A dream is lost before it can even be remembered. Seth opens his eyes to the sound of a deep thud still ringing in his head. What it was and what it could mean try to coerce him awake as he sleepily blinks his eyes. His room is dim, the curtains still closed and morning light barely eking through them. Those questioning thoughts soon melt away as he realizes a more pressing concern. 'It is too early to wake up.' Especially during summer break. He pulls his head back over on his pillow to regain his lost comfort. But before he can drift back to sleep, he realizes something else. 'Why is it so quiet?' He's always been woken up by his parents’ morning routines, to his extreme annoyance. But it is way too quiet this time.

He gets up and out of bed still half asleep and oblivious to his scenery. His room little more than a blur as he rubs his eyes. Shuffling ahead, he groggily kicks his action figures aside, most still stanced up to fight whatever villain he sees on TV next. Out of muscle memory he grabs his favorite jacket, a faded windbreaker, and puts it on over his pajamas as he heads for the hall.

“Mom? Dad?” Nothing but continued silence. He pokes his head into their bedroom, but the bed is made and the curtains drawn. His mom always opens them in the morning, to everyone’s begrudgement. The bathroom door is open but the light is off so they aren’t in there either. The study/office is empty, but even his dad knew productivity was pointless this early in the morning, or at least that is what Seth thought of things. Why is it so quiet though? Surely there would be some noise, his mom making breakfast, his dad making coffee, either of them talking, but there is nothing. He heads to the stairs, winding down past family photos he… he could never make out for some reason.

Making it to the foyer, he steps into the chilling morning air pooling below the last step. He turns, knowing full well the front door is open. But seeing it is more anxiety inducing then it should be. It is fully ajar, dim light illuminating the storage closet door that is directly opposite. And it is quiet, way too quiet. No birds, no wind, not even an early commuter or lawn mower. It is like the world outside is standing still. Seth inches ever forward to the door frame, heart beats loud in his ears over the silence.

The scene awaiting him is one of supreme stillness. His parents are standing apart, his mother halfway up the pathway to the door with her hand covering her mouth, his father all the way at the sidewalk frozen with tension. Both stare straight ahead, as does everyone else in the neighborhood. Mr. Thomas next door is at the sidewalk too, as is the whole Maltsburger family on the other side. Mrs. Buchanan is leaning out her bedroom window, while Mr. and Mrs. Peirce are stopped halfway into their car on their way to work. Every one of them stares out toward the center of town, and the slowly rising plume of black smoke over it.

“Mom!?” As if a spell over them had been lifted, both parents turn at this call. Seth can make out surprise and worry on… what should be their faces. He's always had trouble making out their faces. He only really focuses on the red scarf around his mother’s neck, as it suddenly starts billowing toward him.

A strange noise comes from down the street and both parents turn again in time to see Mr. Farrow at the end of the street lurch away before-*ZAP*. A bolt, no a tendril of electricity strikes him from around the corner. He is enveloped by blinding light as two more arcs appear, one striking the O’Crowly house on the left through a window, the right hitting Ms. Mable on her front porch. All this occurring within a half second, but slowed down by grim ever increasing perception. Seth’s heart sinks as his parents turn back around. As his mind finally catches and clears away the fuzz that had clouded his reality. As it shows him something he knew, but never could truly see before.

He can see them this time, his father’s light brown hair and green eyes burning toward him as he pivots and reaches out for his family. “RUN!!!” His mother reaching for him instinctively, dark brown hair flowing behind her and shared hazel eyes staring out as if this is the last time she will see her son. All the while the tendrils stretch further.

The left striking the Peirces, their car shattering between them, while the right slams into Mrs. Buchanan, blowing out her windows. The left hits Mr. Thomas as he recoils from the first shock, almost prone and pleading for his life. The right chains through the Maltsburgers on the other side. Then it splits again… and one tendril slams his father in the side. The collective flashes wash out Seth’s vision and as the arc impacts as if it were a wanton train. Before his dad can even make a step. It flashes out, whiting out the world, and chains toward his mother. Light halos around her as the tendril strikes her in the back, causing her to bend inadvertently upward, forcing her teared up eyes away as her fleeting face disappears in the blinding light.

