“Aahhh, what the hell?!” I scowled at the pink shirt in the mirror.
“No. No, grandma…” Sola giggled, “Really… it suits you.”
She laughed again. Despite my embarrassment, I liked the sound of her laughter. I looked at her shirt, jealous. It was a simple, red t-shirt with a burst of flame over the chest.
“Any chance you’d be willing to switch with me?”
“No way!” She pointed, “That shirt is too perfect on you.”
We got quiet again. I sighed as the severity of our situation set in.
“Sooooo, Jackie…?” I said.
“Yeah. She was complaining, saying how I show too much cleavage. And I was like, ‘Think about it. Why do you think dads keep bringing their families here? It ain’t for the pizza or the rat.’ And then she just got—smooshed—by one of those sports trunk thingies.”
“Smooshed?”
“Smooshed.”
We looked at each other, both fighting back guilty smiles.
“But did she say, ‘mmmkay’ first?” I snickered.
We cracked up in an unhinged spark of levity. Sola pointed at me.
“What about you? Who got killed?”
“Todd. Poor bastard took it right in the rat head. At least he was out of it.”
She nodded. “I never liked him…but man, that’s a terrible way to go.” She pulled her hair back into a pony-tail. “So. What do we do now?”
I pulled out my phone. “You got family here?”
Sola shook her head no. I waited for her to elaborate, but it became clear she wasn’t going to.
I dismissed a bunch of missed notifications from my VR game app.
J-Dawg8: bro, what’s happening?!?!
J-Dawg8: yo — it’s the end times
J-Dawg8: I don’t wanna die today, bro
J-Dawg8: can’t meet jesus like this
J-Dawg8: I ain’t been living right
I dialed my mom. An error message popped up:
No Signal
“Ahh. Any luck with yours?”
Sola showed me the same error on her screen. I looked at her, concerned. “I need to check on my mom.”
“What about your dad?”
“Died when I was three. Had a heart attack playing pro football.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well… I never knew him.”
Back at the front of the store, we peered out of the shattered window pane. The metal trunk downpour had stopped, but not without taking a devastating toll. There were dead bodies everywhere… cars, burning in flaming heaps… survivors, running through carnage.
I gripped the straps of my rucksack, “How can we get through all this?”
“We can take my bike.”
“Your bike?” I raised an eyebrow.
A few minutes later, we were in an underground parking garage, staring at Sola’s red and black Ducati Diavel. The vanity plate read: “N-Fuego.”
“Wait a minute. You work at Rat E. Cheddar’s and you have a frickin’ Ducati?!”
“So. Maybe, I used to have a sugar daddy,” she smirked as she straddled the bike. “You coming?”
I wedged in behind her. It was a tight fit—my crotch pressed right up against her. I wrapped my arms around her, partly enjoying it, and partly feeling like a little bitch.
“Hang on,” Sola warned. “She goes fast.”
She revved the engine and we rocketed out of the garage. I wasn’t ready for the speed. I lurched backward, clutching her waist tighter, doing everything I could to keep from falling off.
“WHOAA!” I screamed, instantly embarrassed.
Sola peeked back at me and laughed. “You’re a funny bird, Sam Wynbrook.”
Above ground, we got an up-close view of the catastrophic destruction. With expert skill, Sola weaved through the twisted maze of flaming metal and bone. Charred remains lay in gridlocked vehicles. An overturned bus featured skeletal hands reaching through the windows - evidence of those who couldn’t escape in time.
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“Oh, man,” I remarked, shaking my head.
The sky above us continued to swirl like a tempest. Its inner vortex seemed to be dilating, opening like a portal. A shimmering light leaked through as if stars were folding inward on themselves. News and police helicopters, and military jets circled, keeping watch from a distance.
“Hold on!” Sola shouted.
She swerved the bike to the right, hopping a curb and—
WHAM!
—narrowly avoided a smoldering 18-wheeler as it careened into the side of a building. The Ducati sped off as a huge explosion erupted behind us. I peeked back as a raging fireball bloomed into the sky.
“HOLY CRAPOLI!”
My mom’s neighborhood, in north Philly, was equally tragic. Her street was a portrait of panicked attempts to flee. Frenzied parents were ushering frightened children, carrying what little belongings they could, inside trash bags over their shoulders. Abandoned cars and spilled suitcases lined the roads. Loose clothes flapped in the wind. Downed power lines crackled like electric snakes.
Mom’s apartment building was pockmarked with craters from fallen chests. The brick facade was marred with soot. Smoke drifted from open windows, rising to meet the darkened sky.
“Oh no… Park here,” I motioned.
I climbed off the bike, circled slowly, and took everything in. Sola walked up beside me. We stared up at the smoldering building. It looked as though it might topple at any moment. I clenched my fists, steeling myself as I took the first steps toward the building’s entrance. Sola grabbed me, pulling me close in a surprising moment of affection.
“Be careful,” she warned.
I looked at her and nodded, then ducked inside the smoky front doors. I stepped into a veil of darkness. My heart pounded in my chest. The air was thick and heavy, smelling of burnt plastics and rot. I paused, trying to let my eyes adjust to the darkness.
“Hello? Is anyone in here?” I called out, my voice echoing down the hallways.
