The four-wheeler hummed beneath me, the low, mechanical whine of the solar-powered engine the only sound breaking the silence of the wilderness. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the desolate land that stretched out in every direction. It was mid-September, and though the days were still warm, the nights had begun to take on a frigid edge.

I was not in the best state physically, half starved, weary. I could feel the dry, cracked skin on my hands, the grime under my nails, the layer of sweat that had clung to me for weeks. I reeked like hell’s landfill. I hadn’t seen another living soul in nearly a month, so no one was around to smell the stink. But God could I smell it!

The world had fallen away behind me, a distant memory of cracked highways and silent cities. Civilization had ended somewhere back there, at the edge of the horizon. What had begun as a journey out of necessity had turned into something else, entirely a lonesome escape. But even out here, in the depopulated zones of what used to be the United States, I still had a destination.

I tapped the screen of the tablet mounted on the dashboard in front of me, it lit up with a faint blue glow. There was no GPS link to track me, no satellites monitoring my position. This bit of technology didn’t rely on any of that. My grandfather had built it that way, way back when his software company was still running, before the government shut him down to pay for the “emergency taxes” that came with the energy crisis. He’d always said this software would never go to the public and he was right.

The tablet displayed a simple map of the world, no real-time updates, no signals or coordinates, and no trackable GPS signals. Just a map and a single, fixed route between two points. Point A was my current position, and it could be anywhere on the map. Point B was the destination, my destination. A place hidden deep in the wilderness, where no one would find me. Not the Amero-Mob, not the law, and certainly not anyone else who had an interest in seeing me dead.

Three more days of travel. That’s what the tablet told me. I studied the map, noting the small markers where water supplies had once been. Most of them were long gone now, broken water tanks, rusted out, dry or holding nothing but moldy sludge. Still, there were a few places along the way where I might find something drinkable. But I wasn’t counting on it. Out here, nothing was guaranteed.

I wiped the sweat from my brow, licking it up, my throat dry and cracked from hours without water. I’d rationed what I had left, knowing full well there might not be another source for miles. The desolation was absolute out here. By law, no one was supposed to live in these regions anymore. They’d been declared “human-free zones” years ago, when the Federal government still pretended to care about such things as environmental degradation. In the end, there was no one left to enforce it. The law had fallen silent, like everything else.

I’d passed through a dozen ghost towns by now. Empty farms, cabins, a ski resort that had long since fallen into ruin. It was all the same everywhere out here; empty, hollow, forgotten. Once, I came across a couple of human skeletons, their bones picked clean by the elements and whatever animals still wandered through these parts. The scene had the look of a drug deal gone sideways. There were guns and bags of white powder still scattered around their remains. I didn’t touch any of discarded material, weapons, supplies and all contaminated by a narcotic. I had my own rifle to fend off wildlife. That was enough.

I glanced at the wolf hide tied to the makeshift roof of my four-wheeler, the fur a deep, mottled gray. I’d killed the alpha beast a few days back when it had come for me in the night. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to fight off predators out here, and it wouldn’t be the last. The kill had been quick, efficient just like my grandfather had taught me. A single shot, then the skinning. I’d made use of what I could. The rest, I left for the carrion eaters. The wilderness took care of its own.

The road, which was not a road, began to slope upward, and I could see the mountains in the near distance, jagged peaks rising out of the earth like the bones of a massive, long dead ancient creature. The Rocky Mountains, I’d be there soon, setting up camp for the night. The destination was out there, somewhere up in the mountains, hidden in a place that no one knew existed. My grandfather’s secret place to disappear to.

I heard the steady beep, beep of my timer. Thank God. I stopped the four-wheeler.

I reached for the canteen strapped to the seat beside me and took a long, careful drink. The water was stale, warm from the heat of the sun, but it was all I had. There might be a stream up ahead there usually was this far into the mountains. I checked the tablet again. It showed the nearest water source was another water tank a few miles ahead. My note next to it read: "Likely empty."

No guarantees. That was the world now.

I thought back to the beginning of this journey, back to my hometown. A city that had become nothing more than a hollowed-out shell, a place where the remnants of humanity clung to what little they had left. Getting out of there had been the first of many risks, and I hadn’t been sure I’d survive that leg of the trip, let alone make it this far. I’d had to rely on the black market, a thriving network of people smugglers and paid guides who specialized in getting people like me, fugitives, across the heavily monitored zones.

