Braking loudly, startlingly, a public bus stops, and its doors hiss open.
"The mortician was whacked," Melissa said.
Jackson and Melissa step off the bus and onto the street.
"He was trippin' on formaldehyde," she continued.
Melissa starts up the street, but Jackson grabs her arm and steps back, assuring the bus moves on safely. He nods, as if saying "It's safe to go." His eyes search for anything potentially deadly.
"He said Death has a design. Even before he said that, I had been seeing patterns."
In a sarcastic tone, Melissa says, "As in flannels and plaids?"
Up ahead, scaffolds rise before a building being restored. Hammering and constuction work pound above. After a thumbs-up motion from a worker to another, tools and metal spikes are pulled up by a rope.
"How many died on Flight 180?" Jackson said. "From our group?"
"Twenty-nine," Melissa answered.
"Remember the gate number?"
As Melissa takes a moment to consider, Jackson steers them well around the scaffolds, eyes skyward during the move.
"No," Melissa finally replies.
"Twenty-nine." This is a creepy fact.
Even though they're past the construction, Jackson checks over his shoulder to assure they are out of harm's way.
"Remember the departure time?" he asked.
"Like…four-twenty-five?" Melissa said.
Reaching an intersection, Jackson pushes the pedestrian traffic light button, then steps well away from the curb. The halting red hand on the pedestrian signal lights up.
"Do you know when I was born?" Jackson said.
Melissa sighs, growing impatient with Jackson. "Four-twenty-five?" She guessed.
"Right. April twenty-fifth."
"Wait. I thought you meant the time of your birth. Four-twenty five, as in, month and day? That's a reach."
On the traffic signal, the halting red hand turns into a little white walking man. Melissa takes a step off the sidewalk and onto the street. Jackson tugs her back, looking both ways while outraged by her challenge.
"My birthday is the same as the time I was meant to die! That's a reach?!"
Vroom! A car makes a right, tearing through the intersection. Once past, Jackson takes Melissa by the arm and hustles them across the street.
"You're sounding like those people who, you know…'Oswald shot Kennedy from a warehouse and hid in a theatre, and Booth shot Lincoln in a theatre and hid in a warehouse.'"
An unmarked sedan is parked across and down from a Starbucks with outdoor seating. Fujimoto and Marin sit unnoticed, eyes coolly locked on Jackson and Melissa. Eric McGorrill rides toward the Starbucks on his bike. Sitting outside the Starbucks, Jackson hunches over the table, increasingly anxious. Melissa listens, expression skeptical.
"I'm not just layin' down a bunch of math here, with this. I'm talking about indications…omens…that day, that we were meant to die. That, if we have been aware of…would have saved everyone on the plane."
Melissa speaks up. "That's total bullcrap. You can find death omens anywhere you want to." She picks up her paper coffee cup. "Hey, look! Coffee starts with a 'C' and ends with an 'E.' So does the work 'choke!' We're going to choke to death! Oh no! Starbuck was a whaler. We're going to be harpooned!"
Jackson angrily glares at Melissa.
She drops her tone. "You'll go nuts if you start with that crap."
Ms. Twist appears from around the corner. She starts toward the entrance, but pauses, tensing when she sees Jackson.
He cautiously flashes a greeting smile. The teacher, however, averts her eyes and continues into the coffee shop. Jackson sighs guiltily. Melissa sympathizes with both of them.
"She's leaving the school," Melissa says. "Moving away."
Jackson studies, appealing to her.
"Melissa, how do we know that by just sitting here, breathing this air or sipping the coffee, having crossed the street…we haven't started in motion the events that will lead to our death? Fifty years from now. Ten years. Tomorrow." He pauses a beat. "You don't unless…you're able to open yourself to the signs I'm willing to show you."
He leans forward, removing a piece of paper from his pocket. He slides it across the table. Removing his hand, he reveals the piece of paper reading 'Lex.' Melissa takes the paper. As she raises it, her expression is puzzled. As she eyes Jackson for an explanation, a slight approaching breeze knocks some empty paper cups on the table over.
