The sirens still howled long after the screaming stopped.
Fire trucks blocked the park entrance, red lights strobing across waterlogged pavement. Paramedics zipped black bags while stretchers rolled silently toward waiting ambulances. Helicopters circled above like vultures.
Mark sat wrapped in a towel, shivering despite the heat. Leah sat next to him, clutching her arms, her lips pale. A few feet away, four others sat on a bench—strangers, each in their own stunned silence.
An officer crouched beside Mark.
"Mark Simmons?"
He nodded.
"I'm Officer Clayburn. This is Officer Delaney. We're just gonna ask a few questions. You okay to talk?"
Mark's voice was hoarse. "I think so."
"You were one of the last people to leave the line for The Vortex?"
"I left because… because I saw it. Before it happened."
Clayburn blinked. "Saw it?"
"I had a vision," Mark said slowly. "Of the whole ride collapsing. My friends dying. Every moment exactly like it just happened."
Delaney raised a brow but didn't interrupt. Clayburn leaned in.
"Go on."
"I felt everything—fire, water, screaming. It was like I lived it, just… seconds before it happened. I freaked out. I begged them to leave. Only Leah listened."
He gestured weakly beside him. Leah gave a small nod.
Clayburn sighed and exchanged a look with his partner. "You're not crazy, son. As wild as this sounds, you're not the first one to say something like this."
Mark frowned. "What?"
Delaney leaned against the railing, arms folded. "We've been tracking incidents like this for years. Strange disasters. Survivors claiming they saw it before it happened. Like fate gives them one last warning."
"Then everyone else dies," Clayburn said grimly. "And those who lived… they don't stay lucky for long."
Mark's stomach twisted. "You mean we're still in danger?"
Delaney's silence was answer enough.
Leah looked over at the other survivors. "Who are they?"
Clayburn glanced over his clipboard. "Four others who left the park early—before it happened. Either because of small accidents, gut feelings, or… dumb luck. But they were all meant to be in that line."
Mark stood, slowly approaching the others. Their eyes met.
There was a long silence, then one of them spoke.
"I'm Zoey," said a girl with a crimson streak in her blonde hair. "I lost my bracelet on the walk up, turned around, and… didn't get back in line."
"Julian," said a boy with tired eyes. "Tripped on the stairs, sprained my ankle. Missed my slot."
"I'm Mika," said a quiet girl in a soaked tracksuit. "I was supposed to ride with my cousin. She stayed. I… didn't."
"And I'm Cole," said the last—a broad-shouldered guy who hadn't said a word until now. "Bathroom. I joked about missing my turn. I guess I did."
They all looked at Mark.
"You saw it happen?" Mika asked.
He nodded.
"Then why us?" Julian muttered. "Why are we alive?"
"Because something let us live," Mark said, voice tightening. "But it doesn't want us to stay that way."
Leah looked at the officers. "You said others had visions. Did they survive?"
Clayburn hesitated. "Not for long."
Delaney finally spoke again. "Death has a formula. A list. If you skip your turn, it circles back. And it gets creative."
Zoey swallowed. "What do we do?"
Mark looked around. At the blood-streaked pools. The stretcher wheels squeaking in the distance.
"We stay ahead of it," he said. "We figure out who's next. We break the pattern."
"But how?" Mika whispered.
And Mark said what none of them wanted to hear.
"I don't know."