The memory was still fresh, the tension vivid in my mind. I’d been crammed into the back of an electric truck, hidden under a pile of scrap metal, barely able to breathe. The driver, a smuggler who specialized in moving people, had promised me a clean run out of the city. But promises meant nothing in a world like this. No guarantees.

I could still see the flashing lights of the patrol cars as they pulled us over, the two cops sauntering up to the cab. From my cramped hiding spot, I’d watched through a crack in the scrap pile as the driver stepped out, his face calm, almost bored, as if this was just another day on the job. And for him, it probably was.

One of the cops was big, with a mountainous gut that hung over his belt, peered into the cab, eyes narrowing. For a moment, I thought he’d noticed the shifting pile of metal in the back. My heart pounded in my chest as I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable. The other cop circled the truck, his flashlight sweeping over the cargo, getting closer and closer to my hiding spot. Just a few inches more, and it would all be over.

Then I saw it. The driver slipped a wad of cash into the big cop’s hand, a swift, practiced motion, barely visible. The cop grunted, glanced back at the truck, and waved his partner off. They didn’t even bother to do a fake search of the flatbed. They just took the bribe and left, the sound of their patrol cars fading into the night.

I’d learned a lot about the world in that moment. I learned how thin the line was between life and death, between freedom and captivity. That line was as fragile as the integrity of those cops. That line is easily broken, easily bought. Sobering and for most people heartbreaking, but for me it was a grim confirmation of reality.

A day later, I’d been dropped off outside a small town, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. The smuggler had driven off without a word, his job done. But before I could even catch my breath, a kid, couldn’t have been more than fifteen, appeared out of nowhere, his eyes scanning me with the cold efficiency of someone who’d been doing this for a while.

The kid handed me the tablet, my only means of navigation, and the keys to the four-wheeler parked in a nearby shed. The entire exchange had been silent, mechanical, like we were both part of some well-oiled machine. The kid had saved my life, whether he knew it or not. I hadn’t even had time to thank him before he disappeared back into the shadows. I hadn’t seen another person since.

The tablet had been a blessing, but the program I installed onto it from a flash drive my grandfather had given me, was my true lifesaver. My map to a new home. It was the only thing standing between me and getting completely lost out here in the wilderness. A relic of a time when my family still had the means to build things that mattered, before everything had been pillaged from us. I glanced at the screen again, checking the route.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, the sky turning shades of deep red and orange. I’d have to stop soon, set up camp before nightfall. The nights out here were dangerously cold, silent, and full of things that hunted in the dark. I couldn’t afford to be careless. Not anymore.

As the four-wheeler rumbled on, I thought about the last time I’d seen another human. A drifter, maybe, back in the shadow of a large town. Or maybe it was a mirage. The memory felt distant, disconnected from the now. Out here, the days bled together into a single, unbroken stretch of time. It was easy to forget where one day ended and another began. But forgetting wasn’t an option. Not for me. Not yet. Just three more days.

Hours later, the terrain began to change, the gentle slopes of the foothills giving way to steeper inclines. The mountain I was supposed to hike up tomorrow loomed ahead, its dark silhouette cutting into the sky. But before I could reach it, there was another challenge, a large hill that adjoined the mountain, steep enough that I’d have to zigzag my way up.

I checked the four-wheeler’s battery, nodding when I saw that I had just enough juice to make it. The last thing I needed was to be stranded halfway up the hill with no power, no way to keep moving. Satisfied with my mental math, I started up the incline, the wheels kicking up dust and loose rocks as the engine whined in protest.

As I climbed, a strange creaking sound reached my ears, a low, rhythmic groaning that seemed to echo across the hillside. It was faint at first, carried by the wind, but it grew louder as I ascended. I tensed, my hands tightening on the handlebars, but I saw no immediate threat. Just the endless expanse of wilderness, broken only by the jagged edges of the mountain ahead.

Still, the sound unnerved me. It was unnatural in a place like this, a place that should have been silent but for the wind and the distant calls of whatever wildlife still lived out here. But I pushed on, zigzagging up the hill, the creaking fading into the background as I focused on the task at hand.

When I finally reached the top, I stopped the four-wheeler and gasped in wonder. Before me stretched a sight I hadn’t expected, something that hadn’t appeared on the tablet’s notations: a wind farm. Rows upon rows of massive turbines, their long blades turning lazily in the mountain breeze, spread out across the landscape like silent sentinels. Hundreds of them dotted the hillsides, their pale forms standing in stark contrast to the darkening sky.

