BIRTHRIGHT - B01:C03 - Survive - DRAFT (Patreon)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have made significant edits to chapters 1 and 2, converting them into first-person narratives, along with a few minor tweaks to the story. You should be able to follow along with chapter 3 without needing to return to those prior two chapters if you do not desire to do so. Thank you for reading!

Zoe

Once inside our home, I made a beeline for Dad’s cushy chair in the living room, letting out a deep sigh of relief as I sank into it. Although we don’t live far from the school—a walk that was easily manageable before Ray got his car—at that moment, every step felt excruciating; my body ached, and I was overwhelmed with tiredness. The day’s oddity was further intensified by reports of an aurora, supposedly caused by a massive solar storm, wrapping around the entire planet—until we lost all access to news. Compounding the day's strangeness were widespread power outages that knocked out all electronics, except for Mr. Jefferson’s car, which continued to rumble obnoxiously in his backyard, possibly contributing to my relentless headache, though I couldn't pinpoint the exact cause.

Despite the confusion and fatigue, I consciously smiled whenever my siblings glanced my way, particularly at Mara, who maintained a brave front. I knew, however, she was worried. I made a conscious choice not to burden them with my own concerns. This resolve was particularly tested after what we might have seen—or thought we saw—in the sky. I clung to the belief that it was nothing more than an optical illusion, perhaps a trick of light from the aurora. It certainly couldn't have been a dragon. Nope, no way.

Our plate already brimming, Raymond is pushing for a trip to Mrs. Ritter’s place—and yeah, when he edges from mildly annoying to outright exasperating, I default to calling him by his full name instead of Ray. His idea of visiting his grandmother's place hits every button on my annoyance meter. To set the record straight, it’s actually a float house in Bayview, not your typical cabin. Despite my lukewarm feelings about Idaho, I’ve got to admit that Lake Pend Oreille has its own unique charm. But Mrs. Ritter, well, she's a piece of work—unpleasant to the core and, strangely enough, a bit racist, well, perhaps more than just a bit, which is ironic considering her late husband was half Black. Go figure.

Anyway, Mara and I are what she often calls the "Asian mutts," a term she carelessly uses to anyone who'll listen. She tends to be slightly more tolerant with Mara than with me. But Raymond? In her eyes, he can do no wrong. What truly irks me, is how utterly wrong it is for her to say such things; she's just cruel. But right now, none of that matters. With Ray’s electric car out of commission, we have no way to get to her cabin.

I dipped my head back into the cushy chair, letting my eyes close as my tiredness finally caught up to me.

Raymond

I paced back and forth in what felt like a ridiculous loop of disbelief. Up there, that was a wyvern, not a dragon. The girls might not know the difference, but hey, who was I to start a lecture in the middle of a blackout that seemed as wide as the planet itself? Ridiculous, right? Yet here we were, considering packing up and heading to Grandma's (well, mostly I was), which suddenly seemed like the only sane spot on Earth.

The entire scenario felt as if it were lifted from a dystopian movie—society crumbling, power grids failing, and here I was, trying to avoid becoming a headline in a survivor's diary. The cabin, secluded and off-grid, promised a slice of peace—or at least a break from the chaos. It's funny how zombie flicks and apocalyptic shows drill one lesson into your head: when the world goes to hell, other people become your biggest threat. With my sisters in tow, the plan was straightforward—escape, before everything turns into madness, the desperation that turns men into monsters.

Navigating this apocalypse has just become exponentially more difficult with three major hurdles appearing. Firstly, Zoe is adamantly against the idea of leaving, and Mara, true to form, will always back Zoe without hesitation. Additionally, we're confronted with the harsh reality of being without a vehicle. The thought of making Zoe, whose health is deteriorating quickly, endure a journey that would challenge even the fittest hiker? It's simply not an option. She had been anxiously awaiting some medical test results before the chaos unfolded, which, realistically, are unlikely to ever come now.

I know I must act! Yet, as I try to piece together a plan B, one question relentlessly plagues me: Where is Dad?

"We should leave a note for Dad and then head to Mrs. Ritter's," Mara finally spoke up, careful not to disturb Zoe, who was dozing off in the living room recliner.

