The creak of the old door was the first familiar sound in what felt like a lifetime. The sun was already visible peeking out from the edge of the horizon.
Mikail's house was quiet. Too quiet. It was as if the commotion, battle, and near-death experience they experienced earlier were just an illusion
Grandma moved through the entryway with Mikail in her arms, his body still limp, though his breathing had settled into a slow, steady cadence. She placed him gently on the couch, wrapping him in a thick blanket as if it could shield him from more than just the cold.
Moona followed silently behind, her steps small, her thoughts louder than words.
Melisa was already there.
She sat on the floor, propped against the wall near the kitchen, her eyes hollow but alert. She had regained consciousness not long after they escaped the Zone, but her mind still reeled from the echoes of what she'd seen.
What she felt.