I killed the engine and climbed off the four-wheeler, standing at the top of the hill to take in the view. The turbines were huge, towering over everything around them, their bases anchored firmly in the ground. Most were still, their blades frozen in time, long abandoned and left to rust. But here and there, a few still turned, their creaking groans echoing through the valley below. Somehow, despite the collapse of everything else, some of these machines continued their endless work, as if they hadn’t yet realized the world, they’d been built for no longer existed.

I stood there for a long time on the top of the hill, mesmerized by the sight. I knew I should get to work and camp, but something of the sight arrested me. I watched the blades turn, some slower than others, and wondered, not for the first time, how we had ended up here. How had we built all this, all of this incredible machinery that could harness the wind, and then let it all fall apart?

It didn’t make sense. We humans had built cities that touched the sky, machines that could move people across the world in hours or days, technologies that had once made the impossible seem routine. And now… now there was nothing left but ruins, broken machines, and crumbling buildings scattered across a world that no longer remembered why it had collapsed in the first place.

"How?" I whispered to myself; my voice barely audible over the wind. I already knew the answer, of course. Absurd instances of greed, corruption, disease, wars, natural disasters, dumbass politicians, and the other usual suspects. But knowing all that didn’t make it any easier to understand, not with a sight like this. The remnants of something so wonderfully grand, so impossibly complex, now left to rot in the middle of nowhere.

I watched the sun dip lower in the sky, its light casting the turbines in hues of orange and gold. For a moment, it almost looked like the world was still whole, like we hadn’t brought it all crashing down. But then the sun disappeared behind the mountains in the distance, and the last of the light faded from the blades.

The wind stopped. The turbines that had been turning slowed to a halt, their creaking groans dying with the last breeze. And suddenly, a terrible feeling gripped me, deep in my chest, an invisible cold shadow settling down onto my heart.

"Why?" I whispered, this time louder, as if the vanished wind itself might offer an answer. But there was no response. Just silence. Tears spilled from my eyes, hot and unexpected, the moment searing my soul. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the bones of a civilization that had once thought itself invincible, I felt so small. Insignificant. Just another human, standing at the edge of something far greater than myself, and utterly helpless to change it.

I stood there as the sky darkened and the turbines stood silent, tears streaking my dirt-stained face, wondering how we had let it all slip away. It all hit me too hard and then…

The emotional tidal wave struck me, and I let it. I don’t know how long I laid there, supine, the weight of the world holding me down, the tears coming harder than I’d expected. But eventually, the sobbing slowed. The tightness in my chest loosened, the fire of grief and anger dimmed.

I was empty, but I felt lighter somehow, like my mourning had cleansed something inside me. My face was still wet, the cold wind chilling my skin, and I took a deep breath, wiping my face with the back of my sleeve. I had cried enough.

I pushed myself up slowly, my legs stiff from kneeling in the dirt. The world had already shifted into darkness, the last remnants of the sunset long gone. I fumbled my way over to the four-wheeler, my hands searching through the dimness until I found what I needed, the flashlight. Its beam pierced the night, cutting through the darkness around me.

The thirst hit me hard as I looked for the canteen. My throat felt even drier than before, raw from the tears. I unscrewed the cap, tilted it back, and drank it all. I cursed myself under my breath for wasting it on tears, but deep down, I knew it had been necessary. I needed to mourn, and now, the tears were behind me.

I reached for the last jug of water, carefully pouring it into the canteen, not willing to waste a single drop this time. Every bit of water out here mattered. Once the canteen was full again, I capped it and set it aside, a small sense of relief washing over me.

It was time to set up camp. I gathered some wood from nearby dead trees, dry and brittle in my hands, and soon enough, I had a small fire going. The orange flames flickered against the dark, the yellow light casting long shadows over the campsite. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep the cold at bay for the night. I pulled on my winter coat from the large duffle bag of supplies stowed in the four-wheeler’s towed tailer.

I pulled out my sleeping bag, laying it beside the fire, and rummaged through my nearly depleted food stores. Pulling out one of the RME rations and heated it with some water over the fire in a small frypan. The smell of the food, beef jerky with fake mushroom and broccoli. That brought a little more comfort, a hot meal. I sat down, chewing slowly, staring into the flames.

When the meal was gone, I leaned back, resting on the ground beside the fire, and looked up into the sky. The night was clear, the stars brighter than I’d seen them in years. Out here, away from the cities and their artificial light, the sky was alive with stars. I leaned back, letting the fire’s warmth settle into my bones as I stared up at the night sky.

