Wild - Noah Jordan vs. The Aliens: A Post-Apocalyptic Mens Adventure

T wo thoughts raced through my mind as I saw the big disc emerge from angry clouds. It hovered over the towering skyscrapers, casting a shadow over downtown. The alien ship was the biggest thing I had ever seen. Its exterior hull was dark gray, almost black. A bazillion small lights flickered on its surface in an array of colors. Intricate panels adorned the surface. Vertical thrusters glowed blue, rippling the air below with distortion as the craft hovered in the sky like a blanket of doom.

We were so totally fucked.

That was my first thought.

My second thought lasted a millisecond. For a fleeting moment, I thought they had good intentions. Hoped. But that was just wishful thinking. The optimist in me wanted to believe that they were here to bring us new technology, breakthroughs in medicine, a cure for cancer, an end to world hunger, and cheaper smart phones.

But a superior species doesnt travel millions of light years and hover atop major metropolitan areas in a threatening manner just to say hello. The ships hadnt shown up on radar or any early detection systems. There were no transmissions announcing their impending visit. This was the first contact. And it didnt bode well.

Weve all seen the movies. We know what happens next. It was only a matter of time before they used some type of advanced weaponry to turn the architectural mountains of steel and glass into rubble.

I swallowed hard, and my chest was tight. My heart thudded like a jackhammer, and my skin grew slick with sweat. Nervous energy vibrated by body. I didnt know what was going to happen next, but I had an active imagination. And I couldnt imagine anything good. I needed to take slow deep breaths, otherwise the situation was going to spiral into a full-blown panic attack.

The aliens were here for a few possible reasons. To destroy us because they thought we posed some kind of threat to them or the galaxy. To take our resources. To eat us. To enslave us. Or maybe they just needed target practice? I had no doubt that our military would mount an admirable defense. But at the end of the day, this was a battle we couldnt win.

I had to accept the fact that life was going to get really crappy from here on. Hell, just a few hours ago my biggest problem was a world history exam I was studying for. Oliver and I had been quizzing each other in the cafeteria. We had no idea what was in store for us.

Which Roman Emperor built a massive wall across Northern Britain in 122 A.D.? Oliver asked.

The question flew past me at the time. My gaze was fixed across the cafeteria on the object of my desireSkylar Brock. Her raven hair and crystal blue eyes were sheer perfection. She had sculpted cheekbones and plump pouty lips and a perfect nose. Her pearly teeth sparkled when she smiled, like a toothpaste commercial. The school had a dress code, but she always found creative ways to reveal as much of her petite frame as possible. Her skirt was hiked well past the knee, exposing her sumptuous legs.

I found it hard to concentrate around her. Speaking became difficult. She could set my stomach aflutter and my heartbeat into overdrive. She was the kind of girl that could give a man hope. Proof of the existence of a divine power.

Dude! Pay attention, Oliver said over the chatter of the cafeteria.

Silverware clinked against green plastic trays. The occasional tater-tot flew through the air. Soft light filtered in from large windows that lined the north side. It was the usual chaos that ensued during lunch. Students crammed less than tasty morsels into their mouthes, socialized, and studied. The social hierarchy was easily discernible. The cool crowd was clustered in a row of tables on one side, while the outcasts were scattered on the opposite end of the lunch hall.

Who built the wall?

Trump? I said, still distracted.

Oliver sighed, exasperated. No.

I tried to refocus my mind, but I couldnt take my eyes off of Skyler.

Why do you torture yourself like this? Oliver said.

He was my best friend. He had dark hair, a round face, thick black glasses, and could always make me laugh. It was almost a problem. I had spent countless days in detention because I cracked up about something he had whispered, or drawn, in class. Hed been doing it since grade school. This was our senior year, and I had been hoping to make it through without any suspensions. But Oliver and I always found a way to get into trouble.

We werent bad kids, just a little mischievous. Inappropriate doodles in class. The occasional practical joke. Nothing that would even have raised an eyebrow when my dad went to school. Now, it seemed like they wanted to send you out for psychiatric counseling at the slightest infraction. In seventh grade I drew a picture of a battlefield with two armies firing bullets at each other across the page and airplanes dropping bombs. I got suspended for three days, and the school counselor actually suggested that I was displaying personality traits of a psychopath.

There is no way Skyler is ever going to get with you.

Never say never, I replied.

Youre delusional.

Oliver looked over his shoulder at Skylers table. She was sitting next to her best friend, Hannah Mathews. She was equally gorgeous and had golden blonde hair that tickled her shoulders. Her tan skin, green eyes, and luscious curves made every swimsuit she ever wore look amazing. She was voted most likely to grace the pages of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. Every guy had a crush on her. She was the most popular girl in school, and the other girls practically bowed before her. But she had a dark side. She could go from zero to full bitch in 0.5 seconds. And if you got on her bad side, you became a social outcast. In four years of high school, I dont think shed ever acknowledged me once, until recently. Now that we were living together, I was definitely on her shit list.

I think she was embarrassed by the fact, and it wasnt something she wanted to become common knowledge.