A somewhat cherry '70's muscle car speeds in the direction of the Starbucks. Nathan McHugh is driving. Taylor Hagan rides shotgun. Nathan looks out the window.
Melissa holds the paper as Jackson explains his story about the sign before Lex died.
Nathan scowls, his anger rising as he slows, staring at the perceived reasons for his problems.
Melissa's eyes turn from the paper to Jackson, concerned about him.
"I don't understand…did you see Lex die? Did it happen again, like on the plane?"
"No," Jackson said. "But it might as well be the same thing. This was a message…from someone, or something…hinting at the design."
"Jackson, on the plane…you must have experienced…some kind of hyper awareness. But here…you're suggesting Lex's death…and maybe our own…will happen because of…an active Presence."
Jackson nods, feeling she's understanding.
"The mortician said Death has a design. Now…if you, me, Lex, Nathan, Taylor, Eric, Ms. Twist messed up that design, because, for whatever reason, I was able to see Death's plan…then we cheated it." Jackson pauses a beat before continuing. "But what if it was our time, what if we were not meant to get off that plane? What if it is still our time? If…It…is still not finished with us? We will all still die. Now; not later."
Troubled and deeply concerned, Melissa studies Jackson.
Jackson continues. "Unless…we find the pattern. And cheat it again.?
Melissa sets the paper down, looking sadly at Jackson. "After hearing you, just now…I do believe…"
Jackson leans back and sighs, relieved.
Melissa continued. "…that Lex killed himself."
Jackson is taken aback, hurt and angry. "Then there's no one left who can help me."
His eyes having never left Jackson, Nathan suddenly cranks the wheel hard to the left to make a tight U-turn. The car barrels toward him and cuts in front of Eric, who is still riding his bicycle. Eric swerves to the left, directly in front of an oncoming car. The car swerves right, as does Eric, avoiding a certain fatal collision for the cyclist. The oncoming car honks.
Nathan's car pulls up to the curb. Oblivious to the accident he almost caused, Nathan gets out, strutting toward the tables outside the coffee shop.
Taylor sighs. "Baby, come on…not now." But her boyfriend continues. She gets out and hustles after him.
Their attention drawn by the commotion, Melissa and Jackson watch Nathan McHugh approach, followed by Taylor, who stops, irked, near the curb at the crosswalk. "Carter," Taylor calls.
At that moment, Ms. Twist exits with an expresso drink. Sensing trouble, she has no energy or desire to involve herself.
"Kind of have a reunion here," Nathan said.
"Let it go!" Taylor said.
Nathan steps before Ms. Twist, blocking her exit. "When are you moving?" he asked her.
"A couple of weeks," she replied. She can't wait to leave. She tries to walk around Nathan.
"We're losing our favorite teacher," Nathan said.
"Look," Jackson said. "There's something you should all know."
"Jackson…" Melissa tries to stop him.
Nathan eyes Jackson, continuing the taunt. He raises the volume to drown out Jackson's words and incite conflict.
"Lived here her whole life," Nathan said.
At the same time as Nathan said his comment, Jackson said, "This'll be hard to believe. Ms. Twist's eyes flash to Jackson, afraid of him.
Again, Nathan and Jackson speak at the same time.
"And now she has to move. All because of Cody."
"Listen to me. We may all be in danger."
"Shut up! The both of you!" Taylor said. The two boys stop their heated exchange. "They died! We lived!" Taylor paused a beat. "Get over it! I won't let that plane crash be the most important thing in my life. I'm moving on, Nathan, and if you're gonna waste your life beating the crap out of Jackson everytime you see him," she said, head and shoulders remaining angrily in Nathan's direction while taking a blind step off the curb and onto the crosswalk, "then you can just drop freakin' dea-"
A speeding bus suddenly plows right into her. Jackson, Melissa, Nathan, and Ms. Twist are splattered with blood before they can even recoil.