I used to struggle a great deal with normal day-to-day life. How am I supposed to get used to any of this?

It’s one of the many things I think about as I follow Khalil up the stairs of this mansion under siege. Well it’s quiet on the inside for now, but I doubt it’ll stay that way. I have a strong feeling that this night is just going to keep on getting worse. First there was that whole ordeal with the Winstanley’s, which granted I got myself into, but in my defence, I tried my damndest to keep them at a distance and observe them using my sniper. How was I supposed to know that one of them was camping outside at that exact moment? And even after that, I still haven’t found a way to pay off my debt. I need to do it fast now that Khalil knows about it, before he starts asking questions. Why did Grace have to tell him? I feel like I’m racing against a clock now. Then you have the second coming of the mist. Christ. Just when you thought the death and destruction that constantly surrounds us could not get worse, this happens. I wonder how much the world will change. It's already lost structure and fallen to pieces the first time around, every feeble attempt to rebuild it squandered. Its gonna be a much more horrible world to live in now. And just as I was starting to find my place in it. I’m f**ked now. Truly f**ked.

Khalil and I climb to the top of the stairs, faced with a grand hallway. This one has crimson carpeting on it. Would be quite cosy if it wasn't for the blood stains seeping into it. I look down the hallway, surveying the area. There’s an area that leads towards an in-door balcony a few metres to the right off me, from there you can get a clear view directly towards the entrance door. Further down the hallway are entrances to a series of other rooms. No obstacles in the environment apart from two cupboards on either side of the hall and a broken painting on the wall. Good. I have to make sure I memorise these things, I’m a very clumsy person living in a time where you cannot learn from one honest mistake. It will end you permanently.

I double check that my sniper is loaded. It is. If you could see my hands right now, though. I’m trembling like an epeletic elderly man with hand tremors. I’ve not been this scared since, well since last week, but still. I look over to see how Khalil is doing on the other end of the hallway. Cool, calm and collected as usual. Honestly, how does he do it? A life on the street has probably made him accustomed to situations like this. He doesn’t worry about almost dying because he’s used to it. A tough life, but at least it’s made him useful. And what was I doing before the mist? Lazing about in the apartment, unemployed and unfocused, my younger siblings achieving greater things and my Dad trying desperately to make me move out. Pathetic doesn’t even begin to describe it. I wonder how my siblings are doing. I've not been able to contact them since then. Are they still in the county? Are they even still alive? I would have heard something if they were in The Land, right? They’re probably fine. Right?

Well there’s no point in worrying about that now, I have to think about If I’m still going to be alive in the next hour or so. I use my sniper’s scope to take a look out of the window and survey outside. Okay, it looks like they’re starting to calm down, we could play a waiting game, but that could take hours before everyone in the area leaves. And anything could spook them at any moment. I don’t think the rest of them want to admit it, but a fight with those on the outside is inevitable. Best to mentally prepare myself just in case.

Khalil gestures at me to hurry up as he paces his way further down. I catch up with him, my grip around my sniper is so strong I feel like I could accidentally snap it in half and tear the flesh off of my palm.

I hear the sound of a stifled cough coming from one of the cupboards in the hallway. I thought that maybe I was just hearing things, until Khalil looks in the same direction too.

“Did you hear that?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah” I answer.

Khalil lifts his weapon up higher, ready for action. The two of us approach the origin of the cupboard cough, slowly and carefully. Anyone could be in there, could be someone in need of help, could be someone attempting to kill us, could be someone pretending to be in need of help but will actually kill us. Please don’t be the last one, I can’t deal with the potential stress that would bring. Khalil slowly opens the cupboard door , revealing a blonde woman. I would say she was one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever seen, but her eyes are red from crying, her body shakes with anxiety and she looks like she hasn’t eaten for days - so I feel like that wouldn’t be …appropriate to say.

The blonde woman stares at us, her bright blue eyes darting back and forth. She is frozen in fear. I look over to Khalil, unsure of what to do. Khalil tries to offer a hand to her but this immediately sets her off. The woman starts to pant and shake in a visible panic which soon turns into hysteric screams. She jumps out of the cupboard and frantically attacks Khalil with flailing arms of frenzy.

