With the road choked by wreckage, abandoning my car became the sole option. I plodded forward on foot, exhaustion and adrenaline warring in my leaden legs. The once-welcoming streets twisted into alien terrain, warped by bedlam and the encroaching panic that saturated the air. People peeked through their blinds, staring at the sky, huddled with their families.

Each step intensified the shaking, a relentless, subterranean vibration that seemed to rise from the planet's core. The thunderous rumble swelled, a menacing crescendo drowning out the night's subtler sounds. Streetlights sputtered overhead, throwing shivering, elongated shadows across the pavement.

Then, as if on cue, a violent shudder coursed through my feet, throwing me off balance. I careened hard onto the concrete and into the side of a car, the impact slamming pain across my face. Blood's metallic taste flooded my mouth. A curse tore from my throat, the sound strangely muffled by the ringing in my ears.

Disoriented, I clawed my way to my knees, my vision blurring as tears mixed with the blood that streamed down my face. The acrid stench of smoke assaulted my nostrils, a bitter reminder of the wreckage I had left behind. Even in the open air, the fumes of scorched rubber and gasoline burned my throat with every ragged breath I managed to draw.

The coppery scent of my own blood was a devastating warning of my vulnerability, its steady drip onto the pavement echoing the rhythm of my racing heart. Fear urged me to move, to find safety. I gripped the nearby vehicle's bumper, the cold metal a grounding presence as I dragged myself to a sitting position against one of the tires. Each breath was a struggle, my lungs fighting for air as my vision blurred, the world around me reduced to hazy, indistinct shapes. As eerily silent it had only been moments before, now the air was filled with a jarring array of car alarms, shouts, and fleeing footsteps.

Jaw clenched, I thrust my hand upward, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the vehicle's antenna. I clung to it, muscles straining as I wrenched myself upright, an effort that drained me to my marrow. The earth spun beneath me, a dizzying whirlwind that threatened to drag me under.

Then, a familiar voice pierced the fog of my pain. "Alec? Is that you?"

Emily's voice, tinged with fear and concern, cut through the haze. I blinked, struggling to focus as her figure materialized before me, face pale and etched with worry.

"Emily!" Her name escaped my lips in a rasping whisper, each syllable a battle hard-fought. She inched closer, steps tentative.

The adrenaline that had sustained me drained away, leaving me teetering on the precipice of collapse. Strength fled my body, abandoning me to the mercy of exhaustion and pain.

"Help me," I croaked, voice little more than a breath, a whimper that barely reached my own ears. I stretched my arms out towards her and took a faltered step. My legs crumpled, no longer able to bear my weight.

"Alec, oh my god!"

Emily lunged forward, arms outstretched to catch me as I pitched towards the ground. Her wiry strength took me by surprise as she braced herself against the car, shouldering my dead weight. Thank God for farm girls. I sagged against her, immensely grateful for the physical contact, the lifeline she extended.

"Thank God! Michael's been worried sick!" Her hug lasted only a moment, a fleeting respite before she pulled back, brow furrowed with concern.

I managed a weak nod. "You guys okay?" My voice was faint, the effort of speaking immense.

Her gaze darted over my blood-streaked face, a thin veneer of composure masking her fear. "We're okay, Alec. But you..." Her voice trailed off, the reality of my injuries evident in her expression.

"I was fine... until about thirty seconds ago," I tried to joke, but the humor was lost in the face of grim reality. Grinning made me wince, my head screaming in pain anew. Touching my forehead reopened the gash, sending a fresh rivulet of blood cascading down my face.

Emily flinched, her expression a kaleidoscope of horror and empathy. "I saw you fall... I didn't realize it was this bad. Let's get you inside."

Michael erupted through the front door just as Emily and I reached the steps, worry etched into every line of his face. He froze, transfixed by the blood painting my features. "Shit, Alec, you alright, man?"

"Yeah," I grunted, pain pulsing behind my eyes. "Just took a nasty spill. What the hell caused that shockwave?"

Michael started to reply, but Emily interjected, urgency sharpening her tone. "It's pandemonium out there, Mike. We need to get inside now."

Supported by their combined efforts, I staggered into the living room, legs trembling with each step. My gory appearance triggered a chorus of shrieks from the assembled girls, who scattered like startled birds. My attention snagged on the television in the corner, where chaotic images of fighter jets and helicopters engaged in aerial combat with enigmatic lights played out in lurid detail.

"Any word from the authorities?" I asked, my voice strained as Emily helped me onto the couch.

Michael's eyes never strayed from the screen as he shook his head. "Nothing definitive. Stay put, Alec. No use fretting over what you can't change."

I sank into the cushions, the room careening around me. "A towel, please?" I mumbled, my hand pressed to the wound on my forehead.

Emily hurried away, returning moments later with a damp towel, which she handed to Michael. He sat down beside me, his face drawn.

"Let me check that cut," he said, stern.

I flinched, instinctively pulling away. "I'm fine, Michael. It's just a scratch."

"No, Alec, this looks bad," he insisted, his tone firm. He reached out and, with a swift motion, grabbed my hair, holding my head still. "Let me see, damn it."

With reluctance, I surrendered, my hands falling to my sides. Michael daubed at the blood with a touch far gentler than I expected, uncovering the deep laceration above my eye.

"Christ, Alec..." Michael breathed, his face inches from mine as he examined the wound. His medical training kicked in. "There's debris lodged in here. We need to irrigate this."

I gave a feeble nod, my eyes drawn to the window where figures streaked past, their forms blurred by panic and confusion. The gravity of our predicament settled like a stone in my gut.

"Fine," I relented, the night's surreal events and searing pain blending into a fog of disbelief. "Just...be quick about it."

Michael probed at the wound again, eyes squinted. "Could be... worse... Where... There it is. Emily. Bring me a water bottle, quick," he snapped his fingers as he spoke, hand out.

"Stitches?" I queried through clenched teeth, my eyes screwed shut against the pain as I tried to focus on anything but Michael's fingers. His hand slipped and I gasped, eyes flying open. "I am gonna punch you in the nuts if you try to give me field stitches."

He leaned closer still, his features strained. "No, I don't believe so..." He began, his gaze boring into mine with unsettling intensity. "But Alec, I think you have a concussion. Your pupils are uneven. We need to get you to a hos--"

WHOMP.

Chaos erupted, sudden and absolute. A flash seared my retinas, accompanied by a concussive blast that hurled Michael and I backwards, couch and all. Shards of glass hailed down, razor-sharp and deadly. The wail of screaming engines, keening whines, and human wails crashed over me, a devastating wave of sound.

I choked on the caustic smoke that flooded the room, my lungs seared by each breath. My fingers scrabbled against the floor, desperate for an anchor in the madness. Screams echoed, disembodied and overlapping, punctuated by my own cry of "What the fuck?!"

Staggering to my feet, I hunched under upraised arms and lurched toward the kitchen, shouldering through a press of equally terrified bodies. "Michael! Emily!" I shouted, my voice all but lost in the tumult.

WHOMP.

Another thunderclap of sound hammered down, warping time itself. I hurtled through the air, my trajectory arrested only by the brutal impact against the wall, followed by an unceremonious crash to the floor. Confusion reigned.

WHOMP.

The world strobed, a disorienting flicker of light and shadow. I felt distant, detached, as if observing from afar. A gout of flame shimmered at the edges of my vision, just outside the window.

WHOMP.

Then, as shock and horror closed over me like floodwaters, the welcome black of unconsciousness mercifully swept me away.