We’re in a grotto, taking shelter for the night.

It's not your typical natural grotto unless you count a patchwork quilt of shattered alien crystal walls and ceilings thrown on top of a freshly formed depression in the ground as natural. Part of the vessel is now embedded into the earth, even deeper than before. Getting over the edge of the impact crater around the edge of the vessel took a good two exhausting hours with that stupid flat tire.

We were lucky we found this little hole when we did.

There’s a soft glow to everything. Or the residue of a glow. That phenomenon is hard to describe. Whatever it is, it’s enough to illuminate my surroundings enough to avoid tripping.

I step out of the truck and peer upwards. The ceiling has to be at least thirty feet tall. The whole grotto is large enough to fill a modest sized, three bedroom home.

“Are you sure this won’t collapse on us?” I say.

“How should I know?” says Xeno. “I’ll tell you what, though, I feel much safer here than I do out there.”

“I can’t believe we made it through that,” I say, inspecting the damage to the truck. The top is severely pock-marked and there are cracks in every window. The back window is completely blown out.

“There’s more to come, but that was the big one,” says Xeno. “Your world is not only shifting its magnetosphere around, but the tectonic plates are having a field day as well.”

The sun's setting, casting long shadows and turning the sky into a palette of oranges and purples that clash with the green interior of the grotto. From my point of view, I can see the inside edge of the impact crater about a mile away. Also, to my surprise, there were hundreds of vehicles and tents set up along the edge of the crash perimeter, clusters here and there, but nothing closer. There were people too, walking aimlessly around in groups, but no one was able to cross the threshold of the crater.

“I still don’t understand how we were able to get past the perimeter of the crash crater and get all the way in here and those people weren’t.”

“If you remember, Jim already explained that to you.”

“What? When?”

“During your latest podcast, when you were talking about the attempt at building a base on top of a vessel.”

“Oh, right,” I say. “Some sort of field that messes with people if they get too close, right? Makes them feel super sick or something. That field is still active now?

“Obviously.”

“Huh,” I say. “So why am I not throwing up everywhere then?”

“That’s because you have me. Don’t ask me about the details, Jack, you’re just not smart enough for an in depth overview of vibrational wave frequencies.”

“What about animals?” I say, ignoring the condescending remark. I’ve grown numb to those by now anyway.

“Animals have a different vibrational framework than you do. Most are much more in tune with your planet. Some might be able to get through no problem, I don’t know.”

It howls like a banshee, echoing through our tiny cave.

“I should be up there helping them,” I say, as I crouch down and peer beneath the truck bed. “There it is.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“You can’t save them all, Jack.”

I grab hold of the lever holding the spare tire in place and give it a twist. It takes a few times for the tire to lower to the ground. After pulling it free, I dig around behind the front seat for the jack.

“Turn on the radio,” says Xeno. “Let’s see if we can get anything.”

“Good idea,” I say, leaning over and switching it on.

There’s a few automated government alerts looping on some FM channels, but most of the frequencies are dead static. I scan through every single station, FM and AM. It’s all nearly the same, save for a Spanish channel that’s surprisingly still playing mariachi music.

“Oh, wait, go back,” says Xeno.

“What, Mexican restaurant music?”

“No, there was something else.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“Well, your hearing sucks. A little further, no, no, okay now you passed it. No! Go back—there!”

And he’s right. It’s an AM frequency reporting on current events. At times it glitches out, but we’re able to get the gist of it.

“… just gone,” says an exasperated male voice. “All of it. I mean, all of .... It just dropped into the sea. No more Disneyland, no more Golden Gate ... We’re still getting reports from the east coast, but the west is simply devastated. No, it’s not devastated, that would indicate that something is left to devastate. No, it’s just completely ... Sea water is rushing in, and from the latest report I've heard it’s reached as far as Las Vegas.”

I cover my mouth with my left hand as the reporter rambles on, providing estimated numbers of the dead. I feel helpless. I feel, for some reason, like this is my fault, which is completely insane. I can understand that intellectually, but I can’t help the irrational guilt.

“I can’t listen to this anymore,” I say, switching off the radio, and going back to digging for the car jack.

Replacing the tire wasn’t that hard. I’d done it plenty of times before and the tools were all included in a pack along with the Jack. Xeno complains that I’m gripping the jack handle too tight, and that it’s going to give his lips blisters. I just ignore him, until it’s done and I flop back into the driver’s seat.

I take a long breath, wipe the sweat off my brow, and say, “Five thousand.”

“What now?” says Xeno.

I reach behind into the back seat and pull a thick blanket from under the passenger seat. It’s getting colder by the minute, I notice.

“Five thousand,” I say. “That’s how many I have to send, at least, before we use the single rider gate.”

“That’s, uh, that seems a bit excessive, don’t you think?”

“If Jesus can feed five thousand with two loaves of bread and five fish, then I can save five thousand lives. If there are even that many left still alive out there.”

“It was, uh, actually five loaves of bread and two fish, but—”

“Whatever,” I say, eating a few crackers and laying the chair back until it’s pressed against my supplies in the backseat. I snuggle into the blanket and turn to the side. “That’s my goal, Xeno. I just feel like if we build this single one way gate, and I leave without sending enough people, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

Technically, establishing a viable civilization on a new world doesn't necessarily demand a vast population. All you really need is about five-hundred and—”

“Five thousand,” I say, closing my eyes. “Gah, I’m exhausted. You’re exhausting.”

“Fine,” says Xeno. “Five thousand. If there are even that many still alive out there.”

"There are,” I say, sounding more confident than I feel. “I've mostly lived for myself, you know? Flying solo, not really thinking much about others, except a select few. I've been a bit superficial in my relationships. But deep down, I've always wanted to uncover the truth, peel back the layers of government secrecy and corruption. To make a difference. That’s why I started my podcast, and my Youtube channel. What's been handed to me might not be exactly what I imagined, but it's my shot at finally doing some real good. And I’m not going to jump ship because I’m anxious to get out of here. I know that delays your departure too, but if you could just bear with me a little longer, I’d much appreciate it."

“Preach,” says Xeno, flatly. “Not like I have much of a choice, really. Okay, Jack. Five thousand it is.”

I sigh, and switch to my other side. “Look, I desperately need to sleep. We’ll pick up—”

“You humans sleep a third of your life away, did you know that?”

“First thing tomorrow,” I mumble, “You can teach me how to connect with your vessel and we’ll go hunting for those components you keep talking about. Okay?”

“Great!” says Xeno. “I can’t wait.”

“Hey, how about you read some more of that prophecy to me,” I say. “From the Bible.”

“Oh oh, really? Jack-y wants a Christian bedtime story?”

“Only the parts that might be relevant to all this.” I wave my hand around. “Just for educational purposes. You know, just in case.”

“Ooh, goodie. I love the poetry of the New Testament. It’s so visceral and encoded with a vast number of hidden—”

“Xeno,” I say, pleadingly.

“Uh, right. Sorry. Okay, I know the perfect passage for tonight. You read it back in Bible camp a long time ago. I’ve already got it cued up. It’s called … the Book of Revelations.”