David, Bobby, and I stood in silence, our eyes fixed on the window. The sky, once filled with the steady hum of aircraft, now stretched above us in eerie calm. There were no planes, no ships—only an empty void, the vast expanse seeming to mock the chaos below. The air felt dense, suffused with the aftershock of whatever had just happened, thick with a silence that settled over everything like a blanket. Distant screams filtered through the quiet, faint and disembodied, reminders of the destruction that had unfolded. Across the street, the house that had once been full of life was now a heap of charred rubble. Its skeletal frame was barely standing, twisted metal and broken wood jutting out from the pile. And yet, despite the destruction, the world outside appeared strangely normal, as if time had simply paused but not ended.
Tony clutched his army man tightly in one hand, his thumb resting in his mouth as he stood by the window, eyes wide. The toy had always been his comfort, even before all this started. Right now, it seemed like the only thing keeping him grounded in the chaos. He didn’t say anything, but his small form—so still in the middle of all this madness—spoke volumes. Tony didn’t understand what was going on, but he knew enough to be scared. And in his own way, he was trying to hold onto something that still felt safe.
David broke the tension first, his voice sharp and light, trying to cut through the suffocating seriousness. “Well, that was fun,” he said, looking around with a wry grin. “And it’s such a coincidence that all our parents aren’t around to witness this,” he added, motioning to the wreckage and chaos. “Talk about bad timing, huh?”
I couldn’t help but let out a breath, the nervous energy in my chest lightened just a little by his words. That was David. He was the joker, the one who always had something funny to say—even when the world was falling apart.
When we were little, David and I would sleep in the same room. We’d play with our Hot Wheels long after Mom thought we were asleep, and David would crack jokes, do funny impressions, or just fart to make me laugh. No matter how bad my asthma was, no matter how tight my chest felt, David always knew how to get me to smile.
There were so many memories like that. Like the time we were at Grandma’s house and ended up walking to 6:30 p.m. mass together, even though we could’ve skipped it. It was a half-hour mass, and we never really thought about avoiding it. We’d walk there side by side, making jokes along the way. But when we got to church, David, in his usual fashion, would do something goofy—like let out a fart just as the priest started his sermon.
We'd try to keep it together, but it was impossible. We’d both start laughing uncontrollably, and I remember one time, the old man sitting in front of us turned around and asked, “What’s so funny?” That just made us laugh harder.
And even now, in the middle of all this chaos, David was still trying to make me laugh, still trying to find something to make the unbearable seem just a little bit lighter. It was his way of coping, and for me, it was like breathing again. David was always there to remind me that not everything in life had to be so serious.
A brief, nervous laugh escaped me, but it didn’t last. The weight of the situation quickly returned, and I was reminded that this wasn’t just some nightmare we’d wake up from. This was real.
Bobby, though, wasn’t smiling. His jaw was clenched, his gaze distant, focused on something only he could see. Then, without warning, he turned to us, his voice cutting through the air with determination.
“No more distractions,” Bobby said, his tone sharp, authoritative. “We’re not here to stand around and make jokes. We need a plan. Andy and Dan are gone. We can’t afford to waste time.”
His words were like a cold splash of water to the face. There was no room for hesitation, no more jokes. Bobby had shed his uncertainty. He had taken charge, as the older brother rightfully should. Although the irony wasn’t lost on me—just a couple of days ago, he was on top of me, pounding on my back, laughing as if nothing serious ever happened, all while Mom and Dad had gone out to eat. And here we were, relying on him to lead us.
It hit me harder than I expected. Bobby had been the one to pick on me, the one who had pushed me around when life felt safe and predictable. Now, we needed him to lead us through the chaos. It was strange, a flip of the world I hadn’t asked for but couldn’t avoid. The weight of responsibility sat heavy on him, but it was clear—he wasn’t backing down.
“Let’s go,” Bobby said, his voice low and firm. There was no sign of the brother who once teased me; instead, there was a man who understood the gravity of the situation. He wasn’t just our older brother anymore. He was our leader.
And we had no choice but to follow.
“ But We better not start moving just yet,” Bobby said, his voice steady, cutting through the air with clarity. “We need to get our bearings, figure out what the hell is going on. And yeah, those things are probably gone for now, but there’s no guarantee they won’t be back. We can’t afford to sit around and wait for them to show up again, but we also can’t rush into anything. Stay put, stay hidden, and we survive this—together.”
