It would be a lie if someone said we never meant to make contact with them. Not that there were any survivors that would waste their breath to.
My breath left my lips in a small cloud. I lifted my eyes to the heavens and squinted at a bright sun surrounded by beautiful white clouds. I blinked and the scene shifted to the horrible reality of the present. The sun hung low in the sky, smaller than it once was before life took an apocalyptic turn. If Earth had fallen any further from the Sun than it did, the planet would have become completely uninhabitable. The planet was barely able to sustain life anymore. Temperatures dropped drastically- most of the world was frozen over.
I continued walking, ignoring the icy winds, and remembered what I'd come for. My footsteps ceased when I reached the end of the desolate street. There, a few feet away, was the only house that still stood in the barren wasteland of ice. I shook my head and clicked my tongue. Of course.
I entered the home, small ice crystals crunching under my boots and floorboards silently protesting under my weight. Ice encased the walls and picture frames that hung from them. I wiped a nearby frame with my sleeve and peered at the photograph. Dr. Kronin, his wife Sarah, and their young daughter smiled at me. They were right. They told me I would find a clue to their whereabouts here.
In no way did Dr. Kronin play a part in the communication with HD 164595, their galaxy's power source, but he'd committed an unforgivable crime when he followed all he'd been instructed to do. He was a hated man. Recognizing this, he was intelligent enough to take his family and go into hiding.
Instinctively, I knew that the Kronins were the last ones on Earth, apart from me.
What ran through my veins told me so.
I continued treading deeper into the vacant home. After quickly scouring the living space, I came upon a hallway. Dim sunlight spilled from an open door at the end of the corridor. I curiously cocked my head to the side. It was the only open door. I tried the knob on the door beside me. It didn't budge. It was either locked, or frozen shut.
My eyes trailed downwards and fixated on the strange shadow that splayed across the floor from the open room. I cautiously continued my stride, firmly placing one foot in front of the other, and reached behind the waistband of my jeans. My fingers curled around the loaded python. Six remained of the eight-bullet round. As I did this quick calculation in my head, my thumb automatically located the gun's hammer, ready to push it down and fire at any given moment.
I silently stepped into the light of the room, steadily aiming the python in front of me and froze when I realized what stood before me. Casting a quick glance around the rest of the room, I relaxed my arms and once again tucked the Python at the back of my waistband. My attention returned to the cylinder glass tank in the middle of the room. Memories of the Immortals came into mind. It had to be one of them. Before I could overthink it, I snatched my gun from behind me, pushed down the hammer, and pulled the trigger.
My ears rung for a moment. A faint trail of smoke left the barrel. The glass tank suffered a mere fracture. I traced my fingers along the cracks. They weren't deep enough to break the tank. I stepped back once more, pushed down the hammer, and brought my eyes level with the gun's front and rear sights.
CRACK!
The second bullet pushed the first further into the glass. It would be enough. The gun's silencer sizzled for a moment as I pushed it into a small pile of snow. I ignored the cold touch of the metal against my lower back when I returned the gun to my waistband.
I walked over to the large desk near the window. There sat a paperweight that caught my eye. I tested its weight and threw it against the fractures in the glass tank. Moments later, a male body fell onto the floor along with a gush of luminescent green liquid.
