(Solmonath 28, 56 / 10:40PM)

In the barely empty road in the middle of the forest-tundra, was a large bus filled with male teens loud and content as they all got together, their laughs and shouts crossing through the outer layers of the bus’s interiors.

(Football Member #1) Yo Miles! Remember that crazy pass you did to Smith? I thought you were about to fumble that throw!

(Football Member #2) Hey, don’t forget me, man! Remember that last touchdown that I did!? Sold us the game!

(Football Member #3) That’s because Miles passed it to you! Yo, I didn’t expect we would win!

Their faces lit up in the dark of the night. Continuing to raise their arms in the air, they all joked and put their hands on their stomachs.

Even the old senior bus driver had a calm smile on his face, his eyes focused on the road ahead as he rubbed his right hand with his chin. Turning towards the coach that was a seat behind him, he only glanced at him before he had his eyes back on the road.

The coach swiped away his balding hair with his right hand, and some hair got stuck onto his sweaty palms as he swiped it away. His ears were bombarded with the loudness of his students, the coach had his hands on his thighs as he only smirked to himself.

(Bus driver) Can’t believe those boys did it. Never thought those meatheads were able to pull it off.

(Coach) That’s pretty rare coming from you John. You don’t seem to be the happy type.

(Bus driver) That’s because I get paid pennies and nickels to drive people that require dimes and quarters. But in this case, I don’t mind the pennies.

The bus driver looked around the woods and trees that were vastly dark, his low beams not able to penetrate the surrounding darkness. Pushing the high beams button with his left hand, the headlights of the bus shone brighter than before, the visibility in front of him much better.

Opening his mouth as a yawn approached him, he placed his right hand as he covered his mouth, his left hand still holding onto the wheel as his eyes glanced at the coach again.

The coach started to yawn too as he placed his hand to cover his mouth.

(Bus driver) For a fancy celebration, why would you all want to meet up at the diner on the outskirts of town? It’s pretty late.

(Coach) The diner is willing to accommodate all of us there. The owner is a big fan of ours so he’s willing to go all out with us.

(Bus driver) Hmm … but don’t you think these woods look different to you?

The bus driver put his right hand on his cheek, scratching the little hairs that he had as he focused his eyes on every tree he passed through. His left hand gripped the wheel as a slight chill ran through his back.

The coach also looked around the trees, noticing an unholy vibe to them, his entire body feeling cold as the thought came to him. Swiping away his head, he put his hand onto the bus driver’s shoulder, gripping it softly.

(Coach) Don’t worry, John. What can go wrong at a diner?

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(Solmonath 28, 56 / 11:01PM)

(Coach) It’s all you can eat boys! You guys deserve it!

The sounds of many male teens eating a late-night dinner can be heard across the room, with forks and spoons clicking on the many white plates.

Seeing that the football players were enjoying their late-night meals, the coach stood up on the table, making sure everyone was giving him his attention. Per usual, all the players on the team looked up at the overweight man wobbling on the table, his breathing hard and raspy with his back straightening up at the male teens.

(Coach) I want to make an announcement. I didn’t want to tell you boys this, but this year is my last year of coaching football!

Many of the football players started to sigh as they heard the announcement. The quarterback Miles, who was a couple of feet away sitting near the table that the coach was on, looked down at his plate.

His face darkened as his right hand that held his fork started to tighten, the metal of it creaking with his fingertips failing to dig themselves into it. Completely saturated with the white plate in front of him, he saw his reflection within himself, the whiteness of the plate causing Miles to push down his eyes.

(Miles’s thoughts) I guess his dream is finally completed huh…

Backing down from the table, the coach managed to land his feet back on the ground. Turning his head towards Miles, the coach slowly walked his way to the sitting Miles, putting his hands in his pants pockets as he stood right next to him.

Miles looked up from the plate that he was focusing on, his entire head turning right towards the coach as his whole body started to feel sluggish.

(Coach) Don’t get so stressed Miles. I’ve been doing this for 30 years so it’s about time I settle down.

(Miles) But what about the next year of players?

(Coach) By then, you’ll be already graduating, son. Look, Miles…

The coach put his right hand on Miles’s left shoulder, gripping it firmly as his breathing started to slow down. Sensing the tightness of the coach’s grip, he turned his full head towards the coach, dark eyebags settling beneath his eyes.

Everyone continued to eat and dine at the late night dinner, their mouths full of steak and mashed potatoes and their bodies content to the heater circling, creating a warm cozy restaurant.

(Coach) Football isn’t the end. Try to do more things in life than just one thing. In my 30 years, I’ve seen many men like you being a star on the field and being a nobody in the real world.

(Miles) But what about you Coach?

The coach let go of Miles’s shoulder, placing it back inside his pants pocket. Letting out a heavy sigh from his chest, the coach let out a warm smile as he used his pointer finger to place it near his head.

Pointing it right at his temple, he remained in that position, as Miles’s eyes widened and his feet glued to the wooden floor.

