It's funny how life sometimes can be funny. Stuck in such a dire situation, I never imagine that the stuff that I've learnt in History will surface in my mind.

For centuries, the world battles against diseases, wars and famine; Spanish flu, World Wars, COVID-19, the Raging Heat. Now, it's the waters. The substance that occupies 70% of the Earth and the basis of all forms of living.

Because of oil spills, chemical contamination and human wastes, men have tainted what was once a beautiful blue color into a murky, poisonous seawater. Pollution has contaminated the minds of the sea creatures, mutating them into mindless monsters who seek fresh blood and meat on the surface.

And now, we're officially their favorite snack.

I glance up at the ceiling, shuddering at the faint thumps above us. Outside, it's a war. But down here, we're safe. For now.

It doesn't take long for me to learn the names of our fellow companions. There are Charles and Emily, the brothers—Matteo and Max—and the family—George, Clara and their five-year-old girl, Mia.

"I'm Roxie," Mom introduces herself. "And this is my daughter, Cordelia."

Max dips his head at us in acknowledgment. "Where's your dad?"

"No dad," I reply emotionlessly.

Matteo gazes at Mom with a rather peculiar expression and I glare at him, finding something icky in his character. From the way he's staring at Mom like one of those men who ogles at pretty ladies, I'm one hundred percent certain he isn't thinking appropriate stuff in his head when we're in such a messed up situation.

Yes, despite being a single mother, my Queen has kept herself fit and classy for all these years because of her job. Even with all that blood splattered across her clothes, it still can't hide her sharp features–

–hang on a sec.

I frown at Mom, like really inspecting her for the first time, realizing how much thinner she looks now. Now that I think about it, Mom has been busy feeding me all her life, but has she fed herself well?

Meanwhile, Charles tunes into News Center Maine on his phone and everyone falls into immediate silence to catch the words. With bated breath, we see a reporter clutching onto his seat and reporting live from inside a flying helicopter.

They are hovering over the coasts, fierce waves crashing against the shores. The camera pans at the giant mob of monsters ravaging the land. They pounce on fleeing humans and destroy what humanity has built for the past few decades.

The reporter yells into the mic. "Unbelievable!" A combination of fear and exhilaration filled his eyes. The wind heavily disheveled his hair. "This is insane! We're literally seeing hundreds, no, thousands of creatures crawling out of the seas and attacking humans! They're not your average animals, they have claws and limbs! How did this evolution happen? Has humanity's pollution set off something? Or has the government been withholding information from us about their secret labs? How did our satellites not capture images—what the hell is that?!"

The camera pans back toward the seas. A massive shadow lurks in waters right beneath them, swirling around in circles with giant fins. The motion morphs the waters in something akin to a whirlpool.

As the reporter and pilot gapes at the strange sight, something big and gray shoots out of the waters, jaw wide open with pointed teeth. The next thing we know, the camera shifts violently. Screams fill the air, metals are crushing, and the video soon fades into a black screen.

It leaves us bewildered. Stunned with terror. Neither of us makes a move or says a word until Matteo clears his throat loudly.

"Well," he remarks. "I guess we're really drowning in this shit."

Everybody fishes out our phones and tries to dial the police and authorities, but nobody is picking them up. The line is dead. The beeping noise on the other end reverberates in my mind, sounding very much like a call to hell.

It feels like the government has fled and abandoned us all.

Or perhaps, they were killed.

Just like Avery and Leo.

I crawl to a corner, feeling the urge to puke, but my stomach's all empty. I only had a sandwich for lunch and it has already digested. When George offers me food later—some bread and canned beans—I politely decline.

What's the point of eating when my friends are all dead?

What's the point of taking all those self-defense classes when I can't even fight back a single monster?

Witnessing the escalating deaths in this town is dashing my hope of being rescued from this hellhole. Leaning against the wall, I slide to the ground. Frustration and grief constrict my chest painfully. I bury my face in between my knees, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spill from my eyes.

It's funny how life can change so much in less than 24 hours. Just earlier in the morning, I was still chuffing down my breakfast like a normal kid and joking with my friends in school. Yet fast forward to a few hours later, they are all gone. Dead. Their bodies are left to decay with no proper burial, whereas the remaining survivors like us remain trapped and waiting to be saved.

Humans have always been superior to most species, but now, we're the ones being hunted like animals. Is this Mother Nature's way of gloating at our arrogance?

Is our race reaping what we sowed?

