knew he could still maintain control, because he controlled the narrative. The more they relied on him for answers, the more influence he held, not just over Uden, but over Simcoe itself.

He lowered his arm as the cheers gradually faded. "Everyone, form lines by age," he called out, projecting to the crowd. "If you're close to turning fifteen, to the far left. Anyone younger, line up on the right. We are going to see where these people go."

"My birthday is today!" Carlson Davis yelled.

Every head turned at once.

Carlson stepped forward, pushing through the packed bodies, his face pale. Whispers buzzed around him like static as he climbed to the front of the stage, stopping just shy of the first step. He glanced around at the curious faces surrounding him, then looked down at his black watch strapped to his wrist.

"What time were you born?" Greyson asked, stepping closer.

Carlson opened his mouth to answer, but before a single word left him, he blinked.

Just like that. No flash. No sound. Just empty air where he stood moments before.

Greyson's heart skipped a beat, his breath caught in his throat. For a split second, everything seemed to stop.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, panic flashing in dozens of eyes.

Greyson knew this was no accident. Something was behind it all. Was it a power he didn't know about yet? Or a trap woven by unseen hands? He couldn't tell. But he knew one thing: getting information was the only option now.

The only way forward was waiting for the next birthday to see if the pattern held true. For that, Greyson needed the computer brainiac. If anyone could hack through chaos and uncover the truth behind the vanishings, it was James.

But beneath that mystery of the vanishings, another fire burned inside Greyson. The revelation that he and Jason were twins pissed him off. Heather had given him up for adoption while keeping Jason, then gone on to have a daughter with another man.

It was time for payback. Even though revealing they were twins was early, he needed someone who could weaken Jason on his side.

A smirk tugged on Greyson's lips. If Henry and his crew were rebelling against Jason's leadership, they could be useful. He glanced over at Preston, who was already scanning the crowd.

"I need you to do something important," Greyson said lowly. "Spy on Jason. Luke will be coming, but you have to be invisible."

This was the best way to gather any information they may have been keeping secret. If they were responsible for the disappearance, it meant he would have to do something about that.

"Scarlett, take Emma and head to town. Find Henry and his crew. I'll stay back with James and try to figure out these vanishings," Greyson said firmly. "Talk to who you've been assigned to. Tomorrow, we start everything."

Jason bolted down the staircase to the church basement, heart hammering.

Bella's words echoed in his mind: Ashley had been found outside of town—injured and barely conscious.

Simcoe was unraveling. The town had split into groups under the new rules, and somehow, Jason had become its reluctant anchor. Every crisis, every screaming child, every broken system pressed down on him. He was starting to buckle.

He shoved open the white church doors. The narrow staircase yawned before him. His footsteps echoed, loud in the eerily quiet.

The infirmary was dimly and musty. Two cots lined the far wall. A long wooden table sagged under pill bottles, gauze, and half-opened medical kits scavenged from whatever they could find.

Melany and Cindy hovered over Ashley, hands strained with iodine and blood, moving too fast and not fast enough at the same time.

They'd been running the makeshift infirmary since the adults vanished. Mostly bandages. Sprains. Fevers. This was different.

Jason's chest tightened. They were missing what mattered most. The healer from Uden. Someone who actually knew what to do.

Earlier, he had sent Mark to help with the housing crisis, especially with the infants who had fallen ill. They'd found six babies—feverish, wheezing, some barely responsive—but by the time they got them to the church infirmary, it was too late. All six were gone.

Jason hadn't let himself stop.

If he stopped, he'd see their faces. Hear the crying cut short. Feel the weight of how small they'd been in his arms.

So he kept moving. Thinking was dangerous. Thinking meant breaking, and there wash no time for that.

"Ashley, I'm so sorry," he gasped, stumbling to her side.

She lay pale and shaking on the narrow cot, teeth clenched so hard her jaw trembled. Her leg was propped on a stack of thick Bibles, the only solid thing they could find.

