It was high noon as Mavis walked slowly through the large botanical garden. It was full of rows of flower beds. She stopped to admire the beautiful flowers in a flower bed by the path, bending down to get a closer look at them. The flowers smelled exquisite. She picked one to take with her.

  As she continued to move on ahead, there was movement in the adjacent path. She stopped and leaned back to see who it was, through an opening in the hedge. Surprised, she saw herself – or rather, a copy, as perfect as a mirror image. Yet this girl was dressed in a vintage white silk gown. She saw Mavis and her face contorted with rage.

  “YOU!” the girl screamed at Mavis.

  Mavis began to run away and the girl chased after her.

  “GET OUT OF HERE! YOU'RE A PARASITE! LEAVE THIS PLACE!”

  She lunged at Mavis and pinned her to the ground. She began to strangle Mavis, who tried to break free but was unable. The flower fell from her grasp as she desperately tried to pry the girl’s hands away from her neck. But she could feel her whole body growing weak. She was about to pass out.

  Mavis awoke suddenly in a half-collapsed barn, breathing heavily. It was just a dream.

  She shifted away the debris – wooden framing and metal roof sheeting – that had fallen on top of her, and she stood to look outside the gaping hole present in the structure. The sky was entirely filled with smoke and had taken on a black-orange hue. It surely must have still been day, but most of the daylight was blocked, giving the perception it was late evening. The sound of explosions could still be heard in the distance, and their tremors were felt in the ground. A layer of ash covered the ground. Flashes of light were seen in the sky. It was an apocalyptic hellscape out there.

  Mavis was concerned. What was going on?

  She flew through the clouded sky. Visibility ahead was very low due to the smoke and dust in the air – she could barely see 10 metres in front of her. On the ground, small fires burned across the destroyed landscape.

  As Mavis continued further along, some distance away now, the landscape began to change. It was less destroyed here, buildings were visible. Mavis heard something ahead - a missile heading towards her location. It got louder, until it was right next to her – seeing it, she instantly vaporised it and it disintegrated in the air.

  Mavis flew down to the streets below. She saw a group of 6 people, desperate survivors, attacking a truck located just outside a loading zone adjacent to a supermarket. A man with a crowbar tried to pry open the back of the truck. Another guy with a metal pipe climbed onto the front of the truck in attempt to get inside, because the doors had clearly been locked. The driver was inside, dead, multiple bullet holes present in the glass windscreen and door. He had been trying to flee the loading zone of the supermarket when he had been ambushed. The guy with the pipe smashed the windscreen. A woman tried to pierce the side of the truck with the sharp edge of a pole, like a spear. Others hit at the other side of the truck in the same manner. Then they stopped and turned to see Mavis hovering in the air above them. She landed on the ground next to them.

  They dropped to their knees, cowering, petrified. Others ran away down the street. Mavis let them go.

  “Please! Don't kill me!” The guy with a crowbar begged. His rugged appearance matched the desperation in his eyes.

  “I beg you, I'll do anything!” said another. All they wanted was to survive.

  “We'll do anything! Please don't kill us! Please!”

  Mavis takes a step towards them and they are silent. She looked at the truck and made a large roughly-circular shaped hole in it as the wall of the truck disintegrated. Mavis poked her head inside, but it was empty. How strange.

  She turned back to look at the two individuals still cowering on the ground. “What were you expecting to find in there?”

  “Food.” The first man replied.

  “Food! That's all, nothing else,” the woman said.

  “Do you have any?” Mavis asked. She was hungry as well.

  “Any w-what?” stuttered the man.

  “Food.” Mavis glared at them.

  “N-no, of course not. Sorry, that's why we're out here searching, looking for some,” he admitted.

  “Where is it? Where is the food?” Mavis pressed.

  “I don't know! We don't have any.” His voice cracked as he was reminded of the hopelessness of their situation. “It used to be in stores. Stores like this one. But then - then - then people took it all. Hoarding it. They're hoarding it underground in bunkers.”