“Leave me alone! Stay the fuck away from me!” she screams. “I’m not dying here! I’m not! Leave me alone!”

“Relax, please, we’re not here to hurt you.” assures Khalil.

The woman shakes her head so hard I worry it’s going to fall off. She continues to flail her arms, and scratch at us. One of her scratches meets my face, leaving a shallow cut where my cheek meets my beard.

“Ow!”I exclaim. I rub my face in pain as I see her attitude change completely. She starts to cower in fear.

“Calm-down it’s okay, he-.” repeats Khalil.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, please, I-, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” she interrupts frantically.

Khalil sighs. He draws down his rifle and unloads it and drops the rounds to the floor. He kicks the rifle over to the side and looks the girl deep in her eyes.

“We’re not here to hurt you.” he repeats.

The girl calms down, but remains apprehensive. Understandably. I’d be just as concerned if I found two big guys casually wielding guns as they walk through my home.

“Aren’t you part of the rioters?” she asks. We both shake our heads.

“No, we’re not part of the rioters. They want to kill us too.” says Khalil.

“Yeah, we snuck in here cause we thought it’d be a good place to stay. “Sorry”

The girl takes in a deep breath, officially calming down. That’s good, I can’t take another scratch. Khalil looks deep into her eyes.

“We didn’t just come here to camp in your house…I saw you through the window, you looked scared. Hundreds of people against one woman doesn’t seem like a fair fight to me. I thought we could help you.” explains Khalil.

She nods her head in comprehension. She calms herself down and hears Khalil out. Of course. Only he could make someone go from wanting to kill him to relax in his presence this quickly. If I had been the one who tried to explain things she’d probably have just scratched me again.

He points at himself and then me. “I’m Khalil and this is Cameron”.

I wave at her. She awkwardly waves back.

“I’m…Lysandra,” she says.

Khalil and Lysandra shake hands. As they do, Khalil looks deep in her eyes and slowly smiles. Lysandra smiles back, blushing slightly. Again, of course.

Isabelle and Grace charge up the stairs with their weapons at the ready.

“What’s going on here? Cameron, was that your womanly scream we heard?” asks Grace, an irreverent smirk on her face.

“No!” I retort. “It clearly wasn’t me!”

Lysandra frighteningly clutches onto Khalil’s arm.

“It’s okay Lysandra, that’s just Grace and Isabelle.” reassures Khalil. Isabelle’s face is rife with judgement as she looks Lysandra up and down..

“Did you just say Lysandra?” asks Isabelle, “As in Lysandra Devon?”

“Yes…” answers Lysandra.

“How the hell do you know her last name?” asks Grace.

“Her father owns Devon Manufacturers. Well owned” explains Isabelle. “So right now we’re in Devon Manor. For fuck sake, no wonder people are trying to tear the place down.”

I vaguely heard about the Devons before. I tried to get a job at one of their factories once but I messed up in the interview, as usual. It makes sense why the rioters were focusing on this mansion of all places. When the mist first happened, everyone who it had not yet killed directed their violent urges towards any corporation or government body that might have caused it, not resting until they tore it down. I’m surprised this place has stayed up as long as it has.

“This place has a lot of room for just one person” comments Grace. “Bit overkill”

“Are any of the other Devon’s still around?” I question.

“None of my immediate family no, it’s just been me for the past few weeks” laments Lysandra. She looks down to the floor in sadness, a teardrop escaping from her eye.

“It’s alright, don’t worry, you can stay with us now” assures Khalil.

“Really? Are you sure?” asks Lysandra looking around us with hopeful eyes.

“Sure, whatever” says Grace as she shrugs. She looks over to me and shrugs, I nod in agreement with her. Isabelle, however, shakes her head emphatically.

“No. No. No. No. No.” she asserts. “We came all this way just to paint a target on our back by having a Devon on our side? What the fuck is wrong with you, Khalil?”

“So you want to just leave her here to get swarmed and killed by hundreds of people just because her father owned a company?” asks Khalil. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Khalil and Isabelle engage in one of their intense, glaring matches. It’s like you can feel tension in the room whenever those two are on opposing sides. As if on queue to break the tension, the sound of a smashing window downstairs alerts all of us. With haste, Khalil reassambles his weaponry and bombs down the stairs. The four of us follow him.

