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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
OLMSTEAD, KENTUCKY, USA
August 23, 5:00 AM
Madison brushed her long, dark hair from her eyes. It clung to her sweaty forehead after her two-mile hike from town. She jerked open the front door to her house and stepped inside, having timed her trip to be back before the gravity shifts. The rickety screen banged shut behind her. Michael, her fifteen-year-old brother, lay on the nailed-down couch, staring longingly at his useless phone, while their dad flipped channels on the ancient tube television. For all his efforts, he received nothing but static.
Honestly, it was a miracle they still had electricity on this remote mountain because otherwise, they'd be in the dark. Literally. Before they lost all communication with the outside world, the news said they'd need to leave Kentucky and travel west of the Mississippi River to see sunlight again. That had been six days ago—right after The Event.
But her dad wouldn't leave then, and he probably wouldn't now, either. Though Madison prayed she could convince him to go, especially after what the soldiers had told her. Or . . . well, she wouldn't allow her thoughts to grow as black as the sky. Damn stupid spaceship. It had ruined her life.
To keep from screaming, she quickly put the milk and eggs in the fridge and began to pace around the house. If it could be called a house—more like a shack held together with duct tape and chipped paint. Her brother and dad watched her pace. Neither one said a word. Nor did her mother, unsurprisingly, who sat slumped in the rocking chair in the corner. She was covered in a wool blanket.
Madison made it to the far wall in five steps. She turned and paced back across the uneven floorboards. The flashlight she'd used to make the journey to the grocery store banged against her thigh with each step.
"Don't break that. It's the only one we have," her dad barked.
Rolling her eyes, she said, "So?"
"So?" Her dad retreated to his recliner. The footrest went up with a loud squeak. "So, if you break it, how are we supposed to go outside?"
"And when are you going to do that? You haven't gone outside since Mom's accident."
"That's not the point."
"That's exactly the point." She set the flashlight on the counter. "We need to leave this mountain, or we'll die."
Her dad's face turned as red as a tomato. "Stop talking that nonsense. We're not leaving our land. Not again."
"How can you say that? We're right underneath the thing. It could fall out of the sky right on our damn heads. Or shoot us with lasers. We need to evacuate. You heard the warnings before the TV stations went off. They have camps for everyone in the West. The government says we'll be safe there."
