Shatterday

Multishot; June 9, 2018

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Cactus
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Shatterday

#1

Post by Cactus »

June 9, 2018; 9:12am
Chattanooga, Tennessee


The room came very slowly into focus; things were blurry. Where was he? This didn't look familiar, did it? He couldn't tell. Couldn't see, didn't feel right. Everything was askew; nothing felt as it should. His arm was swollen, didn't want to move properly. His legs felt dull, stone blocks in a shallow pool. He groaned audibly. There wasn't pain per se, but a feeling of- not fatigue, but as though his head was a bubble. He blinked once more, things got a bit clearer. Grimacing, he stretched his right arm. The left, of course, was immobile.

Ross Miller yawned, letting the end turn into a sigh.

Percocets were a hell of a drug.

Blinking some conscious back into his mind, Ross reached down with his right hand and grabbed his cell phone from where it was plugged in, resting on the edge of his bed. Thankfully that was its usual spot, and so it felt natural in his hand, normal. Having at least half of his bodily function available to him was nice; struggling when trying to figure out how to maneuver his injured arm to put on a t-shirt? That was a whole other feeling entirely. Toggling the display, he smiled a bit to see that he still continued to have a pile full of notifications. Several of his WhatsApp group chats had been going off all through the night, Ariana had sent him a few texts and what looked to be a few more Snapchats, and he was even tagged in a handful of Facebook notifications as though he'd been on the trip. It was still early, around 9am, and so in theory the bus should be getting back from the overnight trip around now. Scrolling through the array of unread messages, his face fell a little as he came upon one of Ariana's texts.

Bus broke down, so we're changing to another one. Gonna be late getting back. 4am's too early for this shit. I miss u and my own bed. Somebody's snoring. fml.

So it looked as though the trip would be delayed getting back, which was a bit disappointing. Through the whole week, he'd been looking forward to seeing his girlfriend and his other pals and debriefing them on the shenanigans of the week. Grunting as he put the phone down and slowly sat up, he supposed that it wasn't all bad news. A delay getting home would likely mean that everyone would be tired and miserable when the bus pulled over, though it also meant that if he timed it right, he could actually meet the bus as it arrived. A smile crept upon his face. He hadn't gotten out of the house very much all week, and that sounded like just what the doctor ordered as far as his recovery was concerned. Ross was starting to go a little stir-crazy confined to the couch, and it had been a week since he'd been hurt; getting up and walking around would probably do him a whole lot of good.

Grabbing his phone and firing off a few quick excited texts, to Ariana, to Morgan, to some of his group chats, he smiled as he once more put the phone down and started on the odyssey ahead of him: taking off his shirt and having a shower. He sighed as he swivelled his legs and slowly stood up. It was probably going to take him a damned hour. He'd never take this stuff for granted ever again.
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Cactus
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#2

Post by Cactus »

June 9, 2018; 11:46am
Chattanooga, Tennessee


It was sunny out today, and the breeze on his face as he walked down the street was a welcome change from being stapled to the indoors, fearful of running in to anything that would result in an exacerbation of his injury. As a general rule, Ross didn't feel that he was a very fearful person. Sure, he thought through things probably just a little bit more than most people, but as far as his own bodily well-being was concerned, he usually just kind of went with it and figured that he was durable enough to withstand whatever the universe threw at him. Of course, this time around, the universe truly had flung a big old boulder in his direction and he hadn't quite managed to dodge it. He was keeping the sling tight and he was grateful for the strap that he wore around the waist, which kept his arm securely fastened and barely moving up and down as he walked. The doctors had said that he would likely need to keep it immobile for a week, and then prescribed a myriad of rehab appointments and exercises that he would need to do.

Eight weeks. That had been the prognosis, when he'd be able to get back to full activity. Eight weeks was basically half of the summer. He really, really hoped that it wouldn't take him that long to get to the point where he could lift his damned arm over his head. There'd already been so much that he'd lost thanks to this stupid injury. His hockey season was over, the fucking DC trip that he'd been basically hyping to anyone who would listen all year had come and gone with him pasted to his bed, and he couldn't imagine that his thrice-weekly physio sessions were going to be a barrel of laughs once they started next week. Even after a week of limited mobility, his shoulder still ached at times, and his pace towards the school wasn't exactly brisk. If he could avoid any further injury or pain, he would. The Percocets helped him sleep, but Ross really didn't want to rely upon them any longer than he had to. He'd tried to stick to a schedule of only using them if the pain got really bad, or if sleeping was truly impossible.

He felt too invincible when he took them, so thanks, but no thanks. No wonder people got addicted.

