The Invasion

6 | Grief

A second man steps forward. His facial features bear an uncanny resemblance to the first man from before, but he's a lot less intimidating. Brothers, I assume. "This is batshit crazy," he remarks. "Now we have evolved sea aliens chasing after our asses. Did you see that enormous catfish snapping at me earlier? With legs."

His brother pulls him back into his initial spot. "Matteo."

Matteo shrugs and retreats to the wall. Charles steps into the center of the room with Emily backing him up, or more like sticking close to him for comfort.

He stares at each of us slowly with a somber, pained expression.

"This place may be a bit of a squeeze," he says, "but I hope we can all accommodate one another until we hear from the authorities before deciding on our next course of action. Also, keep your voices down. We don't want to attract those things again."

The last man, the one who's holding onto his wife and child, thanks him. "Thank you, Charles. You're a life savior. We wouldn't have known what to do without you."

All of us offer our words of gratitude as well until Charles holds up a hand to stop us. "You're welcome. I would have done that for anyone," he smiles weakly. "Emily, can you bring out the first aid kit? Roxie's little girl is bleeding."

His eyes zeroes in on me, especially on my injured arm. Immediately, everyone follows his line of sight and stares at me.

My fists clench tight, and my nails dig into my skin painfully. "I'm okay," I breathe. My voice comes out more stable than I thought, even though I'm falling apart on the inside. "I'm not the only one who's injured."

I gesture to everyone, knowing that most of us suffered from scratches. Even the kid's knees are scraped and bleeding.

All of us check our conditions. Emily rushes off to get the first aid box, whereas Mom is forcing me to the floor. "Sit down, Delia. We need to clean your wounds. The last thing we want is for you to get a fever from an infection."

"Mom." My voice drops to a low whisper so that only she can hear. "You know I won't–"

She cuts me off quickly. "Hush, Delia. Rest. Let me look at your arm."

A minute later, Emily comes back. Mom cleans up the puncture wounds which I've gotten during my brawl with the serpent earlier. She wraps a thick bandage around my arm and checks my other hand and legs for other injuries. When she finds nothing that's serious, she urges me to rest.

My voice comes out like a squeak. "Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I lost Maddie," I confess bitterly. "I didn't get the chance to find her."

Mom takes a deep breath. "Delia," she says softly, stroking my hair. "Maddie will be fine. She's smart and knows how to keep herself safe."

I shake my head hopelessly. "But what if she isn't? What if she hurts? What if she's dead?"

"She won't be. We'll look for her soon, I promise."

"What about Gramps? And Aunt Reese? You didn't manage to contact them?"

Mom has always put up a strong front before me, but this time, emotions slip through the cracks in her shield. Her face crumbles, and that's all it takes to give me the answer. "I tried, but the calls didn't get through. They weren't returned either. Not even a text."

I cuddle right up next to Mom and bury my face in her shoulder, unable to suppress my tears any longer. "You think they are still alive?"

She hugs me back, burying her face in my hair. "I don't know, Delia," she sniffles quietly. "But I sure hope so. We can only pray they're safe."

We exchange words of assurance for each other, but both of us know the situation will not get better. In fact, this is just the beginning. More blood is about to be spilled and we are losing out to an unknown race in terms of strength and speed.

Yet, there's nothing we can do about it. We're trapped here. Waiting for the government to provide instructions. Waiting to be saved.

And perhaps, in this inch of time we have, we can use it to mourn the dead.