Through all of this Seth is stuck completely still, even as his adrenaline churns and his mind realizes what was occurring, even as the tendril leaves his mother’s blown out and indistinguishable form and stretches out toward him. He can't move, only watch as it grows slower in his perception, as grim inevitability burns the world into his brain, as it comes closer and closer until…

The world starts falling away, no feeling of impact, no blinding heat. Just the total loss of sensory input. Yet he can feel something encroaching upon his mind, blotting out what it can reach. What little he had. His happiness was torn away, his fear subsumed, his annoyances overshadowed. Every emotion ripping away like haphazard threading. Defiant memories that were held aloft by that string fade away, the blurry fuzz he lives in filling every void in that blotting path. The only feeling left to him, the one that exudes from that swallowing abyss that was taking everything away was...

A sudden new light flares up, countering the darkness at the edges of his vision, overshadowing everything else. From across town, streaking as if it had no care for physics or perception, a massive bolt of lightning tears over rooftops and blurs out the sky. As if aimed with knowing purpose or wanton disregard, it crashes into Seth with force enough to slam the world back into him. It collides with power enough to blow both the front door and the closet door off their hinges. It, and by material extension Seth, smash through the storage closet like a freak hurricane. Everything falls from its shelf or rack, and bury him in a mountain of coats and cleaning equipment. Before his consciousness drifts away, Seth can see the dim light of the outside through a hole in the mountain, as it diminishes more and more before…

…

“*Hassshh*…jish…xish…xing…xike…wake…WAKE UP!!”

Seth woke up again, like it was the first time he'd ever had, but his surprise was stifled by a weight pressing against him. The clothes had remained in place, nothing had moved and the light outside remained shining, though shifted from the dim blue of dawn to the burnt orange of approaching dusk. He moved to free himself, but his body refused to budge, not from the weight of the coats but from the weight of itself. The weight pressing him down was his own. So sapped and weak, his body couldn’t free itself from a few layers of clothing, though the vacuum on his foot really wasn’t helping.

But... oddly this weight was comforting. Surrounded by soft clothes, given a reason to stay put, and no energy to expend, Seth began to drift back to sleep again. Back the rest he was denied before. But as soon as he sunk his head down, he regretted it. For every coat and jacket and forgotten piece of clothing in this closet was hiding something. A hanger. As soon as his head sunk in he felt the cold metal poke spring him out of his drift, and bring attention to all the other hangers in this mountainous pile. One was hooked around his jacket sleeve, one was poking him in the ribs, a further two were hooking his pajama pants, and finally one threatened his face if he were to ever rise out of this pincushion of a cradle. Trapped, tired, and barely able to… to remember what happened. ‘What did happen?’ He remembered getting out of bed and seeing his parents but… it felt jumbled. Like he’d never remembered stuff before. He tried again, but he saw almost literal static, heard words he… he couldn’t understand, and…

“*Haassh*…ecsh…ecoutez…liutez…listen…LISTEN!!”

Out of the mental fuzz came a voice, one he could understand. He looked around his hand-me-down tomb but saw no source. “Lisshh…Listen!” He looked again toward the opening, fruitlessly searching for where the sound was coming from. “llllisten…to…Me!” At this, Seth’s head felt as if it were being held in place. His eyes defocused, as if trying to see someone close up, but there was nothing there. “ssssSorry, you were scaring us a little.” The voice, clearer and softer, spoke to try and calm him. It sounded jaded, guilty, but still sincere. “Don’t worry, we aren’t here to hurt you.” The voice was low, almost inaudible, but then again Seth couldn’t hear anything else. “h…” He tried to ask who they were but he couldn’t speak, it was like he knew what to say but couldn’t remember how to say it. “*hissshh*…Oh, that’s uh… complicated.” The voice responded, not to Seth’s failed words but his thoughts of them. “Oh yeah... sorry about your uh *hhissh*… voice. We had to… borrow it… so we could learn to speak to you. Don’t worry, we can give it back to you. It… just might be a while. Each of us needs to use it to learn and there’s a lo- *hsh* *sigh* Just don’t worry… okay.”

Seth’s vision refocused and his head seemed freed from its phantom grasp, but he knew now that the voices weren’t outside, they were in his head. “Yeah sorry, we needed someone to take us in, but we weren’t expecting to all be in just one… *hsh*…” The voice responded to Seth’s thoughts, but also to someone else. He couldn’t understand them, but felt their apprehension… wait he could feel a lot of things. Fear, some loathing, guilt… a lot of guilt, and… “heh… *hish* cat’s… out of the bag? What’s a cat? Anyway. Yeah, what you’re feeling is everything we are. Call it a side effect of what happened… *hhhssshhh* WE are a part of you now, and by extension you are a part of us. It’s just SOME of us are a little concerned what this might cause and want to keep separate. But I think you need someone to talk to, or at least someone to help you understand. And really, we are all in this together so leaving you out of this like some kind of… beast of burden, your sayings are weird, is only going to make things worse for all of us. So, what do you saaa… oops sorry. What do you think?”

