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    “Um,” Wilbur was the one to break the silence, crossing his arms over his chest, something he’d picked up from Techno. “Tommy’s parents are going to be back soon.”

    “Oh,” Phil replied, but something didn’t feel right. Maybe it was Wilbur’s tone of voice or the way Techno wouldn’t look at him. “How soon?”

    “Not long.” Tommy’s voice was hoarse, strained, watery. There was a tidal wave behind those words, pulling itself back and then pushing forward again. He cleared his throat. “Not long,” he repeated, and Phil’s heart broke. As he looked around the van, those words repeated in his head over and over again.

    The way the van was in disarray. The way the vines had started creeping up into the sides of the window, strangling the vehicle from the outside. A teddy bear with no arm and a race car was flipped upside down, lying among toy-like shards of glass. A pillowcase stained with red. The half-carcass of the rabbit rotting in the corner.

    Not long.

    Mobs have taken over the world, reducing most civilizations to ash. Phil is fourteen years old when he finds a child amongst the rubble.

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    03 Nov 2022