𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝟮𝟰𝗧𝗛, 𝟮𝟬𝟭𝟯 ... 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙙.

the morning dawned with a soft, gold light, and gently a warmth creeped in through the thin curtains, with it came a chill that still hung in the air. for monty, it felt like any other late summer day — an ordinary day.

the kitchen was small, and worn, and the smell of eggs and bacon filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of coffee grounds lingering from the pot that robert had brewed earlier. monty leaned against the kitchen top as he and his uncle hummed quietly to one another, of work at the garage, what was due that day, and what they'd be doing. monty listened as he always did, letting his uncle's gruff voice wash over him and the steady crackle of oil.

a window, slightly ajar, allowed for the chirping of bird song to drift into the house, and the faint blubber of a neighbours' car could be heard passing by.

robert flipped an egg in the pan and grumbled when a splash of oil splattered up, stinging his hand. ❝ damn thing, ❞ he muttered, his face creasing in irritation as he scooped the eggs into two chipped plates before he set them on the table.

monty joined his uncle, sitting opposite him. he stared down at the breakfast before him: the shine of the eggs and the warmth of his meal, the delicious scents of all that he plate held circling towards his nostrils. monty breathed in a relaxed sigh, before tucking in.

they ate silently, the scrape of cutlery on the ceramic plates echoed around the kitchen. the kitchen was small, crammed with clutter — old photos on the wall displaying memories and wide smiles, a mug with a crackled handle, a ragged potholder hanging from a hook near the stove. the walls, a faded shade of yellow, had seen years of wear, and the air had a faint scent of grease and coffee, a smell monty knew better than he knew his own.

rockstar, monty's loyal hound, lay curled up by the door, his tail thumping quietly whenever his eyes met with monty's.

monty finished his breakfast quickly and dunked his dish in the sink before grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair. he bent down, scratching at the canine's ears, before he turned to robert, who already shrugged on his own worn, brown jacket.

❝ ready, kiddo? ❞ robert asked tiredly, stifling a yawn before wandering over.

monty nodded and patted his jacket pocket to make sure he had his wallet and house keys. it was the same ritual he'd done hundreds of times before — it was just another morning routine before another long day at work.

monty rolled his shoulders. ❝ bit quiet isn't it? ❞ he uttered, turning to his uncle, who tossed his truck keys in his hand joyfully.

robert shrugged, but nodded. ❝ it's just early, that's all. let's get this show on the road, ❞

monty cranked open the door and climbed in. the keys turned in the ignition and the engine cough to life with a grumble. the truck rolled backwards off the drive and down the road while the radio vibrated out a song.

the hours passed in a blur, as they often did when the two threw themselves into work. the humming of the radio filled the space, the familiar strain of a country song wound its way through the clanking of tools and the hissing of air compressors. the sound anchored the both of them.

monty wiped a slick of sweat from his forehead with his arm, grimacing at the warmth within the building. the air was thick and slightly stale from the machines and the oil. he glanced over his shoulder toward bobby who was crouched beside a worn—out sedan, prying a stubborn wheel off.

monty took a breath, returning to the engine in front of him, tightening bolts and adjusting gears, letting his mind drift.

the sound of sirens broke through the background noise, their wail growing louder, slicing through the quiet afternoon. monty's hands stilled as he glanced up, watching as an ambulance flashed past the garage, red and blue lights bouncing off the walls in frantic bursts. he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen one speed by like that.

❝ what's going on, you think? ❞ he muttered, wiping his hands on a greasy rag.

robert barely looked up, still focused on loosening a particularly stubborn lug nut. ❝ who knows. probably just a bad wreck, ❞ he grunted, dusting his own hands off before rising to his feet. his frown deepened as he glanced out through the opening of the garage, his eyes following the path the ambulance had taken.

monty went l back to work. he leaned down, peering into the engine he'd been working on, the slight hum of the radio grounding him as he tightened one of the last bolts. a static crackle cut through the country song, and the music abruptly faded, replaced by the hurried voice of a news anchor.