The knee looked wrong. Swollen. Bent at a slight angle it shouldn't bend. The skin below it had begun to darken, the colour dull and sick.

Melany looked up, her expression tight behind her glasses. "I don't know what it is," she said quickly, like saying it first might make it less terrifying. "Something's coming out of her wound. It's purple."

Jason stared. Purple glistened faintly along the torn fabric near Ashley's knee.

"I tried to stop the bleeding," Melany continued. "And it did stop. But after that she just got weaker. Like it took something from her instead.

"That's not how blood works," Cindy said.

"I know," Melany snapped, then immediately shook her head. "I know. I looked it up before everything. Nothing does that. Not like this.

Jason frowned, trying to follow, but most of Melany's words blurred together in his head. Science had never been his strength, especially chemistry. He understood the basics: Ashley was in pain, and something unnatural was inside her. That alone was enough to scare him more than any test he had ever failed.

Melany adjusted her round glasses, lowering her voice. "Unless it's some chemical one lean. Those can kill you."

Ashley coughed, a wet, broken sound. Red splattered onto the sheet.

"No..." she whispered, barely audible. "It ran out of my knee."

The room went silent.

Melany swallowed hard. "Whatever it is, it's not normal. I gave her ibuprofen because that's all I know what to do. I cleaned it. But I don't know what else to do without making it worse."

Jason nodded, even though his head felt hollow. That was worse than bad news. It meant there were no right answers.

Suddenly, pounding footsteps echoed down the stairs. Xander burst into the infirmary, chest heaving, sweat glistening his forehead. "We need help," he gasped. "People are fighting... crying everywhere... and some don't even know where to sleep."

Jason froze. Every instinct screamed at him to stay—Ashley needed him. But the weight of the town pressed on his shoulders.

Bella stepped forward. "I'll stay with her," she said softly.

Jason felt a rush of relief and something else—something he hadn't realized he'd beenbeen starving for.

"Thank you," he murmured, pull her into a brief hug.

She squeezed him back like she understood exactly how far he was from holding on.

He ran to the streets with Xander. The chaos hit him in waves—shouting, crying and fear etched on every face.

The town didn't look like a town anymore. It looked like a place that had been forgotten.

A group of older kids stood in the middle of the street, arguing who got to use a bike. Another group had split in two, fighting over a single blanket. A toddler cried on the sidewalk while a teenager stared with empty eyes.

Jason spotted Mark crouched between two crying girls, trying to calm them. Guilt stabbed through him—he should've seen this crisis sooner. And now, with Ashley suffering and that strange people substance in her wound, his mind raced with new questions: was it conscious? Was Simcoe facing something worse than he thought?

"Dude!" Mark called out, hurrying over. "Where are we putting these kids? Some of them got nowhere to go."

Jason's mind scrambled for answers. Some kids had already curled up on the sidewalks, but most were wandering, scared and homeless. Even if they went back to their old houses, there'd be nobody there.

"Maybe Ilya can fit more kids," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But the daycare's full. The only other place might the park."

Mark glanced toward the park, his expression uneasy. "It gets freezing at night. Blankets won't be anything. We need a real place. Like, now."

Jason let out a frustrated groan and slammed his palm against the church's wall. The nights were unpredictable—cold one moment, damp the next—and they had nothing solid to offer the kids.

They'd need blankets, pillows, anything they could find. The quickest way was to raid the stores for now, then checked abandoned houses for supplies.

"Let bring them to the church," Jason said, exhaling softly. "We can grab blankets from Foodland. There's probably plenty in storage."

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden haze over the worn streets of Simcoe. It had been a long day—talks with Uden Academy, uneasy agreements with Greyson, and crisis after crisis piling on without pause.

As they neared the grocery store, Jason spotted three kids sitting on curb, hungrily devouring burgers from Burger King wrappers. Nelson's place must be running, somehow. The electricity was holding on, at least.

