This is my entry in the Week 24 Finish the Story Contest. The first part of the story is provided by 
Change blew in on the air that morning, whispering through a sleeping town. An eerie quiet rested along the main road, early commuters not yet disturbing the grey dawn. A wisp of waning moon, brushed pink with the gentle glow of the coming sun, hung low in the ombre sky.
A subtle shift rocked the heavy foliage of scattered trees, rippling between the houses. The cool silence of night still clung to the shadows. A lone ginger cat stalked between the sentinels of bins guarding the curbs. It paused, hair bristling along it’s back as it sensed a disturbance rushing past.
A lone mournful howl echoed in the streets, erupting into a sorrowful symphony as others took up the canine call.
Not a single harsh bark interrupted the lament that awoke the town that morning.
Back doors opened onto gardens, not quite the same. Concerned residents in an array of dressing gowns, coats and slippers, padded outside to find the same, inexplicable sight.
Theo hadn’t been home in months. He had told his mum he was getting clean. It was a lie. He hadn’t been clean in years.
The dark country road snaked before him, a twisting river of retreating night. She had insisted he came home for the wedding. Theo couldn’t stand her boyfriend, but his mum had half chewed his ear off over it, and he couldn’t deny, he owed her this.
He swore under his breath. The rising itch was dancing across his skin. The hard edge cutting inside him. He needed another hit. He had been driving since 1am, he loaded up before he set off, but the ragged scraping of the comedown was consuming.
He glanced at the road, he hadn’t passed another car in hours, and he knew these twisting roads.
One hand on the wheel, he fumbled through the bag on the passenger seat. He couldn’t face that c*nt sober, Aunt Hazel would help.
His skin flushed with the intense bliss coursing through his veins as he approached the sleeping streets.
Dawn was pushing towards the horizon, her soft pink glow catching the clipped moon.
Theo was speeding when he got to the town. He heard the hair-raising call of neighbourhood dogs, raising their cry as one.
Then he saw it. The change. He couldn’t look away. He didn’t see the tree.
Even as his car scraped against rough bark, Theo kept his eyes on the giant figure splayed out in the town green. It was only when his passenger side mirror snapped off that he slammed his brakes.
Momentary disbelief and shock filled him at the ruin of his last valuable possession, but his attention quickly snapped back to the center of town.
He had a clear view from where he’d veered off the road, but even from further back he’d have been able to see its legs over the one-story buildings that made up his hometown. They jutted out from its lifeless body, which was flipped on its back.
This was the first dead one he’d seen since the giant ant overlords had won their gruesome war over the country. Not even broadcasts from overseas had shown any dead since then, leading most to believe them invincible. Of course there was also the possibility that the foreign media just didn’t report on them; Australia was accustomed to being forgotten by the rest of the world.
Theo wound his way through the onlookers. Nobody paid him any attention. They were all too busy murmuring in frightened voices. He stepped free of everyone with his arm extended when someone grabbed at him.
“Theo! What are you thinking?” hissed his mother.
“I want to see if it’s really dead,” he said, turning to her and taking in her terrified expression.
Her obvious fear brought him back to himself a little. Heroin had transmuted the alarm he should be feeling into a wild exhilaration.
“For heaven’s sake, don’t touch it.”
“Oh, right,” he said, realizing that made some sense.
They both stepped back from the creature. Around them people were leaving.
“We should head home. Ranjit’s probably there.”
“I’ll meet you there,” he said. “I have to grab my bag.”
He hurried towards his car before she could protest.
He couldn’t get to his bag from the passenger side so he slid into the driver’s seat and took hold of it, but he didn’t lift up yet.
His supply would only last him a week at most. Probably less. His car still worked.
Aside from all that, there was also the dead ant. They’d always been merciless. Even if this one had died from natural causes the others would almost certainly retaliate against the town. That was their way. But chances were they wouldn’t come looking for him, not if he left right now.
And what reason did he have to stay anyway? His mother, just because she was family?
He released his hold on the bag.
Then again what did he have to run towards? Back to scrounging together the money for his next high, always needing a little more. Was that struggle any better than a hopeless war against giant ants?
He hefted up the bag onto his shoulder. Maybe he’d stay for the sake of a different kind of struggle, one that had a point, possibly even an end.