I had messed up. I had messed up so hard. I stared at my phone, scrolling up to see the last message Jenny had sent. It was curt, a simple “I’m heading out” dated for two weeks ago.

Her last words. I had heard her storm out of the house, heard when the car roared to life and sped out the driveway. Maybe I should have responded, talked to her instead of sulking like a fool, but I was too caught up in the fight we had just had. I was certainly regretting that hotheadedness now.

Two weeks of nothing. No texts, no phone calls, not even any withdrawals from our bank account or charges on their credit card. For the first week I had thought she had maybe crashed at a friend's place.

A week ago I remembered the air tag we had put in the car after its window got smashed. It felt wrong to check the tag’s location, like I was invading Jenny’s privacy, but I just needed to know she was okay. I told myself I would look at the app, it would be near her parents house or something, and that would be it. But all I saw on the app was an error message.

It couldn’t have been the battery, I had just replaced them a few days before Jenny stormed off. And it wasn’t because she had chucked them. That would have still sent a signal, just a stationary one. No, this was more like the tag had been destroyed.

If that wasn’t worrying enough, when I finally cracked and called her, the call didn’t go through. It didn’t even go straight to voicemail, it just failed. It was like Jenny had just disappeared off the face of the Earth. And I was fairly certain where that drop might have taken place.

I slowly drifted back into reality now that my glass was empty. I could hear voices all around me, the bar full with people on a friday night. Two broad fellows, one from fat and the other from muscle, sat next to me at the bar and were arguing in a friendly way. “All I’m saying is, there’s no way it's aliens. Nobody but the crackpots believe that. Hell, the governor said it wasn’t aliens himself.”

“Right, and it's not like politicians have ever lied before.” The fat one scoffed as he raised his glass.

“I trust them to be incompetent. There’s no way they could keep a secret like that, not with how many people have telescopes and radars pointed at the stars every night. They’d have to silence half of nasa, and you know someone would tell a journalist just for fame alone.”

“Well, if it ain’t aliens, what is it? Some kinda weapon? An experiment gone wrong? The lizard people finally reclaiming the surface world?” The man’s tone made it clear he was mocking his buddy. That or he just got really theatrical when drunk.

“If I knew what the bubble was, you think I’d be telling you?” He drained the last drops of beer from his glass and hooked a thumb at one of the TVs hanging above the bar. “All I know is that I’m heading to the coast. Springfield got caught, and I’m not going to wait around to see if it grows or not.”

Following the man’s thumb revealed a news report playing on one of the TVs that would normally be stuck on a sporting event. A reporter whose expression could either be described as excited or absolutely terrified was speaking in front of an open helicopter door. In the distance behind them was a massive structure, its pitch black color dominating the surrounding landscape.

I paused to stare at what had to be the bubble. The pictures I had seen on the internet certainly didn’t capture its sheer scale or how ominous it looked just sitting in the middle of nowhere. It was like the world had glitched and lost its texture, displaying nothing but a black void.

The wide shot from the helicopter was barely able to fit the entire bubble on screen. A graphic at the bottom helpfully included its dimensions, a dome with a radius of about one and a half kilometers. Next to its size was how many people were assumed to be caught in it, the roughly four thousand residents from the town of Springfield and a smattering of people from the outlying homes.

Of course, one of the deadliest events in US history was only allocated a single screen, with the rest playing a variety of Tennis, Baseball, and virtual horse races of all things. Nevermind that an entire town had been enveloped in a night, drunk people gotta bet on CGI horses.

I couldn’t really blame them for the sparse coverage though. There really hadn’t been that much news, crazy as that sounds, coming out of what used to be Springfield since it first appeared two weeks ago. The police had been quick to set up a quarantine to stop any traffic, and once the governor called in the National Guard that had only gotten tighter.

But that rational part of my brain was being overshadowed by the majority which cried for an update. For pictures of people stumbling out of the bubble, and for Jenny to be among them. She had left two weeks ago, the bubble had appeared two weeks ago. Nothing she had on her was sending any signals, no signals had been detected from within the bubble. I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but even I could piece that puzzle together.

The man placed a handful of bills down and stood up, leaving his buddy to sit at the bar shaking his head. As I continued to watch the news special in a daze, the newly vacant seat was quickly filled.

Why was nobody doing anything? The governor had called in the National Guard but that just meant more guns to keep people away. There had been a presidential address but nothing concrete had been said. Just a bunch of platitudes, of “we will make it through this together” and “we have no idea what happened” said in a way that wouldn’t freak everyone out.

Then again, what was I doing? Sitting at a bar because I couldn’t be at home where every picture and decoration reminded me of Jenny?

“Hey, buddy, you alright?” It took a couple of seconds before I realized the question was directed at me. Sitting in the stool next to me was a thin, bespectacled man. He twisted to face me and continued. “I don’t think you’ve breathed in like, a minute. What’s got you so worked up?”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

I stared at this person who initiated human interaction in a bar. Who does that? I came here to wallow in my sadness, not talk about it. But he was waiting for a response, so I pointed a finger at the screen playing the news report. A look of recognition flashed across his face as he nodded slowly. “Ah, yeah. That was one hell of a night. When I heard what happened I tried to drive to Springfield, to see my brother, but the cops had gotten roadblocks up by the morning. The bubble was in sight but still a ways off.”

