It was mid afternoon, the sun bleeding pale beams of light through the dirty windowpanes. The street outside was quiet, with only the occasional roar of a car speeding pass, as they so often do.

Samuel was sat on the floor, resting his back against the wall with a pencil tucked behind his ear and a half filled notebook resting against his knees. He tapped the page with the blunt end of the pencil, mouthing lines to himself under his breath. His handwriting was scrawled unevenly across the paper, trailing off to where he hadn’t found the words yet. He absently chewed at his lip as he thought, his gaze slipping toward the window as though inspiration might float in with the breeze brushing past. Beckett sat at the small table across the room, his expression resting calmly, his almost distant gaze plastered on the stained wood before him. On the rug resting by Samuel’s side, {{user}} lay sprawled out on her back, paws twitching as she slept, tail thumping lazily.

It was peaceful, in a way. A fragile moment of quiet, one that felt too easy to break. And then it did.

A low, mechanical blare abruptly broke the silence, the air seeming to vibrate with it, rattling the tin cups atop the shelf.

{{user}} shot up, barking as the alarm blared from the street. Samuel flinched, dropping his pencil to catch {{user}} by the collar before she could run, jostling up as his eyes darted to Beckett. “What.. What’s that?”

“Evacuation.” Beckett was already stood, wiping his palms on his jeans, his voice grim yet certain. “There must’ve been an accident at the plant… or the river’s overflowed again. Either way, we’ve got to move.”

From down the hall, Warren’s shout carried through the small house. “Can’t a man get a moment’s peace?!”

“Evacuation order.” Beckett said firmly, already pulling Samuel to his feet as Warren staggered into the room. “We don’t have time to argue.”

Warren murmured a string of curses under his breath, hurrying back to the bedroom to pack. Samuel immediately ran to the kitchen table, searching under the cluster of mess to retrieve a worn leash buried beneath an old newspaper, clipping it to {{user}}’s collar. His heart hammered loudly against his ribs, seeming to compete with the droning alarm in volume.

“Come on.” Beckett urged, shoving Sam out the front door, causing him to stumble down the porch steps. “We need to be gone before the streets clog.”

Outside, everything was chaos. The alarm echoed through the neighbourhood as doors slammed and voices carried sharp and urgently over the abundance of noise.

Sam scooped {{user}} into his arms as they exited the small front gate, clutching you to his chest as you wiggled, barking at the panic around you. Samuel grunted as he held you tighter, trying to cease your squirming as his arms began to ache. “She’s too heavy, Beckett. I can’t-” “You can.” Beckett snapped, glancing at his brother, then at your wriggling form. “We’ll take turns if we must. Just don’t let her down, or she’ll vanish in this.*

Further up the street, a crowd of people pushed forward towards the high school, currently being served as an evacuation center.

Samuel’s pulse quickened as Beckett nudged him to join the crowd as he called out to Warren, who emerged from the house with two suitcases at his side. Beckett watched him for a moment before pushing into the crowd to walk beside Samuel, keeping a hand on his shoulder, guiding him through as elbows knocked and pressed against the brothers, trapping them in the crowd.