"Dez."

She isn't sure if the lack of a response from the redhead had to do with him not hearing her, or him ignoring her. The latter isn't all that usual for him. Sure, he'd forget things and would often not fully pay attention. Ignore her on purpose? Something must be up, she decides.

"Dez!" the curly-haired young woman repeats with more vehemence, reaching her hand across the table and pulling his plate of fries towards her. The freckled boy refuses to look up at her, his eyes trained on his hands fiddling with a loose string at the hem of his shirt. She takes a bite out of one of his fries.

Had the breakup been that bad? Carrie was his first love, sure. But it's been three months. And it's not like he did not see it coming. Dez never seemed the type who would be able to manage a long-distance relationship, what with how physically affectionate he is. He and Carrie had called off the relationship mutually, realizing that it wasn't working. He'd been taking it hard ever since, and gradually worse by the day.

Trish expels a heavy sigh. Even she has to admit that she misses the loud and obnoxious Dez she has come to relatively put up with.

"Dez, come on. You're making Austin and Ally feel bad. They feel like they can't even act like a couple around you now. And you're their number one supporter!" she tries to reason with him. "I get that you're upset. It's fine that you still love her. You remember that advice you gave me a while back? 'If you love something, set it free?' Dez – are you even listening to me?!"

He mutters something just barely audible. Trish squints her eyes, as if it would somehow help her understand him better. "What was that?" she asks, picking up another one of his fries.

"I said I want my fries back." He pulls the plate back to his side. "Why didn't you just order your own, Trish?"

"You'd be paying for it anyway, and you know it."

"Whatever. When are Austin and Ally getting back from their date?" His impatience with her is clear. It had always been the other way around. He annoys her. She gets irritated by him. This? This, she's not used to. She doesn't enjoy it, feeling like a nuisance to him. They used to get along – at least half the time. That never changed the fact that they are friends. Best friends, even. Although, perhaps she had expected too much if he's willing to throw all that away over a girl.

Not that she has an issue with Carrie. In fact, the two girls had become pretty close. Sure, Carrie may not have been the most scholarly conversationalist, but they had gotten along alright. She seemed perfect enough for Dez; they certainly had plenty in common. Although Trish had worried that their similar personalities and quirks, combined together, may end them in the hospital. They needed to be kept in check.

"Ally said they'd be back around seven. We've still got…" she trails off as she pulls out her phone to check the time. "Another hour or so." Austin and Ally had gone off to explore the beautiful city of Orlando, where the four of them decided to spend their vacation. Sight-seeing mostly; it really didn't matter what the couple did, though – they just enjoyed each other's company. With their particularly busy lives, balancing career with college classes, they hardly ever get chances to spend time together. They figured they deserved a day to themselves on this vacation.

Trish and Dez stayed back at the hotel today, figuring that they needed a day of relaxation after spending week experiencing the Walt Disney World resort. The two leave the hotel eventually, however, to grab some food at a nearby burger joint.

"Great," Dez huffs, sinking back in his chair. He looks off to the side, watching a smiling couple walk by – their hands clasped together. Trish frowns, her eyes still focusing on her friend across the table.

"Dez, is this about Carrie? Or are you upset with me?" She couldn't help asking. It's not like their friendship is meaningless to her – as much as she might lead people to believe so at times. She wishes more than anything that they would be able to hang out like they used to; their usual banter, the laughs, the antics…Even the snide remarks they threw at each other. Even when he annoyed her beyond comprehension. The good old days.

Perhaps those days will simply end up being fond memories? Nostalgia's the devil.

"What?" The redhead turns to face her, his voice and face softening as he notices the genuinely melancholy nature of her countenance. "I'm not upset with you, Trish," he consoles her. He's been oblivious to how his actions and attitude had been affecting his friends. Guilt weighing down on him, he pushes the fries back over to her across the table. "Here, I'm not hungry."

