Beyond Earth

Fear

We continued driving, taking turns behind the wheel and sharing stories along the way. Michael told us a few embarrassing stories about his childhood, while Grace kept interrupting to make fun of him, and even Marie joined in whenever she found an opportunity.

At one point, Marie leaned towards me and whispered, "I'm beginning to understand why he complains so much."

I laughed.

"Maybe it's because nobody takes him seriously."

She covered her mouth, trying to suppress another laugh, while Michael glanced at us through the mirror.

"I can hear you two, you know."

"Good," Marie replied without hesitation.

Everyone burst into laughter.

For the first time since waking up in that destroyed parking lot, I felt like I was moving towards somewhere safe.

Eventually, we arrived at an abandoned gas station.

The building had been badly burned, and most of its windows were shattered. The pumps were damaged, while weeds had begun growing through cracks in the concrete.

Michael pulled over.

I looked around.

"Why are we here?"

"We're here," he replied, unfastening his seat belt.

I frowned.

"Here? This place is practically destroyed."

He smiled.

"Just follow me."

We climbed out of the truck and followed him towards the station. He walked around the side of the building until he reached what looked like an old storage area.

There was a metal panel on the ground, almost completely hidden beneath broken pieces of concrete.

Michael moved the debris aside, revealing a small keypad.

He entered a series of numbers, and a quiet mechanical sound followed.

The metal panel slowly unlocked.

I stared at it.

"There's a bunker underneath?"

"Something like that," he replied, pulling the panel open.

A staircase descended into darkness, and Michael stepped onto the first few steps before turning back towards us.

"Coming?"

We followed him down.

At the bottom was another reinforced door. Michael entered a second code, and it opened with a heavy metallic click.

I stepped inside and immediately stopped.

The place was enormous.

It looked like an underground shelter that had been built many years ago, although it was far from the clean, organized facility I'd expected. Old furniture, electronic equipment, boxes, and piles of random objects filled almost every corner. It had the appearance of a giant storage room belonging to someone who had never thrown anything away.

But it was alive.

People were everywhere.

Some sat around tables playing cards, others were dancing to music coming from old speakers, while a few gathered around colourful lights that illuminated one side of the bunker.

The moment we entered, the music stopped.

Everyone turned towards us.

Several people immediately stood up, looking at us with suspicion.

Michael raised both hands.

"Relax, everyone. We're not here to cause trouble," he assured them.

A few people slowly lowered their weapons, although most continued watching us cautiously.

Michael looked around.

"Where's Styles?"

One of the men pointed towards a room at the far end.

"He's in there."

"Thanks."

Michael led us towards the room, and I followed behind him.

Inside, I found an elderly man sitting behind a cluttered desk. He wore a pair of electronic glasses that displayed several lines of information across the lenses, while various machines and tools were scattered around him.

He seemed completely absorbed in whatever he was working on.

"Father," Michael called.

The old man looked up.

"Michael?"

He removed his glasses and leaned back, staring at his son for a moment before shaking his head.

"Well, look what the apocalypse dragged in."

Michael chuckled.

"Good to see you too."

The old man stood up and walked around his desk.

"Where have you been? I haven't heard from you in weeks."

"Long story."

"I can imagine," Styles replied, giving him a doubtful look. "You always seem to have a long story whenever you disappear."

Michael laughed before gesturing towards us.

"These are the people I've been travelling with. This is Sarah, Grace, Noah, and Marie."

He then pointed towards me.

"And this is Albert. We found him a few days ago."

The old man extended his hand.

"Styles. It's a pleasure to meet you."

I shook his hand.

"Albert. Nice to meet you."

"Make yourselves comfortable," he said, looking around at the others. "There's food and water in the storage area, and if you're interested in entertainment, I'm afraid you'll have to settle for whatever ancient technology these people have managed to keep working."

Michael laughed.

"That's his way of saying welcome."

Styles waved us off.

"Go on. Enjoy yourselves. You've earned it."

We began leaving, but Michael suddenly turned towards me.

"Wait, Albert. Come back for a second."

I stopped and looked at him.

He turned towards his father.

"There's something he has. I was wondering if you could fix it."

I reached into my pocket and brought out the compass.

Styles took it from me and examined it carefully, turning it around in his hands.

His expression changed slightly.

"Where did you get this?"

"Someone gave it to me."

He looked at me for a few seconds before smiling.

"Interesting."

He placed it on his desk.

"I'll see what I can do. Come back by this evening, and I'll have it ready."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he replied, putting his electronic glasses back on.

Michael patted my shoulder.

"Come on. Let's go."

The bunker was a completely different world from the one outside.

Once the initial suspicion had passed, people gradually returned to their activities. The music came back on, and the colourful lights filled the room again. Some people danced, others laughed around the tables, and a few were busy preparing food.

For a moment, it was easy to forget that the world above us had fallen apart.

We found a table and joined a group of survivors who welcomed us with more enthusiasm than I had expected.

The food was strange, and I couldn't identify half the things on my plate, but it tasted surprisingly good.

"Don't ask what's inside," Michael warned when he noticed me examining my food.

I looked at him.

"Why?"

"Because you'll stop eating."

Everyone laughed.

I shook my head and continued eating.

Marie sat beside me, and we spent most of the evening talking. She told me about her life before the invasion, how she'd always wanted to become a doctor, and how she'd spent her childhood helping her mother at a small clinic.

"What happened to your mother?" I asked, lowering my voice.

Her smile faded slightly.

"I lost her during the first wave."

