(Photo by Pille Kirsi)

Friday morning came and again I stayed on my couch, staring up at the ceiling. I was waiting for another Broadcast, wondering what they would say this time. The less than stellar introduction of their cities still weighed heavily on my mind but most people, most nations, seemed to have calmed down at least a bit. There hadn’t been any other attempts to attack the cities and the children who’d gone there without their parents had been returned as promised.

It was amazing to me just how quickly I was beginning to accept the changes that were taking place. Case in point was the fact that I was just waiting for some update or message from the aliens. On Monday it freaked the whole world out, but now I could hear the familiar drone of traffic outside my apartment as people were starting to go back to work. School was even scheduled to start back up again on Monday.

After a few minutes I decided there wasn’t a Broadcast coming right away. Since the last couple came as I awoke I was beginning to assume that was an intentional element. If they could make it the same time of day everywhere on Earth then they could probably have people hear their Broadcasts first thing when they woke up. Maybe there would be something later in the day, or maybe they were giving us some time to get used to them and their cities being here.

Regardless, I was awake and hungry so I got off the couch and went to go make breakfast. There was half a package of sausages I needed to use up, as well as a few more eggs. I grabbed the nub of cheese and a few potatoes out of the fridge and got to work on them. Cheesy potatoes with eggs and sausage sounded like a good way to start the day. An onion or chives would be nice but I didn’t have them.

While I cooked, I made a point of leaving the news off. Brandi and I had been glued to the screen watching all the news we could yesterday about the cities. I was a bit overwhelmed by it and figured I could stand to ignore it for a little while. I needed a quiet morning.

Brandi came out of the bedroom right as I was pulling the skillet of cheesy potatoes off the heat.

“Mmm, that smells good,” she said through a yawn and stretched. “Sorry I haven’t been much help.

I shrugged and nodded towards the cabinet where I kept the dishes.

“Set the table while I bring the food over?” I asked.

She hurried over and grabbed us each a set of dishes and utensils. Neither of us seemed to be in a very talkative mood so we ate in relative silence. I glanced out the window from time to time, noting the traffic once again. It wasn’t as heavy as it normally should be, but it was a comforting sight to see nonetheless.

“You wanna go on a walk?” I asked Brandi as we finished eating.

“A walk?” she sounded skeptical, like I’d just asked her something ridiculous.

“Yeah, you know, a walk. Get some fresh air, stare at some trees, maybe listen to the birds. There’s a great park just down the road from here with a lot of great trails.”

“I guess so,” she replied, though she still looked a bit reluctant.

“What?” I asked. “You’re looking at me like I’ve gone crazy or something.”

“I just…is it safe to go outside?”

Now it was my turn to be confused.

“Why wouldn’t it be safe?” I asked. “I go there all the time. I promise the trees will not attack us unless we provoke them. With chainsaws.”

That got a smile from her.

“It’s not the trees I’m worried about,” she said, “but I guess I’m just overreacting. The really crazy days are over now, right?”

She was trying to sound confident but I could still hear the fear in her voice. I still didn’t know what had happened to her that made her leave her apartment and come here so I couldn’t say whether her continued concern was warranted or not.

“I would be amazed if we ran into anything…problematic at the park,” I assured her. “But to be safe, I have a nice walking stick we can bring along to whack anyone or anything that gets in our way. Okay?”

She agreed and brightened up even more when I pulled my walking stick out from the closet. It was a sturdy, five foot length of solid oak. I meant what I’d said about being able to use it as a deterrent. More than one dog had been dazed by a good knock to the head by this stick.

“It’s a bit chilly,” I said after opening a window to check. “I’ve got some sweaters in the closet, or a spare jacket if you like.”

Brandi grabbed a sweater and I threw on my own jacket before we left the apartment. I let Brandi carry the walking stick and before long she was slowly waving it around like a sword.

“I think I’m beginning to understand the appeal,” she said when she noticed me watching her.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Kids are always playing with sticks,” she said, “usually boys. Waving them around, sword fighting or whatever.”

“Like a toddler playing with the wrapping paper and cardboard boxes at their birthday party and ignoring the actual presents,” I said.