  “Please don't kill us. We'll help you find some if that's what you want,” the woman survivor tried to bring a resolution to this predicament that wouldn’t result in their deaths, but her hope was fading rapidly.

  “Like you would be any help with that...” Mavis stated with contempt.

  “No, please!” a survivor cried out.

  “They're everywhere! We can take you to them.” The desperation of the survivors was growing, and the horrific thought must have crossed into at least one of their minds. She might decide to eat us.

  Mavis left them and walked around to the other side of the truck. The front glass of the supermarket has been completely smashed in. She stepped through and into the store. It was dark - barely illuminated from the dim light outside. She walked through the isles of empty shelves. Everything was gone - completely gone - no food remained. The refrigerator isle was completely smashed and shards of glass lined the floor. Discarded boxes lay near the entrance to the loading zone.

  Upon confirming what the survivors had told her, she returned outside, thinking she might take them up on that offer to help her locate stores of food. But they had all fled, and she didn’t feel like chasing them down. If food stores were everywhere, how hard could it be? She was sure she could manage on her own, and she took to the skies once more.

  A few days passed with Mavis scavenging food wherever she could find it, and sleeping in abandoned houses. The weather got progressively worse, and it became extremely cold. Visibility reduced even further as the world was covered with a thick fog-like haze. She therefore didn’t meet anyone else.

  After some time, on a day like any other, Mavis came to an abandoned house, somewhere in the suburbs. It was remarkable in that it actually seemed half-liveable, and not particularly damaged or dilapidated like some others she had seen on the way here.

  Mavis walked slowly through the house, down a hallway, soon arriving at the living room. She admired the furniture. On the mantlepiece, she saw a photo frame, and walked over to pick it up. There was a thin, fine layer of dust on it. The photo is of a family of four, with two children. She put it back and then continued on to the dining room.

  Plates containing a half-eaten meal remained on the table where they were left when the occupants of this place had fled in a hurry. Mavis picked up a piece of stale bread and took a bite. It didn't taste very good - it must have been sitting there for at least a week. Mavis took a spoonful of the soup. Eyeing it skeptically, she put it in her mouth and swallowed. YUCK! It tasted awful! She bent over, coughing.

  She went over to the sink and tried to pour herself a glass of water to wash the taste out of her mouth, but when she turned on the tap, no water came out of it. Frustrated, she destroyed the faucet. She returned to the table and resolved to eating the bread. It's wasn’t appetising, but still, it was better than nothing. It was edible, unlike the rest of the food which had definitely spoiled. Mavis couldn’t bring herself to eat any more of that.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Rotting fruit lay upon the counter. Mavis opened a cupboard. There were biscuits. She pulled the packet down from the shelf and opened it on the table. Hungrily, she devoured a biscuit. The taste was familiar. Holding the next biscuit in her hand - she examined it intently.

  It reminded her of a time which seemed like an age ago now – back when she had been confined in the lab, before all of this had happened. Francis had let her out of her cell one time, and given her something to eat which was similar to this. She had been amazed with how good it had tasted – it was the best thing she had ever eaten.

  Mavis continued to stare at the biscuit. Yes, it definitely was of the same type she remembered Francis giving her. It tasted the same too.

  I wonder where he is now... I wonder if he's still alive...

  She ate the biscuit. It was nice. A small comfort in her otherwise dreary existence.

  ??????

  Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. But the war had only just begun.

  Soldiers crawled through the depression in the soil behind a hill. A layer of ashen dust covered the ground above. There was gunfire overhead. A soldier stopped and aimed his rifle out over the hill and looking through the sight, he saw a target and fired.

  Suddenly, there was an explosion behind him. The shockwave knocked him over into the trench. He was disoriented but not severely injured. The enemy had missed. The soldiers heard the sound of tanks approach from their side which returned fire - explosions were heard in the distance. Then there was silence. The soldier again looked through his rifle's sight only to see smoke rising from the location of the blast.

