We were flown back overseas to get treatment in America. My eyes were patched up while I was under a sedative, and the painkillers they gave me were a lifesaver. I had almost forgotten the luxury of being clean, and I felt like a new man with a shower and fresh bandages over my eyes. In many ways, I was one.

I was sitting in my hospital bed when I heard someone walk into the room, and I turned my head. It was still disconcerting to know someone was there but not be able to see them.

“Cain.” The man cleared his throat. “How are you doing?”

“Sergeant. I’m as well as I can be. Why are you here?” I heard Macbeth pull up a chair, taking a seat next to the bed.

“I was given only a day to visit on my request," he told me. "I just wanted to know that you're okay, and let you know that you’re being medically discharged. Honorably, of course. You’ll get all your VA benefits and some disability compensation. I’m not sure how much.”

“I appreciate it.” There was a long pause, and Macbeth started shifting uncomfortably.

“Look, I’m sorry you had to go through that. I never would have thought this would happen to you guys.”

“I’m assuming you had this same conversation with the others?” I asked him. Despite myself, indignation began to well up in me.

“Well, yes, but—”

“Where were you, sergeant? You were supposed to be in contact at all times.”

“We were compromised as well. I tried to send out a warning, but the comms weren’t working. We exchanged fire, but by the time they retreated, they had taken you four with them. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t respond; the explanation made sense. I could only blame myself for not being as alert as I could’ve been.

Macbeth let out a heavy sigh, and I could only imagine him dropping his head to his hand. “I’m your sergeant. I wish I had done more. I never thought this would happen; it was only supposed to be a small recon mission.”

I’d have bet his eyes had started to get misty. Macbeth had always sort of looked like an overgrown hound dog when he got sad. It was odd for a man of his station to get emotional, but he was also the biggest hardass I knew. He had been a good leader, and I could only respect him.

“I know. I don’t blame you.”

A heavy hand fell to my shoulder. “Thank you, Cain. You’re a good man, and it was an honor to serve with you. You reach out whenever you need something, alright?”

“I will, sergeant. Thank you.” He stood up, the chair creaking.

“There’s been some talk going on, and I have no doubt the four of you will receive a Purple Heart. It’s only fair, considering what you’ve been through. You rest easy now, you hear?”

I held up my hand in farewell, a small grin on my face. As he exited, his steps were brisk, and I appreciated that. Once goodbyes were said, lingering had no purpose.

Resting back on my pillows, I turned my head in the direction I imagined a window would be. In my mind, I conjured up birds flying through the air, some even tapping on the glass. Clouds moved faster than I could track, changing every second. A plane crashed in the distance, sending plumes of smoke into the air and tainting the blue sky. It turned completely gray as ash-like snow began to fall. I imagined opening my mouth to catch a flake, and tasting blood. All nightmares start as dreams, after all.

Yet when I let the fantasies fade, there was only darkness. There was nothing else to it, only emptiness. I could shine no light to illuminate what had been left of my world and my mind. Perhaps my impairment was only revealing what had been there the whole time. That emptiness was now my only friend and family, keeping me company even in my sleep.

“Light it up,” I murmured.

“Burn it down,” he answered.

The emptiness let its presence be known.

***

I had never owned a home. Throughout my life, I had deemed hotels sufficient when I was not overseas, and I had never stayed in them long. My most permanent place of residence had been my grandparent's home, but even then, that had not been mine.

So as I stood in my apartment, placed on the first floor for my convenience, I did not know what my next course of action should be. Usually, one would explore, yes?

Macbeth had told me that it would be completely furnished, and I was given a phone tailored for the blind.

A soft weight pushed against my leg, briefly startling me. I had almost forgotten about her. Through the VA, I had been given a service dog named Mya, and a caretaker had told me she was a black lab, though that now meant little to me. I had also been told that not only would Mya help me with finding my way around, she was also trained to handle any PTSD that I might deal with.

I had never owned a dog, either. I leaned down to brush a hand over her soft head, and she nudged me again, quietly whining. I realized her intent as she encouraged me inside, probably wondering what I was doing just standing around.

She led me through three rooms and the large living area. There was a bathroom and two bedrooms: one with a bed and dresser, and the other holding a desk and a computer. Running my hands along the marble countertop back in the main room, I then moved to a fabric couch. Mya was a constant presence at my side.

I sat down, Mya jumping up next to me. I felt for the remote to the Television I had discovered, turning it on. Cable was already set up, and I blasély listened as a news channel droned on.

***

Life was a struggle. Learning braille has eased some of my troubles, but it was hard. It was like learning a new language, and I was still slow with translating. I had groceries delivered every week, and every two weeks, a cleaning service would come. The extra bedroom had been turned into a gym, and it barely helped with the restlessness that had returned.

My life was aimless.

