EXTINCTION EVENT

chapter five: deck chairs on the titanic

[ season 1, episode 3; the dog ]

NIGHT 03

For a moment, everything was still.

Their breaths held, frozen in time at the introduction of a potential new enemy. The air seemed almost thick, like a blanket smothering them. Over the muffled roar of the crowd outside, Meghan could swear she could hear the others' heartbeats perfectly.

Then, Holly, sensing the tension caused by the noise, bared her teeth and tensed on Meghan's bed, preparing to bark.

Katie rushed over to the bed in an instant, hands clamping down over the dog's mouth. They couldn't make any more noise than necessary — there was no telling what could end up happening.

Heather slid into position behind the door, knees slightly bent, knife raised to her chest and poised to strike at whoever laid in wait for them in the hall. She was taut, and tense as a live wire. Her eyes flashed to Meghan's, giving her a single sharp nod. She was ready.

That left Meghan.

The nineteen year old made each step as careful as she could, her feet barely gracing the floorboards before a soft creak would sound, earning a flinch from the group. Not even her grey area rug or light feet could soften the obvious wear the building had experienced. The room had served as a home for freshmen classes going back decades, and had received little care since then.

Bloodied teeth and strips of skin caught on rhinestone studded nails flashed through Meghan's mind, and her breath caught. She shook off the vision, and steadied herself for whoever—or whatever—awaited her on the other side of the door. For her own peace of mind, she grabbed at the spray bottle full of cleaner fluid atop her desk she had been using the other day to clean her laptop screen. It wasn't much, but it could at least stun whoever was on the other side so that Heather could attack.

Beside the door, her sister worried at her lower lip as Meghan approached, but her grip was firm, and steady.

Red light glinted off the doorknob's silver varnish before vanishing under the student's pale grasp. She double-checked with her mother, sending a silent question with her eyes. Her mother had the final say on whether or not she should open the door.

Katie nodded from her position by the bed, giving her the affirmation and boost of courage she needed to turn the knob.

The girl took a quick inhale of breath, steeling herself for whatever lay on the other side. Go for the eyes first, they're the most painful — but what if they're like Georgie? She didn't feel pain, and from that position, she could get bitten. Neck, then — but that left the same issue.

Various plans of attack spun webs through Meghan's mind, and she was only brought back to reality by the sound of shaking metal, She glanced down, her hand trembling on the doorknob. She felt a jab of embarrassment at her display of weakness. She wasn't planning an attack, she was delaying the inevitable. Screw it, Meghan thought to herself. Then, she all but slammed the door open, right hand curled around the trigger of the spray bottle, prepared to squeeze.

Heather's knife swung up, ready to continue in a downward arc towards the intruders all too familiar face, and flushed features—

"Caitlyn," Meghan said, the name startled out of her throat more than consciously spoken. Her eyes darted quickly to her sisters, glancing up and down from her face to her grip on the hunting knife, silently screaming at her to put it away before the girl saw. She'd already had her mother stab her RA — the last thing she needed was for her sister to stab her roommate, too.

She was so losing her security deposit after this. If there even was an after this, that is.

Luckily, Heather seemed to get the message, and slid the hunting knife into her back pocket for the time being, ducking her arm back down before her roommate noticed the attempted assassination. Katie loosened her grip from Holly, who seemed interested in the newcomer but had calmed after realizing she wasn't a threat.

"Meghan?" the girl sniffed. The nursing student looked far worse for wear than when she had seen her last. Her peach blonde hair was tied into two braided pigtails, now askew and haggard. Her brown doe eyes were red-rimmed, as if she'd been crying, and her nose and cheeks were flushed. She'd changed from her jumper and shorts she'd worn earlier in their Psychology course into a sweat-soaked tee and athletic color-block leggings. Her lower lip wobbled as she held up her phone. "Bryce said it was getting worse outside, with all the riots. He said was gonna drive me down towards San Diego — his family is part of some co-op down there — b-but the line went dead and I can't reach him. None of the bus lines are running, and you have a car, so I was wondering if you could drive me out to his apartment to check up on him?"

Meghan bit the inside of her cheek as she opened the door to reveal her family, finally lowering the spray bottle she'd unconsciously leveled at Caitlyn's face. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can."

