Willis Tower, 233 South Wacker Dr, 1.26 AM

After half a minute of intense gunfire, the deafening noises ceased to go on. Everyone else other than me stopped cupping my ears, as I wasn't even doing so in the first place. The noise from the operation of the automatic rifle earlier on had probably gotten me used to the loudness of the firing of bullets.

"It's alright, everyone," a lady calmed everyone down, speaking loudly such that everyone in the area could hear her. "We just got our guys outside to help get rid of those pesky aliens." The lady then spotted us standing against the wall near the entrance, as the volunteers who had welcomed us dispersed from the area. "Hello, I'm Cassandra Jubilee. I run this camp along with my husband, Raymond Jubilee," she introduced herself to us all as she gave each of us a handshake, one by one.

"So, you two run this massive camp all by yourselves?" Jennifer enquired, seemingly amused by the capability of the two camp directors.

"Well, not without the help of our many volunteers," Cassandra revealed. "We actually ran an organisation we called the Empathetic Refugees of Illinois, providing shelter those who lose their homes due to disasters or are simply homeless. However, after the attack, we went for a complete conversion of the organisation into a central camp here."

While she rambled on to the rest of the group, I looked around, distracted by the vastness of the camp. I had never been underground in the beastly skyscraper before. It came as quite a surprise to see how much empty space there was down there. As I observed my surroundings, I noticed that there were easily hundreds of refugees all over.

Pondering about the insane number of people there was down there already surprised me. It was an even greater mystery to figure out how many volunteers they required to handle all of the people. As I turned back around, the conversation between Cassandra and the others faded back in. "Do you all have any questions?" she asked, looking at all of us.

"No, I don't think so," Veronica answered on behalf of us.

"Great, follow me to the counter here for registration," Cassandra instructed as she led us to queue up to register our spots in the camp. She gestured towards two long lines of refugees queueing in front of one registration counter each. It was more than obvious that we were going to be staying there for a while.

At that point of time, all I wanted to do was to get some rest. Even though we managed to shut our eyes for a couple of hours earlier on, the terrifyingly violent events that followed after had wiped any effects of sleep away. I didn't want to think about how we couldn't save the panicking stranger who just wanted to seek shelter in Jennifer's apartment. I didn't want to recall how our guest fell through the deteriorating fire escape and fatally wounded herself.

And I definitely didn't want to remember how Enrique had to go so suddenly.

"Is there anything else we're going to have to do after our registration? Or can we just get some rest right away?" I clarified with Cassandra.

"Oh, you'll just have to collect some food for tomorrow's meals. We don't want long queues again. The food counters are just beside the registration ones," she answered. "Once you're done, you're good to go. You can go to bed, get some exercise, call your family, say your prayers, meditate, or simply have good vibes—whatever helps you to stay calm."

"Ms. Jubilee! We've got a large group coming in!" a staff member shouted over, catching Cassandra's attention as other volunteers pulled the entrance doors open to welcome to apparently approaching refugees.

Cassandra sighed tiredly, turning back to us. "I'm so sorry, I've got some other people to attend to. I'll be back later if you need any help. Anastasia, the assistant at the registration counter can help you around if I'm not available," she informed us. With that, she took off, serving the group of refugees who had just entered the camp.

After she left, I stuck my head out the side of the queue, eyeing the length of it. We still had a long way to go, even though the registration seemed to be rather efficient. And, just as Cassandra had told us, we still had to queue to get food for the next day. I turned back to the rest of the group, making a tired statement.

"Looks like we're going to be here for a while."

* * *

June 3, 9.03 AM

I awoke lethargically, returning back to reality after yet another nightmare session. It was the same dream of my mother morphing into another being. However, this was only the third time where my dream was extended with a vision of her turning into one of those ant-like aliens at the end of it. As I sat up, I wiped the sweat away form my forehead, taking in a deep breath as I calmed myself as usual.

I stood up, getting out of my sleeping bag and heading over to the restroom to wash my hands. In the process, I was planning to contact Valour as well. It had been two days since I last checked in with them. They hadn't called me and initiated an update with me, as they had briefed me on the dangers of calling me at the wrong timing. There were many situations in which someone calling me could put me in danger. They were rather specific, from having my phone ring while I was hiding to people finding out that I knew a potential rescue organisation once they see Valour's contact name when the phone rings.

Meanwhile, I didn't want to call them in the open with so many other refugees around, because I didn't want them to know that I had ties with another "rescue" organisation. They would literally kill to get their hands on a guaranteed route out of the city. Thus, I decided that it would be best to keep all of my connections in secrecy at the moment, going only as far as telling Jennifer, Veronica and Tara.

As I approached the restroom, however, I noticed a foul smell coming from around the area. When I got closer, I realised that the strange stench was coming from within the restroom. The male one, to be exact. It wasn't as if someone just had some nasty explosive diarrhoea, or puked out some parasite-infested meal from the day before.

The scent was rancid and sour, almost as if it was coming from the rotting flesh of zombies. I squeezed my nose as I got close to the lavatory. Of course, I wasn't going to use it anymore. I would probably head to another one afterwards. But not before I checked it out. I just had to know what was going on inside that produced the heavy odour.

Just as I laid my hand on the door, a staff member grabbed onto my wrist. I retracted my hand from the door as she let go, turning to face her. She chuckled lightly, sustaining her subtle grin afterwards. "I'm sorry, but you can't use this restroom," she apologised as she stopped me.

"Sorry," I muttered as I rested my hand beside my waist. "Why's this restroom bein' blocked off though? And what's that awful smell?" I added on as I continued to squeeze my nose tightly.

