A few hours later, the dead silence of the night cast an oppressive gloom on the house, which seemed to make Michael feel more depressed. He sat alone on his couch. His parents had been abducted by strange, unknown creatures that were most likely of an extraterrestrial nature. And somehow, that didn't even seem the worst of it.

The world, the entire world as far as he could tell, was silent and devoid of any life, or anything of significance at all. He knew there were others out there. The thought didn't bring him joy. And, he reflected, the fact that some of those others were monsters from some different place, well that really didn't bring him joy.

He sat in a trance-like state, unable to sleep. The night had become long and oppressive, the shadows cast by the night outside seemed to linger on the wall of the room, giving the place an eerie feeling, almost like a horror movie. And the longer it lasted, the worse he felt, his heart thudding in his chest.

Since the event earlier with the reanimated remains of his neighbour, the kindly old lady who he had spent countless afternoons and weekends helping in the past, his mood was dark. Even darker than when the whole apocalypse-thing started a few days before.

Now, Michael's eyes strained to see the time on the clock on the mantelpiece.

3.17 a.m. At least four hours until sunrise.

His mind raced and his body ached. He hadn't eaten a decent meal in over three days and his stomach felt hollow and empty. He hadn't slept in days either, but that did little to stop his mind from wandering, even in this late hour.

It had been just two days ago, he thought, that he had first come into contact with the various beasts that were invading the planet. His mind flashed back to that day when the screams of the children assaulted his ears as spider-creatures came out of a fissure in the ground, and now he could still hear those screams echoing in his head, still, as he remembered them. It wasn't something he could forget easily. But, pushing away the screams, the thought of the voices he'd heard earlier and the old lady he had somehow lifted and thrown without laying a finger on that really had him disturbed.

Had he done that? He knew it was magic. Had to be. He was in some fucked-up fantasy world now. It wasn't something that his reality-based brain could deal with. This was all crazy.

But it had happened.

How? He didn't know. And all he did know was that right now, he needed to sleep - even though his body seemed to fight it. He pulled himself upstairs, to his bedroom, and crawled under his sheets.

Laying his head down on his pillow, he could feel his eyes grow heavy with tiredness, his body starting to shut down from all of the stress of the day and his lack of sleep. And finally, with a bit of time, sleep began to come, and he fell asleep, hoping the next morning would bring him some clarity.

Michael's eyes snapped open. He sat up with a jolt, his eyes darting around his bedroom, as if expecting to find himself being attacked, and his body shivering from fear, and from the cold.

In a moment he was able to take in the sights, the smells and sounds around him and remember what was happening, what had happened and how he was still in the midst of this, this, situation. There were no creatures attacking him. No dead Mrs. O'Brien or whatever had possessed her. He was, at that moment at least, safe.

Michael let his head rest against the headboard and let his heart rate calm, slowly.

The dreams and nightmares of his night-time were beginning to fade now as he realised where he was.

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He looked down at his bed and noticed he had fallen asleep in his clothes and he had a light blanket covering him. As he started to drift off again, he admonished himself; you need to be smarter Michael. We're trying to survive here. Get organised. Tomorrow. Start tomorrow.

And as soon as he'd had that thought, he allowed himself to drift back off, for just a little longer. His dreams, he knew, were of strange worlds, full of danger, of the people that were there to protect him, of monsters and creatures of a terrible kind. He also dreamed of other, more normal, things too. He was dreaming of a conversation with a girl when -

He awoke with a start. There was something else, too.

He had a feeling that something had woken him up. That he had heard a noise. Michael sat upright. He listened.

There was something there. Something outside of the room he was in.

There was something in the hallway.

He heard a shuffling sound coming from the corridor, like a scraping, scratching, sliding sound, something like that. Something heavy and big moving down the hall outside his door.

It sounded like something large moving in a hurry.

His eyes snapped to the clock.

4.44 a.m.

He had a bad feeling in his gut that it wasn't good. That something was coming for him, something he would have to face, something that wanted him.

And then the scraping, dragging, shuffling, scratching stopped outside of his bedroom door. It stopped right there. Right in front of him, just feet from the bed where he was lying, not daring to move, holding his breath.

Michael knew there was something on the other side of the door. And that was enough for him to decide to move.

Michael slowly stood up from the bed. The bed squeaked.

The sound outside his door was a little louder than the squeak, and he heard something else too. Heavy breathing, like someone was out of breath. He errantly thought that he really hoped it was a human. A live, out of breath human. He didn't want to be burgled, but all the other alternatives seemed once in that moment.

Michael knew he had to move now.

Michael slowly turned the knob. It clicked open with a creaking noise, the latch popping out with a dull clunking sound. And he opened it.

Michael's eyes were greeted with an inky blackness that he wasn't used to, the hallway completely devoid of light, the door of the room across from him shut.

But as his eyes got accustomed, and as he heard that heavy, breathing sound, Michael could just make out a shadow across the landing moving towards him. And it was coming quickly, whatever it was, moving like some kind of beast. But it was human-shaped, he guessed. Smaller than him. Maybe five-feet tall.

Michael's body moved without a conscious thought.

His legs carried him out into the corridor, as he raised his hands.

"Hey!" He shouted out at the figure. "Get the fuck out!"

The thing kept on moving forward. But then it had to, to get to the stairs which were now between them and Michael.

As it reached Michael's position, the intruder was almost completely obscured from sight in the darkness. All Michael saw was a small figure, wearing dark clothes, moving towards the staircase, where the shadows were deep.

Michael, not really knowing why he did what he did next, jumped forward, trying to stop whoever this person was, but also to see who, exactly, it was. The two collided, Michael throwing his weight into a rugby-style tackle. It caught the other person by surprise and they fell, with Michael's weight falling on top of the other person. But in a flurry of kicks and scratches, Michael's assailant writhed, breaking free of Michael's tackle, pushing him off and away, before the assailant took off at pace.

"Wait!"

Michael yelled. He couldn't help it.

The intruder didn't stop.

"Stop!"

He called after them. Michael took off at pace down the staircase after them. Yet the woman - he was pretty sure it was a woman - seemed to be able to move at an incredible pace, as well as blend in almost supernaturally with the dark.

By the time Michael got halfway down the stairs, he saw a door in the distance, opening to reveal the dim, morning light.

And in that dim light he caught sight of his intruder for the first time; it was definitely a female.

"Wait!" he cried again.

But it was too late.

Michael reached the door to find that the person had already fled into the street outside, vanishing in the dim dawn light. Michael cursed under his breath and turned to head back inside. But then something caught his attention from the side; something moving. It was yet another person, across the road from his house, near Keith's house.

They weren't like the person who'd escaped his home just now; they moved like a regular-speed human. They were trying not to be seen, going the same way as the intruder, and Michael assumed they were together.

Making it seem like he was going inside and letting the issue go, Michael took a breath and watched out of the corner of his eye as the second human slinked away.

He made to quickly throw his shoes on and grab his bag. He was going to track these people down and find them.