Laureen was grateful she was lying down on the grass when a wall of wind speared across the shore. It uprooted Milton off the sand like a broom against a speck of dirt, sending him crashing into the lip of the waves. She almost laughed at the irony of it, but her amusement died when her body started edging with the wind's direction. Wait—

A clap of lightning streaked across the sky, a roll of thunder following suit. Gray clouds gathered from the horizon, darkening at every passing second. The water churned. Foam arose from the depths even though the ocean was calm a few minutes ago. Leaves rustled, the sound echoing from the canopies of Cangabayi's virgin forests.

The earth quaked, jostling the particles of sand off their low dunes. Laureen tucked her head under her arms and anchored herself on the ground. A strong gale blew once more, this time, tearing her boonie off her head. Her red hair burst into the open, waving with the torrents like a flag of war.

The shaking didn't stop. Dear heavenly biscuits. She had to find higher ground. But where? What about her teammates? Amy?

Oh, God. Amy.

She scoured the shore in search of the gummy child dressed in Jas' altered blouse. Splinters from the exploded crate lay on the sand. The tent, which she guessed to be the camp's kitchen, lay upturned, the slips and tent lines fluttering with the violent drafts. Food, tables, and utensils littered the ground. Was that Amy's doing?

A loud, metallic crunch whizzed from her right. She lunged to the ground, hands shielding her head just as a tractor arced over her before crashing to the sea. Metal crumpled under an unseen force before the engines erupted in a shock of smoke, fire, and ear-splitting screech.

Screams and other unheavenly sounds joined the chorus of rising waves, snapping trees, and crumbling stone. Laureen rolled aside as an entire tent dug trenches across the shore on its way to the murderous sea. Soldiers, ones who could still stand against the blasts of wind, shot at no one, desperately believing their rifles could save them. They were soon swept to their feet when one wall of force slammed into their feet.

Milton, blubbering from all the sand dragging across his face on his journey away from Laureen, never stopped screaming orders. Laureen pursed her lips and shimmied against the current. The wind pushed back against her, sending sand into her eyes, nose, and throat. Her crew. Where were they? She had to make sure they're alright first.

Staggering up, she spread her arms to balance her weight. She sloughed forward, fighting an impossible uphill battle. The sky roared. Rain poured from a hole in the heavens in a downpour, flattening her hair on her back and soaking her to the bone. The sand clung into her soles, slowing her progress but rooting her in place.

That's when the ground beneath her darkened at the arrival of something. She turned too late. A wall of salty water slammed down on her, flattening her to the ground once more. Brine scratched against her sinuses as she flailed. Her gut heaved when she punched out of the current and clambered farther into shore.

This wouldn't do. She had to stop this. But...how? The mural told her nothing about stopping apocalypses. Quid. He might know something. He...

Where was he?

His familiar voice in the form of a shrill screech rang in her ear in time. He had thrown his limbs around a palm tree and hung on for dear life. Jas and Stell were nowhere to be seen, and Laureen could only hope they're alright. They're still on parental consent, and she didn't want to face a lawsuit should she survive the end of the world.

Something clicked. The end of the world.

Amy.

She edged up against the wet sand, fumbling for the paper she tucked in her pocket. Let her hope the water didn't erode it to nothing. The sky was close to black now, with the gray deepening further. The rain didn't let up, roaring against the canopies and pushing her to the ground with its force. If not for the clumps of sand weighing her down, she would have fallen over on her face with the incessant quivering of the earth.

Her hazy vision, while pelted with the wind, sand, and rain, spotted a small figure in the distance, floating over the line of green surrounding the island. Amy. Laureen clenched her jaw and stepped forward with great effort. Her hips screamed in protest, but she forced them to take one more step. And another. And another.

Maybe she was running or floundering around like a damned astronaut—she didn't care. She had to get to Amy and make her stop this madness. The water rode up to her shins, and it wasn't going to stop soon. From the horizon behind her, the threat of a tsunami rumbled into existence. Not enough time.

Faster.

She passed by Quid's palm tree and spared her colleague no attention. The entire army camp by the shore had been blown into bits by now, remnants scattered into the fiery hold of the soggy sand. Everything washed away into the sea, except for her, plowing inland with nothing but her work boots.

