“Why are you driving with your hazards on?” Carefully merging into the flow of traffic, John states simply as if talking about the weather, “I am slightly a hazard right now. I know that I’m not well and I want to communicate non-verbally to the other drivers on the road that I am a hazard.” 

He stands to admire the puzzle of misdirection he has laid. The blinking red light is subtle, set against the red canvas duffle. His eyes stare into the pulse and he ponders, “Is the blinking red a warning?” 

Colin and Anthony ask about all the new writing on the walls. “Is that permanent marker, dude? What does it mean?” and Thomas, while mostly silent, is visibly disturbed.

Words overlap and intersect, resembling the scribbling of a small child. Ink changes colors. Calm letters turning jagged and violent, then smooth again.

“Have no fear, David. I’m okay. I just need to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sadly, he would not.

With his students gone, John tries to save face, approaching Sally. Her classroom aide Amy has disappeared and they are alone. 

Something about the way she noticed his clothing seems significant to John and an overwhelming urge to record this interaction immediately rises inside him. “I need a notebook,” chases its tail in his head.

Conversations with Stephen King and Kurt Vonnegut, two of his favorite writers, at the same time! John feels very fortunate to be able to communicate so openly and honestly with so many of his heroes, alive and dead.

In his mind, he has decided that they are his Captains to help with his mission. That together they will accomplish incredible things.

He wants to help them thrive. He thinks of their eyes filled with fear as anxiety takes hold of them. His head swirls with helplessness and guilt.

Conflicted, she shows a brief flash of guilt, then hardens again as she turns to leave. John pauses, stunned, just long enough to apologize to the classroom door clicking shut.