"Thomas Aike! What did you do this time?" Grandpa's voice blasted through the speaker.
Thomas flinched and pulled the phone away from his ear. "What do you mean, Grandpa?" He sounded innocent, but he already knew.
"Do not give me that. The email. The lunch. What are you playing at?"
"Didn't the company close a big deal? Isn't that why everyone is in Hope City?" Thomas asked.
"Where did you hear that?"
"Grandpa, everything in the company passes through me. I am the one who recommended that partner," Thomas said.
A short pause. Then Grandpa switched targets. "We need to change your job then. And what are these boxes?"
"Boxes?"
"My hotel room is full of the packs you ordered. They were delivered to me. The clerk made me pay. Why am I paying for your mess?"
"Those are not for me. They are gifts for the employees," Thomas said. "The company just closed a big deal. It is a celebration gift."
There was another pause. Grandpa's tone lowered. "A celebration gift. Fine. Then why are they all food packs?"
"I heard Hope City has great food," Thomas said. "I wanted everyone to try it."
"These foods are also available in our city," Grandpa shot back. "You said you would come here tomorrow. Fine. I will wait for you. You will sit down and explain everything to me, Thomas Aike."
"Yes, Grandpa. I will see you in your hotel room tomorrow. We will have lunch together."
"Good. Do not be late." The line clicked.
Thomas lowered the phone and let out a slow breath.
This was all part of the plan he and Bryan made. He would not go to Hope City tomorrow. He only needed Grandpa to stay inside the hotel with enough food to last.
The next day came. Day - Zero. This was when Thomas's triple S bangungot would hit.
Bryan and Thomas reached the office early. Their stomachs felt tight. Today had to land clean or it could cost them later.
At 11 a.m., they moved. Thomas chatted with the guards at the monitor desk and pointed at screens like he was making small talk. While the guards looked, Bryan slipped into the secured room. Cold air hummed from the racks. Tiny link lights blinked in rows. He found the uplink bundle they had marked yesterday and cut through with the scissors he brought. The port lights for the floor uplinks went dark one by one.
They walked back at a quick, steady pace. Calm. Ordinary. Two guys returning from nowhere.
Thomas drifted to his desk and sat. He clicked his mouse a little louder than usual. He sighed. He refreshed the dead browser, leaned back, rubbed his eyes, refreshed again. He kept it up until heads began to turn.
Fifteen minutes crawled by. When he felt the room watching him, he stood and raised his voice. "Internet is not coming back. How about an early lunch? The company will cover it anyway. It is almost eleven thirty, right?"
Chairs slid back. People grabbed their bags and filed toward the elevators.
On the way out, Thomas cut through the sales department rows along the window side. Desks sat tight there, phones and monitors facing the aisle.
"Thomas, where are you going?" Bryan called from his station so his team could hear, eyes telling him to keep acting.
"We are going to the lunch party covered by the company. Internet is down. There is nothing to do," Thomas said, right on script.
Sales cheered and joined the line to the elevator.
Thomas and Bryan stepped into a different elevator so they could work the other floors. They rode down to thirteen, stepped out, and ran the same routine. Check faces. Crack a light joke. "Lunch is on the company." Point to the time. Nudge people toward the elevators.
Floor twelve. Floor eleven. Floor ten. Each stop emptied more halls.
When they reached the ground floor, the building was almost empty. Only the security on the ground floor remained.
Outside, a long line of coworkers headed down the block toward the reserved restaurant.
Bryan watched the crowd and swallowed. "Hope we got everyone," he said under his breath.
In Thomas's dream, the restaurant and the whole street it was on were not hit by the coming calamity. People ran, but nothing there was on fire or destroyed. That was why he chose that place. It was close to the office and the food was good.
"Where to next?" Bryan asked, watching their officemates walk out of the building in a good mood.
"Underground parking. Let us double check the goods," Thomas said.
Down in the parking area, a small truck and a guard were finishing the unload. Boxes were stacked beside a pillar.
