Survival

The wind whispered through the birch trees, carrying with it the promise of an early winter. Mira Winters pulled her jacket tighter around her body, her breath forming small clouds in the crisp Alaskan air. She paused to jot down a few notes in her weatherproof journal, her gloved fingers moving swiftly across the page. “What do you think, girl?” Mira asked, glancing down at her husky, Cora. The dog’s ice-blue eyes met hers, intelligent and alert. “Yeah, I feel it too. Something’s changing.” ...

Amira squinted against the harsh sunlight, her eyes scanning the shimmering horizon. The desert stretched endlessly before her, a sea of golden sand dunes rippling in the scorching heat. She adjusted her hijab, tucking a stray lock of dark hair beneath the fabric as sweat beaded on her brow. “Any sign of them?” Khalid’s gruff voice called from behind her. Amira shook her head, not bothering to turn around. “Nothing yet. But they’ll come. They always do.” ...

The alarm blared through the firehouse, jolting Jess Hawkins from her fitful slumber. She sprang from the narrow bunk, muscle memory kicking in as she donned her gear with practiced efficiency. The acrid smell of smoke already permeated the air as she climbed aboard the rumbling engine. “Residential fire on Oak Street,” Captain Rodriguez barked as they peeled out of the station. “Possible entrapment.” Jess’s stomach clenched. She stared out the window at the pre-dawn streets of Millbrook, willing the engine to move faster. Oak Street wasn’t far, but every second counted when lives were at stake. ...

The rain had been falling for six days straight when the Parker Creek dam gave way. Sarah Connor was in the middle of treating eight-year-old Ellie Matheson’s earache when her phone blared the emergency alert. The sound made both of them jump. Ellie’s mother Jennifer clutched her purse tighter to her chest. “What is it?” Jennifer asked, her voice tight with the worry that seemed to permeate everything in Millhaven these days. ...

Zara’s fingers traced the brittle edges of the leaf, its once-vibrant green now faded to a sickly yellow. She held it gently, afraid it might crumble to dust at the slightest pressure. The specimen was a rare find in this desolate world, a fragile reminder of what had been lost. “What’ve you got there, doc?” Nico’s voice startled her from her reverie. He peered over her shoulder, his breath warm against her neck. ...

The first rumble came just after midnight. Mira Patel jolted awake, her heart racing as the bed trembled beneath her. Earthquake? She fumbled for her phone, squinting at the bright screen. No alerts. A second tremor, stronger this time, sent a framed photo clattering to the floor. Mira leapt up, maternal instinct overriding confusion as she rushed to her son’s room. “Ethan!” She flung open the door to find the 12-year-old already sitting up, eyes wide with fear. ...