We reach the bottom floor of the house to find a brick has smashed through the window and landed by one of the couches. Khalil knocks all of the pictures off of the black marble table in the middle of the room and turns over, presumably to use as cover. I knew it. A gunfight is coming. Only a matter of time before Khalil starts laying out instructions.

“Cameron, station yourself in the passageway that connects the living room to the hall and to the kitchen, set up your sniper to face the backdoor. Isabelle, wait by the backdoor in case he needs any help. Grace get behind the bar and uses the strongest rifle we have in that bag, from there you can cover both sides.” orders Khalil. “I’ll shoot out from the front over here”

“What are you doing?” asks Lysandra, her panicked state slowly returning. “What’s going on?”

“Soon, people are going to start storming in and we're going to have to kill them.” he explains to her. “I hope you're ready for that.”

Lysandra gulps. She nods her head as she stares into space, freezing up again.

Khalil takes her behind the black marble table where they both crouch down and hide. Isabelle gets into position, waiting by the kitchen. She passes the duffel bag of weaponry to Grace who rushes over to the bar. As Grace rushes to the bar she opens up the bag and retrieves a stand for her sniper. She tosses it to me. I awkwardly catch the stand and set it up on the ground.

“Relax Cameron.” I whisper to myself. “You’ve done this plenty of times before.”

I finish setting up my sniper, and load it, making sure to keep the safety on. I look into the scope and survey the area. A routine check wouldn’t hurt. I can see both the backdoor of the kitchen and the front door of the house from here, which is good. I look outside the smashed window of the living room with my sniper, noticing something strange.

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The crowd of rioters part like the red sea. All of a sudden they focus less on rioting and more on getting out of the way. Something is scaring them, moving them apart. Not something, someone, a group of people. I inspect the group further, trying to make out their leader. Holy fuck. It’s Declan. Declan O’Gallagher. No wonder the rioters were scared. Oh God. What the hell is he doing here? Is he here for me? Please don’t be here for me! Why is he here? Just my goddamn luck…

Khalil’s going to kill me if Declan’s gang doesn’t kill us first. Should I tell the others he’s coming? No point, they’ll find out soon enough.

The door is bust down open, the lock breaking off. I look towards Khalil and Lysandra who hide behind the table. Lysandra covers in fear, and Khalil's grip on his weapon grows stronger. I check behind the bar to see Grace’s widened blue eyes peeking over the counter. Isabelle stands calmly by the kitchen door, a kitchen knife in hand. Okay they’re ready. I have no reason to fear. I position myself further towards the kitchen in the passageway. From this angle I can still see the front door but I’m not in the main line of fire. Perfect.

Declan walks through the front door and into the main room, that shit-eating grin of his permanently plastered on his face as usual. He is protected by two men with riot shields made out of discarded car doors. He is closely followed by seven others. He’s brought his whole gang with him! Declan casually gestures at his men to close the door behind them. From his calm and somewhat chipper demeanour you wouldn’t guess that he just walked through a crowd of rioters and into a house of killers. Then again, it is Declan.

“Mr. Chambers!” says Declan in a singy-songy voice. “Yoo-hoo. Oh Cameron!”

My eyes dart towards Khalil. I can see it in his face. An intense rage he struggles to control. He recognises the voice. Khalil directs his piercing glare towards me. My anxiety grows worse by the second. I feel as if there is a heavy restraint against my throat and as if his eyes are burning holes into my head.

“It took a lot of time for me to find you here Cam-Cam.” mocks Declan. “Come on, I just want my money, I promise I won’t try to stab you this time.”

“Is that the guy you borrowed money from?” asks Isabelle.

I turn back to look at her. All I can muster is a weak shrug.

“Of course…” she grumbles.

In my defence when I first borrowed money off of him, I didn’t know that he was the Declan O’Gallagher. I knew nothing about his reputation throughout the land or his history with Khalil, his sister, Khalil’s brother…the grave. Honestly. Trust these things to happen to me, of all people. As I peak back into the living room I see that Declan is starting to lose his patience.

