Humanity Lost
A/N: Wrote this for the October challenge, "The Final Countdown," didn't pay close enough attention to the deadline. But here it is.
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Knock-knock. Knock-knock. Knock-knock-knock.
The signal is slow and rhythmic, not at all in line with the erratic thumping within my chest. I’m on my feet by the time the stone slab that is the wall of my prison slides open, and they appear, the aliens.
The first time I saw them, they seemed harmless enough—round, faceless, and much smaller than me. But I soon learned that it was their technologies that made them dangerous. An alien approaches me now, holding a sleek black stick. They’ve used this one before; it’s relatively painless. I still back away, but then the stick points at me, and my vision goes dark.
When I awake, I’m in a different room. The aliens are projecting pictures on the wall. This is our main form of communication, although I have been picking up some of their vocabulary during my time here.
A rough translation of their message: “You have seven days remaining before the destruction of humankind. Find the object to save your race.”
This is not the first message. I was given 50 days initially. Nothing has turned up during the first 43. I don’t know why I was chosen. I know I’m not the only one chosen. There are others on this same mission. I know I want to give up. I know I can’t afford to.
They let me out finally, and I immediately know that today is not a good day. The sky is ashen, and the air around me is hot enough to burn my skin. Something happened to the entire planet when the aliens came. Resources once in abundance were depleted. Most of the ground is now barren, which makes my task difficult.
I need to find a plant that will save mankind, one that emits something special that the aliens desperately need. The problem is that the aliens harvested most of our plants when they arrived here.
I begin to roam. There's no one around me. I don't find it. When I get tired, I walk back to the ship where they keep me. The door opens, and then I'm escorted back to my cell.
~~~
Knock-knock.
It's five days later when I at last see a good day. The clouds of ash have receded somewhat to make the sky a less angry pink. I can almost pretend like it's a normal day, if not for the destruction around me.
Today, I decide to rest by the crater that was once a lake and enjoy the hot breeze that caresses my skin. When I fail tomorrow, I know it will be the end for me, and the end of humankind. Relaxing, contemplating, reminiscing by the lake, I can't bring myself to care.
When I return to the ship, the aliens say nothing.
~~~
Knock.
It's the last day. When they let me off the ship this time, the door locks behind me with an air of finality. I get the message. If I don't find the plant, I shouldn't bother coming back.
Today is not as nice as yesterday, but I still consider doing nothing. Searching is futile.
A scream pierces the air, and I pause. In all my 50 days, I hadn't encountered another living being outside. I hear the scream again. It has a slight musical quality to it. My mind immediately goes to my child, the one I had lost, but I know it isn't De'lia.
Still, I go in the direction of the sound, reaching a clearing. I see an emaciated child, fiercely clutching a plant. An alien is attempting to wrestle it away.
I already know it's the wrong kind of plant. This is not what the aliens want. The child wins the battle and begins to hungrily consume the plant.
The alien pulls out a stick. I'm too far away to do anything when the alien pushes the stick through the child's body. The child stops eating and goes still. I don't understand until I see the blood seeping out of the place where the stick is planted.
The alien calmly retracts the stick and picks up the plant, studying it.
I look at the body slumped on the floor, and suddenly the child is De'lia. Without thinking, I surge forward, slamming into the alien from behind. We fall together, and we land with a sickening crack. I push myself up, but the alien lies still on the ground.
I flip it over and see that I've damaged its shell. The alien does have a face after all, hidden behind the white shell that encompassed its body. A face with two eyes, a mouth, and a strange protrusion in the center. The mouth is currently opening and closing, making sputtering noises.
The expression looks familiar to me, and I realize that the alien cannot breathe here. I saw the aliens do the same thing to my kind on their ship. They drew the air from the room so that they couldn't breathe. That was the punishment for the ones who fought back, who refused the mission.
The alien doesn't struggle for long. Soon, its odd pale eyes, with only a splotch of color in the center, are staring blankly up at the unforgiving sky.
I go to De'lia, cradle their head, caress their face. In the distance, the human ship that held me flies off. The ground begins to tremble. Holding De'lia, I weep.