Tallahassee, United States
10:35 a.m., August 21, 2010
Jason slept longer than he intended.
After everything that had happened the previous day, exhaustion finally caught up with him.
Breaking into the hospital.
The creature behind the glass.
The brain scan images.
The conversation with Eleanor.
And, above all, the certainty that the world was much closer to collapse than he wanted to admit.
All of it continued haunting his mind, even while he slept.
When he woke, he spent several seconds staring at the ceiling, trying to remember where he was.
Then someone knocked on the door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
“Jason?”
It was Robert’s voice.
Jason rubbed a hand over his face.
“I’m awake.”
The door opened only a few inches.
Robert didn’t enter.
“Melody and her father are downstairs.”
Jason was instantly alert.
He sat up almost immediately.
“What?”
“They came to see you.”
His drowsiness vanished.
If Donald Tyler was there, it could mean only one thing.
Melody had told him everything.
Or almost everything.
Jason took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.
“All right.
I’ll get dressed and come down.”
Robert remained silent for a moment.
“Don’t take too long.”
The door closed.
Jason sat motionless for several seconds.
Then he released a heavy sigh.
“Great…”
He climbed out of bed and walked into the bathroom.
Jason splashed cold water over his face, trying to drive away the last traces of sleep.
In the mirror, he noticed faint circles beneath his eyes.
He looked tired.
And he was.
But he couldn’t show weakness now.
Donald was a doctor.
An intelligent man.
If Melody had told him even half of what she had seen at the hospital, he wouldn’t be there merely as a concerned father.
He would be looking for answers.
Jason quickly changed his clothes.
As he walked downstairs, he heard quiet voices coming from the living room.
Melody’s voice.
Donald’s.
His father’s.
Jennifer also seemed to be there, although she spoke less frequently.
Jason stopped on the last step for a moment.
He took a deep breath.
Then he entered the living room.
Melody was the first to look at him.
She appeared just as tired as he was.
Beside her, Donald Tyler stood with his arms crossed and a serious expression.
He didn’t look furious.
He looked worried.
That was worse.
Robert stood near the window, silently watching everything.
Jennifer sat on the couch, regarding her son with a mixture of irritation and confusion.
“Good morning,” Jason said, trying to sound normal.
Donald didn’t respond immediately.
He merely stared at him for several seconds.
Then he spoke.
“Jason.”
His voice was calm.
Far too calm.
“I think we need to talk.”
Jason looked at Melody.
She glanced away for a moment, guilt written across her face.
That confirmed everything.
He slowly nodded.
“Yes, sir.
I think we do.”
Jason briefly looked at Robert.
Then at Jennifer.
Finally, he turned back to Donald.
“Perhaps we should talk while we take a walk.”
The room fell silent for several seconds.
Jennifer frowned.
“While you take a walk?
Jason—”
Robert raised one hand before she could continue.
“Let them go.”
Jennifer looked at her husband in confusion.
Robert, however, never took his eyes off his son.
He understood.
Jason didn’t want to have that conversation there.
Not in front of him.
And especially not in front of Jennifer.
That only made everything even stranger.
Donald noticed as well.
His gaze shifted from Jason to Melody.
Then he realized something that made him even more concerned.
Jason probably hadn’t told his parents what he and Melody had done the previous day.
And if he hadn’t told them…
It was because the situation was too serious.
Donald took a deep breath and nodded.
“All right.
We’ll walk.”
Melody immediately stood.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
Donald’s answer was firm.
Melody stopped.
“Dad…”
His expression softened slightly.
“Melody, you’ve already told me what you saw.
Now I need to hear it from Jason.”
She looked at her boyfriend.
Jason kept a serious expression but gave a slight shake of his head, silently asking her to trust him.
“This conversation needs to be between the two of us,” Donald continued.
Melody pressed her lips together in frustration.
For several seconds, she appeared ready to argue.
Eventually, however, she nodded.
“All right.”
Donald turned toward Robert.
“Mr.
Miller, I apologize for arriving without warning.”
Robert folded his arms.
“You don’t need to apologize.”
His voice was calm.
But there was a sharp edge beneath that calm.
“I only hope that when this conversation is over, my son will speak with me as well.”
Jason felt the weight of those words.
It wasn’t a threat.
It was worse.
It was a promise from a father.
“I know,” he answered quietly.
Robert held his gaze for another moment.
Then he nodded.
“Go.”
Jason picked up his jacket from the back of a chair and walked to the door beside Donald.
