Joe slid steadily into his dream, and immediately felt the recognition sweep over him. They were back in their high school years yet again, but this time actually sitting in class. Joe shot a quick glance around him and indeed, he could see the room was full, and all the kids sulked tiredly at their desks. Truly it was high school, down to the inane details. He could even recognize many of the students around him, old classmates, though they were dull and lifeless, more like props than anything else. Their teacher, Mr. Roberts, also was there, and so Joe could ascertain that it was his junior year U.S. history class. Mr. Roberts was in mid-lecture—a robotic, unceasing monotone, more tedious than he deserved. Joe sat at his usual desk, and best of all—Jennifer was in hers. It was just one row over, and a few desks up.

The relief poured in ever more so, as Joe realized he had indeed reached her first.

You can’t mess with me here, Eddie, Joe thought proudly to himself. This is my place. My sanctuary.

Almost immediately, Jennifer did just what he knew she would—she looked back, as though it were just happenstance, but really it was to catch his eye. That she’d catch it was always a guarantee, and so was the smile she’d flash back. She often did this casual look-back at him during class, Joe recalled, probably without even thinking about it, and it always made his day. It’s probably why he’d chosen their history class to revisit in this manner. It stuck out to him for that reason alone. It certainly wasn’t for Mr. Roberts’s droning lectures, anyway.

Jennifer had her hair back in a ponytail, and below the jean jacket she had on she wore a loose, pleated skirt. She also had tiger paws painted on her cheeks, and so Joe realized it must have been game day. He confirmed this with a quick check of his own clothes, and saw that he wore jeans and his football jersey, which the players always did on game day.

The moment had passed, and Jennifer faced forward again. To the backdrop of the dull lecture, Joe felt his thoughts sour rather quickly. Something was off… though he couldn’t quite place it yet. As though sensing Joe’s insecurity, the teacher’s glance fell upon him. His eyes were lazy and faraway, like a drunken man. His dull monotone carried on, but it was finally interrupted when Jennifer raised her hand.

“Excuse me, Mr. Roberts, may I go use the restroom?” she asked.

Mr. Roberts dully granted approval as Jennifer beamed another smile back at him. Her look was a bit mischievous, and a clear sign for Joe to follow her. They had occasionally skipped school together, to have lunch somewhere else, or just to go do something fun. It seemed she had that in mind now, but as she got up Joe felt his mind pleading for her not to go. Because he felt it again—that something was off. Something wasn’t right.

Joe already had his hand raised so he could ask the teacher to also be excused. Meanwhile Jennifer moved swiftly across the classroom, and before passing through the door she smiled back at Joe again. Just before she vanished into the hallway, Joe noticed something, and it felt like someone poured a bucket of ice water on his face.

She wore her jean jacket unzipped, and beneath it Joe caught a brief glimpse at her outfit underneath it. She wore a cheerleader uniform—the pleated skirt was part of it, actually. The uniform was accurate, just as he remembered, with his school colors appropriately represented. And it was game day, after all, so it made sense the cheerleaders would be in their uniforms, just as the football players wore their jerseys. It was a school tradition on game days. There was just one problem.

Jennifer never was a cheerleader.

“Yes, Joe? Earth to Joe?” Mr. Roberts said, and the entire class snickered. It struck him like another ice bucket to his face to see everyone in the class—every single person—looking back at him, sending him mean glares. They weren’t dull or lifeless, not anymore.

Goddamn it, he thought, getting quickly to his feet.

Jennifer was already out of sight, having disappeared into the hallway. Joe dashed after her.

Mr. Roberts called after him, albeit still in his lifeless monotone. “Joe. Sit the fuck down,” he said, staring at him with dead eyes.

There was a terrible, deflating feeling, striking deep in the pit of his stomach, but Joe didn’t let it slow him down as he flew right past the teacher, not bothering to acknowledge him or his unsettling words. He burst through the door and ran out into the hallway. He had a momentary respite from his concern, as he glimpsed her, but she was already far down the hall. She smiled playfully and then ran off. It was like she knew they were skipping school and she enjoyed the rush of adrenaline it gave. Clearly she didn’t suspect anything yet, not like he did. She didn’t yet know there was some kind of virus in the system. Something invasive, something threatening.

“Jennifer, wait!” he called after her, his voice already desperate.

But she had rounded a corner and was out of sight.

Joe sprinted after her, past classrooms that were empty and unused. Within seconds he turned that same corner. But then he stopped quickly.

The hallway was empty. He heard thunder somewhere in the distance, and its rumbling sounded like a massive giant clearing its throat.

“Jennifer? Come out. Seriously. I don’t like what’s happening.” The alarm he heard in his voice made him even more unsettled.

He prayed she’d step out from one of the empty classrooms, or wherever she was hidden. But she didn’t.

Joe ran down the hallway to turn the next corner, peering within the rooms that he passed, each time praying she’d be in one of them.

But they were all empty—the school was empty.

He rounded another corner, and another, the desperation within him turning into outright panic. Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

Straight ahead, at the opposite end of the long hall, stood Eddie Morrow, far enough away to be just a tiny dot, an awful blip. The lines of perspective of the hallway—the walls, floors, and ceilings, everything—all pointed straight at him. This was not a coincidence. It was a maddening effect. It painted him as the architect, as the god. As Joe looked on, he watched all those lines of perspective—meaning the actual hallway—bend and warp with each breath Eddie took. Then Eddie grinned maniacally and sent fraying shockwaves down those lines, shuddering the very building itself. The structure bent and warped in such unnatural ways, and Joe was overcome with a feeling like he was tripping on acid and it was not going well. Fittingly, the world around them grew dark, like the sun passed behind heavy clouds. He heard thunder again, but stronger this time—so strong that he felt the walls of the school actually shake around him.

Eddie’s long hair hung in his face and his eyes gleamed with treachery.