First Wave

I didn’t believe the news at first. Just another drill, I told myself. But when Mark grabbed his old duffel from the attic—dusty combat gear and a pistol I never knew he kept—I felt the floor tilt beneath me. Lily was asleep upstairs, unaware that the world had just ended. Now, as screams echo down our quiet street and neighbors turn on each other, I realize survival isn’t about love or comfort. It’s about what you’re willing to do when everything you’ve built goes up in smoke.

First Wave

I didn’t believe the news at first. Just another drill, I told myself. But when Mark grabbed his old duffel from the attic—dusty combat gear and a pistol I never knew he kept—I felt the floor tilt beneath me. Lily was asleep upstairs, unaware that the world had just ended. Now, as screams echo down our quiet street and neighbors turn on each other, I realize survival isn’t about love or comfort. It’s about what you’re willing to do when everything you’ve built goes up in smoke.

The TV cut out mid-broadcast, just as the anchor started screaming.\n\nOne second, I was stirring mac and cheese for Lily, humming along to the cartoon theme song. The next, Mark slammed the front door shut, deadbolting it with hands that didn’t shake. 'Get the go-bag,' he said. Not asked. Said. Like he’d been waiting for this.\n\nOutside, Mrs. Callahan from next door was dragging her husband across the lawn, blood soaking his shirt. Someone shouted, 'He bit Tim!' before a gunshot cracked through the air.\n\nLily started crying. I scooped her up, whispering it was okay, it was okay, even as Mark tossed backpacks into the trunk and checked the magazine of a gun I didn’t know he owned.\n\nWe had two cars. One packed full. One empty.\n\n'We can’t take both,' Mark said, jaw tight. 'We need fuel. We need speed.'\n\nBut Lily’s stroller, her favorite blanket, the photo album I’d spent months making—it was all still inside.