Before leaving, he glanced at Melody.
She looked worried.
He tried to give her a reassuring smile but couldn’t manage one.
As soon as the door closed behind them, the cool morning air struck his face.
Donald descended the porch steps without speaking.
Jason followed him.
They walked several yards down the sidewalk in silence.
Only when they were far enough from the house did Donald finally speak.
“Melody told me about the hospital.”
Jason didn’t respond.
Donald stopped and turned toward him.
“Now I want to hear it from you.
What exactly is happening?”
Jason took a deep breath.
The moment he had been trying to postpone had finally arrived.
And this time…
He wouldn’t be able to hide behind half-truths for much longer.
Donald remained silent for a long time.
The two continued walking side by side along the sidewalk without speaking.
Jason didn’t try to pressure him.
He knew it was too much for anyone to accept all at once.
The dead walking.
Hospitals under lockdown.
Researchers disappearing.
Society collapsing within a matter of days.
To Donald, it had to sound insane.
But Melody had seen it.
Eleanor was involved.
And the hospital itself was already showing signs that something was terribly wrong.
Donald finally stopped walking.
He rubbed a hand over his face and released a heavy sigh.
“I still don’t know if I can believe all of it.”
Jason nodded.
“I understand.”
Donald looked at him.
“But I believe my daughter.”
He paused.
“And I believe my wife.”
His expression grew more serious.
“If Eleanor is trapped inside that hospital, working on something this serious, then I can’t keep pretending this is merely an ordinary medical crisis.”
Jason felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.
Donald still wasn’t entirely convinced.
But he was no longer denying it.
For now, that was enough.
“What do you need me to do?” Donald asked.
Jason blinked in surprise.
“You believe me?”
“I believe you enough to prepare.”
Donald resumed walking, but his tone had changed.
It was firmer.
More practical.
“If there’s a chance society will collapse, we need medical supplies.
Basic medications.
Antiseptics.
Painkillers.
Fever reducers.
Anti-inflammatory drugs.
Dressings.
Gauze.
Bandages.
Gloves.
Masks.
Saline solution.
Suturing equipment.
Splints and immobilization supplies.
Anything that might prove useful if the hospitals stop functioning.”
Jason listened in silence.
That was exactly the kind of help he needed.
Donald was a doctor.
He would know what to buy, how much of it they needed, and what would actually be useful.
“I’ve already transferred money to Melody,” Jason explained.
“For food, books, and some equipment.”
Donald glanced at him.
“How much money?”
Jason looked away.
“Enough.”
Donald raised an eyebrow.
Jason sighed.
“I’ll send more.
Use it to buy anything you think is essential.”
Donald nodded.
“All right.”
“But don’t buy only medical supplies,” Jason continued.
“Buy food too.
Water.
Hygiene products.
Fuel.
Anything that might disappear quickly once people start panicking.”
Donald stared at him.
“Why don’t you buy those things yourself?”
Jason stood motionless for a second.
Then he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.
“Because…”
He looked away.
“I’m grounded.”
Donald blinked.
For a moment, he appeared not to understand.
Then he laughed.
It wasn’t a quiet chuckle.
It was genuine laughter—unexpected and almost absurd after everything they had just discussed.
Jason stared at him, unsure how to react.
Donald laughed until he had to brace one hand against his knee.
“I’m sorry…
I’m sorry…”
He tried to catch his breath.
“It’s just that you’re telling me the world might end in a few days…
that the dead are coming back to life…
that the government might be hiding a catastrophe…
but you can’t buy supplies because your mother grounded you?”
Jason pressed his lips together.
“When you put it that way, it sounds even worse.”
Donald laughed again.
For several seconds, the weight he had carried since Eleanor’s disappearance seemed to ease.
The concern was still there.
So was the fear.
But that laughter opened a small crack in the terror.
A reminder that before they became survivors, doctors, or improvised strategists…
They were still just people.
Donald took a deep breath, gradually regaining his composure.
“All right.
I’ll do the shopping.”
Jason nodded.
“Thank you.”
Donald placed a hand on his shoulder.
“But I’m going to make one thing clear, Jason.”
The boy looked up at him.
“You are not going to carry this alone.”
Jason remained silent.
Donald gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“You’re fifteen years old.
Whether you’re intelligent or prepared doesn’t change that.
You’re still fifteen.”
His expression became firm.
“So from now on, if anything happens that could put Melody in danger…
you tell me.”
Jason wanted to answer immediately.
But the words became trapped in his throat.
