Apocalypse Rewound: Saving Hana

Chapter 2: A Dangerous Deviation

"Eat your eggs, Herman. You’re staring at them like they’re the launch codes for a nuclear missile."

Herman looked up from his plate, the rubbery yellow mass of eggs suddenly looking far less interesting than the digital ghost on his phone screen. "Lando, do you remember that girl from the beach party two years ago? Hana Morales?"

Lando paused mid-chew, a bit of toast hanging precariously from his lip. "The one you spent three hours trying to look at without actually looking at? The one where you almost tripped over a cooler because she laughed in your general direction? Yeah, I remember. Why? Did she finally block you on everything?"

"I never followed her," Herman muttered, sliding his phone across the table. "I just... I heard she works somewhere downtown. Near the plaza."

"And let me guess, your 'doomsday vision' told you the plaza is where the giant hamsters land first?" Lando snorted, finally swallowing his toast. "Bro, if you want to ask her out, just do it. You don't need to invent a global catastrophe as a conversation starter. 'Hey Hana, the world is ending, want to grab a taco and watch the sky bleed?' It’s a bit much, even for your emo aesthetic."

Herman leaned back, his appetite completely gone. "It’s not a joke, Lando. If she’s at the plaza on the twelfth of next month, she’s dead. I saw it. I... I can't let that happen again."

Lando’s expression softened, just a fraction. "Again? Herman, you’re really starting to freak me out. You’re talking like you’ve already lived this. It was a dream, man. A really, really bad one. You’ve been stressed. Maybe it’s the caffeine. Or the lack of it."

"I need to find her," Herman said, ignoring the concern. "I need to know where she works. Exactly."

"Well, Sherlock, she’s tagged in about fifty photos at that cafe—The Morning Bloom. It’s right across from the fountain," Lando said, waving a hand dismissively. "But listen, if you go there looking like this—unkempt, vibrating with anxiety, and talking about the end of days—she’s not going to fall for you. She’s going to call security. Or a priest."

"I’ll be careful," Herman whispered.

"Careful? You’re currently planning a survival retreat for a girl who doesn't know your middle name!" Lando stood up, grabbing the plates. "Look, if it makes you feel better, go buy her a latte. Just don't mention the 'Black Rain' or the 'Stalkers.' Stick to the weather. The normal weather. The kind where water falls from the sky and doesn't melt your skin off."

The Morning Bloom smelled of roasted beans and vanilla—a scent that Herman had forgotten existed in the years of ash and rotted meat. He stood outside the glass door for a full three minutes, his hand hovering over the handle.

This is a mistake, his logical mind screamed. She’s a variable. A distraction. Every second spent here is a second not spent reinforcing the warehouse.

He pushed the door open.

A bell chimed. Behind the counter, a woman with hair the color of autumn leaves and a smile that felt like a punch to his solar plexus looked up.

"Welcome! I’ll be with you in just a sec!" Hana called out.

Herman froze. She was wearing a green apron. There was a smudge of flour on her cheek. She looked so incredibly alive that Herman felt his knees go weak. In his memory, she was always covered in gray dust, her eyes glassy and staring at nothing.

He shuffled to the counter, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

"Hi there! What can I get for—" Hana stopped, her eyes widening slightly as she recognized him. "Wait... Herman? From Leo’s beach bonfire?"

"You remember me?" Herman’s voice cracked. He sounded like a teenager. He hated it.

"Of course! You were the guy who spent an hour trying to explain the lore of some obscure tactical RPG to a golden retriever," Hana laughed, and the sound sent a physical jolt through him. "It was honestly the highlight of the night. The dog seemed very invested."

Herman felt a flush creep up his neck. "I... I didn't think anyone saw that."

"Hard to miss. You were very passionate," she said, leaning on the counter. "So, what brings you all the way down here? This isn't exactly near your place, is it?"

"I was in the neighborhood," Herman lied, the words tasting like copper. "For... supplies. I heard the coffee here was... survivable."

Hana tilted her head, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "Survivable? Wow, high praise. I’ll have to tell the manager. So, do you want a ‘survivable’ latte, or are you feeling brave enough for an espresso?"

"Espresso," Herman said quickly. "Double. I need to stay awake."

"Planning a marathon?" she asked, her fingers dancing across the espresso machine.

"Something like that," Herman muttered. He watched her work, his mind racing. How do I do this? How do I get her out of here without sounding like a lunatic? "Hana, do you... do you like working here?"

"I love it," she said, steaming the milk. "It’s peaceful. Except for the lunch rush. Why? Looking for a career change? I don't think they’d let you talk to the dogs here."

"You should take a vacation," Herman said, the words blunt and awkward. "Next month. Around the twelfth. You should go north. Into the mountains. My uncle has a... cabin. It’s very safe."

The steam wand hissed, echoing the sudden silence. Hana turned to look at him, her eyebrows knitted in confusion. "The mountains? Herman, it’s May. And I barely know you. Are you... are you trying to kidnap me in the most polite way possible?"

