Page 146 of Sweet Nightmare

“Yeah, of course,” I tell him, because I am even though my head is now throbbing.

He doesn’t look convinced, and neither does Remy, who comes up right behind him.

“You need to open up,” Jude tells me in a voice so gentle I barely recognize it.

“Wow, you really do have all the best lines.”

“She’s coherent enough to give you shit,” Remy says dryly. “I figure that’s got to be a good sign.”

“For someone else, maybe. But she could give me shit in her sleep.”

But Jude must decide I really am okay after all because he lets it drop.

It’s still chaos. The wind and rain whipping through the room ensure that. Despite Danson getting the room under partial control, the low growls and dominance challenges continue.

There are several unconscious—and worse—bodies scattered around the room that my friends and I aren’t responsible for.

I ignore my churning stomach, swallow down the bile attempting to crawl back up my esophagus, and try to figure out where we’re supposed to go from here.

Danson is currently climbing on top of a table in the middle of the room, a bullhorn in his hands—which I’m hoping means he has a plan, because I am fresh out of ideas.

Ms. Aguilar is right below him, as she shushes students and tries to get them to pay attention. None of them pay any attention to her at all, but they do at least quiet down when Danson calls for attention through the megaphone.

“First of all, I want to start by saying that what just happened here can never happen again.” He pauses for effect and takes his time looking from group to group. “If you believe nothing else that I tell you today, believe this. This storm is going to get worse before it gets better.”

His words ring through the room, and though some people scoff, the majority of students quickly grow serious. “The eye of the hurricane hasn’t even reached us yet, which means that whatever rainbands come through next are going to be worse than what we’re already experiencing. They will have harder rains, faster winds, and more than likely worse lightning and thunder.”

As if to underscore his words, lightning flashes across the sky at the same time a huge gust of wind rips from one end of the room to the other. It topples chairs, sends several students in its path careening into walls and each other, and nearly overturns the table Danson is standing on.

He manages to jump down just before it goes sliding wildly across the room, but the wind catches him and he nearly goes with it.

“What are we going to do?” Ember asks uneasily. “We can’t stay in a building with its windows blown out if things are going to get as bad as he says they are.”

If it really is a category five, half this island is going to get leveled. And we’re stuck here, a bunch of sitting ducks with nowhere to go and nothing to do but to kill each other.

The thought chills me to the bone as I try to figure out where we can go that will be safe. The dungeon in the admin building would be the logical choice…if the place wasn’t filled with nightmare monsters waiting for fresh prey.

The old dance hall has a lower level, too, but no one has been in there in years—not since my mom closed it up after students kept getting caught doing “illicit activities” there.

Other than that, our choices are limited. Maybe the gym, because it’s got no windows or exposed doors. But that also means we’ll all be sitting around in the dark. The library has huge book stacks that can be pushed to cover up windows from the inside. Not sure if that will actually do any good against one-hundred-and-fifty-mile-an-hour winds, but it’s a nice thought.

Danson finally gets his bearings and manages to command everyone’s attention.

“We can’t stay here,” he says. “Not with the broken windows and its proximity to the ocean. We’ll be safer inland. Leaving here won’t be easy—it was rough a couple of hours ago, and conditions have only declined since then. But staying here will only get more and more dangerous, and the storm is getting worse with every passing minute.”

“Forget anger management teacher,” Simon says with a roll of his eyes. “This guy should be a motivational speaker.”

“To be fair, I’m feeling very motivated right now,” Mozart tells him with a grimace.

“Aren’t we all?” Remy asks dryly.

“So Ms. Aguilar and I have decided that we’re going to move all of you to the gym,” Danson continues. “It has close proximity to the cafeteria so we can get food moved over right away, plus it has no windows and is surrounded by other buildings to help block the wind. But to get there, we’re going to need every single one of you to cooperate.”

Again, he pauses, and this time he makes a point of looking the room’s biggest troublemakers directly in the eyes. “We need help picking up your remaining personal belongings, supplies, and whatever food we have left so we can take them with us. Meet us by the front doors in five minutes.”

He takes a second to clear his throat before reiterating, “We’re leaving here in five minutes, so there will be absolutely no fighting with one another. We need to get to the gym before the storm gets any worse, and we have no time for any more hostility. Do I make myself clear?”

When no one answers, he narrows his eyes and asks again, “Do I make myself clear?”

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