Inside the grocery store, Jason noticed a few kids sneaking handfuls from the shelves, their eyes darting nervously. He, Mark and grabbed carts and pushed toward the back, where a small section was stocked with soft, woollen blankets.

Jason scanned the shelves, but pillows were nowhere to be found. "Think they keep pillows in the back storage?"

"Imagine so," Mark replied, as he loaded the blankets into his cart and pushed them outside.

Jason pushed open the cold aluminum doors leading to the back storage. Dim lights flickered overhead, and the chill in the air seeped up his arms as he stepped inside. Towering metal shelves lined the cement walls stacked with snacks, toys and endless clutter.

He rifled through the boxes one by one, scanning each label: crackers, toys, more crackers—no pillows. Frustration tightened in his chest as he sighed and turned back toward the double doors. But when he looked around, Xander or Mark were nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, Bella burst into the store, her hands waving frantically in the air. She skidded to a stop near the meat aisles, chest heaving.

"There you are!" she called. "That substance is not natural."

"Explain," Jason said, already feeling the panic crawl up his spine.

Bella shook her head. "Neither Melany nor Cindy have never seen anything like it. If Ashley picked it up from that ditch, it means others might be exposed, too."

Jason widened his eyes as she gripped his wrist, pulling him out of the store.

Outside, his heart pounded, taking in the clusters of people huddled of the street, trying tone find a place to stay while Ashley's condition weighed heavily on his mind.

"Is she going to make it?" his voice cracked.

Bella halted, still gripping his wrist, and glanced back slowly. "It's like she's paralyzed. Her entire body won't move, but somehow she can eat. It's wearing Melany and Cindy down, especially with so many kids getting hurt."

Jason's head spun under the weight of endless responsibilities. Leadership meant carrying everyone's burden, and he was barely keeping out. He hadn't had a moment to check on the daycare, much less the fire station. And with Uden Academy still ticking problem, he hoped they'd honour the plan they agreed on.

"Jason," Bella said gently. "You need to eat. You're pale, and you look like you're running low on energy."

He realized he hadn't eaten np much at all today—just a turkey sandwich with lettuce and a cherry yogurt at lunch. Cooking had never been his strength; John had always handle that. The most Jason knew was how to fry a hamburger, and even that felt like a stretch now.

"We can go to my house," Bella offered, slipping her arm around his back to steady him. "There's still food and you look like you're about to drop."

Simcoe was falling apart—adults were gone, strange illnesses, kids fending for themselves. Jason had been too focused on everyone else to notice his own body failing him.

Bella's hand steadied him as they stepped inside her house. The warmth hit him like a relief he hadn't realized he was craving.

"Sit down," she said softly, guiding him onto the black leather couch. She pressed a cold hand to his forehead. "You're burning up."

Jason slumped back, muscles trembling, mind a fog of exhaustion and guilt. His chest felt heavy—not from the fever alone, but from the weight of everyone depending on him.

Bella moved to the sink, soaked a washcloth, and wrung it out. The chill stung when she pressed it to his skin. He gritted his teeth, closing his eyes.

"You need to eat something," she said.

"I don't know how to cook," he whispered.

Bella pressed her lips together. "You don't have to. I do it with my mom all the time."

Jason managed a faint hum. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. Hunger he'd been buried beneath the chaos, beneath the worry for the town, beneath the fewer of Ashley's safety.

The soft sizzle of the frying pan filled the room. Jason stared blankly toward the kitchen, where Bella moved quietly behind the stove. A wooden pillar partly blocked his view, but he could see her silhouette in the kitchen light.

"Stay awake, okay?" Bella called gently from the kitchen. "You can sleep after you've eaten."

She set the plate on the glass coffee table. The aroma of sautéed vegetables filled the room. His hand shock as he reached for the fork. She sat beside him, eyes soft but attentive, ready for whatever he needed.

"Who would've thought the world would end up like this?" Bella murmured.

Jason swallowed, staring down at the food. "I can't believe it either," he whispered.

