Chaos.
That's the only word for it.
Dust and debris make it hard to see.
Coughing. Screaming. And the skittering, alien sound that raises every hair on my neck.
I stagger forward, my lungs burning as I cough and choke on the thick dust swirling through the air. My eyes water, and I can barely make out Dad's silhouette through the haze. The stairs? Completely obscured.
Then I see it. A monstrous, ant-like creature looming over Dad. My mind reels, unable to process the impossible sight before me. Dad swings his golf club, the metal connecting with a sickening crunch against the creature's chitinous body.
Time slows to a crawl as one of its legs—sharp as a spear—pierces Dad's shoulder. His agonized scream jolts me into action. I charge forward, club raised high, aiming for its massive, alien eye.