Seth thought, but felt as if he wasn’t heard, as if given time and distance to formulate his answer. He could still feel the others, but there was a thin wall in the way, like a curtain. He didn’t know what all of this was, who all these people were, or what they were, but of all the feelings he felt, malice was not one of them. He thought of what they needed from him, but couldn’t feel their greed. He couldn’t remember what happened, but he felt as if these people were affected by it as well, like what was supposed to happen didn’t and now they are all stuck, just like him.

He thought again, this time with focus, this time directing it at the others now seemingly camping out inside his head. ‘o… o… Okay.’ The curtain fell away and he felt the rush of the stifled emotions, but could make out relief predominantly among them. “Thank you… and here, let’s see if we can’t get you out of this pile.” At this Seth felt the weight lift from him, in fact he felt lighter than ever. All the tired ache he felt in his muscles fell away. He moved to lift the top off his thrift store sarcophagus, but despite his now revitalized body, he was stopped. More appropriately snagged by the ever present hangers. “Oh…yeah, here let me get those for… wait that’s…”

Without warning Seth felt every hair on his body stand on end and could feel the hangers seemingly recede into the cloth walls, but felt not just their absence, but their movement. He could feel every one of them, even the ones not close to him, even the ones that stayed up on their racks. But in the same instant he felt them they not only receded but shot away at speed. The now ballistic hangers imbedded themselves into the walls of the closet, as did the vacuum pinning his feet. But now free of their cold metal pokes, their annoyance was replaced by stinging pain. One of the hangers hooked his thigh and gashed it on the way out, and Seth could feel the warm wet blood staining his pajamas. “*HHSH* OKAY!! That wasn’t supposed to happen!!” Reeling in pain he threw away the clothes from on top of him and uncovered himself as best he could, all the while the gash in his leg screamed for attention. But he could not vocalize this pain, only managing whimpers. Once his wound was uncovered, Seth could see more blood than he’d ever seen, his grey pajamas now blotched and tattered, and the gash… was gone.

“There… that was close, didn’t think you’d take to the power so… easily.” The gap in his pajamas, frayed by the hanger, now only showed pale skin. Still covered in loose blood, but no grievous wound that had been demanding attention. Seth was stunned. “Yeah… that’s one of the perks of having the power, healing is easy if you focus at it, it’s just harder to numb the pain. But don’t worry we can teach you…*hhsh* Yes WE can… *hsh* you saw…” The voice receded as if stepping away from a podium. Seth poked the now closed wound, probing for any pain but finding none. Then he looked around the trashed closet.

Boxes on shelves had overturned into the pile, the racks were almost barren…and bent away in places. The walls were skewered with hangers, most so deep in that barely a corner stuck out. Seth turned his head around to see behind him and saw more violent hanger-wall interactions, but the back wall was dominated by a massive cracked and caved in crater, the one he made as… as he was shot back. As he was struck by that lightning bolt… as he was looking for… ‘MOM, DAD!!!’

He shot up, ducking past the vacuum that was slammed into the wall, climbing over the discombobulated doors that leaned every which way, and finally making it to the door frame. Outside the sun was setting, hanging off to his left, still lighting up his street. The burnt orange light had darkened, but he could see… nothing. Where his neighbors, friends, his parents were stood, there was barely anything even signifying they were ever there… Except for a red scarf caught on his front step, blowing in the breeze, blowing away from the sun like it was a stellar wind. His breath caught in his throat, he could barely process what he was seeing, what it meant. In that moment though, Seth saw what had been left. The wind carried tatters, barely pieces of cloth, along with it. He saw pools of what were once pants and shirts in places the wind couldn’t touch and could see pieces draped and caught on every edge facing the wind. That hot oppressive wind. He turned to face it, and saw no sun, only illuminated clouds. No… plumes of smoke. It was as if the horizon was on fire, and he had a front row seat.

