The World Outside
1654 Words
By the time the teachers got everyone back inside, nobody was pretending this was a normal school day anymore.
The boy in the courtyard was still there.
The teachers had pulled the blinds over the windows, but that did nothing to erase the image from my mind. His body had become stone in seconds. One moment he had been running after a basketball; the next, he was standing exactly where he had fallen, gray and motionless beneath the rain.
I kept thinking about how ordinary he had looked before it happened.
That was the part I couldn't stop thinking about.
People were crying in the hallways. Students were trying to call their parents over and over, even though the network kept dropping. Teachers moved from classroom to classroom, telling everyone to stay away from the doors and windows.
I sat in the chemistry room with my phone beside an open notebook.
I had written down everything I could remember.
12:07 p.m. — rain began.
12:09 p.m. — student exposed.
12:09 p.m. — petrification complete.
I stared at the numbers.
There had to be something behind them.
There always was.
Chemistry had taught me that seemingly impossible things usually became less impossible once you understood what you were looking at.
“Nora?”
Mr. Collins was standing beside my desk.
“I’m fine.”
“You've been writing since we came back.”
“I’m trying to find a pattern.”
He looked at the page. “In the rain?”
“In everything.”
I turned the notebook toward him. “The weather warning came before the rain started. If we record the warnings, the starting times, how long the rain lasts and the intervals between each event, maybe we can predict when it happens again.”
Mr. Collins studied my notes.
“That’s a big maybe.”
“I know.”
“But it's a good maybe.”
He pulled a chair over and sat beside me. “Keep recording everything. Temperature. Duration. Time between rainfall events. Anything you can get your hands on. We don't have enough data yet, but you're thinking in the right direction.”
I nodded and added another column to the page.
Before I could write anything else, every phone in the room vibrated at once.
The sound was so sudden that several people jumped.
An emergency alert filled my screen.
WESTBRIDGE ACADEMY HAS BEEN DESIGNATED A PROTECTED EMERGENCY SHELTER.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then the room erupted.
“Protected?”
“What does that mean?”
“Are we allowed to leave?”
“Where are our parents?”
Mr. Collins stood. “Everyone, stay calm.”
Another alert appeared.
ALL STUDENTS AND STAFF MUST REMAIN INDOORS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
A few seconds later, the television screens mounted around the school flickered on.
The principal's voice came through the speakers.
“All students and staff are to report to the auditorium immediately. Teachers, please escort your classes.”
I shoved my notebook into my bag.
When I reached the corridor, I found Adrian waiting near the stairs.
His hair was still damp, and there was a small cut along his cheek that I hadn't noticed before.
“What happened to your face?”
He touched the cut. “Basketball hoop.”
I stared at him.
“It attacked me.”
A laugh escaped before I could stop it.
His expression changed when he heard it, and for a second, neither of us said anything.
“I was looking for you,” he said.
My smile faded.
“You were?”
“Yeah.”
There were hundreds of students moving through the corridor around us. Somehow, that answer made the hallway feel strangely quiet.
“Why?”
Adrian looked at me for a moment.
“Because I wanted to know you were okay.”
I didn't know what to say to that.
So I looked down at my notebook.
He noticed.
“You're doing the thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Trying to solve something because you're scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Nora.”
I looked at him.
His voice became quieter.
“Everyone is scared.”
That was when I noticed his hands were trembling.
Only slightly.
But they were.
“You're scared too,” I said.
“Terrified.”
The honesty of it caught me off guard.
Adrian Cole was usually the person who seemed to know what to do. On the basketball court, in class, surrounded by people—he always seemed certain of himself.
Now he just looked like a boy who had watched another boy turn to stone.
“I don't know what's happening,” he admitted. “And I hate that.”
“I don't know either.”
His eyes dropped to my notebook.
“But you're going to figure it out.”
It wasn't a question.
I smiled faintly. “I'm going to try.”