The girl peeked into the room, and Meghan stepped aside to let her in. "Who's this?" Caitlyn asked, curiosity peaked in between sniffles she attempted to suppress via her shoulder sleeve. Her eyes widened upon seeing the state of their room. "What happened?"

"No idea. Some psycho must've broke in and trashed the place," Meghan lied, silently passing her the box of Kleenex from her desk before she began introductions. "This is my mum, Katie," she gestured to her mother, "and my younger sister, Heather. They flew down to check on me and are helping me pack. We were planning on leaving campus, getting out of the city."

Seeing the look of hope flashing across Caitlyn's face, Meghan hastily cut her off. "Not tonight, though."

"Tomorrow morning," Katie interrupted, shooting the girl a sympathetic look. "We can take you with us, but we're not leaving until then. It's too dangerous."

It was a good plan on her mother's part. The riots would have likely died down by then, and the police would be spread thin enough by the night's events that getting past the roadblocks should be relatively easy. It wasn't ideal, but then, none of this was.

Caitlyn wasn't as enthused, however.

"But Bryce is still out there!" the nursing student exclaimed. "He's waiting for me! I have to—"

"You'll never be able to get to him in this!" Meghan responded, gesturing towards the window. "We're leaving in the morning. We can drop you off with Bryce then, but I wouldn't expect to be able to leave the city just yet. The police were shutting down all the exits. Whatever's going on, they don't want it to spread."

Caitlyn blinked at her, confused. "You mean the riots?"

Unbidden, Georgie's broken body splayed across the bathroom floor played back in Meghan's mind, and something burned in the back of her throat. She swallowed back bile, and responded evenly, unsure of whether or not Caitlyn was aware of the other threat awaiting them outside the dorm. "Yeah, probably. There could be something else though."

"Like what?" So she hadn't seen it.

"How often do you see a city-wide blackout over some homeless guy getting shot?" Meghan questioned. "Whatever's going on, maybe it's a bomb threat, or a terrorist attack, it's enough to shut down one of the biggest cities in the US. So whatever happens, we have to be careful. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," Caitlyn nodded reluctantly, sniffing again as she hugged herself, toying with a pair of interlocked letters dangling from her charm bracelet. "Still, I hate the idea of leaving him out there."

"He's probably safer than we are right now," Katie chimed in, adopting a soothing, maternal tone that conveyed far more confidence than Meghan felt. "The rioters won't target residential areas. Public buildings and commercial zones will get the brunt of it."

Caitlyn accepted her explanation with a silent nod. She sat down on Meghan's bed as she began to pet Holly, the cheerful lab seeming to calm some of the upset girl's residual anxiety. The dog sniffed eagerly at the freshman, intrigued by the newcomer, and Caitlyn gave a small smile — the first she'd shown since she arrived. Meghan resisted the urge to slump over in relief, grateful they managed to calm Caitlyn down without too much of a struggle. Still, their solution was about as temporary and as helpful as a bandaid on a festering wound.

The fact remained: they were trapped inside the dorm. Leaving would be dangerous, if not a death sentence. It would be impossible to reach Bryce, and even harder to escape the city, not counting the perils involved with making the two hour trip down to San Diego.

Plus, Meghan had her doubts about Bryce's loyalty. The guy had once abandoned Caitlyn at the downtown shopping mall so he could stop for burgers with a few of his friends before his soccer scrimmage. She'd had to leave class early to pick up a crying Caitlyn from the mall a half hour later after he finally called to tell her where he went, and that he didn't have time to go back and pick her up. After a few fraught phone calls, angry texts, and a weekend comprised entirely of binged Hallmark movies and dollar-store chocolates, Caitlyn had happily reunited with the upperclassman — who Meghan was sure hadn't shed so much as a tear over their short-lived breakup.

Still, it wasn't like she could judge. Meghan was only the romantic type in theory, never in practice. With her parents having divorced when she was seven, the only real life expertise she had in the realm of relationships was knowing when they should end. However, it went without saying that "dump him" was about as inflammatory a statement as one could make about someone else's relationship, no matter how accurate it was. So Meghan learned to keep her mouth shut on these topics.

In sum, the nursing student didn't have a chance of convincing them to help her go find Bryce, and she would put them all at risk if she left, opening the doors of the dorm to the outside.