(Coach) I found the best of both worlds.

(Diner Owner) Everyone! … pants … Everyone!

Barging out of the kitchen door was the diner owner, his face frantic and pale as he looked around the diner hall. Having a radio box in his hands, he looked over towards the coach, running to him as his legs pushed him off the wooden floor.

Reaching towards the coach, the bar owner bent down as his breath was out of place, his lungs piercing his chest as he couldn’t talk straight. The coach, having both of his hands on the bar owner’s shoulders, tilted his head.

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(Diner Owner) L-L… L-Liste…

(Coach) What?

(Diner Owner) Listen…

The Diner owner moved the knob of the radio set clockwise, trying to find a frequency that he last heard of. While doing so, the diner owner placed the radio box onto the table, the wooden table creaking as the box continued to emit static out of its little metal speaker.

All the football team members stopped their chewing as they looked towards the commotion unfolding with the radio, their legs tapping the floor as their ears perked up.

And at long last, a frequency was being played.

(???) If you’re hearing this, then this message is being broadcast on all frequencies across all of Kepputha. If you heard this several hours ago, then you’ve probably heard this in all frequencies in Ticia.

(Coach) President Reed?

(Miles’s thoughts) What’s going on?

Everyone slowly walked towards the radio box, their ears perking up as the frequency continued to be played. The bar owner continued to heave his chest hard, his breathing irregular as he wiped away a cold sweat from his forehead.

Not only was the bar owner the most nervous wreck in the room, but many other teens were shaking their hands as if their hands were freezing, their fingers tapping the hardwood tables. Miles in question stood right next to the coach, his eyes peering into the black radio box with his hands in his pockets.

(President Reed) Several hours prior. The world we know has undeniably changed. At around 4 PM, the nation of Ticia was deliberately attacked by unknown forces, collapsing the entire nation in just a couple of hours.

(Miles’s thoughts) What?

Everyone around the room went dead silent, their mouths closing shut as their eyes focused heavily on the radio at hand. Not even moving a muscle, everyone’s feet were glued on where they sat or stood.

The coach took a step back as his throat started to convulse with his breathing. As for Miles, a bead of sweat rolled down his right cheek, the droplet dripping onto the old wooden floor.

(President Reed) As President of the great nation of Kepputha, I hereby declare to fully militarize the entire nation of Kepputha into total lockdown. The other countries such as Haxouburg and Aizzonia will follow suit.

(Coach) Ticia attacked? Just what in the hell is going on?!

(Diner Owner) I heard that they're mythical creatures! And, if you get killed by one, you’ll become one too!

Everyone started to sweat coldly as their bodies began to shiver under the announcement of their president. With many murmurs and whispers roaming across the warm room, the coach looked his head towards his players rubbing their arms with their hands.

Miles, one of the few people who were sitting, started to turn his face to a ghostly pale as he clasped his hands together.

(Miles’s thoughts) Would we be invaded too?

(Coach) I don’t think there’s anything to fear.

All the teens and even the bar owner looked at the coach with their heads tilted to the side, their eyes squinting at him glaringly. Putting his hand on his chest, he cleared his throat as his fingertips started to slowly dig into his chest, his eyes glancing at everyone around him.

(Coach) The president said the invasion was several hours prior right? That would mean they only attacked Ticia for something, so it doesn’t mean that they’ll just ambush Kepputha with ease—

An explosion rocked the entire diner, sending all the football players and adults flying across all directions of the diner hall.

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His ears didn’t receive any noise.

(Miles’s thoughts) What…

His ears ringing with the heavy sounds of tinnitus, he couldn’t tell if everything was a deafening silence or a tranquil boom.

Combined with his body not responding to his barely conscious thoughts, he lay on the wooden ground as the wooden debris blanketed the back of his head. Not able to turn his head, his eyes did most of the looking as he moved his eyeballs to the left of him, straining them as he noticed a figure in his vision.

(Miles’s thoughts) Get up…

His arms and legs remained motionless on the ground, his neck stiff and brittle as he tried to move it. His breathing returned slowly, the ringing in his ears stopped as he saw from the corner of his left eye.

(Miles) C-C-C.

His throat jumped with each consonant, the words that wanted to come out being detained by his vocals, causing him to widen his eyes more. Slowly moving his head, he fought through the pain as his neck started to constrain against itself, pushing his muscles to the limits as it fought against him.

His eyes started to turn red, tears began to form inside of his eyelids, and his hands still held onto the wooden panels of the now-destroyed diner.

(Miles) C-Co-Coa.

Still lying on the wooden shard floor as he pushed his body to move upward out of the ground, his muscles slowly entangled within each other, the blood in his body causing him to twitch on his own.

Ignoring the broken tables and walls that were letting in the darkness of the night, his eyes only saw one thing in them. A particular figure, a figure that is overweight and in his mid-50s, lay resting on the debris of fallen woods and stone, snuggly napping as Miles…

(Miles) Coach!

Miles pushed himself off of the ground in an instant. Sprinting a couple of steps towards the coach, Miles’s breathing started to swelter.

