Everything Under Siege

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. But that doesn’t stop me from trying to catch someone’s attention. Anyone. From anywhere. I can’t bear to be alone much longer.

Erratically, I yell as loud as possible. “Help! Is anybody out there?”

I pause. My throat burns and my lungs feel like they’re about to collapse.

The only response I get is an echo—my desperate pleas thrown back at me like a boomerang.

The soil I’m lying upon mocks me. White and ashy. Soggy and dense. I scan my surroundings for remnants of my past life, only to find shadows threatening to annihilate my body until my soul escapes into the atmosphere.

When a tiny inchworm crawls across my wrist and then evaporates into thin air, the final ounces of hope I’m clinging to are quashed. I stare out across the emptiness, wondering how long it’s been since I’ve seen my family and praying for unknown forces to put me out of my misery.

The wildfires in California started it all. This time, they couldn’t be contained, ravaging the West and leaving Planet Earth nearly uninhabitable. The landscape before me has been permanently altered from green and lush to barren and bleak.

But humans are resilient. A select group survived, only to be swept away by the myriad of natural disasters that followed. Hurricanes, floods, landslides, tornadoes, and earthquakes. Together at one time, they claimed most of the remaining life forms—animals, plants, fungi, and bacteria— plus a few others that I read about last year in 8th-grade Biology but already can’t remember.

Mother Nature went on a real banger, and civilization paid the ultimate price.

Now I’m on my own. Cold and hungry.

And afraid.

I close my eyes and roll over onto my side, wrapping my arms around my knees and squeezing them to my chest. I hum the lullaby that Mom always sang to me at bedtime when I was younger. Why can’t I remember the words? The memory of her voice has already faded as if she’s been dead for years.

It seems like only yesterday that I watched her wave goodbye when a tsunami lifted her from our hiding spot inside the fallout shelter, sucking her toward oblivion. She reached for me and blew a kiss. And then she was gone.

**

I blink and pick at my eye boogers. My mouth is dry, and I swallow hard to generate more saliva. I must have fallen asleep. For how long, I have no clue. Stretching, I extend my arms and legs wide, wiggling my fingers and toes. I’m still here, so I start to cry.

A slow stream of tears escalates into a full-scale meltdown, but I’m tired and weak, so my tantrum doesn’t last too long. I lick my lips, and the taste of salt makes me crave French fries. The growl in my belly reminds me that it’s been days since I’ve had anything to eat. I need to get up and search for food.

Then again, why? This should all be over soon.

Without warning, a deafening rumble shakes the ground. Blinding beams of light come at me from all directions, and high-pitched voices break through the noise.

“Who’s there?” I shout. My voice is hoarse, too faint for even my own ears to hear.

I try again. “Hello! I’m here!”

I spring to my feet and step forward, sinking into a pool of what feels like quicksand. Frantically, I wave my arms over my head and try to muster up enough strength to hop into the air, hoping to increase my chances of being rescued.

But the muck around my ankles holds me down. I cross my fingers that I don’t descend any further and peer out into the nothingness, squinting to see what’s happening. The light beams sparkle…and flash…and crisscross. Like fireworks in a grand finale, the chaos overhead makes my heart pound heavy inside my chest.

“That’s enough! Make it stop!” I screech.

And before the last breath of my exhale breaks free, my demands are answered. Abruptly. Darkness overcomes the sky, and the air thickens. The rumble vanishes too. Only the chatter of piercing voices remains.

I stand tall and try to appear unafraid, but my words quiver. “Who’s out there? Please show yourself.”

I’m not sure what I expect. A spaceship to appear out of nowhere? A troop of aliens to drop from the void? Maybe it’s all a bad dream and I’m about to wake up in my own bed, with the smell of bacon wafting upstairs from the kitchen.

Suddenly, a warm breath tickles my neck. I stiffen. Someone is standing behind me. I never heard him coming.

Or her.

Or it.

And there are others. I hear them, can feel their presence.

In less than an instant, my legs unstick themselves from the earth and begin to float. This is it. I’m finally dying. Halleluiah!

A pair of rough, icy hands seize me by the elbows and steady me as I levitate higher off the ground. I’m afraid to turn around, to see who or what has taken hold of me. Am I going to heaven? Traveling into outer space? Where the hell am I headed and why can’t this torture just end?

The whisper in my ear isn’t unexpected, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard before: my language, but not my species. “Stay still. If you want to see your parents again, do what I say.”

Mom. Dad. Is it possible they’re still alive? They were stripped away by the storm before my own two eyes.

Or were they?

My mind is playing tricks on me. I’m still hoping that this is only a nightmare. That my alarm clock will ring any minute and alert me that it’s time to get ready for school.

Then it happens. The line between fantasy and reality is no longer blurred as an image of my parents behind iron bars appears. Like a movie projected on the big screen, they materialize in front of me clear as day. My mother is crying while my father holds her close. He embraces her with his big strong arms as she buries her face in his neck.

“Mom! Dad! Can you hear me? It’s Stephen! I’m coming.”

I keep yelling as they appear closer and closer. Soaring through the sky, I almost forget about the strange life form behind me—the one that I can’t see or describe.

My parents don’t look up. They can’t hear me. They have no idea I’m on my way. We’re either almost safe or on the brink of great danger. Either way, my gut finally convinces me that I’m not dreaming.

Life as we once knew it is over, and I’m not getting out of this easy.