I paused, turning to my youngest sister in surprise. Her readiness to leave caught me off guard. "How are we supposed to get there?" I questioned, more out of frustration than expecting a practical solution.

"Simple! We'll just 'borrow' Mr. Jefferson’s ride," she suggested with a sly smile.

"You want to steal that man’s pride and joy?" I blurted out, then quickly winced, lowering my voice to a whisper to avoid waking Zoe, a mix of shock and admiration for my sister's audacity surfacing. "He devotes all his time to that car. I bet he'd shoot us on sight if he caught us trying to take it," I reasoned.

Mara crossed her arms, one hand thoughtfully tapping her chin. "Then, we wait until tonight. We'll give Dad the whole day to return. If he doesn’t, we leave a note and take the neighbor’s 'baby' for a joyride to Grandma’s," she concluded, nodding in agreement with her plan.

"And how are we supposed to even start his car? I’m not about to sneak into his house to steal the car keys," I said, crossing my arms as I considered the dilemma.

Mara rolled her eyes at me, a gesture that felt particularly demeaning coming from a twelve-year-old. "Oh, I’ve seen that old thing in the back. I bet you could start it with a screwdriver."

I found myself nodding, not so much in agreement with my sister's seemingly insane suggestion, but more as a way to process the sheer audacity of it. Crazy as it might sound, she did have a point. It was only fair to give Dad a shot, a full day to make it back here. If he didn't, well, I had to prioritize my sisters. We'd leave a note behind, a breadcrumb trail in case he returned, telling him where we'd be.

In the meantime, I would take on the role of a scavenger, meticulously gathering every bit of supplies we had stashed away. Thankfully, Dad had developed a habit after the pandemic of stocking the house with preserved food and toilet paper. Under the cloak of darkness, I'd stealthily transport everything to Mr. Jefferson's car. It was a risky move, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The strategy was to cram that vehicle to the brim, so when we finally ignited it, the thunderous roar of the engine wouldn't leave us exposed. It was a gamble, undoubtedly, but it represented our best chance of escaping this predicament unscathed.

The notion of hunkering down and hoping for the best did cross my mind, but it felt like wishful thinking. The solar storm might come and go, but what was unfolding in the sky was proof enough that this wasn't a passing phenomenon. I approached the window, my gaze fixed on the turbulent heavens, where a colossal creature was soaring—an undeniable sign that the chaos wouldn't simply dissipate with the aurora.

As I tore my eyes from the sky and shifted my focus to the street below, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There, amidst the familiar neighborhood, was something utterly unfamiliar. It resembled a creature from Japanese folklore, its mane resembling that of a lion, yet with a reptilian twist. Antlers adorned its head, and its body was painted in vibrant, almost surreal hues. The sheer size of it, comparable to a Clydesdale, defied explanation. The only word that came to mind was "Qilin," a mythical creature that seemed out of place in our reality.

The beast’s head swiveled around, taking in its surroundings, and then it locked eyes with someone in their front yard, a silent exchange between the extraordinary and the ordinary. This was just the beginning of what I could only describe as an apocalypse. People were still moving about, many forced to walk home due to the failure of their vehicles.

What unfolded next sent a chilling shiver down my spine. The monstrous entity charged forward, emitting a sound that was a grotesque fusion of a roar and an eerie elk call. The man in the front yard, terror in his eyes, stumbled over his own feet as he attempted to flee. But fate had already sealed his doom. The creature reached him with terrifying swiftness, and there was no escape. I averted my gaze, unable to witness the gruesome spectacle that unfolded.

My heart raced, and a cold dread settled in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't bear to look any longer. It was then that I realized Mara was right beside me, her eyes fixed on the horrifying scene outside. Without hesitation, I grabbed her arm and pulled her below the window's line of sight, shielding her from the gruesome reality unfolding just beyond our view.

We huddled there in tense silence, minutes stretching into eternity. It became clear that our world had transformed into a nightmare, and we were now trapped in its dark clutches. After what felt like an agonizingly long time, a decision took root in my mind. It was time to raid Dad's gun safe.