After everything he had concealed, hearing that felt heavier than any scolding.
At last, he nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Donald released him.
“Good.”
He looked toward the Miller residence.
“Now let’s go back before your father decides he needs to interrogate me too.”
Jason released a weary sigh.
“He will.”
Donald looked at him.
“He really will?”
Jason stared at the house for several seconds.
Through the window, he saw Robert watching them from a distance.
“Definitely.”
Donald followed his gaze.
Then he offered a faint smile.
“Good luck.”
Jason didn’t respond.
The conversation with Donald had been difficult.
But when he saw Robert’s serious face through the window, he realized the next conversation would be even worse.
Robert chose the original Star Wars trilogy.
According to him, nothing suited a family afternoon better than old movies, popcorn, and the perfect excuse for Jennifer to complain that she had already seen them far too many times.
“Don’t you two ever get tired of this?” she asked as she sat on the couch with the bowl of popcorn.
Robert smiled.
“It’s impossible to get tired of the classics.”
Seated between them, Jason tried to smile too.
For a while, he succeeded.
Familiar scenes played across the television.
Starships.
Distant planets.
Unlikely heroes.
Masked villains.
A fantasy world where good and evil seemed almost too clearly defined.
Almost simple.
Jason slowly ate his popcorn, trying to lose himself in the movie.
But his mind refused to rest.
Even when he tried to relax, something always pulled him back.
Supplies.
Routes.
Weapons.
Protection.
Survival.
Then the stormtroopers appeared, marching across the screen.
Jason narrowed his eyes.
The white armor, made of rigid plates, covered almost their entire bodies.
Chest.
Shoulders.
Arms.
Thighs.
Legs.
Even their hands and necks were partially protected.
He stopped chewing.
The idea came to him so suddenly that it almost seemed absurd.
But the more he considered it, the more sense it made.
Not against gunfire.
Not against real weapons.
But against bites?
Against scratches?
Rigid plastic plates covering the body could prevent teeth from penetrating the skin.
They could provide precious seconds during close combat.
They could turn a fatal attack into nothing more than a scare.
Jason studied the screen more closely.
Costumes.
Not military armor.
Not equipment that was prohibitively expensive or difficult to obtain.
Costumes.
Stormtrooper replicas.
There might be cosplay stores.
Collectors.
Websites selling complete pieces.
Even if they weren’t perfect, they could reinforce them.
Thick clothing underneath.
Rigid plates on the outside.
With a few modifications, the armor might work better than ordinary jackets or camping clothes.
“Jason?”
He blinked.
Robert was looking at him.
“You suddenly became very serious.”
Jason realized he had been holding a piece of popcorn halfway to his mouth for far too long.
I was just thinking.”
Jennifer gave him a sideways smile.
“Thinking during Star Wars?
That’s new.”
Jason forced a quiet laugh.
“I just thought something was funny.”
“What?” she asked.
He pointed toward the screen.
“They’re terrible shots, but the armor actually looks kind of useful.”
Robert laughed.
“Useful for what?”
Jason shrugged, trying to sound casual.
“I don’t know.
Halloween?”
Jennifer shook her head.
“You’re too old to dress up as a space soldier.”
“You’re never too old for Star Wars,” Robert immediately replied.
Jennifer rolled her eyes.
Jason smiled.
Inside, however, he was already calculating.
How many pieces could he buy?
How long would they take to arrive?
Would it be better to search local stores or order them online?
Could he use the rest of his money?
Or ask Melody to research it?
The television continued showing scenes from a galaxy far, far away.
Robert laughed at some of the old lines.
Jennifer commented that some of the special effects looked dated.
And Jason, sitting between his parents, pretended to watch the movie.
His mind, however, was somewhere else.
In a world where the dead didn’t stay dead.
Where any piece of exposed skin could mean the end.
And where even a stormtrooper costume might become the difference between life and death.
Tallahassee, United States
7:45 p.m., August 21, 2010
When Jason entered the school locker room, he felt the atmosphere shift.
The conversations didn’t stop completely.
But they grew quieter.
Some players glanced at him from the corners of their eyes.
Others pretended not to notice his arrival.
The contempt was there, clear enough to feel.
Jason didn’t need to ask why.
During the week, he had missed practices, ignored messages, and then appeared on the day of the exhibition game as though he still had the right to wear that uniform.
To the team, it looked like arrogance.
As though he believed he could disappear whenever he wanted and still remain the starting quarterback.
