Not to say that they were aliens. No. They were just different. They have two eyes, a nose, a mouth, two ears. Everything you would have expected. But they were different in a way, that you know what this was all about. It was about the lowest kind of reason among other theories you have been thinking of. Yet, it was still the most often occurring reason. The fact that you are different itself was the cause, and the assumption that you were same with the rest of the 75 people.

How mundane are people? How susceptible? How banal? How same. You were disappointed with a different reason than the rest of the 75 people. Smiles were beginning to disappear from faces, chatters die as they adjusted their eyes and looked towards the saviors. How brief can joy be.

They lowered their stairs, and down came a few men with their weapons. Guns, big ones, not like the rifles you've seen. These guys meant business. They spoke to you with anger, as if your father had killed theirs. Go up, they said. Fast. Then they prod you and pointed at you, and off you go supporting grandma with your arms.

Up you went, to breathe the sunlight. You looked around, shocked even though you were prepared. You can imagine it in your head, a broken city, but when you see it and it's in front of your eyes it's a whole different story. There was nothing left, except ashes, dust, piles of blackened concrete. Not a speck of green. You see gray ashes in front and all around, you saw nothing of the tall office buildings and apartments. You staggered forward, dragging your grandmother. The ones who got out before you stood agape looking at the view.

To put it simply, if you cram enough people in a room without ventilation and enough food, you will take out a good glob of disease. It was hot and damp, a nasty mix of air. Coughs were the most common, because the air was putrid and nasty, because we didn't drink enough. Next is stomach problems. Your grandma got this one, possibly because she was old, and couldn't get enough sleep with these strange surroundings. Luckily, your parents still have some pills they took from the house, but your grandma was weak anyhow.

Your grandma calls you to her, and you crouched over and found her hand in yours. You rubbed her palms soothingly, and whispered stupid jokes you know she liked. She was weak and strong at the same time. You found your eyes sting after awhile, when you stroke her to sleep and her breath steadied down.

In the dark, you can hear the asynchronous symphony of breathing and snoring. You try to discern which belong to who for amusement. You know you have begun to distinguish people from their voices, it only took a few days for that. Especially for the elders, and the little children. There was little Tanya, whose voice was shrilly and sweet, she was the daughter of Fried two blocks down the road. Mrs. Fried herself was a grumpy homemaker, she ravage about everything and just couldn't stop getting mad at her husband. You wondered how her daughter would turn up, just like her mother? There was also the Greens, who are quiet most of the time. But when Mr. Green spoke he had a heavy bass voice, vibrating, and attractive. Mrs. Green was also quiet, but you heard her sob sometimes when the loudest 'rain' flew by. The list goes on for about 20 more people. You surely couldn't manage to hear the rest of the people in the room.

You believe that when a lot of people think one thought or let's say wish, it will materialize. You read that somewhere. So you started wishing and thinking. 'This will stop, and we will get out of this hole'. Continue, multiply by 76 people who would want the same thing and your wish shall come true. The catch is, wishes come true in ways that you can't imagine. You can factor in this and that, but not everything. Why? Because you are simply not god.

First, it was silent. No more rain, no more hot oven air. Hopes were rising, you can hear mothers chatter to one another. They always chatter when they're excited. You waited, patiently. After a few hours, perhaps a day even - because you've lost track of time - you heard noises. Like machines, like drills.

The noise got louder after a few hours, the men were tense. It wasn't the procedure, once it was safe, there's supposed to be a signal, and there's a latch you can pull that opens up the stairs. Were we trapped? Perhaps a big concrete fell on the opening that we wouldn't be able to open the door anyway. Your father got up slowly, trying not to trip walking between the people, he reached up to the ceiling to feel the vibrations.

'Drills?', he muttered your thoughts aloud.
'By the time they reached us we'd already be dead at that rate,' snuffed your brother.
'Shut up,' you said.

An hour later, the noise was unbearable. It seemed to resonate through the whole room, like being stuck inside a tractor machine. Drrrrrr. Drrrrrr. It went on and on, and you thought the rain was bad enough. Then there was banging, clanking, all sorts of noise for another half an hour.

Then silence for a few minutes, a creak on the door in the ceiling, and light. Too much light. You supposed it was high noon up there. There was too much altogether that everyone shouted and covered their eyes. After a minute, you looked up to see the faces that granted your wish.

The wrong kind of faces.