Korban

Emerging cautiously from the shelter of the desk where I had sought refuge, time seemed to blur into an indistinct haze. Each attempt to venture out brought the unsettling sensation of vibrations and the resounding thuds of the monstrous creature's footsteps. I couldn't be certain if it had gotten to Nemo or not, but dwelling on that uncertainty had to take a backseat to immediate priorities.

My foremost goal was to reach the armory, to salvage whatever resources I could find. Survival depended on it. But above all else, my heart clenched with the desperate need to ensure the safety of my children. They were my anchor in this nightmare, the reason to push forward despite the relentless horrors that now roamed the world outside.

Summoning every ounce of courage, I cautiously poked my head out of the office where I had hidden. The hallway lay before me, shrouded in an eerie silence, devoid of any immediate threat. Or so it seemed.

Thankfully, it was nowhere in sight. I could only describe it as a troll due to its grotesque appearance. The creature's thick, gnarled skin had appeared impervious to the small-caliber pistol I held, though that didn’t matter seeing as I had been out of ammo. The walls bore witness to previous confrontations, marked by bullet holes and splatters of blood—a testament to its thick hide.

With a deep breath, I steeled myself and ventured into the hallway. As I turned the corner, a nightmarish tableau unfolded before me. Swinging from the ceiling by their feet were lifeless bodies, their presence swaying in the still air. It was a gruesome scene, a grim reminder of the fate that had befallen my fellow officers. Their clothes had been brutally torn from them, their flesh filleted, leaving nothing but rare exposed muscle and fat, they were lifeless forms. The floor beneath them was painted with a gruesome tapestry of blood.

Men and women, comrades and friends, all of them had met their end in this nightmarish tableau, left to hang like grotesque butchered pieces of meat. I had witnessed my fair share of nightmarish scenes in my years as a detective, but this surpassed them all. Suppressing the urge to retch, I moved forward, determined not to touch a single one of the lifeless forms as I navigated through the grotesque maze of death, avoiding the unbearable task of counting them.

Stepping past the swaying bodies, I noticed an MP5 submachine gun lying on the floor. Glancing to the side, I saw a torn-off SWAT body armor with additional rounds clipped to the vest. This discovery was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, the troll had endured gunfire from SWAT without a scratch. I was definitely taking the gun and any available ammo, but it was clear that it wouldn't be sufficient to even slow the creature down. I couldn't help but curse my luck.

To my surprise, the body armor had managed to weather the gruesome scene relatively unscathed, despite the stains of blood that marred its black fabric. With little time to dwell on the grim reminder of what had transpired here, I proceeded to don the armor, my movements deliberate and methodical.

Amidst the array of firearms and ammunition, I carefully selected what I could carry. This included one magazine for my Glock and two additional ones for the MP5, in addition to the three already attached to the vest. With one magazine already loaded into the submachine gun, I now possessed six magazines. In these dire circumstances, every round had become invaluable. This wasn't a video game; it was a harsh reality, and conserving ammunition had become my top priority.

In the event of an encounter with the troll, my strategy was clear: maximize the impact of each shot by targeting its eyes. It was a grim plan, but given the nightmarish situation, it was the only viable option I could think of.

My goal remained the armory, where I intended to fill a duffle bag with essential supplies. However, just as I prepared to resume my journey, an unexpected and chilling interruption occurred.

Something seized my ankle, and I cursed as I stumbled backward, landing in a pool of blood. Horror washed over me as I realized that one of the lifeless, nude, and skinned bodies that hung from the ceiling was not entirely lifeless. Instantly recognizing her, my heart sank. It was our precinct's dispatch, someone I had dated for a couple of months nearly two years ago. We had called things off on friendly terms because she didn't want kids, and I had three. Despite all that, I had liked her. Now, she was clinging to a painful semblance of existence.

"Susan," I gasped.

"H-Help," she stammered, her voice raspy, as if it had been screamed raw from unimaginable pain. But as I gazed at her in horror, I knew that there was no help to be offered in this horrifying situation—only mercy.

