"You're kidding."

Matteo's outburst catches us all by surprise. He stares at Charles in disbelief, but Max quickly pulls him to the corner and shoots him a warning look.

Charles clears his throat loudly. This is the cue for the rest of us to disperse; he and George shifts to the side, deep in discussion. Mom and I head back to the rations. Emily remains with Clara and Mia, and the two women try to get the poor girl to rest.

I bend down to organize the canned food and water bottles, trying to occupy myself with whatever work I can find. A few feet away, the brothers are still exchanging words in almost inaudible whispers. They think we can't hear them, but I can from where I am at. Snippets of their conversation reach my ears.

"Seriously? Are we risking our lives for a little girl? But we don't even know her."

Thankfully, Max is the wiser one. "And what? Watch the little girl die in front of us?" he grunts. "Look, Matt—I know you're terrified. So am I." Dropping to a low whisper, he tells his brother. "But if we don't cooperate, don't you think we'll be kicked out?"

I freeze, realization sinking into me.

What Max says isn't wrong. Everything is all about survival now. I've watched so many dystopian movies in the past. It's all about survival of the fittest and bringing out the worst in humans.

Greed. Betrayal. Selfishness.

So Mom and I need to be careful.

Matteo cannot find words to retort. I watch as he eyes the shotgun slinging over Charles's shoulder. Something dark gleams in his expression, cold and calculating. Seconds tick by before he finally tears his gaze away, but it lands on me next.

I drop my head quickly, pretending to rummage through the toolbox that Emily has brought out from the backroom earlier. I can feel his dark eyes on me, burning through the skull of my head.

He has most definitely caught me watching them. Frankly speaking, I'm a little scared, but I'm curious to know what's running through his mind.

From my peripheral vision, Matteo shifts his weight and snaps his head back to his brother. Grunting, he grits his teeth and jabs a thumb behind him, where the stairs leading to the top sit. "Whatever, but I'm not going out there again."

"Then you don't," Max decides firmly. "I'll go, and you stay here to protect the rest."

Matteo scoffs, but comments no further. Regardless of his disturbing attitude, a part of me understands his refusal to leave this place and head back into the hellhole. What's the likelihood of us surviving if we are out there? Unless we have superpowers, none of us stands a chance against the speed and size of those creatures.

But Mia... Poor Mia. A five-year-old kid doesn't deserve to suffer like this. If we leave her be, she'll die.

Mom places a hand on my shoulder, looking at me as if I'm a different person. She offers me a smile, one that doesn't completely reach her tired eyes. Her voice is quiet. "Delia? Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?"

My silence is scaring her. My tone is usually full of life and humor, but now, it just comes out flat and dull. "I'm fine, Mom. Just confused about everything." I scan around us, making sure that nobody can head us, before leaning towards her. "But Mom, what exactly are those creepy things?"

Mom shakes her head at me. "I don't know. I've never seen them before."

I gnaw on my bottom lip, thinking hard. "Do you think that he's back? Maybe he's coming back for us?"

"Delia!" Mom cuts me off with a frightened look. She casts a quick glance over her shoulder, but nobody's paying us any attention. She turns back to me again, her voice grave and hushed. "Do not speak a word about this again. Promise?"

I hold her gaze, watching the swirl of emotions in her eyes that remind me of a burning fire on a chilly night. "Alright, Mom. I won't."

Her shoulders sag in relief, but not completely. "And Delia?"

"Yes?"

Hands gripping mine, she stares at me for a long moment. "Never reveal yourself to others," she whispers. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

Under her scathing gaze, I swallow and nod numbly in agreement.

Charles rounds us up to gather the supplies from his bar. Together, the men climb the stairs, gripping their guns and knives. The rest of us linger at the landing, just in case the monsters are waiting for us outside. I grab a crowbar that I've found as my temporary choice of weapon. It's better to be prepared than to be defenseless.