A river of blood flowed from the back of the man’s head. He shook his head as he crouched down near the bleeding man, placing both of his smooth palms onto the coach’s back

(Miles) No… no … what’s happening coach? Coach?!

A couple of tears started to roll down both of his cheeks, Miles clenched his stomach and chest up, his breathing turning into a rapid motion with his chest going up and down in an erratic pattern.

Seeing that the coach’s lifeless face turning pale, with his body unable to respond to the tugs, Miles started to curl his fingers deeply, trying to dig themselves into the old man. In the hope that he did come up, Miles would’ve got him to come with him, even bringing in any other members that were still alive or breathing.

But then he heard something behind him, the sound of a person jumping on hardwood.

(Miles) Who’s there—

Miles saw a man who was several years older than him, the man wearing a sports cap and a white tuxedo jacket, followed by the man’s dress white shoes and pants.

The man stood up straight with his chest, stomach, legs, and feet all pointing towards him. Not able to hear the man’s breathing, Miles instead saw the soulless stare that the man gave Miles, his body continuing to remain stiff.

(???) You have three options.

The man dressed in white extended his hand towards Miles. His right hand closed itself onto a hard grip, the knuckles of the dark-skinned man stuck out like sore thumbs, his sturdy hands being mostly clothed by white gloves.

Followed by his mouth and entire face being enclosed in a mask, with his eyes the only thing that sprouted out. With his eyes being the only thing that he could see from the man’s features, Miles stared at them as if he were trying to decode it somehow.

(???) One, you can join us in our conquest for salvation. Two, you can cower and run away like an idiot. Or three…

The man’s right hand deathly gripped a weird object in his hand and started to slowly open it, the object being visible to the eyes of Miles. His mouth opened wide as his jaw continued to drop down, Miles let out a tear roll down his right cheek.

(???) You can fight us, and die by your own hands.

The white-masked man threw the object at Miles, his hands not being able to catch the metallic object as it headed against his face. His hands not even flinching to protect him, he only looked dumbfounded as he looked down to see the metal object that landed right underneath his crotch.

And in that object, was his mother’s necklace, covered in pink blood.

(???) Your choice Miles.

Miles only spoke in weird gasps and mumbles underneath his breath, the words that wanted to come out of him not being able to as hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

His hands not wanting to pick up his mother’s necklace, the necklace that had a cross that resembled his family’s religion, his hands shivered from the sight of the necklace, his head swaying softly at—

(Coach) Run Miles…

Standing from behind him, was a familiar voice that caused his head to turn rapidly to his right. Seeing his coach breathing heavily, his throat gasping for more air as his lungs, the coach wiped away an abundance of blood from the back of his head.

Miles only sat down on the debris-ridden floor with his palms twirling with the sharp wooden shards that resembled rigid shields.

(Coach) Get your … mother’s necklace out of here … Your mother … said it’s important to her.

Miles’s body began to shake as the coach, on the verge of collapsing onto himself, continued to steady his feet on the hardwood. His eyes focusing on the white-masked man, he put his right hand into his pants pockets, pulling out another metallic object from within him.

(Coach) Take this too…

Hearing the dangling of metal coming from the coach’s palm, Miles let go of his hands that were holding onto the floor, bringing them up as he saw a long silver metal sticking out from the object.

The coach threw him the object or rather…

(Miles’s thoughts) Bus Keys…?

Miles caught it wide open as his eyes continued to enlarge at the scenario taking place. With one last look to the coach, the coach turned his entire head towards the male teen, a sigh of relief letting out of his already emptied lungs.

(Coach) And get out of here to be the best man you could be.

As if his words lit a spark in him, a spark of electricity roaming through his despairing body, Miles jumped up from the wooden floor.

Making his escape, as well as taking his mother’s necklace with his right hand, Miles moved through the many bodies that lay bare underneath the wood scraps and debris. Not looking back, Miles continued to sprint as he made his way out into the open woods on a mendicant night, seeing the bus still intact despite the restaurant being torn open.

The coach turned his head back one last time, his left hand pulling out a military revolver from his jacket.

(Coach’s thoughts) I wonder how my son is doing, I guess he was promoted to Sergeant the last time I talked to him.

As a fight ensues in the badly damaged restaurant, with its wooden entrance and center being obliterated by a blast of some explosion of some sort, Miles entered his way into the bus. Making his way into the driver seat, Miles pushed the key into the ignition, turning it to put the engine running.

Having his grip on the steering wheel, Miles turned his head towards where his hometown was, his hometown emitting an orange color on the skyline…

(Miles’s thoughts) W-What… why is …

As if the town was on fire.

(The coach in Miles’s thoughts) Don’t look back.

The engine running, Miles put his foot on the gas pedal and headed east as he drove into the dark woods in the dead of night. The wheels aligned themselves to the empty country road, and his breathing continued to hitch within himself, not bothering to look at what was behind.

As if he wasn’t looking back.