  “Come on. Let's go,” his colleague told him.

  “No. Wait for confirmation.”

  Nearby along the trench, a third soldier wailed - hit by a bullet in the shoulder during the exchange of fire. The others went over there to see what they could do. A medic patched up the injured soldier. The wind rustled through the scraggly trees - disturbing dust that blew into the faces of the soldiers. They began to cough, one after the other, feeling a stinging sensation on their face. The first soldier retrieved a small bottle of water from his carry bag and drinks from it, handing it to the second guy, who also took a drink. He handed the water bottle back, then looked down at his hands which were red with small blisters.

  “This place is contaminated, isn't it,” he said in a haunting tone.

  “Don't think about it. Just remember why we're here.”

  The soldier retrieved his wallet from his pocket, and opened it, revealing a picture of his family - his wife and child.

  Back in the underground military bunker cafeteria area, the mother and her child sat at a bench, with a tray of food in front of each. The place is crowded - there was a lot of chatter. People trying to make the best of the situation.

  In the command centre, agents monitored computer screens. The place buzzed with activity. Airstrikes were a frequent occurrence, the vibrations felt throughout the underground bunker. It was the place where Francis Palmer lived with his dad, Agent Gregory Palmer.

  Francis sat hunched over a desk in a small room by the meagre light of a lamp. He had never been one to keep a diary before all of this had happened, but now it seemed more important than ever. He needed to get it all down, not only so there would be a historical record in case he didn’t survive this, but for his own sanity, to get it off his chest. All the people he knew before may now be dead, but to him this was as good as confiding in someone close. And so he continued recording his story in the journal. He was almost done, just a bit more until it was caught up to the present day:

  We fought against the anti-Mavis alliance. Things went well for us at first. We had many allies.

  At the ruins of the Pentagon, it was snowing heavily. A group of people, spread apart, walked through the rubble with flashlights.

  Then winter came.

  A soldier searched the rubble. He pointed his flashlight down into a crevice. His face lit up - he thinks he sees something. “Hey! Over here!”

  Two others who had also been searching came over to join him. Together, they began to chip away at the concrete which crumbled easily. They lifted up a metal bar, to reveal what they had been searching for - the device, a black telephone handset.

  It was taken back to the bunker by helicopter. Francis and his father, Agent Palmer, awaited the arrival of the helicopter, as it touched down outside. Soldiers emerged and carried the device, contained in a plastic bag, inside. They took it out of the bag and cleaned it with wipes to decontaminate it.

  We found the device.

  The telephone was placed on a desk in one of the rooms in the underground facility.

  That's when things started to go downhill.

  The fighting intensified on the battlefield. Tanks faced off against each other. Enemy soldiers began a charge. The commander removed his binoculars. He could see the enemy approaching without them. “Retreat!” screamed the commander, and his soldiers began to run back. There was gunfire. The commander was shot multiple times and fell to the ground.

  General Arnold was devastated, staring at the display in frustration.

  We lost ground. One by one, our allies turned on us.

  Arnold turned away. Behind him, Agent Palmer looked forlorn. Outside the room, Francis walked down the hallway, oblivious to what had happened. As he approached the room where the telephone device was kept he slowed his pace and stopped.

  Perhaps they were envious we had the device. Perhaps they were frustrated at our refusal, or inability, to use it. We knew there was no use in trying. That had already been done.

  Francis looked through the glass at it inside. Indeed, they had tried. But they had never managed to switch it back on. It was inoperative.

  There was only one course of action left.

  Francis entered a meeting room where General Arnold, Agent Palmer and other high-ranking military officials were seated at a large rectangular table. They had summoned him here to discuss something important.

  “Good to see you here, Francis. We were just about to begin without you.” He motioned for Phillip, the presenter, to begin.

  A large map was displayed on the table in the centre of the room.

