Anna knew they were ruined when the tourists stop coming.

But Mike remained adamant that this was all a temporary drama and typical, silly behaviour from cosseted European travelers. They always panicked at the first sign of anything unexpected.

"If the tour bus leaves ten minutes late, they freak out. If they get an extra piece of tomato in their salad, they freak out. They're big babies, you know that better than I do Anna," he said. "And now we have a little change in the weather and they're cancelling their flights, pah, pathetic!" He shook his head and took a long drag on his beer, relaxing back into his lazyboy to watch a game of rugby. "The Springboks better thump the Wallabies, I'm sick and tired of backing a losing team."

Nerves wrestled at the edges of her stomach, firing off in her belly. She hated this conversation, they'd had it so many times in the last few weeks and it always ended badly. "It's more than the tourists Mike, you know that. We have plenty of money, we don't have to worry about the financial impact of tour groups cancelling their bookings with us. Can't you see what's really going on here? This is not a short-term weather shift, this is a climate crisis."

She persisted. "What about the neighbours? The Van der Walts left months ago for New Zealand, the Johnsons were raided last week, and the police have no control. It's all a mess." Her voice rose to an anxious, screechy pitch. "Mike, stop being so damned stubborn! We're in a total mess!"

"Anna, that's enough! We are not leaving! We are here to stay. We have everything we need stored in those tanks and this is our home, dammit! We've worked for years and years to build up what we have, the kids grew up in this house and I'm not leaving because of one bad phase of weather!"

He stared at the big screen television, ignoring Anna. The whistle blew for kick-off.

Sometimes she hated him. When had he become such a stubborn old fool? He even smelt and looked old, a shroud of stale sweat clung to his skin and the patchy, grey stubble on his face made him look unruly, like a sad vagrant. He hardly ever showered or shaved these days, he said that showering was a luxury they could do without.

Unable to shake off the thick dread roiling in her stomach, Anna got up off the couch. There was no point in trying to talk to Mike while he was watching rugby. "I'm going to sit in the garden."

"Mmm," he grunted.

Anna stood. "Call me at half-time, I want to watch the weather forecast," she said.

"Mmm."

Anna sat on the small bench under the shelter of the mature trees. Shielded from the street and the neighbours by six foot high boundary walls, Anna found a moment's peace in the privacy of their half acre garden. The tanks were well hidden in the back corner of the property and all that remained visible to the naked eye was the landscaped terrain of what was once a lush garden.

She stared at her hands on her lap in the softening light. Her skin looked parched, paper thin, her nails brittle and unkempt. She picked at the last vestiges of colour that she hadn't removed properly. She was hopeless at doing her own grooming. All the nail salons had shut down, and now the hairdressers were closing. No more luxury services. By government decree, only essential services were to be kept running, like hospitals, police, hotels. And prisons­­––wasn't that ironic?

The familiar buzz of the electric fence on top of the boundary wall kept her company. At least their pristine suburb still had an uninterrupted electricity supply. All of their home security ran on electricity; their alarms, CCTV, fences and gates. Without these defenses, they were utterly exposed.

Evening air settled on her shoulders. A shiver ran through her, prickling her skin. She fiddled with her blouse buttons and rubbed her dry hands against one another. Shapes moved about in the garden. Perhaps the maid was home from bible study, walking to her room. Trees rustled in the breeze. Insects stirred and clattered––the few that had survived weather upset. Anna longed to hear the sweet whistles and songs from the garden birds, but they'd almost disappeared since the garden had waned and lost its lush, attractive insect population.

"Perhaps the birds have gone north," Anna murmured aloud. The sound echoed in the empty garden. "Maybe it's their normal migration pattern and I'm reading too much into their absence."

The streets were eerily quiet for late on a Tuesday afternoon. Ordinarily people would be arriving home from work and the sound of passing cars and buses could be heard. Or the chatter of children playing in their neighbours' yards. Even the sound of domestic workers exchanging greetings in Xhosa as they walked by had become less and less frequent. All of her life Anna had longed for quiet places, but this unnerved her, like the calm before a mighty, frightening storm.

She jolted when her phone buzzed against her leg. Anna kept it stashed in the right pocket of her pants, away from thieving hands and close enough to call the police. She pulled it out and checked the screen. Maura, their neighbour from three houses down.

Anna quickly answered. "Hello," she said, rubbing the side of her face.

"Honey, it's me, Maura." Maura's usually smooth voice carried a brittle edge.

"Yes, I know. Is something wrong? Is that why you're calling?" Anna asked, nibbling at the quick of her nail.

Maura was adamant that chaos loomed in their city and that's why the army had been sent in. They weren't here to help with the distribution of food and critical supplies, like the government said, but they were here to keep control of us, the people, because we would soon be fighting each other to stay alive.

"Anna, honey, I wanted to be the first to tell you. Pete's been offered a job in Canada and we're all leaving on Saturday. We're going to Toronto."

Anna drew in a sharp breath. Her heart thumped unsteadily. She felt quite dizzy, nauseous. Maura and Pete were leaving. They were their only friends left. Oh God, that made Anna feel like such an idiot. Were they the only people stupid enough to stay?

