New World

    Al surveyed his surroundings, but there was not much to see. The North and the East held nothing but sand. To the South and the West were his new base and the pathetic bazaar town that surrounded it. It was a far cry from Germany.
    The army had been good to Al, so far. He joined right out of high school because it just seemed like a natural fit. College was not for him, at least not right away. His mom barely earned enough to get by, certainly not enough to help him pay for college, and his dad was not in the picture. Being in debt for years was not an attractive option, so he did what would pay him the most until he could go to school.
    Basic training was a breeze for him. He had always been one of the most athletic kids in school and never had many luxuries growing up, so it did not take much adjustment at all. After being initially deployed in Germany, he now found himself in Afghanistan. It was different there. The smell, the air, the feel... everything was different. He did not like this place at all. It felt more like back home, Texas, than Germany did, but there was something about it he just did not like.
    The next day, his unit was scheduled to go to a nearby town. Sergeant Cardenas told him they were going to “assess the situation,” and he would not be any more specific. This sergeant was unlike any other commanding officer he had been under. He was distant, almost in an uninterested way. Maybe he did not want to get to close to any of his men, or maybe his personality was a coping mechanism. Everyone had his own way to distract himself; Al had been following professional wrestling more closely in the army than he did in high school.
    He turned around and started walking back to the base. Children pestered him for money, and he tried explaining to them that he did not have any. They did not understand. He did not like this place, but it was home for the time being.
   

Home

    Ryan drives the long drive home, just like he does every day. It always seems to take longer coming home from work than it does going, even though he did both at peak rush hour. All he can figure is that the destination makes all the difference.
    Work is his refuge. People respect him, listen to him, and care what he thinks. He can tell someone what to do, or even ask for something, without it being questioned or scoffed at. He has a sense of meaning and a clear mission. He never wanted to be one of those guys who lives for his job; his father was one of those. As the days go by, he finds it harder and harder to say there is any place he would rather be.
    His marriage has been slowly deteriorating probably since before it was a marriage. He and Elena were happy at some point, but it was so long ago that he does not even know whether it counts anymore. At least for a while, when they were dating, they loved each other and spending time together more than anyone or anything else. Now, civility is at a premium some days.
    The children were a blessing at first, and they still are, but they changed everything. When Jeremy, their oldest, was born, Ryan died and Dad rose from his ashes. He does not mind being a father, he loves it, but he misses Ryan. He misses being able to do whatever he wants without worrying about how it will affect the lives of people who need him.
    He twists the key and the car goes silent. When he enters the house, he will hear more silence. There will be a, “Hey,” a few pleasantries, and little else until the children come home from their after-school activities. He really hates the sound of that door knob turning.

Priorities

    “Shit, he's there? We gotta go now! L-Dog, Terrell, strap up and meet Cue at the car. Me and Orlando are gonna get everyone ready. Imma call you and let you know what's what.”
    Skittles snapped his fingers and Orlando followed him out the back. He had just heard that Fiz was in Bushwick, only a few blocks away. Fiz had had a neon bulls-eye on his back since he testified against Demetrius, and everyone knew they could not let him leave Brooklyn alive.
    “Yo what the hell's he doin' here anyway?” Orlando asked aloud, either to Skittles or himself. “Mothafucka knows he gonna get dropped as soon as he comes up around here. That price y'all put on his head... even little school-kids gonna call out if they see him.”
    “I'll drive, you start callin everyone,” Skittles ordered as he got into the driver's seat. The whole thing seemed off to him too. It did not make any sense for Fiz to be eating at Tony's, so close to his old spot; Tony's is not even that good. After a couple of minutes, they pulled up behind Cue's car, about half a block from Tony's.
    As Orlando and Skittles got out of the car, the others approached with the SUV's height hiding everyone from view. “Aight, Jay and ET on their way. Holiday aint answer, so I texted him. Whatever, he get her or he don't,” Orlando explained to the half-listening group.
    “Don't make a damn lick of sense for that boy to be out here,” breathed Terrell in between puffs of his cigar. “I been in this game a minute and aint never seen nobody that foolish.”
    “And who the fuck he with?” asked L-Dog with his hand on his gun. “I never seen them before. You think they law? Shit, probably got law all around here waiting for us to step.”
    Skittles wanted to call everyone back and just have someone follow him, but he knew that was not an option. Jay and ET pulled in behind the SUV, and it was time to act. Skittles and the whole gang's reputation was on the line.

