-Oakland, California, Tuesday, 2:40pm PDT-

The persistent call for sleep sounded like an alarm bell in the back of Brand's mind. Head unbearably heavy on his neck, he felt it flop onto his chest, eyes lulling closed, his world pitching forward as he teetered on aching feet. A jolt of fear made the young man snap to attention, rigid as a soldier, stretching his eyes impossibly wide in an effort to rouse himself. Shit, he thought with a yawn, he could fall asleep standing right here, right now. He needed rest, his body begged, no, just coffee Brand argued mentally.

The intense heat rising from the flat top permeated his clothing, radiating scornfully across his chest, neck, and face. Taking a half step back the teen mopped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Glancing around as coworkers all rushed frantically about, snapping orders and jostling against each other in the cramped kitchen the peak of "rush hour" was taking its toll on staff morale. The bleak overwhelming sense of frustration and futility infecting him as well mingled sharply with the overly familiar reek of day old fry oil that came wafting through the air. Brand felt a pang of regret for coming in today.

Work had utterly consumed his life since the start of summer, picking up any and all shifts he could, grateful that his employer wasn't one to shy away from doling out overtime as it was "easier than training new hires" or something to that affect, and they needed the money. If Brand could pay off just one of his mom's debts in full he knew that she could breathe just a little easier. Giving the grey hockey pucks of beef a flip, Brand watched in misery as fat and grease bubbled from them with a malodorous stink. He really used to like the food before he started working here, now he wasn't quite so sure.

Working the line frying up burgers before sending them down to be assembled, order after order after order, demands kept flowing in from both the counter and drive through faster than the minimum wage employees were able to keep up. In spite of the chaotic atmosphere the monotony of the task allowed the the boy's mind to wander as he silently completed his duties. He needed a day off, Brand thought, a day to just sleep, but he couldn't. It was more than just the cash however, though that was a big part if it, if he was being honest with himself it was because he was avoiding Half-Court.

At first Brand hadn't even realized he was doing it, he would just get busy with work and forget to call or text her back, and being out of school made in person run-ins a thing of the past, so while he was slinging heart attacks and happy meals she was out living her life in the equally hectic world of retail. But now, it just seemed like the most reasonable course of action to take, and even when he could make the time he didn't. As much as it hurt she had a future, a bright one, and he wanted to protect that at all costs, even if it meant he didn't. Courtney deserved college, and had worked too damn hard to earn that scholarship, he wasn't about to let her throw it all away for him.

God this sucks, he thought dismally, but over the past couple years he'd learned that, that's just how life is.

Wondering absentmindedly about what his dad would say about this particular situation the boy let out another yawn. He'd never realized he could miss someone so much, or how hollow one person's absence could make his life become. Even now he'd see something cool in the news, or get excited about a new movie coming out and for one brief instance, forget, and give his dad a call. It would go straight to voicemail, then Brand would remember. Tearfully he'd leave his message and hang up. The teen wondered if his mom knew that he hadn't closed out the phone line like he'd promised when they were trying to out their lives back together. He just couldn't bring himself to do it, to say goodbye, it felt too final, and besides they moved the bill into Brand's name anyways. Leaving the messages however, felt, like maybe he was still there, and being able to still talk to him was comforting beyond words.

God, Brand wanted to walk into the house one night and hear his dad's laugh coming from the kitchen, to be called "Champ" again, though it was a nickname he resented growing up, he just, he just wanted his dad...

"You alright man?" Pat asked slugging him in the shoulder, a concerned look on her face.

"Yeah, yeah dude I'm fine!" Brand nodded taking a step back, wiping his face with his shirt. "Just getting overheated is all, sweat in my eyes, you know how it is."

"Sure do." Pat agreed throwing some horns and opening her mouth in a snear to reveal a pierced tongue. The gesture was supposed to make her seem intimidating, but to her friend just made her look anything but. "Living that badass thug life, below the poverty line at MD's!"

"You're gonna get a write up again if you keep it up." Brand warned shaking his head, but he knew Pat could care less. He envied that about her.

"Let me know if you wanna switch." she offered passing him by on the way to the freezer.

"Will do." the young man nodded kicking her playfully in the leg as she walked past.

"Hostile work environment!" the girl shouted, adding an exaggerating limp to her gate.

Shaking his head as he laughed at her antics Brand took an uneasy breath, and like that the moment was gone. He still missed his dad, but the pain had ebbed away, replaced by the present and his immense responsibility. That's just how it went, he thought knowing the sorrow would inevitably creep up on him later.

By the the time rush hour had ended a bone weariness had descended over the crew who shambled about aimlessly like the sleep and sunlight deprived zombies they were. Counting down the minutes until his lunch break Brand now on register listened idley to the conversations going on around him, enjoying the slow laxed pace brought on by the few customers who traipsed in at leisure. Then he heard the guys becoming quite boisterous and rowdy from the back.

"Shit did you just see that? No fucking way!" Kai bellowed with a culmination of shock and a disbelieving dark sense of humor.

"His head is just gone! Wham!" Shane added with just as much polarized energy.

"You guys are fucking sick!" Pat bit out storming away hotly just as a curious and perplexed Brand made his way to the line to unravel the mysterious cause of all the sudden tension and excitement.

