A summer breeze kisses my bare chest as I lie on my back on the floor. My clasped hands behind my head are my pillows. It's noon, and nothing I can hear but the sound of silence. Alexandria is now a city of ghosts, which makes me wonder how this night is going to be like. Last night, it was just darkness. Tonight, it will be darkness, black sea and ghosts.

Did I survive because I'm so lucky or so unlucky? I guess the trouble is over for those who were swallowed by the mega tsunami. But damn no! I dismiss the thought from my mind. I wish my family is still alive. They are, I know it. The building we live in is tall and strong enough to stand the monstrous wave. Dad must have realized that he had to hurry with Mom and Mona to the roof. I'm quite sure he did that.

I raise my head, leaning backward on my palms, watching my new companion, Sherif take off his T-shirt. He gently lays Farah, his sleepy daughter, on the floor, rolling his T-shirt below her head.

"Those aliens have played it well." Sherif looks at me. "The EMP was just paving the way to their massive strike. They wanted to make sure that even if there were any survivors, they wouldn't be able to call for help."

He reminds me of Dad's theories about the Invaders. Yes, Dad has been right about them since their first appearance. I'm astonished that I didn't see what Dad had no doubt about. The Invaders didn't travel all that distance across the galaxies just to have a look and say hi. The government should have expected their first attack before its happening. I'm not sure how we could have evaded it, but I guess there are certain measures to protect our electronic stuff from electromagnetic waves.

"But why Alexandria?" I mutter, bracing my knees. "What is so special about us?"

"They didn't bring their huge spaceship only to destroy Alexandria." He smirks. "I think they turned all coastal cities into ugly versions of Venice."

"The coastal cities," I muse. "They won't stop there."

"I hate to say that, but I'm afraid the next wave of alien attacks will target inland cities to finish us off," Sherif puts in.

Or maybe they have attacked those cities already. Currently, we have no idea what the hell is going on in Cairo. Now I realize that the sci-fi movies have cheated the entire humanity for ages. Even in their most pessimistic scenarios, there was always a battle between us -humans-and aliens, and we always won at the end. Even in Independence Day, we found a way to manipulate their defensive shields, right? But look at us today. We are vanquished, and not a single missile or a laser beam is seen. Nobody has warned us from aliens who can make tsunamis-and who knows what's coming next?

There is no battle, and there will be no battle. The war is over before its start.

"So, now what?" I ask.

"We must reach dry land," Sherif suggests, his eyes scanning the roof. "We will use anything possible to make a raft that takes us out of here."

"But you just said that the next wave would-"

"Forget what I said," he interrupts me. "I'm just speculating, but we can never be sure what's really happened. Let's pray the aliens won't like it here, or perhaps they catch cold and die sneezing. Until this happens, we will do what it takes to survive and get help for all other survivors here. Hopefully, our families are among those survivors."

I see little sense in his plan. If we find a way to get our asses out of here, why don't we just go directly to our families and take them out with us?

And a raft? We are stranded on a roof, and he's talking about using anything possible. All I find here is a shovel buried in a pile of cement and those wires where I hung my shirt on one of them.

"How far do you think we are from dry land?" I ask.

"That's a good question." He rises and walks toward the balustrade. "I'm no expert, but I presume the sea will carve its way into the soil until it settles down outside Alexandria by a few kilometers."

From his muscular built, he looks like a Special Forces officer, but now, he talks like a scientist. Not bad for a no-expert.

"A few kilometers?" I echo in doubt. "I thought the sea must have reached the Delta."

"I tell you what, arguing about this is a waste of time. I'll go down now to find some food and water for us." He goes to the roof door.

"Down? Down where?"

"My apartment is in the fourth floor. If we're lucky, the fridge will be intact."

"What about the other apartments? You're not the only resident here, are you?"

"It's a new block as you see. Or it used to be." He smirks. "All the neighbors we have are two families in the first and second floor. The rest of apartments are not yet finished."

All the neighbors he had, he must have meant. May God have mercy upon their souls.

Should I offer to go down instead of him? His daughter will be scared if she wakes up before his return. But I think he's the man for this job. He knows where he is going to search in his flat.

"Keep your eyes on Farah," he demands. "If she gets up for any reason, reassure her that I didn't go anywhere, and I'll be back soon."

"Don't worry." I glance at her, hoping she stays asleep until he comes back. I'm not sure if I can handle a panicking child.

He goes downstairs while I stay on the roof. Minutes pass, but I have no watch to tell how long he has been down there. Feeling worried, I go to the stairway and yell, "Sherif! Can you hear me?" My yell echoes in the stairwell. I repeat my call a few times, but no response.

