Paul Santiago

7:20 PM

It's been six years. Six whole years since I last saw that little rascal. "Little"? I chuckle to myself. He wouldn't be little anymore. If I'm doing the math right, he'd be 22 by now-ripe for marriage even. The thought of it makes me smile. And here I am, well past the "ripe" stage myself.

"What's got you smiling like that?" A familiar voice teases from behind.

I turn around, and there he is-the so-called little rascal, standing tall and bold. Oh, how times have changed.

"Well, I'll be damned," I breathe out, taking in his height. "Look at you! You're what, 5'11?"

"6'2," he corrects, a grin on his face.

We stand there, just staring at each other for a few moments, and in those few moments, memories from the past flood back-like it was only yesterday we first fought in the ring. We met at The Gym, an underground club training fighters: boxers like myself, and martial artists-judo, Muay Thai fighters-like him. I was a lost cause back then, no past, no future. I had been in darkness my entire life, but he became the light I never thought I needed. A son I hadn't asked for, and yet one I couldn't have done without.

And now, seeing him after all these years, after both of us went chasing our dreams, I realize something: he saved me. He gave me a second chance at life, and he doesn't even know it.

"Yeah," I say, subtly wiping away a stray tear with the back of my hand. "Come on, buddy, let's get some grub."

I pat him on the back and lead him into the mall.

As we navigate through the mall, looking for a nice restaurant, I can't help but laugh when we bump into a lady, sending her things scattering to the ground. Oh, great.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I apologize quickly, kneeling down to help pick up her belongings.

"Are you okay, miss?" Khalan asks, bending down beside me.

The woman looks a bit flustered but smiles. "Oh, it's alright, really," she says, catching her breath.

She gathers her things and turns to leave. Figuring she might know the area, I ask, "Sorry to bother you, but do you know where the restaurants are around here?"

She kindly gives us directions, and we part ways with a quick "thank you."

---

After we settle down to eat, Khalan is mid-story, laughing as he goes on about my encounter with The Drew Anderson, one of the world's top MMA fighters.

"No way!" he exclaims. "So you're telling me you were in the same room as The Drew Anderson?"

"Yes, but he's actually not as tall as he looks on TV. Rumor has it he's 5'9, not 6 foot."

Khalan laughs, clearly happy that he's taller than one of his idols.

I try to join in, but I can't shake the feeling gnawing at me. I didn't just come here to catch up. I came here to tell him something important-that I'm quitting boxing for good.

I practiced at home, running through what I'd say, trying to brace myself for how he might react. Disappointment? Anger? Pain? The thought of losing him makes me sick. Or maybe... maybe he'll understand, a small voice tries to reassure me.

He's still talking about his excitement for his upcoming fight when I interrupt him.

"Hey, Khalan?"

"Yeah?"

I pause, my throat tightening. What do I say?

Come on, Paul, say something, I tell myself. He notices my silence and stops chewing, a worried look crossing his face.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"I just... I can't keep-"

BANG!

A loud bang echoes from across the restaurant. I don't know whether to be relieved for the interruption or worried.

"What was that?" Khalan asks, already standing.

"Stay here," I say, moving toward the door. Another bang echoes, then another, followed by an eerie silence. My heart sinks.

"Khalan, we need to-"

Bang!

"Was that a-?"

I never heard the rest. The next sound was so loud, so raw, it shattered everything. My ears rang, my vision blurred, and for a terrifying moment I was deaf and blind.

The store across from us exploded inward. Not from a bomb. Not from a car. From... something.

Something fast. Too fast. I couldn't even register its shape. My brain scrambled to define it-was it a vehicle? Some kind of carrier? An animal?

No-worse.

I looked closer and from the ruins emerged the most horrific things I've ever seen. They look deformed, like something twisted and unnatural. Their arms are long and gangly, heads shaped like mailboxes but warped, grotesque. And they're fast-terrifyingly fast.

I turn to Khalan, shouting, "GET DOWN!"

BANG!

People around me dropped to the floor, ducking, screaming into their hands, whispering prayers into the linoleum. Someone sobbed. Someone else threw up. My own breath was caught somewhere in my chest, refusing to come out.

It felt like a dream-no, a nightmare I couldn't wake from.

I turned, frantically scanning the chaos for Khalan, but before I could even say his name-

BOOM.

The second one crashed directly into the store we were in.

Glass rained down like needles. Shelves crumpled like paper. My scream never made it out.

Paul 2.