He held out his hand.
I stared at it.
“Come on,” he said. “We're supposed to go to the auditorium.”
I slipped my hand into his.
His fingers closed around mine.
Warm.
Steady.
For a moment, I forgot about the rain.
We walked toward the auditorium together, and neither of us let go.
The auditorium was packed.
Students filled almost every seat, while teachers stood along the walls. Some students were crying. Others were frantically calling their families. A few were sitting completely still, staring at the floor as if they were waiting for someone to tell them this had all been a terrible mistake.
The screen at the front of the room flickered.
A government official appeared.
“We are receiving reports of a widespread environmental event affecting multiple regions,” she said. “At this time, the cause remains unknown.”
The footage changed.
A city street appeared.
Rain poured between rows of abandoned cars.
Several people stood frozen in the middle of the road.
Stone.
Not one statue.
Dozens.
A girl near the front covered her mouth.
The footage changed again.
An ambulance sat sideways across a highway, its doors hanging open. Cars stretched behind it as far as the camera could see.
Another video showed people crowded beneath the roof of a gas station, terrified to step onto the road.
Then came the footage that made the entire auditorium silent.
Statues lined a residential street.
A man stood beside a parked car, one hand still resting on the door.
A woman was frozen halfway up a staircase outside a building.
A child stood alone beside a playground.
I couldn't look away.
“These images were recorded within the last three hours,” the official continued. “We are urging all citizens to remain indoors. Direct contact with the rain results in rapid petrification.”
The screen showed another street.
“However, we have also confirmed that surfaces and objects exposed to the rain may remain hazardous after the rainfall ends.”
A murmur spread through the auditorium.
The official continued.
“Do not touch rainwater. Do not touch exposed surfaces. Do not attempt to retrieve individuals who have been exposed. Anyone who has been outside must not enter a protected building until emergency authorities provide further instructions.”
Someone shouted from the crowd.
“What about our families?”
The woman on the screen paused.
“We understand that many of you are unable to contact loved ones. Emergency services are overwhelmed. Please remain indoors.”
The broadcast ended.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then the crying started.
Adrian's hand tightened around mine.
I looked at him.
“Your family?”
He nodded.
“I can't reach them.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.”
He looked down at our joined hands.
Then he looked back at me.
“Just stay with me.”
My heart gave an uncomfortable little jump.
“I am.”
“I mean it, Nora.”
“I know.”
He stepped closer.
Before I could think about what was happening, he pulled me into a hug.
I froze for half a second.
Then I wrapped my arms around him.
His heartbeat was fast.
So was mine.
Neither of us said anything.
For the first time since the rain began, I didn't feel like I had to pretend I wasn't afraid.
When he finally pulled away, he stayed close.
“We're getting through this,” he said.
I wanted to believe him.
More than anything, I wanted to.
After the broadcast, Mr. Collins found me near the back of the auditorium.
“Your notebook.”
I opened it.
He pointed to the calculations I'd started making from the warning times, the rainfall duration and the information coming through the emergency broadcast.
“You noticed something.”
“I think I did.”
“What?”
I showed him the page.
“If the reports coming from different areas are accurate, the rainfall isn't happening randomly.”
His expression changed.
“How certain are you?”
“Not certain yet.”
I pointed to the numbers.
“But there are intervals. And if I'm reading them correctly, the pattern is going to repeat.”
Mr. Collins looked at the calculations again.
“What are you predicting?”
“I need more data.”
He waited.
I turned another page.
“The rain could continue through midnight. Then there may be another event during the day. Maybe more than one.”
“Maybe?”
“I'm still calculating it.”
He nodded slowly.
“Then keep calculating.”
I looked toward the auditorium doors.
Beyond them was a school full of frightened people who had no idea when the rain would return.
Outside was a world that had already begun to fall apart.
And somewhere in all those numbers, I was convinced there was an answer.
I just had to find it before the rain came back.
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