-standing, swaying, a grungy alternative rock song thumping through the speakers on the radio, what radio? I don’t even know where I am anymore, what building, and the wind thrums through my hair—oh, I’m outside, when did I come outside? The sky isn’t bright but it isn’t dark, like somebody turned down the dimmer switch for the world, and all the clouds are swirling together as I spin, am I spinning or is it all in my head? Grass tickles the back of my neck, but why would grass be tickling—I’m on the ground, I guess, but still spinning, the clouds are so pretty it’s like cotton candy in the sky, I can hear water, water, always water, the ocean waves from my childhood, from my everything, the only constant, the only thing that’s been true my whole life is the ebb and flow of the tide—lapping waves—churning—oh fuck—my stomach is inside out, I think I’m dying, I’m heaving and heaving and nothing is coming out it feels like something is in there trying to punch its way up my throat motherfucker why did I drink so much—is this what it would have felt like, my guts are burning, is that what mom felt, what dad felt, what everyone felt, their organs burning and melting and eating them from the inside out, I should have just blown my fucking brains out why did I stay alive why am I the only one what kind of stupid fucked up god would let this happen to someone go and wipe out the whole fucking human race and just leave one person what a fucking asshole fucking bastard—ugh I don’t think I even have a stomach lining anymore—am I dying? Can I actually drink myself to death? Is that a possibility? It feels like it. How long have I been fucked up for it feels like days years months I bet the bodies have started to rot inside their houses and here I am just partying it up in the grass trying to forget that my only friends are corpses now if I could actually walk now would be a good time to just throw myself into the ocean and join the rest-

* * *

Daphne’s throat was like sandpaper as she attempted to peel her eyes open. The sun’s rays pierced her pupils with a million needles stabbing into her brain through her slitted eyelids. She groaned, the sound coming out more like a cough.

Her esophagus burned, her throat sealed, her stomach a caved-in disaster that had tried to climb out of her throat for the hours—days?—she’d been wasted.

A shrill cawcaw! cut through the air and Daphne winced at the sound. Fucking crows.

A thought suddenly occurred to her, constricting her chest as her brain fired in all directions. The disease had only taken out humans. According to the CDC studies, however quickly they’d tried to do any, no other species on earth had been affected, not even the ones closest to the human genome. They hadn’t been able to test the disease on any other animals because it just didn’t react the way that it did in the human body.

Is it possible? The thought drifted through her, and focused her awareness of the pendant’s weight. At some point she must have put the necklace on, even though before her bender she hadn’t wanted to, as if she were betraying her dad by wearing it. Now, it felt like a brick pressing down on her chest, a heavy weight of secrets and lies.

But also… maybe answers. Maybe somewhere, her biological father was out there, alive, because there was something in his DNA that wasn’t fully human. The reason why she was immune, why she was different. Maybe he’d survived too—her only real living family.

No, not family. She didn’t even know the guy. He wasn’t family. He was some guy—probably an asshole—who fucked her drunk mom and left her alone in a hotel room.

But they were blood. And if he had answers, it would be worth seeking him out. Even if he didn’t have answers, if he were still alive, then she’d have somebody to take some of her anger out on, instead of herself. Flashes from wanting to die in the ocean flitted through her head and left a bad taste in her mouth, muck and ash and shame swirling on her tongue.

Daphne gagged, and then thanked her lucky stars that she didn’t begin to retch again. The contents of her stomach were all around her, and from the crustiness of her clothes, all over her. She willed her muscles to move, hefting an arm over to lead her into a roll onto her stomach in the cool grass. She rested her forehead there for a moment, enjoying the dewy carpet cooling her face. The hammer behind her eyes lessened slightly, and she took a deep breath before planting her palms beneath her and pushing herself up onto her knees.

Her world spun, and she sat there, eyes closed for a moment, trying to steady herself and her racing head.

“Cawcaw!”

She slitted an eye, the ground finally still, and then stared fully at the ebony bird perched on the see-saw in front of her.

“Caw,” it squawked, moving only its mouth.

Daphne had seen her fair share of crows over the years, every time the wind blew over a green bin, or some noob didn’t know to put their garbage bags in a bear box. They descended in packs, usually after the sickly sweet smell of used diapers, though sometimes just to tear everything apart and then fly away.

Every time she’d called them dicks, her dad had chastised her.

“They’re smart birds, pumpkin,” he’d say, eyes sparkling, “don’t let ‘em hear you talking about ‘em like that. They remember those that done ‘em wrong.”

Her heart throbbed at the ghost of his voice in her head.

“Well, you here to kick me while I’m down?” she asked the bird, moreso to distract herself from the pain of her father’s memory than anything else. “Come to laugh at me, the last bitch getting what she deserves for making fun of you and your friends all these years?” She practically choked on the words, voice hoarse from underuse—not to mention all the vomiting.

The crow opened its beak, but didn’t say anything this time, simply ruffling its feathers and clicking its mouth shut. Still it studied her.

“I mean, I guess calling you dicks was uncalled for,” she rasped, raising her palms in surrender. “You might have had a good reason for tearing apart garbage and then flying away. People think animals are dumb and do shit on instinct, but guess who’s dead and who’s alive, am I right?”

Daphne took a deep, ragged breath, and gagged again. She needed water. She slowly got to her feet, her calves screaming as she put weight on her shaky legs. She gave the crow a halfhearted salute before staggering off to her house.

The bird squawked noncommittally, and she heard the flutter of wings behind her as it took flight.

“Nice talking to you,” she huffed as she walked, grunting between steps.

After about a gallon of water, a ten-hour nap, a blistering shower and another blissful twelve-hour sleep, she felt almost human again. She wolfed down a hot breakfast of bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, finishing it off with two pieces of toast slathered with peanut butter. After chasing that with a steaming mug of Brazil Peaberry, she did feel human again, and ready to go.

All that was left was to give her family and friends a proper sendoff to the next life. She lifted the first jerry can and set to work covering the whole town in gasoline.

* * *

As Daphne stood next to her packed SUV on the outskirts of town, having set the fire that consumed her whole life, something hardened inside of her. She’d spent the last two weeks nursing her broken heart, and it felt like the shattered pieces burned away to coals as she watched the flames dance.

“Caw!”

She blinked at the black bird standing on the gravel shoulder on the side of the road, staring at her with what she swore was contempt.

“Sorry if I just burned your house down, too,” she said with a sigh. “I didn’t want to leave all the bodies to rot.”

The crow raised its beak as if it were giving her the side-eye.

She shrugged. “Also sorry if you were hoping for some free meat. Here.” She leaned into the car and grabbed a container of bacon that she’d saved from breakfast to munch on while traveling. She tossed a strip over and the bird gave it an experimental peck, pausing before snapping a chunk of it and tearing it off.

It looked up at her again and ruffled its feathers, blinking with a far less disgruntled look in its eye.

“You’re welcome,” Daphne said with a shrug. She took one last look at the flaming town and then turned away, climbing into the driver’s seat. She lit up a cigarette and took a deep drag, exhaling slowly with a cough.

She’d quit years ago, but it didn’t seem so important now to be healthy, considering there was a good chance she’d die alone on an empty planet. It was her dad who’d convinced her to finally kick the habit, and she’d stuck with it mostly, cheating every now and again when she was properly wasted.

By the time she was halfway through the cigarette, it didn’t irritate her lungs as much, and she glanced in the rearview mirror one more time before punching the gas pedal and starting her journey to find the man that sired her.