***

Later that night, I can't sleep. Flashbacks of my friends' deaths plague my mind. Each time I glance down at my hands, it's soaked in red. Their blood. It dips my world in a crimson color and the fading brilliance in their eyes turns light into darkness in my heart. Grief, fear, anxiety, despair and hatred. They are twisting my insides and tormenting my mind, driving me insane.

Up above us, we can still hear the faint snarls and footsteps coming from those nasty things. They might not have found our hiding spot yet, but it's only a matter of time before they do. When that comes, will I be able to protect Mom?

Is there any help coming for us?

The lights are out, but I think none of us can sleep. I hear Max and Matteo tossing in their spot. Charles places his shotgun right by his side while Emily falls into a restless sleep right beside him. George and a sniffing Clara are looking after their kid, who shifts and whimpers every hour in fear.

I'm staring at my phone now and then. The screen suffered a pitiful crack from my earlier brawls with the monsters and the battery life is slowly dying. It's 27% now and I'm using whatever that's left to steal a glance at my dead relatives and friends' photos. Trying to etch every smiling face into my head before I might never get the chance to see it again.

And for the twentieth time, I send out another message.

I haven't realized that I'm breaking out in tears until Mom raises her sleepy face to look at me. "Delia?" She wipes my hair away from my sweaty forehead, her worried eyes sweeping over my tear-stained face. "It's okay, hon. I'm right here."

I swallow hard and shift closer to her side. Threading my fingers through her soft, warm hand. It's comforting to know that Mom is still with me, alive.

Without her, I would be nothing. Without her, there would be no reason left for me to live on.

I cling onto her and we barely sleep for the rest of the night. The moment it hits six in the morning, we get up and start working through the stuff in the wine cellar and storage room. It's best to occupy yourself with something to do rather than dwell on death.

The Black Rose Bar's owners are impressive. Perhaps they have always dealt with difficult customers or situations, because they have gathered the rations. Emily quickly organizes the food into two batches — the perishable and non-perishable food. Mom and I help her, whereas Charles, Max and Matteo are sorting through weapons for self-defense. Unfortunately, there aren't many options. Just Charles's shotgun and handgun, Mom's handgun and three kitchen knives.

We're seriously screwed.

I listen in on Charles's discussion with Max and Matteo. "There's an antique store down the road. I'm familiar with the owner. He stores a handful of guns in the back room. Sells them only to his regular customers."

"That's where you got yours?" Max asks and Charles nods. "You have no more shotguns?"

"There's one more, but I kept it back in my house just two streets away. Never knew I would need to use a shotgun to kill sea aliens."

Matteo groans. "Are you trying to say we've got to leave this place to get ammunition? Why can't we just wait it out inside here until help comes?"

Charles scratches the side of his head. "The question is—are they coming? And I'm not saying we've to leave now, but we've to be mentally prepared when our food runs out."

"How long will they last us?"

"A week at least. Half of the store's supplies are here and the rest are upstairs. If we get them, we'll have enough for another one to two weeks. Depending on how fast we finish them."

Mom frowns and throws in her opinion as well. "I guess we'll have to watch our intake."

"Guys."

A voice interrupts us, but it doesn't belong to the brothers. Instead, it comes from George. "Charles?" His voice sounds afraid. "By any chance, do you have an asthma inhaler? We lost ours earlier."

Everybody heads over to Mia, but not too close because the poor girl seems like she's having difficulty breathing by the second. Her face is slowly turning blue. Clara is trying to calm her down while Emily passes along a bottle of water.

"Breathe, honey. Breathe. In and out. That's it."

Mia tries her best to listen to what her mother says. Overtime, she appears to look better. Her breathing seems less erratic.

She barely gets through her asthma attack, but who's saying that it won't occur again? The attacks and the hideous creatures have traumatized the poor kid.

And her asthma isn't the end of the problem. Clara pulls her daughter to her chest and feels her forehead, her eyes growing wide with worry. "You're burning up. Emily, do you have some Tylenol?"

Emily rummages through the first aid kit box. "I-I can't find any," she answers with a regretful expression. "We didn't replenish it, because we thought it would be easy to hop straight to the pharmacy whenever we need it. It's just right down the street."

My stomach sinks at her words, knowing where this is heading towards. Charles glances up and looks at Mia painfully, before shifting his thoughtful gaze to us. The frown between his brows deepens, his jaw clenching.

"Guess we'll have to make that trip earlier than expected."

☺️