The days stretched, and Al isolated himself from the outside world. His absence from school raised concerns among his teachers and classmates, but no one could reach him.

Al's mother, desperate to see her son emerge from his seclusion, could not wait any longer. She tried everything she could think of to coax him out. She prepared his favorite meals, a spread of comforting traditional Italian dishes. She laid them out on the dinner table, hoping the aroma and familiarity would entice him to join them.

However, Al showed no response, remaining locked away in his room.

Linda was not the type to let food go to waste. She packed the untouched meals for John to take to work.

Even John occupied with his work and the legal matters surrounding the disappearances, tried to reach out to his son. He knocked on Al's door, attempting to engage in conversation and offer support, but he was only met with silence.

Al's mother, growing increasingly worried, even attempted to remove him from his room physically, but he proved too heavy for her. It was as if a thick barrier had formed around him, isolating him from the outside world.

The days continued, and Al remained secluded, lost in his thoughts.

"I want to tell them everything, but they wouldn't believe me..." he said to himself for the hundredth time.

His stomach churned. The mere thought of food made him nauseous, especially meat.

The memory of Mark's mutilated face haunted him, filling his mind with gruesome scenes that replayed over and over. Sleep brought no relief. His mind would become a battleground of memories and nightmares as darkness fell.

As news of the vanishings continued, they reached Al's School and received word that one of their alumni, Mark, had vanished. Al's classes were soon suspended, and he remained confined to his room, unaware.

His world had shrunk to his thoughts, consumed by the events behind Mark's actual disappearance.

In the wake of the vanishings, the world was thrown into a state of chaos and confusion. The event's magnitude prompted swift action from global competing nations. Enemy nations quickly allied to stop their governing systems from collapsing. An emergency meeting took place to address the unprecedented loss of human life and, more importantly, the manpower needed to run a nation.

While some religious leaders saw the vanishings as a manifestation of their own God or Planetary will, others embraced the idea of a collective spiritual tribulation, a shift in the homeostasis of the collective.

Fueled by paranoia and skepticism, small sections of the population began to speculate a depopulation attempt by globalist organizations. These individuals questioned all and any official narrative shared by their governing powers.

Some weeks later, Al came out of his room. He even managed to eat half a plate of his mother's cooking.

Life continued to move forward around him, and his father's work demanded even more of his time. As the world grappled with the aftermath of the vanishings, his profession faced an influx of work.

A particular group of sick individuals took advantage of the catastrophe that fell on humanity, using the vanishing to get away.

Al began speaking to his mom again at home but only discussing trivial matters. Returning to his room, Al closed the door behind him, shutting himself off from the outside world. One thing repeatedly resurfaced in his mind, "Immortality? Could such a thing really be possible?"

The bags underneath his eyes diminished his youthfulness. After the school announced there would be no graduation ceremony, Al spent most of his days running and training despite getting almost no sleep or rest.

At the age of 16, he became a Golden Gloves champion, honing his skills in the boxing ring. After that, he stepped away from competing. However, his training remained a constant presence, serving as a therapeutic outlet for his restless body and weary soul.

"My dad's a pretty sensible man. Maybe he might believe me," Al thought, showering after going for a run. He was waiting for a time when his father wasn't inundated with work.

Despite barely seeing his son, John was glad Al was finding comfort in the same sport he did when he was younger.

Meanwhile, Linda urged John to convince Al to consider professional help, such as a therapist.

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At night, Linda began attending packed church masses with Johns's parents to hear a priest speak of how "God" would keep them safe from the vanishings.

Al began meditating in the mornings, holding a metal emblem with a blue jewel embedded in it. He had tried many times to do as Godfrey had advised, but nothing happened.

"I've never been much of a meditation type. Am I just supposed to get lost in thought?" Al asked himself, looking at the metal emblem in his hands.

John entered Al's room, stopping at the door to look at him oddly before entering. Al quickly stood up, hiding the emblem with an awkward expression on his face.

"Your mom won't leave the church, and now you, Al, are you a Buddhist now?" Al was about to dismiss his father's question jokingly but instead fell silent. After a few seconds, Al asked, "Hey, Dad, if I told you something unbelievable, would you believe me?" his voice shaky.

John gently smiled at his son, "Of course!" he replied.

