Scene 14
6:00 PM - Dinner time
Glenn stood in the middle of the line, his gray uniform already feeling like a second skin he couldn't shed. The cafeteria was a cavernous space, all white tiles and metal tables bolted to the floor. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the faces of the boys shuffling forward with their trays.
The noise was overwhelming, metal scraping metal, the slop of food being dumped onto sectioned trays, dozens of conversations bleeding together into an incomprehensible roar. Glenn's eyes darted from face to face, scanning every cluster of gray-uniformed figures at the tables.
"Damnit... where are you?"
He craned his neck, looking past the serving line toward the far side of the cafeteria. In previous redos, there was always a mix of boys and girls, an issue considering most times as yhe girls would end up pregnant, rarely ever consensual. Here, now, he saw only boys. Rows and rows of them, 'a damn prison.'
"Could they be eating at different times? Maybe they in another Different building entirely?"
A tap on his shoulder made him spin around.
Standing behind him was Jacob Hathaway, the lean boy with round-frame glasses. His face held a small, nervous smile, and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his uniform shirt.
"Huh–Huh heeey," Jacob stammered, his voice barely audible over the cafeteria din. "I'm J-Jacob. I was standing next to you in the rain."
Glenn's disappointment was immediate and crushing. For a split second, he'd hoped, really hoped, it would be Gwen, somehow having found a way to reach him already.
Instead, it was this kid. This nervous, stuttering, low-self-esteem nerd...
"Oh yeah, I remember you," Glenn said, forcing his voice to sound normal. "I'm Glenn."
"Jacob."
They shook hands. Jacob's grip was weak, clammy.
Glenn was about to turn back around when something clicked in his mind. He froze, his hand still loosely holding Jacob's.
"Wait..."
In almost every redo, every single one, Jacob had never stuttered. He'd been quiet, sure, but composed. Precise. He'd had this calculated way of speaking, like every word was measured. And he'd never been "nervous," atleast... not like this.
"Y-you okay?" Jacob asked, tilting his head. His glasses slipped slightly down his nose.
"Yeah, " Glenn said quickly, releasing his hand. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Before he could say anything else—
"Keep it moving!"
The shout came from behind Jacob. Glenn looked past him to see Randall Patts, six kids back in line, his broad frame tense with irritation. The red bandana was gone, confiscated, but his presence still commanded attention.
"Causing a fucking traffic!" Randall yelled, his voice cutting through the noise. "You can kiss your boyfriend elsewhere!"
Glenn's jaw tightened. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words died in his throat.
Because in front of Randall, just two people ahead in the line, was Seth Rowans.
Seth's shoulders went rigid. His jaw clenched. His brow twitched.
Then, without warning, Seth's elbow shot backward, hard, smashing directly into Randall's nose.
CRACK.
"AAAH! What the fuck, man?!" Randall's hands flew to his face, blood already gushing between his fingers.
Seth spun around, his face twisted in rage. "Oh, I'm sorry!" he snarled. "I thought you were a fly with all that *noise* RIGHT in my ear!"
His left fist followed immediately, a brutal hook that caught Randall square in the jaw and sent him crashing to the floor.
The cafeteria erupted.
Boys surged forward, forming a tight circle around the two of them. Shouts filled the air:
"Kick his ass!"
"Fuck him up!"
The energy was electric, vicious, feeding on itself.
Seth didn't stop. He dropped onto Randall, his fists raining down in a blur of violence. Randall tried to cover his face, but Seth was relentless, each punch landing with a sickening thud.
Glenn stood frozen, his pulse hammering in his ears.
"This... This isn't right."
Randall and Seth ALWAYS fought, sure. But it was never on the first day. It was always later... third week, maybe fourth. And it always ends with either one beating the other.
Four guards burst through the crowd, stun batons drawn.
"Back up! NOW!" one of them barked.
The first guard lunged at Seth, pressing the baton to his ribs. The sharp crack of electricity split the air, and Seth convulsed, his body going rigid before collapsing off Randall.
But the guard didn't stop.
Two of them descended on Seth, batons swinging, striking him over and over even as he curled into a ball on the floor, his arms over his head, his voice a ragged scream of pain.
"Stop! I'm down! I'm— AAGH!"
The other two guards rushed to Randall.
He was on his back, his body jerking violently in uncontrolled spasms. Foam, pink-tinged with blood—bubbled from his mouth. His eyes had rolled back, showing only whites.
"Shit, he's seizing!" one of the guards shouted, dropping to his knees beside Randall. "Get Dr. West! Now!"
The crowd went silent.
The cheers died. The shouts faded. All that remained was the wet, choking sound of Randall's convulsions and Seth's broken sobbing on the floor.
Glenn stood motionless, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"This has never happened."
Randall had fought Seth dozens of times across all fourteen redos. He'd been beaten, bloodied, humiliated, but he'd never seized. Never gone into shock like this.
"Why is now any different?"
DING
The sound cut through everything. Clear. Sharp. Impossibly loud.
Glenn's head snapped up, his breath catching.
CLICK-CLACK
His heart lurched. He spun around, eyes scanning the cafeteria.
Everyone else was still staring at Randall, at Seth, at the guards scrambling. But Glenn couldn't focus on them anymore.
DING
The sound was distant, echoing, like it was coming from another room, or another time.
Jacob leaned closer, his voice small. "Puh—pretty s-scary, right, Glenn?"
Glenn didn't hear him.
DUUUUNG
His breathing quickened. His chest tightened. The walls of the cafeteria seemed to close in, the ceiling pressing down, the fluorescent lights blinding.
"What... what's happening?"
He looked around, frantic.
The crowd was still there, but they were too close now. Bodies pressed in from all sides, faces blurred, eyes wide and staring, mouths stretched into wide, eerie grins.
Glenn tried to move.
He pushed forward, or thought he did, but the bodies didn't part. They just multiplied, stacking up around him, suffocating.
"Come on... come on!" he screamed, shoving harder.
But the path ahead stretched endlessly, an infinite corridor of gray uniforms and grinning faces and 'that goddamn clock sound.'
DING. CLICK-CLACK. DING.
He was drowning.
Swallowed.
Glenn stopped, his legs giving out. He crouched down, knees pressed together, hands covering his face.
"W-what... what..." he gasped. "Please let me out. Please let me out."
DING.
A hand clamped onto his shoulder.
Hard.
Glenn jerked upright, stumbling backward, his arms flailing to catch himself—
—and suddenly, he was out.
The crowd was behind him now, small, distant, contained. The suffocating press of bodies was gone. The grinning faces were gone.
He was standing in the open space near the cafeteria entrance, his chest heaving, his uniform soaked with cold sweat.
He spun around.
And there she was.
Gwen.
Her green eyes, so much like his own, were wide with concern. Her short, dark blonde hair was slightly disheveled, and there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She wore the same gray uniform, but on her, it looked like armor.
She was holding his shoulder, steadying him.
"Glenn," she said, her voice low and urgent. "About damn time... We have an problem."