❝ ...shooting in progress. reports of multiple injuries and casualties... ❞

monty looked up, fingers frozen on the wrench. his gaze shifted back to robert, who had finally stood up straight and stretched. for a moment, neither of them spoke. the voice on the radio continued, dropping clipped words — shots fired, violence. 

robert checked his watch and gave a slow nod, his eyes narrowing with something close to concern. ❝ you know what, monty... why don't you head on home? get some lunch and have a break. i'll finish up here and i'll catch up with you in a bit, ❞

monty hesitated and nodded, reaching for his jacket and slinging it over his shoulder, his tools still warm in his hands as he placed them back on the workbench. he grabbed his belongings, slipping the old radio off to cut the crackling newscast short.

monty headed out, stepping onto the quiet sidewalk. he pushed his hands into his pockets, glancing around as he began to walk down the road.

it was only a few blocks to the bus stop. monty could hear the echo of more sirens, their wails merging into a dull, steady throb that lingered in the background like an alarm you couldn't quite shut off.

the bus hissed to a stop in front of him, and monty climbed on, digging a crumpled bill from his pocket to pay the driver. he slipped his ticket into his jacket then made his way down the aisle, finding a seat halfway to the back. settling in, he pulled his headphones over his ears, letting the music drown out everything outside.

the bus moved at a sluggish pace, jerking forward in fits as it crawled through heavy traffic. every so often, it halted, the driver muttering under his breath as horns blared from all sides. monty looked up now and then, glancing through the window at the lines of cars stretched endlessly in both directions, drivers gripping their steering wheels and staring impatiently ahead, the odd driver flicking a finger in anger. the city felt gridlocked, a far cry from its usual midday mood.

twice, police cruisers screamed past, sirens reaching through monty's music. they wove between the stuck cars, lights flashing as they barreled down the narrow lanes.

the bus lurched forward again, and monty glanced at his watch. he was close to his stop now, close to home, and he was grateful. pulling off his headphones, he stuffed them into his pocket, watching as the familiar buildings of his neighborhood came into view. when the bus finally pulled to a stop, he hopped off, stepping onto the quiet street.

the sidewalks were emptier than usual, just a handful of people moving along. he shoved his hands into his pockets, the air feeling cooler, despite the midday sun. he walked steadily down the road toward his house, letting his eyes drift over the lawns and houses around him. the looked the same as always — neatly mowed grass, kids' bikes tossed on driveways, the odd house occupied with residents going about their day still, despite what the radios spoke of.

finally, he reached the house and dug his keys from his pocket, fitting one into the lock. as the door swung open, he stepped inside, exhaling with relief as he was greeted by the familiar scents of home — the faint, comforting smell of the mornings coffee and robert's lingering cologne mixed with the dusty warmth of old wood.

before he could set his keys down, rockstar bounded up to him, a ragged toy clamped in his jaws, his tail wagging hard enough to shake his whole body. monty chuckled, scratching behind rockstar's ears before taking hold of the toy and giving it a gentle tug.

❝ hey there, buddy, ❞ he murmured, dropping his bag by the door. rockstar's wide eyes gleamed excitedly.

monty crouched down, patting Rockstar's head before pulling off his jacket and hanging it by the door. he stood in the quiet entryway for a long moment, staring at the faint dust motes floating through the afternoon light.

❝ fancy going on a little walk buddy? while we wait for bobby to come back? ❞ monty asked with an excited tone to his voice. a wagging tail from the canine meant rockstar did in fact fancy this walk. 

monty squinted into the sun as he watched rockstar as he darted across a field, chasing down a ball he'd just thrown down for him. the dog's ears perked up and down and his tongue lolled as he tore across the patch of grass without a care in the world. rockstar leaped and snatched the ball in his jaw before joyfully making his way over, trotting towards monty.

it had been over an hour since monty had left work, and he was beginning to wonder why robert hadn't shown up yet. his uncle was always prompt, rarely straying from his usual habits. a prickle of worry hit him.

monty reached into his pocket, fumbling for his phone. the screen lit up, revealing a picture of him when he was a little younger, sandwiched between his mother and father — each one of them grinning from ear to ear. he dialed robert's number, holding the phone to his ear as he cast another ball across the field. the tone droned on and on, ringing as he waited, his stomach twisted slightly with each unanswered bleep. then, at last, the click of the line connecting.

