CHRONOS GLITCH

The sky was dark and heavy. Storm clouds rolled in, and thunder cracked like a warning out in the city. Rain hit the streets hard, turning everything slick and cold. The traffic was stuck, and the glow from traffic lights and neon signs blurred through the rain. Josh, a 20-year-old university student, sat behind the wheel of his old delivery truck. His hoodie was soaked, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. He looked tired—like he hadn’t slept enough lately. His eyes flicked over the dashboard and then back to the slow crawl of cars ahead. *Why does everything have to mess up tonight?* His voice was quiet, a mix of frustration and worry. Driving slow through the rain meant he’d be late again, and his boss wouldn’t be happy. His paycheck was already thin, and every minute lost was money down the drain. A sudden flash of lightning lit up the road in front of him. His breath caught. A tight feeling gripped his chest. Sweat started on his forehead, and he blinked, trying to focus. The noise in his ears grew, and his vision blurred. *Keep calm. Breathe.* But before he could finish the thought, a huge lightning bolt exploded just ahead, closer than ever. Josh’s hand shot to the door handle. He yanked the door open and stumbled out. The world spun white and bright like he was inside the lightning itself. Then everything went quiet. He was no longer on the highway. Instead, cold, soft earth pressed against his hands and knees. He was in a forest—dark, dense, and strange. Tall trees with twisted branches reached up and out, blocking much of the sky, which was filled with unfamiliar stars. His breath was fast and shaky. His vision swam. The panic didn’t leave; he gagged and threw up onto the damp ground. The only sounds were birds and crickets… and then, a twig snapped. Josh scrambled upright, heart racing. He looked around, eyes wide and searching. There was nothing but shadows around, no other people in sight. “Who’s there?” His voice wavered. “Hello?” He picked up a stick from the ground, unsure of what to do. From the darkness beside his truck, eyes shone. A huge animal moved silently, circling. It was a tiger—but different. Bigger, stronger, like a beast built for hunting, not just survival. Josh froze. *Run. Don’t think. Run.* He darted into the shadows of the trees, stumbling and limping. The tiger chased, claws tearing at his skin and clothes. Behind a tree, Josh gasped, clutching his wounds as the tiger followed slowly, savoring the hunt. His mind raced back to stories he’d heard—of creatures too big and wild to be real. The tiger lunged again and Josh barely dodged. He spotted a heavy rock on the ground and, desperate, swung it at the beast. It yowled, scratching him deep in return. Suddenly, the tiger slipped on something wet—rotting matter—and hit its head hard on a fallen log. Josh’s heart pounded. This was his chance. He hammered the creature again and again until it finally went still, its blood splashing across his face. Exhausted and bleeding, Josh dragged himself back to the truck and slammed the door shut. His hands shook as he looked out over the empty forest. Where was the road? Where was help? Only endless trees and shadows. He found some medicine in the glove box and swallowed a few pills without even checking what they were for. Then tore his hoodie to make a bandage. Night fell. The forest was quiet, but alive. Morning came cold and hungry. Josh stepped outside carefully. The tiger’s body lay nearby. The thought of eating it made him sick. He searched the ground for anything edible and found wild mushrooms. Memories warned: *“Many deadly here.”* He hesitated. “I didn’t survive THAT to die from mushrooms.” He headed back to the truck, searching inside until he found a pack of dried noodles. He made a small fire, boiled water in a pan, and ate. The warmth gave him hope. Sitting near the fire, Josh thought hard. "What now? Why me? Why this place?” His gaze settled on the forest, the tiger carcass. “I don’t understand how I got here. But I won’t die here.” He sighed, then smiled a little. “Food… shelter… water. Three things to survive. I’ve got food for now. Shelter is next.” He laughed softly, “Guess I’m talking to myself already.” He gathered broken branches and sharpened bones from the tiger, setting traps around the truck’s perimeter. Far away, hidden behind a waterfall’s roar, Emily opened her eyes. Nineteen years old, her fiery hair stuck to her wet face. She was in a small cave, cold and dark but safe for now. She moved quietly, fishing slender fish from the water and roasting them over a small flame. Her clothes were soaked and worn, but she moved with practiced calm—strong, careful. Suddenly, she stiffened. Something moved beyond the waterfall’s curtain. A barely audible sound, a whisper in the mist. She tightened her grip on a small spear, listening. Then silence.