He took another bite, the warmth of the meal and her presence made the chaos outside feel like it could wait.

Emma Cabot stepped into the dimly lit lounge room of the boys' dorm. Laughter and chatter filled the air, but it felt like the world was closing in around her. Despite the school rules, many girls were there too—no teachers to enforce curfew, just freedom.

The boys' dorm was constructed the same way as the girls', with large windows and maroon and white walls. This was where everyone ate breakfast and gathered to watch television, since it was prohibited in the dorm rooms.

It was exactly 10 p.m. when she spotted Scarlett drinking some tea. She sat beside Greyson, chatting about a topic that was unknown to her.

Emma couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

Since her ability appeared, Greyson had taken interest. Not officially, not consistently—but enough to make her heart flutter. Two months in, and it still felt fragile.

She'd come to Uden by choice. Her father couldn't help with the anxiety that clawed at her trust, her confidence and even her body image. Uden was supposed to fix that. But being around Greyson, especially when someone like Scarlett was involved, sometimes made things worse.

Luke had said Greyson and Scarlett had hooked up back in seventh grade—just once. But even that tiny history made Scarlett feel like a permanent shadow over her.

One time could mean nothing—or it could mean everything. Had they lost their virginity to each other? Did Greyson still think about it?

"Hey," she said soft as she approached.

Both Greyson and Scarlett looked up. Greyson gave her a nod. Scarlett raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow with a slight smirk.

Emma hesitated, then sank into the navy-blue couch across from them. The cushions gave way under her weight, and the silence that followed was sharp and uncomfortable. Sitting beside them would have felt suffocating—the distance was what she could handle.

"What are you guys talking about?" Emma asked, flickering her gaze between them.

"About the plan for tomorrow and future outcomes," Greyson replied.

Emma nodded, even though she had no idea what those outcomes might be. Greyson was always working on strategies.

Scarlett leaned in, her voice soft and private. Emma felt like an outsider in her own relationship.

"Well, this is awkward," Scarlett admitted, crossing her legs.

Emma's stomach flipped. She and Scarlett were supposed to work together tomorrow. Had Greyson arranged that? Or had it been a decision Scarlett made on her own.

"I'll excuse myself and talk to Eden," Scarlett said casually, standing. "Maybe that girl might actually agree to help."

She walked off, mug in hand, toward the kitchenette where Eden stood by the counter, twirling a spoon with a half-smile. Emma's skin prickled. She really didn't want to work with Eden.

Once Scarlett was gone, Emma turned to Greyson. Her eyes flickered on the floor, then back to him.

"Why are you acting so distant?" she asked.

"I have to lead Uden, so there's a lot on my shoulders," he said.

She knew leading was pressure. Still, something about Greyson felt off. Distant in a way that had nothing to do with strategy meetings or plans. Should she push? Or just let it go again?

Emma hesitated. "You're not hiding anything, are you?"

"I have nothing to hide," he snapped, eyes narrowing.

He never told her about Scarlett. She'd overhead it from Luke in the hallway, months ago, back when she had a crush on Greyson. Just a small flutter. But even then hearing Greyson say he hooked up with Scarlett lodged in her brain.

Maybe it was time.

She looked over her shoulder. Scarlett stood by the window, sipping her tea and eyes in the stars. At least the night sky has remained the same since people disappeared.

"Can I ask you something?" she whispered, leaning close to him.

"Sure," he responded.

"Have you ever done anything with Scarlett? Not just working together, but sexually?" Emma murmured, looking up at him.

"Why are you asking that kind of question?" he snapped, crossing his arms.

Emma knew Greyson wouldn't admit to questions like that. They had two of them never even kissed; it was mostly fighting and talking. It felt like every time she asked a question, the distance between them grew wider. She remembered that she was the one who confessed her feelings. He had just agreed with a charming smile, not expressing his own feelings.