"What's going on?" he asked with an apprehensive half smile, the air about his friends uneasy.

"Dude you gotta see this! This shits everywhere on LiveLeaks, YouTube's taking it down but it's going up faster than they can catch it! I don't know man it's a shit-show!" Kai exclaimed turning so that he was standing side-by-side with the interloper so that they could view his phone screen together.

His stomach bound tightly at the very mention of the website's name, Brand was familiar with the grizzly content it was known for: police brutality, live footage of active shooter situations, a brief and harrowing glimpse at the inhuman genocidal violences taking place all over the world. Bloody images clawed their way to life in the young man's mind. He tried staying informed, really, he did, but sometimes it was just too much to bear, and this site was a window to all of it. Brows knit Brand's heart immediately began to hammer away as tried making sense of what he was seeing.

A shooter, he thought with sickened despair as the camera whipped and jostled back and forth as it's user ran and shoved their way through a tightly packed crowd, panicked screams echoing from the phone's speakers when the lense and mic weren't muffled as the hand that recorded the video pushed in rough desperation against the backs of people fleeing before them. He didn't want to see this, Brand thought turning away with a nauseated grimace, empathetically putting himself in the videographer's shoes. What must it feel like to be that afraid?

"Wait-wait!" Kai said a hand finding Brand's shoulder as he tried making his way back towards the front.

It happened fast, and the teenager only caught it out of the corner of his eye but it looked almost like a parachute, or large tarp had fallen over some of the people in the crowd. The screaming intensified.

"What the hell?" Brand asked taking the phone in hand, peering closer at it's glass face. Then in a blur another bolt of fabric fell, enveloping a mass of bodies in the crowd, and another. A distinctive icy sensation found it's way into his bloodstream when he saw the large swathes of encompassing cloth moving of their own accord, and he realized that it wasn't fabric at all, but wings.

"Yeah," Shane said softly beside him. "All the dinos at Jurassic World got out and they're just tearing people apart... I mean... they're all totally fucked!" his voice trailed on mentioning something about boats and evacuation attempts, but his words fell on deaf ears. All Brand could hear was the screaming.

The world suddenly retreated away from Brand as the air rushing from his lungs. In a narrowing pinprick of time he stood still shrouded by a horror and grief that consumed him.

Time stopped.

The fiery eruption of pain searing through his hand and lancing up the young man's arm broke the temporal stasis he had found himself locked in, as he mindlessly reached to brace himself, his hand finding only the flattop. Wretching his arm away from the heat source, his body seething with pain and fear, the teen stared without comprehension at his quickly blistering hand. The room had shattered into a bout of discord as the others began shouting.

"Are you alright?" Kai gasped.

"Brand! Someone get ice!" Shane panicked.

"You assholes!" Pat was shrilled, grabbing Brand by the wrist trying to pull him towards the sink, but to the boy in question the immense pain from the burn was secondary to his fear.

Darius, he thought. Brand was running in an instant and behind the wheel of his car faster than he had time to process his actions. Only Kai slamming his fists irately on the hood brought the teen back into himself as he tried to drive away. Realizing seconds too late what he wanted Brand threw the cellphone out of the window before peeling out in a screeching torrent of burnt rubber.

He was speeding, the young man thought distantly, running lights as he wove with an unconscious effort between other vehicles, a world he was scarcely aware of blurring past him, if he got pulled over- Teeth grit, Brand squeezed tight on the steering wheel, focusing only on the radiating agony that to kept him grounded as the forefront of his mind was filled with bloody, and damned images of his little brother, dead.

No, he blinked back tears, he couldn't be dead! He just couldn't!

Struggling Brand dug the phone from his pocket and gave Darius a call praying for him to be alright. Tucked hastily between his cheek and shoulder the slim device slipped out his grasp when the unfeeling, mechanized voice message picked up. Brand let out a scream of rage, letting loose a stream of hot tears he beat his fists against the wheel, slamming his body back into his seat where his head bounced jarringly off it's rest.

"No God, no! Why are you doing this to me?" he wailed in a prayer of condemnation. First his dad and now Darius? What had he done wrong? What did he do to deserve this? He wondered with a stark sense of celestial abandonment.

"Why God, why?" he begged an answer. "Again? What did I do? Why are you doing this? He's- he's just a kid! For fuck's sake he's just a kid! Please, please take me instead! Let me crash right now! God take me! Take me! Please God! Please! Please! Take me! Take me!" Thrashing the young man battled his seat as he let out another bellow of anguish. "Let him be alright! Please just let him be alright! God- fucking damnit! Let him be ok!"

Lamenting feverishly to the heavens it wasn't long, yet seemed an eternity before Brand had pulled up in front of the hospital. Leaping from his car as valets scrambled to stop the still rolling vehicle he raced inside, past reception and through the labyrinth of mostly empty, sterilized halls. His shoes squeaking loudly as he wound his way through the passages that had ruefully become familiar, he spared a thought to the fact that he hadn't been there since Dad. How his mom did it day after day, he didn't know.