He sighed and studied his drink, thinking of his next words. “The creepiest thing about it was the silence. When I got out of my car I heard nothing, not a single bird chirping. It was like every animal in that forest decided to up and leave.”

“Hey,” the man leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper, “this’ll probably sound bad, but… did you know anyone in there?” I desperately fought a losing battle to keep my face neutral, and the man’s response made it clear I had failed. “I’m only asking because my neighbor is setting up a thing this weekend for people who’ve been… affected.”

I shot him my most baffled look to which he leaned back and raised his hands in surrender. “It’s just like a get together, you know? Everyone there’ll have lost someone, so maybe you’ll find someone that understands. And if you don’t you’ll still have gotten a free meal.”

He rifled through his jacket before retrieving a pen and scribbling something down on a napkin in front of him. “Here, this is the address. You can drop in tomorrow, grab some burgers, and leave if that’s what you’re up for. I just get the feeling you need to get out, and not just to bars.”

After passing me the note the man turned back to his drink and started watching one of the baseball games. I stared at the note for a while, wondering what to do. Eventually I decided on sleep and got up, pocketed the note and started the walk back to my house.

~

The place seemed… nice, all things considered. A fairly typical family home, two stories with a detached garage and a well maintained garden. Hell, there was even a tire swing tied to a particularly sturdy oak tree in the front lawn. It looked picturesque, like something out of those catalogs Jenny liked to flip through sometimes.

Past the tire swing was a small group of people clustered around a grill. About a dozen, some sitting, some standing, all talking and smiling.

As I sat staring at them from my car, I felt out of place. They all looked so… happy. So normal. No burger was worth going there and making a fool of myself.

Besides, I thought as I started up the car to head out, I would only be tanking the mood.

But as I put the car in reverse, there was a knock on the passenger window. I looked over, slightly startled, and saw the semi-familiar face of the man I met last night. He gave me a wave and pointed to the grill.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and lowered the window. “H-hey, uh, remember me?”

“Of course! I’m glad you decided to come.” His smile was infectious, and by the end of his sentence I had abandoned my plans of getting the hell out of dodge. “By the way, I didn’t catch your name last night. Terrible rude of me.”

“It’s Rick,” I said as I unbuckled myself and got out of the car.

“Nice to meet you Rick, I’m Oliver.” I took his outstretched hand and received a steady handshake. He must have caught on to my apprehension because waved me forward. “Come on, I’ll introduce you. And don’t worry, yours isn’t the only unfamiliar face here today.”

What happened next could only be described as a whirlwind tour. My arrival was like something out of cheers, with a chorus of “Hello Rick” echoing back after Oliver introduced me to the group. Everyone I met had a story to tell, from Jane and Steve, a couple who both had family in Springfield, to Taylor whose house had been enveloped while she was out on a business trip. As I stood and listened to her rant about how the insurance company was refusing her payout as an act of god, Johnson, the owner of the lawn we were standing in, gave the call that burgers were ready.

At one point Oliver brought out a guitar and started taking requests. He was surprisingly good, and the impromptu karaoke night was a nice way to pass the time, to avoid having to think about what happened with Jenny.

Overall the night was pleasant and I found myself smiling a couple times throughout. Although whenever I caught myself smiling it sent a shiver of regret down my spine. What right did I have to be sitting here, having fun, when Jenny was still nowhere to be found?

A few hours later, while I was sitting at the far end of the picnic table slowly taking small bites out of a burger, Johnson sat down next to me. He still had his apron on, an oversized one that honest to god read kiss the cook. The scariest part was that I couldn’t tell if he wore it ironically or not.

“Not a fan of the burger?” He raised a hand before I could respond. “I know I’m not the best cook in the world. You don’t have to finish it if you don’t want to.” I was going to say something before I saw the grin across his face.

“No, it's not that. The burger is fine. It’s just…” my eyes shot around as I tried to find the words that fit what i felt, “everyone seems so happy, and I just can’t- I don’t- I’m just not.”

Johnson leaned forward, his elbows propping him up on the table. His response was measured. “That’s perfectly fine. Everyone here knows that feeling, it’s why they’re here. Today is a chance for us to feel normal.”

“But I don’t want to feel normal! I don’t want to just… forget about Jenny. Doing this, being here, it makes me feel like I’m not sad enough.” I fought back the wetness that was slowly creeping into my eyes. “I should be doing something instead of sitting here stuffing my face.”

“What would you rather be doing?” he asked slowly.

“Something. Anything!” My voice rose as I spoke, drawing the attention of the people who were still milling about. I leaned forward and covered my face in the vain hope that if I looked sad enough they would stay away on general principle.

That technique certainly didn’t work on Johnson who placed a hand on my shoulder and kept speaking. “I may have a way for you to do something. But I need to know if you really want to do it.” He craned his neck as if to stretch it, but I could tell he was checking for any people listening in. “Are you?”

My face left my hands as I looked into Johnson’s eyes. They were clear, sincere. I didn’t trust myself to speak and not have my emotions spill out, so I just nodded.

He gave me a pat on the shoulder and rose from the bench. “Come back here at midnight, and try to wear muted colors.”

At his parting words I quickly stood up, my half-finished burger completely forgotten as I rushed to my car and sped out of the driveway. I had to get ready.