It had taken a lot longer than he'd hoped to get himself out of bed, crank a shower and change into some fresh clothes. The buses were supposed to be getting back earlier that morning, but if Ariana's last message had been any indication, his tardy arrival to the school would have been more or less just in time. He'd grabbed his earphones, his Nashville Predators baseball cap and sunglasses, and when he'd headed out the door, he hadn't bothered to check in with his folks. They would have insisted on driving him, but he needed this walk. He needed to be reminded that he could actually do shit on his own, not feel so goddamn helpless all the time.

It had taken some time, but here he was. He'd once run here in less than ten minutes, this trip had taken him more like forty. The sign for George Hunter High School proudly wished its seniors a great time on their class trip, and he rolled his eyes to himself as he made his way along the sidewalk towards the entrance. To his chagrin, the bus hadn't rolled in yet, and he could see a couple of cars in the parking lot, idling and obviously waiting for the arrival of the boisterous group of seniors. It was truly amazing that Ross hasn't heard stories of anyone killing one another; putting this group in a small confined space would have been a recipe for that, he'd have figured. But hey - it was the end of the run, so why not get along? It was hot as fuck outside today, and so as he approached the school, he decided that he'd wait beside the foyer, just outside of the entrance, in the shade. It would probably feel good on his shoulder and he could stretch his legs out, plus it wouldn't seem like he was loitering.

It wasn't like he'd be waiting all that long, right?
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Cactus
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#3

Post by Cactus »

June 9, 2018; 2:22pm
Chattanooga, Tennessee


Blinking his eyes, Ross' return to consciousness felt more like a sluggish effort than a true snapped-to-attention-style one. Oh, man - he'd dozed off. His music was still going - the Lovin' Spoonful was belting out Summer in the City in his ears, and the sun had crept a bit further toward his spot outside, leaning back against the brick exterior of his school. How long had he been asleep? With a little difficulty, he looked down at his phone. That kicked him back into reality a little. Three hours?! Obviously the deleterious effects of the Percocets hadn't entirely left his system. Plus, with how little walking he'd done over the last week, he wasn't altogether surprised that he'd zonked out. But at the side of his school?

That was embarrassing.

Shaking the cobwebs out of his mind, he took one more look down at his phone. Oddly enough, it was still devoid of any notifications. No texts from Ariana, no Facebook posts to be tagged in - not even a Snapchat from anyone on the trip. After a week of which his phone had seemingly had a life of its own, it was a little weird to see it so quiet. Groaning a bit, Ross took a moment to pull himself back to his feet, doing so with one shoulder a more difficult proposition than he'd usually find it.

Weird - all of the cars that were in the parking lot waiting still happened to be there, and even more so, there seemed to be an unusual amount of adults congregating together, milling about in the centre of the driveway. The bus still hadn't gotten here yet? Damn. Had he not dozed off, Ross would probably have been more pissed about waiting so long himself. How long had it taken them to change buses? If Ariana's last text had been any indication, it couldn't have been more than a few hours. Frowning, Ross looked over at the adults milling about in the parking lot. There were an awful lot of annoyed-looking mothers, a few bored fathers and no one looking overly concerned.

He glanced down at his phone again, unlocked the device, and opened his first WhatsApp group chat that he saw. It was a chat with Richard Smith, Ned Jackson and Morgan Dragosavich. The four of them had worked on some group project back in English class and while the project hadn't been anything special, the group chat had quickly devolved into the sharing of memes and ridiculous shit from around class. All three guys had their phones almost glued to them on the regular. Quickly, he tapped in a message.

Hey, where are you guys? Bus is taking forever?

He saw the telltale single grey check mark, indicating that his message had reached the server. Waiting for a moment, he looked for the second check mark, indicating delivery.

Ross stared at the message; waited some more.

The second check mark never came.

"Huh."

Backing out, he opened his and Ariana's chat conversation and sent her a similar message.

You must be just dying being on that bus for so long. ETA back?

The same, solitary grey check mark appeared, and lingered. Its brethren never joined it, either. They'd been on the bus for ages, maybe most of them had shut their phones off - or even more plausibly, they'd all run out of batteries. Ross blinked to himself. All four of them? Ariana or Ned, he could see, but Morgan was anal about his phone having enough juice. He would have shut it off, odds were. Clicking back out of his WhatsApp, he logged on to Facebook and looked for recent posts. There were a few photos and videos from frustrated bus-goers, all time stamped for 4am. After that, though? Nothing.

Yawning, Ross frowned, and decided to do the one thing that he surmised many of the parents outside hadn't yet done - it was time to go and ask for some answers. Carefully pulling the headphones out of his ears and stuffing them in his pocket, Ross wandered over to the front door of the school and pulled the double-doors open. He was hit by a blast of cool, recirculated air that woke him up even more. His mind still felt dull, but every step he took inside of the artificially cooled building perked him up even more. The main office was near to the end of the main hallway, and that was where he set his sights. Surely someone inside could tell him what was up.

