The storm arrives without warning on the morning they leave.
The airport terminal is a chaotic sea of frustration, the air thick with the smell of burnt coffee and the low hum of disgruntled travelers.
Both groups end up stranded at the airport together, the departures board flickering with delays, rain coming sideways against the terminal windows and erasing the runway entirely.
Six hours, they're told. Minimum.
"We're on AC1113. What about you guys?" Ellie asks.
She looks over at Lucas, who is currently fighting with his luggage.
"AC1901. We're scheduled three hours after you," Lucas grunts, gesturing toward Rick, who is huddled in a corner frantically tapping at his phone. "Rick's trying to work his magic on a rebooking. Coach Danny is breathing down our necks. He wants us back an