Seth sat on his front step for what seemed like hours, head sunken into his mother’s scarf. The winds had died down and a light drizzle was starting, but the fires on the western horizon still burned. But he didn’t care, or couldn’t care. For that matter, he wasn’t even able to cry. For his mom, his dad, his neighborhood, for anything. Seth sat face down in that scarf feeling nothing, but not for lack of trying. The drizzle continued, the pattering of drops across the dead town was the only sound. No crickets, no birds, nothing but rain. For a second the drizzle subsided and he heard the voice from before calling him, but the rain started up again and it was gone. The event was enough to snap him out of his muted and numb sorrow to see the sun had gone down, and to notice he was hungry. He got up and walked back inside, stepping over the door and robotically heading toward the kitchen.

The rain was softened by the home, but still reverberated through it, mostly due to the permanently open door. Once in the kitchen he saw what was left of his parent’s morning. Cold coffee, cold over-steeped tea, and all the tools and fixings for waffles. Seth reached up to the counter and pulled down the waffle iron, setting it on the floor so he didn’t have to reach. He then hungrily grabbed the mix. Opening it, he saw the distinct sparkle and swirl of brown sugar in the batter. His parents knew he liked it, but only made it on special days. ‘What day is it?’

He still couldn’t remember much. Looking toward the fridge he saw the calendar had fallen from it, as had all the magnets. It was a 20XX Heroes of East Asia edition, though he knew next to nothing about the region beyond what the first few months had on display. The calendar was splayed every which way, but the days were all marked down so he could see which pages to ignore. He found July, the calendar showed a propaganda poster of Major Nugyen, or at a bunch of him, lifting a stereotypically American tank from over top of a family. The days on the calendar proper were barely marked two weeks in, but he saw what was written on the last date, the current date.

Saturday 13th

*Seth’s Birthday*

He dropped the calendar, dropped to his knees. The gravity of his whole world came falling upon him. He lost his parents, his town, his piecemeal but happy life. All of it was gone on his birthday. Why… ‘why…WHY!!!’

Without warning the lights in the kitchen started flickering, practically strobing. The waffle iron, absentmindedly left unplugged on the floor, started heating, smoking, and melting in on itself. The fridge shook, the stove tops burned, the oven overheated. Outside the window the entire town was flashing, car alarms blaring, entire houses flickering in the dark rain. The streetlights went first, shattering in sequence away from the home, then the cars, their batteries running off and melting down. Transformers on their poles soon flashed in spectacular overload across the town, but inversely to everything else, seemingly detonating in sequence toward the home, toward Seth. He was still knelt on the floor, a burgeoning grimace trying to break through as he stared wide eyed at the now charring calendar. The dead magnets strewn across the floor revived and crawled toward his legs. The barest amount of emotion soon forced its way to the surface. He began gritting his teeth, clenching his fists in anger and rage. His thoughts spiraling completely out of control. ‘WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY!!!!!’

Seth was losing it, the transformers on his street were popping and now the power sockets were smoldering, plastic covers lighting on fire and drywall charring. The final transformer outside his house finally exploded sending a shower of green sparks dancing across the lawn. The sockets finally gave out and shot pure streams of electricity straight toward the swirling field forming around him. The magnets, the burning calendar, the once cold drinks, everything not nailed down in the kitchen was churning around him like a maelstrom. Seth had clenched tighter, now bleeding from his palms, his teeth almost cracking from the tension. Finally, it snapped, he snapped, and the sky snapped with him. From the light drizzle outside came a lightning bolt straight through the house. It tore through the roof and his parent’s bedroom, burning a hole straight to the kitchen. Straight to Seth.

He yelled, yelled like he’d never done before, and the lightning screamed with him, channeling straight into him. The kitchen burned, was blasted apart. The windows blew out, and the vortex turned into shrapnel. The lightning subsided first, plunging the world into violently drained darkness. Then Seth fell, releasing and dropping down into a curled up ball in the now dark and decimated kitchen. He closed his eyes, the rain had stopped and the town had gone silent once again. The emotional dam was broken open as a single tear streaked down his face. As he finally started crying for his destroyed life.

Seth opened his eyes, the sun shining through the shattered windows was too powerful to ignore any longer. He hadn’t so much slept as simply cried himself into unconsciousness. Things felt better at least, as better as his situation could allow them to be anyway. He started up, kneeling in the burnt scar he made in the kitchen, rubbing his eyes clear. It was quiet again, peacefully quiet, save for the- *THUNK*…disintegrating hole in the ceiling. Seth rubbed his head with muted grumbling, getting up to avoid further head trauma. But it was still quiet, so… “You are finally awake. Good.”

