“In your professional opinion, do you think we will find a cure for these sick people? The greyskins?”

“I fear that the greyskins are already dead,” the professor said. “But I think that one day soon we will be able to find a way to eradicate the problem. But for now, people need to gather supplies and rely on each other to stay alive. The most important thing is that you have a safe place to stay.”

I didn’t care about some scientist who was near the start of it all. The news people were just looking for some answers, someone to blame maybe. I knew there was no one to blame. Looking for answers felt meaningless. Hearing this Professor Abrams, or Adams…whichever he was…did nothing more than add to the endless questions people might have had.

I got up and walked into the kitchen to get some water. When I filled the glass and brought it to my mouth, I could see that my hands were shaking. I didn’t feel fear. I didn’t even feel loss - that would come later. I guess in that moment all I felt was shock. It was as if I didn’t believe any of it was actually happening. I couldn’t believe that I heard my father die over the phone. I couldn’t believe that I saw my own mother’s blood seeping through the crack of the door. I couldn’t believe that I had been chased by the…what did that scientist call them? Greyskins?

It was a name that fit. I had been calling them grey people, but greyskins seemed right. They were less than people. They were sick animals. To call those monsters people gave them too much credit.

“Are you all right?”

Lucas’ voice startled me and I turned quickly, spilling water on the floor at the same time. “Yeah,” I said, grabbing a rag from the counter to wipe up the mess. “I just…I don’t know.”

“The greyskins,” Lucas said, staring past me as though he were deep in thought. “I suppose the news stations like the name. That’s what they’re calling them now.”

“Have you seen them?” I asked Lucas.

He shook his head. “No. I don’t really want to though.” He pulled a chair out at the table. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“I don’t think I’m very hungry,” I said as I sat.

“Dad seems to believe that this thing will last longer than people think,” he said, pulling down a jar of peanut butter from a cabinet.

“Why does he think that?” I asked.