Yeager Chronicles: After Extinction

18: Cade

He purposely avoided going outside, though not because of what he saw with Crosshairs and Drift. It was getting colder out and he didn't want to, not like he really needed to anyway. He had what little he needed to survive. Joshua had sent out small shipments to his property bringing food and little trinkets, ones he's never use on a usual day, some money. If anything, Joshua had being practically paying for Cade's living expenses. But after five years, he just was used to it.

Right now, he sat upside down on the recliner, head where his feet should have been. It was actually comfortable for his back even with his blood rushing to his head, but then again, it wasn't the smallest position an old man should be in. Dirty, week old socks clung to his ankles as he adjusted to have his bum square with the back of the recliner and feet dangle off the back. This had become a common spot for him since he started staying inside.

His quiet dwellings were interrupted by a thump at the door. He couldn't tell who it was but stayed there. "Yeah?" He yelled from his upside down state. When the mecha on the other side spoke he knew exactly who it was, though it sounded warmer than usual but with a hint of something that Cade couldn't place. "Hey, there's something going on not too far from here. Throw on that television of yours." He groaned, half letting himself slide and half falling out of the chair. His shoulders scraped the wooden floor and grimaced when his tailbone his the ground. "What's wrong with your radio? Can't you listen in?" he asked as he slowly lifted his body. He swore when his hip popped. Hound hummed, or growled, Cade again wasn't sure. As he walked over to the kitchen (because that's where the remote was) he looked out the window beside the front door. The large gray mech looked at him with old and weary optics. "I would but, like, it's static. Something's jammin' it," he stated blandly.

Cade groaned and continued to find the remote. Just as he thought, on the island in the center of everything with the small, insignificant box with buttons. Funny how something so small could be important, or if at all useful for anything. (Though, the Author admits that she's little weirded out that she called a remote a 'box with buttons'; perhaps she's a little terrified as well. What is this world coming to?!) (Ignore that child... she digresses.)

He took it and returned to his still warm seat, sitting on the edge. It buzzed to life, showing the company logo before doing anything else. As it hung from the wall, he still had to wait for the cable box to power on, too. It certainly took its time booting, causing the screen to go black and a blue cube in the corner saying what station it was on. Apparently, it was still on the news.

There was a man that looked rather burly, dark skin with dark, trusting eyes, with straight up black hair, who was in a clean looking room. When Cade read the bottom of the screen it started to make more sense, Space Center Houston. What the hell's going on? He turned it up so it wasn't just a mumble on the other side of the room. "-believe that you've spotted a UFO?" the man asked. The camera panned over to the one being interviewed. The absolute definition of nerd that still lives with his mother, thick glasses with messy brunette hair, who seemed a bit ruffled. "We b-believe so, yes! The object entered the atmosphere estimated about s-six hours ago," he stuttered. Six hours ago? "Is it safe to assume that the debris could be anywhere?"

"No, Mr. Spilgele. Based solely on when my t-team saw it enter, and how it correlated with everything, it should be landing somewhere along the border of New Mexico and Texas." The man looked shocked, continuing to eye him. Even Cade was transfixed to what this person (who was probably fresh out of the engineering program) was about to say. "It does not look like it is of this world."

What neither the reporter, the kid, or Cade expected was clusters of men dressed in black, to tackle the kid down. The reporter was next, but he ran. And the Camera Guy followed until he was forced down, too, breaking the video feed. There were not initials for anything to identify them. No CIA. No FBI. No NSA. Nothing. "What the shit?" There was a moment of yelling before it was completely cut, redirecting to a woman in a dogtooth blazer whose face was in looking on in horror. "And now let's go to break!" She practically squealed, terror in her eyes. The news was now going to be on a continuous commercial break.