On the count of three, Charles unlatches the metal lock. The moment he opens the door, a wave of cold water gushes into the basement and douses the men. I leap backwards just as the water rushes up my ankles and soaks my sneakers.

Max curses. "Shit! Quick, close it!"

The men push the heavy metal door close, grunting against the force of the wind pushing at us. Thankfully, they slam the lock in place. Breathing a sigh of relief, they slump against the walls with heaving chests. Charles runs a hand down his grim face before turning to look at us.

Mom takes a step forward. "Charles, what did you see out there?"

He shakes his head slowly. "Our bar is gone."

His wife freezes, her face paling as she clenches her fists by her sides. "What do you mean?"

"It's exactly what he just said," Max confirms. "Gone. The storm came and blew off almost the entire place. They trashed the supplies. Half of the pub is now just a pile of rubber."

Emily lets out a shocked gasp. Her eyes quiver with emotions at the news of the bar that she has painstakingly built with Charles is now destroyed. She swallows her emotions hard. "And the monsters? Did you see any of them out there?"

Charles shakes his head again. "I couldn't see a thing. It's pouring outside. They might have gone farther inland, at least, that's what I hope."

"So," Matteo drawls. "What now?"

This time, Mom raises her suggestion. "I say we wait for the storm to pass before heading out to the stores."

All of us nod our heads in silent agreement. The thunder rumbles above us, sending tremors through the ground like a slight earthquake. It's a reminder to us we are walking on the crust of a planet that holds grudges against humanity.

Hope, Charles has said.

But why does it feel like it's slipping further away and beyond our reach?

***

Mia's fever worsens as the night passes.

Clara explains to us that her daughter is born frail and is often sick. It is rather unfortunate that it has happened again, especially during this invasion. The poor girl fades in and out of consciousness, coughing once in a while.

When it's near seven in the morning, Charles settles on the decision to run to the nearest pharmacy. He picks up an empty haversack and his loaded shotgun while Max grabs a pair of knives, tucking one into his boot. I don't know how he's going to fight the creatures with those, but he'll have to manage on his own.

Mom stands slowly, reaching for her gun strapped to her belt to make sure it's still there. "I'll join you guys for the run," she offers. "It helps if we've an extra pair of hands to grab the supplies and an extra pair of eyes to watch out for the creatures."

I shoot to my feet immediately. "I'll come with you."

"Don't be silly, Delia. You stay behind and look after Mia."

"No." My voice is almost pleading as tears well up in my eyes. No way am I going to let her walk out of this room without me. If we meet our ends, I would much rather die together with Mom. "You're not leaving me behind."

"Silly. Have I ever said that I won't be coming back?"

I swallow hard. "Can you guarantee you are? Those monsters are huge."

Amid our argument, somebody else volunteers. George. "I'll go instead," he says. "After all, we are getting medicine for my daughter. I can't thank you guys enough for helping me with this."

"That's settled then." Charles nods and leaves to have a word with Emily, allowing George some time to speak to his family as well. I watch as the kind-looking man presses a kiss to his daughter's sweaty forehead and brushes her fringe away from her small, delicate face.

"Daddy will be back soon, okay?"

Mia's eyelashes flutter. She peeks through a sleepy eye and murmurs a response. "Pinky swear?"

He hooks a pinky finger around hers, grinning. "Pinky swear and stamp it." And their thumbs press together to form a seal of approval.

I blink once at their sweet interaction. Something about the way George speaks to Mia captures my attention. He's a father who hides his fears with a smile from his daughter. He's a father who's willing to risk his own life to make her feel better again.

A strange feeling pools in my chest. I think of my father, the one who left right after I was born. I wonder if he would have given me the same treatment, too.

George reaches for his wife and pulls her in for a quick hug. He joins Charles and the men exchange a knowing look before leaving for their scavenger hunt. Though their backs may look solid, I know that this is all a brave act they've put on for us to see.

As soon as the door closes behind them, I can't help but wonder if this might be the last time we would ever see them.