Wait. Meghan's train of thought ground to a halt. Doors. Outside.

As she put together the seemingly obvious connection, Meghan felt a chill run down her spine. "Cait," she spoke, careful not to let her anxiety seep into her tenor. "Is there anyone else still in the building?"

The girl gave a slight pout as she thought for a moment. "Yeah," she responded after a beat, scratching Holly behind the ears. "I think Kyle, Marcia, Ryan, and a few others from the first floor are still around. I think Ryan brought his girlfriend over, I don't know her name, though. I don't know if anyone else is still around. A lot of people went out for the day after classes were called off, figured they could make it a long weekend to party before finals. I don't think they're back yet."

At the widened eyes of her sister, Meghan knew she wasn't the only one thinking of the obvious risks involved with a larger group. It was a hard enough task convincing Caitlyn not to go out in search of her boyfriend, and she was actually friends with the girl. How was she meant to convince a group of almost strangers to stay in place until morning?

"Do they know what's going on outside?" she voiced cautiously. If even one of them knew about this infection, it could cause panic. They didn't know what caused it, or how it spread. Georgie just seemed like she had a flu initially, but it's not like they could go around killing anyone who showed symptoms of being sick.

Caitlyn lifted her shoulders helplessly as Holly shuffled closer to her on the bed, resting her head on Caitlyn's lap in a bid for attention. "I don't know," she answered. "I was just out for a jog when Bryce called all panicked and told me to go back to the dorm. When I got back, everyone was all freaking out outside, so I snuck in through Hailey's window on the first floor — she always leaves it unlocked for her boyfriend. Last I saw them, they were in the basement."

"You locked Hailey's window after?" Meghan confirmed, and Caitlyn nodded.

The basement could be easily defensible, Meghan considered briefly. There were no entrances or exits besides the stairwell, and the windows could be easily blocked off.

Still, the crowd outside could easily get worse, and they'd have no way of telling. If the group outside got violent, or lit the building on fire, escape would be nearly impossible. And if they were like Georgie...Meghan shuddered at the thought. They'd be like fish in a barrel.

Her eyes darted back to Caitlyn, who, while no longer trembling, was pale, and looking to her for guidance — as if she had the answers for what to do in this situation.

She had no idea what to do. She was going to have to fake it.

Meghan wracked her brain for ideas. They weren't going to listen to her mother — people went to college partly to escape their parents. And while she had a firm loyalty to the woman in a way that more resembled a soldier to a general than the usual mother-daughter bond, she wouldn't expect the same of her peers. Heather, while tall enough to pass as a college student, had no connection to her dorm-mates, and wouldn't be taken seriously. Caitlyn was a non-starter as well; she'd spent half of last semester allowing her professor to call her every variation of "Katherine" in the book before a classmate finally reminded him what her name was.

That left her. Shit.

She wasn't a natural leader. She wasn't a leader, period. It wasn't that she couldn't order around others, Heather could attest to her ability with that, it's that she lacked the ability to make them follow. Her perfectionism, blunt honesty, and lack of patience when it came to social endeavors typically resulted in her either giving way too much "constructive criticism" and micro-managing other's every action, or just handling everything herself and ignoring everyone else in her team. What kind of experience did she have that could get them to listen to her?

Mock trial. She was good at mock trial. She killed at mock trial.

She didn't have to order them around. She just had to convince them as to why they should.

Of course, at mock trial she came prepared — from rebuttals and closing statements practiced in front of the cheap wall-hung mirror courtesy of her local superstore, to the color-coded binders she painstakingly prepared for each member of her team, that went unused by all except her.

Mock trial required preparation, and Meghan excelled at preparation. Here, she would have to improvise, an idea that caused more than a little anxiety. Still, she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. It doesn't matter, she decided. It's not like I haven't had practice with compartmentalization. This is no different.

"Well," Meghan said, in a tone more resembling a suggestion than the order it actually was, "the doors lock automatically in case of a power outage, so we're safe inside as long as we keep them shut. Plus, all the roads are closed. If they don't know, they could end up panicking, opening the doors, then getting stuck outside during all the riots. We should probably let them know, and make sure everyone's on the same page on staying inside til morning."

"Oh, yeah!" Caitlyn exclaimed. "I didn't even think of that!"