"Well, we've had a case of food poisoning going around yesterday," she explained as she secured her hand on the restroom door rather defensively. "Some guy apparently went round sharing leftovers with people who didn't want the canned food we provided. Even some of the janitors consumed the food and... well, the restroom is in this condition now."

I grimaced disgustedly, already picturing what could be in the lavatory at the moment without the need for the staff member to even elaborate. Just then, I noticed a piece of paper stuck onto the door, reading: Restroom Closed. "My bad, didn't notice that sign there," I said as I realised that I was in the wrong.

"No worries," the staff member chortled. "Let me just show you where the other restrooms are."

"Oh, no, I'm good. I know how to get there," I kindly declined her offer to guide me, I had already known the locations of the other lavatories, not to mention that I didn't want anyone knowing that I was planning to contact Valour.

Therefore, she left, heading off somewhere else. I heaved a relieved sigh, as I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and started moving towards the lavatory at the other side of the camp. I moved briskly, hoping to get across the camp compound discreetly before the masses of people would flood into the cafeteria to begin eating.

In about a quarter of a minute, I reached the other restroom. I made sure to check that there wasn't any sign telling me not to enter, paranoid of being caught going into the wrong place again. As soon as I clarified that there was no such notice, I pushed the door open, entering the much more fresh-scented and clean lavatory.

As I walked into the restroom, I kicked all of the cubicle doors open, one by one. Confirming that there was no one inside, I picked the cubicle at the end, getting into it and latching door after I closed it. I tapped on the contact of Jessica Hawthorne, Cornwall's secretary. She acted as the middleman between Cornwall and I, although I would usually get the opportunity to speak to him directly.

I tapped on the call button, and the phone immediately began dialling Cornwall. As I waited for a response, I looked around the cubicle warily, double checking that there wasn't anything or anyone around that could compromise my check-in with Valour. Within a few seconds, someone on the other end picked up. "Hello, Laurence. This is Hawthorne. How can I help you?" Hawthorne greeted.

"Hey, I need to speak to Cornwall. If he's not available, I'll just have the conversation directly with you," I requested for Cornwall to be around.

"I'll go check with him. Please hold for a moment," she responded as she put the line on hold.

I waited for a short while, hearing some inaudible noises in the background. It wasn't long before they got back to me. "Laurence, what's the update?" Cornwall spoke on the other end as he fortunately was around to speak to me.

"My apologies that this took so long. Listen, I ain't got a lot of time before someone comes into the restroom and begins eavesdropping on our conversation," I spoke as soon as he stated his query.

"Excuse me, but you're calling in a restroom?" he questioned with much confusion in his tone.

"Well, I'm in a refugee camp set up in the basement of the Sears Tower. There's easily about a thousand people in this damn "market". I'm hella sure that the lavatories are the most secluded areas," I explained my choice in picking such a location.

"Quickly get to the point," he snapped on the other end. "You don't have much time. You said it yourself, right?"

"Right," I responded as I went back on track. "So, this refugee camp I'm in right now—they call it the Refugees of Illinois Centre, or the RIC for short. They're hosting about a thousand refugees, like I mentioned earlier. It's pretty well-guarded by armed soldiers. I've got three other survivors with me—all of them are female."

"What about the male friend you informed us about?" Cornwall added on to the enquiries. "His name was Enrique Vasquez, if I didn't get it wrong?"

My heart dropped for a second as I stopped breathing. I kept the air in my lungs as my mind went blank for a second. My grip on the phone remained tight, but there was nothing much running through my head. The only thing that was, however, was Enrique's death. It replayed before me like a broken record.

I had never really thought about it much in the past few days. I was so caught up with the present, with our survival, that I had already dumped everything in relation to my closest friend back in the past. It only hit me hard when the topic was brought back to me at a time where I was a little more clear-minded.

The trauma rushed towards me as I recalled clearly what had happened that day. The memories that I thought would never feel so horrifying. The vivid picture of Enrique's final tear dropping onto the road below as the alien forced its pincers through his torso. The fear I experienced at that split second that caused me to turn away and run.

I began trembling nervously, my entire body weakened by trepidation. My grasp on the phone loosened as it threatened to slip out of curled fingers. Fortunately, the sweat from my fingers created sufficient friction to stop the phone. Nonetheless, it wasn't going to create much of an effect as I felt my knees shaking, hinting that I was about to collapse to the ground.

"Laurence! You there?" he questioned over the phone. At first, I didn't quite process his voice as I began to slump to the ground. "Laurence!" he yelled into the phone once again, repeating my name multiple times to try to bring me back to my senses.

Finally, I re-entered the real world, wiping my traumatic memories away for the moment as I slammed against the cubicle door to catch myself from falling. My eyes swelled, the veins running through my retina turning visibly red, as I could imagine. Tears flooded my eyes, accumulating to the point that they overflowed and fell to the ground.

"Are you okay?" he asked, probably curious about all the background noise I had made.

"He died, Cornwall!" I cried out. "Those creatures... they impaled him..."

"Oh my god... my condolences..." he responded, clearly unable to find the words to say.

I knew he was truly empathetic. Based on what I've seen, Cornwall wasn't a man who would prioritise missions over the personal issues of the mission-undertakers. It was probably just that he had too many things on his mind and couldn't spend all of his energy on trying to understand my complicated situation—physically and emotionally.

I knew that my conversation was supposed to go beyond just that, especially since I had barely updated him on much in the check-in. However, the moment that he brought Enrique, I couldn't help but break down over his death. At that point, it was senseless to go on with the discussion.

I didn't know how to end the call politely, so I simply hoped that Cornwall would understand my agony. Luckily for me, I heard the door squeak open, meaning that I had another reason to cease the conversation there. "I've gotta go. Someone's here," I informed Cornwall, sniffling and resisting the urge to begin sobbing again.

With that, I brought my phone down and hung up.