I’m at the SLC public library because they have free internet and they give out meals to homeless people. Being homeless, and needing to look something up, that works out perfectly for me.

It doesn't take long to find the person I’m looking for. After scanning through recent tragic story after recent tragic story on a number of Salt Lake’s local news feeds and blogs, I find a headline that rings a bell: SLC nurse loses a hand while helping as a first responder in the aftermath of the impact.

“Kathryn Doberson,” I say, clicking on a picture of her being carried away on a stretcher, the stadium looming in the background.

“Where does she live?” says Xeno.

“I’m not going to her home, that’s just creepy. And shush, keep your voice down.”

“We’re far past caring about being creepy, Jack, I mean you have a vagina shaped alien mouth speaking to you from your hand right now. Let’s just be real.”

I open my mouth to respond but end up just cringing and shrugging in agreement instead.

“Okay, says here that she was discharged to a specialized rehabilitation center in Provo Utah for recovery. That’s forty minutes south of here.” I pull up Google maps. “Okay, yep, I know where that is.” I grab my half eaten bagel and hot cocoa and stand up.

“Wait,” says Xeno.

“What?”

“You have to send some of these people before you go, Jack.”

I look around the library. There are a lot of people. Most of them are lazily perusing the shelves.

“I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself,” I say. “I start sending people to Paradise in the open and I’ll get swarmed. Or … shot, I don’t know.”

“Fine. It’s your species, not mine.”

I bite my lip, let out a breath. “Okay, no, you’re right.”

I scarf down my breakfast then walk over to the nonfiction section. A tall woman in her twenties is scanning through a landscape photography book.

I look left, then right. We’re all alone.

“Hi, excuse me,” I say. “Can I borrow that book real quick?”

“Uh,” she says. “This one?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Just real fast. Looks heavy. Don’t want it to make a loud thud when it hits the floor.” I put my left hand under the book and touch her bare shoulder with my right. And she’s gone. The book plops into my hand, but since it was open it flops and slips from my grip. It shuts mid air and the corner smashes my big toe.

“Ouch,” I say.

“Yeah, real smooth there,” says Xeno.

“Shut up,” I say, kicking off her bright yellow bra from the top of my other foot.

A short man in pajamas is next. Then a construction worker. Two teenagers after that, back to back in the sci-fi/fantasy section, then another homeless person by the drinking fountains.

I almost slip up on this scary looking biker dude in the bathroom, who pulls away from me the moment I grab his arm. His reflex throws me off balance, so I almost cut him in half, but I’m able to halt the process before it turns irreversible. I grab onto him with both arms just to be sure he doesn’t yank away this time and he goes without a problem. His studded leather vest and exotic jewelry clatter to the floor.

“That was close,” I say.

“New rule,” says Xeno. “Don’t send them if they’re peeing.”

“Good rule,” I say, unzipping my fly.

“Left hand!” says Xeno.

“I know, I know.”

As I relieve myself I notice the man’s shark tooth necklace dangling off the urinal.

“Question,” I say, as I finish up and wash my hands. “When I sent Bill I saw into his mind, his soul. We connected. I felt like I knew him, like I’ve always known him. But the more people I send the less I feel that way.”

“Again,” says Xeno, “This ability was never intended to be integrated with a human interface.”

“Right,” I say, as I dry my hands. “Gotcha.”

A mom and daughter are next. This one’s tricky. Not only is it my first child but it’s two at once. They’re in the kids section. Their backs facing me. The mother is crouched down next to her daughter reading Pete the Cat. I can only see the side of the mother’s face but it looks like she’s been crying.

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I let out a sigh, squat down next to them, and grab both their arms. I see them both turn their heads towards me and their eyes go wide before they vanish.

Pete the Cat plops to the floor.

“I think that’s enough for this place,” I say.

“But you’ve only sent a handful, no pun intended, so far. There are a good dozen more, ” says the alien.

I look at the smug little face of Pete the Cat on the cover of the book. It makes me think of Pete and Rabbet.

“It’s enough to bring unwanted attention,” I say, standing up. “Plus, that librarian is starting to pick up clothes. See her? She looks so confused. She’s … oh, yep, she’s heading towards that security officer next to the metal detectors.”

“They don’t suspect anything. You’re being paranoid. There are homeless people everywhere, Jack. Some scattered items of clothing are not going to raise alarm bells. Still, you might want to keep a backpack with you or something to stuff the clothes in.”

“Yeah, I’m out. Let’s go find Kathryn.”