“I know you’re here Cameron you lanky little cunt, my sources never lie! Come out of hiding you coward before I blow this whole mansion up!”

Khalil's frustration reaches new heights. He slowly starts to emerge from his cover. What the fuck is he doing? Soon enough Khalil is stood up from behind the table, face to face with Declan, half a room away from certain death. Khalil aims his rifle at Declan who surprisingly seems happy to see him here.

“Khalil?” exclaims Declan, a giant malicious grin on his face. He gestures to his men to hold their fire.

Khalil’s glare intensifies once he meets Declan’s pale grey eyes. He grips and aims his rifle in a way that would intimidate any man. Any man but Declan.

“Well hello to you too!” laughs Declan. Khalil does not respond.

I see Lysandra looking my way. “Who is that?” she mouths. She’s about to find out.

“Last time we properly met you and your brother were together” he comments mockingly. “Whatever happened to him?”.

Declan’s men chuckle at his remark. Declan himself attempts to keep a straight face, but fails miserably. He seems to thrive on irritating Khalil to no end, and by the looks of it, it’s working. Khalil takes a deep breath and nods. Good, at least he’s trying to calm himself down.

“He was doing fine until some ugly little blonde prick decided he wasn’t going to let him rest in peace.” responds Khalil.

Declan chuckles heartily at the comeback. Khalil clenches his jaw and lowers his gaze.

“You know, Declan, I would have expected you to be more sympathetic,” he adds. “Especially with what happened to Ciara.”

Oh no, he’s done it. He’s dropped the sister card. God help us all.

The room drops to a dead silence. Declan’s smug and jubilant demeanour quickly fades.

“Well if that’s how we’re going to be…” he utters calmly as he reaches for his weapon. Before he can do anything Grace peaks over the bar with her gun pointed at Declan, she impulsively shoots multiple rounds but misses, instead killing one of the seven men that stood behind him.

“Shit!” exclaims Grace. “Oh well.”

As Declan and his men look in surprise at their fallen comrade, Khalil uses the opportunity to let off a few uncoordinated shots, killing another one of O’Gallaghers goons. He dives back behind the marble table for cover as a gunfight between both our groups properly starts. Told you this was coming.

I ready my sniper and take aim, but I am unable to get a clean shot in. Khalil and Grace relentlessly engage the gang with their rapid fire shots whose sound is only beaten by the fearful screams of a cowering Lysandra.

Declan picks up the car-door shield and uses it to block some of the shots with one hand and shoots back at Khalil and Grace with a pistol using the other.

The gunfire alerts the rioters from outside who begin to bang and smash at the doors more, desperate to get in and join the bloodshed. Great, something else for us to worry about.

I scurry up the stairs next and go onto the second floor, placing my sniper behind the balcony above that overlooks the main room. Okay let's do this.

I take a few well placed shots but I’m unable to get any kills as Declan’s men move around the front section of the house so quickly. I start aiming my shots ever so slightly to the left, to iron out my inaccuracy.

I manage to shoot one of Declan’s boys down. I should be slightly more relieved but if anything I feel the opposite. I feel sick to my stomach.

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, shooting things dead that is. I remember when my father first took me hunting. It was my sixteenth birthday and I was surprisingly good at it, a natural as some would say. Little did I know it would be the start of regular ‘bonding sessions’. I remember almost crying after every fox he made me shoot and I would always refuse to eat the rabbits we caught after a session. I guess over the years I could’ve told him that I didn’t like hunting, that I hated using the sniper, and that I hated killing. But after years of being bullied, mocked and ostracised as the wimpy black sheep of the Chambers clan, I wasn’t about to give up the one family activity which I was actually good at. The one thing that made all of them: father, uncle,my brother, my cousins, treat me with respect for once . But look where it’s got me now, killing actual humans, all out of fear for my own safety. Let’s just blame it on the mist, shall we?

It is clear that we are heavily outmatched at this point in the fight, I can tell as when I look down at Khalil, who isntead of shooting back, he is hiding behind cover, surveying the room. Probably trying to think of a plan.