As he approached, the door to the main office opened, and Ross' face visibly softened. Perfect - he'd taken his fair share of drama courses, and Mrs. Hoffman was the perfect person to ask for some information. He'd always enjoyed her courses, though sometimes she wasn't exactly the epitome of a stark professional teacher, oversharing on a good day. Smiling as he approached, he raised his good arm in greeting.

"Hey, Mrs. Hoffman!"

The curvy drama teacher had obviously been worlds away at the moment, and she was obviously startled by Ross' sudden appearance in front of her, not paying any attention to the students ahead of her. He noticed that she seemed downcast, the stress of the school year ending often showed on some teachers more than others. With any luck, she'd have a good summer to recover and recuperate once her job was all said and done.

He had always liked Mrs. Hoffman - she always meant well.

Composing herself from the sudden start, the drama teacher put on a polite smile, holding her hand to her breast.

"Oh, Ross, hello. I'm sorry, I didn't see you there, you startled me. How is your shoulder?"

Returning the smile, though noting that her voice as well was devoid of its usual pep, Ross glanced down at his slinged arm and shrugged - at least, he tried, grimacing and then rolling his eyes at himself as a twinge of pain reminded him that shrugging was off the table for the foreseeable future.

"It's good, Miss. They say eight weeks and I'll be good to go, so I'll get a bit of a summer at least." The teacher nodded in return and made a move to continue on her way. Ross continued, stopping her in her tracks.

"Hey, um. I came over here because I told Ariana that I'd meet her on the way back, and uh," he trailed off, noting the very quick flicker of - something, that was gone from her face as soon as it had appeared. "I was just wondering if you'd heard when they were due to come in?"

Shifting uncomfortably in place, the freckled drama teacher exhaled, the smile still pasted to her face. Something feels very wrong here, Ross noted as he listened to her explanation.

"Oh, right. The class trip, well, there was," Mrs. Hoffman may as well have been having a cavity pulled with how comfortable she looked right now, "there was a small delay when the bus broke down. You know how traffic gets in the morning, I'm, I'm sure they should be arriving within a few hours."

Skeptically, Ross slowly glanced up at the analog clock that was mounted on the wall. A few hours from now? That meant that the return trip would have basically been doubled. What was going on here?

"Are you sure about that, Miss? I heard they were delayed, but like," he stretched the syllable, "this is a bit much, isn't it? Not to mention, nobody's responding to my texts."

Barely managing to keep the smile on her face, this time Ross picked up on the fallacy of her mood. Mrs. Hoffman was a drama teacher, and while the adage went that those who couldn't ended up in the classroom, she was still capable of sliding into a role for a play or a presentation. As far as drama teachers went, she wasn't all that bad of an actress. So this whole song and dance was both alarming and incredibly transparent.

"I-I'm sure that it's probably nothing. We're expecting, they, the bus should be back this afternoon."

"Come on," he sniped, realizing his tone after the words had already come out. The smile fell off of his teacher's face immediately.

"Pardon me?"

Oh well. He still felt groggy, his shoulder still mildly ached, and his teacher was lying to his face. Fuck it - in for a penny, in for a pound.

"Mrs. Hoffman, with all due respect, I don't think you're telling me the truth, here. I've been waiting outside for hours for these buses to come back - hell, I even dozed off in the sun! Nobody's answering me, and if something happened, I think that I have a right to know. Was there an accident, is it a liability thing? What's going on?"

A feeling set in the pit of his stomach now as he watched his teacher react to his mini-diatribe. While a bit of a pushover at the best of times, he had seen what happened when people spoke down to Mrs. Hoffman, and it wasn't pretty. She had what could be described as a stage presence, her voice capable of projecting in almost any space. He'd expected a bit of that projection in return - he was dating Ariana Moretti, for Christ sake, so it wasn't like he was afraid of getting yelled at - but instead, he got the opposite. Any strength or superiority that her age and position afforded her seemed to melt away.

"I... we don't know."

Reaching up with his right hand, he took the baseball cap off of his head, and put it back on just as quickly, as though allowing his head a moment to breathe. His voice and expression were incredulous, sarcastic. Something was deeply wrong.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

His already slight teacher seemed to shrink even more. She didn't even look like an adult anymore. She just looked like someone just trying to hang on. Her voice was quiet, just above a whisper. "We don't know where they are."

Ross mouthed the words back at her, trying to understand, then gave his head a small shake. "You don't know where they are? Miss, how do you lose an entire bus full of high school kids? It's kind of hard to just misplace something like that! Buses full of kids and teachers don't just up and go mis-"




A jolt of electricity rocketed through Ross' body.





"Oh."





The two stood in silence for a moment, and he realized just what had been so off about his teacher's expression. Her eyes were glassy.