"Yeah," Meghan added, mimicking some of her fellow freshman's enthusiasm, "Maybe we can just go around, make sure everyone's alright, and make plans to get rides for anyone who needs them in the morning? Like, I can drive you to Bryce's apartment with my mum and Heather, and Ryan can get his girlfriend, that sort of thing."

"That sounds like a good idea," the other girl said, seemingly relieved that she now had a way to reach her boyfriend. "Do you want me to go get them?"

"None of us should split up," Katie said sharply, then softened her tone at the sight of Caitlyn's palpable shock. "We don't want to get separated — I'm sure you girls can find your way around here just fine, but Heather and I aren't as familiar. It would be a weight off my mind if we stayed together, I wouldn't want to lose one of Meghan's friends in the dark."

Caitlyn seemed mollified at the woman's explanation, unsuspecting of her true reasons behind why she didn't want to let them out of her sight. "Alright," she agreed. "Just follow me and Meghan, we'll lead you down to the basement."

Caitlyn, confidence restored, led the charge out the door, Meghan at her side lighting the way with her red torch. Trailing behind them, Heather and Katie shared a knowing look as Heather slid the hunting knife over to Katie's outstretched hand. The older woman tucked it in the waistband of her pants, eyes dark as she searched the shadows for any signs of the monsters from earlier that day.

Then, with daughter's hand tightly grasped in mother's, they followed them into the darkness.

✖  ✖  ✖

The hallway was empty, and dark save for the blaze of crimson Meghan's lantern provided, and the LED flashlight on Caitlyn's phone, which painted the hall in swaths of red and white.

She tried to hide her flinch whenever a loose floorboard in the aging building creaked underfoot, grateful that Caitlyn wasn't looking her way the few times she did.

Meghan wasn't superstitious. Never had been. But after the day she'd had, she couldn't help but resort to imagining milk-white eyes watching her from the darkness, broken nails clawing at her through the stair railings. On some level, she wondered if maybe all of them felt that way.

None of them spoke, even Caitlyn. It felt like they were walking through a tomb. The silence hung over them like a specter, only broken up by the white noise of the crowd outside, and the background buzz of flies as they flitted over the week's trash, still not taken out.

She supposed the cleaning woman never got a chance to, before...

No. She couldn't go there, not now.

Meghan's head jerked back, red light bouncing irregularly as she swatted at the fly insistent on buzzing around her head.

Caitlyn paused, looking back as Meghan roughly waved it off, mouth drawn into a half-pout half-scowl, nose scrunched in disgust before it finally left the airspace from around her hair. It continued its lopsided flight past Caitlyn, who leaned heavily back away from the pest as well. It moved on, buzzing ever present as it alighted on stained white tile, lapping at a familiar puddle.

Meghan felt her throat constrict as the realization of what the fly was heading towards dawned on her. With everything else going on, they hadn't had time to fully clean up the blood from Georgie's attack.

Caitlyn's eyes drifted to the bathroom. LED light followed the movement of her dark eyes until they finally landed upon her target, stopping with a sharp gasp. The red tincture of blood and water reflected them back in garish color, distorted by the ripples caused from their movements in the hall. Over a dozen flies had already been attracted to the vile mixture, swarming the bathroom in search of it, flitting over the puddle as they attempted to find a place to settle. And to top it all off, a wet floor sign fallen over beside the entrance.

Red water. Dozens of black, crawling legs. A rhinestone broken off beside the trash bin in the bathroom. Georgie's sunken eyes, watching her still. The buzzing felt like it was coming from inside her head, she couldn't escape it if she wanted to. Her mouth felt dry, her palms slick and barely maintaining their grasp on the lantern. Somehow, seeing the aftermath of the attack, laid out like a crime scene, was worse than seeing the actual body.

"Is that," Caitlyn stammered, "blood?"

Meghan's heart stilled, her incessant thoughts grinding to a halt as the reality of their situation dawned on them. Don't panic, she chided herself internally, gripping her lantern tight enough to hurt. Control it. Heather's wide eyes darted towards hers, searching desperately for any idea on how to respond.

There was no way Caitlyn, who insisted on catching bugs and releasing them outside, who cried at Hallmark movies, who went into nursing in the hopes of going into end-of life care, because 'no one should have to die alone,' would be able to process what had happened to Georgie. What they had done to Georgie.

