Is my mother’s body lying in the grass down below this window? Is she in a hidden room just waiting to be opened?
I’m never going to know.
I didn’t expect it to hurt so much.
The screams and darkness mix together, and I fall willingly into it.
Chapter 11
I'm sorry
Mordecai
Seven days after the Night of Falling Stars
I park my huge SUV in the carpark and lean on the steering wheel, taking in the disaster in front of me. The grey, dreary weather is the perfect backdrop to this apocalypse. I almost turn the truck back around and drive home.
Almost.
Instead, I stare at the shop, trying to ignore my own urgency, exhaustion, and desperation. I’ve never experienced days like these. I don’t think anyone has.
My eyes are burning, and my body is trembling from lack of sleep and fatigue. My lips are cracked, and I can’t remember the last time I ate. I live off the fire of fear and what I stand to lose should I fail.
The normal uniform parking of customers’ cars is haphazard bedlam; there’s even a car lying on its side, windows smashed. People are screaming and families with trolleys filled to the brim rush out of the shop, brandishing weapons to keep everyone else back. Worse are the sick people who are laid out on the ground, forgotten, unattended.
“How have we come to this?” I murmur.
I wonder if the families of the sick people are waiting for them. Or if their families left them. The things I’ve seen in the last few days have reshaped my entire view of this world. Alphas have abandoned their betas and omegas; omegas have killed their alphas. Betas are being slaughtered as people try to find out why they and they alone are immune. Before the power went, I’d sat glued to the TV, tears running down my cheeks. I’d wept for our world, for my small family.
What’s going to become of us?
A tall, thin man runs past me, naked and painted with blood, cackling madly as he clings to a box of ramen like it’s the antidote to this nightmare.
It’s been like this at the four shops I’ve been to; this is my last option to find what I need. But the world has gone mad, and I don’t understand the rules anymore. Summoning my willpower, I jog to the store and push through the crowd, squeezing through the gaps between fighting people and averting my eyes from the outstretched hands of those who are pleading for help.
It takes more time than I have to get to the section I need. The shelves are empty; water, toilet paper, and canned food went first. Throughout the store, helpless people stand crying over empty shelves. I know this is a waste of time, but I have to try.
Medication would have disappeared, too, but maybe there is something. I need it. For them. It’s worth the risk.
My omega is lying in bed, moaning in agony, and my alpha is so pale he looks close to death. He’s been like that for two days.
I am resigned to the thought that I will lose him, but I can’t bear to see her in pain.
No painkillers.
Not even a single tablet.
I stare at the tag with its price and name and the empty, desolate shelf above it. The weight of my failures presses on me. I reach out and run my hand over the empty shelf, hoping by some miracle that something will appear.
It doesn’t.
I turn away, gritting my teeth, blinking back the exhausted tears. I shouldn’t have left home. If I could rewind time, I would do it. I would go back to the day a week ago before the news broke. Seven days ago, everything was fine. The world was fine.
Seven. Fucking. Days.
It’s all gone to hell. What happened?
I push past people, resisting the urge to lash out at them. Everyone is scared. All the essentials are gone; the government fell on day three. The power went out yesterday. The world has become a war zone.