It never bothered her at the start, even if it had only been two months since their relationship began. She pushed the nagging thoughts of their scheming and plotting out of her mind, trying to focus on the present moment. But a lingering question weighed heavily on her heart: Was she truly seeing the real Greyson?

"Never mind," she mumbled, looking up. "I'll just head to bed."

As Emma turned to leave, Greyson stood up and walked towards Scarlett with an ease that made her stomach twist.

He didn't even try to explain. Just walked away smirking at Scarlett like none of it mattered. Her chest hurt, like she'd been holding her breath for too long.

Was this what dating him was always going to be? Questions with no answers?

All she could do was let out a deep sigh as she walked toward the white door. With a gentle push, she opened the door and stepped outside, leaving the boys' dorms. As she turned back for a moment, her gaze caught Greyson laughing with Scarlett.

Once outside, Emma's attention shifted to James, who was seated on a wooden bench on his laptop. Beside him sat Katrina, another student from her class.

"What are you looking at?" Emma inquired curiously as she approached them.

"James is trying to figure out what happened to the vanished people," Katrina responded.

Emma move closer and settled down beside James on the bench. She leaned over slightly to get a better view of his computer screen, where a document full of information about the disappearance of people from the school. She was still thirteen, turning fourteen in June, which meant she wasn't at risk of disappearing.

"People fifteen and older definitely disappear," James confirmed. "It was like that guy in the gym this afternoon."

"Is there a reason? Is it set on a timer?" Emma asked.

James pressed his lips together, scrolling through the list on the document. There were many Uden students listed, meaning they must have scanned through files of more than just the freaks.

"That's what I don't understand," James sighed, closing his laptop. "Maybe it's set on a timer for everyone. I have to do this with Greyson tomorrow."

He scurried back into the dorms and shut the door behind him. The two just looked at each other before walking back to the girls' dorms. The outside was quiet, with the campus lights shining on the paved pathway and neatly designed hedges.

Emma wanted Katrina's input on the situation. She was in Uden for a trivial matter, just like Emma. Maybe she knew about the whole situation that would unfold.

"Can I ask you something?" Emma blurted out.

Katrina knitted her eyebrows as Emma gulped. They rarely talked when they had class together. Most of the time, Katrina was with a few other girls.

"Sure," she said.

"Do you know anything about Scarlett and Greyson?"

They were a year younger than the two, so it was possible she may not know much. She had only heard bits and pieces of drama from her classes or older students.

"Those two? Well, Scarlett is a bitch," Katrina spat.

She wasn't a fan of Scarlett either, but she tried to tolerate her, especially since she was Greyson's right hand. It was hard, though, considering how close the two were and how Scarlett manipulated people.

"I don't really know much, honestly. I tend to avoid drama with those two. You should confront Scarlett."

Confronting Scarlett had become Emma's last resort. She hoped that even if Greyson didn't answer Emma's question, Scarlett might. Scarlett was known for her bluntness, her beauty and lack of concern for exposing the truth, which made her intimidating to many at Uden.

Emma had assumed that Greyson kept Scarlett around was to rank people's abilities, but Emma had only discovered her own abilities four months ago.

"If that scares you, shouldn't you ask Greyson?" Katrina suggested.

"I tried, but he never gives a straight answer. He's always dancing around the question," Emma mumbled.

"Why are you still with him then?"

Emma paused, unsure of how to answer. Was it because of her strong feelings for him? Or was she just bring selfish and ignoring the truth around her?

"Well, I like him," Emma finally said.

"Just talk to Scarlett if she's even staying here tonight," Katrina remarked before walking away.

Emma stopped in the empty main room of the girls' dorm, realizing that if Scarlett didn't come back to night, she would likely be staying in the boys' dorms.

It wasn't a surprise since people secretly dated at the school, and it was a rule that was enforced upon enrollment to prevent students from sleeping with each other. However, sneaking in to the dorms was easy if someone distracted the teacher on duty.

Teachers took shifts at night, except for the roof, where they always guarded the door to prevent guys from getting in.

