"…and then I was about to ask Juliet if she needed my help with solving those problems the math teacher gave us on the study guide, and then this loud-ass freakin' BANG came from down the hall and I nearly pissed myself from the loudness of it—and I'm not going to lie, I just booked it out of there, no hesitation!"

"Oh, I know," Juliet sardonically noted, "You left me in the dust, I was only barely able to catch up to you once everybody started running. Honestly, you should try out for the football team with how fast you run."

Dana was chuckling at the quip. She had been moping in silence up until now, but the auburnette could somehow find humor in their situation, and it made Kate a bit envious at how easy it was for Dana to do so. Although, maybe she's got reason to be more downtrodden, considering what she witnessed.

Speaking of—

"So…Kate," Juliet suggested cautiously. She didn't even need to put a question to it. Marsh sighed, and prepared to recite what's been in her head the past few minutes.

"Wait, what's going on?" Warren pinched his brows in confusion. He wasn't there when Kate made the promise, but it mattered not; better late than never.

"I…ended up staying inside when it happened."

Shocked expressions surrounded her, "Yo, what—?!"

"Holy shit, you stayed in there?!" Warren motioned to the main building over yonder from where they sat, "Jesus, Kate—"

"Please, guys, let me finish," she raised a hand to quell their reactions, and they listened intently, "I have to start at the beginning for this to make sense. I was in photography class with Max, and it had just ended. I saw that she was very stressed out, and tried talking to her, but she…well, she was acting really weird, and wouldn't give me the chance. Normally I don't like being pushy, but I was adamant about talking to her—until Jefferson asked to speak with me, and I had to stay behind."

"I hate when teachers do that," Juliet piped up, "Just when you think you're free from their boring lectures—"

"Shhh!" Warren and Dana cut her off, eager to hear the rest of the story. The reporter grumbled about the harsh reply, but said nothing more.

"…I was walking out into the hall when Max texted me," Kate resumed, "and she seemed to know what was going to happen beforehand. She told me to hide and not run, and that something would happen in the bathroom. It was weird."

"She knew?" Warren inquired. Kate decided it was better to show them her text messages with Max rather than explain it herself. Each of her friends got to see it, and each one worriedly frowned at the evidence.

"The gunshots went off, everyone started running, but I stayed and hid. Then, I saw Nathan Prescott flee from the bathrooms, and he had a gun in his hand—he hid it in his jacket and went outside with everyone else. I waited, and some seconds after, Madsen the security guard came from outside, and he rushed to the bathroom. He came back out carrying someone out, but I couldn't tell who it was."

"What about Max?" Dana nervously queried. She was answered, "I went to the bathroom once Madsen left, and I found Max inside. She was shot…bleeding from the knee. I tried to help her at first, but she begged me to listen to what she had to say."

A pause. Kate glanced at her friends, each of them silently asking her the same foreboding question. Knowing they were all on the same page, she finally spoke, "She told me to take her backpack, and her journal which was inside. She told me to stay away from the police and to not implicate Nathan, even though I know it was him who shot her, and that other person. And lastly, she…"

Take this message, guard it with your life. Do not tell anyone.

"…told me to read her journal, that it would explain how she knew, and why she warned me."

"Did you read it?"

"Last night," Marsh replied. She leaned over, and searched through her messenger bag for something in particular, "but it only left me with more questions than answers."

The blonde pulled out the journal in all its glory, the others eyeing it with curiosity. She opened onto the page she was looking for, then set it down and turned it to face her friends, "Max told me to read it and that it would make sense, but I don't know where to start. I figured that, if there's any validity to what she's written, then maybe you guys would know."

She directed them to the recent passages, and they read. And once they were done, each of her friends had an invigorated interest in Max's words.

"Rachel Amber…I remember her," Juliet snapped her fingers to spark her memory, "She was that one girl that used to hang out with everyone. Dana, wasn't she in that stage play we did, way back in sophomore year?"

"Yeah, she was," Dana recounted, "Rachel was one of the primary characters, and you were supposed to be the other, but I think they had to get a replacement for you since you got stuck in traffic trying to make it on time."

"Oh, yeah. That shit was not fun," Watson grumbled, "Who did they even pick as my replacement? I can't remember her name—"

"Chloe."