She had to find a way to play this off.

"Yeah," Meghan said, praying desperately that Caitlyn wouldn't hear her heart thudding relentlessly in her ears. She forced a laugh, "I think someone dropped a diva cup earlier. Cleaning staff was supposed to mop it up, but I guess they left when the riots started. Gross, right?"

Caitlyn's expression was impossible to make out, shadows concealing her true emotions. Throwing a quick glance behind them, Meghan could make out the stilted panic on her mother and sister's faces.

Meghan's grip tightened again on the lantern's handle. Please buy it. Please.

"Oh," Caitlyn let out a sigh. "That's good. With everything that's been going on today, I was worried something terrible had happened."

You have no idea. The Criminal Justice major kept her thoughts to herself, and instead suggested, "We should probably close this off for now. So nobody gets the wrong idea. Plus, we don't want the people outside seeing our lights on."

Caitlyn nodded. "You're right," she said, and shut the bathroom door carefully, making sure not to create too much noise when doing so.

As the bathroom finally disappeared from view, Meghan held back the sigh of relief threatening to escape from her lips. That was way too close.

The blonde gave a self-conscious laugh. "Sorry," she said. "I guess I've been pretty jumpy today. I'll try not to act so scared in front of the others."

Guilt welled inside Meghan's chest — when Caitlyn found out what happened to Georgie, she was going to hate her.

If she survives to hate you, then that means you succeeded, a voice whispered inside her mind.

Meghan knew, as cold as it sounded, that it was right. While she didn't like lying to her roommate, arguably her closest (and honestly, only) friend at college, it was for the best. Caitlyn wasn't the kind of person that could push down her emotions and focus on survival, and Meghan couldn't risk her causing a panic and getting them all killed.

It might not have been entirely ethical, but if it got all of them out of there safe and sound, she could live with that.

"It's fine," Meghan forced a small, tentative smile. "It's been a pretty stressful day."

The trip to the basement was tense, and silent. The echoing jeers and flashing lights of the outside rioters cast shadows along the walls, and played games with their senses.

"We should shut off our lights," Katie whispered as they approached the first floor. "Don't want them seeing us in here."

"Good idea," Caitlyn whispered in reply before they shut off their lantern and phone lights and embraced the darkness.

The women kept quiet as they crept through the barren dorm, that had just that morning been filled with rowdy freshmen. Sunlight had died and their path was now lit by the crackling fire from outside. The sink she and Caitlyn had brushed their teeth side-by-side at this morning was now stained with Georgie's blood.

How quickly things could change.

They switched on their lights again while entering the basement. It appeared just as empty as the rest of the building, but Meghan's heart still jumped at every creak at her feet and every shadow on the wall. Get it together, she chastised herself. You're supposed to be stronger than this.

She wasn't, though. She was the girl who would twist herself into knots over getting below a 95% on a quiz. Whatever was happening now, she wasn't ready for it.

She had to be. Whatever was coming, she had to be ready for it, because her family needed her to be, and that was all that mattered.

"005," Caitlyn whispered, counting out the basement doors as they went. "006..."

Names and photos were plastered onto the doors with abandon. The triple in 008 consisting of two business majors and a sociology major that sat two rows across from her in Psych 101 made duck faces at the camera against a sunny backdrop of sand and sky in a Polaroid posted to their door with foam heart stickers.

Knowing this might be the last time she saw them for a long time, possibly forever, left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"011," Caitlyn finished, coming to the peeling grey door emblazoned with photos of the duo who lived inside in significantly less expellable positions than they posted on their private socials (both Ryan and Kyle liked to indulge in some unsavory substances their respective teachers wouldn't approve of). In them, they were grinning widely, faces flushed with exertion and sun-kissed, peeling slightly at the nose from a long day outside. Healthy, happy, and fully alive.

Meghan didn't want to imagine what they looked like now.

Caitlyn's fingers stretched out to the door handle, and Meghan's heart jumped into her throat as visions of chewed-upon flesh and clouded eyes crowded the darkest parts of her imagination.

Gnashing teeth and bloody molars, chewing on a carcass like a dog with a bone—

"Wait," Meghan almost snapped at the girl, her tone coming out far more harsh than she wanted. She adjusted it, quickly covering with, "We should knock first. Make sure they're...decent."