I hadn’t seen the night’s sky like this in years. No even longer, well over a decade. The sky was a blanket of darkness, but it wasn’t empty. No, the stars were scattered across it like diamonds, glittering and cold, stretching far beyond what my eyes could grasp.

And there, cutting through it all, was the Milky Way.

A river of light, flowing across the heavens. Light tracing and stretching from one end of the universe to the other, its stars clustered so densely packed they seemed to blur together into a luminous band of glittering silver. The longer I stared, the more detail I could see. Faint hues of blue and purple, the distant galaxies, the soft glow of nebulae hiding between the stars. It was like looking into eternity itself. Beauty.

I took a deep breath, letting the sight of it wash over me, soothing the rawness of my mind. The vastness of it made everything else feel small. My pain, grief, even the weight of humanity’s collapse all seemed distant, like a far-off memory lost in the immensity of the universe. It healed me.

“How could we ever think we were the center of it all?” I whispered to the night. “We built our cities, empires, thinking we were gods, but out here… under this sky… we’re nothing more than dust. Just passing through.”

The stars didn’t care. The Milky Way didn’t care. The universe had been here long before us, and it will be here long after. I felt small, but not in a hopeless way. There was something… comforting… about being just a speck in a grand design. The universe was vast, incomprehensible, and indifferent, but somehow that indifference gave me a strange kind of peace. Acceptance.

Out here, beneath the stars, I was just another wanderer. No one chasing me, no past pulling me down, just me and the endless night sky. How many of those stars had their own planets? How many worlds were out there, spinning in the darkness, with little biological lives of their own?

Some of them must have been like Earth, rocky, with oceans and mountains, forests and deserts. I wondered what kind of creatures might live there. Were they looking up at their own sky right now, wondering about me, the way I wondered about them? I hope so.

I imagined cities built on alien landscapes, under strangely colored suns. Maybe those civilizations were thriving, untouched by the kind of collapse we had seen. Or maybe they, too, had fallen, their ruins crumbling under skies not unlike mine. What kind of people would be there, if they were people at all? What stories would they tell? What dreams would they have for themselves? And what would they think if they saw our world now, so broken and silent?

The stars flickered above me unchanging. I couldn’t help but feel a strange kinship with them, those distant worlds, those unknown places in the vastness of space. They were unreachable, but in that moment, I felt like I could see them all, like I was a part of something bigger.

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As the night deepened and the fire dimmed, my eyelids grew heavy. The sky remained unchanged, I felt a slow, creeping warmth inside me, despite the cold air. I let my thoughts drift with the stars, floating away. Slowly, with the stars still glittering above me, I let myself fall to sleep.

I woke with a start, my heart pounding, the echo of thunder rumbling in my ears. At first, I thought it was part of a dream, the sound of a distant storm rolling across the mountains, but something about it felt too real, too close. I blinked, groggy, and sat up, my eyes scanning the horizon.

The sky, once clear and full of stars, was now veiled by mostly thick clouds. But there was no storm. No smell of rain. Just the heavy, oppressive air hanging over the landscape, warm and wrong. I furrowed my brow, confused, as another low rumble reached my ears, this time different, I felt too much thermal heat from somewhere and a continuous growl than a thunder from a storm.

Below me, in the valley where the turbines stood silent and still, the ground and the machines were bathed in an eerie light, blue and purple, as if someone had cast a beacon down from the heavens. The light shimmered and danced, casting long, unnatural shadows across the ground. The turbines glowed with the strange hue, their towering forms now looking alien. Fear crawled up my spine. I had never seen anything like it. I turned, my breath quickening, and that’s when I saw it. A massive object burning through the sky, glowing in inhuman hues, trailing flames and debris as it tore through the night’s sky.

It was falling, fast, toward me. I screamed in terror. I fell to the ground supine, covering my head.

The deafening roar that followed made the earth tremble beneath me as it flew over me. instinctively pressing myself flat against the ground, trying to make myself as small as possible. My heart pounded in my chest as the object flew past me, its fiery form lighting up the entire sky in blinding brilliance. The roar of its descent was like a thousand thunderclaps all at once, shaking me to my core.

I screamed again, barely hearing my own voice over the noise.

I watched, helpless, as the craft plummeted into the valley below, slamming into the turbines with a thunderous crash. The sound of metal shearing and collapsing filled the air as turbine after turbine was toppled, their massive forms crumbling under the violent impact.

The ground trembled beneath me, and I could feel the shockwaves in my chest, rattling my bones. For a moment, everything was chaos. Flashes of light, the screech of metal, and the roar of the crash. Then, silence, then the distant crumbling and crackle of fires.

