DYLAN

"The deathly gas has spread to over 5 countries, and it is killing millions as it moves." The female reporter said. Same journalist, same news, same fear.

No one knew the whole story, but apparently, a doctor had been creating a medicine that could cure every disease. Of course it sounded promising, until everything went wrong.

One day a sound, resembling a bomb, could be heard all over the planet. Loud, but not deafening. However, it left everyone shocked. Soon, authorities had found where it came from. The doctor's laboratory, with a cold, dead body laying on the floor. And then more. Police officers fell to the ground rapidly, inhaling an acid coming out of the body. And more. Paramedics, witnesses, animals, thousands of lives lost in seconds.

After a week, it had reached my country. There was still uncertainty about what was happening, but we all knew we had to take care and hide. The basement in our house was the only quick solution, so me and my family ran down the stairs and closed the door. We stayed in silence for hours, until my mother spoke up.

"Maybe it's not bad after all..." No one replied.

My father had brought the television, but he didn't want to turn it on, scared of what he would see. Fortunately, our basement was not that empty and useless. It had a bathroom, some snacks and a couch, though no one wanted to accept it was going to be our reality for as long as the tragedy continued. Everything had happened so fast that no one knew how to react to it. My little sister, Abby, had just turned 9 years old, meaning she could understand a little bit more about death and danger. I looked over to her. She was playing with her fingers trying to look as calm as possible, but I knew she was not calm.

Abby had always been a really smart and mature girl, and the fact that she could understand the gravity of the situation wasn't making me feel any better. No child should experience that fear. The feeling of death crawling slowly behind you. Conscious of everything that's happening, and waiting for the inevitable.

As the days passed, uncertainty and doubt filled the room. Was it still outside? Would it be dangerous to investigate?

Our curiosity was making everything harder, though we knew we couldn't all take the risk. We had agreed on a plan.

My sister and I would lock ourselves in the bathroom, while our parents went out and investigate. There was still a chance of surviving, getting better, and living life as normally as possible. But if they didn't come back, we wouldn't go out and try to help them. If they didn't come back, they were dead.

A few hours later, they went out.

One hour.

Two hours.

Three hours.

Silence filled the room. Neither Abby or myself wanted to accept the truth. Our parents were dead.

As hard as it was, we continued. She fought for me, just as I fought for her.

The weeks passed. Then a month. We lost track of time and our cans of food were emptied.

"What are we surviving for?" Abby said one day. I started thinking of my answer. "A better life? We know there's no getting better after this..."

I felt self-conscious. There was nothing left to do. Just a door kept us from ending it all, but what can be considered all, when we have nothing?

"Are you saying we should go out?" I said as my eyes filled with tears. She didn't look sad, or maybe I had just gotten used to it. After a few minutes, Abby nodded.

"We're going to die, aren't we?" She said as I held her hand. We were standing in front of the door.

"Maybe." I answered and then twisted the door knob. All I could see was the stairs to our old house, my father's backpack, and my mother's shoes.

Then, it all went black.