The voice returned, but… different. More polite, professional, but dismissive. “Your little outburst… forced my hand… so I will be taking over being our liaison. Not that ~Threat~ was not doing his best, but you cannot take the soft approach with this much power at the disposal of a mere whelp.” The voice seemed to talk through him, caring little for what he felt, but… “I know what you are feeling, a great many of us know it all too well. But right now we need to keep you from losing control again, as well as keep you alive. Remember, we are part of you now, your fate is ours. ...And I fear our fate may yet be yours as well. But for now, I believe someone is hungry from yesterday?”

Seth snapped to realization at the growling of his stomach. “Maybe if you had not turned your kitchen into a smoking crater you would have actually tasted those… waffles?” Seth looked around at the charred and stirred results of yesterday. At least the fridge was intact- *thump* …*CLANG* The door fell away from the scorched fridge revealing the equally charred contents. Seth sighed in disappointment, shuffling toward the pantry that was thankfully around the corner from the kitchen.

Most of the jars and boxes were at least still on the shelves, rather annoyingly as the stuff in his reach was unappetizing or ‘ugh’ healthy. “You do not get to pick and choose what you survive on.” The voice interjected, reprimanded his childishness, ignoring the fact he was still ten…eleven? “What matters right now is what can be prepared, saved, and rationed so you can survive the longest. Though at the moment sustenance is necessary to make up for your lost meals. So maybe something dense is called for.” Seth eyed the cookie packets on the upper shelf, just out of reach. “No!” He sank in further disappointment, then looked lower. Most of the jars and cans were ingredients, so not very appetizing. “Almost.” His eyes focused, looking at every can individually before “There, that one will do.” …It was a can of refried beans. “That paste should be dense enough while still being nutritious to warrant it as a full meal.” Seth glowered at the idea of eating an entire can of refried beans for breakfast. But… wasn’t fully against it, he eyed up again to the high shelf, looking for chips. “Hey, luxuries can wait, you need food that is… HEY!!” He had stopped listening and realized there was a step ladder in the closet he was thrown into upfront.

Now with beans and chips to dip in them Seth… didn’t know how to cook. Also the stove top had melted down, so there was no easy way to do this. “I’m going to have to teach you how to light a fire aren’t I?” The voice sounded exactly as if it had its palm in its face. Seth looked around at the charred kitchen he’d made, less dour about it and thinking of… “Ugh to use the power for something as trivial as cooking is… oh sorry *hhsshish*, I forgot you were with us… But…” The voice seemed to growl slightly at its situation. “Very well.”

Seth felt a tingle, not on his skin though, he felt as if his nerves were just booted up for the first time. “We are locking your power control proper to avoid further ‘incidents’, but we can release some of it to facilitate… trivial matters I guess.” Seth looked at himself, concerned but understanding somehow. “Take the container in your hands. Hold it tight, but focus on where you make contact with the metal.” He did as he was asked, but stopped short, realizing that if he was about to heat a can with his bare hands. ”Oh right, you do not have scales. Don’t worry, if you focus right you will not burn your skin. We can heal you if you accidently do at least. Think of it as a learning exercise. Besides, we will need to teach you to heal yourself sooner or later.” Seth furrowed his brow, but continued on. He focused on the contact points, his pinkies that touched the uncovered bottom of the can, his thumps that touched the top. “Now focus on the contents of the container, look through it, but do not- *POP*… focus too hard.” The can’s lid flew open, narrowly missing Seth’s thumbs, but instead revealed a cloud of steam and hot bean paste. “Huh, guess your people’s metals are rather weak compared to ours.” ‘Or it was just a pull tab.’ Seth was starting to get use to thinking rather than speaking to his new ‘friends’.

A thought passed his mind though as he scooped a bit of paste up in a chip, ‘Why do I see these voices as friends, I barely even know who they are?’ “We can discuss who, what, where, and why later, your survival takes precedent…” The voice paused for a solemn moment. “But we owe you this, and it will be the first debt paid.” Seth resigned the thought, but asked ‘Can I at least know ‘your’ name? You called the other voice Threat but I don’t-’ “Wait. You understood that? I guess you were able to parse some amount of our language, or… *hsh shehhsh* collective meaning? Wait, I understand now, Threat as a name is known by everyone here so there are no contradicting perspectives. So its meaning is not obfuscated by all of us having our own interpretations.” Seth rubbed his head, this kind of neuroscience is way above what’s expect of an eleven year old.