And if the noise that comes back is the sound of shuffling feet and rasping breath, then we'll have a long conversation with Caitlyn about what exactly is going on, she thought to herself. Georgie was hard enough to take down on her own. Armed solely with a hunting knife with a five inch blade, she didn't like their chances up against a room of...the infected, or dead, or whatever the hell those things were.

Caitlyn nodded. "Alright," she agreed, eyebrows scrunched in subtle confusion at her friend's bizarre reaction. Dutifully, she rapped upon the door.

There was a half-beat of silence, and Meghan had the nerve to hope that Caitlyn was wrong before and the dorm truly was empty, its inhabitants all left except for them.

She was naive to hope.

The two girls jerked at the sharp reply of shattered glass and water sloshing sounded from within the locked dorm.

Meghan bit the inside of her cheek. Involuntarily, she took half a step back as she gripped the edge of Caitlyn's sleeve, prepared to yank the girl back within a moment's notice.

The pretty blonde shot her another curious look — a silent question of 'What is with you today?' going unspoken between the two friends before their attention was again diverted by the sounds of shuffling and muffled grunts from within the room.

The Criminal Justice major's jaw clenched, a familiar prickling dancing up along her spine like ice water as the shuffling neared the door.

Slurred speech sounded from inside. "Whossit?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

"Caitlyn," the girl chirped, missing the way the Darcy family's shoulders slumped in relief behind her. "That you, Kyle?"

Silence. Then, "...you didn't call over Campo, did you?"

"No," Caitlyn frowned at the familiar slang for the campus police. "I didn't call Campo. The phones are down."

"Really? Oh, shit."

There was the sound of excessive fiddling on the other side of the door, which Meghan could only assume came from Kyle's inability to locate the single lock in his inebriated state. The painted door swung open, and Meghan cringed back as she was met with the overwhelming stench of weed that burst out upon contact with the open air.

The freshman towered above the two in the doorway, peering over the group. Kyle was a big guy — used to play football in high school, but had since quit. He had the build for it, certainly, but lacked the temperament to self-discipline, if the reek of marijuana on his clothes was anything to go by.

Of all times they could've gotten high, they chose the one night the dead started to rise.

Actually, Meghan realized with a start, it wasn't just that night, was it? No, the addict she (accidentally) hit with her car earlier that week had described exactly the same thing. And Georgie had been sick then, too.

She had gotten lucky, the realization dawned on her. If Georgie had turned earlier, or if her family had come one day later, she might be dead right now. Or worse...a rotting, flesh eating monster. Like her.

It was like that guy had said; they weren't human anymore.

Coming back to reality, she took a quick appraisal of the room, glancing around at its four inhabitants in a half-hearted attempt to distract herself from her dark thoughts. The group was sprawled around all four corners of the double room's floor, in various states of intoxication. The room, too, had seen better days. In the corner, water spilled out onto the floor from an overturned and broken bong, likely the source of the noise they'd heard. The puddle was faintly illuminated by what looked like a child's toy projecting constellations upon the ceiling of the double — a stoner's imitation of Starry Night Over the Rhone.

Someone had hung a car air freshener by a coat hook beside the door, but that did little to dissipate the overwhelming stench of weed that was already making Meghan's eyes water.

Kyle's eyes were red-rimmed, and unfocused. He had a dazed smile, and apparently still hadn't realized he was blocking the doorway.

Marcia sat cross-legged in the middle of a stained area rug, giggling at an unspoken joke behind one hand while the other grasped loosely at a constellation projected onto the wall.

A waifish girl Meghan didn't recognize sat beside the Psych major that she did — Ryan's arm was slung around her shoulder as she buried her face in his neck with a groan, her boyfriend squinting against the harsh light of their lantern and flashlight with a glare.

Ryan seemed annoyed, and stood on shaky legs, his girlfriend clutching loosely at his shirt before giving up as he leaned heavily against the twin bed behind him. "What're"—he stumbled, falling backwards onto the bed before standing again—"What're you doing here?"

They were completely stoned. She didn't know if that made their chances better, or worse.

She had some leftover bottled water from when she went to the gym the other day, Meghan considered. Cold water helped sober people up quickly, right? No, she decided quickly. It wouldn't be worth it to waste drinking water on the off-chance it would clear their minds.

