Purple clouds shrouded the sky. Then there was a flash of yellow lightning. Cathy looked up while her parents still held her close, still in the middle of their picnic. Still just the three of them in that park that felt like it belonged to them.

"Oh, it's gonna rain soon," mom said before letting go of Cathy. "I think we should pack up for now, honey."

Dad nodded and went over to fold his canvas chair and gather his fishing kit. Mom and Cathy wrapped up the picnic. And soon they were in the car.

The ride back home was peaceful. A little too peaceful, Cathy thought. There were no other cars on the street except theirs. No other people on the sidewalks. No shadows moving in the windows of the buildings. No children playing in their front yards. No dogs, nor cats nor birds.

More yellow lightning crackled in the sky. "The weather forecast said that the sky would be clear today," dad said.

Mom chuckled. "As if the weather forecast is ever speaking the truth."

Cathy frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, they are wrong so often, they might as well be lying to us all, don't you think?" mom said.

Dad turned on the radio. There was static before a voice said: "The skies will be clear today. It might be a perfect day for a family picnic if you have a family that you get along with."

Cathy frowned again.

"Turn right, honey," mom said. "I wanna visit the convenience store."

Dad nodded and hit the gas after the light turned green. "Off to the convenience store."

The store was no different than the streets. No attendants, no customers, no cashiers, no cleaners. Halogen lights glistened against the long ceramic tiled floor. Big red discount banners and sales announcements hung on the pristine white walls like an open wound. Cardboard faces smiled at them, endorsing everything from a new flavour of cereal to a classic brand of soda.

Mom grabbed a basket and started browsing the aisles that seemed to go on forever. Dad followed her, whistling along to a pop song whirring on the intercom. The music seemed to echo a mile away.

"Where did everyone go?" Cathy said. "Why isn't there anyone around?"

Mom frowned at her. "What are you talking about, dear?" she said. "This is how it's always been."

"Don't you like it this way more, Cat?" dad said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Just you, your mom and I. Isn't this what you always wanted?"

"Isn't this all that matters?" mom said. Then her face turned into a frown and she started to cough.

Cathy gasped when she noticed that as Mom coughed her face turned paler. She rushed over to her mother. "M-Mom, are you okay?"

Mom looked down at her daughter. She smiled. "Of course I am," she said. Her lips started to turn red as she smiled while the rest of her face remained pale. "What even can happen to me?"

Cathy frowned. She took a step back. Something wasn't quite right. A loud crack of thunder rattled the doors and windows of the store. The sky outside had turned a deep, dark purple.

(And then there was the rain...) A voice whispered to her. She didn't recognize the speaker, yet it sounded familiar. That's when the intercom crackled, the weather forecaster's voice flooded the empty aisles of the store. "The skies will remain clear. I repeat, the skies will remain clear. This is a perfect time to take your family on a picnic if you have a family."

Mom and Dad turned to Cathy. "You okay, Cat?" dad said, his face was also pale with (disease) worry. There was that voice again. Cathy was feeling dizzy now.

"Would you like to go for a picnic, Cat?" mom said. "The park will be empty. Just the three of us. Isn't that what you want?" Mom's red lips in her pale face were like a white rose smeared with blood.

Cathy took a step back, shaking her head. "It's not you," she said in a frantic voice. "You're not my mom."

Mom looked at her, heartbroken. "I am, Cat," she said. "Why would you say that?"

"Because you are not real!"

"Cat, don't yell at your mother." Dad stepped up. "You are gonna make her cry with such harsh talk."

"She won't cry, she is not real! Her tears are not real!"

"What do you think, you are real?" dad said.

That's when Cathy fumbled. She looked down at herself, looked at her shorter stature, her smaller hands. This isn't how she remembered herself. She had been older in a life that she vaguely recalled.

"Now is a good time to go for a picnic with your family cuz that is all that matters in the end," said the voice on the intercom. Thunder crackled again.

"No," Cathy said.

"No?" Mom frowned.

"No, I'm not real." Cathy grit her teeth. "But I'm gonna find where the real one is!" She took off running down the aisle, away from mom and dad.

"Cathy, wait!" They chased after her. "Is this what you really want? We love you! Are you really gonna abandon us?"

Their words mean nothing, Cathy told herself, none of this means anything. This isn't even a place I know.

"Cathy, please stop running!" mom cried out after her. "Please, I don't wanna lose you again!"

Cathy stopped. A grey metal door stood in front of her. The green glowing sign above it read: The Exit.

Cathy frowned. Mom and dad had stopped chasing her now. They stood a few feet away from her. "Please don't go there, dear," mom said.

Cathy looked at them. "Why not?"

"Because if you go through that door, we'll never get to see you again." Mom said.

Dad took a step closer to her. "Please, Cat." His voice was desperate. "We are just trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" Cathy said.

"From whatever is beyond that door," mom said.

The green Exit sign had now turned red. Cathy frowned. "The thing beyond that door," she said, "is it the truth?"

"Whatever lies beyond that door, isn't what you wanna see, Cathy. Trust me," mom said.

"Now is the best time to go back to your family and have a nice little picnic. It's the perfect weather for it."

Pop music kept playing while more lightning crackled.

"Please, Cat," dad said. "Come back."