She reached the spot where Amy could probably hear her. Then, she cupped the sides of her mouth, and bellowed, "Kunn talaimo!" The noise of the world ate away at her words, but she raised her volume. "Kunn talaimo!"

The child from the canopies, still shrouded with a faint shimmer, looked down at the source of the sound. Did she recognize it? Maybe. Laureen had half a brain that wasn't sloshed with brine, so she continued shouting those two words. Over and over.

Kunn talaimo. My child.

"Maanima ami," Laureen said, tapping on her chest to show who she meant. "Maanima."

The apocalypse tilted her head to one side, as if studying Laureen and the words she's saying. She recognized it—it's certain. Laureen reached up and wiped the back of her hand against her cheeks. Because of the rain, she didn't even realize tears had joined the party. Still, she craned her neck to the child. Her child.

"Kunn talaimo, maanima ami," she said one last time, hoping it would reach the right person.

Maanima ami. Mother is here.

Maybe it's what Amy wanted to hear all along, why she kept saying "mother" over and over until she couldn't. And guess what, it might have taken a while, but maanima ami. Laureen was here.

She opened her arms wide in an open invitation of an embrace. It's fine if Amy destroyed the world in her wrath. Laureen tried, despite her heart tearing into bits. I'm sorry, Riley, she thought to yet another child she abandoned years before. Mom's got to move on.

To save the world she helped destroy, she had to.

Warmth blossomed in her chest. A strangled gasp flew out of her chest as her arms wrapped around the weight pressed against her bosom. "Kunn ami," Amy said, holding herself up against Laureen's shoulders. "Maanima."

At that, Laureen clung to the child as if she's going to vanish if Laureen let go. Worse, Amy might start ending the world. Laureen didn't want that, so she held on. For as long as she could.

Laureen pressed the button to her trusty coffeemaker, staring into the space of her apartment's bleached wall. Her gaze wandered towards the picture frames hanging on the far side of the pantry. In one scene, she stood with the rest of her crew posing on an elaborate stage, being recognized for their efforts in Cangabayi. She had a goofy smile on, as if everything she experienced in the tropical island could be condensed in that single moment.

Next to that framed picture was the certificate the University and a couple of organizations whose acronyms flew by her head had awarded her and her team. After Amy had calmed down and the series of natural disasters eased back into their original, undisturbed condition, Laureen snuck Amy back into the cabin. She vaguely remembered fishing Jas and Stell from the wreckage and convincing Quid to climb down from his palm tree and that it's already safe.

Then, they made frantic phone calls as far and as often as the signal in the island could afford them. Penelope was the first to hear the first edition of their tale. The department head had arranged for them to fly out of the Southeast and back home as soon as possible, and when they arrived, they were shuffled into the private halls of the campus where the debriefing happened.

Most details flew by Laureen's head, especially the fine details, but she was sure the Minister of Defense was there, along with a handful of important officers in the government. Maybe the president had been there, but the fact didn't register back then.

The gist of the meeting was that they're allowing a high-grade threat to live in the open as a civilian provided Laureen was able to keep Amy calm and happy—a harder task than, say, exploring the deep caverns and coming up with an archaeological study about it.

That's how Laureen ended up back in the apartment, watching over Amy's development. Would she grow up and grow older? Who knew?Laureen should take it in stride as Jed suggested. Besides, her crew could use a few months at the dig without their overbearing manager. After the debacle in Cangabayi, the University granted her crew next year's budget to finally answer the follow-up questions Laureen wrote for them.

Were there more of Amy's cases in the caverns? What happened to the ancient Cangabayi civilization? How many apocalypses have they lived through? How does pabangtiin work, and can science replicate or explain it? How did the ancient civilization figure out how the ritual worked, and how effective was it?

So many questions out there, and Laureen could only have so much time. The distinct ding of the coffeemaker jarred her out of the reverie she found herself in. She withdrew the cup and took a sip. A loud crash echoed in the living room, and Laureen could only laugh.

She left her steaming coffee on the counter to go check on Amy, her little apocalypse.