ACE DRIVES LIKE he’s auditioning for Fast and Furious, and I'm the asshole passenger who keeps yelling "Faster!" while I'm frantically tapping on my phone.
Devon:SOMEONE EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW
Devon:HELLO???
Devon:WHY IS NO ONE ANSWERING
Devon:I SWEAR TO GOD IF THIS IS A PRANK
Devon:BECKER I KNOW YOU CAN SEE THESE
Nothing. Radio silence except for the occasional "omw" from various team members.
"They're ignoring me," I announce.
Ace takes a turn way too fast, and I grab the oh-shit handle. "Maybe they're busy."
"Busy doing what?"
Ace shrugs as he runs a yellow light. "You read the same texts I did."
"'The roof is gone'explains nothing. Roofs don't just leave. They don't pack their bags and fuck off to Bermuda."
Ace's mouth twitches like he's fighting a smile, which is rude because I'm having a crisis. "We'll find out in three minutes."
"Three minutes is too long. I could die in three minutes."
"You're not going to die."
"You don't know that. I could have an aneurysm from stress. Is that a thing? Stress aneurysms?"
"Devon."
"What?"
"Breathe."
I take a breath. It doesn't help. I go back to my phone, scrolling through the chat again like maybe I missed some crucial detail that explains how a roof just ceases to exist.
We screech into the shelter parking lot—literally screech, Ace's tires making ticket-worthy sounds—and I'm out of the car before we fully stop.
"Devon!" Ace yells after me.
"I'M GOING IN!"
Washington's car pulls in right behind us, and he and Leila emerge looking as confused as I feel.
"What happened?" Leila asks, hurrying over.
"No idea. The group chat's been useless."
"I got seventeen texts that just said 'emergency' with no context," Washington adds, and he looks more stressed than I've ever seen him, which is saying something because this man's default state is mild concern.
We all rush toward the entrance as a unit, a small army of worried humans about to face whatever hell awaits inside.
The second the door opens, we're assaulted by sound.
Every. Single. Dog. Is barking.
