The crowd's reaction to Isabella’s sudden disappearance is as varied as it is intense. Shouts of disbelief clash with exclamations of awe, creating a cacophony that reverberates through the desert air.

People surge toward the stage, a chaotic tide of bodies and emotions. It takes considerable effort to restore order, with even Ben stepping in, his usual calm demeanor replaced with a focused determination as he helps form them into a semblance of a line.

Scanning the crowd, I see a few individuals hastily packing up and retreating to their cars. They drive off, leaving clouds of dust in their wake. Yet, they are a small fraction compared to those who remain.

A young mother is the first to step forward, clutching her child's hand. "Please, if there's a place for us, take us there," she pleads in Ben’s microphone. Her voice trembles with a mixture of hope and desperation, and the crowd watches her intently, their collective breath held in anticipation.

I simply nod and take both their hands.

They go together with no problem.

Next, a teenager with a defiant expression steps up. He wears a leather jacket and has a skeptical glint in his eye. "Let's see if this is real," he mutters, his tone challenging but his steps hesitant. His bravado seems to mask a deeper curiosity and a yearning for something beyond.

An elderly man, frail and bent with age, approaches slowly. He leans heavily on a cane, his face lined with years of hardship. "I've lived a long fulfilling life, so I'm ready for either outcome," he says, his voice trembling but resolute.

“Either?” I say. “What do you mean?”

“Well, either y’all are telling the truth or you’re not,” he says, resolute.

I nod and take his wrinkly hand.

Belle sneaks up onto the stage to help remove the clothing items as they begin to pile up.

A middle-aged woman, dressed in a torn business suit, steps forward with determination. "I have nothing left to lose," she declares, her voice steady and her gaze unwavering.

A young couple, holding hands tightly, approaches. "We'll go together," they say in unison. Their united front and mutual support draw murmurs of approval from those watching.

A burly man with tattoos covering his arms marches up next. "I've seen a lot in my life. If this is a trick, I'll know," he growls, his voice filled with a rough-edged skepticism.

A woman in her thirties, her eyes filled with hope, steps forward. "I've prayed for this moment," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

A young boy, no older than ten, approaches hesitantly. His parents have died, he says. "Will I see my mom again?" he asks, his voice so small.

I'm not sure how to answer him, but I give him a smile and tell him maybe one day.

A man in a wheelchair wheels himself up to the stage. "If this is real, then I want to walk again," he says, his voice filled with determination.

A homeless man, ragged and weary, shuffles forward. "I've got nowhere else to go," he mumbles, his voice tinged with resignation.

By the end, the sun has set, and everyone is gone. Either they’ve driven away or stepped into paradise. The once chaotic scene is now eerily quiet, the air filled with a sense of profound change.

And I'm exhausted. It's a profound, unnatural fatigue that seeps into my bones. Sending that many people drains me. By the time everyone is gone except for the Brocks, it's deep into the night. I collapse on the stage, my body and mind utterly spent.

—•—•—•—

Bang, bang, pow, pow, pow!

My eyes flutter open.

Pow, pi, pi, pi, pow.

I gasp and sit up in a panic. Gunshots! More shooting!

I’m under a sheet in a bed at the back of an RV. It’s very dim in the room, save for a small window letting in a beam of dusty light that makes a dazzling illuminated design on the opposite wall.

“Whoa, whoa there, freakazoid,” says Xeno.

“They’re back,” I say, untangling myself from the sheet. “Do you hear that? They’re back, we have to go. We have to—where are my pants?”

“Calm down, Jack. Relax. It’s—”

I get my ankle tangled up in the sheet as I step off the bed and slam my face and chest against the side wall with a loud thump.

“Ouh.”

“Oh, for the love of—There’s no shooting!” says Xeno.

I get to my feet, pull myself free. “No, I hear it, it’s—”

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“It’s hailing, Jack. Outside. Big balls, like golf ball-sized, like the size of your brain. Calm down.”

I stop, look at the window. “What?”

“Yeah, you’re going to see a lot more of that as your world gradually starts to freeze over in the next twenty or so years.”

“Jack?” comes a voice from behind a closed door.

I spin around towards the direction of the voice just as the door to the little bedroom slides open.

“I heard a—oh, hi,” says Belle, letting in a lot of light.

It's bright. I cover my eyes with a forearm.

“Oh … hey,” I say. And then realizing I’m in my boxer briefs, cover my crotch with both hands. “Uh, do you know where my pants are?”

She smiles, shrugs. “No idea.”

There’s a rush of hard winds outside, intensifying the pelting of the hail. It gets really loud for about five seconds, loud enough that both of us take note.

“Getting pretty bad out there,” I say.

“Good thing it didn’t start up until late last night after the event. Want some breakfast?” She turns and walks over to the small kitchenette near the front of the RV. I can smell… Well, nothing.

She’s wearing plaid pajama bottoms that emphasizes her natural curves, and a t-shirt that says “Jesus saves little green men.”

