Tariq dug his hand into the concrete, forcing himself to skid to a stop. He ripped his fingers free and stared at the neighborhood he’d called home his entire life.

  Chunks were missing from the houses lining the street, smoke curling out of shattered windows as fires burned from the inside. Parked cars sat crippled, doors torn away, hoods peeled back. The road itself was a wreck—gaping holes pocked the asphalt as if bombs had gone off one after another.

  Then his eyes landed on his house.

  It was untouched.

  A stark contrast to the burning homes on either side of it.

  Carefully, Tariq picked his way down the street, stepping around chunks of masonry and twisted metal until he reached the front door. He reached for the handle, then froze.

  Someone was moving inside.

  Footsteps. Dishes clanking. Liquid pouring into a bowl.

  Cereal?

  Tariq exhaled slowly. There was no wheezing. No wet snapping of bones like the others. But still—no heartbeat.

  He wrapped his fingers around the handle and twisted it carefully, pushing the door open just a crack.

  It was unlocked.

  The door swung wider than he intended and slammed against the wall.

  “Oh! He’s here!” a woman called. Her voice was warm, familiar, thick with a Dominican accent. “Come in—we’re in the kitchen!”

  Tariq frowned.

  That was Zora’s mom.

  What were they doing here?

  And where were his parents?

  “Tariq?” Zora’s voice came from behind him. “Jesus, do you know how fast you were running!? And the street—it—”

  “Is that Zora?” her mother interrupted cheerfully. “Come sit down!”

  Zora’s eyes lit up. Tears welled instantly.

  “Oh thank God,” she whispered, smiling as she darted past him.

  Tariq reached out and grabbed her by the collar.

  “Let me go!” she shouted.

  He pulled her back—but the radiation rolling off his body ate straight through the fabric in his grip, freeing her.

  Tariq watched helplessly as she ran down the hallway toward the dining room.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  After a moment, he followed.

  The dining room looked perfect.

  Zora sat at the table with her parents like nothing had ever happened. Elena looked exactly the same as always—black curly hair, just a little darker and older now, the same big brown eyes and unmistakable attitude. She’d immigrated from the Dominican Republic and made sure everyone knew it.

  David sat beside her, tall and lanky, thinning brown hair and hazel eyes. The freckles dotted across his nose were a carbon copy of Zora’s.

  He ate cereal as if it were a normal morning.

  They talked and laughed. Zora told them everything she and Tariq had been through. In return, they told her what had happened on their side.

  Tariq watched, waiting to feel something.

  These were Zora’s parents. He’d known them his whole life. They were practically family.

  But instead of relief or grief, all he felt was an itch.

  A deep, crawling need to get rid of them.

  They weren’t alive.

  These weren’t the people Zora loved anymore.

  “Get up, Zora,” Tariq said.

  All three of them turned to stare at him.

  “No need to feel left out, Tariq,” David said pleasantly, motioning to an empty chair. “Come on, take a seat.”

  “Yeah, Tariq,” Zora added. “No need to feel left out. I’m sure we’ll find your par—”

  “My parents are gone,” Tariq cut in. “And so are yours. Get up.”

  The itch intensified.

  Zora’s expression hardened. Her brows furrowed as she looked between Tariq and her parents.

  “No,” she said. “These are my parents. They’re right here. They’re not disfigured like the others we saw!”

  Tariq clenched his fists.

  He’d had enough.

  He lunged forward and grabbed David by the head.

  “TARIQ, STOP!” Zora screamed.

  Something hot tore through Tariq’s shoulder.

  He grunted—but his hand tightened.

  David’s head popped in his grip.

  Blood sprayed across the room. Fragments of bone and brain splattered the table.

  Zora screamed, leaping to her feet, her body blazing with light as she stared at Tariq in pure rage.

  “So he knew the entire time,” Elena said with a tired sigh.

  Zora launched herself at Tariq, slamming into him and blasting them both through the wall and out into the yard. They rolled through debris before coming to a stop with Zora standing over him.

  “Why!?” she screamed, firing a beam of light straight into his chest.

  “They… aren’t… alive…” Tariq choked as the hole burned through him—then began to heal.

  Another beam struck his shoulder.

  And another.

  He felt it happening. With every attack, the care he had for her dulled, slipping away like sand through his fingers. He fought it, clung to it, refusing to hurt her back.

  She only stopped when Elena’s voice rang out.

  “How did you know?” she called. “David, ask him. He’ll answer you.”

  The house groaned.

  Then it shifted.

  Walls cracked and peeled apart, collapsing into vines and roots as the entire structure twisted into a massive tangle of plants. At the top of a dead, twisted tree sat Elena, calm and composed.

  Beside her stood David.

  Whole.

  Zora’s hands dropped to her sides. She took a few unsteady steps forward.

  “No… you guys are okay, right?” she stammered. “You… you aren’t—”

  “We did die,” Elena said gently.

  Zora collapsed to her knees, breathing fast and shallow.

  “Then Sia brought us back,” Elena continued, smiling. “Zora, you really should join us.”

  Tariq stepped in front of her, eyes wide.

  My mom did this to them…

  David’s skin hardened, turning white like polished marble streaked with veins of gold.

  “Well, it wasn’t really a suggestion,” he chuckled. “Get out of the way, Tariq. We’ve been instructed not to kill you—but that doesn’t mean we won’t hurt you.”

  He dropped from the tree, the ground cracking beneath his weight.

  “Where’s my dad?” Tariq asked.

  David shrugged. “Good question. Don’t get in our way, and we’ll tell you. Deal?”

  Tariq tilted his head.

  That was David, all right.

  He slid into a staggered stance. Behind him, Zora was spiraling, hyperventilating—she wouldn’t be any help for a while.

  “Really, Tariq?” David said, annoyed. “Fine. Have it your way.”

  Elena laughed softly and sat back on the branch to watch.

  Tariq took a breath.

  This was going to be a long fight.

  David charged.

  Just as Tariq moved to intercept him, an explosion slammed into David's side, throwing him backward and sending him tumbling across the yard.

  As the smoke cleared, David laughed.

  “Even from way over there, you’re a pest, MARCUS!” he shouted.