Jason tightened his grip on his backpack strap and took a deep breath.
He wanted to explain.
He wanted to tell them that he had his reasons.
That their world was about to collapse.
That football was the least of his concerns.
But he couldn’t.
Not there.
Not now.
He walked to his locker and silently began changing.
Across the locker room, he saw Todd.
His friend was sitting on a bench, already wearing part of his uniform.
His team jacket lay beside him.
Todd noticed Jason looking at him but almost immediately turned away.
He was still angry.
And he had every right to be.
Jason finished putting on his shoulder pads and adjusted the padding over his chest.
As he reached for his helmet, one of the offensive players walked past and deliberately bumped his shoulder.
It wasn’t hard enough to start a fight.
But the message was clear.
The player didn’t apologize.
He simply kept walking.
Jason closed his eyes for a second.
He understood.
You’re not welcome here.
Or perhaps:
You need to prove you still deserve to be here.
He didn’t respond.
It wasn’t worth it.
Instead, Jason picked up his helmet and walked toward Todd.
His best friend looked up only when Jason stopped in front of him.
“What do you want?” Todd asked harshly.
Jason swallowed the instinctive response that nearly escaped him.
He deserved that tone.
“I need to talk to you.”
Todd released a humorless laugh.
“Now you need to talk?”
Several nearby players pretended not to listen, but Jason knew they were paying attention.
“In private.”
Todd stared at him for several seconds.
He appeared ready to refuse.
Then he reluctantly stood.
“Make it quick.”
They walked toward a secluded corner of the locker room near the equipment lockers.
The noise of the other conversations gradually resumed, but the tension remained in the air.
Jason kept his voice low.
“I know you’re angry.”
Todd folded his arms.
“Really?
Did you figure that out yourself, or did someone help you?”
Jason accepted the jab without reacting.
“You have every right to be.”
Todd’s expression briefly changed.
Perhaps he hadn’t expected to hear that.
“I was a terrible friend this week,” Jason continued.
“I ignored your messages.
I missed practice.
I left you to deal with everything alone.”
Todd clenched his jaw.
“Then why?”
Jason glanced at the other players.
Then he looked back at Todd.
“After the game.”
Todd narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“After the game, you and I will go somewhere private.
Just the two of us.
And I’ll tell you why I’ve been acting so strangely this week.”
Todd remained silent.
For several seconds, Jason watched anger and concern battle across his friend’s face.
“You’re going to tell me everything?”
Jason hesitated for only a moment.
“Enough for you to understand.”
Todd released a heavy breath.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I know.
But it’s all I can promise right now.”
Todd looked away.
In the center of the locker room, several players laughed loudly, trying to ease the tension before the game.
But that corner felt separated from the rest of the world.
At last, Todd turned back toward him.
“It had better be important.”
Jason held his gaze.
“It is.”
Todd didn’t look entirely convinced.
But he nodded once.
“Then play well tonight.”
Jason blinked.
“What?”
Todd pointed toward the field on the other side of the wall.
“If you’re going to drag me into some mysterious conversation after the game, at least don’t ruin the exhibition game first.”
For the first time that night, Jason almost smiled.
“I’ll try.”
Todd picked up his helmet.
“Don’t try.
Do it.”
Jason nodded.
“All right.”
As they returned to the rest of the team, Jason felt some of the weight in his chest ease.
Todd was still angry.
The team still distrusted him.
Nothing had been resolved.
But at least he had a chance.
A chance to play that final exhibition game.
A chance to say goodbye to a part of his life that might never return.
And afterward…
A chance to tell his best friend the truth before it was too late.
When the clock reached 8:00 p.m., the roar of the stadium began filtering through the locker room walls.
The stands were already full.
Outside, the school band played an upbeat song.
The cheerleaders shouted to fire up the crowd.
Everything seemed exactly like any other game night.
But to Jason, nothing felt normal.
The coach called the players together before they took the field.
As always, the team formed a circle in the center of the locker room.
Helmets in their hands.
Shoulder pads adjusted.
Eyes focused.
And as the starting quarterback, Jason stood in the middle.
Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered him.
He had given speeches before.
He knew what to say.
He knew how to motivate the team.
But that night, as he looked at the faces surrounding him, the words were slow to come.
Todd stood in front of him, still looking serious.
Some players watched him expectantly.
Others still regarded him with suspicion.
Jason understood every look.
He hadn’t been a good leader that week.
He hadn’t been a good friend.
He hadn’t even set an example of discipline.
He had missed practices.