They didn't forget to build a toilet, at least. There were 76 people in the room, you've counted, and there was 1 toilet. There is always someone inside; the results were of course an undeniable stench coming out from that door. You thought 76 civilized decent people would be able to keep the toilet clean. The reality was, however educated you are you still shit and piss like any other person, and your smell isn't any better.

Mother tried to hold on her bladder as long as she can, everytime. She felt like retching whenever she's in there. You watch her as she held her shirt to her nose, and pulled out extra courage just to get in the toilet. She was born in a lucky era, and now she's unlucky. Grandma, on the other hand, was untouched by the filth. You wonder if she has lost her sense of smell. No, she's just seen worse days.

Finally, it was your dad; the ever loving figure. He got up, and cleaned the whole lot. Right before Mother had to go. People looked at him as though he is crazy, would you rather him be otherwise? You felt bad because it wasn't you who did it, you felt good he got up first so it doesn't have to be you.

Food was scarce now. You guessed they forgot that humans need food to live on. But you knew better, they just didn't expect it to last for so long. They did prepare some, but not enough for 76 people times five days. They thought it would soon end, but no, the rain kept coming. There was nothing else to destroy was there? There was no retaliation, no fighting back, why do they keep on wasting effort? They must really hate you.

Right after all the food were gone, the children start crying. Even Leaking Drain couldn't quiet them. Grandma was hungry, but she didn't say anything. Father, he opened his bag and found the bread mother had packed, he split it into 10 pieces. He kept four pieces; tucked it back, and gave the rest to the children. None of us stopped him, we were silent. It worked, the children were happy and forgot they were just crying a second ago.

Your brother created a new song, it's called Goddamn Fire. Funny enough, it was a cheerful tone. The children learned to sing it, and even their mothers did not stop them from repeatedly saying 'goddamn'. You laughed at your brother and the children. Yet you think he was stupid, singing instead of thinking of a plan for tomorrow, when we all resurface.

So what did you do? While your brother made a song, sang? While your father shared his food, while your grandmother stroke your mother's hand? Nothing. You thought about anger, would you be able to get revenge for your burnt down house? How? No, you won't be able to execute that, you're not even athletic. You thought about the subject you had about politics, you thought about making a change to the world once you are important enough and got a good solid job. You thought about covering your house with the world's strongest material so that it can never be destroyed. Where did your thoughts get you to? Nowhere.

But you don't know that. Because you were busy and lost in it.

You got out to the pavement with your bag, people were already out before you, and still more are coming. Everyone, without a smile, everyone walking briskly, some half running. You braced yourself against the cold wind and walked to the same direction. Like a parade of fishes in the sea meeting the same fate.

Your family beside you, you keep walking till you reach the safe room. Safe they said, from a hit if it happened. They didn't tell you it wouldn't keep you safe from sorrow. The room was packed, there was barely a spot to sit down. It smelled and there was lack of air. You found a corner with your family, and tried to get yourself comfortably sitting. Waiting.

The first one didn't come immediately, it didn't even come that day. You thought you should have taken your time and took more of your stuff with you. As if there was any room for more stuff in that shallow bunker.

When it came, it sounded like rain, because there was so many of them. At first you only heard the sounds and feel a little tremor going up your spine. Later on, it was so near and so strong you felt you went deaf. You thought it was never going to end.

They were right, you were left alive in that room. They made sure you were alive to experience the rest of your life. It went on and on for two whole days before the next worse thing. By now your ears have gotten used to it. You have learned how to drink while the room shook. Then one of them fell right above you you know by now that there was no roof above this roof, that is why this time it felt so real, so near.

The lamp died. The light was substituted with children screaming, mother hushing. In the dark- not just dark, it was pitch black-you found little to believe in. You heard prayers being said across the room, but you found little comfort with it. In the black, you noticed you couldn't tell a difference between the old and the young, the woman and the man. In the eyes of black, everyone and everything was equal.

It was your brother that broke the sobbing, he created silence. In the black, there was only one thing to do. Listen to music. He played his recently composed song on the small damn ukulele. It wasn't very good. He made mistakes here and there. But people listened, there was nothing else to hold on to. He was the lighthouse.

The song was called, "The Leaking Drain". You had laughed at it, who ever thinks a leaking drain sings. But now, you're not sure it's silly anymore.

When he finished, silence went over the room, and we slept replaying The Leaking Drain over again in our head.