"I'm here, Ali!" he yells at last. I can hear his panting from here.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he gasps. "But I can't open the door. Something is blocking the way behind it. I'm going to try to enter from the window. The flat above mine is vacant."

"Don't go now! Take your time to catch your breath!"

"Don't worry about me! Just keep an eye on Farah." He points his finger upward at me. "She will be terrified if she finds herself alone."

I return to the rooftop to resume babysitting. The little girl is turning now. Her eyes are wide open when she asks, "Where's Dad?"

"Dad's okay, Farah." I approach her.

"Where's he?" She weeps. Here comes the moment that I've been worried about.

"No, no, no, Farah. Don't cry." Softly I shush her, laying my hands on her shoulders. "Dad won't be happy if you cry. He's just bringing us something to eat."

"This is not true!" She folds her arms, shaking her head. "All shops are closed today!"

"Yeah...you're right." I didn't have the intention to tell her how her father was exactly supposed to get us food, but she leaves me no choice. "He is now in your apartment, and he'll be back here at any second."

"But our apartment is sunken now!" she protests. "How is he going there?"

"Daddy is a good swimmer, right?" I manage a fake smile. "He's an Alexandrian. Don't worry about him."

"I want Dad now!" She sobs, running toward the roof door.

"No, Farah, no!" I catch her with both hands. "It's too dangerous to go there!"

She screams with one word, "Dad!"

"Listen, listen, listen." I lower my voice, trying to calm her down. "I'll go and tell him to come back." I look her in the eye, my hands on her cheeks. "Do you hear me? I will bring him back, okay?"

She nods silently, her eyes teary.

"But promise you won't follow me downstairs," I continue.

She nods again.

"Good girl." I pat her on the shoulder. "Now lay your head on Dad's T-shirt and wait for our return."

"But I don't want to sleep," she protests.

"Don't sleep if you don't want to," I sigh. "Just have some rest until we return, okay?"

I watch her walk reluctantly toward the rolled T-shirt. "Good girl," I note before I hurry downstairs. I'm afraid I'm too late already. No one can hold his breath underwater this long.

Two minutes-maybe less-are all I have to finish my rescue mission. I suck in the deepest breath I can take before I dive into the sunken stairwell. Fortunately, the vacant apartment above Sherif's has no door or windows. I exit the vacant apartment through its balcony and dive downward to Sherif's apartment. Stay calm. I know holding breath underwater is mostly a mental exercise.

Oh God! Here he is!

The fridge is flipped on its side with Sherif's body above it. His open eyes scare the crap out of me. I struggle to keep my composure as I'm about to swallow water. It's my first time to look at a drowned man's face.

I swim toward him and haul his body with me. Why are you doing this? He's dead already, and you're killing yourself.

I believe it's the right thing to do, but I must listen to my mind now. My lungs won't stand more than a few seconds, and I still have a long way to go with this body.

I'm really sorry, Farah. I let Sherif's body go before I rush toward the balcony and rise to the above floor. I see the doorless exit of the vacant apartment, which is just below water surface.

HUH!

I gasp as I surface. I raise myself above the handrail and lie on the steps.

And I burst into tears.

All I've been doing today is failing others. Sherif's death is my fault. Yes, I took part in killing him. I must admit that inwardly I was somehow glad to stay on the roof and let him do the job underwater.

What am I going to tell that little girl waiting for her Dad's return? Recalling how she was alarmed when she didn't find her father next to her, I'm really scared of her reaction toward the news I'm bringing to her.

Wiping my tears with the back of my hand, I go upstairs to the roof. She sprints toward the door as I step in.

"Where's Dad?" she asks, terrified.

"Farah." I take a deep breath when I squat down in front of her. "There's something I have to tell you."

(2)

It's nearing dusk, and yet Farah's still weeping in my arms. A too-massive shock for such a little child.

Sherif's dead face haunts me every moment. In the beginning, it was the scariest sight in my life. But when I imagine it could be Dad's face instead, it makes me mad. I'm mad at those frickin' aliens. I'm mad at myself.

My mouth is so dry, and my empty stomach growls. I guess she feels the same, but the poor girl only whimpers 'Dad.' Time to finish what he father has started. The sun will fell soon.

"Farah," I say in low voice. "Are you thirsty?"

She nods silently.

"Me too," I continue. "I'm sure you understand that I must go down to bring us water, right?"

"Are you leaving me alone?"

"I'll be back, I promise."

"You told me you would bring Dad back, and you didn't."

