Kate stirred beside me, her eyelids trembling before she blinked up at me, still half lost in sleep.
"Mom…?" Her voice was soft, cracked from thirst.
I brushed her hair gently from her forehead. "I'm here. It's okay. But we need to move soon."
Her eyes searched mine, sensing my tension even if she didn't understand it fully. Children always did. They felt danger long before adults dared to speak it.
I stood carefully, legs stiff from sleeping on stone and dirt. Before leaving the cave, I scanned the ground outside—no tracks, no animals, no signs of anyone passing. Only the quiet rustle of wind through the leaves.
I picked up a thick branch I had spotted earlier, sturdy and long enough to be used as a spear or a club. It wasn't a weapon, not really—but anything was better than nothing.
"Stay close to me," I whispered as Kate stood, rubbing her eyes. "No wandering. No noise."
She nodded with surprising seriousness.
We stepped out of the cave and into the morning light. The forest canopy softened the brightness, casting mottled shadows across the ground. The air was warm, humid, heavy with the scent of tropical flowers and damp soil.
I chose a direction leading gradually uphill. Height meant safety. A view. A chance to understand this island before it swallowed us whole.
As we climbed, I kept the stick ready, sweeping bushes aside, watching the ground for snakes or holes. Kate walked just behind me, one hand gripping the back of my shirt.
We found fruit first—small round ones with greenish-yellow skin. I recognized them after a moment: guava. I cracked one open and held it to my nose. Sweet, unmistakable. Safe… and full of seeds Kate would probably complain about.
Still, hunger mattered more than taste.
We sat for a minute on a fallen log while we shared two of them, the juicy flesh giving us a bit of strength. The forest buzzed with distant bird calls, and now and then the leaves rustled with the light scampering of small animals.
As we continued farther uphill, I spotted something moving between the roots of a large tree. Kate froze instantly, instinct telling her to hide behind me.
A rabbit.
Small, brown, and quick, but not impossibly fast. My mind turned over possibilities. A snare… a simple trap… vines could work. Branches could work. If we stayed in one place long enough, I could build something. Cook something. Feed us properly.
"Mom… can we catch it?" Kate whispered.
"Not now," I murmured. "But maybe soon. We'll need protein to survive. This island… offers more than I expected."
That surprised me. Tropical islands were often dangerous, yes—but they rarely had animals like rabbits. That meant someone had introduced them… or this wasn't a natural island at all.
A chill crawled up my spine.
We kept moving upwards.
In my dream, people had sat on the beach for days, waiting for rescue. Waiting, praying, crying. They had believed someone would come. They had made flags from shirts, drawn signs in the sand.
But nothing came.
Days turned into weeks. Then violence. Then starvation. Then madness.
If the dream was a memory—of a past life, of a time loop, of trauma carried across realities—it didn't matter. The warning was clear:
Don't wait. Don't rely on hope. Don't count on anyone.
We pushed through thicker vegetation, my stick helping clear spiderwebs and tall grass. Roots tangled under our feet. Sweat dripped down my neck, and Kate's breathing became shallow, but she didn't slow.
"We'll rest soon," I promised, noticing a steep drop on one side—the kind of place that meant we were nearing the top of a ridge.
With every step, the world opened more. Wind grew stronger. The air smelled of salt again.
And when we finally reached a flat cliffside, I stopped dead.
From here, I could see the entire coastline. The endless beach, the clusters of trees… and tiny figures moving far below near the shore. Some fighting. Some limping. Some screaming at each other.
Chaos had already begun.
Kate tugged on my hand. "Mom… are we safe up here?"
"For now," I whispered, gripping the stick tighter. "And we're going to stay ahead of everyone else this time."
I scanned the landscape, mind racing. Food. Water source. Shelter. Weapons. Pathways. The highest point for when the ocean turned violent.
This time, we would be ready.
We followed the ridge path a little farther until the ground curved upward into a steep stone formation. Vines draped down like curtains, half hiding something that caught my attention—a hollow, dark shape in the rock.
A cave.
"Mom?" Kate whispered, clutching my hand tighter. She sounded nervous, but also hopeful.
I pushed aside the vines. The opening was only waist-high, but deep enough that shadows swallowed everything a few steps in. I crouched and listened for any sound—breathing, scraping, animal growls, anything—but all I heard was the wind and the ocean far below.
"This place will do," I murmured.
We crawled inside. The floor was uneven but dry. The cave opened into natural space big enough for a room. Perfect. A fortress of stone for two people with nowhere else to go.
I turned to Kate. "We can make this work."
She nodded with a small smile, proud to be part of the effort.
We gathered branches from the forest edge—thick ones for support, thin ones to layer—and dragged them inside. Kate followed with handfuls of long grass, moss, and soft leaves. She even giggled once when she found a patch of moss that was soft as a pillow.
"Good job," I told her, ruffling her hair.
Together we built a rough bedding area, enough to lift our bodies off the cold cave floor. It looked terrible—like a nest made by a desperate animal—but it felt better than lying on hard stone. Kate tested it by sitting, bouncing a little.
"It's not too bad," she said, trying to be brave.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. "It's perfect for now."
Outside, the sky was dimming. Colors shifted from gold to orange to deepening blue. The wind carried a cooler bite, and I felt Kate's small body shiver beside me.
Fire would help.
But fire meant light.
Light meant being found.
And if my dream was true… if people really turned violent, desperate, cruel… then any light was as dangerous as a scream in the night.
"No fire tonight," I decided quietly.
Kate didn't argue, but she curled closer to me, seeking warmth. I pulled a few palm leaves over us like a blanket.
Night came slowly, shadows filling the cave mouth until only a sliver of fading blue remained. As the world darkened, the noises from the beach grew sharper. Voices. Arguments. Someone yelling. Something heavy being dragged.
I looked down the slope. From this height, I could see everything—movements of survivors gathering near the water, attempts to organize into groups, people fighting over pieces of driftwood or bags washed ashore. Even from here, I could feel the tension rising among them.
It was already beginning… just like the dream.
"Will it happen again?" I whispered to myself.
In the dream, we had stayed on the beach, hoping for help. None came. People divided into gangs. Hunger turned into violence. And when the tsunami arrived… we didn't stand a chance.
I squeezed Kate a little tighter.
Not this time.
This time I knew what was coming.
She peered up at me sleepily, eyes soft and trusting. "Mom… what are we going to do tomorrow?"
Tomorrow.
We needed a plan.
"We'll explore the other side of the island," I told her gently. "If we can find water, fruit, somewhere safer… we'll make a base. A real one."
"And weapons?" she asked quietly.
My heart twisted. A child shouldn't know what that word meant in survival terms. But the world wasn't fair. Not this one. Not the one in my dream.
"Yes," I said softly. "Something to protect us."
She nodded and rested her head on my lap.
I looked out at the ocean.
The night was calm now, but subtle signs were already there—waves slightly pulling back, the waterline shifting just a little too far. In my dream, these were the early warnings.
I wasn't going to ignore them again.
This time, I was going to stay ahead of the nightmare.
I was going to keep my daughter alive.