Consider Read Free

Not since we were little.
    “Benji called,” I say to Dominick.
    Dominick checks his glasses for damage. “Call him back. Maybe he knows something.”
    My older brother, Benjamin Lucas Jr., joined the military two years ago after he graduated from high school. Dad convinced him to follow in his footsteps since he served in the army during the Gulf War and appreciated every minute of it. Said it taught him how to be a man, how to serve his country, how to protect a nation. I think it taught him how to be strong, distant, and paranoid. Now that I think about it, Dad was probably all those things beforehand. Maybe the military heightens the personality traits that already exist in people. Benji joined the army, completed basic training, and has been on active duty, stationed in various overseas locations ever since. Last I knew, he was in Germany. He only calls my parents once a month, if that.
    While I return Benji’s call, Dominick calls his mother. He lets out a silent sigh and slides his phone back into his pocket. She never answers him—even when he stays late at my house, even when technology from another planet announces the possible apocalypse. Since his father died last year, she spends long days working and longer nights mourning.
    Benji’s phone rings once before going to voicemail. I almost leave him a message, but I’m not sure what to say. I’m not sure about anything right now.
    Holograms have just descended and announced the end of the world. It has to be a scam.
    Dominick’s leg shakes up and down, making me more nervous. I place my hand on his knee to stop him.
    “Sorry,” he says. “The gunfire freaked me out.”
    Growing up with a military dad and brother, gunfire doesn’t bother me. Dad used to bring me to the shooting range with him, believing every person should utilize their right to bear arms. Even me, his bookish daughter. He wants me to enroll in the military after graduation and use the G. I. Bill for college, but I want to go straight to college and major in prelaw. I can’t wait to get away from the testosterone in my house and be around strong women for a change.
    I pat Dominick’s knee. Dad and Dominick have nothing in common except me. Maybe that’s why I like him. Dominick thinks my father thinks that he’s not man enough. What he doesn’t understand is that my dad has antiquated ideas of what being a man is.
    From a distance, the vertex glows on the dark horizon. It carries with it so many unanswered questions. I pick at a piece of Blue My Mind nail polish, peeling a whole section off my nail. Mom always nags me that nails matter—first impressions and everything, sign of good grooming. I wonder if she’ll think they matter after this.
    Dominick touches my elbow. “Alex, you’re bleeding. Are you okay?”
    I examine the back of my arm. A quarter-sized wound mixed with specks of dirt marks where I hit the ground. A stream of maroon blood trickles to my wrist. My first battle scar with the aliens.
    “It’s fine,” I say. “It doesn’t hurt.” I search through my purse for a tissue.
    His eyes tell me he’s not convinced. He’s probably thinking that it’s his fault since he pushed me to the ground. He’s always worrying about me, trying to protect me. Sometimes I like it. Sometimes it makes me feel small.
    I press a tissue against my elbow to stop the bleeding. After a minute of silence, I ask him, “Do you think it’s telling the truth?”
    He deliberates longer than I expect. He runs both hands around the back of his neck and holds them there like a hammock for his thoughts.
    “I think it’s too soon to decide. It said we have six months. It’s the beginning of August, so that would bring us to the end of January. That would mean,” he mentally calculates, “one hundred eighty-four days counting today.”
    In another hour or so, one hundred eighty-three days.
    “It could be lying,” he continues. “If there was really a comet capable of destroying the