Kill Everything That Moves – Part 3

I needed to think and go back in my mind.

Oca 2, 2025

The Names in the Dust
I turned to the woman, my voice cracking through the silence. “I know it’s not the time or place… but what’s your name?”
“Avva,” she whispered, clutching her daughter. “This is Eva. And you?”
“Oen.”
A heavy pause. The ruined building groaned around us.
“What do you think is happening?” Avva asked, tears cutting through the grime on her face.
I closed my eyes, forcing my fractured memory to surface:
— A street. A normal day. Then, the sky screamed. A shockwave—not from the horizon, but above, like a god had struck the earth. After that… darkness. I woke to this.
I described the leech-like rain, the way it melted flesh but infested animals—the dog I’d seen convulse, its fur sloughing off as something new puppeted its body.
Avva shuddered. “Leeches? From the sky?”*
“We can’t stay here,” I said. Outside, the downpour had stopped. The air was thick with alkaline dust, visibility barely ten meters. “Stay close. If you see anything moving—even a rat—scream.”
We crept into the wasteland.
Then, a cry:
“Help! Please!”
The voice led us to an elderly woman buried under rubble—Olive, she gasped. Her leg was bent wrong, bone glistening. “What’s happening?” she begged.
“We don’t know,” I admitted, but Avva lied smoothly: “Help’s coming.”
Now we were four in the apocalypse.
Then—rotors.
A helicopter tore through the dust cloud, its searchlight a celestial beam. My heart lurched. “They found us!” I screamed.
We ran.
Toward the light.
Toward the silhouettes in hazmat suits lowering ladders.
Toward salvation.
Or so we thought.

Okumaya Devam Et