“It really is the simple things in life that make us happy, isn’t it.”

I wasn’t sure if she was actually being philosophical or just talking off the cuff so, not sure what to really say, I shrugged and left it at that. The rest of the walk to the park was quiet. The morning traffic was getting farther away and the trees helped to swallow the sound.

“How’d I not know this was here?” Brandi asked as soon as we reached the park. “How big is this park?”

“There’s a few parks like this in the city,” I told her, “but they’re all kind of tucked away so unless you know where to look you can miss them.”

“I’ve lived here for almost three years and I had no idea,” she said.

“A quick search online can point them out for you.”

“Well that would require me to be looking for them,” Brandi admitted. “I guess I didn’t expect there to be anything like this here so I never thought to check.”

I had a few favorite trails here so I steered us towards the nearest one. There were a series of descending pools filled with lily pads and, more often than not, ducks. At the end of each pool was a short waterfall that fell into the next pool in the series. If we were unlucky there would be someone’s dog splashing through the water, chasing the ducks, but today we were lucky. We didn’t see anyone else as we walked along and the pools were delightful. Below the pools was a shallow marsh with a boardwalk winding through it.

“Sometimes the boardwalk’s covered in these huge slugs,” I told Brandi once we were a good ways into the marsh. “One time I wasn’t paying attention and–

“Stop. No. Stop,” Brandi protested and squirmed at the implied consequences of my inattentiveness.

I laughed and didn’t finish my story.

“It’s so peaceful here,” she said after a few more minutes of walking.

“Yeah, I love it here.”

“And there’s, like, no one else here.”

“That’s not so common,” I admitted. “Usually there’s plenty of other people here, though the park’s big enough that it never feels crowded.”

“Wonder where they all are,” Brandi said.

“Probably all at home,” I said, “or at work. I guess a weekday morning wouldn’t have as many people here as a weekend afternoon.”

“Or they’re at one of the new cities,” Brandi said, her tone darkening. “Sorry,” she added a moment later. “Didn’t mean to bring down the mood.”

“You’re fine,” I waved away her concern. “And you’re probably right. I–

Both our phones began to chime. At first I thought it was another emergency message but it turned out to be a mass text from the school district.

Due to significant loss of both faculty and staff, as well as a significant decrease in the number of enrolled students, classes will not be resuming next week as originally planned. We are currently looking into combining schools which may change the school you are currently assigned to. We will keep you updated as we learn more information. If you have received this message but no longer intend to return to our schools please reply to this message with a NO. Thank you and have a good day.

Brandi and I looked up from our phones at about the same time.

“We’ve lost that many people?” Brandi gasped. “How? How can anyone already be so sure that they aren’t coming back? Just pack up and leave without a second thought?”

“You mean give up a job where you’re underpaid and overworked?” I asked, half-joking. “All so you can go to a place where you can do whatever you want and never have to worry about money or debt again? Maybe not even get sick ever again?”

I may not have meant it all that seriously but Brandi looked like she was really considering my words.

“Not have to deal with politics or parents,” she said, though far more seriously than me. “It still sounds too good to be true,” she added with a heavy sigh, “but man would I love for it to be true.”

“It might be,” I admitted, “but until I know for certain I’m not taking that risk.”

Brandi kept looking at her phone, deep in thought. I wondered if she was actually reconsidering about going to the cities Yesterday she’d been adamant but today she seemed far less certain.

“How long, um, do you think before they reopen the schools?” she finally asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “They’re probably still trying to figure out who’s still here and who’s left. Then they’ll have to reshuffle all the teachers and staff and students around to make sure the schools that are kept open have everyone they need.”

“I bet all the art teachers are gone. English teachers, too,” Brandi chuckled but she wouldn’t look at me and I could see tears trying to escape her eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised if half our students have moved to the new cities, and half of the ones we’re left with will probably be hiding out in bunkers for the foreseeable future. How many extra math teachers do you think they’ll have? Then what happens when they have to start letting the extra teachers go?”