Sometimes I would turn, and not know where I was. Other times, I would wake up gasping for air, desperately searching for a light I could turn on. Mya had been my savior, in that regard. The caring dog was always there, and I found that my favorite position to sleep was on the couch with her next to me, my arm thrown over her side. The bed was still too soft, and I could never find sleep on it.

Navigating environments has become easier. I was completely used to my home, and I found when I left my apartment, it was less challenging to tell where people were. I had likened it to missions that had been common when I had been in the military. Everybody made a sound when they moved, no matter how slight. If I listened close enough, I could make out where they were, and move around the targets accordingly.

Making my way down the street next to my apartment building, I headed to my usual stop. I had started to grow out my hair from its buzzcut, and it brushed against my neck and forehead. I wore my regular sunglasses and outfit of combat boots, army pants, and a t-shirt. The sunglasses were to keep people from staring too hard. It seemed people were curious to know what a blind man’s eyes looked like, and they lessened the number of people who openly stared. I could feel the gazes, vividly. They were crawling ants exploring my face and they burned holes into my skin. They noticeably decreased when I wore glasses. Perhaps I was just imagining them.

I stepped into the small convenience store on the corner, going straight to the counter. The place had a distinct smell of plastic, chemicals, and soda, and my feet always slightly stuck to the floor.

“Can I get a pack of Marlboro's?” I asked as I fished out some cash from my pocket.

“So the regular, Cain?” I had learned the worker’s name two months after moving in. Cathy was a middle-aged woman, and she had recently told me she had a daughter in junior high.

“Yeah. Can I get a coke too, please?”

“Sure thing. It’s a little hot out today, huh?” Her voice became distant as she moved, and I heard the bell over the door ring as another customer entered.

I gave Cathy the money once she came back, pocketing the cigs and change as I grabbed the drink with the arm that held Mya’s leash. I believed Cathy took the right amount of money every time, as she always said that she needed her job too much to lose it over some blind vet.

“Thanks. See you around.” I smirked in her direction, and her laugh followed me out the door.

Walking for two blocks, I reached a park I had discovered after playing around with online maps. Sitting at my usual bench, I let Mya off her leash to run around the expansive field. I could trust her, and she always came back when I whistled.

I took out a cigarette and lit it, and the lighter flaring to life was accompanied by the usual whispering in my ear. I had started smoking out of curiosity, and it had become a therapeutic hobby surprisingly quickly. Slowly killing myself with the benefit of a pleasant buzz did odd things to my mind. I relaxed into the bench, throwing an arm along the back.

Distantly, I listened to Mya coming in and out of earshot, panting and barking at who knows what. Our park time was the only time she let herself slightly ignore her responsibilities, though I know she always kept a close eye on me, never going far.

Popping open my can of coke, I let the overbearing sweetness burn my mouth and throat. To me, it was almost like drinking chemicals. But I guess it wasn’t any worse than inhaling them.

A wave of vertigo suddenly hit me, and I groaned as the soda can fell from my hands. My ears rang, making me nauseous. Mya’s barking became fainter, and then I heard nothing. I was in nothing. I was not standing, nor sitting, and the air around me was empty. I could not move freely, and I idly thought that this is what it must be like to be in space.

As soon as it happened, it ended. My feet touched the ground, and my stomach was pulled down by gravity, making it twist painfully.

Dropping to a crouch, I placed a hand on the ground, gathering my bearings. I could not hear Mya. The ground was no longer covered in grass; it had been replaced by dirt and plants. The only thing I could hear was the wind whistling through trees and the occasional call of a bird.

Then suddenly, a voice spoke.

[Per section 3H-52 of the Planetary Amalgamation Compendium, Planet [email protected]#$%^&* has been designated as Resource Mine 1,428,384,769,293. All inhabitants will therefore be relocated. Thank you for your cooperation.]

Who had spoken? It was as if the message had been inputted directly in my brain. Letting the words process, I wondered at their honesty. Was this situation real? Or was this just another fantasy of my own creation? The ground certainly felt real, and the heavier air that filled my lungs did not feel like Earth's air. My brain had never created something this expansive, so I couldn't help but believe it.

If it was real, this situation was not something I liked. If the voice was right, I was no longer on Earth. It had been destroyed—reduced to a mere number that was a part of many. Did this mean I was on an alien planet?

To think that I had been taken so easily from my world. It felt sickening to know something had that much control over my very life. Didn’t it mean they could easily remove me from existence, as if stepping on an ant? If the message was correct, the rest of the population had also been taken, and that magnitude only further weighed on my mind. The message further implied that they had done this to an uncountable number of planets.

My ruminations were abruptly interrupted as I heard the faint rustling of plants and footsteps. I moved slowly away from the noise, feeling for something I could use as cover. I ran into a large tree that was surrounded by bushes and quickly took refuge behind it from the approaching unknowns. Their steps sounded humanoid, and that assumption was confirmed when conversation floated through the air to my ears. The voices came in and out of my hearing range, so my understanding was spotty.