"Are you there, Anna?" Maura asked, her voice softer.

She cleared her throat. "Yes, I'm here," Anna said. "I'm a . . . I'm a bit surprised, that's all. It's happened so quickly, I mean, Pete found a job really quickly."

Things were so easy for them, it made Anna sick. She rubbed her chapped lips against one another, pressing her hand hard against her mouth, feeling the flakes of skin grating her fingers.

"Anna, meet me at your gate. I'm coming over to explain everything, before it gets dark. I don't want to be out after dark." Maura ended the call.

Anna waited at the tall electronic gate. She heard Maura's light footfall on the pavement before she saw her. She looked harassed, untidy. Maura's usual sleek blonde bob was tied back, bits springing out everywhere. She reached for Anna's hand through a gap in the metal bars, her grip warm and soft against Anna's sandpapery skin.

With her other hand, Maura pressed something hard and cold into Anna's palm and said, "These are the keys to our house. Take them Anna, take whatever you and Mike need, the tanks and the pantry are full, everything is yours."

"Thank you," Anna said. Stunned, sick, dry.

Maura drew in a deep breath. "Anna, you and Mike must get out of here. Things are happening in Khayelitsha that we don't see. People are desperate, they're forming gangs, fighting. People are dying and the hospitals can't cope." She gave Anna a long look with anxious eyes. "Don't waste time, honey, I've heard they're coming to the suburbs and they have a leader." She emphasized the point with raised eyebrows. "Some guy who thinks he's Robin Hood."

"I know," Anna replied. "I know we should leave, but Mike won't, you know how he is Maura."

Maura nodded. They talked urgently for a few minutes, discussing the details of Maura and Pete's departure; the best access points for their house and tanks. They hugged goodbye through the bars, promising they'd stay in touch. Maura left, hurrying down the road.

Anna walked back to sit on her bench in the garden. She slipped Maura's keys into her left pocket. The sky had darkened but she didn't want to go inside yet. She'd have to go back to being cooped up in the house with Mike's determined ignorance and it made her want to scream. She gnawed and gnawed at the quick of her nail, tasting the coppery saltiness of her blood.

Barely seconds later she heard shouts. A woman screamed.

Oh God, that's Maura's voice. Anna's hand flew to her throat.

She leapt off the bench and heard doors slam and people shouting words she couldn't make out, followed by sounds of movement. She stood as still as a statue, her hand clutching her dry throat. Anna rubbed the side of her neck and held her breath.

"Bang! Bang!" Gunshots shattered the evening air.

She sprinted into the lounge to find Mike asleep in his chair.

"Wake up Mike! Wake up! Please . . ." she pleaded as she shook his shoulder. Nothing. She shook him again, rougher this time. Her heart pounded, thumping hard, fit to burst out of her chest. She knew their time had to come, they couldn't hide forever.

He stirred and for a moment the smell of his unwashed clothing overwhelmed her. What animals had they become?

"Huh . . .What is it?" he asked, drowsy.

"Gunshots, guns, Mike! They're coming! We need to hide."

"What?" He sat upright, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses.

"I just told you! Listen to me, please. I heard gunshots and people shouting outside. It sounded like Pete and Maura." She gasped, her hand squeezing Mike's forearm. "They've been attacked."

"By who? Who would want to attack them?"

"For God's sake Mike, stop being so dumb. I'm talking about the people from Khayelitsha who are coming! We need to hide or they'll kill us."

He rubbed his forehead and levered his lazyboy upright. "I'm going to the toilet. We can talk about what's going on when I get back." He got up and ambled out of the lounge.

Anna expelled a rush of stale breath. Why was he so blind to everything? She rubbed her neck and the sides of her face, pulling at her earlobes until they hurt. She paced across the room and back, waiting for his return. Waiting.

The room went black. Lights off, TV off.

"Oh God, oh God."

She ran to the light switch, toggled it. Nothing happened. She ran to the kitchen, yanked open the main switch panel, hit the reset button. Nothing happened. She felt a wave of dizziness, blood drained from her body. The people had cut the electricity supply to their house, she and Mike were totally unarmed and unprotected.

Shuffling, banging sounds came from every direction. Voices, talking in her garden. She swiveled her head from side to side, trying to get her bearings.

She stopped and then, unexpectedly, a sense of calm fell over her like a soft cloak. Her thoughts cleared for the first time in weeks. They were here, there was nothing they could do.

She stood in the kitchen and waited. Mike called for her but she didn't respond. She waited.

A loud knock on the door, the rap of hard knuckles against wood. Voices. Shouting.

"Open the door!"

They were too late. She and Mike were too late to hide from the people.

"Open the door or we shoot it open!"

She walked to the front door and opened it. A sea of burning eyes and guns pointed at her. In front of them stood a tall man. About thirty, well-groomed with dry lines around his eyes. He looked tired. Time moved very slowly. A powerful odour of dried sweat and dirty clothes wafted over Anna. They probably hadn't washed since Day: Zero.

"We have come for your water," the tall man said. "We know you rich people have full water tanks in your gardens. Either surrender them or we kill you."

She stepped aside to let them in.

They were the new kings of Cape Town.