Jian staggered his way down the cracked sidewalk, the golden blood still dripping in faint streaks behind him.
His vision blurred in and out, limbs heavy and aching.
As he passed the familiar gates of his school, he paused, panting, a dull ache throbbing in his chest.
A small crowd had gathered in front of the building. Students and teachers alike stood with necks craned upward, eyes glued to the sky.
High above, the alien ships moving slowly and silently like giant sentinels—dark metal glinting in the afternoon sun.
Some people were crying.
Most were just filming on their phones.
No one looked at him. Not really.
Even drenched in strange golden blood, stumbling with every step, Jian was invisible.
Is this what the end looks like? He wondered.
He pushed on.
Just across the street, the little café he and his friends used to hang out in was still open.
The windows rattled slightly, but the TV was on, volume low.