Hail Mary

    Bill cannot believe he's actually going through with it. He has been just scraping by for a long time, but never thought he would go this far for money. Then again, he had never been this desperate for it before right now.
    What else could he do? Juana, his wife, seems to be getting better ever so slowly. Her chemo is working, but she isn't, and the bills try to eat his soul when he comes home every day. She keeps telling Bill she is ready to go back to work, but that is unacceptable. The doctors said that stress could hurt her, so her students will have to wait until the cancer is in remission.
    Has hasn't told her how bad things have gotten with money; she can't know. She doesn't know that they are probably less than a month away from getting kicked out of the house. She doesn't know that his hours have been cut and the extra shifts he has been picking up are at a fast food restaurant. Knowing any of that could... well, he doesn't want to think about that.
    He didn't believe Marco and Dwyane were serious when they told him about this opportunity to make money. They're guys he has known for a while, but he thought both of them were story-tellers. He believed about half of what they'd tell him, if that. The stories about them knocking off bodegas seemed real enough, but he wasn't sure about the fights with gangs. When they told him that they could make him enough to relieve at least a good chunk of his debt, he had to listen.
    Bill thought $50,000 didn't seem possible from anything short of a bank robbery, and here he is. It's too late for second-guessing or doubt, everything is ready to go. He tries to remember his role as Dwyane opens the door and runs inside, instinct will have to take over from here.

Night on the Town

“I'm in! Yo... yea gimme a shot too...” The group downed the shots of whatever that tall guy ordered. “Whoo!” left Jay's mouth with no thought or intent. He slammed down his shot glass and went back to drinking his beer.
    He couldn't name a single person around him, and he was not even totally sure how he had gotten there. There had been a lot of driving around, and he was definitely in the passenger's seat of a car that the Malcom X-looking guy was driving for a while. He might have been the only one in the car with him. It had been a while since he'd seen that guy.
    “Nah dude, that place sucked. This is much better.. what's it called?” Jay spat at to the group of guys in front of him. “Ruger's. Yea but the girls were so much better at the The Generation. It's a damn sausage fest in here,” replied the guy with the Cowboys hat. “Yea but the girls there were stuck up. At least everyone here's pretty chill... wait, what's this place called?” droned Jay.
    Jay had been with his brother and cousins at the beginning of the night, but hadn't seen them in hours. He wasn't even totally sure when he had gotten separated from them... it must have been at that small club with all the mirrors. Tom, his older cousin, was slowing things down anyway. He was drunk enough that he had to have gotten kicked out of somewhere at some point in the night.
    “Is Craig still having that party?” asked the tall guy. “I... I think so,” said the guy with the huge biceps and the beer gut. “He said it was gonna be going on all night, and it sounded like a lot of people were there when I called.” “Let's go!” ordered the guy in the Cowboys hat. “Hell yea, I'm in!” shouted Jay. He didn't know about his family, but his night was nowhere near done.

