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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LYNCHBURG, VIRGINIA, USA
August 15, 7:00 PM
When I returned home and flung the flashlight off my Mini2Go scooter, I didn't expect it to tumble to the ground and land at the feet of Maheri Mikhaylov.
Half-slouched against the stairs leading to his doorstep, Maheri turned away to puff off the smoke from his vape. "What's that?" he asked, motioning to my scooter.
"How do you expect me to get to work, eh?" I replied, taking a seat on his front porch and nestling the flashlight in my pocket. "Catch the Amtrak?"
He snickered. "You should ask the alien overlords," he pointed up,"to bless you a ride."
I snorted and glanced at the towering spaceship: it was a magnificent monstrosity glimmering in the darkened sky, a searing light streaming down from the middle. Just a day before, ink-black darkness shrouded Lynchburg — but now, the blinding brightness bounced off windows, basking us within a dim, haunting glow.
Maheri straightened his back. "Fucked up shit."
"It's like an SNL rendition of an UFO skit. In what world does a giant turd show up to block the sun?"
"It's pretty circular," he noted.
"Never had a circular shit? Or if you're me, you haven't because I'm scared shitless," I said. "I also haven't seen you since everything went down, so..."
"Well, I..." he waved his hands in the air. "Stocked up on my vapes, biscuits, ramen, and chilled in a dark corner."
"You, chill? You're telling me you —"
"Okay! Okay, I was freaking the fuck out, all right?" He sighed. "Thank fuck there's some light now. And whatever that is, you saw the news, yes?"
"Electricity gone kaput."
"Rigged the dynamo. Maybe I'd get you some supply, but it doesn't do much," he said. "Apparently that heavenly UFO light-bulb has this ionizing... air. Thing." He shrugged. "Happy particles. They sent in a reporter who acted like he downed a whole bottle of Edibles."
"He was... high?"
"Yep."
"Do you really trust the government saying that, Maheri?" I pursed my lips. "Maybe they'd wanna bait us to the centre so they could force us to evacuate."
"They weren't wrong," he said, taking another drag of his grape-flavoured nicotine. "It's on us if any shit goes down, you know. God knows what that floating timer is for."
"Countdown, in minutes, to my next mental breakdown," I retorted.
He snorted and pushed his dark-brown locks away from his forehead. His hair had grown into a messy mullet — paired with his lack of shaving, Maheri looked like he had aged from 24 to 30 in the span of days. Unzipping his winter coat, he stuffed the vape into his pocket and entwined his palms around one knee.
