Miramar was an island. There used to be nothing notable on it besides a huge military complex built in the last century. Vince and I had visited the place a few times with our dad, but I couldn't remember much. It was just a block of cement.

The island had changed a lot, however. Back then, the only way in or out was by boat and it could take days. Now, only a couple of hours. Our train glided above the water like a giant sea serpent, casting its shadow on the sparkling water. The bridge carrying it was state-of-the-art.

New investments had been poured into Miramar in the last few years. The island had become the success story and the country's poster child for tourism and real estate growth. The price of everything almost tripled. The people who had spent a lot of money to live here, naturally, didn't want anything to do with the old military complex, so they built a gated community on the other side of the island called the Honeyland.

It slowly appeared outside of my window. Seagulls flew in the sky, busy with their usual activities. Boats of different colors adorned the harbor. On the lush green hill, white villas were positioned like jewels on a giant crown.

We would stay there in one of Dad's colleagues' house as he had instructed us the night before.

I turned to Vince who was snoring like a walrus in his seat beside me. The guy was not a morning person at all, although we had left the hospital rather early, around 5 am. My injuries still looked scary, but they were nothing serious. The doctor had assured me that. Still, he had been very hesitant about me checking out early. Too bad, our trip couldn't wait.

***

Private Sherman, a 19-year-old with freckles covering his face, was our designated driver to the train station. His seriousness when listening to my dad's instructions was quickly replaced by enthusiasm like nothing I had seen before. The kid chatted with Vince the whole way from the hospital to the train station, nonstop. Aliens and classic cars, those were the main topics. At least, my brother seemed to get a kick out of it.

We stopped by my apartment briefly so I could gather some personal items. I didn't have a lot. On the way out, I stopped in the middle of my living room and scanned the place one last time. I had a strong feeling that I might not return anytime soon.

It funny how I always called Vince a hermit when, in reality, I wasn't much different. I couldn't think of a single person to who I should say goodbye.

My dad couldn't come with us. He had left right after entrusting us to Private Sherman and it didn't even cross my mind until we had stood at the station, bags in hands.

"He can't come," Vince said. His eyes were glued to the phone screen.

"What do you mean he can't come?"

I'd snatched the phone out of my brother's hand, reading the text message from Dad in disbelief. I should have known better. This wasn't the first time my dad pulled something like that. He had almost missed my mom's funeral for an 'emergency meeting'. It had taken everything in me not to hate him after that.

My dad worshipped the idea of a responsible leader. A captain who stayed with his ship until the very last minute. Well, the ship was sinking. If he had a little bit of common sense, he would know now was the time to jump.

"I can't believe it..."

I felt lost for words. The palpable anxiety couldn't be rationally explained. This felt the same as when Vince insisted on a lone skiing trip and ended up with both legs broken.

I tried to call my dad. It went straight to voicemail. I called him again, and again until we had to board the train.

"Lou," my brother squeezed my shoulder. "I don't know the details, but Dad told me he would come in a day or two when things were settled. Come on! This is dad. He'll be fine!"

I couldn't share my brother's optimism. The loudspeaker had announced we would be a few minutes delayed, so I looked around. The train was packed. Something abnormal lingered in the air, thickening it. I spotted some civilians, but eighty percent of the people who were in the same car with us were military personnel. They were of different ranks and branches, based on their uniforms, but all had stressed-out expressions on their face.

The world had gone to shit on such short notice, why would some people still want to be heroes?

I felt angry, but I couldn't dump my emotions on Vince.

Then my thoughts went to Robert. We had parted ways on even worse terms than when we had first broken up. I had not seen him again after he'd left my hospital room, and I had not wanted to. My brother, who always thought of himself as smart and helpful, had loudly announced that he'd lent Robert his RV. The guy might or might not join us on Miramar, but he had known about the shutdown and would 'figure things out'.

Robert was a survivor. There was no doubt in my mind about that. Still, I worried. My thought went back to the short man in suit with the armed soldiers. I just hoped Robert could work out some kind of deal since it seemed that they needed him.

Well, everyone needed Robert at one point or another. He was a capable man.

In the past few days, life seemed to push us together. The situation brought back many memories. Some were sweet while others, I would rather not revisit. Now, sitting here, I couldn't help but think about it all. I wondered where Robert was or what he was doing at the moment.

***

The female voice on the loudspeaker announced that we were approaching Miramar. I tapped Vince while looking out through the glass window. The train slowed down, then the final hiss from its break signaled the end of our journey.

All around us, people got up and gathered their belongings.
Vince still slept like a baby amidst all the commotion. I slapped his shoulder, hard.

"We're here!"

I acted like I would hit him again. My brother let out a loud yawn while avoiding my hand.

"Alright! Alright!"

He jumped up on his feet and opened the overhead compartment. There were our duffle bags. The red one was mine while the other two with multiple patches and enamel pins belonged to my brother. I smiled at the huge green alien patch on the side of one bag. It slightly improved my mood.

"We should call Dad again," I said.