“Yeah, good thing,” I say, stepping into the main cab of the RV. My jeans are laid out on a chair in plain sight. “Thanks, I’m starving.”

She turns back with a sack of mixed nuts in her hand. “Sorry, we’re out of bacon,” she says. “And pretty much everything else, except for water.”

I let out a snort. “After yesterday, I’m so sick of bacon.”

She walks back over to me and hands me the sack.

“Thanks, uh, my pants are right there, would you mind?”

“Oh, look at that. I didn’t even notice,” she says, in a way that insinuates she knew exactly where they were.

My mouth makes a nervous sound as she hands them to me. She watches me intently as I check my pockets. Good, my marbles are still there. I smile, and close the bedroom door.

“Where’s your dad?” I say.

“The hail storm hit so hard and so fast, all of us ran to the nearest vehicle to wait it out.” She pauses. “We were worried about you, after you passed out on the stage last night. You’ve been asleep for almost a full day.”

“Yeah, I, uh,” I fumble into my jeans and pull them up. “I’ve never done that many before at once. It’s a strain on the body. When the government had me underground doing horrific experiments on me, the most they ever forced me to do back to back was eighty mice. They had them crawling over my arms while I was tied down and—you know, I’d rather not revisit that memory right now, actually.”

I open the door and she’s still standing there, right where I left her. Her face looks contorted and concerned.

“Underground?” she says. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s nothing,” I say, waving it off and walking past her. I sit down on the couch and open the sack of nuts. “I just had a little run-in with some nasty people with an endless black budget. Oh, I love cashews.” I say.

She sits next to me.

The pelting outside starts to lighten up.

“Jack … you never told me the government did experiments on you.” Her tone of voice is sympathetic but at the same time enthralled.

“Yeah, it was brutal.” I cringe and stuff my face with cashews. I take my gloves off and show her all the scars on the backs of my hands.

She reaches for my hands and I pull away.

“I’m not ready to send you to paradise just yet,” I say.

She gives me a defiant look.

“What if I want you to take me to paradise?” The look she gives me is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

I swallow, clear my throat.

“Jack, Jack,” says Xeno. “I could be wrong, but I think that was actually a metaphor for something else entirely. I’m still learning the intricacies of human innuendos, but I think—ooh, I love that word. Innuendo. Innu—”

“Xeno, could you give us a minute here?” says Belle.

“Oh, sure. I’m sure a minute is all he’ll last anyway, after being cooped up for so long undergrou—”

“Xeno!” I say, and Belle laughs.

She grabs my sack of nuts—the cashews, I mean—and moves them to the far side of the couch.

Then, slowly, keeping her eyes locked with mine, she straddles me.

She grabs my wrists and pushes my arms out wide, and pinning them to the back of the couch under the window sill.

“You keep your hands way over there, you hear?” she says.

“Why, what are we doing?” I say, playing and sounding dumb at the same time. I can’t help but smile.

She looks at me, tilts her head, then slowly leans in and kisses my lips.

She pulls back and we look at each other. Then she goes in to kiss me again. Her lips are so soft, so wet. I go to hold her and she shoves my hands back out flat again.

“Sorry,” I say, and she rebuffs me with a grunt.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I notice the pelting outside has ceased as she grabs the sides of my face and shoves her lips deep into mine. I feel her hips begin to grind up against my own, her chest pressed into me.

The door of the RV swings open, the strong winds slamming it against the interior so loud it makes Belle and I both jump and yelp.

Ben steps up inside the RV with Gus behind him and I suddenly feel… wetness.

“The hailstorm is over,” says Ben. “I just wanted to check on …” His sentence falls thin and his eyes go wide.

I look at Belle. She’s looking at me with a confused look on her face.

I look down and realize I’d grabbed her thighs. Or … where her thighs would be if they were there.

I jump off the couch and Belle and I tumble to the floor.

“Oh no, oh no, no no no,” I say.

Ben falls to his knees and gasps.

“I… she, we…” is all I can say. “I didn’t mean—”

“You have to send her right now,” says Xeno. “It’s her only chance.”

I’m frozen in place. I can’t move. Every fiber in my body is locked up, even my breathing.

“Jack!” yells Xeno, as Ben puts his hand behind Belle’s head.

“Daddy?” she says. “It’s so cold. Did you leave the door open?”

“She’s losing it, Jack!”

“Listen,” I say, getting a grip on myself. “There’s a fruit, I think, that can regrow… I don’t know, find a woman named. Oh what was her name? She’s missing a hand! She can help. I … I hope she …” I trail off.

“Do something!” shouts Ben.

I grab her arm and send her. Her body disappears.

There’s a moment of palpable silence where Ben and I just stare down at the pool of blood on the ground. Slowly, he looks up at me.

“What did you do?”

“I …”

Then he growls the same question at me. “What … did you DO?”

I don’t think, I just lean forward and grab Ben by the arm. As he vanishes, I fall forward onto my elbows, splashing into the red mess Belle left behind.