Frantic, and only vaguely aware that he was now being pursued by a pair of guards Brand couldn't halt his momentum fast enough as he slammed into the counter of the nurse's station in the cardiac unit. "Where's my mom?" was all he could choke out before several hands found him and began pulling him backwards. He struggled against the men in uniform who were radioing for backup before his world spun sharply, and he found himself face down on the ground. There he wept, and cried out like the lost child he was. "Mom!"

Gaze locked onto the television screen in the waiting area Monica's hands were pressed tight against the rampant beating of her heart where what broken shards were left of it threatened to rip themselves free from her chest. She couldn't move, frozen, as she watched the hellscape that was the news unfurling in front of her. Massive throngs of bodies pressed tight against one another, people crushed and churned under heel, families desperately trying to cling to one another in the chaos as large monstrous beasts fell upon the crowds from the sky.

Her baby was there, she thought feeling weak in the knees. He was there amid all the death and fear, and destruction, and he was all alone. Taking only a shallow hiccuping breath, her lungs burning, and the woman realized that she couldn't breathe. Fanning a hand in front of her face she commanded her body to perform one of it's most basic functions, but found that she couldn't remember how. Desperation, and anxiety coiling around her throat, her larynx felt crushed beneath her own restraint from trying in vain not to breakdown, not to cry, and make a scene, and now the air just wouldn't come.

Then, when the thought of passing out flickered with trepidation through her mind, it happened, with a sharp intake of air, she exhaled in a ragged sob and her composure broken, patients turning in their chairs with sudden alarm. Quaking, and crying as she watched the horror on screen the woman thought, if only for an instant, that she could hear her son calling for her, Darius' voice ringing in her heart and her mind. She heard it again, louder, more dire than before. It was real, she thought the notion rising to her consciousness. Chills ran down her spine, goosebumps forming across her body.

Then she heard it again, a forlorn, "Mom! Please, mom!"

Hairs standing on the nape of her neck Monica realized that it wasn't Darius, but Brandon calling for her. The nurse raced out of the waiting room and into an adjacent hall where her blood ran cold. Shouting in pain as three grown men struggled, wresting Brandon's arms roughly behind his back to be handcuffed, while a fourth restrained his legs her boy craned his neck to look at her with wide brown eyes.

Adrenaline surging through her at the fearful sight the woman who had taken an oath to do no harm ran towards the scene. Without much thought she began pushing, and shoving, her hands slapping and finding the faces of the guards who were her friends and coworkers as she tried to get them to release their immense grips, obscenities tumbling from her lips in an unbroken stream.

"That's my son!" she shrieked. "That's my son!"

Knocked back by a strong shoulder to her stomach Monica clutched the back of her head where it had collided with the floor. Doctors and nurses came rushing out to see what the commotion was as the screaming came to a tense, threatening crescendo.

After a few strained moments, and the intervention of Doctors Fitzgerald and Torres the men let go, moving away to watch for what they claimed to be "signs of a potential threat," allowing Monica to scoop Brandon into her arms. Mother and son sat on ground clinging to one another in a fit of hysterics as they struggled to work through, and process what had just happened, their minds struggling to detangle the series of events that transpired, picking apart what had happened within the hospital and its correlation to what was happening miles away on an island teeming with man-made monsters.

Through all of the weeping and wretching it was Brand who spoke first. "He knows this stuff." he was saying tearfully into the crook of her neck. "Darius knows this stuff! He knows Dinosaurs. He's going to be alright, right? He's going to be alright?" he sobbed cycling through the same forlorn questions reaching frantically for some thread of hope to hold onto. "He knows this stuff. He knows it right? He's a smart kid. He'll make it to the boats. The counselors will look out for him. It's not like he's alone. The counselors will look out for him. They have to have a plan right? He's a smart kid. He's going to be alright, mom? Mom, please tell me he's going to be ok!"

Monica listened to his anguished cries from somewhere remote, and buried deep within. She wanted nothing more than to comfort her child clinging to him tightly as he mumbled his tearful mantra and cradled what she noted was a badly burnt hand. Hapless, and without a lifeline of her own she just didn't have the answers Brandon was so desperately looking for. Blinking back tears the woman tried to remain level headed, to reason her way through all that had happened, her grasp tenuous on the murmured assurances her eldest offered. He was right, Darius wasn't alone, they did have a plan, and he was smart enough to figure things out for himself. Monica tried to make these facts a foundation on which to stand, but found only a sea of pebbles beneath her feet.

Monica had been here before. She'd walked this sandy desolate beach where hope was an illusion at best.

There had been so many facts to work with, possibilities, treatments, options, the experts had spoken with such confidence, and faith. Because of this they spent so much time in and out if the hospital, taking treatment after treatment, after treatment as chemo, and radiation slowly eroded the once bright spirit that had burned so brightly, and the life had been stripped from Fredrick's eyes. Where, she wondered, had all that optimism gotten them? No where. Her husband was still dead, and what time she'd had left with him was spent with a shell of the man she'd fallen in love with.

Monica let out a wail. He was dead. Trembling she cluched tighter to her son. She couldn't do this, this false hope, trying to hold it all together and put on a good show for the sake of her children. She was tired, so very tired, and it hurt too much.

"Mom," Brandon pleaded in a whisper. "He's going to be alright, right?"