Ignored messages.
Disappeared when the team needed him.
And yet there he stood.
In the center of the circle.
As though he still had the right to lead them.
Jason took a deep breath.
“I know a lot of you are angry with me.”
The locker room grew quieter.
“And you have every right to be.”
He looked at each of them.
One by one.
He tried to commit their faces to memory.
The player who always cracked jokes before games.
The receiver who constantly complained about extra practice.
The running back who wore the same wristband in every game.
The freshman who pretended to be confident but trembled with nerves before taking the field.
Todd.
All of them.
Jason felt his chest tighten.
Because he knew.
By the end of the weekend, many of those faces might be gone.
And he wouldn’t be able to save everyone.
He might not even be able to save most of them.
The thought made his throat close.
Jason lowered his eyes for a moment.
He tried to continue, but his voice failed him.
Several players exchanged confused looks.
Todd, whose expression had remained hard until then, frowned.
Jason quickly wiped a hand across his face, but he couldn’t hide the tears that escaped.
One.
Then another.
The locker room grew even quieter.
To the team, it was strange.
Jason Miller didn’t cry before games.
He didn’t lose his voice.
He didn’t tremble in the middle of speeches.
But Todd realized something at that moment.
This wasn’t guilt over missing practice.
It wasn’t nervousness.
It wasn’t drama.
There was genuine fear on Jason’s face.
Suddenly, the promised conversation after the game seemed far more serious.
Jason drew another deep breath and forced himself to continue.
“I wasn’t a good leader this week.
I was gone when I should’ve been here.
I left all of you waiting for answers I couldn’t give.
And I know that wasn’t fair.”
Some players looked away.
Others continued watching him.
Jason tightened his grip on his helmet.
“But I’m here tonight.
And as long as I’m wearing this uniform, I’m going to play for every one of you.”
Todd slightly raised his head.
Although Jason was still emotional, he kept his voice steady.
“It doesn’t matter what happened during the week.
It doesn’t matter who’s angry with me.
When we step onto that field, we’re a team.”
He looked around the circle.
“Just as we’ve always been.”
Jason paused.
For a moment, he heard only his own breathing.
Then he looked toward the door leading to the field.
The stadium lights streamed through the narrow opening.
The crowd roared.
The world still seemed alive.
It still seemed whole.
Jason turned back toward the team.
“So give it everything you have.
Run like there’s no tomorrow.
Block as though the person beside you is depending on you.
Fight for every yard.
Every pass.
Every second.”
His voice became lower.
Heavier.
More sincere.
“Tonight, I want you to play as though this were the last game of your lives.”
The silence lasted one second longer than it should have.
Todd stared at Jason.
This time, he didn’t see only a quarterback trying to motivate his team.
He saw his best friend trying to say goodbye.
And that frightened him.
Then Todd stepped forward and struck his helmet against Jason’s.
“Tigers!”
One of the players immediately answered.
“Tigers!”
The entire locker room erupted with voices.
“Tigers!”
“Tigers!”
“Tigers!”
The players began knocking their helmets together and surging toward the exit.
The team’s chant echoed off the walls.
To most of them, it was merely adrenaline.
Pregame energy.
A powerful phrase meant to motivate them.
But Todd continued watching Jason for several more seconds.
Because now he knew.
When Jason told them to play as though it were the last game of their lives…
Perhaps he truly believed it was.
As Jason walked with the team toward the illuminated field, he looked once more at the players surrounding him.
He tried to remember every face.
Every voice.
Every laugh.
Because this might be the last time they all stepped onto a field together.
And when the doors opened before them, the roar of the crowd swallowed the world.
When the Tigers ran onto the field, the stadium erupted.
The lights illuminated the grass like a stage.
In the stands, students, parents, and teachers waved orange-and-black flags.
The cheerleaders chanted in rhythm, trying to excite the crowd even more.
On the opposite side of the field, their opponents waited in formation.
The Valdosta Hawks.
Hailing from Valdosta, Georgia, they wore red-and-black uniforms.
They were known for being hard-hitting, fast, and aggressive on defense.
Jason felt a chill when he heard the announcer name their city.
Georgia.
For an entire week, that name had been associated with strange videos, rumors, and disappearances.
Now an entire team from there stood before him.
He pushed the thought aside.
Those boys weren’t responsible for any of it.
And that night, they were merely opponents.
Merely players.
Merely teenagers living beneath the same illusion of normalcy.
The opening whistle sounded.
And the game began.
