"What kind of question is that?" Lydia scoffed with a teasing smirk.
"Are you okay?" Caitlyn asked gently.
Liam exhaled. "Actually, I take that back. That question was for Lydia specifically. The two of you don't need to answer if you don't want to."
"Why me?" Lydia raised an eyebrow.
"Just curious."
"Well, your curiosity is creepy. You realize that, right?" she muttered, straw hanging from her lips.
"Liam, are you sure you're okay?" Caitlyn pressed, her eyes full of concern.
"I'm fine. Just wanted to play a game. Is that too much to ask?"
Jason leaned in slightly. "Not at all. Just... unexpected. Especially from someone like you, right after what happened with Tyler."
Liam nodded. "Yeah. Sorry if it's weird."
"It's not!" Caitlyn chimed in quickly, eager to support him. "I'll play. Zombie apocalypse or sea monsters, right? Easy. I hate the ocean—it creeps me out. So, I'm going with zombies."
Liam gave a quiet nod. He didn't really need her answer, but it wasn't damaging to his plans so he didn't mind.
"What about you, Lydia? The question is for you after all." Caitlyn pushed.
"I don't know... Zombies, I guess."
"I see." Liam stood. "I'm gonna go order that coffee now."
"Wait," Caitlyn said, catching his wrist. She let go just as quickly, not wanting to overstep. "What would you choose?"
"Same as you two," Liam answered and walked toward the counter.
"You're all insane," Jason muttered.
"What do you mean?" Caitlyn asked.
Jason perked up subtly—this was attention he wasn't used to—but tried to keep his cool. "I'd pick the sea monsters."
Lydia rolled her eyes. "That's what you meant? I thought you were going to criticize this dumb game or something."
Jason adjusted his glasses. "I just think it's smarter. Sea monsters have to get on the ship to reach you. You've got the high ground. And since it's a pirate ship, there should be weapons."
"Okay, smartass," Lydia quipped, half mocking, half serious.
Jason smiled faintly, misinterpreting it as sarcasm instead of a jab.
—
Still in her bedroom, Samantha refreshed the same strange site from before. This time—it loaded.
"…What the…"
Her answer was already submitted. A large checkmark appeared over the red box—the zombie option. A new button had also appeared in the top left corner: '<'. She clicked it. The question changed to yesterday's: rabid hounds vs. venomous snakes—though the wording had slightly shifted.
Elsewhere, Liam sat in a corner booth at a quiet diner, staring at the same site on his phone.
This time, the choices displayed percentages—like a typical Would You Rather site.
[Red: Rabid Hounds – 36%]
[Blue: Venomous Snakes – 64%]
Beneath that, a line of text read: [Blue team wins!]
"'Wins'? Just because more people picked it?" Samantha asked aloud.
"Wins…" Liam muttered to himself. "Could that mean… more survivors?"
She thought back. "There were over a hundred people in the mall at the start. Only thirty made it into the kitchenware store…"
"I can see 64% bring the total survivors on the island..." So did he.
Both eventually came to the same chilling conclusion: "Do the percentages represent survivor rates?"
—
It was nearly 10 p.m. Samantha refused to sleep. Her digital clock read [21:51]. Last time, she woke up in the game after falling asleep. So maybe… if she didn't sleep?
She left her room and went downstairs to be with her mom.
"Oh… Sam." Heather looked up, eyes sunken. She was still slouched at the dining table. "I forgot to make dinner…"
"It's okay, Mom."
"I'll order something. Pizza?"
"I can't eat either."
Heather dropped her head into her arms. "You know… It's because of this that I fell in love with your dad."
"…What?"
Heather sat up, running a hand through her messy hair. "His fearlessness. His selflessness…" She smiled through tears. "You said he helped people. Led them out of danger. That's him. Cops might not believe it, but I do. I know Nick when I hear about him."
Samantha stepped behind her and gently wrapped her arms around her mother, resting her head against hers.
—
Liam walked the city, wearing his college varsity jacket over a thin shirt. It was cold, but he didn't notice. He wasn't looking up at the stars, or down at the sidewalk. He watched every face in the crowd, searching for her.
He didn't know what it was. But for some reason, he really really wanted to see her, now more than ever.
He'd started walking at 7:30 p.m. It was almost 10 now. He kept walking—block after block, street after street, in a straight line.
The digital watch on his wrist blinked: [22:00].
—
Back home, Heather stood up slowly.
"Mom?" Samantha said quietly. Something was… off.
It was subtle—the shift in her posture, her stillness, the way she turned her head. It was just like earlier, when Heather had asked the Would You Rather question. This… wasn't her.
"Mom? Are you okay?"
Heather turned around. Her face was the same—tired, emotional, mournful—but Samantha knew. The body was the same. The person inside wasn't.
Heather lunged. In one motion, she slammed Samantha against the wall, forearm pressed hard against her throat.
"—Argh! Mom?!" Samantha gasped, struggling.
Heather's strength was unnatural—inhuman. Samantha's feet left the ground. She kicked wildly, clawed at her mother's arm, but nothing worked.
Her vision blurred. Her consciousness faded.
—
Across the city, Liam stepped into the street.
**BEEPBEEPBEEP!**
Blinding headlights.
A loud screech.
Then—impact.
—
Back at home, Samantha passed out. The moment her body went limp, Heather released her and let her collapse to the floor.
Then, without a word, without a hint of recognition, Heather turned and calmly walked back to her bedroom—like nothing had happened at all.