I find myself alone.

The torn and stained cushion of the setee is my only respite from the cold, rubberized floor. Bare concrete scratches at my bare shoulders, the backs of my arms rubbed raw, as I shake at the thought of what next will force it's way through that door.

Darryl left several cycles ago, promising to return with help. He never was one to keep his promises, even if he did look out for us as a brother should, but this time I knew for sure he meant it. Ever since I awoke, locked in this hab suite, I felt it in my heart that he would protect us. He's too sly for those things outside to have got to him.

   When the men in strange black armour came, he stood between us. Shouted at them until his voice cracked that we hadn't been bitten. I could see his reflection in the smooth visor of the armoured man, he was crying. I don't know if that is why, but the men left us alone, welding us shut in our home.

Not mother and father though, I heard the gunshots coming from their bedroom.

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   I tear my eyes away from the door, once again checking the empty bowl beside me. Peeling one arm away from cradling my shins to reach out and feel for any crumbs I may have missed, I glance towards Victor. He's my brother too, my younger brother, but we were born at the same time. He stopped eating his kibble six cycles ago, and he hasn't moved since either. I had to steal what he kept saved.

My thoughts are interrupted by the clanging of the pipes. They do that when they are angry. Raising my leg, I bring my heel down hard on one of the exposed pipes, finding myself numb to the pain. If I don't, the pipes will stay angry, and something might hear them - 'the right of percussion maintenance' it's called. If the pipe spirits are mad, you need fix them. Ever since the red robed man taught me and Victor how to, I made sure to keep the pipes happy. I think that's why they leak for me now, giving me water when the taps stopped working.

Sliding my hand underneath the cushion, my fingers find the kitchen knife I've hidden, but no matter how firmly I grasp it, I can't stop the shaking.

The scratching at the door is getting louder.