The silence was eerie and oppressive. I took a cautious step forward, my footfall lost in shadow. The black seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions like an ocean of ink. The only reprieve was the occasional spark from exposed wires in the walls.
“Hello?” I tried again, louder this time.
Still no reply. The stillness was unsettling. I felt as if I were alone, exploring some dark, abandoned planet. A shiver ran down my spine, raising the small hairs on my neck.
I fumbled for my phone, turning on its flashlight. The small beam glowed dimly, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. The meager light did little to dispel the darkness, but it was enough to reveal a narrow path ahead.
Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and moved onward, each step drawing me further into the void.
The elevator was dead. The buttons didn’t illuminate and the doors were jammed shut. I made my way up the emergency exit stairwell. The steps were littered with spilled toys and clothes—evidence of families who had scrambled to get their loved ones out. I hoped that they made it to safety.
I reached the 6th floor, where my mom’s apartment was. I coughed, batting my way through the noxious fumes of melted housewares. I reached the apartment door and was surprised to find it cracked open. I pushed it inward.
“Mom? Hello?”
There was no answer. I stepped inside, slow and steady.
“Mom, you in here?”
I walked down the front hallway and turned into the kitchen. That’s when I saw her and my stomach dropped and turned to ice.
She had been sitting at the kitchen table wrapping a birthday present for me. Now her chair was overturned, her body crushed by a fallen metal trunk. This one projected a glowing whistle icon.
“Oh, God,” I wept.
I was torn between terror and sorrow. Seeing the half-wrapped gift on the table reminded me that despite her imperfections, my mother still cared. And now she was gone.
I flinched as a hand touched my shoulder. It was Sola.
“Oh no! That’s her?”
I nodded, tearfully.
“I’m so sorry.” She pulled me into an embrace, guiding my face away.
----
We sat on the curb outside. I reached inside the gift box and pulled out a card. Sola read it for me.
“Never stop dreaming. Happy Birthday. Love, Mom.”
I took the card from her and stuffed it inside my rucksack. I reached back inside the gift box and pulled out a silver necklace with a gamepad charm.
I broke down, burying my head in Sola’s lap. Surprised, she gently rubbed my back, “At least she didn’t suffer.”
I nodded. I raised my head, wiped my face, and stared at the silver necklace and charm.
“Here, let me help you,” she said.
Sola took it and draped it around my neck, fastening the clasp.
“There. It looks good on you.”
I peered into her eyes. “Thanks.”
The moment hung in awkward silence. I cleared my throat and pulled a battery operated shortwave radio out of my rucksack.
“Mom always kept this for emergencies. Said it was my grandpa’s.”
I clicked it on and worked the dial until static gave way to a crackling broadcast signal:
“… of the emergency broadcast system. This is not a test. President Warfield has issued the following message to the nation and world at large.”
“My fellow Americans and citizens of the world, at approximately 10:53 a.m. Eastern Standard Time, a global event transpired that has affected us all. Foreign objects from an unidentifiable source have fallen and caused mass destruction in all major cities across the Earth. I want to assure you all, our military is prepared and is, at this very moment, launching a counter-strike operation to survey and deter any further loss of life. Until we can determine the origin of these objects and the severity of threat that remains, we are advising all citizens to take shelter indoors and remain tuned to this channel for further updates. We have faced colossal threats before and have come out victorious, and we shall do so again.”
I clicked the radio off. Sola and I exchanged glances.
“What do you think is happening?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.”
I was startled by the sudden roar of fighter jets scrambling overhead. We rose to our feet as the ground rumbled beneath us.
“It’s an aftershock,” I said.
The sidewalk flexed and the street cracked. Up above, the jets spiraled out of control.
“Oh no!” Sola gasped.
The jets careened out of sight and exploded in the distance with a loud boom. Smoke and flames drifted on the horizon. Then, there was a new sound—low and resonant—the hum of unearthly engines.
We looked at the swirling vortex in the sky. The portal was completely open—and spaceships were entering Earth’s atmosphere.
----
As they descended beneath the clouds, the spacecraft became more visible and defined. They gleamed of dark metal, their shapes—conical, with flared edges and thrusters propelling them forward. The ships kept coming through the portal. One after another. There were thousands of them. Tiny, reflective glints—entering Earth’s airspace and dispersing across the globe.
“Turn the radio back on,” Sola said.
I clicked the dial. Static crackled and the broadcast resumed.
“…reports of UAP sightings… that’s unidentified anomalous phenomena… spotted all across the planet. We are standing by to hear if President Warfield will be giving a follow-up address. Again, we repeat, according to associate news agencies around the world, there have been numerous sightings…”
I shut the radio off.
“There’s way more going on than what they’re saying. We need to see where those ships are headed.”
Sola tapped on my leather holsters containing the pizza cutters.
“Whoa. Hold on there, cowboy. We don’t know who or what’s in those ships. Besides… all you’ve got is pizza cutters, a plant, and a radio.”
I nodded, “Yeah.”
My expression grew more resolute. “But whoever they are… they killed my mom.”
I drew a pizza cutter and twirled it, mind lost in thought. It was magic in my hands—spinning with the precision of a master gunman. I slammed it back in the holster.
“I just… I just can’t let it go.”
Sola studied my eyes, full of pain and anguish. She nodded.
“Let’s ride.”
She hopped on the Ducati. I slid in behind her.