Chapter Text
Three days. It had been three days since the sun had begun to flare and slowly burn itself into oblivion. It would be a quick death for the mighty star, but a slow one for humankind. Did we deserve it? Some believe we do, others believe that we are victims of our own doing. I don’t know what to believe just yet.
Thankfully, I had the shelter of my home to avoid any harm from the sun. Other than the fact that it is always boiling hot inside, it is an excellent shelter from the horrors that await outside. The sun, the criminals, and even worse, the visitors. As if the sun exploding was not bad enough, strange beings called visitors have begun to crawl up out of the ground, imitating humans. The news had begun to show the horrors that these visitors are capable of. Killing children in cold blood, torturing humans, tearing animals limb from limb, all for the sake of doing it. Just because they can. It made me sick to my stomach. My dumbass invited one into my home without even knowing. My dumbass had let one in.
I killed the visitor of course. She was a thin, tall woman who did not speak coherently. She traveled with a very cute feline companion too. I thought her odd way of speaking was just the trauma from everything that had happened recently, so I let her in, but after several tests on whether or not she is a visitor, I had proven that she was. I wished she was human, I so desperately wanted her to be human, but it was too late.
When I realized who she really was, I could not see her the same. A patchwork, wannabe human. A creature that wanted me to die; an animal. My optimism died that day, along with her, as I blew her torso clean off of the rest of her body with a shot from my gun. I dragged her remains outside for the sun to dispose of. I had to pick the last few bits of her organs from off of my carpet. Some of her bloodstains were visible on the floor, even though I had spent hours trying to scrub away what was left of her. All I wanted to do was forget what I had done.
It was the dawn of the third morning. I was laying in bed, staring at the wood paneled ceiling. It was just me, all by myself in this house. The blazing rays of sunlight tried to blaze through my curtains, to not much avail. A few stray beams of light made their way into my room and shined on my wall. Despite how small they were, they somehow illuminated my entire room with a dangerous golden glow. I didn’t want to get up, so I turned on the TV. Ever since things had gone to shit, only news channels had been shown. It was not nearly as distracting as a comedy show, but it would have to do for now.
The reporter on the screen spoke of FEMA, a new government body that will be handling the visitor mess. The reporter spoke solemnly, “FEMA is continuing to advise homeowners to welcome human guests inside. Though we have a place for evacuated residents to relocate, we suggest helping any lost, hurt, or scared humans. However, of course, be aware of letting in visitors. Please screen potential guests thoroughly. FEMA has a new identification trait for visitors…” The reporter went on to talk about how to identify visitors. I watched for about five minutes longer before I could not stand watching any more.
I dragged myself out of bed and went to grab myself a bowl of cereal. My neck was sore from my fitful night of sleep. Lazily, I grabbed a bowl, poured in my cereal, and finally topped it off with milk. Adjusting myself to the world’s new schedule of night being day and day being night was not easy. I still woke at my usual time in the morning, unable to sleep through the day. At night, I could stay up for a long while, but at about two or three in the morning, my exhaustion tended to catch up with me. No matter how tired I was however, I always slept terribly.
I finished my bland breakfast quickly, and I looked over to the window, longing to look out of it like I had always done. All I wanted to feel was the warm sunlight on my skin, but I would never see it as long as I lived, not anymore. I stayed awake for a few more hours, cleaning up the house and making sure that the heat had not begun to damage certain parts of the interior. I spent a little bit of time at my dad’s old piano too, trying to string together a few old melodies I had remembered from my childhood. I was never good at piano, but there was not much to do anymore, so I thought I would try picking it up again.
I played for maybe 45 minutes before closing the lid and deciding to get some sleep. There would be more people coming to my door tonight due to the recent evictions. I took an edible and fell asleep. Weed felt like the only thing that could help me get some good sleep anymore. I didn’t want to do it, it tasted like shit, but I valued my sleep, and I didn’t want to risk another restless night. Thankfully, I got some really good rest that evening, and was woken up by the sound of pounding at my front door. And so it begins.
I have been up for a few hours now. Two strangers wandered up to my doorstep so far. After yesterday’s shitshow, I was incredibly cautious of anyone who came near. I never wanted to feel the rough wood grain of my rifle ever again, never wanted to feel the violent recoil from the bullet, but I knew that I would have to. For now, I procrastinated the risk of having to kill again, and turned down the few people who came to me for shelter. Sure, I felt like shit for turning them away, but I couldn’t risk the threat of letting a visitor in ever again.
