The guys have not returned.

It has been three days since the creatures first stepped onto the coasts of Maine. Three days since I saw a water serpent sank its fangs into the neck of my best friend and school mates. It hasn't been that long, but it feels like ages ago since they attacked us. That's how slow the time is moving as we wait for the unknown.

Flashes of images run in my head; people in this town mauled to death, their bodies beyond recognition. My mind remembers the way their blood ran like a river through the streets of my hometown. It robs me of sleep.

Above us, the storm continues to rage endlessly. At least once every hour, footsteps will thunder across the ceiling above us, the rumble causing the lights to flicker. I hate it when that happens, because I'm afraid that the darkness would render us helpless. More than that, I'm afraid that I might lose what's left of my sanity when the light extinguishes.

Charles was wrong; the creatures never completely leave this town and head up north. For now, they are simply unaware that there are survivors right beneath their feet. Hiding, waiting and praying.

We speak little, just as a precaution to not alert the creatures. We don't know how intelligent and sensitive their senses are.

Even though we still have water and shelves full of alcohol, food is depleting as the days pass. If Charles and the rest don't return soon, we won't be able to survive for long.

Sometimes, I sit by the stairs landing, hoping to hear signs of our men's return. Or, even better, the rescuers from the military. But I don't. All I hear are the faint, nasty snarls coming from the outside.

Each time we check our phone for news, we grow horrified by grisly videos of neighboring countries being invaded by the same creatures from the waters. The internet connection continues to run until later this afternoon, when it cuts off abruptly and startles every one of us.

"Shit." Mom refreshes the webpage on her phone and checks her phone for the signal. "It's gone."

"You're kidding." I pull out my phone and grimace at the 15% battery life. When I try to search up the news, it doesn't load. Crap. "What do we do now?"

Mom thinks about it for a second. "Emily, by any chance, do you guys have an old-fashioned radio player? You know those over-the-air gadgets they used in the past?"

Emily simply shakes her head, crushing our hopes once more. Now, we no longer have access to the news station. We'll never know if rescue efforts are being deployed and where.

"Great." Matteo laughs humorously to himself and grabs a bottle of wine from one of the cellar's shelves. He settles at a corner, taking a large swig from the bottle. "Just great."

I clutch my crowbar tightly, glaring at his round-shouldered slouch. So much for Max telling his brother to stay behind and protect us all when he's goofing off on his job. Even Emily is shaking her head at him in disgust, but she doesn't tell him off for taking their booze. There's no point in keeping them anyway.

A light cough comes from the corner. Mia's mother pulls her closer to her side, whispering words into her ears. Trying to coax her to sleep and assuring her that help's on the way. But deep down in my heart, I know the hard truth.

No help is coming our way.

Humanity has lost.

Our world is dying, withering away like a fallen rosebud. Crumbling into blood-soaked ashes. Mother Nature is punishing us for poisoning her roots and flowers.

Mom emerges from the toilet in the back room, now dressed in a set of employee's black shirt and pants that Emily has found because her old clothes were smelling from the bloodstains. She hands me a packet of nachos and some sauce dip just in case I'm hungry. But I'm not. Instead, I give in to exhaustion and sleep, yet it doesn't last long. Some time later, the sound of Matteo mumbling in his drunken stupor jerks me awake, but he soon falls back asleep. Snoring away.

Ever since the creatures arrived, they have turned me into a light sleeper. Frequently on the edge. Afraid that the monsters might get to me while I'm asleep.

Mia's brown, beady eyes capture my attention. She watches me from where she is lying right by her mother's side, who is slowly dozing off. Her expression is innocent and thoughtful. A small smile emerges when she notices me returning her gaze.

"I like your hair," she whispers.

My lips instantly curve into a smile. I'm never someone who likes to mingle with kids, but this time, something about Mia draws me to her. I get up from my spot and shift closer, trying not to wake Clara.

I tuck my hair behind my ear. "But doesn't it look too tomboyish?"

"I think it's pretty," Mia remarks. "You look exactly like Lori — my favorite doll. She's a musketeer."

Amused, I lie down right next to her and roll onto my side to watch her. "Well, why do you like her that much?"

"Because she fights the bad guys."

I chuckle lightly. "Really? I'm flattered. The only 'bad guys' that I've fought before are the snobbish jocks in my school who harassed my best friend. Does that count?"

"Of course." Her smile broadens. "See? I'm right. You're Lori. You fight the bullies."

"That's not my name actually," I drawl slowly. "But okay, you can call me that. Only you."

I reach out to pinch her cheek. She may be frail, but she has the brightest smile I've ever seen anyone wear after living through the past few days of nightmare. We haven't seen the sun for such a long time, and it makes me feel a little better knowing that there's a ray of sunshine sitting right next to me.

"Also, your eyes are beautiful." Mia studies my eyes and breaks out into a grin. "It reminds me of the ocean—the one that's drawn in my picture books. It's bright blue and not the strange brown color we see in real life. Have you ever seen such clear waters?"

A hint of sadness seeps into my voice. "I did. Once." Although I can't remember much, my first beach trip when I was four is my most unforgettable memory of the beach. "Mom brought me to the Maldives a long time ago with Gramps, my uncles, aunts, and cousins. We stayed at an over-water villa and trust me, the water was as blue as the sky. But that was before the pollution became this nasty."

Mia's eyes shimmer in bright fascination. "I hope I can see it someday."

I pause briefly, uncertain on how to answer that. "Maybe someday," I smile weakly. "When we get out of this...mess."

Mia nods quietly and stretches her small hand to grasp mine, clutching my fingers tightly as she squeezes her eyes shut to sleep. In a matter of minutes, I hear her light, rhythmic snores. Suddenly, I realize how much energy she must have spent while trying to speak to me. At least now I know she won't wake until a couple of hours later.

I do not know how long I lie right there, or the fact I've dozed off again, until I'm startled awake suddenly by a loud rattle. All of us exchange wide, fearful glances, listening hard to what's happening outside. We hear a couple of muffled voices, followed by a loud knocking on the door. Two raps, followed by another three raps, is the code that we've decided on right before our group left. Well, just in case it's not our people on the other side.

Mom and Emily immediately shoot to their feet and run up the stairs to unlock it. To our greatest relief, the first person who comes rushing through that door is Charles. Drenched, bloodied but thankfully still intact with all his limbs. Somebody else enters after him, carrying a bag of supplies.

My eyes scan over the group and a heavy feeling settles in my chest. The men have returned from their scavenge, but a quick count tells me that one of them is missing.

Mia's father.