Miss Montana skips steps on her way downstairs. Seeing no one in the halls, she checks her watch again but found herself oddly on time if just a few minutes late. Briskly striding to her class, Rebekah pays little attention to the strangely silent classrooms and the sole companionship of her echoing footsteps against the hard floor. She hears a crunch from below but continues down the hallway regardless.
Coming to her door, she takes a calming breath with hand on the knob. Taking this moment away, she finally feels the chill of the surrounding stillness. Usually there are late students, lockers crashing, or general commotion coming through the walls, but none of that finds their way to her now. With another breath, she opens the door, "Sorry, class, I-" she gasps. Surveying the empty classroom, Rebekah cups her hands to her mouth. Breathing warm recycled air through tight fingers, she strides to her desk and collapses in her chair. Throwing hands through loose papers on the desk and clutching the fresh documents, she discovers some dated from the previous night's assignment.
Rebekah cradles her forehead from falling to the table, "What could have...?" she freezes despite her anxiously rising temperature. "They have to be here," although the view of the empty rows of elevated seats speak otherwise. She drops her head lower and eyes something approaching her feet below. Affrighted, Rebekah pushes her chair away from the table, hopping from it with the spirit of a fleeing criminal. She falls on her side just before the first step of desks, nearly indenting her temple on the edge but caught by her extended arm. Regaining herself with a shake of her head, Rebekah finds herself face to face with her immediate fear.
A group of tiny figures walk toward her with eagerness but caution. "Tom, Dianne," Professor Montana whispers as several of her students approach her, "you're all... everyone is... oh, no!"
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