The spacecraft settled in a crater; the once-standing turbines now twisted wreckage around it. The eerie blue and purple lights still flickered across the landscape, but now they seemed more subdued, the afterglow of catastrophe.

I lay there, stunned, my mind racing, trying to process what I had just seen. The world felt surreal, like I was still trapped in some fever dream. But this was no dream. The crash was real. And whatever had just fallen from the sky… was there, in the valley at the foot of a mountain, smoldering, still flickering with strange alien lights.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I just lay there on my stomach, my face pressed against the cold ground, staring at the wreckage below. A craft, a flying object, it was unmistakable now, it was massive, an oval disk shape with gun mounts protruding from its upper side. It looked like something straight out of a nightmare, a predator from the sky that had torn through the valley and come to rest in the crater below. It was dangerous and alien.

The ship’s surface was scorched, its sleek metallic skin marred by violence of its descent. The gun mounts, still intact, jutted out at sharp angles, their barrels silent but menacing. Every inch of it radiates a kind of deadly potential, even in its stillness. I didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. I just stared, transfixed, my mind struggling to process what was in front of me.

The crater it had created was deep, the earth ripped open by the force of the crash. A trail of destruction led back from the crater, the path the ship had carved into the hillside littered with uprooted trees and the remains of toppled turbines. Chunks of metal and debris were scattered everywhere, some still glowing hot, embers in the dark.

Thick black smoke billowed from the ship’s body, rising into the night’s sky in plumes. The smoke carried the sharp, acrid scent of burning ozone, the kind of smell that stung the back of my throat and made my eyes water. It was a smell I experienced in my years working with engines and electrical components on locomotives. The heat from the crash still radiated through the air, even from this distance and making the cold night feel suffocatingly warm.

I watched it, unable to move, every muscle in my body tense and alert. I was waiting. Waiting for something to happen, waiting for whatever was inside that ship to make itself known. But nothing came. The ship remained still, the smoke curling upward, the lights casting long, eerie shadows over the wreckage.

I didn’t dare get up. Not yet. It felt like the ship could spring to life at any moment, like one wrong move would draw its attention, and whatever had brought it here would turn its gaze on me. I stayed there, on the ground, staring at the massive, smoking wreck as my mind raced, trying to make sense of the impossible lying in the valley below me.

The moment passed, and adrenaline kicked in. I scrambled to my feet, my body moving before my mind could catch up. My heart was pounding in my chest, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I had to get out of here! Had to put as much distance between me and that thing as possible.

I turned toward the camp, fumbling in the dark as I grabbed everything within reach. My hands shook as I shoved the sleeping bag, the canteen, and whatever food was left into the storage compartments of the little trailer I towed. Every move felt frantic, rushed, like I was racing against something unseen. I didn’t care about being neat or careful; I just needed to go. Now.

I threw myself onto the four-wheeler, slamming the key into the ignition, my fingers slipping from the sweat and panic. As I twisted the key, the engine let out a weak whine, sputtering like it didn’t want to wake up.

"Come on, start..." I muttered; my voice tight with fear. "Please, God, start the engine."

The whine continued, the engine struggling to turn over. Every second felt like a lifetime. My hands gripped the handlebars tightly, knuckles white as I pressed the pedal under my foot in desperation. Come on! The engine finally started…

And then a light touched the corner of my vision. A soft, unearthly glow, bathing the campsite in a gentle blue hue. It wasn’t like the lights from the crash before. This was something different, something… beautiful. I looked and that was a mistake.

The crash site below was bathed in strange, ethereal light. Blue, soft and inviting, like the kind of light that makes you feel safe and at ease. It touched everything, the wreckage, the turbines, the ground transforming it into something out of a dream. The flames from the crash were still there, but they were dim, as though muted by this otherworldly glow. I blinked, my panic slipping away, replaced by awe. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

The light swirled in patterns, delicate and intricate, casting long shadows that moved with a rhythm of their own. The colors shifted, blending blues and purples, creating shapes that danced through the valley like living things. It was hypnotic. Mesmerizing. I couldn’t tear my gaze away. My body had locked up, and I sat there on the four-wheeler, engine whining beneath me, eyes locked onto the scene below.

I should’ve been terrified. I should’ve been running. But I wasn’t. The light made me into a greater me, wrapping itself around my mind, pulling me in. And all I could do was stare.