Both girls turned to Kate. Eyebrows were raised at the mention of her name.

"Chloe…?"

"Chloe Price. Max's childhood friend," silver eyes were glancing at something far, far away, "Max told me about how she was looking for her, trying to rekindle their friendship after five years of silence. Max, she…she left Chloe behind, and wanted to atone for not reaching out to her for so long. Now she's stuck in a hospital, and Chloe is…"

Kate snaps back to the present, and asks of the two girls, "Do either of you know what Chloe looks like, by chance?"

"Nah, got no clue," Juliet shook her head, "Last I saw her was the stage play, and that was a few years ago."

"I saw her fairly recently," Dana supplied, "She was hanging up posters down by Main Street, and I happened to catch sight of her whilst I was out for lunch with my family. I think it was her, at least—she changed a lot since I saw her last. She dyed her hair this very bright blue color, that's how I noticed her."

Kate's heart sank to her stomach. She shivered with dreadful realization. It seemed to physically hit her, for she slumped in her seat.

"…Kate? What's wrong?"

"The person Madsen was carrying," she whispered, "…they had bright blue hair."

There's a long, painful silence.

"…you mean, she was…?"

Kate absently nodded, "I…I don't know for certain that it was Chloe, but I saw bright blue hair. I saw it."

"…oh, shit."

"Wait, did Max know that Chloe was going to be there?" Dana wondered aloud, "Is that why she was stressed out?"

"I don't know," Kate scratched an invisible itch in her bun, "I didn't bother to ask her about it. She just told me to read her journal and do what it says."

"So, if we find out what happened to Rachel, we'll be able to get back at Nathan for what he did to Max and Chloe," Juliet deduced, and smacked her hand enthusiastically upon her knee, "If that's the case, then sign me up!"

"I-it's alright, you don't have to—"

"Oh hell no, I'm more than ready to do something about this," Dana cut right through Kate's doubts, "I've always wondered what happened to Rachel since she disappeared, and I don't like to think that she's…gone…but if we can find justice for her whilst also taking down Nathan in the process, then that's something I'm willing to do."

"Thank you, guys," Kate showed her appreciation with a relieved smile, "I feared that I'd have to do this alone, but I'm glad I have you all to help me."

"Of course, we're gonna solve this mystery as a team, and not leave each other behind," then Juliet snickered at the silent one amongst them, "ain't that right, Warren?"

Warren had been glued to the journal since Kate gave them the chance to read it. He was mumbling to himself, lost in his own head. It took Juliet snapping her fingers in his face to bring him back.

"Hey, you good?"

"…time travel," he muttered, then sharpened his studious glare, "The implications of what Max—of what future Max has given us—this is unlike anything I've ever heard of. Sure, it sounds like a schizophrenic rant when you first look at it, but if these prophecies are true—"

He grinned with determination, and finally looked to them, "We might just be among the first people to communicate with someone else through different timelines. That alone is enough to convince me. Let's get to the bottom of this, for Max."

"For Max," they agreed, each of them nodding their heads.

It was settled. The team was formed, and their mission was made clear. They had only to go forth, and uncover the truth. The journal was their guide, and they followed its clues and commands to the first destination of their journey.

The Two Whales Diner was a quaint establishment. Kate came here with family from time to time since this place was usually the most affordable. Having three children to feed was quite a hassle for the Marsh elders when going out to eat, especially when one of them was adamant about their preferred restaurant of choice. Kate never made a fuss about where they went, but she always preferred the Two Whales to the other fast food places in town. It was easier to go here for Kate's family since her mother was a waitress for the establishment, and would be given exclusive discounts as added compensation for her hard work. There was also a certain feel to the diner that gave it a comparative advantage, a sort of correctness to its aesthetic that goes perfectly with the small town's ambience.

That, and she was a sucker for buttermilk pancakes, the smell of which was baked into the air whenever one walked in through the entrance.

The four of them picked a booth, and began peering over the menu in search of their favorite dishes. Warren was baited into a half-hearted argument with Juliet over if the eggs benedict was better than the Belgian waffles, nitty-gritty details like the inclusion of bacon or the specific kind of syrup the diner used was fiercely contested. A waitress came by within the minute to serve them.

