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Simone

Two and a Half Years Ago

This crowd is suffocating. Bodies press into me from all sides. They cram into me, pushing me forward. There are too many people in front of me. We’re at a standstill, but people keep pushing for us to move forward. It’s crushing, it’s terrifying, and if there were any other way for me to survive the world ending, I’d do it.

If I want to survive the next storm hitting the city, I have to force myself through this crowd of bodies. We’re all vying to get into this baseball stadium where we’ve been promised safety.

I suck down another lung full of air before the crowd behind me tries to swarm again. There are hundreds, no thousands, of us all trying to force our way inside into the safety we werepromised. I can’t even say that I’m not one of the ones trying to force herself forward because I am. Everyone is pushing and pushing, and there’s an unyielding mass of bodies in front of me.

If I pass out, all of these women are going to trample me to death. If that happens, then my last few moments of life are going to be spent in terror with sweaty bodies pressed up against me, and not in a good way. If I’m going to die with sweaty bodies all around me, it better be because I’m enjoying myself too much in some weird freaky orgy.

Black spots creep into my vision as I try and fail to get another deep breath. I try to tell the person pushing into my back to stop for a second. I need her to ease up so I can breathe before pushing into me again. She isn’t paying any attention to me, though. Tears run down her face. Her hands are clasped in another woman’s who keeps telling her it’ll be okay.

It’s not going to be okay because every time I try to get a breath, I feel my lungs pushing a little more air out and refusing to refill.

Panic flares to life in me as I lash out at everyone around me. I’m clawing at some woman’s hair, trying to force myself higher, like it’s the height I need to breathe and not the pressure from all sides to ease. I’m mostly ignored due to everyone panicking as much as me.

The black spots in my vision grow, and my arms start to slow in their fury to get help. I can’t move, I can’t get enough air, and there’s no one here to help me.

My vision fades, my limbs fall limp, and I start to lose consciousness. I think I’m dying. No, I’m almost certain that I’m dying.

Bright light pinpricks against my eyelids and the crushing pressure of bodies all around me starts to fade. I don’t know if it’s my mind giving me peace in my final moments or if thecrowd is moving now that it’s too late for me. That would be my luck.

“You can’t die now,” a warm, masculine voice whispers in my ear as a soft glow fills the darkness behind my eyelids.

I think it’s an angel. I haven’t believed in a higher power in a long time. This man holding me, cradling me as I die on this concrete pavilion leading up to some baseball stadium I don’t even know the name of, is the closest I’ve ever come to believing. He’s like a guardian angel here to ease the panic in my final moments.

All of my senses start to fade, and I drift into a dark unconscious. The last thing I hear before I think I’m passing on from this life is a strangled plea whispered close to my ear. “I just found you. You can’t leave me now.”

My senses come back to me slowly, so much so that for a moment, I wonder if everything that happened before I passed out was some very realistic nightmare.

Everything comes back to me like a jolt. My muscles tense, and air rushes into my lungs as I gasp. It’s like I’m still back in the crowd, being crushed under the weight of thousands of bodies all moving against one another.

A hand is on my back as I bolt upright. Another hand clasps one of mine. Then, there’s that same calming presence from when I thought I was dying. My breaths are ragged and painful as I keep trying to inhale my lungs fully before releasing a breath.

I want to savor the air, not believing it’s really making its way into my lungs. My eyes shoot open, wanting to know who it is that’s trying to comfort me. Only, it’s not a person.

“Deep breath,” the glowing mass of white light murmurs to me in the same voice that told me not to die. I do as he says, sucking in another deep breath and holding it as I watch the way the energy of his body seems to move. “Let it out.”

The rush of air hits what I’m assuming is the alien’s face, but it’s just more of a white glowing light that seems to ripple and pulse with energy. The shape of it is roughly a head shape, sitting on top of a neck shape, on top of what looks like a normal human’s chest, if said chest was devoid of any features.

My eyes fall to the hand in mine, the way the energy splits off to create fingers that are wrapped around mine. It should have me freaking out. I should be kicking and screaming and telling him or it to get away from me. Instead, I look back up to his face, where I would imagine his eyes would be if he had eyes, and I tilt my head to the side. I don’t notice that my breathing is calm until the room around us grows silent.

“You’re more beautiful than I thought possible.” The glowing mass of energy that is this alien’s head doesn’t seem to move even though the words are coming from somewhere.

None of this makes any sense, so why is my mind taking all of this in like it’s completely normal? No, not even that it’s completely normal, but that I’m kind of into it. I’m into it, I’m relaxed, and I want to know why this energy alien man is holding my hand and calling me beautiful because I like it way too much.

I’m so focused on liking all of this that I don’t even think to ask any questions. I’m sure I have some, somewhere in the rational part of my brain that’s still unconscious.

I’m mesmerized by how the energy ripples through the alien in front of me. I try to memorize the way it moves because there’s a pattern to it. I can’t quite make it out, but I’m certain there’s a method to the madness of the way it moves.

We stare at one another for long moments, or I think he’s staring at me, too. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking. He did sayhe thought I was beautiful, so I can’t imagine him saying that and not looking at me, right?

“I’m sure you have many questions, and I will answer all of them.” His warm voice fills the air around us, and I realize the pattern of the energy does shift when he speaks. My eyes widen, and I feel a twinge of pride at noticing something so small. The glow of the energy seems to brighten for a moment before it dims again so as not to hurt my eyes. “I’m still growing accustomed to having you in my life. I imagine this will be a strange learning experience for both of us.”

“What will?” I ask, my rational brain starting to wake up and bringing all of the questions with it.