"Then why are you being like this? What did I do? What did Austin and Ally do? We get that you're hurting – and we've been nothing, but supportive. What's going on with you?" she demands, aggression in her tone rising. Dez shrinks in his chair.

"I didn't realize I was being such a burden to you guys…" He rests his head on the table, proceeding to wallow in remorse and misery. Now she'd done it. Needing to appease him, she moves over to the chair by his side. She rubs his back, attempting to comfort him to the best of her abilities. It's not exactly something she's an expert at.

"You're not a burden, Dez. We just want to help you feel better, but you need to work with us here," she assures to him softly – her belligerence fading away. He lifts his heavy head off the table, sitting up straight in his seat, eyes fixated on his hands again.

"It's not just Carrie, but that is part of it. I just…It feels like I'm stuck. That I'm not going anywhere. I mean, I've been trying to get a foothold in the film industry, but I'm just not getting a break, y'know? Even after all the music videos I directed and edited for Austin, all I'm getting is a few low-grade freelance jobs here and there. And it's really sucky, gimmicky stuff, too." Shaking his head, he takes in a large quantity of air and exhales slowly before continuing on. "And ending my relationship with Carrie…The one thing that gave me hope…It just broke me, I guess. Finding a girl like her, a girl I really liked who actually liked me back – that's not exactly easy to come by for me. And you know that."

Trish is at a loss for words, knowing that whatever advice she could possibly give him, Austin probably already gave him. She decides on the next best thing, something she's good at.

"C'mon, you doof. I'm sure some girl will be dumb enough to wanna date you," she lightly punches his arm. "Now let's get outta here and go to the arcade or something. I'm sure that Zaliens Attack game and all that sugary soda you're probably going to down within seconds will distract you plenty." Dez nods in agreement, some of the heaviness shifting off of him. Trish hops up onto her feet, grabs his hand and forcefully pulls him up onto his, then proceeds to drag him away.

"Wait! My fries!" he proclaims, reaching one hand out towards them as he's being pulled in the opposite direction.

"Forget it, Freckles, we can buy more later."

"But–" Before another word could escape his lips, the call of what seems to be an emergency siren blares across the area. Trish releases Dez's hand to cover her ears, the sound much too loud for even her to handle. Dez mirrors her actions, watching as everyone around them runs about frantically, screaming. Just what was going on?

A loud boom echoes over the blaring alarm – distant, yet tremendous. Dez finds himself knocked down onto his hands and knees as folks rush by them, pushing and shoving.

Trish, hating the helplessness overcoming her at this moment, starts to force people out of her way. No one shoves Trish de la Rosa around. Between the flurry of bodies surrounding her, she spots something mighty peculiar in the distance for approximately two seconds. A figure of what seems to be a man, staggering as he walks. Why isn't he running like the rest of them? Is he injured? An unsettling feeling falls into the pit of her stomach. The horde of people gets denser and she loses sight of the man.

"Trish!" Dez cries out to her as he loses her in the crowd.

"I'm right here!" she replies from behind him. She grasps onto his arm, taking a seat next to him, trying to avoid getting trampled by the frenzied swarm about them. He pulls her closer towards him to get her out of the way of the rampage.

"What's going on?!" he attempts to shout over the alarm and the screams.

"Whatever it is, we should probably get outta here, like they all are!" she responds, just barely hearing him. As the crowd disperses and leaves them more room to move about, the two friends get back onto their feet and scope out the perimeter. The lurching man Trish had spotted earlier is now nowhere to be seen.

On the move now, they look about themselves, hoping to find some sort of refuge. Avoiding the masses of people is less of an issue now, as most of them had moved on ahead – though many cars stray behind, stuck in traffic. The drivers honk incessantly, trying to clear the area.

Trish and Dez proceed towards the nearest secure-looking building. This nearby club proves to appear a sound-enough safehouse, and with the bouncer nowhere in sight, they try their way in.