"Welcome to the Two Whales, my name is Joyce, an' I'll be your waitress for today," she drawled, but everyone could hear the somber tone with which these words were delivered, "What can I get y'all started with, anything to drink?"

Waters were ordered all around. Kate's curiosity got the better of her, and she dared to ask the waitress writing down their choice of entrees, "Excuse me, ma'am—I don't mean to pry, but you sound troubled. Is everything alright?"

The older woman shuffled anxiously where she stood, "I'm…I'm so sorry, I've just been trying to keep my head up and get through today. My daughter, she…she was hospitalized not even a day ago."

A knowing glance passed between the quartet, and Kate spoke on their behalf, "We're sorry to hear that. We're actually here for much the same reason. Our friend, she was sent to the hospital after what happened at Blackwell."

There was a television on the opposite side of the diner, nearest to the small collection of bar stools the diner offered. Words were hard to discern because of the lowered volume and louder ambience, but the headline was clear to see. Talk was already spreading about the terrible accident that occurred on Monday afternoon. It's been a non-stop cycle since it first broke, since news like this was few and far between, and news corporations couldn't help themselves over milking a story for as long as it captivated people's attention. It was no doubt that Joyce had heard the same words spoken by news anchors for the whole day.

And thus, she gasped, "Why, that's terrible! I can only imagine what her parents are probably feeling—is she close to y'all?"

"Yes, she is," Kate replied first, "She's my closest friend. I don't know if you've ever seen her come passing by, or if you know her, but her name is Max. Max Caulfield."

There was a moment when Joyce's sullen look seemed to blossom with recognition, and a thoughtful inflection in her voice gave an answer to Kate, "Why, yes, I do know her. My daughter, Chloe, she and Max were best friends growing up. Such a small world, that is."

"Yes, ma'am," Dana piped up, "That's why we're here, to be honest. We came down to eat here because this is Max's favorite restaurant."

"Well, I'll tell you, I've not seen head nor hair of that girl for some time now," Joyce shook her head in sorrow, "And to hear that she's in the hospital like Chloe…I ought to talk to Max's parents about this. It wouldn't be right to ignore them now, not after what's happened."

"Ma'am, if I may suggest," Warren entered the conversation, "all of us plan on visiting Max in a few days, once the doctors say she's recovered, but if it's alright with you, we'd like to offer our condolences to your daughter as well. Max means a lot to us, and helping someone who knows her better than we do would be an honor. Is that alright with you?"

Joyce sighed in appreciation, a hand of hers resting upon her heart, "Why, that's rather sweet of y'all. I…I don't know when I'll get the chance to go to the hospital, I have to keep my hours up or else my family'll be in a tight spot. I'm sure y'all know what it's like to have to live paycheck to paycheck."

The quartet nodded. They have seen the tired looks of their mothers wrought with insecurity, have seen their fathers trudge back home with their exhausted gaits. They knew well of restless nights and the aching hunger of skipped meals.

However, Joyce seemed to have a sudden change of heart, and she resoundingly declared, "I can't thank y'all enough for your kindness and support now. I tell you what—I'd like to invite y'all over for dinner later tonight, it's the least I can do after the kindness y'all have given me—"

"Ah, you don't have to do that, ma'am," Kate tried to dissuade, but was countered swiftly, "Nonsense! Any friend of Max is a friend of mine. Good people ought to stick together, through thick and thin, and I'm sure Max would appreciate us getting to know each other. In fact, I'm fairly certain I might know of y'all already."

"…ma'am?" they asked, confused.

"You," Joyce gestured to Dana, "Would you happen to be John and Phyrra's daughter?"

"Y-yes, ma'am," Ward confirmed, "How did you guess that?"

"You've got the same hair style as your mother, and the same hair color as your father. They had come by last week on a date," the woman explained, "They sat at the stools by the bar, and were absolutely smitten with each other. I tended to them, and they took every opportunity to talk about you. I swear to high Heaven, they always had the time to keep gushing about how proud they are of you."

Dana flushed in embarrassment, and ducked her gaze. Joyce turned her attention to another of the quartet, "Come to think of it, your hairstyle also reminds me of this one customer who has a keen eye for our fried donuts."

