“Hold up… you work at Rat E. Cheddar’s, and you have a goddamn Ducati?!"

  "So? I like nice things."

  We were in an underground parking garage, staring at Sola’s red and black Ducati Diavel. It was pure badassery on two wheels. The vanity plate read: "N-FUEGO."

  She flicked the kickstand up, then pointed at her T-shirt. "I’m a 'Premium Bish,' remember?"

  She smirked and swung a leg over the bike. "You coming?"

  I wedged in behind her. It was a tight fit. My crotch ended up right against her ass. I wasn’t complaining.

  She glanced back with a knowing smile. "Comfy back there?”

  "Yeah. I’m good."

  “I’ll bet.”

  "Hang on," Sola warned as she revved the engine. "She goes fast."

  VROOM… VROOM…

  I wrapped my arms around her—half enjoying it… half feeling like a little bitch. I tried to play it cool.

  “ Hey, this isn’t so ba—“

  VRRROOOOOOOOM!

  “—AAAAAAUUUGHHHH!"

  We rocketed out of the garage. I lurched backward, clutching her tighter, fighting gravity and my dignity in equal measure.

  I couldn’t help it. A high pitch yelp escaped my throat. I was instantly embarrassed. Sola peeked back again, laughed, and shook her head. “You’re a funny bird, Sam Wynbrook.”

  ----

  On the streets, we faced the sheer magnitude of the devastation. We snaked around City Hall as the battered remains of downtown Philly greeted us like a carnival of rot.

  Earlier, this block had been alive with weekend shoppers, street performers, and food trucks. People had been laughing and smiling, eating soft pretzels and cheesesteaks.

  But, now…?

  The aftermath spread out before us like a butcher’s table—full of sharp metal and bloody meat.

  Sola threaded the motorcycle through a maze of mangled steel and flesh. Charred corpses slumped in gridlocked cars, their flesh fused to melted upholstery. Blackened, overturned buses lay frozen in time, windows full of skeletal hands grasping for an escape that never came.

  A couple of times I had to fight the urge to puke.

  Warbling sirens groaned in the distance as panicked survivors clawed through the ruins, wailing, searching for the remains of loved ones. Others scrambled by, like newly-exposed insects seeking cover.

  News and police helicopters thundered by overhead, taking a survey of the damage.

  The hailstorm of metal trunks had punched through the city like the fist of a wrathful god, smashing through glass, brick, and bone without discrimination. The air was thick with the stench of scorched metal and burnt plastic.

  The skyscrapers stood, weary, pockmarked with holes, their steel guts spilling onto the streets. Some still burned, thick black smoke curling skyward, drawn toward the dark vortex above.

  It churned like a festering wound in the fabric of reality, the edges writhing like some unnatural, spreading infection. At its core, the vortex dilated—pulsing open like a cosmic birth canal.

  A portal.

  Shimmering light bled through, shifting and twisting, as if stars were collapsing on themselves, devouring their own existence.

  Military jets circled from a distance, keeping watch like curious bugs.

  “Hold on!” Sola shouted.

  She swerved the bike to the right, hopping a curb and—

  WHAM!

  —narrowly avoided a smoldering 18-wheeler as it careened into the side of a building. The Ducati sped off as a huge explosion erupted behind us. I peeked back as a raging fireball bloomed into the sky.

  “Holy shit!”

  ----

  Mom’s neighborhood was no better. It was like riding through a horror diorama. North Broad Street was a tragic portrait of modern life, abruptly terminated.

  There were vehicle pile-ups… a singed, city bus wrapped around a telephone pole… abandoned cars and spilled suitcases cluttering the streets. Torn, bloodied clothes flapped on downed power lines. The smell of death and spilled gasoline filled the air.

  Frenzied parents sprinted, carrying screaming children in their arms, seeking safe haven. But there was none to be found. Destruction was everywhere.

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  And then there were the bodies. So many bodies.

  Torsos dangling out of windows, some stripped of skin—bones jutting through, guts spilling below like spaghetti.

  Sola gasped—

  “Oh my God…”

  —seeing a charred mother’s corpse, draped over her baby carriage. Its wheels spun lazily in the wind.

  I spotted a sheared-off face, stuck to a stop sign—the torn edges of skin burnt like an old photograph—mouth frozen in a silent, eternal scream.

  Many of the corpses were crushed flat, in craters beneath metal trunks—the sides of which, bloomed with popped sacks of boneless jelly and meat.

  We reached my mother’s apartment building and parked. The brick facade was marred with soot, gutted with holes from fallen chests. Smoke bled from its ruptured frame.

  We climbed off the bike and stared up at the smoldering edifice. It looked unsteady, as though it might topple at any moment. I clenched my fists, steeling myself as I took the first step. Sola grabbed me, pulling me close in a surprising moment of affection.

  “Be careful,” she warned.

  I looked at her and nodded, then walked up the steps and ducked inside the smoky front doors.

  I entered a veil of darkness. My heart pounded through my chest. The air was thick and heavy. I paused for a minute, trying to let my eyes adjust to the darkness.

  “Hello? Is anyone in here?” I called out, my voice echoing down the hallways.

  The silence was eerie and oppressive. I took a cautious step forward, my footfall lost in shadow. The black seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions like an ocean of ink. The only reprieve were the intermittent sparks from exposed wires in the walls. I heard wailing in the distance, along with the occasional scream. My pulse quickened.

  “Hello?” I said again. “Who is that?! Are you okay?!”