These people were useless at the moment. They were going to have to handle this themselves.

As she thought it in her head, Marcia toppled over, almost knocking the constellation toy into the bong water before she grabbed it, clutching the fluffy turtle to her chest with a giggle.

"Jeez, Marci, how much did you smoke?" Caitlyn asked.

Marcia—or Marci, as Caitlyn called her—shook her head vehemently. "Didn't smoke!" she burst out. "I just had a few brownies."

"Define a few," Meghan deadpanned.

Marcia paused, counting out on her fingers to a number far past three.

Meghan turned to Caitlyn. "Yeah, she's gone."

Caitlyn appeared horrified. "We have an exam next Monday for lab!" she exclaimed. "You promised we would be study buddies!"

Marcia pointed a shaky finger at Caitlyn. "You never came," she accused, waving her hand side to side. "Said you'd come after jogging and you didn't."

Caitlyn defended herself. "That's only cause—OW!" she stopped as Meghan jabbed her in the ribs with her elbow, sending the nursing major a pointed look.

"Ixnay on the onecallphay," Meghan whispered sharply. "You seriously think they can handle that kind of news right now?"

"Didn't have to hit me," the girl snapped back, rubbing her side gingerly.

"Sorry," Meghan replied, not feeling very sorry at all.

Caitlyn groaned under her breath. "If we can't tell them about the riots, then what can we tell them?"

"Tell us what?"

The girls attention was diverted to Ryan, who had made his way up off the floor and settled himself (along with his incredibly clingy girlfriend) upon the bottom bunk. The freshman Psych major's eyes were narrowed, appraising them as if he knew they had something to hide.

Caitlyn shifted under the scrutiny, nimble fingers playing with the end of her ponytail. "Um, well..."

Caitlyn was even more strait-laced than she was, there was no way she was going to come up with an answer. It was up to her again to figure out a lie.

The easiest lies are the ones people already believe.

"Nothing," Meghan shrugged, hoping the dimmed lighting was enough to hide the hot flush of her cheeks. "Just heard a rumor that Campo got called on some idiots smoking weed in the basement and wanted to check to make sure you guys knew."

Kyle's face went pale. "Shit, someone called Campo?"

"Maybe," Caitlyn played along, scrunching up her face in concern. "We just wanted to make sure you knew."

"Shit," Kyle dragged out the word, raking a hand through his close-cropped hair. "This whole place smells like weed, there's no way they're gonna believe it wasn't us!"

"You can come wait upstairs with us on the third floor," Meghan suggested. "As long as we stay quiet and keep all the lights off, no one should think to check up there."

"Really?" Marcia's eyes shone.

Caitlyn nodded eagerly. "Yep!" She said. "Just come with us and we'll wait till this whole thing blows over, yeah!"

"Aw, thank you sooo much, Caity!" Marcia gushed. "I owe you!"

Thank God for the complacency of happy stoners.

As the group began to pack up, each in varying states of intoxication (Ryan seemed the best off, though he was hindered by the girl hanging off his arm in an impressive imitation of a koala), Meghan took the opportunity to pull her friend aside to discuss tactics while the group was distracted.

"My mum, sister, and I are going to try and fortify this place a bit, make sure no one can get in," Meghan said, jerking her head towards the group. "Would you keep an eye on them upstairs?"

Caitlyn nodded. "Yeah, sure. You'll come up after, right?"

Meghan nodded. "Yeah. Shouldn't take too long. Just keep them occupied." She waved her hand dismissively. "Give them some animal crackers, distract them."

"Animal crackers?"

"Yeah? Stoners get hungry, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure if they want animal crackers. They're not five," Caitlyn pointed out.

"They might as well be, for how helpful they are," Meghan muttered. "Just keep them quiet, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," the girl sighed, and shot Meghan a sharp look the softer girl usually reserved for misbehaving patients. "Stay safe!" she pointed an accusatory finger at her. "If you get hurt, I'll kill you myself."

Meghan grinned — possibly the first time she'd done so since all this started. "You too."

✖  ✖  ✖

Aaand we finally end a chapter on a peaceful note. For now. 😅

Do you think they're making the right choice keeping Caitlyn in the dark? What do you think about Meghan's dorm-mates?

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