He grabs a glass photo frame which he throws at one of Declan's men, purposely missing him by a fraction of a hair. This distracts the man for a split second, allowing Khalil to shoot him right between the eyebrows. Lysandra looks over at the smashed family photo with a tear in her eyes. Damn I feel bad for her. When your family has died so recently it must hurt to see your memories of them get destroyed too.

I hear Isabelle scream from the kitchen. Shit! I was supposed to guard the back entrance with her. I try to listen to her over the gunshots. All I hear is the sound of cutting flesh and a body drop to the floor, followed by a loud grunt from her. Good she’s alive. Wait, who was she fighting? Did the barricades from the back entrance break loose? As I daydream about the disaster , I hear a bullet whiz past my ear. That was close! Focus Cameron, focus!

“Cameron, cover me!” I hear Isabelle scream from the kitchen.

“Um, yeah , of course, okay!” I respond. I shoot a few sniper rounds at Declan’s men to distract them. Isabelle runs out of the kitchen and leaps behind the bar to hide with Grace who continues to shoot.

Khalil remains hidden behind cover as he continues to look around the room. He finds a remote on the floor and picks it up.

With great force he throws the remote at the TV, smashing it, allowing for a brief distraction for Khalil to kill another of the men, granting him multiple gun wounds to his chest and abdomen.

This gives me enough respite to actually focus on landing a shot, allowing me to dwindle the men down one.

“Will you not rest until you destroy all of my things?” cries Lysandra.

“I will when it stops working!” Khalil yells back. Lysandra dives her head into her hands. I understand her pain - you never forget the craziness of your first gunfight. I look towards Isabelle, who remains within cover behind the bar.

“Izzy, what are you doing?” I ask, panic in my voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the kitchen?”

“That door isn’t lasting any longer! I managed to stop one guy from slipping in but we’re going to have to find a way out soon!” she shouts up at me.

Khalil shakes his head as he listens to our conversation. Before he can respond, the rioters at the front door finally burst through the front door, knocking it down completely. Declan and his men run to the side to avoid the swarm as they barge in.

Khalil grabs Lysandra by the hand and runs away from the marble table and behind the bar with Grace and Isabelle. I try to shoot some of the rioters down but it's no use, my sniper is too slow. I hear the backdoor finally give way as well, bursting open. I can’t stay here any longer or I’m as dead as dog meat.

I take a leap of faith and jump over the balcony, landing awkwardly on the bottom floor into the main room. I try to ignore my now injured left foot as I rush behind the bar to regroup with the others.

“Jesus Christ Cameron!” exclaims Isabelle.

“I know, I know, but we need to get out of here, quick!” I say, gritting my teeth to deal with the pain.

The rioters cause havoc in the house as they knock down walls and destroy her furniture. Lysandra covers her mouth in shock as she watches on.

“This house was built to last decades upon decades,” she laments. “It was supposed to keep me safe until the world went back to normal!”

Khalil places his hand on her shoulder and shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t count on things going back to normal anytime soon,” he asserts. “Not with that second mist?”

One of the rioters throws a molotov cocktail, setting fire to the carpet. The carpet catches fire quickly and creates a partition across the two halves of the house. Declan gestures at his men to fall back as he makes his escape from the building. The fire quickly spreads, horrifically burning many of the people who riot in the middle of the house. It starts to spread towards us.

“Okay, I think it’s time we leave home!”shouts Grace. She shoots out the glass in one of the side windows. The five of us leave the bar and rush towards the window, desperately clambering outside one by one. We quickly sprint across the vast green adjacent to Devon Manor and make our escape. Khalil and Grace shoot down any rioters that come across our path as we dart our way towards a forest of tall trees on a hill about a quarter of a mile away. We finally reach it, panting and gasping as we rest by the trees. Finally we’re safe. Finally we’re free from danger. Lysandra does not look as relieved as the rest of us.

She stares in horror as she watches her house burn down to the ground. Yikes, that’s not something you want to see. Though, it could have been worse. It could have burned down whilst we were in there. Khalil walks over to console her. The two hold each other watching as rioters either flee or succumb to the fire.

A few moments later the five of us stand around our parked car, deeper into the forest. The area we’ve chosen is quite the good spot, lots of trees and bushes to properly conceal us from the outside world, as safe as you can possibly be when you have no house. I watch as Isabelle paces back and forth, incredibly irritated.

