Seven years had passed.
The wind that swept across the cemetery was cool and quiet, carrying the faint scent of wet grass. Alex stood before the twin gravestones — his parents' names now worn slightly by the weather. He had grown taller, leaner, his once-bright eyes now older, thoughtful.
He brushed the dirt off the base of the stone and gave a small, tired smile.
"Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad," he said softly. "It's been a while."
His voice was steady, but his chest felt heavy.
"I'm sixteen now. Aunt Anna still nags a lot," he said with a small chuckle, "but… she means well. I've been doing fine in school. I guess you'd be proud of that."
He sighed and placed two fresh lilies in front of the gravestone.
"I still think about that day," he whispered. "I keep wondering if I could've done something. If I'd just—"
His phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. He pulled it out and saw the name on the screen: Felicity.
He smiled faintly and answered. "Hey, stranger."
"Stranger?" she laughed. "I've been gone for two years, not ten!"
"Well, it feels like it," he said, sitting on the grass. "When are you coming back?"
"Today actually," she said. "My flight lands in a few hours. I'll finally get to see your grumpy face again."
Alex laughed. "Guess I'll have to prepare my insults then."
They talked a while longer — jokes, memories, small silences that said more than words could. When they finally hung up, Alex felt a little lighter.
He stared back at the gravestone one last time. "She's coming back, Mom. You'd be happy to know that."
Before he could say more, his phone rang again — this time, Aunt Anna.
"Hey, Aunt Anna," he said.
"Alex, where are you?" her warm but worried voice asked.
"I'm… visiting," he replied quietly.
She sighed. "You're at the cemetery again, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"Well, don't stay out too long, sweetheart. Come home soon. We'll have dinner and—" she paused "—and celebrate your birthday, okay?"
Alex smiled faintly. "Alright. I'll be there soon."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He hung up, brushed the dirt from his jeans, and began walking toward the bus stop. The sun was dipping lower now, painting the clouds gold and orange.
The bus ride home was quiet. Alex sat by the window, earpiece in, watching the city pass by — streets lined with trees, people laughing, the world moving on. He let the music fill his mind, a soft escape from everything.
Then — BANG!
The bus jolted violently to a stop. Screams erupted. Alex's headphones flew from his ears.
"What's going on?" someone shouted.
The driver stood, pointing through the windshield. "Look!"
Alex turned — and his breath caught in his throat.
The sky was breaking.
Small, metallic crafts — no bigger than cars — descended through the clouds, glowing with harsh blue light. They weren't like anything he'd ever seen. Each one hovered with a strange hum that rattled his bones. Beams of energy shot down, striking buildings, tearing through cars, sending fire and smoke into the streets.
"Oh my God…" someone gasped.
People were shouting, crying, scrambling to get off the bus.
"Run! RUN!" a man yelled.
The door swung open, and chaos poured in — smoke, screams, panic.
Alex stumbled out with the others. The air smelled of burning metal and ozone. All around him, people ran in every direction — mothers clutching children, men dragging the injured, voices overlapping in pure terror.
"Mommy!" a small boy cried out. A woman pulled him close just as a laser blast tore through a nearby wall, scattering debris.
Alex ducked behind a car, heart pounding. He peered up at the sky — the ships were closer now, scanning the ground with blinding lights. Every second, more explosions echoed across the city.
Aunt Anna.
The thought hit him like lightning. She was at home. Alone.
He pushed himself up and started running.
The streets were chaos. Flames burned from overturned cars. People lay wounded, crying for help. Soldiers — or maybe police — were shouting, trying to direct survivors. But the aliens' shots came faster than anyone could react.
"Keep moving!" someone yelled.
Alex darted through the smoke, coughing. His lungs burned. He turned a corner — and froze.
Dead end.
"Crap," he whispered, spinning around.
A sudden burst of light exploded against the wall beside him. A laser. Then another.
He dove behind a garbage bin, his heart slamming in his chest. The metallic footsteps — soft, clicking sounds — grew closer. Through the rising smoke, he could see their silhouettes: tall, slender figures with glowing visors and strange armor. Their language was harsh and mechanical, like static.
"Come on… come on…" he whispered, gripping the edge of the bin.
The aliens turned the corner, scanning the alley. One of them raised its weapon.
Alex's muscles tensed.
Now.
He lunged forward, slamming into the nearest alien with all his strength. They crashed to the ground, the weapon sliding away. Alex scrambled, grabbed the gun — it hummed, alive in his hands — and fired wildly.
A beam of light burst from the barrel, striking the alien square in the chest. The creature screamed — a horrible, distorted sound — and fell limp. Another turned toward him, but Alex fired again, hitting it before it could shoot.
The alley fell silent except for his heavy breathing. The air smelled of burned metal and ozone.
He stared at the strange weapon in his hands, trembling. "What the hell is happening?"
Then the sound of distant explosions snapped him back to reality.
He dropped the gun, turned, and ran.
He didn't stop — not when another ship screamed overhead, not when the sky lit up with fire. He ran because there was only one thought in his mind:
Get home. Save Aunt Anna.
The sun was sinking fast, and the city behind him was burning.