The remote shook in his hands as he started at the television, the sounds of screams and sirens rising more and more as he pressed his finger firmly onto the Volume button until it didn’t go up any further. Kathy Krinkler and Marton Deligino, newscasters for Action 11 were sitting firm as they talked back LIVE with Diana McGrimp who, at this very moment, was downtown to deliver her late-breaking coverage on the hour, by the hour.

“…We still have no information on how many pileups there are the moment, but the downtown area has been closed down as officials organize traffic and clear roads to allow ambulances and other vehicles into the area.” Diana held her earpiece, looking finely pressed and calm as chaos ensued behind her. To help viewers, a map was brought up to the screen to show what roads were cleared, while a large portion of the roads were colored in red with jagged explosion icons to symbolize crashes and other major roadblocks.

Ladon looked at the part of town Crystal Academy was located and the road his mother took, then at the area where his father and sister lived. All of it was in red.

Kathy Krinkler returned to the screen, her voice calm, clear, yet maintaining a professionalism to put on a plastic visage of concern and urgency to ask, once again, Are there any updates as to the reason behind this major epidemic. Not nearly an hour and it was now a epidemic, but it might as well have been.

A scrolling bar at the bottom of the screen kept him up to date on the fact that no one knew anything or wasn’t releasing any information at the time. The one thing that was certain was that a great yet unknown percentage of people that had mysteriously just dropped what they had been doing and fallen asleep. In what was called a “coma-like state”, hospitals were being bombarded with new arrivals, some affected with this bizarre condition while others came in as victims of what sleeping suddenly on the road or handle heavy machinery could do. Car crashes, subways using emergency breaks to stop leaving groups in need of release, not to mention the worry of people, especially the elderly, yet to be discovered unconscious were all chief concerned on the screen. A mother came on, her head bleeding and holding a thin focus to the world around her as she exhausted herself in talking to the camera. Her hand was on her head, and she kept looking around, unable to believe what was going on. She told the news about how she barely missed getting hit by a motorcycle that crashed beside her on the sidewalk now needed to get home through the mess to see if her children were all right.

The shaking remote traveled up to his shaking hand, shoulders, to his entire body. He wasn’t paralyzed with fear, shivering as badly as a person right about to go into hypothermia and feeling just as cold. He had no idea what was going on, but he had a horrible sense that it had something to do with the other world he was involved in, but why now?

He had been preparing dinner and turned on the television because it was quiet and he needed noise. Alone as always, he was doing his part by making dinner and had a pot of water going on the range. It was routine. Most of the time, he made dinner promptly around 7:30pm for his mother’s arrival at 8. That morning, his mother had said she would be home early at 6, a rare treat. Ever since his talk with Mr. Nguyen, the school counselor, he was trying more and more to consider his mother and the effects his patrolling might have on her if he slipped up by showing a bruise from battles. It meant he was now limited to sneaking out of the house and covering up his mistakes with concealer, but also being genuine in being more nice than he usually was. He planned to be more attentive during dinner that night, and continue his fake act of being a healthy, carefree teenager with normal problems.

If he decided not to watch TV right now, he wouldn’t have noticed what was happening. There were sirens in the distances, but this was Destiny City. There were always sirens of some sort in the distance. Now he had a clue as to where they were going, and his breathing went tight, making him need to lean back and flop on the couch, his apron tight around his chest. Too tight that he tore it off and threw it on the table.

Who did he call? Was everyone okay? Should he worry? Yes, he should. His mother, father, sister, friends…he…he should call people!! He should see if they were okay. Who first? Who was at the top of his priorities? Did he want to call? Did he WANT to know?

He pulled out his cellphone and opened his address book, scrolling through the short list of names. The pot of water answered for him as it steamed. Mom first. The phone rang, and he listened. It rang. It rang. Ladon started to rock, his legs tapping the carpet as he brought his hand to his mouth. “PleaseBeOkayPleaseBeOkayPleaseOkay.”

“Sorry, I’m not at the phone right now..” Straight to Voicemail.

He closed the phone, and then looked around the room. The TV continued to cycle through its useless coverage, breaking off into commercials. A cheery jingle for laundry detergent filled the house, each room empty, Ladon the sole occupant.

What did he do now? Quickly, ideas came to him to get up and rush to the hospital, but the news already said it was flooded with new arrivals. How would he find her? How did he even know she was there? Was it right to say she might have left her phone in her purse and was sipping coffee in her office, held late as she usually was and unaware of what was happening downtown just as he had been only moments ago? Hope fought with a sense of responsibility to be an adult and realistic, but as far as imagining the worse, crushed bodies and glazed eyes of his own mother, eyes that critiqued him each morning before going to school, he didn’t know what else to do. He was 16! While he could do the chores, make dinner each night, and have his homework done before going to sleep, he wasn’t ready for this.

His breaths were sharp as he listened to the house, held the phone in his heavy arms, before he leaned forward and opened the phone. He’d call his dad; he’d know what to do. He should be home with his sister. He could check up on them.

Ladon dialed, and listened to it ring, and ring, and ring.

Voicemail.

He wasted no time in calling his sister….but he didn’t get her either.

He didn’t get anyone, and lastly, worriedly, he called Tate’s phone.

She didn’t pick up.

Closing his cellphone, he sat there, before the TV and alone on the couch.

The water was boiling over, and he got up slowly to turn it off. Standing before the stove, he looked at the clock, the phone still in his hands, and then turned. Turning to the door, he shoved on his shoes and grabbed his coat. He’d get to his dad’s on his bike. He couldn’t be here alone. He had to do something. He had to get moving.

All the while, he kept saying they were fine. They had to be fine. It was too hard to imagine what he’d do if they weren’t.