Al took a deep breath before telling his father everything that had occurred with Mark's disappearance, about the demonic sheep and how his arm had broken and was instantly healed.

He even showed him the metal emblem with the blue jewel.

By the end, Al felt a huge weight lifted from him. He looked towards his dad with hopeful eyes, anticipating a response that could help clear everything up. John held the metal emblem quietly, listening intently to his son.

His response was an exasperated sigh. "Look, Al, I'm not saying I don't believe you. I do believe you saw what you said you saw. I believe you."

John scratched his well-shaven face and cleared his throat. His son seemed to have aged years before his eyes.

John awkwardly smiled, "Some accidents are so traumatic and unexplainable that the mind tries to make sense of them by recreating the events in a way we can accept. Sometimes, that results in fantastical stories. Although I can't explain this jewelry, I'm sure a professional could."

Halfway through hearing his father speak, Al felt a better drink going down his throat as he absorbed his dad's words.

After noticing the worsening change in Al's expression, John recalled how Linda suggested they see a grief counselor. "You know, your mom has been considering the idea of having us see some sort of medical professional," John recommended.

Al felt his heart sink even more. The only person he thought would believe him thought he had imagined the whole ordeal. Quietly, he had to listen to his father as he continued to talk about the advancements in mental health practices.

"I knew no one would ever believe me. If only I could show them some proof... If only there were a way to show them what happened." Al thought while his father finished speaking, seemingly waiting for a response.

Assuming his dad had asked if he wanted to seek counseling. Al kindly replied, "No, Dad, I'm fine. Maybe you're right, and I just wanted to believe that Mark didn't simply vanish."

Inwardly, Al sighed. "I was too naive to think anyone would believe me," he admitted.

John returned the metal emblem to Al and left the room. Nothing had gone as Al had hoped, but one thing became clear. "I have to show them undeniable evidence!" he affirmed.

His training was the only thing keeping him together despite feeling utterly exhausted.

A few days after the conversation with his father, Al was midway through a morning run when suddenly his mind began to fill with clarity as he gazed at the rising morning sun.

As the sun's rays illuminated the surroundings, Al felt like the sun was breathing life into the trees and plants around him. An idea that seemed ridiculous formed in Al's mind, yet he felt compelled to try it. After looking around, Al spotted a nice open patch of grass and changed his direction toward it.

He swiftly retrieved the emblem from his pocket and slowed down, settling in a grassy field facing the ascending sun.

Lost in thought, Al assumed his usual position with crossed legs, just as he had done numerous times in the preceding days. "Godfrey said to meditate on it, and I would be told where to go. I have no idea what that will look like, but I have meditated with it for sure, and still, I have no clue or even a hint. I guess our ideas on meditation are just not the same."

This time, however, he didn't direct his mind's eye towards the emblem in his hands. Instead, he imagined the sun breathing life into the plants and then breathing life into the world, into the metal emblem. He then superimposed himself as the sun he had formed in his mind.

Gradually, a tingling sensation emerged from his hands. "Aaaaghh!" Al shouted, releasing the emblem in alarm. "What the hell was that? It went from a tingling sensation to a burning shock."

Al examined his palms, expecting to see burnt flesh, but to his surprise, his hands were unharmed. As he stood up to retrieve the emblem he tossed away like a hot coal, something halted his motion midway.

It felt as though something was taking shape within his mind—a thought that did not originate from his own mind was forming so blatantly. Al was shocked as the image became as vivid as his most cherished memories. It was a map of a mountain.

Al and his family were from Santa Rosa, California, in the wine country. "I know this mountain. I can't recall the name, but I know it," he murmured. Al retrieved the emblem and walked back home instead of completing his run.

"I can't believe it worked," he marveled. "All I have to do now is return home and search nearby mountains and compare them to the image in my mind. Perhaps I could convince my dad to meditate using the emblem like I did."

Al shook his head, dismissing the thought. He knew that the evidence he needed had to be irrefutable. Putting the emblem away, he started walking, and memories of Mark soon resurfaced in his mind.

A painful realization began to settle in Al's mind, casting a shadow on his reality. "It's... it's just not right," he murmured, his outward demeanor appearing calm while he battled with a pain he couldn't even begin to comprehend.