I exit the building, walk across the plaza, and get into my new black F-250. My truck bed is full of extra tanks of gas, which I found in a storage closet outside a maintenance and detail garage at the dealership. I also have an open trailer hooked up to the hitch. Xeno says we're definitely going to need that later on.

Just as I jump in and close the door, a faint vibration runs through the vehicle. I frown. "Did you feel that?" I ask.

"Oh no," Xeno murmurs.

"There it is again. And now it's gone," I say, glancing at the open cup of water in the holder. The ripples on the surface remind me of that dramatic scene in Jurassic Park when the T-Rex approaches the stranded characters— the original one with Sam Neill and Jeff Goldblum, not the later ones with Chris Pratt.

“It’s happening,” says Xeno.

“That wasn’t bad,” I say.

“Oh, just you wait,” he says.

I turn on the truck, tune the radio to the local news, and head out. Already, there’s a report about micro earthquakes happening all morning across the country

“… it’s not just Salt Lake,” says a weather commentator. “Reports of tremors even more aggressive on the coasts—especially in Southern California. Reports from the east coast are coming in as well, yet not as severe. FEMA is still operating in full capacity in southern Utah with the recent collapse of the alien—”

I switch the radio off as I pull onto the on-ramp for the highway, heading south.

“You’re right,” say. “It is starting.”

“Jack,” says Xeno.

“Yeah,” I say. I’m getting used to positioning my hand in a way where my palm is always facing me.

“You once asked me about religion.”

“Yeah, your progenitors. You’re agnostic about the whole thing.”

“What about you?

“What do I believe?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t you tap into my memories and Sherlock Holmes your way around to that answer?”

“I know you have a staunch Christian upbringing, I’ve scanned through the Bible in your mind countless times. And I know you’ve had a falling away.”

“There you go,” I say.

“However, being in a library made me think. And, as a super intelligent alien, I can’t help but notice something strange …”

“Strange … what are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to get all preachy on you so let’s call them prophetic flavored coincidences. Oh, I love that word.”

“Which one?”

“All of them—Look,” says Xeno. “I’m not saying you should start shining your Sunday shoes, but I’ve been scanning over the Bible in your mind. I’m surprised you’ve read most of it.”

“Okay?”

“What I’m trying to say is I find the story of Christ a fascinating piece of literature, packed with deeper meanings. With my love for words I can’t help but be obsessed. It’s like a complex code, with layers waiting to be unraveled. The narrative is full of parables and allegories, each one a puzzle with human, moral lessons attached. It’s fascinating. The use of Hebraic numerology, or gematria—you learned about that at Bible camp in 6th grade, remember?—adds another layer of complexity, connecting words and phrases in ways that offer new insights into the theological and philosophical human ideas woven into the text. You really should finish reading it. For me, at least.”

“Wow,” I say, chuckling. “That came out of nowhere. Feel like you’re trying to convert me back to the church. But I still don’t get what you’re getting at, Xeno. What’s you’re poin—”

“1 Corinthians 15:51-52,” says Xeno, “‘Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet.’ What does that sound like to you, Jack?”

I frown. “I … wait,” I say, a cold chill running down my back. “Are you saying …” I blink a few times as the thought forms in my mind. I shake my head and let out a scoff. “Are you saying you think I’m fulfilling scripture?”

“Ever heard of the rapture?” Says Xeno. “Of course you have, I pulled it right from your mind.”

“Um, sure but that’s not—”

“Matthew 24:40-41,” says Xeno, cutting me off. “‘Then two men will be in the field; one will be taken and one left. Two women will be grinding at the mill; one will be taken and one left.’" It’s all in there, Jack.”

“Hold on, you can’t—”

“Matthew 24:30-31: ‘… And he will send his angel with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of the heavens to the other.’”

“That one’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you thi—

“1 Thessalonians 4:16-17 ‘…After that great tragedy, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds …’ I can go on and on, Jack.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I say, with a snort.

“You’re right, you will be—we both will be—if we don’t build that single rider gate, and soon.”

Something washes over me in that instant. Call it an extra layer of meaning, a thick fuzzy warm blanket of purpose. Call it a cold bucket of ice water ephanany. Call it what you want. But Xeno is right, about it being strange. Maybe it’s not exactly how I imagined it, but perhaps …

“Are you …” I say.

“What?” says Xeno.

“I mean, what if I … what if you’re right, I mean. And the Bible is real after all.”

“I’m not saying anything, Jack, just pointing out parallels in your prophetic literature.”

“You’re saying … I … you’re saying I’m the rapture.”

“Again, not making any claims. Just pointing things out.”

“Holy …” I whisper, and let the rest of that exclamation drift away as the road below us trembles again.