Shaking her head Monica remorsefully admitted, "I don't know."

The boy's shock and grief manifested in a scream, arms squeezing tight around her, legs kicking as he buried his face deeper into her chest. She was his mom, it was her job to protect him, to make all of his hurts go away, but she couldn't, she just couldn't. So she held him. Held him, and cried, unable to shake the unnerving sense of clarity that now she was going to have to bury her baby too.

-Omaha, Nebraska, Tuesday, 6:07pm DST-

Eyes squeezed shut against the tears Sameera rocked to one side alight with mirth and laughter, ribs in stitches, it was just too good, and she couldn't breathe. Sitting on the bedroom floor at her friend Jayanti's house, Sameera, elegantly dressed, felt like quite the princess as Jayanti carded through her hair arranging it into an ornate crown of elaborate braids, and Farah carefully painted her toenails with a practiced care. Sprawled across the mountain of pillows beside them the petite Paige who awaited her turn for the royal treatment was incapacitated with laughter.

"Quit moving!" Farah chortled, struggling to hold onto Sameera's foot, her cheeks hued with a flush of embarrassment as the group gossiped and joked in a playful manner about the only topic worth discussing, boys.

"Wait, wait, wait, that really happened?" Sameera asked disbelievingly as she tried to reign herself in, sitting up a little taller to keep her hair from being tugged by the girl who sat on the bed above her.

"Yes!" Farah admitted, head ducking down on her shoulders, as if she regretted bringing it up.

"And he thought that charming?" Paige asked jolting up, her golden tresses a tangled, static-filled mess from rolling around on the carpet. "'I wiped this public drinking fountain off with the front of my shirt after using it to spare you from the germs milady!'" the girl, born with dwarfism, and used to a very different form of public perception laughed pulling herself up tall and bowing with a flourish of an invisible cape.

"Ugh he was so cute!" Farah lamented, crying out to the heavens. "Why did he have to go and be weird like that? Then he got all huffy when I used the fountain, like was I supposed to say 'thank you?' It's like do boys even get it?"

"At least not boys our age." Jayanti intoned, her voice dropping pitch scandalously. The room erupted with squealing as the quartet jostled one another about.

"No!" Sameera giggled. "Your dad will kill you!"

"What's his name? What's his name?" Paige badgered hands clapping with enthusiastic demand.

Jayanti, dropping Sameera's hair, closed her eyes with exasperation, her long, ocher fingers laced together with an intense, dreamy longing. "Jin!" she sighed with romantic enthusiasm, gazing with adoration at the poster of her favorite boy band. Pillows took flight across the room as chaos broke out amongst the friends, the frenzied fan, lovingly absorbing the brunt of the abuse.

It didn't get much better than this, Sameera thought, as they bludgeoned one another.

On the surface for the vivacious twelve year old, like many other children her age, summer meant only one thing, well, two things actually: sleep overs, and swimming! And since school had been released for the year her parents had struggled to keep up with her hyperactive gaggle of friends as the girls descended like a ravenous plague across the neighborhood, devouring snacks in the blink of an eye, hiking electric bills, and haunting the night air with their gossip and laughter so that sleep was a thing of the past. The way some of their parents talked school couldn't return fast enough, but to their children this was what made life worth living, as she and her friends made vagabonds of themselves, staying at one anothers homes for days on end.

Beneath those same waves however, lie a turbulent sea of anxieties and inadequacy, known only to these three whom Sameera trusted above all else. Secrets, regrets, and fears were shared between them in the quiet hours of early morning which always seemed to give rise to a ruminative nature in the girls, and found them, more often than not reflecting on their lives. Hidden shames that made Sameera shrink before the expectations of her parents, teachers, and fellow peers were laid bare during those long talks. For Sameera, beneath the veneer of girlhood, was a lump of coal under the pressure of all those around her, hoping that she would one day become a diamond and live up to the seemingly unattainable dreams and aspirations of others.

Her brother Ahmed had set the bar for scholarly pursuit, making the unbelievably narrow cut at John Hopkins University was destined to become a surgeon of great renoun, while her sister was a literal Olympian, who had discovered a passion and skill at such an early age Yasmina would no doubt become world famous because of it. Then there was Sameera who always felt like her parents were watching with baited breath for her to do something miraculous, but she never did. There was nothing special about her, no matter how hard she tried, and she always felt as though she fell short of their expectations, though they never said as much, only that they 'wanted her to be happy.'

For that reason and that reason alone, summer was a much needed, and appreciated, respite. There were no grades to aim for, no goals to meet, limits to push yourself towards, just pure freedom!

"So are we still gonna make bracelets?" Farah asked, adjusting the drape of the sari she wore, hand-me-downs from Jayanti's older sister and cousins. The elegant attire was meant to be reserved for special occasions but were now allocated to play-dress as her relatives spoiled her with the traditional garb at every opportunity.

Jayanti shrugged, "If you want to." she said with half interest as they moved onto Paige's makeover.

"Finally!" the girl in question beamed, taking her place in the seat of honor.

"What do you mean 'finally?'" Sameera sneered playfully. "You totally rushed through my manicure!"

"Did not!" she argued.