A Fresh Pot

    The coffee pot finished brewing, but it was less full than usual. As the drips stopped, the smell of coffee covered the smell of smoke better than it had in a long time. No cigarette was burning today, so the aroma only had to compete with stained-on smells.
    Kelly had made coffee for one for only the third time in 37 years. The first time was when Dave could not get out of a business trip to Cleveland, and she could not go because of their niece's baby shower. The other time was four years ago, when he had the first heart attack. She wondered whether the pot would ever brew more than enough to just fill her mug again.
    For the last five day
s, the coffee machine had actually been working harder than usual. Susan and Jeff, their daughter and her husband, had been saying at the house. Bree, Liam, and Eddie, Susan and Jeff's children, also stayed, but they are not old enough to drink coffee. They helped with the wake, funeral, and kept her company for an extra night
    Keith, Kelley and Dave's son, was only able to stay two nights because of work. Dave was so proud when he got the job at that financial firm in Manhattan. He never stopped bragging every chance he got about his son taking Wall Street by storm. Kelly was proud, probably prouder than she ever had been, but could not enjoy it. She felt selfish for not wanting him to move away, but would never show it. She did everything she could to make Dave happy.
    Kelly turned the coffee pot off as soon as she poured the cup, as was her habit. Dave would always throw a fit when any of his hard-earned money was being wasted. Kelly drained the cup over about twenty sips, as she always did. She didn't even like coffee.

Silence

    Silence    . Nothing else sounds familiar sound to Jameel anymore. It has been months since the expedition ended, and almost as long since he last saw Marissa. He often wonders whether the quiet will kill him before his sanity runs out.
    The mission was a no-brainer, even if few people knew about it. Nuclear war seemed imminent, especially after Syria got nukes, followed by North Korea. People were wondering when, not if, someone would push the button.
    At a secret meeting between the American, Russian, and Chinese presidents, the powers agreed upon an expedition to search for a habitable planet. Each country was to send three representatives from various fields on the dangerous  mission, and not even their families were allowed to know the nature of their assignment.
    The scientific community had already determined that Alpha-rho 94's atmospheric conditions were 90% the same as earth's and that it had water. If human life had a chance anywhere in the universe besides earth, that was the planet. Unfortunately, they knew nothing about its life forms.
    Jameel, a loyal American, would never have turned down any mission his country gave him. A five-star general, he was the trip's military advisor. Nobody expected the crew to have to fight, so his job was more observational. He was to determine what fortifications, based on the terrain and life forms, the coalition would need to secure the territory. Although only the Chinese considered it a strong possibility, he was also to evaluate the weapons and combat capability of any intelligent life on the planet.
    The mission may have seemed like a great display of cooperation among the global powers, but the crew knew it was a hail mary. Russia and the United States were no more likely to sign any arms treaties at the expedition's onset than they had been a decade before, but knew they had to cooperate for this.
    Now Jameel stands in the observation room of the ship, reflecting on everything that went awry. Earth is mere hundreds of miles away from him, its smoldering husk reminding him how helpful the mission could have been.

Dirty Window

“Somebody, please, help me!” Marie is banging on the filthy window, screaming for help that will not come. Under the layers of fear and the primal instinct for survival, she knows that nobody can see or hear her from the third floor of this long-forgotten house.
    The banging on the window is powerful is enough to disturb the whole building, but no one inside minds it. A floor below, clouds of dust barely big enough to make a mouse sneeze tumble from the walls at the command of her fists. The layer of dust on Ryan's face is thickening, and the same is happening to the rest of his body a few feet away.
    Thoughts are racing through Marie's head, with one replacing the last as soon as it is forms and none ever truly being focused. Beneath a steady stream of water, her eyes betray desire, regret, and fear. Is the desire to be home, to be with her family... to have Ryan back? Is the regret for ever having agreed to check out this seemingly abandoned house? There is no doubt that the fear is of what will happen next.
    A glimmer of cruel hope crosses her eyes as she spots Ryan's car parked in the distance. It's a safe haven, a place where some of the memories that made her who she is dwell. But the distance and grime of the window must have wiped that glimmer away, because her eyes are swelling with terror again.
    “No! Please, help!” She sobs to the open air as her fists pound the glass. She hits harder as footsteps begin to approach, but her hands are no match for the mighty aged glass. It's beginning to crack into a miserable spider web; she might have been able to break through with just a few more minutes. I almost feel sorry for her, but she should not have come to my home.