September 5, 2048
The next morning, he shoved the cosmetics case away from the door and watched the brilliant emerald strip running across the horizon.
Gathering his supplies, augmented with several cans of Coke and a dozen candy bars, Jubal went out into the empty streets.
He found a used car lot two blocks down. He blew the lock off the door of the of?ce with one of the shotguns, no longer afraid of drawing anyone’s attention. The town was dead. He could feel it. He didn’t know where the zombies were, but he would worry about that later. Jubal grabbed a handful of keys from a pegboard in the small of?ce and unlocked vehicles until he found one with plenty of gasoline. It was an old truck. He tossed the guns and the rest into the passenger seat and drove away.
Sometime that afternoon he crossed into Mexico.
He slept in the desert that night, stretched out in the bed of the truck.
The sky was clean and clear and full of stars. Jubal wondered how many people were left to wish upon them.
He dozed for a while, only to jerk awake for no apparent reason. He couldn’t remember any dreams.
Then he heard it. A nearly silent hum.
Jubal lay quietly in the truck’s bed, afraid to move. High above him something passed over the face of the moon.
It was one of the alien?ying machines.
He held his breath until the hum was long gone.