My body relaxed, every muscle loosening as if the tension had never existed. The panic that had gripped me moments ago dissolved into nothing, replaced by a calm so deep, so complete, it felt almost unnatural. My hands, which had been clenched tight on the handlebars, eased their grip. I exhaled slowly, feeling a strange sense of contentment wash over me, as though nothing in the world could possibly harm me.

But deep inside, something was wrong.

This isn’t right.

I could feel that thought in the back of my mind, a flicker of panic trying to claw its way up again, but it was distant, like an echo of my own thoughts. I should be terrified. I should be driving this four-wheeler as far away from that crash as possible and yet here I was… calm. Too calm.

I blinked, trying to shake off the feeling, but the light, the beautiful, swirling light from the crash site was still there, filling my vision with its soft glow, its lovely patterns. It felt… good… to look at it. Comforting. My body wanted to move toward it. I wanted to move toward it.

No. I need to get out of here!

The voice in my head, my own voice, was weak, fading. But the pull of the light was stronger. It made everything else seem unimportant, trivial even. Why run? It seemed to ask, as if whispering through my thoughts. There’s nothing to fear. It’s beautiful. “I want you.”

No! This isn’t… what I want! This is not what I want!

I fought back, my mind racing to break free, but with each passing second, the grip of the light grew stronger. My thoughts, my own thoughts started to shift, twisting into something else, something not entirely mine. I felt inverted.

You should see it up close. The thought wasn’t mine. There’s no harm in going down there. It’s just light. Just beauty. You’re not in danger. You need to understand, to see it all up close.

The four-wheeler's engine hummed under me, waiting for direction. My hand trembled on the handlebars, caught between fleeing and giving in. Why not see? The thought whispered again, more insistently this time. You’re already here. Go down the hill. It’s not steep. You can come back if it’s too much. You’ll be safe.

I need to leave. I need to go.

My mind, my real self, pushed back again. But it was weaker now, barely a whisper.

You’ve come this far, Max. What’s a little closer? The thought made sense, didn’t it? After all, I’d survived this much. The hill isn’t that steep. I looked ahead. It wasn’t. The slope was gradual, not dangerous at all. The four-wheeler could handle it easily. And the crash? It might be important. Maybe there’s something I need to see. Yes, that seemed reasonable. Maybe there’s something there for me. Answers or something more.

I blinked again, the light pulling at my gaze, filling my mind with peace and contentment. Yes, I thought, now fully believing the words. I should go. There’s no harm in getting a closer look. Just for a minute. Then I can leave.

My body moved on its own. I felt no more fear, no more panic. Only certainty. As the four-wheeler lurched forward, I pointed it down the hill, the slope gentle beneath the tires. My eyes locked onto the glowing, swirling light at the crash site. It was so beautiful, so calming. I just need to see it up close.

I drove down, my mind drifting, no longer fighting. There’s no harm in this, I told myself again, the words flowing through my mind like a mantra. There’s no harm in this at all. I want to see it, up close, yes. That is what I want.

The closer I got to the crash site, the stronger the light became. It wasn’t just in the air around me anymore, it was in my mind, wrapping itself tighter and tighter, gripping my thoughts with an unshakable need to see. The fear was gone, replaced by awe.

All I could see was the beauty of the spacecraft, the glow illuminating it like a precious jewel resting in a bed of wreckage. The blue and purple light played off its metallic surface, making it shimmer, casting strange reflection patterns of nearby objects, the crumpled turbines and scorched earth.

The ship was breathtaking, even in its ruined state. Its oval shape gleamed under the strange light, sleek and otherworldly, gun mounts still protruding from its sides like the claws of some great beast. I felt a pull to get closer, to touch it, to feel the cool metal beneath my fingertips.

The four-wheeler rumbled to a stop just a few feet away. I climbed off without hesitation, my movements slow, deliberate. The ground was still warm beneath my boots, and the air smelled of burning ozone and smoke. I barely noticed. My eyes were locked on the ship, on the strange, hypnotic light that seemed to emanate from it.

I took a few steps forward, drawn to the ship like a moth to a flame. As I reached out to touch its surface, a sharp hiss of air broke the silence. The cockpit, concealed by a hidden seam in the metal, slid open with a low mechanical groan.

Inside, control consoles blinked weakly, casting faint reflections off the glass. But what caught my eye was the figure slumped over the controls, its gray skin gleaming dully under the blue light. The alien was small, its body battered and broken, with a terrible wound along its side, where a jagged piece of metal debris had pierced it.

