Day One-Two: Gear
They crept forward, every step a calculated risk. Ethan's eyes darted constantly, searching for any sign of movement. The street was a war zone - overturned cars, shattered glass, and worse things he tried not to look at too closely.
A piercing shriek split the air. Ethan whirled, his blood turning to ice as he saw one of the creatures bounding towards them, its elongated limbs propelling it with terrifying speed.
"Run!" he whispered, shoving Megan and Zoe ahead of him.
They sprinted down the debris-strewn street, the creature's clicking growing louder with each passing second. Ethan's mind raced, searching for a way out. He spotted a narrow alley up ahead.
"There!" he gasped, pointing.
They veered towards the alley, but just as they reached it, a deafening explosion rocked the ground. The blast knocked them off their feet, sending them sprawling in different directions. Disoriented, ears ringing, Ethan struggled to his knees.
Through the smoke and dust, he saw Megan being pulled to her feet by a group of survivors who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. They were shouting something, gesturing urgently.
"Ethan! Zoe!" Megan cried out, her voice barely audible over the ringing in his ears.
But before Ethan could respond, another creature burst onto the scene. The group of survivors, Megan included, turned and ran, disappearing into the chaos of the street.
Ethan's heart pounded as he realized Megan had been separated from them. But there was no time to dwell on it. He scrambled to his feet, searching frantically for Zoe.
He found her huddled against a wall, her eyes wide with terror. "Mom?" she mouthed, looking around desperately.
"She got split up," Ethan said, pulling Zoe to her feet. "But she's smart. She'll head for the house. We have to go. Now."
With one last agonizing look in the direction Megan had disappeared, Ethan led Zoe through the alley. They ran through a maze of back streets, the sounds of pursuit fading behind them. Finally, mercifully, Ethan saw the outline of his house looming ahead.
He approached cautiously, the backyard was a disaster - the fence torn down, the dogs nowhere to be seen. Ethan's heart clenched, but he pushed the grief aside. There would be time for mourning later. If they survived.
He led Zoe to the back door, carefully testing each step for loose boards or anything that might creak. At the door, he pulled out his keys, wrapping them in a handkerchief to muffle the jingle before slowly, painstakingly turning the lock.
Once inside, Ethan's mind kicked into high gear. "Zoe," he whispered, "I need you to sit here, right in this spot. Don't move, don't make a sound. Can you do that for me?"
Zoe nodded, her face pale and tear-streaked. Ethan gave her shoulder a squeeze, then set to work.
He moved through the house like a ghost, gathering blankets and laying them over every surface. Anything that could potentially make noise - glass, metal, loose floorboards - he carefully removed or secured.
In his gun safe, Ethan retrieved his prized hunting possessions - a suppressed bolt-action rifle and a suppressed handgun. He then filled a backpack with essentials: first aid kit, binoculars, water filter, flint and steel, rope, flashlights, and as much canned food and water as he could carry.
Returning to Zoe, he handed her the hunting knife she had used earlier and a machete. She shook her head, eyes wide with fear.
"Yes," Ethan insisted gently. "I know it's scary, but we need to be prepared. Remember what I taught you."
He cut strips of cloth, wrapping them around their shoes to muffle their footsteps. As night fell, the sounds outside grew more terrifying - jet engines roaring overhead, explosions in the distance, and worst of all, the inhuman shrieks of the creatures.
Zoe broke down, tears streaming silently down her face. "Mom," she mouthed, her body shaking with suppressed sobs.
Ethan pulled her close, his own eyes burning. He wanted nothing more than to tell her it would be okay, that Megan would find them. But he couldn't bring himself to lie.
Instead, he reached into his first aid kit and pulled out two medical masks. He fitted one over Zoe's mouth and nose, then put on his own.
"These will help muffle any sounds we might make while sleeping," he explained softly. "And they'll filter the air, just in case."
He showed her how to breathe slowly and steadily through her nose, practicing until she got the hang of it.
As the night deepened, they lay down on the blanket-covered floor, holding each other tight. Ethan stared into the darkness, his mind replaying the day's horrors on an endless loop.
The silence of the night was oppressive, broken only by the soft sound of their breathing. Zoe shifted slightly, and Ethan felt her tense. She opened her mouth to whisper, but Ethan quickly pressed a finger to her lips, shaking his head. He leaned in close, his lips barely brushing her ear as he whispered, his voice so low it was barely audible even to himself.
"No talking at night," he breathed. "Sound travels farther after dark. The air cools, creating a temperature inversion. Sound waves get trapped near the ground, carrying farther than during the day. We have to be extra careful."
Zoe's eyes widened in understanding, and she nodded, settling back down. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, and they both drifted into an uneasy sleep.
The next morning, they were jolted awake by the distant thrum of helicopter blades. Ethan's eyes snapped open, his body instantly alert. He motioned for Zoe to stay still and quiet as he crept to the window, peering out through a crack in the blinds.
A military helicopter was flying low over the city, too low, a loudspeaker blaring announcements that echoed off the empty buildings.
"Attention citizens of Tacoma," the voice boomed. "This is a message from the United States military. We have established secure evacuation points along the coast. Vessels are anchored offshore to provide safe transport. The creatures, which we are designating as 'Death Angels,' have shown vulnerability to specific high-frequency sounds. We are deploying sound-based defense systems to create safe corridors for evacuation."
Ethan's mind raced as he processed the information. The military was still functioning, which was good news. But the announcement was also drawing every Death Angel in the city towards their location. And they were flying far too low.