"Did so!" Sameera shot back, flashing her hands for all to see their minor imperfections. The others gasped at the audacity, before Sameera dropped the charade with a playful wrinkle of her nose, and began analysing color options, comparing them to Paige's complexion. Picking up a pair of chopsticks from the floor as she contemplated her options the girl fished a Cheeto from the communal bowl, maintaining such flawless looks took effort!

"Mom says we can order pizza," Jayanti chimed, already hard at word detangling the wispy platinum locks of her friend. "But she did ask me to remind everyone of the house rules."

"Ugh! I'm so sorry!" Paige cried out, hands covering her face, obviously still reeling from her little faux pas of bringing beef jerky as a snack to share last time. The others began laughing, teasing her gently.

"It was a real bull-headed move!" Farah larked mischievously before adding. "Next you'll bring pork rinds to my house!"

"Or mine!" Sameera piped up.

"It's ok, no one was mad!" Jayanti assured after a while.

"Oh sure, no one was mad, but you still let me stand there and just die of embarrassment!" Paige said, throwing a friendly elbow.

"I didn't know what to say, you pulled it out wham, like it was nothing and offered some to my dad! I was in shock!" Jayanti giggled tickling her friend's vulnerable neck as she spoke.

Sometime later, after everyone was made up the rowdy troupe sashayed their way towards the living room to put on a show, and place their requests for dinner. As they sauntered past the kitchen however, it became immediately apparent that something was wrong. Jayanti's parents were both in there, cellphones pressed to their ears, her mother huddled tight into a corner her free arm folded defensively across her chest, while her father paced hotly. They were whispering about something to one another in an urgent manner that died upon their lips the moment the girls appeared at the doorway.

"Um... What's up?" Jayanti asked with a nervous smile.

"Nothing, nothing!" her mom was quick to assure, pocketing her cellphone, even as her father squeezed past the group and headed for the master bedroom. "You all look very lovely! Give me a turn!"

Cautiously the four complied spinning in slow circles. "Fantastic!" the woman beamed. "Now tell me what you'd like on your pizzas then you can go back into Jayanti's room and play!"

"Mom?" Jayanti asked, her brows loosely knit. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing." the woman replied behind her teeth as she continued to smile, though her gaze seemed to hold a warning to it that Sameera could only just perceive, yet appeared plain to her daughter. "Now, what am I ordering? We can get soda and dessert too!" she beamed pulling out a scratch piece of paper and a pen.

Something was wrong, the girls could tell. The immediate hushed concerns they began voicing to one another the moment the bedroom door had closed securely behind them confirmed that no one was alone in their suspicions.

"What do you think it is?" Paige asked nervously.

"I don't know." Jayanti replied brow creased with worry.

"Maybe it's nothing too serious," Farah piped up, ever the optimist. "Like there's something wrong with the car and they can't get ahold of the mechanic, or just got called about a bounced check and are frustrated trying to fix it."

"If it was something to do with money I don't think we'd still be getting pizza, and dessert." Sameera rolled her eyes, tapping the side of her forehead with an exaggerated movement.

"What if there's something wrong with the apartment and they can't get ahold of the landlord?" Paige chipped in.

"What if there's something wrong with one of my relatives?" Jayanti, who's extended family was scattered across not only the country, but globe questioned hesitantly.

Everyone very quiet with nerves, fearful that Jayanti's parents unusual behavior was caused by something more than the mundane problems and annoyances that they had concocted. Gloomily the quartet attempted to return to their activities, working together to tidy the makeup and nail polish left scattered about the room. For several minutes afterwards, no one spoke, merely they sat in quiet, grim, contemplation, staring at her shelf of DVDs pretending to be weeding out what to watch.

"I'm going to go ask." the girl in question announced after a while rising to confront her parents.

"I'm sure everything is alright." Farah mused when Jayanti had left.

"Maybe they have to move..." Paige murmured dismally.

Sameera whose heart was racing nearly as quickly as her mind pondered the situation silently. She was worried for Jayanti and wanted to help her somehow, if she could, but before anything could he done she had to know what the problem was. Glamour forgotten the girl began to pick and peel anxiously at her nails, and the skin around them.

"I hate it when grown ups keep secrets, and treat us like little kids." she announced absentmindedly. Farah and Paige nodded in agreement.

When Jayanti returned a few minutes later there was something very different about her demeanor, she seemed deeply perturbed by something, and held apprehension in her smile. "Mom says it's nothing to worry about, we chatted a sec, um, so what do you guys wanna do? We can make bracelets, watch a movie, play a board game?" she asked rattling off a list of activities, though Sameera was keen to notice the way the other girl kept glancing at her, only to look away after being spotted.

"You sure everything's alright?" Sameera asked, the shrewd observer, arms crossed defiantly.

"Yeah, no everything's totally good!" Jayanti vowed, but when the others didn't seem convinced she hurriedly pressed forward with her list of things to do. "So, bracelets!" she intoned fetching her box of glass beads and wire cords.

Sameera watched Jayanti with scrutiny from the bed as she made busy work getting everything together. "I thought friends weren't supposed to keep secrets." she muttered, watching as the other girl flinched as though wounded. "Guess we aren't friends anymore..."