On the very first drive, the Hawks showed why they had such a dangerous reputation.
Their quarterback, Marcus Reed, was fast.
Very fast.
On third down, he escaped two Tigers defenders and raced down the sideline until he nearly reached the twenty-yard line.
The visiting crowd erupted.
Jason watched from the sideline, holding his helmet against his chest.
His team looked nervous.
Anxious.
As though the tension from the locker room remained trapped in every movement.
Two plays later, Valdosta scored the first touchdown.
7–0.
The Tigers returned to the sideline in silence.
The coach tried to regroup them, but Jason noticed the looks.
The team needed an answer.
When he took the field for the first time, he felt the weight of everyone’s expectations on his shoulders.
Todd lined up on the left side of the offensive line.
Before the snap, he briefly looked at Jason.
He didn’t say anything.
But the message was clear.
Play well.
Jason placed his hands under center.
“Blue forty-two!”
The Hawks’ defense shifted.
Jason read the formation.
Blitz from the right.
“Blue forty-two!”
“Hut!”
The ball snapped into his hands.
Two defenders charged like arrows.
Jason dropped back three steps.
Todd hit the first rusher hard, holding the line long enough to protect him.
The second came around the edge.
At the last possible second, Jason twisted away and threw.
The ball sailed over the middle of the field.
Caleb leaped between two defenders and secured the catch.
First down.
The Tigers’ crowd came alive.
Jason pointed at him.
“Great catch!”
Caleb pounded his chest.
“Keep ’em coming!”
The drive advanced steadily.
Yard by yard.
Block by block.
Run by run.
On second down, Miles took the handoff and burst through the defensive line with two opponents clinging to his waist.
They finally brought him down after he gained another six yards.
Miles jumped to his feet, shouting and pounding his chest.
The team answered.
For the first time that night, the Tigers looked alive.
At the ten-yard line, Jason took the snap.
He faked the handoff to Miles.
The defense took the bait.
Jason rolled to his right.
A defender appeared directly in front of him.
Then Todd appeared like a wall and drove the opponent aside.
“Now!” Todd shouted.
Jason threw.
The ball found Caleb wide open in the corner of the end zone.
Touchdown.
The stadium went wild.
7–7.
Jason ran to Caleb and slapped his helmet.
The other players surrounded them, shoving, shouting, and celebrating.
Todd was the last to approach.
“Not bad.”
Jason was breathing heavily.
“Thanks for the block.”
Todd merely shrugged.
“It’s my job.”
But for the first time that night, his voice sounded less cold.
The game remained intense.
The Hawks refused to back down.
In the second quarter, Marcus Reed led a nearly flawless drive.
Quick passes.
Short runs.
Well-designed plays.
The Tigers’ defense fought for every yard, but Valdosta advanced like a machine.
At the five-yard line, Marcus tried to run up the middle.
Ethan, one of the Tigers’ linebackers, dove at his legs and stopped him only inches from the end zone.
The crowd held its breath.
On the next play, the Hawks ran the ball again.
This time, they made it.
Touchdown.
14–7.
Jason stared at the scoreboard.
It was only an exhibition game.
It didn’t count toward a championship.
It wouldn’t change the future.
And yet every point seemed to matter.
Perhaps because this was their last chance.
The last chance to run across an illuminated field.
To hear the crowd.
To feel the grass beneath their cleats.
To play a game where every mistake didn’t mean death.
When Jason returned to the field, he felt something different.
It wasn’t fear.
It wasn’t pressure.
It was presence.
He was there.
Fully alive.
And he decided to play exactly as he had asked the others to play.
As though it were the last game of his life.
On the next drive, the Tigers increased the tempo.
Jason completed a series of short passes.
One to Caleb.
Another to Ryan along the sideline.
Then Miles ran the ball up the middle.
Todd and the offensive line began to dominate the opposing defense.
Every block came with greater force.
Every player seemed to be fighting not only for the next play, but for the right to remember that night with pride.
With two minutes remaining before halftime, Jason called a risky play.
The coach hesitated on the sideline but allowed it.
Jason took the snap.
He dropped back.
The Hawks’ defense came after him with everything they had.
Todd held off the primary rusher, but another defender broke through the middle untouched.
Jason saw the pressure coming.
He waited another half second.
Only half a second.
Then he launched the ball deep.
The defender hit him immediately after the throw.
Jason landed flat on his back, the air driven from his lungs.
For several moments, he heard only the distant roar of the crowd.
Then came the shouting.