"No! No, I just... I have a feeling. About the city. The air quality. It’s going to be... bad."

Hana stared at him for a long moment, then burst into a soft, melodic giggle. "You’re still that weird guy from the bonfire, aren't you? That’s kind of sweet, in a creepy, 'I’m worried about your lungs' kind of way. But I can't just leave. I’ve got shifts, and my cat doesn't do well with altitude."

"Hana, I’m serious," Herman stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, urgent hiss. "Don't be here on the twelfth. Please."

She handed him his cup, her expression turning from amused to slightly concerned. "Herman, you’re shaking. Are you okay? You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"I’m fine," he snapped, grabbing the cup. The heat burned his palm, grounding him. "Just... think about the mountains. Please."

He turned and bolted out of the shop before she could say another word.

June 11, 2025 – 11:50 PM

The last thirty days had been a blur of frantic preparation and mounting dread. Herman’s apartment was now a fortress of canned goods, medical supplies, and reinforced steel. Lando had spent most of the month alternating between making fun of him and asking if he could have Herman’s "doomsday car" if the world didn't end.

But as the clock ticked toward midnight, the air in the city felt heavy. Charged.

Herman stood in the shadows of an alleyway across from The Morning Bloom. He was wearing a tactical vest under a heavy jacket, a reinforced machete strapped to his thigh. He looked like a madman. He felt like a god.

He saw her through the window. Hana was closing up. She was laughing at something her coworker said, wiping down the counters one last time.

"She didn't leave," Herman whispered, his knuckles white as he gripped a heavy-duty crowbar. "She didn't listen."

"Bro, we really shouldn't be here," Lando whispered from behind him. He was wearing a motorcycle helmet and holding a baseball bat, looking deeply uncomfortable. "If the cops see us, they’re not going to ask about our survival stats. They’re going to taser us."

"Five minutes, Lando," Herman said, his eyes fixed on the clock on his phone. "In five minutes, the sky turns purple. In six minutes, the fountain in the plaza becomes a nest."

"And if it doesn't? If the sky stays black and the fountain stays... a fountain?"

"Then you can call the asylum yourself."

11:58 PM.

Hana stepped out of the cafe, locking the door behind her. She waved goodbye to her coworker and started walking toward the center of the plaza—the exact spot where, in another life, the first Shifter had torn her throat out.

"No," Herman growled.

He moved. He didn't run; he lunged.

"Hana!"

She turned, her eyes widening in alarm as a dark figure sprinted toward her. "Herman? What are you—"

He didn't give her a chance to finish. He grabbed her by the waist, lifting her off the ground.

"Hey! Put her down, you psycho!" Lando yelled, chasing after them, his helmet wobbling.

"Herman! Let me go! What is wrong with you?" Hana screamed, kicking her legs. "Help! Someone help!"

He ignored her, his eyes locked on the sky. He ducked behind the massive stone pillars of the city library, slamming his back against the cold marble just as the clock hit 12:00 AM.

The world didn't end with a bang. It ended with a hum.

A low, vibrating frequency shook the very molecules of the air. Hana stopped screaming, her body going limp with shock. Lando tripped, sliding across the pavement on his knees.

Then, the sky cracked.

A vein of brilliant, sickening violet tore across the darkness. The streetlights flickered and died, replaced by a rhythmic, pulsing glow from above.

"What... what is that?" Lando stammered, pulling off his helmet.

Hana looked up from Herman’s arms, her face pale in the alien light. "Herman? You... you knew?"

Herman didn't answer. He was staring at the plaza.

In the original timeline, the first monster had crawled out of the fountain at 12:02. But as he watched, the ground beneath the fountain didn't crack. Instead, the air itself seemed to fold. A massive, obsidian-skinned creature—a Ravager—materialized three stories in the air and crashed onto the roof of the cafe Hana had just vacated.

The building collapsed instantly.

Herman felt a cold sweat break out over his entire body. That didn't happen last time, he thought, his heart freezing. The Ravagers didn't show up until Day Five.

A strange, shimmering ripple passed through the air, like a heat haze. Herman felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his temples. His memories—the precise map of the next three years—suddenly felt blurred. Shifting.

"Everything," Herman whispered, his grip tightening on Hana as the first scream echoed through the plaza. "Everything I knew... it’s changing."

Hana clung to his jacket, her eyes wide with terror. "Herman, look at the sky! It’s... it’s not just purple!"

He looked up. The stars were being blotted out by massive, floating monoliths that hadn't appeared for months in his previous life.

The timeline hadn't just been nudged; it had been shattered. By saving one girl, he had pulled the pin on a grenade he didn't know existed.

"Herman?" Lando’s voice was small, trembling. "What do we do now?"

Herman looked at the machete at his side, then at the terrified woman in his arms. The "perfect" plan was gone. The "manual" was useless.

"We run," Herman said, his voice cracking with a fear he hadn't felt in years. "We run and we don't look back."