"My mom said I'm not supposed to tell you." Jayanti replied, crestfallen.

"Just me?" Sameera asked, pulse pounding with dark spots behind her eyes, as her mind raced to fill in the blanks, making horror stories of the unknown variables, knowing, if not exactly what, that something had happened to her family. Her friend nodded solemnly.

On her feet at once the Sameera ran for the door. Jayanti, and the others quick to follow her lead in their uncertainty and concern leaped to their feet to try and stop her. Shoving away the girls that barred her exit, or attempted to ensnare her limbs Sameera took off with a speed she thought in a fleeting instant, would make her sister proud. Darting down the hall and past the kitchen intent on confronting the deceitful adults who were keeping her from the truth Sameera came to a stop in an empty living room. Brows knit she peered about with confusion, only the familiarity of a name catching her attention, she turned towards the television.

Her friends barreling in behind her, Sameera stared in wide eyed horror at the screen as crowds of frantic people fled, crushing tightly together in an attempt to save themselves from demonic predators with wings. The stream cut out without warning, the device turning dark. Tears welling in her eyes the girl turned to see Jayanti's father had come up behind the others, remote in his hand. For a dreadful moment no one spoke. A cold electrified tension filling the air of the apartment as everyone stared at Sameera, and desperately lost, she stared back

"We've tried reaching your parents." the man began, his tone tentative, as though he was afraid of the outcome his words would bring. "We'll keep trying, I'm sure everything is fine, boats are already leaving the island. I don't want you to worry, everything will be alright." he assured. "Aishwarya went to pick up dinner, why don't you all go back to Jayanti's room and have fun?"

Heartrate still rampant Sameera felt as though she were sleepwalking, as she stared entranced at the man, without comprehending his words. She'd seen what was happening, her sister was in danger, possibly dead, he'd been keeping it from her, Jayanti had been keeping it from her, and now she was supposed to go back to what she had be doing before? To pretend like everything was going to be fine? Her body was cold and numb as her friends tried to gently lead the way, but Sameera stood rooted in place.

"It'll be alright!" Paige said hurriedly, trying her best to help.

"Yeah, there's no way anything bad could happen to Yasmina, I mean, she's Yasmina right?" Farah smiled. "I'm sure she was on the first boat out." Trembling Sameera could scarcely feel her friends' arms looping about her as they hugged her, trying in their own way to make things better.

How often had she wished for this? The girl wondered tearfully. In secret, after a big race, or when it was time for report cards to come in? Sameera loved her big sister, truly she did with all of her heart, even when Yasmina's rebellious nature wounded her, but there was still a secret pit, a cavern in her heart eroded by her own inadequacy. She was jealous, envious, a part of her even hated Yasmina for standing out where she could not. How often had she wished ill on her sister, that her grades would fail, that she would get hurt and couldn't compete anymore, that she would just disappear?

Now, now all that might come true and more.

Sameera's chest was crushed beneath the massive weight of her despair, and self loathing. She'd do anything to have Yasmina back, she fretted, anything. Crumpling into a heap of tears, though she was surrounded by her friends Sameera found herself trapped by her feelings of regret, isolation, and fear. She was alone.

-7:32pm DST-

Lailah stood poised, her hand resting on the smooth, blackish-purple skin of an aubergine, her eyes closed. In the darkness behind her lids figures flashed in front of her eyes. A flutter coming to the woman's lashes she was trying to determine if the sales price warranted the purchase. Irritably finding herself unable to concentrate, the accountant, who oftentimes dreamed in a sea of numbers chose to eat the loss, whatever that might be, she wanted sabich, damnit, even if it wasn't on the list.

Bagging the vegetables and placing them into her cart the woman ambled on, back aching from spending all day seated in her less than supportive office chair she leaned on the bar heavily. Continuing to collect the missing ingredients for the dish, that to her was the pinnacle of comfort food. She soon found herself fondly reminiscent of her childhood in her anticipation of the sabich. Smiling to herself Lailah recalled haphazard breakfasts slapped together by her widowed father as he ushered everyone out the door, or bought from a street vendor on the way to school, tahini dabbed playfully on her nose by the man when she had 'least expected it.' Her shock and outrage always playfully amplified, just to see him laugh as though he'd caught her unawares and won their unspoken game.

These memories were the ones she clung to, precious diamonds in a rough of military check points, marginalized status, sporadic access to electricity, and the overwhelming anxiety that her native residency in the West Bank had caused her. It was good that she'd come to America when she'd had the chance, Lailah thought with a yawn, though it meant that she could never return to the place she'd called home. Laughing at herself, she still remembered the first frightening years of autonomy, outside of the apartheid. She had been so jittery, naive, and plagued with uncertainty, even as her host family, and future inlaws, assured that all was well.

She rolled her eyes recalling how much Jamil had teased her back then, and how it almost seemed impossible for her not to have fallen in love with him. Yes, even if things had been difficult for a while, and attitudes towards her people had shifted over time, the woman felt it was still much better here, for America truly was a land of opportunity, a land that she was blessed would allow her children the ability to excel.

Keeping a running total on the same legal pad she used to cross items from her list the woman, who was currently the family's sole provider was mindful of her carefully planned budget.