Caleb had caught it.
Touchdown.
Jason opened his eyes.
The entire crowd was on its feet.
14–14.
Todd appeared above him and extended a hand.
“You’re insane.”
Jason took his hand and stood.
“It worked.”
“This time.”
Todd tried to keep a serious expression, but he couldn’t completely hide his smile.
The first half ended in a tie.
During halftime, the Tigers’ locker room felt like a different place.
No one talked about Jason missing practice.
No one gave him contemptuous looks.
They were all sweating, breathless, and alive with adrenaline.
The coach discussed adjustments.
The defense needed to contain Marcus Reed.
The offensive line needed to provide better protection on the right side.
The receivers needed to run cleaner routes.
Jason listened in silence.
But while the coach spoke, he studied his teammates.
He tried to commit every detail to memory.
Miles’s flushed face.
Caleb laughing as he drank water.
Ethan complaining about a hit to his shoulder.
Todd sitting on the bench, staring thoughtfully at the floor.
When the second half began, the Hawks returned even more aggressive.
Marcus Reed ran for a touchdown on the opening drive.
21–14.
Then an interception nearly buried the Tigers.
Jason attempted a pass over the middle, but Valdosta’s cornerback read the play and jumped the route.
For one second, the entire stadium seemed to freeze.
The defender returned the interception to the thirty-yard line before being brought down.
Jason stood motionless, breathing heavily.
The guilt came immediately.
The bitter feeling of having failed.
But Todd approached and slapped him on the shoulder.
“Forget it.”
Jason looked at him.
“That was my fault.”
“I said forget it.”
Todd pointed toward the defense taking the field.
“They’ll hold them.”
And they did.
The Tigers’ defense produced its best stand of the night.
Ethan brought Marcus down on third down.
The stadium erupted.
On fourth down, the Hawks attempted a field goal.
The kick sailed wide.
No points.
Jason closed his eyes for a moment.
They still had a chance.
At the beginning of the fourth quarter, Valdosta led 21–17.
The Tigers had managed only a field goal, but they were still alive.
Every play now seemed charged with electricity.
The crowd never stopped shouting.
The cheerleaders had nearly lost their voices.
In the stands, Jennifer held one of Robert’s hands without even realizing it.
Robert watched his son closely.
Not only as a father.
But as someone who understood that Jason was playing with a heart far too burdened for a fifteen-year-old boy.
With six minutes remaining, Valdosta scored again.
A deep pass.
A mistake in coverage.
Touchdown.
28–17.
For a moment, the Tigers’ stadium fell silent.
Eleven points behind.
Little time remaining.
An exhibition game that shouldn’t have mattered so much to any rational person.
But not one Tigers player lowered his head.
Jason gathered the offense on the sideline.
They all moved closer.
Sweating.
Exhausted.
Breathless.
But attentive.
“It isn’t over yet,” Jason told them.
Miles struggled to catch his breath.
“We need two possessions.”
“Then we’ll get two possessions.”
Caleb laughed, nearly out of breath.
“Just like that?”
Jason looked at each of them.
“No.
But you heard what I said before the game.”
Todd watched him in silence.
Jason continued.
“Play like it’s the last.”
No one responded.
They didn’t need to.
When they returned to the field, the Tigers gave everything they had.
Jason completed three consecutive passes.
Then Miles ran up the middle, broke a tackle, and gained fifteen yards.
The stadium came alive again.
At the twenty-yard line, Jason saw the Hawks’ defense dropping back in anticipation of a pass.
He changed the play at the line of scrimmage.
“Black nineteen!”
Todd looked at him, recognizing the call.
“Black nineteen!”
Snap.
Jason handed the ball to Miles.
Todd opened a hole on the left side with a perfect block.
Miles broke through.
Ten yards.
Five.
Touchdown.
28–24.
A little more than three minutes remained on the clock.
The Tigers needed to get the ball back.
The kickoff sailed high.
Valdosta fielded it and tried to run down the clock.
The Tigers’ defense took the field as though every second were precious.
First down: short run.
Second down: incomplete pass.
Third down: Marcus tried to escape along the sideline.
Ethan appeared again.
He brought Marcus down short of the marker.
Fourth down.
Punt.
The crowd had gone wild.
Jason put on his helmet.
One minute and forty-two seconds remained.
No timeouts.
Sixty-eight yards to the end zone.
Todd approached him.
“After this, you’re going to tell me everything.”
Jason looked at him.
“After this.”
Todd nodded.
“Then hurry up and win.”