I stared at it, unblinking, my mind still under complete control of whatever force had me in its grip. There was no fear, no hesitation, only the desire to obey. The alien’s eyes were wide and dark green, deep with emotions I didn’t expect to see. Pain and regret filled those wide alien eyes as they turned to me, regarding me with wide soulful black eyes the reflected the stars above.

"Approach me."

The voice echoed in my mind, not spoken aloud but felt, a command that rippled through my body, leaving me no choice but to obey. My legs moved on their own, carrying me forward until I stood beside the open cockpit, staring down at the creature. The alien’s breath came in shallow gasps, its hand clutching its side where dark blood oozed slowly from the wound.

The alien’s eyes locked onto mine, and for the first time, I saw something deeper, sorrow. "You will hate me for this," it said, its voice heavy with resignation. "I know it as well as I know that I will die here for this crime."

I said nothing. I couldn’t. My body was no longer mine to control.

"Human," the alien continued, and the sound jolted something deep within me, though I was powerless to react. "Fate has chosen you to be the last hope of your people. If your people fall, I believe no other species will stop them. It is your duty, and I give you no choice."

It raised its hand, and a small syringe appeared in its three-fingers, filled with a liquid that shimmered like mercury silver. I, unable to resist, as the alien beckoned me closer. My feet moved again, carrying me toward the edge of the cockpit.

The alien’s eyes darkened further, its expression one of utter regret, as the alien performed the act. It seemed determined, almost as if it believed it was destined to complete a task that it knew was wrong. With a swift motion, the alien’s hand tore open my shirt and then the other hand plunged the syringe into an exposed area on my chest.

White-hot pain exploded through me, and for the first time since the crash, I regained a sliver of control just enough to scream. The force of the pain knocked me back, my body collapsing to the ground as whatever it had injected surged through me like fire. I writhed in agony, my vision blurring, my mind teetering on the edge of oblivion as my body burned from the inside out. The alien’s voice was faint in the distance, echoing through the chaos in my head.

"I’m sorry."

The pain in my chest was unbearable, burning through my veins like molten liquid flame, but somehow, I managed to claw my way back to some form of consciousness. My body, though still not fully my own, had stopped writhing. I lay there, gasping, my heart pounding, as I looked up at the alien from the ground. It hunched over the rim of the cockpit looking at me.

Its eyes were locked onto mine, wide, dark green, full of guilt and something else. Desperation. More of its dark blood foamed at the edges of its mouth, falling in thick drops onto the earth below. Each drop sizzled as it hit the ground, burning into the soil with an eerie hiss. I felt something primal grip me. A terror that was just beginning to form as the control it had over me started to weaken.

We just stared at each other for a long, terrible moment. I wanted to move, to run, to scream and curse. I was still trapped in that invisible force, half-obedient, half in shock. Then, the alien spoke, its voice, humanlike, breaking through the haze in my mind.

"Flee." It whispered.

The spoken word sent another jolt through me, but I still couldn’t move. Something deep in the alien’s voice had changed. The calm was gone, replaced by a rising panic. The alien’s gaze shifted, and its voice became more urgent, more frantic.

"They will come. Flee, human. The enemy will be here soon... Flee!"

Suddenly, terror gripped me like a vice, not my own, artificial, surging through me, a tidal wave flood of adrenaline. It coursed through my muscles, tightening every fiber of my body, forcing me to my feet.

The alien’s voice echoed in my head; the tone now filled with absolute panic. "Run! Hide! Find safety! Run for your life!"

I didn’t need to be told again. My body acted on instinct, adrenaline driving me like a whip crack. Without thinking, I scrambled to my feet and staggered toward the four-wheeler, my mind still struggling to catch up. The mountains! The hideout! That’s where I needed to go. I needed to get to safety.

The moment I reached the four-wheeler, I leapt onto it, my hands barely gripping the handlebars as I twisted the key. The engine roared to life, the sound deafening in the chaos around me. The alien’s voice was still in my head, screaming at me to move faster, to flee, to get as far away as I could.

Without another thought, I slammed on the accelerator, the four-wheeler lurching forward as I tore up the hillside, my body moving with a reckless energy I didn’t know I had. The vehicle surged forward, bouncing over the rough terrain, kicking up dust and rocks as it sped toward the mountains. I didn’t care how rough the ride was, I just needed to get away! Flee! Hide! They are coming!

The fear was too overwhelming. The mountain loomed ahead, dark and jagged, the peak barely visible against the night sky. I could see the path ahead and fleeing is what I needed to do. I need to get to the hideout. That’s where I’d be safe. I drove faster than I ever thought possible, weaving recklessly around boulders and fallen trees, my mind focused on one thing: escape.

