[CONTENTID1]

fifty-five: calm before the storm

[/CONTENTID1][CONTENTID2]

[“Be careful.”]

[/CONTENTID2][CONTENTID3]

It was the dead of night. The hallways were almost completely dark, with only blurred shapes and mountains of shadows to make out. Plumbing churned noisily through walls and ceilings.

In the darkness and silence, whispers could be heard, like the faint squeaks of mice. Ink-blot shadows tiptoed up and down the ruined hallways of High Class, making preparations and delivering messages. None dared to speak above a whisper, or move too quickly or loudly.

Two of those shadows were making their way down the hallway near the boys’ dorms, muttering softly to each other.

”If Chanyeol knocks over another chair, I will kill him.”

”Give him a break, Yeonie. The guy’s got two left feet.”

Juyeon readjusted her grip on the cardboard box she was carrying, and despite being completely unable to look at anything in the dark, she glared at Suho’s general direction for good measure. “We’re trying to be discreet, here! What’s even the point of all these preparations if the GTA hear us tripping over everything?”

The GTA was the new nickname for the people outside, doing their own mysterious preparations. It stood for “Gun-Toting s”.

Chanyeol had been very proud to make it up.

”I highly doubt a single chair falling to the ground will make enough noise to be heard outside, more than a hundred feet away.” She couldn’t see, but Juyeon knew Suho was smiling at her.

”Maybe they installed sound detectors or something nearby. Who knows? Now c’mon, we need to get to Outpost A double-time.”

”You’re the one holding me down, you know. Because you can’t see in the dark.”

”Well—well—that’s not fair.” Juyeon had learned, to her dismay, that PCs could see relatively well in the dark, and could even make out distinct individual shapes. She had recalled, with much embarrassment, how clever she thought she’d been to hide underneath the water fountain that night all those months ago, and had been so sure that Kai hadn’t seen her. She realized how stupid she must have looked: squeezed into the tiny space between two lockers, pressed up against the wall, closing her eyes and holding her breath and Kai could see her all along.

”No wonder you knew I was following you,” she had muttered to him once she found out.

”You were so cute, thinking I actually couldn’t see you,” Kai had responded happily. “In those Minnie Mouse pyjamas and dorky glasses. I just had to play along.”

”You do realize that, because of you, I am in High Class in the first place, right?”

Kai had paused then to consider it, then turned to Juyeon and gave her a smile sweeter than sugar, the one that belonged to the real Kai. “Yeah,” he had said, softly, “and thank God for that.”

She had walked around with burning, reddened cheeks for a while after that.

”Laugh it up all you want, Suho, but when I trip over some rubble or a broken table or something and impale myself, who’s gonna be in charge of this hellhole?”

”Do you want me to hold your hand?” Suho asked, laughing a little. He sounded like he was only half-joking.

”That would be nice, Suho, but I need both hands to not drop this thing.”

”We’ll postpone the hand-holding to a later time, then. Outpost A coming up.”

What they dubbed “Outpost A” was really just the end of the hallway near the boys’ dorms, where a small side door led out to a dirt path near the forest. The door had been blocked by a miniature barricade of tables, chairs, and twisted-up lockers, piled high enough upwards that Juyeon could only make out a sliver of moonlight peeking out through the door’s thick glass panel. At least a dozen or so PCs were stationed there.

”I got what you asked for,” Juyeon said, setting the box onto the floor. “Meals for everybody. Just try to ration them, okay? I don’t know how the cooking squad managed to figure out how to make these, but we don’t want to run out. We don’t know how long this’ll last.”

”Thanks, normie,” a girl said, opening up the box to reveal miscellaneous jars of multicoloured blobs. “We’ll need these, I think Hawon is about to fall asleep at any moment.”

”Kick him and tell him to stay awake.”

”That’s what I’ve been doing. Don’t worry, nothing’s gonna get through this door on my watch.”

”That’s the kind of attitude I like to hear.” Juyeon turned to survey the small hallway in the darkness. She could make out Suho quietly talking to the other PCs huddled behind the barricade, keeping watch. They had visited quite a few of the little outposts that night, and she noticed Suho would immediately go talk to the others while Juyeon made plans with the more-or-less official leaders. She wondered if he was rallying them, giving them pep talks or something. It seemed like something Suho’s silver tongue could accomplish better than she ever could.

”Hey. Juyeon.” She turned back around to the girl, who she could see was giving Juyeon a tired little smile. “We’re gonna get out of this just fine, alright, normal? We’ll show those gun-toting maniacs where they can go kick it.”

”Yeah. Yeah, I … thanks.” Juyeon weakly laughed. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard something so optimistic. I feel like I’m the only one who thinks we can actually do this, and even then, my hope is waning.”

”You’re no use to us moping around,” the girl said, nudging her side. “Don’t worry. Now that we’re in actual danger, I think we’ll be just fine. No chaos like before. Our heads are cool.”

”I guess it’s a good thing our lives are on the line, then, huh? I better head out, I need to see if Outpost E’s all right, then I’m going back to K.”

”Sure thing. See ya, normal.”

She wondered when exactly did “normal” and “normie” start to sound like fond nicknames rather than sneering slurs.

Juyeon tapped Suho’s back. “Let’s go.”

”Sure thing.” They headed back down the hallway, into the stillness that tried to trick them into thinking it was peaceful.

”They seemed hopeful,” Suho said. “The barricades we’ve been putting up seem to be doing the trick.”

Juyeon laughed a litt