We had stopped walking and were standing beneath a large tree on the edge of the marsh. A bench was nestled up against the trunk and I pulled Brandi over to it and sat us both down. Unfortunately I’d had the same worries as her and I didn’t have any answers either.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “There’s probably a lot of people having the same sort of existential crisis right now. If so many people are moving to the new cities then there’ll be a lot less demand for just about everything. It all depends on who stays and who goes, you know. It’s like, if everyone who happens to work for fast food restaurants goes to the cities then all those places will have to close. But what if the workers all stay and instead the people who like to eat out at those places all go to the cities instead? Then again, it could even out and we’re left with a good mix of everyone, still, just fewer then before. So a few places close and people get shuffled around but overall things kind of stay the same. All we can do is wait and see.”

Brandi’s phone chimed. She glanced at it for only a moment before putting it away, clearly bothered by what she’d seen.

“What?” I asked.

She kept blinking as she fought to keep from crying.

“It’s my family,” she said at last. “I’ve got a lot of siblings and we’re all scattered all over the place and we don’t get to see each other that often. Maybe once every few years, you know, but we’ve always been really close, always had strong relationships with each other. And yesterday they started texting back and forth about trying out the cities. First it was my sister, then a brother, and now…now they’re all over there and saying what a wonderful place it is and begging me, begging me to join them and it’s breaking my heart. Because either they’ve been tricked or brainwashed or whatever, and I’m the only one left, or I’m the idiot sitting here too afraid to make the leap.”

The tears she’d been resisting finally broke through and began to fall and it was not an elegant sort of crying that movies so often portray. This was the messy, wet and snotty sort of crying that demanded a significant amount of tissues almost immediately. As neither of us had tissues on us it was an especially messy affair.

“What about you?” Brandi managed between sobs, wiping her eyes and nose with her hands in a futile attempt to stem the flow. “Any of your family gone over there and been asking you to join them?”

“No,” I said, terribly uncomfortable but not wanting to make her feel any worse.

“Everyone stayed then?”

I shifted on the bench but Brandi was looking at me so earnestly that I couldn’t ignore her question.

“I was an only child,” I said as quickly as I could, “and my parents both passed away. I think I’ve got an uncle back east but I’ve never seen him outside of a couple funerals so, I don’t really have any family to worry about.”

“Oh,” Brandi said in such a pained voice that I regretted answering her.

“It’s fine,” I assured her. “I, you know, can’t miss what I never really had. I mean, I loved my parents and they were great, but they had me when they were already older. They were the cool, old parents when I was growing up, and died peacefully of natural causes a few years ago.”

Her phone chimed again but Brandi ignored it, instead staring off into the trees.

“Do you think,” she spoke almost too quietly for me to hear, “it would be a bad idea to just go and see? Even if they don’t let me come back, at least I’d be with my family, right?”

“I suppose,” I said, though if this was some sort of trap there was no reason why she should assume she’d be able to see her family, though, again, I didn’t think this was some sneaky way for the aliens to conquer Earth. I just didn’t think it wise to take them at face value.

But Brandi was so obviously torn up over the situation that I doubted she’d be able to live with herself until she at least saw her family if only to make sure they were alright.

“I think I have to go,” she said. “I’ll go and come back.”

“Okay,” I replied.

“Thank you for…for everything,” she said, standing and wiping her face one last time. “I’ll see you this evening for dinner, okay?”

“Sounds good,” I told her, getting to my feet as well. “I’m making a casserole so come hungry. Bring your whole family if you like.”

She nodded and a smile crossed her face.

“Okay, I’m ready. I want to go to the city.”

For a moment we looked at one another, uncertainty on both our faces. Then, the next moment I was alone in the woods.

I picked up my walking stick, which had been left leaning against the tree trunk, and made my way back home. The whole while I couldn’t help but wonder whether or not I should make a large casserole for dinner. Growing up in a small family meant we made small meals and rarely if ever had left overs and as a result I tended to find the idea of leftovers a bit unsettling. If I made a large casserole and only had myself to eat it, that would be a lot of left overs.

“It’s just food,” I told myself as I decided to make the casserole. Better to have leftovers than not enough to feed everyone.