Jack Miller’s pod crashed through Earth’s atmosphere, a screaming meteor of twisted metal and sparking circuits. The ship’s AI blared warnings in a voice that sounded more terrified than artificial. Jack’s heart jack hammered against his ribs as the ground rushed up to meet him.
With a bone-shattering crunch, the pod slammed into the cracked earth. Steam hissed from ruptured coolant lines, mixing with the acrid stench of burnt ozone. Jack hung upside down, blood rushing to his head, vision blurring.
“Fuck,” he groaned, fumbling with his harness. The buckle finally gave way, and he crashed to the ceiling-turned-floor. Pain lanced through his left wrist. Probably broken.
The airlock wheezed open. Jack stumbled out, gasping as the humid air filled his lungs. He’d been breathing recycled oxygen for nearly a year. This felt like drowning.
The city street stretched before him, empty and overgrown. Weeds burst through cracks in the soil, and vines strangled anything in reach. But it was the silence that unnerved him most. No birds. No insects. Total silence.
“Hello?” he called out. His voice echoed, mocking him. “Anyone?”
Nothing.
Jack’s training kicked in. He needed to find people, figure out what the hell happened while he was gone.
He took a step and nearly collapsed, his legs wobbly as newborn fawn’s. The effects of prolonged artificial gravity had taken their toll, even with the rigorous exercise regimen. His muscles screamed in protest as he forced himself forward, each step a battle against Earth’s pull.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he staggered towards the building. His inner ear, accustomed to the sterile environment of the ship, rebelled against the sudden sensory overload. The world tilted and spun around him.
Movement caught his eye. A figure darted between rusted-out vehicles. Jack’s heart leapt. Another person! He tried to pick up his pace, but his treacherous body refused to cooperate. He stumbled, catching himself on the corroded hull of an abandoned truck.
“Hey!” His voice raspy from disuse. “Wait!”
He rounded a corner and stopped abruptly, nearly collapsing as he tried to catch his breath. The world spun around him, his inner ear still adjusting, the street momentarily warping. When his vision cleared, he froze. A person stood in the open, watching him. But it wasn't just any person. It was... himself. Younger, maybe 16 or 17.
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