In a world ravaged by ruins, the game of hide and seek takes a scandalous turn as Macon is whisked away from Earth by two smoking-hot aliens. Brace yourself for this extraterrestrial adventure! One alien declares himself as Macon's soulmate, while t...
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The box tumbled from the highest shelf, cans clattering down in a cacophony of metallic thuds. Macon winced at the racket, watching the various cans roll to a stop across the dusty, cracked linoleum floor. She hoped she hadn't ruined too many in the process. Balancing on the precarious stack of crates, she lowered herself and leaped to the ground with a practiced agility born of necessity.
Macon sifted through the scattered cans, her hands moving with the precision of someone who had scavenged countless times before. She filled her bag with Spaghettios, baked beans, and the few cans of new potatoes that hadn't burst open. The pantry's musty air mingled with the faint, lingering smell of rot—a stark reminder of the home's long abandonment. She might as well eat what she could from the damaged cans before heading back.
Pulling a pocketknife from her jeans, she punctured a can of chicken soup. The cold, metallic taste didn't bother her; she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten something warm. Her stomach churned in anticipation as she took a few tentative sips.
Glancing around at the mess, she turned and walked out of what had once been a pristine kitchen. The peeling wallpaper and broken tiles spoke of a time when the house had been filled with life and laughter. Now, it was just another hollow shell, a ghost of the world that had been.
The second floor had been ransacked long ago, likely during the initial invasion. Sunlight streamed through shattered windows, casting eerie patterns on the debris-strewn floor. Slowly, she approached each door, nudging them open with her foot in case someone—or something—lurked behind them.
At the last door on the right, she stopped. The room, though in disarray, brought a pang of nostalgia. It reminded her of a life that had once been hers.
The robin's egg blue walls framed a canopy bed draped with tattered, dusty lace. An intact chest of drawers stood defiantly amidst the chaos. She navigated the broken glass and debris, making her way to the top drawer.
Untouched.
Her fingers brushed over the items inside—clean socks, panties, and several sports bras, preserved like relics from a bygone era. A wave of bittersweet relief washed over her. With a sense of urgency, she yanked open the second drawer, nearly tearing it from the chest.
Full—
Tears welled up as she held the clothes, realizing they might actually fit. She searched for something to carry them in and found a duffel bag shoved between the bed and nightstand, its canvas stiff and grimy.
Shaking off the grime, she unzipped the bag to find a wad of cash tied with a piece of yarn. She tossed it aside and began stuffing the clothing inside.
The trip back would be exhausting, but it had been worth it. She couldn't remember the last time one of her scavenging trips had been so fruitful.
Descending the creaking stairs, she slung her canvas bag over her shoulder, the weight of her haul a small comfort in the desolate silence. The other houses on this street looked promising, but she had more than she could carry. At the fork, she took a left onto East Avenue. The canvas bag swayed heavily as she shifted the weight, seeking refuge from the sun under the shade of Spanish oaks. Their twisted branches formed a canopy, dappling the ground with shadows. She remained vigilant, wary of the abandoned cars and trucks she passed, each one a potential hiding spot for danger.
A rustling sound in the distance made her freeze. She darted to the nearest car, slipping inside before spotting the source—two coyotes yipping as they scampered down the street.
She decided to wait until they were out of sight. The car reeked of stale air and old leather, a tomb for the remnants of a life interrupted. Fast food bags and an empty Coke bottle littered the passenger floorboard, relics of a pre-invasion normalcy.
The key was still in the ignition. It was too risky to drive, even if it would start. She eyed the glove compartment and opened it, bile rising at the sight of a government-issued ARC ticket resting atop the vehicle registration. The things she would have done for that piece of paper.
A bitter laugh escaped as she grabbed the slip.
Hugging her knees to her chest, she tried to suppress the memories. That night had been a horror. Her grandmother, too frail to fend off the strangers, had lost their only chance at salvation. Her life traded for two ARC tickets.
Alone, with no chance of salvation from the onslaught, she had witnessed every horror during those months. What humanity had done to each other had been far worse than the threat from the Aturians.
It had been nearly a year since she'd seen another person.
And that was okay.
Most survivors had settled near the mountains, forging their own cave systems. Some had tried to tunnel into the ARC itself.
But she had ventured south, stopping at the Gulf of Mexico. The salty air and crashing waves had become her constant companions, a stark contrast to the death and decay inland.
Days and weeks she had traveled.
But this—this had been worth it.
Macon lowered the bags to rest in the sand and stretched her tired body, letting the moonlight bathe her in silvery beams. Starlight danced along the expanse of the ocean as far as she could see, while the balmy air wrapped around her like a warm blanket. The gentle crash of waves was the only sound as she walked across the sand, the light breeze raising goosebumps on her delicate skin.
Crossing the empty roadway, she returned to the vacant antebellum home she had holed up in for the past six months. If she had to be alone in this terrifying world, she might as well be somewhere beautiful.
Once back inside, she made her way to the large balcony where she slept most nights. Taking in a deep breath of the salty ocean air, she let out a contented sigh. She plopped herself into the hammock, staring at the moss waving from the branches of the ancient Spanish oaks.
The light of the gas lantern flickered, casting shadows along the travertine railing. She realized just how much that simple thing had cost her. The sound of a gust overhead made her look up, and horror stabbed her like a tangible blow.
Three elliptical pods darted in front of her, near the water where she'd been only minutes ago. Her heart pounded wildly. A ringing filled her ears, and a sudden chill coursed through her body with adrenaline as she sprang to action.
"No, no, no," she thought, scrambling off the hammock and falling to the balcony floor with a thud. Panic surged through her. She willed herself to melt into the balcony, lying perfectly still, too terrified to move.
But it was too late. The pods had already made landfall on the front lawn. She crawled on hands and knees to the large double doors. Tears sprang to her eyes as she attempted to slow her panicked breaths.
Three voices rang out below. Though speaking with a strange accent, they spoke perfect English.
"You said yourself you were taking her... tonight. And if you don't, I am," one voice said, almost playfully, but was met with an animalistic snarl.
They had come for her? They'd known she was here. But for how long? The answer erupted in her mind: too long.
A knock on the door below caused her to jump. "What the heck?" she thought. "Since when do aliens knock?"
She remained completely still, huddled next to the door on the second-story balcony. Minutes seemed to stretch into hours as she listened for footsteps. Maybe they would leave if they thought she had fled. She held her breath and kept perfectly still.
Moments later, Macon heard the wooden staircase creak with the weight of footsteps. Silence lingered for a minute or two before the door she was leaned against was pulled open, causing her to fall backwards. Her head smacked against the hardwood with a thud.
Slightly dazed, she stared up into the eyes of the first alien she'd ever seen. HIS features were striking, a blend of the familiar and the alien, with luminous skin and eyes that seemed to hold galaxies within them. Something within Macon hummed to life.