  No one answered.

  The stillness of the dark was unsettling. I felt as if I were wandering the ruins of a long-dead planet, abandoned to shadow and silence. Sweat beaded my forehead. A shiver ran down my spine, raising the small hairs on my neck.

  I fumbled my phone, dropping it to the floor. I felt around, found it, and turned on its flashlight. The small beam glowed dimly, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. My mind played tricks on me as I thought I saw some of them move.

  The meager cone of light did little to dispel the darkness, but it was enough to reveal a narrow path ahead.

  Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and moved onward, each step drawing me further into the void.

  The elevator was dead. The buttons didn’t illuminate and the doors were jammed shut. I made my way up the emergency exit stairwell. The steps were littered with spilled toys and clothes—evidence of families who had scrambled to get their loved ones out. I hoped that they made it to safety.

  I reached the 6th floor, where my mom’s apartment was. I coughed, batting my way through the noxious fumes of melted housewares. I reached the apartment door and was surprised to find it cracked open. I pushed it inward.

  “Mom? Hello?”

  There was no answer. I stepped inside, slow and steady.

  “Mom, you in here?”

  I walked down the front hallway and turned into the kitchen. That’s when I saw her and my stomach dropped and turned to ice.

  She had been sitting at the kitchen table wrapping a birthday present for me. Now her chair was overturned, her body crushed by a fallen metal trunk. This one projected a glowing whistle icon.

  I broke down in tears.

  I was torn between terror and sorrow. Seeing the half-wrapped gift on the table reminded me that despite her imperfections, my mother still cared. And now she was gone.

  I flinched as a hand touched my shoulder. It was Sola.

  “Oh no! That’s her?”

  I nodded, tearfully.

  “I’m so sorry.” She pulled me into an embrace, guiding my face away.

  ----

  We sat on the curb outside. I reached inside the gift box and pulled out a card. Sola read it for me.

  “Never stop dreaming. Happy Birthday. Love, Mom.”

  I took the card from her and stuffed it inside my rucksack. I reached back inside the gift box and pulled out a silver necklace with a gamepad charm.

  I broke down, burying my head in Sola’s lap. Surprised, she gently rubbed my back, “At least she didn’t suffer.”

  I nodded. I raised my head, wiped my face, and stared at the silver necklace and charm.

  “Here, let me help you,” she said.

  Sola took it and draped it around my neck, fastening the clasp.

  “There. It looks good on you.”

  I peered into her eyes. “Thanks.”

  The moment hung in awkward silence. I cleared my throat and pulled a battery operated shortwave radio out of my rucksack.

  “Mom always kept this for emergencies. Said it was my grandpa’s.”

  I clicked it on and worked the dial until static gave way to a crackling broadcast signal:

  “… of the emergency broadcast system. This is not a test. President Warfield has issued the following message to the nation and world at large.”

  “My fellow Americans and citizens of the world, at approximately 10:53 a.m. Eastern Standard Time, a global event transpired that has affected us all. Foreign objects from an unidentifiable source have fallen and caused mass destruction in all major cities across the Earth. I want to assure you all, our military is prepared and is, at this very moment, launching a counter-strike operation to survey and deter any further loss of life. Until we can determine the origin of these objects and the severity of threat that remains, we are advising all citizens to take shelter indoors and remain tuned to this channel for further updates. We have faced colossal threats before and have come out victorious, and we shall do so again.”

  I clicked the radio off. Sola and I exchanged glances.

  “What do you think is happening?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  I was startled by the sudden roar of fighter jets scrambling overhead. We rose to our feet as the ground rumbled beneath us.

  “It’s an aftershock,” I said.

  The sidewalk flexed and the street cracked. Up above, the jets spiraled out of control.

  “Oh no!” Sola gasped.

  The jets careened out of sight and exploded in the distance with a loud boom. Smoke and flames drifted on the horizon. Then, there was a new sound—low and resonant—the hum of unearthly engines.

  We looked at the swirling vortex in the sky. The portal was completely open—and spaceships were entering Earth’s atmosphere.

  ----

  As they descended beneath the clouds, the spacecraft became more visible and defined. They gleamed of dark metal, their shapes—conical, with flared edges and thrusters propelling them forward. The ships kept coming through the portal. One after another. There were thousands of them. Tiny, reflective glints—entering Earth’s airspace and dispersing across the globe.

  “Turn the radio back on,” Sola said.

  I clicked the dial. Static crackled and the broadcast resumed.

  “…reports of UAP sightings… that’s unidentified anomalous phenomena… spotted all across the planet. We are standing by to hear if President Warfield will be giving a follow-up address. Again, we repeat, according to associate news agencies around the world, there have been numerous sightings…”

  I shut the radio off.

  “There’s way more going on than what they’re saying. We need to see where those ships are headed.”

  Sola tapped on my leather holsters containing the pizza cutters.

  “Whoa. Hold on there, cowboy. We don’t know who or what’s in those ships. Besides… all you’ve got is pizza cutters, a plant, and a radio.”

  I nodded, “Yeah.”

  My expression grew more resolute. “But whoever they are… they killed my mom.”

  I drew a pizza cutter and twirled it, mind lost in thought. It was magic in my hands—spinning with the precision of a master gunman. I slammed it back in the holster.

  “Shit… I just… I can’t let it go.”

  Sola studied my eyes, full of pain and anguish. She nodded.

  “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

  She hopped on the Ducati. I slid in behind her.