The attack at the school became impossible to ignore. Within hours, social media exploded with pictures and videos of the bloody hallway and the glowing core Ethan had extracted. News vans swarmed the school by morning, their cameras pointed at terrified parents and bewildered students.
The school board called an emergency meeting the next day, attended by angry parents, local reporters, and community leaders. The atmosphere in the room was electric with outrage and fear.
Principal McCall stood before the crowd, her face drawn and pale. The board members flanked her, whispering furiously among themselves.
“Explain this!” a parent shouted, holding up a tablet playing the viral video of the raccoon attack. The shaky footage showed Ethan plunging a jagged piece of metal into the creature’s side before extracting the glowing core.
“What is that thing?!” the parent continued, their voice trembling. “Why was a student fighting it instead of school staff?”
McCall cleared her throat, gripping the podium. “I assure you, we are working closely with local authorities to investigate this incident and ensure the safety of our students.”
“Investigate?” another parent shouted. “My son came home with claw marks on his arms! What’s being done now?”
“You should shut the school down!” another parent yelled. “Whatever that thing was, it could happen again!”
The crowd erupted into chaos. Some parents demanded immediate action, while others denied the seriousness of the situation, suggesting it was all a prank or hoax. The board members exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unprepared for the magnitude of the backlash.
“Ethan Graves,” one board member finally said, their voice sharp, “you were directly involved in this event. Can you explain what happened?”
Ethan stood from the back of the room, the crowd parting as he made his way to the front. Dakota followed close behind, his imposing presence quieting some of the muttering.
Ethan’s voice was steady, but his words were laced with frustration. “A mutated animal attacked a student. I stopped it. That’s all.”
“Mutated?” the board member repeated, narrowing their eyes. “Do you have proof?”
Ethan pulled out his phone and played a clear video of the glowing core pulsing in his bloodied hand. Gasps rippled through the room.
“This,” he said, holding up the phone, “is what’s causing it. And it’s not the first time. These things are everywhere—animals, birds, even fish. You can pretend this was a one-time thing, but it’s not. And if you keep ignoring it, more people are going to die.”
The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Even the most skeptical faces turned grim as they exchanged uneasy glances.
Unable to ignore the mounting pressure, the school board announced sweeping changes. Armed security guards were hired, metal detectors installed, and students were subjected to daily bag checks. Rumors spread of plans to shut down the school entirely, but nothing was confirmed.
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However, none of it felt like enough to Ethan.
“They’re just putting Band-Aids on bullet wounds,” he told Dakota after the meeting. “They don’t understand what’s really coming.”
“They will,” Dakota said grimly. “Sooner or later.”
The town was in chaos. Reports of strange animal attacks were surfacing daily: glowing-eyed birds dive-bombing hikers, feral dogs attacking livestock, and even a local fisherman being dragged underwater by something massive. Social media was rife with blurry photos and panicked posts, fueling rumors of government experiments, alien invasions, and worse.
Some parents began pulling their kids from school, while others barricaded their homes, refusing to leave after dark. Survivalist forums were flooded with new users, locals desperate for tips on self-defense and emergency preparation.
At the grocery store, Dakota overheard two customers whispering near the canned goods aisle.
“You think it’s connected to that glowing thing they found at the school?”“Of course it is. My cousin said he saw a raccoon like that in his backyard last week. Killed his dog.”“Jesus... what’s going on?”
Dakota grabbed extra supplies without a word, his jaw tight.
The fallout gave Ethan and his group the push they needed to escalate their efforts. Every moment spent idle felt like wasted time, and they threw themselves into preparation with relentless focus.
The garage became their fortress. Mason installed reinforced locks on the doors, sealing every crack and weak point with heavy metal plating scavenged from a junkyard. The motion sensor system Mason built now connected to a loud alarm and flashing lights, capable of alerting them to any intrusion.
Ethan tested the system one night by tossing a rock near the sensor. The alarm blared instantly, startling everyone.
“Effective,” Ethan said, smirking at Mason’s triumphant grin.
Kyle muttered, “You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”
Dakota used his welding skills to modify their weapons. Kyle’s bat was fitted with a weighted core and embedded steel spikes, while Mason’s wrench was sharpened on one end, turning it into a deadly pickaxe-like tool.
Ethan experimented with weaponizing the glowing cores. After studying their energy output, Mason helped rig one into a crude grenade. They tested it in an abandoned lot, the explosion sending a wave of heat and light that scorched the ground black.
“Not bad,” Dakota said, inspecting the damage. “But let’s not carry those in our pockets.”
Ethan pushed the group harder during training. They practiced fighting multiple opponents at once, simulating swarm attacks. Ethan used his future knowledge to teach them how to exploit weak points and adapt under pressure.
One drill involved Mason and Kyle fending off mock ambushes while Ethan and Dakota played attackers. By the end of the session, everyone was bruised and bloody but better prepared.
“You’re hitting harder,” Ethan told Mason after one sparring session.
Mason grinned through a split lip. “Guess I’m learning from the best.”
The group began scouting abandoned locations around town, searching for supplies and potential safe zones. On one trip to an old factory, they encountered a pack of mutated rats. The fight was savage.
The rats swarmed, their glowing eyes cutting through the dim light. One lunged at Mason, its teeth sinking into his arm before he smashed its head against a wall, splattering blood and brain matter. Kyle swung his bat like a madman, crushing two rats with a single swing, their bodies breaking with wet crunches.
Ethan drove his baton through the largest rat’s skull, the metal cracking bone as it sank deep. Blood sprayed across his face, but he didn’t flinch. When the last rat fell, he extracted its core and pocketed it, his expression grim.
“This is just the start,” he said, his voice cold. “We need to move faster.”
Despite their efforts, the danger was growing. Reports of glowing-eyed animals were now joined by whispers of people behaving strangely—aggression, strength, and erratic movements that couldn’t be explained.
“We’re running out of time,” Ethan said during a meeting in the garage. “The mutations aren’t just spreading. They’re evolving.”
“We can’t save everyone,” Mason said quietly. “But we can save ourselves.”
Ethan nodded. “And when the time comes, we’ll be ready.”
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Time Until Cataclysm: 218 Days, 10 Hours, 22 Minutes.