“Sorry. If we all think the same way about something, its meaning is clearly translated to you, since we are all in agreement about what that thing is. And we all know quite well who and what Threat is...” Seth could feel a deep seated ire from the voice, but equally felt them keep it in check. “At any rate, we will have to wait for everyone to get done learning your language, but names will be an easy starting point for your own translation.” The voice felt somber for a moment. “It… may sound awful, but most of us cannot remember our true names. We have transitioned to calling each other by our respective titles due to our… relatively new state of being. We never gave much thought on preserving them. *sigh* Another thing to add to the list once we are able to reconstitute ourselves…” An almost collective pang of sorrow and guilt swept over Seth from the voices. “Do not worry, existential questions are not conducive to survival, and we need to refocus outward… And my title is ~Tlatoani~ by the…what?” ‘Oh… ugh there’s a hero I like that’s Aztec themed, I guess maybe now I’m ob-fu-scating your meanings.’ “…Parsing this mess of a brain is going to be agonizing. I can feel it. Let us at least alleviate that translation a little bit, call me Speaker. I am the elected leader of this group you are now harboring. But, as the name suggests, I was to merely represent them at large. Our situation though has transitioned my role somewhat, so I have become the defacto leader in a more direct regard.” Seth swallowed the chip he had been munching on and bowed slightly. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you Speaker.’ “I do not know whether to feel patronized or happy that you finally found some decorum. Never mind, survival, focus, now.”

Without much more thought, Seth set about following Speakers instructions. Grabbing empty water bottles from the kitchen cabinets, the ones not scorched the night before, and filling them with water from the bathroom tap. Next came storage, he grabbed his school backpack, as well as proper clothes since he’d been still wearing the same blood stained pajamas since yesterday. A graphic t-shirt with a younger looking General Advance charging through a brick wall and a pair of grey cargo pants. Oddly though, he had his mother’s scarf on as well, having absentmindedly put it on when he grabbed it yesterday. He stayed just a little while longer holding it, grounding himself and trying to hold on to his memories.

With proper clothing, Seth went about grabbing up every usable and storable piece of food in the pantry he could fit into his backpack and prepared to… ‘Why do we need to stay somewhere else? I like my bed.’ “There is a smoking hole through the roof and the front door is off its hinges. Not to mention you shattered most of the windows. It is no longer a sound or insulated structure. Do not worry though, we should not have to go far. Your village has plenty of houses we can use.” Thus Seth set off into the emptied town, leaving his house behind. Photos still on the walls as he walked through the doorframe a final time, a few… not so blurry anymore.

The town was in a horrid state, mostly due to the ever present smoke clouds from distant fires discoloring the sky an ominous red hue. Every house Seth passed was the same story. Shattered glass and scorch marks, though most led outside rather than in. The few cars on the road were… broken out of, with the few exceptions being banged and dented as if pushed aside. The center of town was a little better, but most windows were blown in for a different reason. Close to the center of town, at the intersection of Main and 15th, the source of all this destruction stood, still smoking from its landfall. It was an almost perfect sphere, at least from what could be seen of it. Chunks of meteoric rock and metal jutted from various areas. Fused on tagalongs from several asteroid belts. Its surface was matte black, but had distinctive lines across it, almost like circuitry. “Our ark. The deliverer of our salvation and the spreader of our sins. It is best that we not linger here, we can talk someplace… safer.” ‘But…’ “I know… but we need suitable long term shelter before nightfall.” ‘But there’s nobody here?’ “That… is what worries us.” A small tinge of collective apprehension kept Seth company as he continued on, only slowing to scrounge around a grocery store and make sure it was still viable.

He was only stopped when he came to the outskirts of town, at a small mattress store. It had all of its windows, plenty of beds, and could even be fortified a little… ‘But from what?’ “With any luck, nothing at all. We are making countermeasures on our end to keep anything away, but for now just keep quiet when doing anything.” ‘Okay, but-’ Seth was interrupted. A low thunder rolled in from the west. It was distant, but it was there… and unrelenting. He stared off down the road that led out of town, fear coloring the barren road with every roll. “Do not worry, with everything still usable around here, and these countermeasures, we can stay here for a long while. We can wait for rescue… and never have to deal with whatever that is.” Seth kept looking, listening to the thunder, listening to it die down. When nothing was left he went inside the mattress store and prepared to camp out for the foreseeable future.