Cassie used to always break that rule. She was three years older, flirtatious, and always sleeping around sleeping people. Emma had helped her sneak someone in once by lying to the teacher about a shadow outside.

That teacher? Gone. Cassie? Gone.

Just memories now. Vanished like they were never here. Like the world had swallowed them.

"Hey!" Emma heard a voice as she spun around. She failed to see two people who were in the common area. "Do you want to have a blinking contest?" Mia Ortiz called, standing on a maroon chair.

"You're such an idiot," Bryce Cross said, pushing Mia off the chair as he walked toward Emma. "Everyone knows you'd lose the contest, Mia."

Emma was familiar with Mia and Bryce, two of the top delinquents at Uden Academy. Despite Bryce's reputation, girls found very cute, and he was.

"Mia is high, but then again, maybe she isn't and just naturally has a mind that lives in space," Bryce remarked with a snide tone, still eyeing her. "But, you don't have to go along with Greyson's plans."

"No, I have to," Emma blurted out.

Mia stood up and hurled a brownie from the table at the back of his head as he leaned close to her ear.

"By the way, you're so cute," Bryce whispered.

Emma face flushed with shock as she looked up at him. She wasn't used to receiving compliments from him, especially since he was rarely showed up to class. He winked and picked up the broken brownie, throwing it directly at Mia.

"And I'm not high or drunk, Emma," Bryce said slyly. "Keep those words a secret for now."

"Bryce, you asshole!" Mia exclaimed, her voice slurred as she wobbled to her feet. "Why do you get to be nice to her, but bully me?"

"Because you're ugly," Bryce said with a smirk, causing Mia to drop her jaw. She place a thumb on her chest, wearing a dazed smile.

"I'm super pretty! What are you talking about? See?" Mia exclaimed as she struck a dramatic pose.

Bryce took his finger and tapped Emma's own nose, an action that made her entire body feel on fire as he laughed. Although they weren't super close friends, since they only shared a few classes to him, he did tease her at times.

"Go to sleep, Emma," Bryce said with a grin. "You don't have to spend it out here with an idiot and a handsome delinquent."

Emma slowly nodded, her thoughts swirling as she waved a hand before she turned on her heel to head back to her dorm room. Its had been an eventful day, and now she found her grappling with the uncertainties of what tomorrow would bring. She may have to talk to more people or keep hiding that she is the healer.

"You know it's unrequited," Emma heard Mia say.

Emma paused and leaned against the wall in the hallway, positioning herself just out of sight from them.

"I'm not an idiot like you, Mia. You don't think I know that?" Bryce muttered as she watched him sit back down.

"It's the sappy cliché, isn't it? Lovesick delinquent who can't get the girl," Mia teased.

For a brief moment, Emma was taken aback by this information. Was Bryce really in love with someone? The thought was shocking, since he didn't exactly strike her as the type of person who would experience stress. Yet, there he seat with a sigh and his elbow on the table.

"It's not the crush that's the problem... it's knowing she'll never see me that way," Bryce confessed, eating part of the brownie.

Emma froze in the hallway, her back pressed against the wall. This couldn't be Bryce Cross—not her teasing friend that always joked around in their English and science class. But the voice was his. Quiet. Real.

As she hurried down the hall, she ran her hands down her cheeks, and pondering his words. They surprised her, as she never expected Bryce to compliment her. But, it wasn't just the compliment that caught her off guard—he also suggested not following Greyson's plans.

Finally reaching her dorm room, Emma opened the door and shut it behind her, entering the maroon-coloured room. She threw herself onto her bed and gazed at the wall of small paintings she had created in art class. Her eyes then shifted to her wooden nightstand, where a picture of her parents from their trip to Hawaii when she was nine years old caught her attention.

"What do you think, Mom? Did aliens abduct the adults?" she whispered, looking at the picture. "It'd be easier if you were here."

Do you think things will get better or worse?
-Lexi