Avalons

The Beginning

Avalons

Two years ago the Avalons invaded Earth, they came with their colossal spacecraft armed, merciless and hell-bent on eradicating the human race. It's been two years since I was orphaned. The Avalons came to Earth, while I was camping. Out of all the things I could be doing, I was camping. I was fucking camping under the moonlight with no concerns. Then the call came, ordering us to go home immediately because the Avalons had not come in peace, they were raiding our homes bringing them down to the ground.

We all rushed home, fearing what awaited us and who didn't. Most families were gathered at community centres or schools protected by the military.

Except for mine, I had been clutching onto my pathetic cellphone on hourly updates of my family. We travelled in fear that Avalons would ambush us. We weren't prepared, we would be sitting ducks in a bus if they caught us. Students and teachers were scared holding onto each other, saying goodbyes in case. I didn't say goodbye not once, I was going to survive this. My best friends sat on either side of me holding my hands, their heads bowed in prayer for their families and loved ones. I couldn't pray, I wonder if I did would God have spared them?

We reached our school, and my friends and their families were safe. I saw Raymond looking around for me, I escaped my best friend.I was envious, but while families were reuniting, no one would notice me stealing a car. My father was a police officer, I laughed at what he'd think of me stealing a car and driving into a territory recently invaded by extraterrestrial enemies with nothing but a stupid dagger that I had never used before. Fear made me stupid.

I reached home, it was broken. The garden was all messed up, the roof broken. My mouth dried, at the sight of my once beautiful home. I took a breath, then twisted the knob and the door creaked open. My home was absolutely wrecked, and hope dimmed. I stepped inside as quietly as I could. The floorboards creaked, and it scared me. The sight of blood on the couch made me nauseous. I walked my family and still could have survived this.

They had to survive this. They had to survive this. They had to survive this.

They had to survive this. They had to survive this. They had to survive this.

They had to survive this. They had to survive this. They had to survive this.

They had to survive this. They had to survive this. They had to survive this.

They had to survive this. They had to survive this. They had to survive this.

They had to survive this. They had to survive this. They had to survive this.

They had to survive this. They had to survive this. They had to survive this.

They had to survive this. They had to survive this. They had to survive this.

I step into our kitchen, no sounds. I see blood, for what seems like miles, and my Dad lying in front of my brother as if he died protecting Ron. My knees gave out and fell with a thud to the floor, my Dad's chest had a gaping hole in it like someone tore out his heart. Ron had his chest clawed, but Dad's injuries were worse. His eyes were glazed and still. I scrambled to my Dad and cradled his head. Blood soaked my jeans, and his skin felt cool. I closed my eyes and sobbed. My Dad and my brother had died. My brother had his eyes closed, his skin was warmer, and stubborn hope flickered again. I checked his breathing and he wasn't breathing.

I heard a soft growl and then footsteps, I was frozen. Mom walked toward me.

"Mom!" I cried "You are alive." But something didn't look right. Her mouth was caked with blood, her hands covered in it. Her eyes were black, all of it no white to be seen. She saw me, and let out an animalistic growl. Something was very wrong.

"Mom, what's wrong?" I had put my hands up but any movement startled her. She kept growling and edging closer to me and into the light, I looked at her hands. There were claws. Sheer rage took over me.

"You killed them!" I cried, suddenly clutching the dagger beside me. Mom lunged for me, her claws got my leg getting a scream out of me as I crawled away from her. I lay against the kitchen floor as she lunges for me again, but this time I jam the dagger into

Mom's head. I looked into her eyes they were returning to their usual blue, and she... almost looked relieved. Black blood sprays across my face. I'm paralysed by fear and shock. I won't survive if she attacks again. But she doesn't. Mom's body spasms against the floors, turning to black flakes and nothing but ashes. Ashes. Just ashes. Was she even real? My mom's dead.

My entire family's dead. Tears and grief come in tides washing me out. I wrap my arms around my knees and cry and cry when another sound startles me back to the reality that feels very much like a nightmare.

My brother groans and stirs, I scramble to him.

"Ron!" I shake him, and he whimpers. His hands rove to his clawed chest, which is covered in dried blood.

"Ron, wait don't." My mother was a nurse, she taught me what was needed for survival and I knew how to stitch wounds together, but I didn't know how to help someone whose injuries are too bad. I won't be able to save Ron if he's too hurt. I take a shaky breath.

"Don't touch your wounds." I limp to the bathroom to get the first aid box. I washed my hands with a blinding hot pain down my leg, and my mother's little ashes drained themselves into the sink. Taking a shaky breath, I willed my hands to still themselves.

I get hot water in a bowl and clean towels and go back and kneel beside Ron

"Ron you cannot make a sound." He nods.

I wring the towel " Bite this if the pain is too much but do not make a sound."

My voice sounds dead of any emotion as if my parents didn't die 5 minutes ago.

I dab hot water around the torn skin. I snap gloves on, sterilise the needle and start stitching. Rowan whimpers and cries as silently as he can. I can feel his heartbeat accelerating. He moves, but I hold him still. The blood is coming out but less as I stitch. Ron takes laboured breaths and sweats profusely. I stitch the three gashes across his chest, clean the rest of the blood and bandage him.

My hands shake as I hold my brother's "I'm so sorry Ron. I'm sorry, I should have been here earlier."

"It's ok." He squeezes my hand but it lacks his usual strength.

"We can't stay here, Ron."

I stitch my calf and bandage it too, if I lose consciousness we might as well be dead.

I make a run for Mom and Dad's room, grab the two guns he keeps and all the bullets and stash them into a bag. I grab clothes for us, and all the food left in this house. I haul all of this into Dad's car, the car I stole is all out of gas.

I have to make it out of here, or else they might come back for us.