Cathy swallowed hard. Then she went through the door.

###

The door opened and the nozzles hissed and the decontamination was completed. Cathy was now in the living room of the house she had grown up in. The door behind her wasn't the metal exit door of a convenience store. But the front door of a house she had seen since her childhood. And when she looked down at herself she was quite taller than she remembered. And her clothes were also frail and worn with age.

She looked around the living room. Her eyes scanned the familiar couch, the bureau cabinet, the coffee table, the stairway, the radio on the side table. As if aware of her scrutiny the speakers of the radio hissed to life. The news reader's voice spilled out. "We assure you that we are the winners of the war with The Republic of Vardin and Moudrin. It's almost a given. The lives we've lost won't be in vain–"

Cathy ignored the news and walked towards her parents' bedroom. The door was ajar. She reached out for the latch.

(Is this really what you want?)

The voice whispered again. Cathy frowned. She pushed the door open and walked inside.

On the bed, lay her mom, pale and emaciated. Her skin was sticking to her bones, veins bulging under her flesh like tendrils. She'd lost most of her hair and her forehead looked massive. Her eyes had sunken deep into their sockets, as was the skin of her cheeks. She seemed to be asleep, because her chest still rose and fell with breath. But if not for that, she might've been dead for all anyone knew.

Cathy took a reluctant step closer to the bed. "M-Mom...?" she whispered.

(She won't answer. Don't you remember? She never answered.)

Cathy gasped as she heard the voice in her head again. "Who are you?!" she snapped. "And how do you know all this?"

(I know it because you do. I've been here, Cathy. I've always been here.)

"I don't get this." She frowned. "Where am I even supposed to find you?"

(Go through the door.)

Cathy looked behind her. And there was the sign again. The Exit.

Only this time. It was neither green nor red. The sign had turned purple. Cathy gave one last look to her mother who was still comatose and then she turned the latch.

(Keep in mind, Cathy. What lies beyond this door is worse than what you saw here and before this. It's not bad because of it's appearance. It's bad because of what it is gonna make you do. So think again before you open this door.)

Cathy thought for a moment. Then she went through the door.

###

This time Cathy was in the backyard. The sky was still a deep and dark purple. The grass had turned to ash. The ground was black salt. And there was a shadow looming on the other side of the lawn.

"Cat?" called out a hollow voice from the shadows. "Is that you?"

Shivers ran down Cathy's spine. Her legs threatened to give out.

(You can't go back now. You know what happens here. What you must do.)

That's when Cathy felt the weight of the gun in her hand. She hadn't even realised that she was holding it. It was almost as if it had manifested in her grip, like a carbon-fiber ghost materializing out of thin air.

The shadow stepped out of the shadows near the fence. Her father's pale face swam out of the darkness.

Her heart sank.

"Cat, don't you wanna give your old man a hug?"

She shook her head. "I-I can't do this."

(Do you want to be stuck here forever? You know this can only end one way.)

"Well, maybe I don't want it to end at all." Cathy looked behind her. And there was the door again. But this time, the latch was broken, the door was melted shut into the frame and the Exit sign was smashed out of shape.

She felt her stomach churn.

(You've already done this once. If doing this will get you out of here, why can't you do it again?)

"Because the last time I did it I didn't have to think of it too much! I had too many other things to worry about. It was easier to forget I ever did this!" she snapped.

(Is this what it is all about? Guilt?)

"Yes! Maybe that's what it all boils down to. My guilt!" She grit her teeth, now her back was against the broken door, as if hoping that she would dissolve in it and avoid the slow stalking footsteps of her father. She felt tears burning her eyes. "It's my guilt for doing this to him! My guilt for being the only one who survived! It should've been me! I should've been the one who got an end like this, not him!"

(And do you think, running away is gonna reverse any of this?)

"At least I won't have to be the one who shoots him!"

(This can only end one way, Cathy. You either pull that trigger and set him free. Or you let him get to you and you'll become the same monster that he is.)

Cathy looked at her father with desperation. She saw the rictus grin that was twisting his lips. She saw the vacant dullness of his eyes. The dead paleness of his flesh. This was a suffering way worse than pulling the trigger on him.That's what made it so difficult to just run away.

He took another step towards her. Thunder rolled across the sky. "You never told me," Cathy said. "Who are you?"

(Just like you, I'm the only survivor. I'm your last memory.)

She clenched her jaw and gripped the gun tighter. She took aim. Her finger twitched on the trigger.

(Do it.)

BANG!

###

Cathy's eyes snapped open, her chest sank deeply as she sucked in a large gasp of air. She sat up, panting and drenched in sweat.

The next thing she knew, a pair of arms had pulled her into an embrace. She heard a woman sobbing in relief right next to her ear. "I'm so glad! I'm so glad you are back!" the woman said.

That was Lisa. Cathy felt much needed comfort in her arms. In the chairs next to Lisa, there were Marie and Clint, smiling at her with the same relief that Lisa was sobbing with.

Cathy's chin quivered as she looked at them. "Wh-What happened to Sector 22?" she asked. "What happened to my home?"

Lisa looked at her, worried. "Don't your remember, dear?" she said softly. "I-It rained, Cathy. It's all gone now."

Cathy stared at her blankly. And then she started to cry.