Chapter 3 Where They Couldn't Follow

Tears blurred my vision as I stared at Julian. My voice came out almost as a whisper. "Why didn't you warn anyone? If you knew something was coming… they might still be alive."

For a long moment, he said nothing.

He looked away, his jaw tight, as though the truth was too painful to face.

At last, he broke the silence. "Autumn, I couldn't save them."

The words hit with brutal finality.

"If I had tried to warn anyone or told them what was coming, it wouldn't have changed anything. We would've died there too." His voice fell lower. "Or maybe worse."

His hand tightened around mine. "I couldn't risk our only chance to survive. I couldn't save them. I could only save you. Nothing matters more to me than keeping you alive."

I didn't know what to say.

He looked exhausted, worn down by something deeper than fear. There was still something boyish in his face, but now it was buried beneath strain, grief, and sleepless dread.

And the more he revealed, the less anything made sense.

My thoughts spun wildly. 'How could an entire school die in a single night? How did Julian know it was coming? And what are we still running from?'

He reached up and brushed the tears from my face with the back of his fingers, so gently it didn't feel real.

"Don't think about it tonight," he said softly. "Just be grateful you're alive, and try to get some rest."

He got up, checked the strips of black tape over the door one last time, then lay down on one side of the bed without even changing his clothes. "We leave again in the morning."

I nodded, though my mind was still reeling. Then, exhaustion crashed over me all at once—heavy, absolute, impossible to fight. I lay down beside him, and within minutes, sleep dragged me under.

However, sleep offered no relief.

My dreams splintered into feverish flashes—warped lights, faceless shadows, and sounds I couldn't name, only fear.

A violent buzzing tore me awake.

Julian and I both shot upright.

The screen glowed with dozens of missed calls.

Then, I saw the caller ID, and a cold shiver slid down my spine.

They were from his parents.

I turned to him slowly. "Julian… your parents died years ago."

Ever since the accident, he had lived with his grandparents. So, who was calling him now?

The phone began vibrating again.

Julian's face went pale. He answered immediately but didn't speak. Instead, he pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes locking onto mine with a sharp warning. 'Stay quiet.'

I covered my mouth with both hands and held my breath.

At first, there was only silence.

Then, something shifted on the other end of the line.

A scraping sound tore through the silence, harsher than static, worse than interference.

It was wet, jagged, and deeply wrong—like nails dragging across a chalkboard, or bone grinding against stone.

The sound went on and on, unbearable and utterly inhuman.

Julian recoiled as if he'd been struck.

"Get the hell away from us!" he yelled into the phone.

With shaking hands, he ripped out the SIM card and hurled the phone and the card across the room. They slammed into the bathroom tile and shattered.

His head snapped toward me. "We have to go. Now."

He was already stuffing things into his bag when I moved. A second later, he seized my wrist and pulled me out the door.

We didn't stop at the front desk to check out. We just ran, not daring to look back.

…

Outside, morning sunlight spilled across the street, bright and clear, yet it felt cold and far away.

"Where are we going?" I asked, breathless as I struggled to keep up.

"Farther," Julian answered. "As far as we can. We need to get somewhere they can't reach."

Later, wearing masks and caps, we blended into the crowd as we boarded a westbound bus.

Just before it pulled away, Julian pressed a folded map into my hand and told me to memorize the place he had marked.

"If we get separated, meet me there." He waited until I looked up before adding quietly, "And if something happens to me… you still go. No matter what. That's the only place you might survive."

I lowered my gaze to the map again, to the red circle he had drawn by hand.

The moment I recognized the location, everything inside me went still.

Not with confusion, but with the crushing weight of understanding.

In an instant, everything connected—why he had dragged me out of school, why he hadn't warned anyone else, why thousands had died in a single night, and why we were still running.

At last, I understood the truth.