Thirty days.
The countdown has started, North America shivers under the shadow of a massive alien spacecraft, and humanity is hurtling toward an unknown future that lurks at the end of the timer. Somewhere, somehow, the heroes are making their plan...
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Somewhere along ROUTE 95 — NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK, USA
August 1, 3:34 AM
Though Aaron's fingertips were frozen from being out so late, and his neck ached from constantly looking up, he was unable to tear his gaze from the glowing blue '30' hovering in the sky above him.
There was something else, something beyond the number, but he couldn't quite focus–
He was filled with the knowledge that he alone knew what the number meant.
For the first time in his life, he was the most important person on Earth, and that emblazoned numeral would forever remind him of that. Everyone would hear his message, and he'd finally be respected. Maybe even worshiped. They'd see him as a prophet. Perhaps even a god. And his days of delivering pizzas for Reading House Of Pizza would be over. But first—
Headlights pierced the ethereal fog surrounding him. As he stumbled toward the lights, his bare feet crunched the dead leaves on the forest floor. He swore he had shoes at one point— who rode a bike barefoot? And speaking of, where was his bike?
The driver lowered the passenger window of a gleaming black Rolls Royce. A car fit for kings. Or for prophets.
"Uber X for... Aaron?" the driver asked as he leaned over the passenger seat, peering at Aaron like the car shouldn't be for him. "Aaron Campion?"
Talk about timing.
He knew how he must look in his striped polo shirt of red and green to match RHOP's signature colors, paired with stained khakis, and— well, he did have sneakers. Somewhere... Navigating his way through the woods barefoot in the middle of the night should have disturbed Aaron more than he did, but he was on a mission. A mission of the utmost importance. Something had come to him in that fog, and he knew that he needed to share it with whoever would listen. The knowledge he possessed was the most important information that could befall human ears, and Aaron alone was tasked with the responsibility to share it.
And share it he would.
Climbing into the car, he felt the familiar comfort of his phone in his pocket. He wouldn't need to wait until he returned home to tell his friends—né, they would be his followers now!—about his divine mission. From this day forward, he would be known as Aaron the Prophet, delivering a hell of a lot more than just your large cheese with extra pepperoni in thirty minutes or less.
But as he stared at his screen, his heart sank into his stomach to the point of nausea, which didn't help the caffeine headache gathering behind his eyes. The phone was dead. Useless. All he could see on his screen was that same illuminated '30' as it was in the sky, as if it had been burned into his brain like the ghost of an image on an outdated plasma television. Now he would need to wait longer for his friends to find out. For the world to know.