As if on cue, the air filled with unearthly shrieks. Ethan's blood ran cold as he realized the sheer volume of the response. It wasn't just a few creatures - it sounded like dozens, maybe even hundreds, all converging on their location.
Zoe scrambled to his side, her face pale and drawn. She clutched at his arm, her fingers digging into his skin as the noise outside grew louder. Ethan could feel her trembling, could hear the rapid, shallow breaths that signaled the onset of panic.
He turned to her, gripping her shoulders firmly. "Breathe," he mouthed silently, exaggerating his own breath for her to mimic. Zoe nodded jerkily, struggling to control her breathing as tears welled up in her eyes.
Outside, the world had erupted into chaos. The helicopter's blades chopped through the air, the sound mixing with the inhuman shrieks of the Death Angels. Crashes and explosions punctuated the air as the creatures tore through anything in their path to reach the source of the noise.
Fifty, he thought grimly. There had to be at least fifty of the things, just in their immediate area. And if there were that many in Tacoma... his mind reeled at the implications. How many were there across the country? Across the world?
The voice on the loudspeaker continued, listing off evacuation routes and procedures, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to hear over the chaos.
Suddenly, a deafening crash shook the house. Zoe let out a strangled gasp, clapping her hands over her mouth in horror. Ethan pulled her close, his heart pounding as he realized how close that last impact had been.
Through the window, he caught a glimpse of one leaping from rooftop to rooftop. More shapes followed, a nightmarish parade of death heading towards the helicopter.
The military vehicle was struggling now, its flight erratic as it tried to evade the onslaught. Ethan watched in horrified fascination as one of the creatures made an impossible leap, its claws raking across the helicopter's tail.
It flew too low.
The aircraft spun wildly, smoke pouring from its wounded tail. The pilot managed to regain some control, but it was clear the chopper wouldn't stay airborne much longer. As it disappeared behind a row of buildings, Ethan heard the crash he'd been dreading, followed by an explosion that lit up the sky.
Zoe buried her face in Ethan's chest, her body wracked with silent sobs. He held her tightly, his own heart racing as the full impact of what they'd just witnessed sank in. The military - their best hope for rescue - had just been swatted out of the sky like a bothersome fly.
As the sounds of destruction began to fade, replaced by an eerie, expectant silence, Ethan gently disentangled himself from Zoe and motioned foer her to follow him.
In the kitchen, Ethan pulled out a sheet of paper and a piece of charcoal from Zoe's art supplies. He began to sketch out a rough map of Tacoma, marking their current location and the direction of Puget Sound.
No talking unless absolutely necessary, he wrote at the top of the page. We'll use hand signals and writing to communicate.
Zoe nodded, taking the charcoal with shaking hands. She hesitated for a moment before writing: What about Mom?
Ethan's heart clenched. He'd been trying not to think about Megan, but the worry was a constant presence in the back of his mind. He wrote back: She's smart. We'll find her.
Zoe's lower lip trembled as she read his response. She scribbled quickly: But what if they got her? Like the helicopter?
Ethan closed his eyes for a moment, fighting back his own fear. When he opened them, he made sure his expression was calm and confident as he wrote: Your mom is tougher than any helicopter. She knows how to stay quiet, how to survive, like me. We have to believe in her.
Zoe nodded, wiping away a tear that had escaped despite her best efforts. Ethan gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning back to the map.
They spent the next hour planning in silence. Ethan drew out potential routes, marking areas that might provide cover or resources.
As they worked, Ethan's mind wandered to Mike's store. The hunting and sporting goods shop was only a few blocks away, and if it hadn't been destroyed, it could provide them with crucial supplies. He added it to the map, circling it as a priority.
Zoe tugged at his sleeve, a questioning look on her face. Ethan realized he'd been lost in thought, his face betraying his tension. He forced a small smile and wrote: Just thinking about supplies we need. There's a store nearby that might have what we need.
Zoe nodded, then hesitated before writing: How are you so calm? I'm terrified.
Ethan paused, considering his answer carefully. The soft patter of rain against the windows gave him the cover he needed to whisper a response.
"When you've been through what I have," he breathed, his voice barely audible over the rain, "you learn to stay calm in chaos. In Afghanistan, we'd wake up to our base being bombed. You either learn to think clearly under pressure, or you don't survive."
Zoe's eyes widened, sadness in her expression. She'd known Ethan had served, but he'd never talked much about his experiences before. She wrote quickly: Were you scared then too?
Ethan nodded, his expression softening. "Terrified," he whispered. "But being scared doesn't mean you can't be brave. You're doing great, Zoe. I'm proud of you."
Zoe's chin quivered at his words, and for a moment, Ethan thought she might break down. But she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she wrote: What do we do now?
Ethan smiled, a genuine expression of pride this time. Now, he wrote, we get ready. We're going to that store tonight.
They spent the rest of the day preparing. Ethan rigged up simple noise traps using bottles and cans, creating distractions they could deploy if needed. He wrapped cloth around anything that might clank or rattle in their packs.
Zoe helped, her initial terror gradually giving way to a focused determination that reminded Ethan painfully of Megan. As they worked, Ethan caught her glancing at the family photos on the wall, her eyes lingering on her mother's face. He pretended not to notice when she slipped a small framed picture into her pack.
As night began to fall, Ethan found himself staring out the window, his thoughts turning to Megan once more. He hoped she was safe, that she'd found shelter.