The alien’s voice, now faint and fading, repeated one last time in my head.

"Survive…"

After a time and from behind me, the wreckage of the spacecraft was engulfed suddenly in an inferno. Fire blossomed around the wreck, the blinding flames licking at the sky, fueled by whatever remained in the ship. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I activated the tablet mounted to the dashboard, seeing my position.

I drove like a man possessed, unaware of the new strength surging through me, an alien technology, now part of me, pushing me further, faster, higher into the mountains. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t because I was possessed. I didn’t know it yet.

General Commander Xor watched the human disappear into the darkness, the four-wheeler’s distant hum fading as it climbed higher and higher up the mountain. Even from this distance, Xor could see the subtle changes in human’s movements. The technology was already working. Though he, likely unaware, was navigating the treacherous terrain with a precision and ease that would have been impossible for a normal human. His eyes, now aided by the initial enhancements, saw through the dark, picking out details, avoiding obstacles, driving him forward with an urgency born not just of fear but of something more.

Xor blinked slowly, the pain in his side flaring with each shallow breath. His once-gray skin was now white and slick with his dark blood. The wound deep and mortal, as he had known it would be. The notification of his failing life signs blinked incessantly in his vision, red warnings flashing within his mind’s eye. Each beep was another reminder of the inevitable, but he had accepted this fate.

This was how it had to be. All plans were now in a state of unfortunate circumstances.

Xor turned his gaze skyward, the stars above twinkling faintly through the smoke and haze of the burning wreckage. He had done what he came here to do. It was all in the hands of a human now, and of the technology now coursing through his veins.

That human was no longer just one man. He was the culmination of Xor’s final, desperate gamble. The last hope for a species that, though flawed, had the potential to become exactly what they needed to be: warriors. Fighters capable of standing against the coming storm. It had all been by chance that this had happened.

But whether the humans would succeed or fail, Xor would not know. This moment was the final play of his plans even if not ideal and it was after fifty-two years of unremitting effort. And as always, in war, an unplanned variable event had derailed all his designs and plans. A fallacy of his species, too much planning, caution and assumptions.

Xor’s breath hitched, and another wave of pain surged through his body. His blood hissed as it dripped onto the scorched ground, evaporating into the air. Xor knew he had no more time. He would not allow the enemy to gather intelligence from his corpse or readings from the computers on his ship.

Reaching for a device in his jumpsuit, Xor pressed a button, mentally queuing for the final commands with his onboard augments. His vision blurred, his failing body struggling to keep up with the demands of his mind.

"Good luck, human," Xor said in English, his voice barely a whisper as it escaped his lips.

Xor gazed at his internal augments, his eyes closed, the countdown began. The termination program had been activated. The final moments of his existence ticking away. “Self-destruct activated… 10… 9…” Muting all the notifications, Commander Xor opened his eyes, his vision filled with the vast expanse of stars above him. They shimmered faintly in the night, distant and untouchable. It was a peaceful sight, the last thing he would see.

A blinding flash of searing light exploded within the cockpit, heat, and for a split second, Xor felt the intense heat engulf him. Flames erupted around him, consuming the shattered remains of the spacecraft. The fire tore through the cockpit, melting the control consoles and turning the sleek alien technology into molten wreckage.

The onboard computers, vital systems that had once guided him across the stars, were reduced to nothing in an instant. Xor’s body seared and melted instantly, his once alive form collapsing into itself as the heat combusted his tissues. His last painless sensation was the feeling of his body becoming one with the fire.

And then, silence.

The ship’s lights blinked out; the humming systems that had once powered the craft failed completely. The wreckage, now a smoldering glowing and burning ruin, sat lifeless in the valley. The flames crackled softly, but even they began to fade, leaving only embers and glowing metal behind. Inside the cockpit, all that remained of the Alien were ashes, still smoldering in silence. Unrecognizable, his presence erased from the world.

The wind arrived, whispering through the valley, the turbines, the few that still stood, began to creak and turn once again. Their long blades groaned as they caught the night’s breeze, slowly spinning as though in acknowledgment of what had just occurred. Flames crackled.

And in that wind, the ashes were lifted amongst the flames, swirling gently into the air. They were carried up, higher and higher, rising into the star-filled sky. The remnants were scattered across the night, joining the stars once gazed upon in final moments. Now, only dust upon the Earthly wind forevermore.