He paused by the window, his eyes slowly drifting upward, searching the sky as though hoping for a sign, waiting for them to return. Outside, people were scattered across the street, some with their heads tilted back, their eyes locked on the emptiness above. A few shuffled aimlessly, as if caught between disbelief and a desperate search for answers, their faces etched with confusion and fear. The house across the street, once a symbol of warmth and familiarity, now lay in ruin. The debris seemed to tell its own story: shattered windows, walls torn away, and the roof caved in as though something immense had come down with brutal force, tossing the building aside like a child’s toy. A small crowd gathered in front, some pointing at the wreckage, others pacing, calling out to loved ones whose voices could no longer be heard.
"And, honestly, I still don't get it. They were here one minute, and then gone the next. Just like that. That doesn't sit right with me," Bobby muttered, his eyes scanning the chaos. "I can't help but think we’re missing something... maybe they’re watching us. Waiting for something."
His words struck me harder than I expected, but what got me thinking more than anything was how easily they had disappeared. It felt off, like there was something we didn’t understand about them. And as I watched my brothers, the thought lingered—maybe it was time to share with them my secret, the one I had kept buried for far too long.
Suddenly, a siren wailed in the distance, slicing through the stillness. Then another. And another. The chaotic symphony of emergency vehicles—ambulances, fire trucks, police cars—grew louder, each one racing down Merkey Road. The sound was suffocating, a reminder that the world outside was a storm of confusion, panic, and fear.
I turned and glanced out the window next to Bobby, catching sight of the chaos unfolding. People were scrambling, shouting, running—voices filled with uncertainty. Footsteps pounded the ground, and I could hear someone crying out for help. The weight of it all pressed in on us, and my mind raced. We didn’t need to be caught up in this. Not now. Not with the chaos still fresh and the danger still unknown.
Bobby grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of view from the window.
Just as my heart began to hammer against my chest, a sharp knock echoed through the door—loud, commanding, and impossible to ignore. A voice followed, cutting through the silence.
Tony was still standing behind the curtain, too close to the window, unaware of the danger outside. His thumb was in his mouth, and his little army man was tightly gripped in his hand. I rushed over, yanked him away from the window, and positioned him in front of the door to keep us hidden. My heart pounded as I followed David and Bobby into the kitchen, desperate to stay out of sight—not just from the police, but from anything else that could be out there, like the aliens who might decide to check back in on us.
I froze. The tension in my body spiked. Bobby’s eyes met mine, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. The police. The last thing we needed was to get caught up in whatever chaos was unfolding outside. We had no idea what was happening beyond Merkey Road, but we sure as hell didn’t want to be dragged into it.
Panic hit me in a wave. Crap. Hopefully, he didn’t spot us while we were at the window. But then again, he was calling out, “Anyone inside?” Maybe we were still hidden. Tony, oblivious, was standing just behind the curtain, thankfully out of view. His thumb still in his mouth, his army man clutched tightly in his other hand, lost in his own world. I pulled him away from the curtain and close to me, positioning him in front of the door to keep us out of sight. My heart raced as I followed David and Bobby into the kitchen, trying to stay as far out of view as possible. We needed to keep a low profile—not just from the police, but from anything else that could be lurking, like the aliens who might decide to check back in on us.
David, as if reading my mind, glanced toward the door nervously, then back to Bobby. “What do we do?” he whispered, voice tight.
Bobby’s gaze never wavered from the door. “We don’t open it. We don’t talk to them. We don’t get caught up in whatever the hell is going on out there. We get out, and we keep moving.”
His words were firm, and I could see the resolve in his eyes. This wasn’t just some teenage fear. This was real. We weren’t ready to face whatever the police might bring. We weren’t ready to get stuck in a mess we couldn’t control.
David cracked a smile, his usual grin breaking through the tension like sunlight through clouds. “So, we’re just gonna walk into the unknown? Sounds like the beginning of a really bad action movie.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, forcing a grin as I shook my head. “You’re right. It’s like one bad movie after another. But, seriously, we gotta go?”
“Follow me, and keep it tight,” Bobby ordered. “We move fast, no looking back. We survive this—together.”
We followed him to the back of the house, out the back door. Bobby peered around the corner, his eyes scanning the yard. I stepped up next to him and peered through the window of the backyard. A swing set sat in the middle of the yard, the grass a little too long, and the dirt under the swing was worn smooth—evidence of countless kids swinging through summers long past.
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