The creature comes crashing into the restaurant, sending tables and chairs flying. Screams fill the air as people scramble for cover, tripping over each other in panic. Some dive under tables, others cling to walls, while a few desperately search for family or friends separated in the chaos. The place is a nightmare-bodies pressed into corners, shattered glass underfoot, the acrid smell of fear permeating everything.

The creatures tear through people as if they're made of paper. Arms, legs, and faces vanish into their massive claws. It's a massacre.

I turn to Khalan. He's frozen, staring wide-eyed at the carnage, his breath shallow and rapid. Beads of sweat are already forming on his forehead. He's terrified, and honestly-so am I. But he can't know that.

We can't die here. Not now, not like this.

"Come on, kid. On your feet. We need to move-quietly and quickly," I say, my voice low but urgent.

But he doesn't move.

"Khalan, I swear to God, if you don't move now!" I whisper-yell, trying not to attract any attention. The urgency seems to snap him out of it; he nods, breathing hard, and gets ready to follow.

We start crawling toward a smashed window, shattered when those things broke in. We're almost there when I stop. As if reading my mind, Khalan pauses, too. We exchange a look-neither of us can leave everyone behind. It's against everything we've trained for, everything we stand for.

He veers toward a group of teenagers huddling under a table, motioning them to follow him with a finger to his lips. Meanwhile, I spot an elderly woman and a child near the restaurant entrance, inching toward what they think is an exit. But there's a creature just above them, crouched and ready to strike.

Without thinking, I snatch up a chair from the floor and hurl it straight at the creature. It hisses and turns, its eyes locking onto me. Good. The woman and child shuffle away, unnoticed. But now I'm staring down those dark, soulless eyes, and it's readying itself for a kill.

It takes a stance-coiled, like a predator preparing to pounce.

I yell to the rest of the strangers gathered unfer the tables, "Go! Now!" And then, throwing caution to the wind, I bolt toward the window, hoping Khalan and the others have already gotten a head start.

The creature lunges just as I leap out of the broken frame, feeling shards of glass scrape my skin. Thank God I don't skip leg day.

But this thing is fast-faster than I imagined. It's already on me, its breath hot on my neck. I'm almost out of breath, but then I spot a set of collapsed railings just ahead. An idea forms, wild but maybe possible. I push myself harder, leading the creature straight toward the ruined barrier.

When I'm inches away, I grab onto the one remaining intact railing and throw myself to the side. The creature charges, unable to stop, and crashes through the weakened railings, falling with a vicious snarl.

"Khalan!" I yell, glancing around. He's at my side in seconds, the teenagers close behind him. For now, we're alive.

A shriek catches my attention. The woman from earlier, the one who gave us directions, is pressed against a wall, staring as one of the creatures comes toward her. But as it moves to strike, my fallen creature lands right on top of it, sending both tumbling.

Without another word, the woman bolts, disappearing into the shadows in search of safety.

"Khalan, we need to keep moving," I say, nodding at the terrified kids with him. He gives a quick nod, determination tightening his face.

We sprint, the sounds of destruction and horror trailing behind us. Creatures tearing through walls, screams ringing out. Hell has been unleashed, and all we can do now is survive.

George

Chaos reigned supreme around me. People were screaming, gasping for air, desperately searching for safety. Panic suffocated the air, making me question-What on earth just happened?

"This is dispatch to headquarters," crackled a voice from the police radio strapped to my hip. The static buzz cut through the noise, but it did little to calm the storm.

"We need backup-immediately."

"Over here!" Detective Samuels called out, his voice strained and urgent. I turned to see him gesturing at me, his face a mask of exhaustion and barely-contained frustration.

I had been kneeling next to a little girl, no more than six years old, trying to console her. She'd been separated from her family in the chaos, her tiny frame trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. Her wide eyes were brimming with tears, and her hands clutched at my uniform as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality.

"I'll be right back, kiddo," I told her softly, forcing a reassuring smile. "We'll find your mom and dad, okay?" I stood and reluctantly hurried over to Samuels, my gut churning at the thought of leaving her alone, even for a moment.

"This is absurd," Samuels muttered under his breath as I approached. The disbelief in his tone mirrored the turmoil in my own mind. "And to think I was called here for a teenage disturbance. Unbelievable."

"What's the casualty count?" he asked, his voice suddenly cold and businesslike.

"Over fifty... maybe more," I replied, my voice faltering slightly. Even saying the number felt surreal.