❝ monty? ❞ robert's voice was strained as he answered the call.

❝ where are you? i thought you'd be home by now? ❞

❝ i'm on the way, ❞ robert replied, the sound of his voice drowned out and echoed by the distant blare of horns. ❝ traffic's a mess, some kind of pile up on the main road outta town. people are sitting in their cars, some walking away... i don't know what's going on, but it's not good, ❞

❝ what do you mean? what's going on? ❞ monty asked, trying to keep his voice steady. he glanced up and his eyes squinted as a helicopter shot across the sky and made its way towards the city. a moment later, two jets followed, sleek and dark shapes travelling across the sky at the speed of light.

❝ monty, kiddo, listen, ❞ robert's voice cut in, ❝ i need you to head back to the house, pack a bag. clothes, food, water — whatever you can carry. i need you to be ready for me when i get there, okay? ❞

❝ leave? ❞ monty's chest tightened. he stared down at the ground, where rockstar sat with the ball by his paws, tongue flapping in and out of his jaw as he waited for the ball to fly again. ❝ where are we meant to go? ❞

❝ i don't know yet, ❞ robert replied, a heavy sigh then followed. ❝ people aren't acting normal. just— get ready, all right? i'll be home as soon as i can— ❞

monty opened his mouth to respond, to ask him how serious this really was, but before he could say another word, the line went dead.

❝ bobby? robert, can you hear me? bobby? ❞ monty's voice rose slightly as panic clawed its way up his chest and to his throat. he tried the call again but it wouldn't connect. he stared at his phone.

he turned in a slow circle, the world tilting slightly as he took in his surroundings. rockstar tilted his head, his sharp eyes studying monty. monty crouched down, his fingers resting against rockstar's soft fur.

❝ c'mon boy, ❞ he mumbled and straightened himself, slowly ambling towards the house, rockstar close by.

monty stepped inside, closing the door behind him as rockstar bounded forward, tail wagging, unaware of the chaos unraveling outside. monty moved swiftly to his room, heart hammering in his chest as he pulled his backpack out from under his bed. his hands shook slightly as he threw in whatever he could grab: a few shirts, a pair of pants, socks. nest, he reached for his baseball bat leaning against the wall — its weight a comforting weight in his hands before he stuffed it through the straps of his bag.

hurrying to the kitchen, he swung open the pantry and scooped in as many canned goods as he could fit: beans, soup, some dog food for rockstar. he zipped up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder before dropping it beside the fridge. his gaze drifted to the photos plastered on the fridge door, held up by a mismatched collection of magnets — a snapshot of him and robert at the lake, rockstar's goofy face licking the camera lens. his chest tightened, but he forced himself to turn away.

heading to bobby's room, monty grabbed his uncle's old gym bag, quickly stuffing it with some of robert's clothes. then, he rushed back to the kitchen, grabbing more canned food and stuffing it into robert's bag. l

he reached for the radio, pushing a button. it crackled and whined, before blurting out the following: if you don't need to travel, don't. if you need to travel, take precautions. the words turned to static then faded.

he shoved the radio button again, but all he got was static, the message already gone. frustrated, he yanked out his phone, checking the screen. a faint 'no service' symbol glowed in the corner. he cursed under his breath, shoving the useless phone back into his pocket as he glanced around the room, realising how silent the house had become without robert's voice or the thrum of the tv in the background.

he moved to the kitchen window, pulling aside the curtain just a crack. across the street, he could see mrs. miller, a neighbor, frantically shoving bags into the back of her vehicle. the woman kept glancing over her shoulder, her face etched with worry. her young son stood on the sidewalk.

it was then, as he stared out the window, that monty noticed more subtle signs along the street — doors hurriedly closing, blinds drawn shut. in the distance, a faint plume of smoke curled into the sky.

rockstar nuzzled his leg, whining softly, sensing his unease. monty reached down, ruffling the dog's fur as he murmured, ❝ it's okay, rockstar, ❞

monty stood by the front door, eyes flicking between the family photos on the wall and the street outside from his view out the window. he hoped that whatever was keeping robert would let him make it home soon, because monty knew one thing was for certain: he couldn't wait here much longer.