"Not this time, Farah." I hold her shoulders. "Trust me." I see doubt and fear in her eyes as I leave her, but I have no choice. This is what I must do for both of us to survive.

It's my third dive into water today, but I feel calmer this time. I'm not going underwater because I'm afraid of dehydration or starvation until death. I'm diving because I've sworn that Farah will survive.

Sherif's face doesn't annoy me anymore as I pass by him in his sunken flat. The way I found him above the fridge a few hours ago makes me guess how he died. Most probably, the fridge was flipped, with its door facing the floor, and Sherif must have exhausted himself while overturning it.

Hopefully, his sacrifice won't go in vain.

As I open the miraculously intact fridge, I grab two bottles of water. There's nothing edible I can plunder. Scanning the kitchen quickly before I leave, I spot three tins on the floor. Without checking their labels, I push them into my jeans pockets. Most probably, they're tuna tins-I hope.

I swim the same way back to the stairwell. My head hits something as I surface. It's the same floating door whose owner is someone dead from either the first or the second floor.

I feel better while I'm returning upstairs to Farah. This time, I kept my promise to her. Her eyes widen in astonishment when I step into the roof, as if she didn't believe I would come back. She hurries to me and snatches one of the two bottles from my hand. "Hey! Hey! Slow down." I grin to her, but she ignores me, gulping water from the bottle.

"Don't finish it all," I say. "We still have a long journey ahead."

"What journey?" she asks.

"Tomorrow morning we leave this place to find somewhere safer than here."

"But we're safe on the roof."

"Look." I empty my pockets. "This is all our food. And the bottle in your hand is half the water we have. What will we do when we run out of food?"

"I don't know." She shakes her head.

"You see? That's why we should leave as soon as possible."

"But how are we going to leave? The sea is everywhere."

"I've found a very small boat for us." I glance at the shovel. "And its oar."

(3)

Today, I'm going to beat my personal top score in stupidity.

My untrained biceps scream as I haul the floating door from water. Farah follows me as I drag it into the vacant apartment above-its floor is still wet from the tsunami wave slap.

"This is no boat," Farah notes, carrying the two water bottles.

"This is better than swimming." I place the door at the edge of a window that has no glasses.

"I'm not coming." Farah shakes her head.

"The sea is calm," I reassure her, heading to the apartment doorstep where I left the shovel-the oar.

"Why don't we just wait for help?" she asks.

"Because help is not coming." I put the shovel on the door.

"Why? The police must help us."

"The police don't know about our problem," I let out a breath of air. "That's why we're going to them to tell them what happened."

"I'm so scared," she whimpers.

I carefully push the door from the window. Now it's in the water, but I'm still holding it. "Come on, Farah. We must do this together." I motion her toward the door. As she approaches in hesitation, I give her my hand. She holds it, mounting the back of the floating door.

"Don't let me go," she cries.

"I'm not going anywhere without you." I slowly crouch next to her. She screams when the door wobbles.

"Listen," I say. "Keep yourself low, don't make sudden moves and everything is going to be alright."

She grovels on the door, her left hand clutching my jeans. "Much better," I note, moving my buttocks to the center of our boat. Holding the heavy shovel with both hands, I realize that rowing with it is much harder than I thought. Anyway, I keep my movements as smooth as possible to maintain our balance, and also not to get easily exhausted.

Farah's fingernails are almost piercing into my skin through the jeans. I'm not less nervous than her as we gradually get further from the tall white building. It's not the sea surrounding us that makes me nervous. It's me trying to master the art of rowing...with a shovel.

According to my common-sense-clock, we are half an hour after sunrise, which is like 6 A.M. We still have a long day of rowing ahead of us. I understand now why in historical movies they chain and whip the oarsmen. The white block is still standing tall behind us-bearing in mind that half of it is submerged-yet my arms call for a break. Maybe I should row for fifteen minutes and rest for another fifteen. This will give us around six to seven hours of rowing in daylight; around four kilometers before nightfall-if my calculations are correct. Shit! We are not going where with this pace. I'd rather row for thirty minutes and rest for fifteen. This will give us around...damn! My mind is too muddled to do the math. Anyway, I've started a one-way ride. The only valid conclusion for the time being is: keep moving.

"I want to go back," Farah weeps.

I keep rowing without answering her. Going back to her block is what I want too, but I remind myself that staying there is only an option to die

You're escaping from death by dehydration to death by drowning.

(4)

From the beginning, I knew it was a stupid idea.

But when night falls, I realize that I didn't give this idea its right estimate of stupidity.