While indeed life was gift here, things had certainly changed a great deal since her son had made it into John Hopkins. All of his hard work, and all of the family's sacrifices to help him build this opportunity for himself had finally paid off. Ahmed's future bright with promise, it made the woman hopeful, and brought her immense joy. The only twinge of remorse was her wish that he would call more, her nest beginning to feel dangerously empty already.

The greatest change however, had been in her husband Jamil. Where Lailah had seen only hope and pride Ahmed's achievement had, had the opposite effect on his father. For months Jamil had been filled with a dark brooding, despise, and an anger that was displaced lashing out against the family. It had taken some prying but at last Lailah had found the root of the problem, her husband's jealousy in their son, and desire to do more with his own life, feeling that the failures of his youth, and playing it safe for the sake of financial stability, had robbed him of his opportunities to do more. The man had worked hard for years as a laborer until eventually earning a license as a contractor, and yet watching their son chase his dreams left a bitter taste in Jamil's mouth.

After much thought, soulsearching, and some creative accounting and money management on her part Lailah, who'd gone to college when her husband had not, managed to, with some financial aid had rearranged things so that he could obtain his own dream and return to school. Jamil now pursued a law degree, and though forever weary and less help than usual around the apartment, he finally seemed happy with life once more, and that made Lailah happy.

Checking out the woman made pleasantries with the cashier, before making her way to the car. Once home Lailah cursed herself, vowing that one day, one day they'd move to an building without so many stairs as she lugged her purchases up the echoing corridor, and down the hall. Storing away all of the chilled food Lailah looked around at the mass of dry goods, toiletries, and detergents that still awaited her attention.

"Fuck it." she muttered wearily. Kicking off her shoes, and tossing her hijab onto the counter, the woman who had the house to herself for at least hour felt that she had earned a well deserved break. Falling back into the sofa legs dangling over the armrest, she pulled out her phone, eager to open her favorite app, a soothing color by number game that Jamil liked to playfully jab her about, calling her an old lady for enjoying it.

Brows furrowed at the growing list of missed calls Lailah turned on her ringer, heart thrumming madly as she realized that most of them were from Aishwarya and Rajiv. Something had happened to Sameera she thought, quickly calling back. A million possibilities raced through her mind at once, ranging from broken friendships and hurt feelings, to bodily injury, allergic reactions, and hospitalization. At last Aishwarya answered, her voice pinched.

"Is everything alright?" Lailah snapped urgently. "What's happened to Sameera?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, but in the background Lailah thought she could hear crying. "Lailah," Aishwarya started gently. "It's not Sameera..."

Sitting up now the girl's mother was having difficulty understanding this information, if there was nothing wrong with her daughter, why all of the missed calls? Why the cause for alarm? "Are the other girls alright?" she asked with sharp irritably. "Was there a fight?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that." Aishwarya confessed, her voice teeming with worry. "Have you turned on the news?"

Nausea overtaking her, stomach tightly clenched Lailah had never known a conversation centered around that question to have a happy ending. "No." she breathed in a whisper searching around for the tv remote.

"Lailah," Aishwarya said after a minute. "...It's Yasmina, something's happening at Jurassic World." Lailah's stomach was suddenly filled with stones, her vision blurred, and ears began to ring. "We couldn't get ahold of you, and we tried to keep Sameera from finding out before you got here, but she knows."

Eyes welling with tears as she now frantically searched for the remote, couch cushions and pillows flying Lailah let out a scream of frustration and fear, allowing her phone to fall to the ground. Where was it? She wondered angrily, where was it? Wreaking havoc upon the living room, the woman left the communal space in shambles as she gave up her futile hunt, crossed the room with a burning fury and operated the device manually. After a few clicks, straining to reach the buttons on the wall mounted device she finally located a news channel. She was devastated by what she saw.

"All those people!" she sobbed to herself, sinking slowly to sit on the coffee table, unable to move from the spot where she stood. "Yasmina!"

Watching is stunned silence for several minutes, it took many attempts for Lailah to realize that her phone was ringing. "Hello?" she choked out, mind frenzily trying to pick her daughter out in the recordings of massive crowds, promising herself that Yasmina was alright, and that she would recognize her immediately.

"Lailah," Aishwarya said, her tone still caring, but firm. "I know you're going through a lot right now, and this must be very frightening for you, but Sameera needs you. Please, she's so afraid, and there's not much more that I can do for her. Please Lailah, she needs her mother, if you need me to I can come get you..."

Swallowing hard past her pain, Lailah found her footing, trembling as she scooped her handbag, keys, and hijab off the counter. "I'm on my way." she said, mustering what little strength she had left in her.

-8:09pm DST-

Jamil sat in the student library studying, if that's what you could call it. Commiting laws, and historic trials of notoriety and infamy to memory was a tedious and time consuming task. Surrounded by stacks of books, notebooks, sticky notes, and recipe cards scattered into the mix made the greying man stand out in stark comparison to his peers who worked with a meticulous organization, notes stored on laptops and tablets as they worked quietly beside him, conferring with one another from time to time.