"I'm sorry."

She nodded, looking down at her plate.

"It's alright. I've had time to accept it."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I simply listened.

After a moment, she looked back at me.

"What about you? You mentioned earlier that you'd lost people too."

I looked down at my plate.

"Yeah. People who meant a lot to me."

She placed her hand gently over mine.

"You don't have to talk about it."

I looked at her and gave a small nod.

"Thank you."

She smiled.

"Besides, I think we should talk about happier things. We've spent enough time surrounded by death."

I chuckled.

"Like what?"

"Tell me something interesting about yourself."

I pretended to think.

"I'm an excellent cook."

She laughed.

"Really?"

"No."

Her laughter grew louder.

"You're terrible."

"I haven't even cooked for you yet!"

"Exactly. I don't want to take the risk."

We both laughed.

The conversation continued, and before long, I found myself telling her a few harmless stories about my childhood. She teased me about some of them, and I did the same whenever she shared something embarrassing.

It was strange how comfortable I felt around her.

I'd only known her for a short time, yet talking to her felt easier than I expected.

Throughout the evening, people shared stories about their lives before the invasion. Some were funny, others were heartbreaking, but for a few hours, we were simply people enjoying each other's company.

I occasionally looked around for Michael, but he seemed to be spending most of his time with his father. The two of them were in Styles's room, probably discussing whatever had happened between them during the past few weeks.

Eventually, the music became quieter, and people began settling down.

Marie and I found a relatively quiet corner and sat together.

"Are you going to leave when you find your friends?" she asked, glancing at me.

I turned towards her.

"I have to."

She nodded slowly, although she seemed a little disappointed.

"Are they important to you?"

"Very."

"Then I hope you find them," she said, offering me a small smile.

"I will."

"Good."

We continued talking until our conversation gradually slowed. Eventually, we both settled down to rest.

I was just beginning to close my eyes when a door opened.

Styles stepped out of his room, followed closely by Michael.

"Albert!"

I sat up and looked towards them.

Michael was holding something in his hand.

My compass.

He tossed it towards me, and I caught it.

"Get out of here," he said coldly. "And don't ever come back."

I stared at him, confused.

"What?"

"Get up and leave!" he repeated, raising his voice.

The conversations around us stopped. Everyone turned towards our direction, trying to understand what was happening.

I looked at Michael.

"What's wrong?"

He pointed a gun at me.

"Everyone, listen carefully. This man is one of them. He's an alien!"

A wave of gasps and murmurs spread through the bunker.

I looked around, and the expressions on people's faces changed almost immediately.

Marie stood up.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, looking between Michael and Styles.

Styles stepped forward.

"I became suspicious when he handed me that device. It contained Aeternum technology, and I couldn't understand how an ordinary survivor had access to something like that."

He adjusted his electronic glasses before continuing.

"So I decided to scan his fingerprints and run them through an old database."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in.

"And I discovered who he really is."

Everyone was now staring at me.

"He's a hybrid. Half-human and half-Xaryth."

The bunker erupted into whispers.

I looked towards Marie.

She was standing completely still, staring at me with disbelief, as though she was trying to reconcile what she'd just heard with the person she'd spent the evening talking to.

Michael tightened his grip on the gun.

"This weapon contains Xervix Steel. One shot to your head, and you're dead. So get up and get out of here before I change my mind."

I slowly stood.

People shifted away from me as I moved, leaving an empty space around my feet. Some looked frightened, while others seemed angry.

I couldn't blame them.

They had just discovered that the person they'd welcomed into their home was half the species responsible for destroying their world.

I looked down at the compass in my hand.

Its screen was no longer broken.

A small red light blinked repeatedly, and the arrow pointed towards the northwest.

At least Styles had managed to fix it.

I slipped it into my pocket and looked at Michael.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly.

He didn't respond.

I turned towards the exit and began walking.

"Wait!"

I stopped.

Marie was standing behind me.

She looked at Michael, then at me, before suddenly walking towards him.

"Marie, don't," he warned, lowering his gun slightly.

But she didn't listen.

She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly for a moment.

"Thank you for everything," she whispered.

Michael looked confused.

"Marie, what are you doing?"

She pulled away, then hurried towards me.

"I'm coming with you."

I stared at her.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Marie, you don't have to do that."

"I know," she replied firmly.

"Then why?"

She folded her arms, giving me a look that made it clear she wasn't interested in an argument.

"Because I want to. And don't even try to change my mind, because I won't."

I couldn't help smiling.

"You're really stubborn, aren't you?"

"You have no idea."

I shook my head, still smiling.

"Fine. Let's go."

We walked towards the exit together, leaving the frightened survivors behind.

The night air greeted us as we emerged from the bunker. The gas station was quiet, and the streets were almost completely dark.

I looked at Marie.

"So, what's the plan?"

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bunch of keys, waving them in front of me with a mischievous smile.

I stared at them.

"Where did you get those?"

She grinned.

"Michael."

"Michael gave you his keys?"

"Not exactly."

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

She laughed.

"I slipped them out of his pocket when I hugged him."

I burst out laughing.

"You're unbelievable."

"Well, someone has to be."

We walked around the side of the gas station until we reached Michael's truck.

Marie unlocked it and climbed into the passenger seat while I got behind the wheel.

I inserted the key and started the engine.

The headlights illuminated the empty road ahead.

I glanced at her.

"Ready?"

She adjusted her seat belt and smiled.

"Let's go find your friends."

I nodded and pulled away from the gas station, heading northwest towards the safehouse.