The sign posted above the entrance of The Spot reads "closed". Dez acts quickly, fishing a bobby pin out of Trish's hair, receiving a glare from her. He dismisses her anger as he's more afraid for their safety now than he is of her. He puts his ear close to the lock as he maneuvers the pin around within the keyhole.

Click.

They sneak inside, shutting the doors behind them. Much to their surprise, no alarms go off. At least, not ones they can hear. It's Trish's turn to think on her feet.

"What are you doing?" Dez questions the girl as he watches her barricade the double-doors with whatever large pieces of movable furniture she can find.

"Shut up and hand me those chains over there!" she orders him. He complies, struggling to lift the heavy set of chains as he brings them over to her. Upon receiving them, Trish pulls them through the loops of the door handles, and then clicks the lock, connected to the chains, closed.

"Trish, that lock looks tricky - I don't think I can pick that one. And we don't have a key for it, either. What if we can't get out?"

"I'm more concerned with what can get in if we don't," she admits as she checks the lock. The image of the limping figure relentlessly dominates her mind. Dez raises a brow at her.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It appears that there's been an incident," states the voice over the AM radio station. "Our experts are looking into what could possibly be a nuclear attack. We are still unsure of the number of casualties. With everyone frantically trying to escape the vicinity, the military is having a difficult time getting through."

"Military?" Dez gulps. "Are we under attack?"

"Shush! I'm trying to hear." Trish clamps her hand over the boy's mouth.

"Wait, hold on! I've received a statement informing us that this was no attack, rather a possible experiment gone wrong," the reporter announces. Trish drops her hand from Dez's mouth once he's quieted down. "A local biological research lab has been blown apart. They're positive that the root of the explosion came from within the premises. There's a possible danger of something having escaped the lab, but we are not quite sure what – be – I – even…" Static.

"What the–?" Trish shakes her myTab, as if that would somehow fix the problem. "What happened?"

"There must be some interference," Dez infers, taking the myTab from her. He checks the settings. "Well, you're still connected to the Wi-Fi, so – wait, never mind…You just got disconnected."

"What the heck is happening?" She sinks in the seat of the sofa, trying to take it all in. She pulls out her phone and taps Ally's number on her list of recent calls. She hears the dial tone, running all the way until she hears Ally's voice. Alas, just her voicemail message. She tries again. No answer.

After a few more failed tries, and some attempted calls to Austin, her family, and various other contacts, she groans in frustration, tossing her phone aside. Dez's phone had already died earlier that day, so it'd prove useless.

"Damn it," she curses. "No luck. I don' know if the phone lines are dead or not; I'm still hearing the dial tone." A bang on the wall from the outside throws the two off guard. Trish flinches and Dez jumps onto her lap in fear, clinging onto her for safety.

They can hear the screaming and what appears to be rioting outside. Endless. As if on a loop.

"Get offa me, whack-a-doodle!" Trish rebukes him as she dumps him off of her lap. Dez jumps back onto the sofa beside her, pulling his knees in and wrapping his arms around them.

"I'm scared, Trish," he whimpers, rocking slightly to calm himself down.

"I'm sure it'll all be over soon. Pull yourself together, Dez!" she snaps at him. She scans the dark room, squinting her eyes in order to inspect it. They weren't able to get any of the lights to turn on, so their sole sources of illumination were the dying myTab, her phone – which will die eventually – and the soon-to-fade daylight coming in from the few windows near the high ceiling of the building. "There's gotta be supplies in here."

"How long do you think we're gonna be stuck here?" he inquires, letting go of his legs and letting his feet fall back onto the ground.

"Like I said, probably not long. But we should stock up – just in case." She pushes herself up off of her seat and commences scavenging through the club. Dez follows suit, pulling Trish's phone out of her pocket and using its flashlight feature to assist them.

The roaring sounds of the herds of people outside the building continue for a while as they scavenge. It isn't until it reaches dead silence that the duo really begin to fret.