A deafening roar echoed from the other end of the hallway I had just traversed, diverting my attention from Susan to the monstrous, grayish-green-skinned creature, covered in bumps akin to a toad's texture. The troll's putrid breath reached me even from that distance. I clenched my Glock, but instead of aiming it at the creature, I met Susan's eyes with a sad glance and made the painful decision. With a heavy heart, I pulled the trigger.

I couldn't afford a moment of sorrow. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I climbed to my feet and started running as fast and as hard as I could. Thunderous footsteps echoed behind me, and I pushed myself to weave through the bodies in my path, some of which twitched, challenging my assumption of their lifelessness. The realization intensified my horror at the prospect of being caught.

Part of me wanted to blindly fire my gun behind me at the charging creature, but I knew it would be futile. I had to make every bullet count. My only chance was to shoot the creature in the eye, but I couldn't afford to stop and turn around to aim. That's how I’d get caught, and after witnessing the horrors that awaited me if captured, I couldn't allow that to happen. If anything, I would keep a bullet in reserve for myself.

As I sprinted desperately through the grim and blood-soaked corridors, I clutched my pistol in my left hand and the submachine gun in my right. The idea of dropping either of my weapons was unthinkable, even if it meant that my aim would be compromised. So, I continued my frantic run, fully aware that my very survival depended on every fleeting second.

However, the terrifying pursuit of the creature behind me continued unabated. Its colossal footfalls echoed relentlessly, drawing ever closer with each passing moment. Each step served as a haunting reminder of the impending doom that pursued me.

I had to acknowledge that I wasn't the young, agile officer I once was. Now in my late forties, every stride felt like a struggle, and the body armor I had donned weighed me down more than it provided protection. Just as I gasped for breath, the inevitable occurred—a colossal grip seized my hips, wrenching me backward and lifting me into the air. My pistol slipped from my grip as it did.

The troll that had hunted me was a towering eight feet tall, its physique reminiscent of a gorilla, with long, sinewy arms and massive, gripping hands. Its grotesque mouth revealed tusks that protruded menacingly from its jaw.

In that moment of grim resignation, my grip tightened on my remaining firearm. This was the conclusion I had been racing toward, and I was determined to meet it head-on.

Without a moment's hesitation to contemplate the troll's reaction, I raised the MP5 to the monster's eye in a swift and determined motion. I pulled the trigger, unleashing a torrent of bullets on full auto, heedless of any concerns about conserving ammunition. At a blistering firing rate of eight hundred rounds per minute, I emptied the entire thirty-round magazine capacity in a heartbeat, directing the deadly hail of bullets into the creature's eye socket.

The effect was immediate and devastating. Unlike the goblin, this monstrous adversary could not withstand the relentless onslaught. It crumpled under the withering barrage of gunfire into its eye, its colossal form collapsing and sending me tumbling in the process.

Taking a deep breath, I winced, pondering whether the recent encounter had resulted in broken ribs or not. My gaze remained fixated on the fallen troll, with a particular focus on its chest, searching for any signs of life. To my immense relief, there was no discernible movement, and the creature appeared to be lifeless. I released a sigh of relief as I carefully climbed to my feet, wincing at the pain.

With renewed determination, I began limping toward the armory, albeit cautiously. However, my progress was abruptly interrupted by the shattering of glass behind me. A massive maw extended into the building, snapping hungrily at the troll's lifeless carcass. To my astonishment and dread, it was the same dinosaur-like creature that had pursued my car into the parking lot, and it was now feasting on the remains of the troll. Evidently, the sound of gunfire had drawn its attention.

Without wasting a moment, I turned away from the grisly spectacle and started moving away, half-running and half-limping, as the creature indulged in its meal behind me. Escape remained my sole priority.

Thankfully, after the nightmarish encounters I had faced, it appeared that nothing else lurked in the shadows, poised to pounce and devour me. My journey to the armory had been relatively uneventful, yet my disappointment knew no bounds when I arrived there, only to find that someone else had already ransacked the place. Defeated, I slumped onto a nearby bench, my breaths still coming in ragged, heavy gasps.