  “The enemy has broken through the northern defence line - here.” Using a stick, Phillip pointed to the map. “There have also been reports of skirmishes at the secondary perimeter to the east, here and here.” He paused to let the information sink in. “The news is better on our southern and western flank. All quiet. But we don't expect that to last for much longer. Intel suggests that a larger force is being gathered for another attempt. We're being surrounded on all sides.”

  “Thanks for the update, Phillip. I'll take it from here.” Phillip sat down and General Arnold stood, moving to the head of the table. “Now, as you all can appreciate, our priority is of course the northern perimeter. Our men have retreated to about this point, to help the others with completion of the additional fortifications. But we are running out of space, and options.” He looked at Agent Palmer, then returned to his seat. There was tension in the room.

  Agent Palmer stood to address the group. “We need to find Mavis and ask her to help us.”

  There was muttering and unease around the room. “I know. You may be unsure of this.” Agent Palmer continued. “I was too. Why would she help us? But I think I've figured it out. You see - why is it that all the other factions have turned against us? After we got the root telephone... That was it. But why? Do they want it? Yes - precisely, they do. They want it - and now bear with me - because maybe, they think they could use it, to gain favour with Mavis. It was a mistake for us to share the fact we'd retrieved it with them. Think about it. Mavis is alone in this world. She's probably wondering about what makes her so different. Why is she the way that she is? Are there any others like her? That telephone can give her the answers she seeks. And if we're the ones to bring her to it, maybe she won't kill us. Maybe she'll help us defeat our enemies.”

  ??????

  The dimly lit room was not extravagantly furnished, despite the fact that Agent Palmer was considered to be a high ranking officer and one of the main commanders of this facility. He was in his quarters with his son Francis, together they sat at a small table opposite each other, eating.

  “I've put your name down for the mission to find and contact Mavis.” Agent Palmer broke the silence.

  “Me? Why me??”

  “You knew her. Before all of this. You were the only one in that facility to survive. For some reason, she didn't kill you. Despite how she was treated there.”

  “But... whatever happened to keeping me safe, out of the field?”

  Agent Palmer looked at his son sadly and sighed. “You were weak. You used to be. Or at least, that's what I thought of you. But these past few months, you've shown incredible strength. You've shown me I was wrong.” He paused as he struggled to find the words to describe his feelings. “I... I think... there's nothing I can do to shelter you anymore. It's time you made your own contributions to this world. I think you're ready. “

  “But I haven't even left this bunker since getting here. Do you really think it's a good idea to send me? Would the others even agree? “

  “I’ve already spoken to the others. You won't be going alone. Besides, we can't risk sending someone who'll be killed without a second thought. That's why we need you to do this. Please, son, you're our only hope.”

  They continued eating. After a few moments, Francis spoke up again. “And what if the mission is a failure?”

  Agent Palmer paused, pushing the unthinkable - his son's death - out of his mind. “What do you mean?”

  “What if we can't find Mavis?”

  “Well, you know what the alternative is. We make peace with the anti-Mavis alliance, and join them. I suppose that could be a valid option.” Palmer shook his head. Only fools thought that. It wasn’t really a viable option. They had no good alternative options.

  “Do you really think they'd accept us?” Francis was equally as unconvinced.

  “It would take some convincing. But, I think they'll accept anyone at this point.” His father replied half-heartedly.

  “I don't think we should go down that road.” It wasn’t just about self-preservation. It was their ideology. There needed to be an appropriate government in place that would submit to Mavis and kneel before her – otherwise, it wouldn’t truly last for very long. The destruction would only continue.

  “I agree. But still, it's an option we need to consider - if we want to maintain any kind of authority here, that is. Some of the other higher-ups have already been considering it, saying we should invite delegates here from Tennessee for negotiations.”

  In other words, placating those old fools until everyone here was finally all defeated and killed, if not by their enemies, then by Mavis herself.