Jason smiled faintly.
“I’ll try.”
“Don’t try.”
Todd put on his helmet.
“Do it.”
The offense took the field.
First play.
Short pass to Ryan.
Eight yards.
He stepped out of bounds and stopped the clock.
Second play.
Jason dropped back.
Pressure up the middle.
Todd held one defender, but another broke free.
Jason barely escaped and ran.
He gained twelve yards before diving out of bounds.
The crowd chanted his name.
“Jason!”
“Jason!”
“Jason!”
He could barely hear them.
All he saw was the clock.
One minute and eight seconds.
Two plays later, Jason attempted a deep pass to Caleb.
Incomplete.
The ball slipped past the tips of his fingers.
Fourth down.
Silence.
If they failed there, the game was over.
Jason gathered the offense.
Everyone was breathing heavily.
“Do you trust me?”
Caleb answered first.
“Always.”
Miles nodded.
So did Ryan.
Todd waited one second longer.
Then he answered.
“Tonight, I do.”
Jason felt his chest tighten.
“Then let’s go.”
The formation spread out.
The Hawks’ defense expected a pass.
Jason took the snap.
He dropped back.
The pocket began to collapse.
Todd battled Valdosta’s best defender, the two locked in a contest of raw strength.
Jason waited.
One more second.
The defender nearly broke through.
Todd roared and drove him away.
“Now!”
Jason saw Caleb cutting across the middle.
He threw.
The ball crossed the field as though the entire world depended on it.
Caleb jumped.
The defender jumped with him.
They both fell.
For a moment, no one knew who had secured the ball.
Then Caleb raised his arm.
Catch.
First down.
The stadium exploded.
Thirty-two seconds.
Jason rushed to line up the offense.
There was no time to celebrate.
The ball was at the fifteen-yard line.
First down.
Incomplete pass.
Twenty-four seconds.
Second down.
Jason tried to find Ryan in the corner.
Nearly intercepted.
Seventeen seconds.
Third down.
The coach shouted something from the sideline, but Jason could barely hear him.
The entire world had narrowed to the line of scrimmage.
The sound of his own breathing.
The stadium lights.
The faces of his teammates.
Todd looked at him.
Jason nodded.
The play began.
The Hawks brought an all-out blitz.
Everyone charged.
Jason dropped back.
One defender broke through from the right.
Another came up the middle.
Todd blocked the first.
Miles picked up the second.
Jason spun away.
For one second, he saw open space ahead.
He could run.
Perhaps he could get close.
Perhaps not.
Then he saw Caleb at the back of the end zone.
One step of separation.
Only one.
Jason threw.
The ball rose into the air.
The entire stadium held its breath.
Caleb ran.
The defender lunged.
The ball came down.
Into Caleb’s hands.
Touchdown.
For one second, there was silence.
Then the stadium erupted louder than ever.
30–28.
The Tigers rushed into the end zone.
Caleb disappeared beneath his teammates in a pile of embraces and shouts.
Jason stood motionless for a moment, watching them.
Winning an exhibition game shouldn’t have meant so much.
But it did.
Because they had given everything.
Every block.
Every run.
Every catch.
Every second.
When Todd reached him, he didn’t shout.
He didn’t immediately celebrate.
He merely grabbed Jason’s facemask and pressed his helmet against his.
“You still owe me an explanation.”
Jason took a deep breath, smiling despite his exhaustion.
“I know.”
Todd looked around.
At their celebrating teammates.
At the roaring crowd.
At a night that felt far too important to be merely a game.
“And it had better be a very good explanation.”
Jason looked at the Tigers.
At the faces he had tried to memorize before the game.
At that moment, they were all alive.
All smiling.
All together.
He wanted to preserve that image forever.
“It is,” he answered quietly.
“Unfortunately, it is.”
The final whistle came shortly afterward.
The Valdosta Hawks attempted one last desperate play, but the Tigers’ defense held.
When the clock reached zero, the field erupted with shouting.
Players embraced.
Helmets rose into the air.
The crowd chanted the school’s name.
Jason stood in the middle of it all, his heart pounding.
For a few hours, the world hadn’t ended.
For a few hours, he had managed to be nothing more than the Tigers’ quarterback.
And as his teammates celebrated around him, Jason allowed himself to believe that the memory of that night would survive.
Even after everything else fell apart.
I’m using AI to translate this story.
English is not my native language.
If you would prefer to read it without an AI translation, you can find the original Portuguese version on this same profile.