Frustration welled up inside me, threatening to spill over. I tilted my head back against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut as a torrent of rage and sorrow coursed through me. It was only now, as the adrenaline wore off, that I began to truly process all that I had witnessed. A long, contemplative moment passed, and while the urgency of reaching my children still weighed heavily on my mind, exhaustion gradually crept over me, wrapping its insidious tendrils around my weary body. Unbeknownst to me, I drifted into slumber, surrendering to the oblivion of sleep as the events of the day took their toll.

Zoe

"Wake up," Ray's voice jolted me, and I reluctantly cracked a single eye open. As I stirred, Ray suddenly leaped back, his expression a mix of shock and confusion.

"What?" I groaned, my voice laced with weariness.

"For a second, I thought... I could have sworn your eye flashed in a white light," Ray muttered, his words tinged with uncertainty.

I shrugged off his apparent confusion, my other eye still half-closed. "It was probably just the light reflecting off of it," I mumbled as I stretched, trying to shake off the remnants of my nap.

"Yay, sure," Ray shook his head in confusion. "Anyway, you've slept the entire day. Come on, we're leaving," he uttered in a conspiratorial tone.

"What? Where?" I blinked in confusion. As I slowly returned to wakefulness, I began processing everything around me, noticing that it was now night outside. But then, something else caught my attention. I sat straight up, panic gripping me. "Where's Mara?" I demanded.

Ray's expression turned pale as he stared at me intently. "Holy shit, your eyes just did it again. I mean, for a fraction of a second, but I swear, your eyes just flashed white," he uttered, sounding both horrified and curious at the same time.

I dismissed his observation with a sigh. "It's just the lights playing tricks on your eyes," I reassured him before pressing on, "Seriously, where's Mara?"

"What light?" he muttered as I noticed it was rather dark outside, and there was no power. He took a deep breath before continuing. "Relax, she's out in the car waiting for us," Ray attempted to reassure me.

I slumped back into the cushy chair, feeling a bit at ease. But then, I raised an eyebrow. "What car?"

"Don't mind that," he waved his hand dismissively. "Now, let's go before Mr. Jefferson finds Mara hiding in his car."

"What?!" I exclaimed in shock.

"Ssh! There's some kind of lizard lion wandering the neighborhood, so we need to keep it down," Ray urged with a calm and soothing tone, though it had the opposite effect on my frayed nerves. "We've already loaded everything up, and Mara grabbed your stuff. Now, come on, we've got to go."

Not knowing what to say, I reluctantly rose from the comfortable seat, my body aching with each movement. In silence, I trailed behind my brother, still attempting to grasp the bewildering situation unfolding around us. His mention of a "lizard lion" left me baffled, but I pushed the thought aside for the time being. Apparently, he was leading me to Mara, who, to my surprise, was inside Mr. Jefferson's car...?

As we stealthily made our way outside and circumvented the fence into the neighbor's backyard where Mr. Jefferson's beloved car was parked, a sense of impending danger gripped me. I couldn't help but repeat in my mind like a mantra, "We're going to get shot. We're going to get shot." Alongside that thought, another one simmered just beneath the surface: "I'm going to kill Ray. I'm going to kill Ray."

I paused for a brief second as I laid my eyes on the car that had woken me up so many weekend mornings with its roaring engine. It was an old muscle car with a ridiculously large spoiler at the backend. Ray caught my stare and muttered, almost giddily, “it’s a Daytona, you know how much one of those is worth?”

Before I could even answer, or express my indifference, he continued to the car, which was nearly overflowing with boxes, bags, and suitcases inside it. I wanted to ask if they were the ones that filled it up or not, but Ray quickly shoved me into the passenger seat. However, as he did, I noticed something unusual—there was no passenger seat or back seats that I could tell. It seemed like the interior had been stripped out, and Mr. Jefferson was still working on it.

Seated on top of a suitcase, Mara beamed with a wide smile and waved at me.

“Why are we stealing a car? And where are we going?” I hissed, not wanting to raise my voice.

“We’re off to grandma’s house,” Ray beamed with a wide smile.

I wanted to groan and return to the cushy chair, but before I could protest, my brother pulled out a screwdriver, which only confused me. “What are you doing?” I hissed.

“I’m going to hotwire this bitch,” he smiled.

Rolling my eyes, I pointed to the set of keys laying on the dashboard.