It's true this is not my first dark night. But I spent the previous two in concrete buildings; not on a piece of wood floating on a hissing sea in a dark world.

"Hold me tight, Farah." I try to sound confident, but my nervous voice betrays me. As the sea shakes our boat, I recite all the verses I remember from the Quran, groveling with Farah in my arms to make sure she's still there. I can hardly see her face under moonlight, but I can imagine from her wet cheeks and pounding heart.

"I don't want to die." She weeps.

"It's going to be alright." My voice trembles. "The sun will rise soon."

(5)

The sun rises, but not soon as I promised her.

"I'm sorry, I lost the water bottles." She chews her lower lip.

"And I lost the shovel," I sigh as I raise my head. "But I still have two tuna tins in my pockets."

I gaze at the horizon, wondering where this sea ends. I have no idea how far we have gone, and in which direction. We may stay on this door until we die of thirst before we see dry land.

"What are you doing?" Farah asks as I get myself into the water.

I should have done this from the beginning. While pushing the door with both arms, I kick with both legs in opposite movements; one leg kicks upward while the other kicks downward, and vice versa. We are heading south faster than yesterday, I presume.

"Where are we now?" she asks me this question every time I rest my legs, leaning to the door carrying her. As this is my fifth break today, this is the fifth time I hear this question. In the four previous times, my reply was always 'en route'. Perhaps she needs to hear the truth.

"I don't know," I answer impassively.

"How don't you know?" She raises her eyebrows. Her shocked look kills me.

"I mean I don't know the name of this exact location of the sea," I say. "But don't worry. We're going in the right direction; south."

"How do you know the right direction? The sea looks the same everywhere."

"Good question." Yeah right, but not the right time for a science lesson. "From the sun."

"Then, what you do at night when the sun is not there in the sky?"

The night. I don't want to think about it now. "At night, we don't go anywhere," I sigh. We just pray we will survive to the next sunrise, I want to say.

"Are we going to spend another night in the sea?"

"We'll know, Farah. Just don't think about it from now."

"I hate night. I was so scared," she mumbles.

"It's too hot today. I think the sea will be calm tonight." I don't know. It's just a white lie. "Now, let's keep moving."

To me, the fear of another night ride is a more powerful motive than the hope of finding land. The conversation I've just had with Farah makes me kick stronger.

"Boat!" Farah cries, pointing behind me.

Without thinking twice, I turn as I hear the word. Yes, the girl is not imagining things. That floating object is a boat. A BOAT!

"HEY!" I holler as I never hollered before. Farah joins me and screech with her little voice.

Damn! Is someone steering that thing? Or is it just drifting out to sea?

"HEY!" I holler again. "OVER HERE!"

I'm not hallucinating, am I? Someone is waving to me from that boat.

"Thank God. Thank God. Thank God," I mutter. It's the brightest moment in my last seventy two hours. "We're saved, Farah." I turn to her. For the first time, I spy a flicker of a smile on her face.

The small boat with two oars approaches us with two people on board; a grey-bearded man and a girl of my age. I push our door slowly until it touches the boat. The man-who seems to be a villager-reaches for Farah's hand first before he pulls me from the sea.

"You and your little sister were destined to live, son," the man says as I sit next to him. "Actually, I was heading back home as I believed I wouldn't find any more survivors other than this girl. Can you imagine? Ten boats from our village have been looking for survivors since yesterday. I hope they rescue more people."

"I hope so." I mean every word. "Can, please, we return to Alexandria? I need to find my family."

"This means another night in the sea. I need to bring more drinking water from home first," he replies.

"I'll do whatever you want. Just take me there," I beg him.

"You're insulting me, son." The villager frowns. "Do you think I'm expecting anything in return from you? It's not like this at all."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Don't say anything." He looks upset. "You'd better have some rest until we return. I assume you've been in the sea for quite some time."

I bit my lower lip, thinking of how I can resolve this misunderstanding. I hear Farah, who's sitting behind me, tells the other girl her name. "And you?" Farah asks her.

"My name is Shakinaz."

I'm sure I look too awkward when I turn my head sharply to the girl, my eyes widened. "Your name is Shakinaz, you said?" I ask.

The girl jerks her head backward. "Yes?"

Her name is Shakinaz. And she is not bad looking at all. I can't help laughing. Now? Why now? I will never understand destiny's arrangements.

"Do you have a problem with my name?" she asks, her delicate eyebrows drawn together.

"Not at all." I shake my head with a grin on my face. "On the contrary, I believe it's an interesting name. No, a unique name."

She stares at me as if she's watching a maniac right now.

"It's Persian, right?"