Cal was exhausted.
He'd gone to bed with a headache and managed, somehow, to drop off quickly. Sometime in the night, he awoke, head pounding. He stared vaguely at the shadows on the wall until sleep came again.
He was on a suburban street, the sky blue, the sun bright, the grass green. He was walking, shouting hellos to any friend that populated every doorstep.
"Hey," he said, walking up to a new, old friend, "What's up?"
"Nothing much," she replied, "You?"
Cal looked up, catchphrase on the tip of his tongue.
The sky. The sky was up. Why didn't he just say it?
Instead, he frowned, pointing just above the infinite rooftop horizon.
"What's that?"
There were two rings, two pink-shaded wisps of clouds joined together, two looking-glasses, side-by-side. Through one, the sky brightened. Through the other, twilight deepened.
She frowned.
"It's probably nothing, just--"
A drone split the air, a heavy groan that rolled back the clouds into smoke, spilling the twilight across the sky. The blue rippled into black, and twilight swallowed the sun.
"Oh, my God--"
"--we should get inside--"
But they stood rooted the ground. Cal wondered if this was a dream.
A terrible roar split the air, and the twilight became darkness itself, empty and hungry. The tiles flew off the roofs, drawn straight up into the heavens.
Cal felt it clawing at him, tearing at his feet, thrumming through his heart. Cars flew by overhead, and she screamed. Cal was blown off his feet, and with terror, he realized that he was going to die.
Strong arms seized him around the shoulders, warm and solid. The roaring intensified, and he began to slip. Up, up up.
"Let me go!" he shouted.
Her feet remained firmly on the ground as the sidewalk flew past him, as earth and everything else rushed up to oblivion.
Cal screamed at her, struggling wildly in that grip which was slowly, slowly slipping away.
"Let me go! Let me go! I want to go--"
Cal broke away, flew up, up, up
and fell awake.
He remained frozen, tangled in his stale blanket, for hours.
He wanted to die.