“Congratulations Khalil! You did it! You got to play hero once again!” she exclaims sarcastically. “Now we can put ourselves in more danger by letting a pseudo-celebrity which the public hates tag along with us. God, why is she even still here?”

“Isabelle, will you fucking drop it!” demands Khalil. “Her house burned down for Christ sake. She’s staying with us.”

“Are you sure?” asks Lysandra. “Because I don’t want to feel like I’m imposing on-”

“You’re staying with us. End of story.” asserts Khalil.

“Oh, end of story is it?” asks Isabelle. “And people say I’m controlling.”

Khalil sighs. Isabelle awaits his retort but is met with silence.

“Ooh, drama!” mocks Grace, in an attempt to break the tension. It doesn’t work.

Isabelle walks up to confront me. Guess it’s my turn for the hair-dryer treatment.

“Also, who the fuck is Declan?” she questions. “And why did you owe him some goddamn money?”

“I-, uh-, I.” I stutter as she puts me down with an intimidating glare.

“He was in the same gang as Grace and I before the mist.” interjects Khalil.

Isabelle’s glare switches back and forth between Khalil and Grace. “You used to be friends with him?” she asks. “Didn’t seem like it back there.”

“Don’t look at me. Khalil’s brother is the one who accidentally shot his sister.” explains Grace.

Isabelle's mouth gapes open as she looks at Grace. Confused doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“What the hell are you talking about?” asks Isabelle. Grace shrugs, frustrating her further.

“Ciara…” starts Khalil. “My brother Tyrel, accidentally shot his sister Ciara, and Declan…he held a grudge and…some things transpired”.

“What kind of things?”

“Let’s just say…there’s a reason my brother's grave is empty…”

The group is shocked and silent by the revelation, equal parts sympathetic, equal parts not sure how to respond. Khalil pauses for a second. He takes a breath as he stares into the night sky. Jheeze, even just talking about it takes a toll on him.

“Sorry about that, where was I?” he says, coming back to reality.

“It’s fine, forget it.” says Isabelle, taking up a softer tone. A sombre mood moves through the area like another mist itself.

“So why, of all people, did Cameron choose that person to borrow money from him?” she asks.

All eyes are on me, even Lysandra who takes a break from mourning her grand mansions death. No running from it now. Time for an explanation.

“You remember how we lost a good deal of our rations a few weeks ago and almost starved?”

“Yeah, I do.” says Khalil.

“Well it was my fault. I took them with me on a scavenge mission and I lost them. I was planning on getting some money to barter for some more rations.” I explain.

“And I heard about this guy who had saved up cash that hadn’t been destroyed and gave out loans to the people of The Land. I didn’t know it was Declan O’Gallagher until after you guys told me about him, and by then it was too late. I had already borrowed...”

Khalil sighs and rubs his head in stress. Isabelle scoffs at my incompetence. I feel the eyes of group disappointment lasering in on me.

“Whatever, just add them to the list of people coming to kill us, let’s get some sleep.” says Grace, as nonchalant as ever.

She seems to just be taking everything in her stride today. For a second I completely forgot that she found out her uncle just died. Perhaps she’s taking it well, or at least is trying her hardest to make it look like she is.

“Yeah, let's go to sleep.” agrees Isabelle.

We all approach the car, tired of a long day of rioting and house burning. Khalil looks at the car in concern.

“Are you sure we’ll all be able to fit comfortably in the car?” mentions Lysandra.

“Comfort isn’t really a concern right now,” says Khalil.

“It’s alright, I’ll sleep outside.” I offer. “I’ll just get some leaves and cosy myself up by the car.” The others look at me with concern and bewilderment.

“Are you sure?” asks Isabelle.

“Of course,” I insist.

The others accept my offer and fill up the car, in attempts to make sleeping quarters out of some worn down car seats. I sit by the end of the car and look up to the dark sky. They were definitely downplaying how disappointed they were with me. If it weren’t for how tired we all are, I reckon they would have had some other words to say.

I’m the reason why we had a gunfight with Declan and the manor burnt down. Sleeping outside is the least I can do for them.

I can’t keep being a liability.