“...really think…drop around here?”

“Probably. I mean…set spot for them to land. It’s all random.”

The voices got even closer, gaining clarity.

“When the drop happened a hundred years ago, books say some had come out of this forest,” a third voice chipped in.

“Doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen again.”

“I hope we find some docile ones who’ll come with us easily. I don’t want too much trouble.”

“You think someone would willingly join the Federation to work, fight, and die for nothing?”

“You’re walking a thin line. Don’t let anyone back at camp hear you say shit like that.”

The other man clicked his tongue but stayed silent.

The conversation gave me a lot to think about, but not much time. Was my appearance here part of this supposed “drop”? Did that mean my situation has happened before on this planet? These people sounded real, acting like humans, and nothing at all like the priest or the pyromaniac.

It also sounded like they would take me, willingly or not, to someplace I did not want to be. I quietly pulled my switchblade I always kept with me out of its pocket. The best outcome was them walking right by me and continuing on their way. But I had no idea when they would end up turning back, and I additionally had no idea where I was.

Whether this world was real or not, I would take action. I'd been trained for situations like this, and even if this was just another delusion of mine, I wouldn't allow myself to be taken. Not again.

I steadied my breathing, patiently waiting for them to get closer. As they passed the tree I was hiding behind, I slowly moved behind the last in the group. Rising from my crouch, I reached from behind him and gripped the man’s face in my hand, driving my blade into his neck and piercing his artery and vein.

Killing a man blind was no different than killing one with sight, I found. Iron blood still flowed over my hand, and the man’s life slowly faded as he scratched feebly at my grip.

The same voice spoke again.

[Title Grant-

I quickly tuned it out, as there was no time for distractions. By then the other two had already turned around, yelling in anger. I dodged as much as I could as I heard an object move quickly towards me, using the dying man’s body as a shield. It still hit me in the arm, leaving stinging pain as I was sliced.

That man was using a sword. Why? Were weapons not as developed in this world? However, I had to push these questions aside.

Bracing against the ground, I pushed the body towards my enemies, following up behind it. I tried to stab wherever I could reach but found one of my wrists in an overly strong grip. Dread filled me as I found myself completely immobile.

How had one of them moved so fast? And how was he so strong?

“Fuck. A newly dropped was able to get the jump on us. How the hell did this happen?”

My hands were yanked behind my back, a painful grip forcing me to drop my weapon.

“Is Elver dead?” I heard rustling, then a sigh.

“Yeah. Unbelievable.”

The one not holding me walked forward before stopping at my feet and delivering a violent punch to my stomach. The smack of flesh was like a gunshot, and pain made me convulse as I doubled over. I could not speak, my breath stopped.

“Fucking bastard,” he spat as he hit me again. All of my focus had centered on the pain radiating from my stomach, and I felt nauseous.

“Owen, you’ll kill him. Seems he’s from a place that doesn’t let him improve.”

“Yeah? Then how the hell did a weak guy manage to kill Elver?”

“Everyone gets lucky from time to time,” he wearily said. I found that statement completely true. My kill had only been luck, and some okay planning on my part. There was no way I could fight these guys on fair grounds. I had completely underestimated my situation, and what this new world entailed.

The pain I felt was real, and I could not imagine this situation as some hallucination. I didn't believe my body could ever fabricate the hurt I felt, as its concept was too familiar for me to not recognize when it was fake.

“Well, at least we found one. That means we can head back now.”

Owen clicked his tongue. “We lost one to gain one. I don’t think it was worth it.”

He gripped my hair, pulling my head up from where I had dropped to my knees. My sunglasses had fallen off somewhere—maybe even back on earth.

“Why are your eyes closed?” I didn’t respond. There was no reason to talk to these men at all. I could only be relieved that they hadn’t decided to kill me yet. “Don’t want to look at me, huh?”

He forced one of my eyelids open with his thumb before hastily stepping back. “Fuck! Keith, he has no eyes!”

“What? Are you kidding?”

“No! Scared the shit outta me,” he mumbled.

Keith sighed. “Well, whatever,” he dragged me up. “Let’s head back. Grab Elver’s body.”

“Blind, lucky bastard,” Owen grumbled as he lifted the body of the man I had killed onto his shoulder, and we turned to head back to god knows where. He continued to mutter expletives at my back.

Wild animal panic began to well up in me. I was being taken again, and who knows what they would do to me? I only found solace in the fact that I was still conscious, instead of dead to the world like last time.

This was reality—the pain in my arm and in my stomach told me so. There was some lingering hope that I would wake up from this dream, but it was quickly fading. The idea that I was in another world felt impossible, but my situation demanded that I accept it.

As I was led to enemy soil, the singing birds mocked my involuntary march.