She sat in the corner of the subway floor and never spoke a word.

  When what people started calling the Cataclysm happened, a few of us managed to make it down here. Before, I was just a student. Trying to take the train home. By the time we arrived, a small group of survivors had already formed. At first, they were kind enough to let us stay. After a few days, that kindness stopped extending to newcomers. It was the start of what I knew would be the worst part of a situation like this.

  Nothing is more dangerous than a group of scared people.

  I knew my departure was only a matter of time, I just had to wait for the right moment. In reality, I hesitated for the same reason we all do.

  There was a girl here. A woman.

  Every day she sat alone, said nothing, ate nothing, and never moved. She made no sound. Everyone ignored her.

  Those of us brave enough to get close noticed small details: a school bag with the name Sirena written on it, a single bottle of water, a watch.

  Driven by curiosity—and a desperate need to fight the slow, creeping madness settling into everyone’s mind—I chose to sit beside her.

  She didn’t stop me.

  From that corner, you could see nearly the entire subway. At first glance it seemed like the safest place to be. After sitting there in silence, I realized it was the most unsettling.

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  “How do you do this every day?” I asked.

  No response.

  “Sorry. I’m sure you have a story too,” I added before standing and leaving.

  Later, when the daily rations were handed out—scraps scavenged from trains and whatever people could find—Sirena again did nothing. She didn’t move.

  She must get hungry, I thought.

  I returned and offered her half my food. A Snickers bar and a pack of peanut butter crackers. I was lucky that day.

  I held out the candy. Silence. Not even a glance.

  This time, I stayed and talked anyway.

  “I wonder what it’s like up top,” I said. “We can’t stay down here forever. Supplies won’t last.”

  Still nothing.

  “I think I’m going to leave soon,” I continued. “Try to get home. If it’s still there.”

  After a while, I left and returned to the small space I’d claimed as my own. Even without a response, talking to someone—anyone—calmed me enough to sleep.

  I shouldn’t have slept.

  When I woke, the air felt wrong. People wore unfamiliar expressions. The silence was heavy.

  The smell came first—metal and acid. Around the corner lay the body of the person who had been distributing rations. Headless.

  I never learned their name. I was just grateful someone had tried to keep order.

  Now it was time to leave.

  I packed what little I’d hidden away over the last few days and returned to her one last time.

  “I’m leaving,” I said. “Come with me.”

  Silence.

  When I turned around, everyone was watching.

  “Leave the bag,” one of them said.

  “It’s all I have,” I replied.

  “Wrong answer.”

  They rushed me.

  A fist hit my face. I hit the floor. Kicks followed. Hands grabbed. I closed my eyes and waited for it to end.

  Then I heard it.

  “Exterminate.”

  So faint I thought I imagined it.

  Then there was nothing.

  When I opened my eyes, everyone was gone. No bodies. No scraps. Nothing.

  She was standing.

  For the first time, Sirena faced me directly, staring into my eyes.

  “Heal,” she whispered.

  The pain vanished.

  She began to walk. I followed.

  I didn’t know what waited outside, only that the world was stripping us of our humanity piece by piece.

  If there was a chance I’d survive, it would be beside her.