Warren chuckled knowingly, "Ah, shoot—yep, that's definitely my Dad. He's got a helluva sweet tooth, especially if Mom's not around to keep him in check. Good guess, ma'am."

"And you, dear," Juliet looked up to the inquisitive woman, who noted after a few seconds, "I've seen that sharp look before. A journalist once came by with that same look, eager to hear what I had to say about that whole mess with the fisherman's strike a few weeks ago. I wouldn't be that far off from the truth, am I?"

"You…you're right," the reporter admitted, "My father's a journalist. You've got some crazy intuition, ma'am."

"Hold on, I'm not done yet," finally Joyce looked to Kate, patiently awaiting her turn of this impromptu guessing game. The older woman smiled softly at the blonde's polite posture and grace, "Your manners, they remind me of someone I know personally. You wouldn't happen to be Evelyn Marsh's daughter, would you?"

Kate stared up in wonder, "Yes, I am. How…?"

"Your mother and I share shifts during the weekends," Joyce beamed at the thought of it, "She and I have become good friends, what with our shared experience working here. I remember when she first started here, she was afraid of speaking up for herself against rowdy customers for fear of being scolded by management. Polite to a fault, if I had to describe it."

Kate couldn't help but be impressed by this woman's knack for first impressions. It really was a small world here, in this quiet town.

But then, the blonde's stomach grumbled, loudly. She hunched her back, and flinched in embarrassment.

"Oh, I'm so sorry—hold on now, I'll get your orders goin'," Joyce made a hasty exit, shifting quickly behind the counter and into the kitchen, her Southern drawl coming alive to rouse the cooks from their slump.

A chuckling came, and Kate gave a suspicious glance to Juliet, "Now that is some comedic timing!"

"Guys, are we…are we taking her up on that offer she gave us?" Dana wondered, "I mean, I'm not against free food and all that, but isn't this a bit sudden? She's practically a stranger to us."

"We should, though," Warren interjected, "If we can find out the connection between Max and Rachel, then we'll be one step closer to figuring this whole thing out."

"…that's assuming there's a connection to begin with," Juliet pondered, "Rachel went missing before Max ever set foot in Blackwell. There's no way Max could have met her."

"But Chloe might have met Rachel," Graham offered, "and we know that she's close to Max. I'm telling you guys, talking to Chloe is going to help us big time with finding out what happened to Rachel."

"…if she can talk to us," Kate muttered. She'd seen the terrible state Chloe was in when being carried out by Madsen, and was not oblivious to the dreadful probability of the girl not making it through. Where would that put them? Would they have to rely on the journal, and nothing else?

Their food was quick to arrive. Joyce was a master when it came to carrying the plates, and skillfully slid them onto the table in front of them.

"Right, that should be the whole of it," Joyce smiled, "Now, about that invitation: I get off of my shift in the next couple hours, so feel free to stop by any time after then. My home is on Cherry Avenue, a blue two-story with white accents, y'can't miss it. An' don't none of you worry about curfew, I'll make sure to have y'all back at Blackwell before then."

"Thank you, ma'am," Kate answered with a respectful nod, "We appreciate it."

"Please," the woman dissuaded, "Call me Joyce. I prefer it that way…"

The quartet noted the way Joyce trailed off, her attention fixed upon something outside. They turned to face the window—

Clouds of dark grey were swirling in ominous vortexes over the black waters of the bay. These clouds were gathered in such a way that the town was not covered in their dreary embrace, but the bay was shaded from all sunlight, and seemed to boil with sinister intent. Winds could be felt through the glass, whipping up plumes of sand from the shore.

"Oh my God!"

"It's a hurricane, take cover!"

"Mommy, I'm scared—!"

Kate was transfixed. It was coming true—the first prophecy was being proven correct. As the funnel touched the water, she felt her skin bloom into goosebumps, the disbelief morphing into subtle dread. When the water spout struck the outermost pier along its path and then broke apart instantly thereafter, Kate let go of a breath that she had been holding for the entire time.

"My goodness," Joyce regained her voice, "I've not seen something like that happen before. Lord have mercy, I feared the worst was coming!"

They all did. Lunch passed them quickly, their appetites curtailed. The journal led them onwards, to the unknown.