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed insistently in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and sighed, shoulders slumping with the weight of the incoming call. "I'll be right back, George. Gather the casualty numbers and send them to headquarters immediately-" He paused as another officer ran past us.

"And where's that backup?!" Samuels barked.

"On the way, sir!" the officer shot back, his voice strained.

Samuels groaned, his frustration palpable as he turned away, taking the call. I watched him walk off, his posture sagging under the burden of the chaos around us. I'd never seen him like this before-he was always the unflappable one, the pillar of strength. Seeing him unravel made the situation feel all the more dire.

I turned my attention back to the wreckage strewn across the upper floor of the mall. Shattered storefronts, blown-out windows, overturned shelves, and goods worth thousands of dollars either destroyed or still smoldering from the earlier fires. The fire department had managed to douse the flames, but the acrid stench of burnt debris lingered in the air. I moved through the devastation, collecting wallets, phones, and lone shoes-ghostly remnants of the chaos that had unfolded just minutes ago.

Why would anyone in their right mind set off fireworks inside a mall? I thought bitterly as I handed a few items to the volunteers trying to reunite them with their owners. It didn't make sense. My eyes landed on something odd near the water fountain-footprints, but not like any I'd seen before. They were large, clawed, almost like those of a wild animal.

An animal? I shook off the thought. Maybe some exotic pet escaped in the confusion. People kept all sorts of strange animals these days.

I was just about to head back to check on the little girl when I felt a firm grip on my arm. I turned, half-expecting to see Samuels with another order.

"Pack up. We need to leave," Samuels said, his face tight with irritation and something else-fear?

"What? Why? What's going on?" I asked, my concern spiking.

Samuels just shook his head, his jaw clenched. "It's orders."

"What do you mean, 'orders'? Was it the call? What did they say?" I pressed, frustration bubbling up inside me.

"Just pack up, George," he snapped, rubbing his temples in a way I'd only seen when he was at the end of his rope. He sighed, as if resigning himself to something inevitable, and finally whispered, "C.I.A."

I stared at him, disbelief coursing through me. "The C.I.A.? What do they want with this?"

"They're taking over the case," Samuels replied flatly.

"Taking over what? This was an accident caused by some reckless teenagers! Do they even have jurisdiction?"

Samuels let out a bitter laugh. "They don't need jurisdiction, George. They don't need anything when they decide we're not equipped to handle it."

My hands curled into fists. "We can't just abandon these people! They need our help!" My voice rose, anger sharpening every word. "The C.I.A. doesn't care about these people like we do. Whatever they're after, they'll take it and leave."

He shook his head. "I don't like it either, but we have orders. We-"

"ALIENS! I'M TELLING YOU! YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME, I HAVE PROOF!"

Both our heads snapped toward the outburst. A woman, her clothes smeared with soot, hair wild and tangled, was being restrained by two officers. She clutched her stomach, her eyes wide and crazed.

"Hey! Let her go!" I shouted, rushing over. Samuels followed close behind, his face set in a scowl.

The officers, caught off guard, released her. "She's been saying the ones who did this were aliens," one of them scoffed. "Total nutcase."

"Let her speak," Samuels ordered sharply.

The woman fumbled with her phone. "I keep telling y'all, it's aliens! Look!" She thrust the phone at us, her hands shaking. "They were tall, nearly as tall as the fountains, with sharp teeth! They were-they were black! No, gray! It's hard to tell in the dark, but I'm telling you-"

"This is obviously some edited video," Samuels said dismissively. "You can't spread false alarms here, ma'am. People are already on edge."

"They do exist!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "Look at it-this isn't fake!"

"Ma'am, please. It's not safe here," I began, but before I could finish, a deep rumble shook the ground beneath us.

Everyone froze. The air grew thin, almost impossible to breathe. In the distance, a blinding explosion tore through the air, sending a shockwave that rattled my bones. The eerie sound that followed-a sharp, clicking noise-echoed in the aftermath.

From the smoky veil, something began to move. The woman screamed, breaking into a run, her cries of "Aliens! Aliens!" ringing out as she disappeared into the shadows.

I stood, paralyzed, as a shape emerged from the haze-an alien? just as she'd described. My heart hammered against my ribs. I'd never believed in monsters, but there it was, staring back at me.

Everything I knew crumbled away. This wasn't just a nightmare. This was real-terrifyingly, impossibly real.

The world as I knew it was gone. And nothing would ever be the same again.