"What are these, sir?" the guard asked.
"Clothes. For our company relief operations," Thomas said.
The guard nodded. Their company did charity work from time to time, so this looked normal to him. He did not notice the look from the delivery guy.
"Let's go," Thomas said, tapping Bryan's shoulder.
"We are not checking everything?" Bryan whispered.
"No. It will look suspicious. The guard will see what is inside," Thomas whispered back.
The boxes held everything they could buy in two days. Both of them were just starting their careers and did not have much. Bryan had a condo loan on top of that.
Inside the boxes were food and more food. Canned goods, dried noodles, rice, snacks, water, and a few basic supplies.
In Thomas's dream, if he left the building he would die. So, they planned to stay. If they could not go out, they needed stock. The boxes were enough for one month for four people, even if all of them ate like Thomas.
"Let's go back and wait for the trigger," Thomas said.
They skipped the elevator and took the stairs. Floor by floor, they checked every corner. Each level was empty.
They reached the fourteenth floor, their area, and switched on the TV. Thomas stood close to the screen. Bryan turned the volume up. The office felt too quiet. The air conditioner hummed. The news ticker crawled at the bottom.
"Breaking news on HKM News. It has been three days since an impeachment complaint was filed against the Vice President, and we still have not heard from him."
Thomas froze. His jaw tightened, chest heavy, like he was still trapped inside the dream. Bryan's leg bounced nonstop against the chair, his eyes glued to the same footage Thomas had already seen play out in his nightmare.
Then Thomas exhaled, long and shaky, forcing himself to move. He straightened, looked at Bryan, and nodded.
"It's time," Thomas said, giving Bryan a firm look. They were about to move when his phone rang.
"It's peanut butter jelly time!
Peanut butter jelly time!
Peanut butter jelly time!
Peanut butter jelly time!
Where ya at? Where ya at?
Where ya at? Where ya at?"
Thomas flinched and answered. "Hello?"
"Hello, Thomas. Are you coming?" Grandpa asked.
"Yes. I am near the hotel. Traffic is a bit heavy," Thomas said. His voice stayed even, but his chest felt tight. He was still at the office in a different city, nowhere near the hotel in Hope City.
"Let's meet at the hotel. Do not go anywhere. Watch the news. I am almost there. Maybe thirty, no, twenty minutes," Thomas added.
He ended the call and stared at the black screen of his phone for a second. He tucked it away and drew a slow breath.
"Your parents?" he asked.
"In the hotel too. I just checked. They are receiving the package I sent," Bryan said. His fingers were shaking a little. He hid them in his pockets.
Bryan had done the same thing Thomas did. He sent boxes of goods to his parents' hotel and told them a charity event needed storage for a while. They brought the boxes inside without questions. With the two of them, the supplies could last at least a month.
They kept all of this quiet. No one would believe the real reason. Every time they tried to explain it was because of Thomas's bangungot, it only made things harder to stop what was coming.
Thomas and Bryan looked at each other. Thomas cracked the plastic cover on the fire alarm. Bryan pulled the lever like they had practiced.
"REEEEEE! REEEEE! REEEEE!"
A piercing, mechanical sound filled the halls.
The TV in their area kept playing.
"This just in. A group of meteors has appeared and is heading toward Earth. Scientists are still trying to understand how they got this close without detection…"
Thomas tapped Bryan's shoulder and nodded. They took the stairs and went up to the cafeteria on the fifteenth floor.
In Thomas's dream, this floor exploded. Too many ways it could happen. Open flames. Hot oil. Loose wires. Gas. Today, they would try to stop it.
Before they entered, Thomas spotted a pushcart parked in a corner. It was the one the cleaning staff used for supplies and trash. Since the company lunch had pulled them out, the cart had been left behind. The trash bags were still unused. The shelves held spray bottles, rags, and an empty bin.
They pushed the cart into the cafeteria.
Someone was there.
A figure stood by the prep counter, staring back at them.
Someone was still on the fifteenth floor.