Chapter 2Not On The Survival List

I don't know how long I sat there.

The sun climbed higher, beating down on me, but I felt like I was made of ice. I had to get it together. I had to find a logic to the madness.

I stood up and started walking back home. Halfway there, a thought hit me like a physical blow.

The cameras.

The building had security cameras, and my dad had recently installed a smart-cam in the living room. If something happened last night, the lens saw it.

I moved faster.

Back in the apartment, I went straight for the living room. My dad had set up the camera to "prevent break-ins," he’d said. It was linked to a cloud-storage app on his tablet, which he’d left on the side table.

I opened the app and scrolled back to last night’s footage.

The picture was crisp.

10:00 PM: The four of us were on the couch, watching a holiday movie.

10:30 PM: I said I was tired and headed to bed. My mom told me to make sure I used the heavy blanket. I nodded.

11:00 PM: My dad went to the kitchen for a beer.

11:30 PM: Zoe was curled up on the armchair, scrolling through her phone.

Everything was painfully normal.

I hit the fast-forward button, skipping into the early morning hours.

1:00 AM: The living room lights were still on. My mom was knitting; my dad was reading on his phone.

2:00 AM: Zoe went to her room.

2:30 AM: My dad stood up and walked to the balcony. He pushed the door open and looked out.

Suddenly, his expression shifted. I couldn't see what he was looking at, but his face went pale, his jaw tightening. He hurried back inside and whispered something to my mother.

Her face transformed instantly—fear, sharp and jagged. She dropped her knitting and stood up. Together, they walked toward my bedroom door.

3:03 AM.

They pushed my door open. The camera couldn't see inside my room, only the threshold. They stood there, looking in at me.

For a long time. At least five minutes.

Then, my mother’s lips moved. There was no audio, but I watched her mouth. I played it back. Again. And again.

I’m not a lip-reader, but some things are unmistakable.

She said: "Don't wake him. Just let him stay here."

Then they closed my door. They turned away.

3:15 AM: They woke Zoe. The three of them threw on their coats and grabbed a few essentials.

3:40 AM: They opened the front door and walked out.

The footage continued to run. From 3:40 AM until 9:00 AM.

No one ever came back.

I stared at the screen, my entire body beginning to tremor.

"Just let him stay here."

That’s what she said. She chose to take Zoe, and she chose to leave me.

Why? Why didn't they wake me up? Why leave me to wake up to a dead world? What could have possibly happened that required them to flee at 3:00 AM, yet decide—deliberately—not to bring me along?

I hurled the tablet against the wall. It shattered, the glass biting into my palm. I didn't feel the pain. I only felt the sickening, hollow joke of it all.

This was what it felt like to be discarded by the people who were supposed to love you most.