Heaving a sigh, the man struggled with a sudden, overwhelming sense of doubt. What if this was all a huge mistake? He wondered, comparing himself to the rest of the class. What if he didn't have what it takes? He was too old, and too tired, and too stupid to learn anything new, he should have stayed in construction, he brooded, it was all he was good at anyways.

Floating by on part of the family's savings, scholarships for late life studies, and a sizable student loan his wife had created a payment plan for, promising it wouldn't take the rest of his life to pay off Jamil questioned his sanity, but never once his wife's love or support.

No, he thought shaking the thoughts loose from his head, he had this, and it wouldn't be long, maybe another year or so before he would graduate. Then he could go for the bar. Inshallah, God willing, everything would work out, and he could finally be the kind of father his children could look up to, and husband his wife deserved. Why she ever thought to marry the uneducated, highschool dropout who went straight to work doing manual labor he had been, was beyond Jamil's comprehension. She was young, and beautiful though, and here on a student visa, he remembered when his family had been asked to host her for at least a year, if only he had known what an impact that woman was going to make on him, he wouldn't have been so vocal in his protests.

She was too good for him, he often thought that, and he was right every time.

The thought of returning to work, crossed his mind briefly. They were managing fine, but it wasn't exactly fair. Pushing the musing aside Jamil instead tried to return to his studies, but he was going crosseyed with all of the reading. He was burning out. There was another mock hearing soon, and he wanted to be ready for it, but part of being prepared meant being sharp and clear headed enough to present your case and argue against the opposition, no matter what they threw against you. He couldn't exactly do that burning the candle at both ends, and had been in the library since ten that morning.

Admitting defeat for the night the man tidied his notes, offering books to colleges, and re-shelving those they found undesirable. Bidding goodnight to his much younger classmates, who chugged down the caffeine as though it were their very lifeblood Jamil made his way to the car, where he dowsily spared a moment to rest his head on the steering wheel. What did he honestly think he was doing? He found himself wondering again, with a yawn, and was it worth it to turn his family's life upsidedown just to gain a little self-esteem, or was it far too late into the game to try and improve his lot? It was just nerves, he assured himself, he tended to grow morose prior to exams and mock trials.

Starting the car he pulled out his phone to call Lailah and let her know that he was on his way home, and offer to pick something up for the two of them for dinner. He stared perplexed for several minutes at the phone, before turning up the ringer. What the hell was going on? he wondered. Dialing his wife as he pulled out of the parking lot, he was startled by the sound of her tear strained voice when she answered.

"Jamil," she whimpered. "It's Yasmina, I'm at Aishwarya and Rajiv's come quickly."

"What's going on?" the man barked anxiety mounting, foot pushing down with a steadily increasing pressure on the gas as he spoke. "What the hell happened to Yasmina."

"I'll explain when you get here-" Lailah started.

"No, you'll explain now!" Jamil bellowed dark spots creeping into the edge of his vision blood pressure rising rapidly, his pulse hammering in his throat and head.

"It's that baba?" Sameera shrieked in the background. "Baba!" she wailed, bursting out in heartbreaking wail.

"Please, just get here!" Lailah demanded over the bone chilling sound of their child's weeping before hanging up.

Speeding, and without any definitive answers, the man dreaded the worst. One of those boys had hurt his daughter, he thought seething with rage, or some accident had befallen her, she was hurt, possibly dead. Yasmina had talked about ziplines, rock climbing, and personal interactions with gigantic animals that should had been left as Allah and nature intended them, awe-inspiring memories of time long past. Teeth grit sharply he raced to where his family needed him most.

Pounding on the door with his fist, it was an ashen faced Rajiv who answered, quietly ushering Jamil in. From the doorway the man could see his wife and daughter staring with swollen, watery eyes at the television, blankets draped over their shoulders, steaming mugs in their hands. Jayanti sitting on the floor beside them, her head on Sameera's knee.

"We sent the other girls home," Aishwarya started, while at the same time her husband interjected with, "We're so sorry, we tried to reach you."

"What happened?" Jamil asked, unable to pry his gaze from his family.

Rajiv reached out to brace the other man, his dark eyes flooded with a compassionate sorrow. "Jurassic World is being evacuated."

"What?" Jamil snapped angrily, the thought hadn't occured to him that the problem could be so broad and encompassing. "Why?"

Rajiv pressed his lips together tightly before speaking, "The dinosaurs have escaped, and cannot be contained. ...There have been deaths."

The man's knees buckled, but his friend steadied him. "Go," Aishwarya instructed, softly touching his face with the palm of her hand on his cheek then forehead, as though checking his temperature. "Have a seat." she instructed. "I'll bring you some tea."

Wandering on unsteady limbs to the couch Jamil sank to the cushions, failing to make clear sense if what he was witnessing. After a moment his wife found his hand, their fingers intertwining. Sameera who noticed his presence a few minutes later, set her mug to the floor before clamoring over her mother who hissed at the pain of spilt tea on her leg. Sameera curled herself into a tight ball in her father's chest, and there began to cry anew. Holding to them as Lailah's head came to his shoulder Jamil found himself devoid, detached, and unable able to take it all in as he sat there and watched a man-made hell in earth, knowing that his precious flower was trapped at the heart of it all.