Like she'd been crying.



Immediately, he knew. He knew, and his mind went blank.




His own expression crumpled from sarcasm and annoyance to total shell-shock. Everything lined up in his mind. The bus incident. The late arrival. The lack of text or social media communication.

Everything, it all added up to one thing.

Ross' knees suddenly felt as weak as his injured shoulder.

He was looking at the ground now, and it took infinitely more energy to look up at Mrs. Hoffman. She couldn't hold it back anymore, silent tears ran down her own cheeks as she watched this student suffer the horror of realization. His own head was shaking, as if he could make it un-happen by denying it enough times. Someone was murmuring, over and over. To his surprise, Ross realized that it was his own voice.

"No, nononononono, that - no, it can't, no, no, no, nonono."

His hands started to shake.

This could not be happening.

Stepping towards him, Renae Hoffman reached out and tried to lend Ross whatever comfort she could, putting her hand on his good shoulder. Her eyes still ran but her voice had a kindness to it, authority which only her age could bring to him.

"Go home, Ross."

His own eyes were glassy, and he couldn't see anything anymore. He felt weak, inhibited. He kept on shaking his head. Refusing. He kept on muttering, his voice cracking after an innumerable number of "no's". This wasn't real. It wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.

Not here. Not to them.

Not to Richard.

Not to Kelly.

Not to Johnny.

Not to Wyatt.

Not to Forrest.

Not to Morgan.

Not to Charelle.

Not to Connor.

Not to Jackson.

Not to Alexander.

Not to Ned.










Not to Ariana.






Ariana.

Her face flashed through his mind, and Ross felt his legs give out from under him. Someone caught him, guided him down to the floor. He felt hollow. All he could see was Ariana's face. All he could think of was that face, and those four letters. Someone carefully embraced him. His voice ran out. His head still continued to shake. There were no platitudes.

No one told him that it was going to be all right, and he was glad.

It wasn't.

Nothing was going to be all right ever again.

---
[+] V7

B027 - Morgan Dragosavich: "Now come on, you have a flight to catch."
Status: DECEASED
V7: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17
Pregame: P1 - P2 - P3 - P4 - P5 - P6 - P7 - M1 - PPr1 - PPr2 - T1 - T2 - T3

B042 - Connor Lorenzen: "You— you're gonna have to live with this for— for a long time. A long time, and I hope you do, brother. Really."
Status: DECEASED
V7: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14
Pregame: P1 - P2 - P3 - P4 - P5 - P6 - M1 - M2 - Pr1 - PoPr1 - T1

B005 - Claudeson Bademosi: "May you see your Redeemer face to face and enjoy the vision of God forever."
Status: DECEASED
V7: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20
Pregame: P1 - P2 - P3 - P4 - P5 - P6 -M1 - VPS - T1

B062 - Jeff Greene: "Wait a minute, you're not Palom—"
Status: DECEASED (adopted from Blastinus)
V7: 9 - 10 - 11

G042 - Ariana Moretti: "You were always here."
Status: DECEASED
V7: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5
Pregame: P1 - P2 - P3 - P4 - P5 - P6 - M1 - M2 - M3 - T1 - T2 - T3
[+] Meanwhile...

V7 (2018):

Life; As It Happens

1: The Essay; June 2, 2015
2: The Pizza; June 6, 2015
3: The Leak; June 7, 2015
4: The Safe; June 4, 2018
5: The Call; September 19, 2015

6: Coda
7: The Secret; June 4, 2018
8: ???; June 9, 2018
9: ???; June 10, 2018
10: ???; June 10, 2018
11: ???; September 13, 2018


Ross Miller

1: Shatterday; June 9, 2018
2: I Wait on You Inside the Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea; July 13, 2018 - ongoing

3: ???
4: ???
5: ???

Pregame: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - M1 - M2 - SP - Snapchat

Carl Fredericks/Steven Lorenzen: The Needs of the Many

V6 (2015)
Mrs. Ritch: Sweet Billy
[+] The Past

The Creme de la Creme

V3: B007 - Keith Jackson: At the end of the road he's running, looking back to survey where he's been.
V1/3: B077 - Adam Dodd: You either die a hero, or live long enough to become the villain. The truth lies somewhere in between.
V1: B087 - Sidney Crosby: It's only cowardice if other people are around to tell you so. Otherwise, it's survival.
V1: B092 - Eddie Serjeantson: Fully in charge, but not much of an arborist.
V2: B013 - Andrew Ponikarovsky: Probably could have used a proper license and a driving lesson.
V1: G005 - Amanda Jones: A breath of fresh air, and in the end, that was all it took.
V3: B099 - John Sheppard: Went out with a bang.
V3: B122 - Ryan Atwell: Couldn't help but write a "Dear John" letter.
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