I sat on the floor facing my front door, rifle in hand. I held the gun upright and leaned against it for stability as I sat and cautiously watched the door, waiting to hear the footsteps of a new guest upon my porch. My new orange feline friend was sitting on the chair by the door, taking a pleasant late night nap. God, I wished I could just swap places with that cat. The poor thing has no clue what is happening. It is just sleeping peacefully, completely oblivious of the world crumbling around it.
Knock… Knock knock… Knock.
Four gentle raps against my door, each one more desperate than the last. My head shot up to the peephole and my shoulders tensed up. Another guest. I tightened the grip on my rifle as I stood up, making sure to be as silent as possible.
Knock knock… Knock.
The cat poked its head up, clearly annoyed by being awoken by the knocking. I slowly and cautiously strode to the door, calculating each and every step with sharp precision. I felt the weight of my body shift from the front to the back of my feet with each step, staying perfectly balanced.
Knock… Knock… KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
Jeez! The knocking was much more frantic now. I finally reached the door and straightened up my posture to look out the peephole. After adjusting my position, I came into clear view of who was upon my doorstep. I let out a gasp, nearly stumbling back from the door. It was a man. A man with his mouth sewn shut with copper wire.
He tried mumbling words to me, completely unable to make any coherent words through the wires. The stitches looked no older than a few days; this was recent. Dried blood gathered around the stitches, the sites beginning to look infected. Puss began to seep from some of them. I nearly gagged at the sight.
He had his hands around the back of his neck. He was in a panic. Was something dangerous outside? His greasy hair was jet black and his eyes wide, leaving dark bags beneath them. His clothes were dirty too, a clear sign of an… escapee or something. Despite his ragged appearance, I pitied him.
“I, um, I would ask you how I can help, but it seems like you can’t really… talk.” I spoke through the door. His eyes went wide. He looked relieved that someone had spoken to him from behind the door. He tried mumbling some more.
“Sorry, but I don’t really understand you.” He shut his eyes violently, as if he was about to cry. Could he understand me? Surely, he had to, right? The man continued to try and speak, to no avail. I had a choice to make.
He needed help, clearly. He also looks like he’s in danger. A million questions floated around in my mind, and I wanted answers badly. However, among all of the folks who had come to me tonight, he was the only one who seemed to be in desperate need of help. I mean, the infection from the wires could cause much bigger issues if it does not get treated immediately. I turned away from the door and flopped my back against the wall nearby, rifle still in hand. I put my hand on my forehead to think.
Why was his mouth sewn shut? Did the visitors do this? No, maybe he’s a visitor and a human sewed his mouth shut. Maybe someone didn’t want to hear another visitor lie to innocent humans. Shit. I wanted to believe that he was human, just like me. I went back up to the peephole and took another look at him. He was desperate out there, pacing near the door a little bit, mumbling to the door softly. A sharp sting of pity stabbed me in the heart. Me and my damn heart. I looked into his eyes. They were a bit red, clearly strained. Not a good sign, but nothing about him is a good sign.
After taking a deeper look at them, I saw the peephole in the reflection. Suddenly, I didn’t see a threat; I didn’t see an alien. I saw a man, a human. His desperation, his pain, it was so… human. In that moment, even though he never saw me, I felt how human he truly was.
With a deep sigh, I opened the door. Offering him my hand to come inside. His eyes widened in surprise, and he took it in a panic, pulling himself through the threshold of my home. He stumbled inside quicker than I could react. I shut the door quickly behind me, leaning against it. It was just he and I now. And the cat, who watched the spectacle closely.
A deafening silence filled the room as the two of us stared at each other. His deep brown eyes were almost black in the dim light of the hallway. He gazed down at me. He was not very tall, but he wasn’t short either. His wire sutures looked even worse when I had him in this light. The stitches were coated in a nasty mixture of blood, saliva, and puss. The skin around the wire was red, swollen, and heavily inflamed. God, I could only imagine how bad that hurts. I grimaced. Upon noticing my disgusted look, he covered his mouth with his hand.
We continued to observe each other. His eyes wandered upon my body for a moment before returning to my eyes. He was obviously frightened, but his eyes had a curious sparkle to them. Funny, how you could tell so much about someone from simply their eyes.
Though a world of mystery stood before me, one thing was for certain, and that was that those stitches needed to come off.