15 Oct The Clouds Came Calling

Part I

Nick sat in the cockpit of the small Cessna, his fingers curling around the yoke as the plane vibrated with the steady hum of the engine. It was his seventh lesson with Colton, and despite the growing familiarity with the controls, his pulse quickened every time they took off. Flying had always been a distant dream—an impossible one, he’d once thought—but now, here he was, hurtling down the runway, lifting into the air like it was second nature. The thrill of it was undeniable.

“Feeling good?” Colton’s voice crackled over the headset, cutting through the drone of the engine.

Nick smiled to himself. “Yeah,” he said, letting the excitement seep into his voice. “It’s amazing. Every time we take off, it feels like I’m leaving everything behind.”

Colton chuckled. “That’s the beauty of it. You get above the clouds, and it’s just you and the sky. You’re getting the hang of things, Nick. In three more months, you’ll be ready for that solo flight.”

The mention of the solo flight made Nick’s stomach tighten with a mix of excitement and dread. Three months sounded both thrilling and terrifying. He was doing well, sure, but there was still so much he didn’t know. The technical stuff—managing instruments, dealing with emergencies—at times, if he was being honest, it seemed insurmountable. For now, though, he focused on the sensation of breaking away from the world below.

They leveled out at cruising altitude, and Nick relaxed, his hands loosening on the yoke. He glanced out of the window, marveling at how the sky stretched endlessly in every direction, the ground below nothing but a distant memory. The sight was serene.

But then, something strange caught his eye.

“Hey, Colton,” Nick said, pointing toward the horizon. “What’s that?”

Far ahead, a patch of clouds had taken on an eerie, greenish hue. They didn’t look like ordinary clouds—nothing like the usual whites and grays Nick had grown accustomed to seeing. These swirled and shimmered with a faint green luminescence, almost as though they had a pulse.

Colton leaned forward, peering out of the window. “Huh,” he muttered. “That’s… different.”

Nick followed his instructor’s gaze, his curiosity quickly shifting into a sense of discomfort. The clouds seemed to throb, their glow growing more intense as they churned in slow, irregular patterns. It was subtle at first, but once you noticed it, you couldn’t unsee it.

“You think it’s a storm or something?” Nick asked.

Colton took the controls and adjusted the throttle, his brow furrowed. “It’s probably just some atmospheric anomaly. I’ve seen a few strange things in the sky in my time. Nothing like this—this is new—but don’t worry. We’re at a good altitude, no turbulence readings. If it was dangerous, we’d be picking something up on the instruments. We’ll be fine.”

Nick wasn’t so sure. The clouds were unlike anything he’d ever seen either—thick and dense, pulsating with that sickly green glow. As they flew closer, the clouds expanded, stretching across the sky like some glowing, ethereal mass.

“Are we… we’re flying through them?” he asked, a note of nervousness creeping into his voice.

“I don’t see why not,” Colton replied, though he sounded more uncertain than before. “We’ll be through it in no time.”

The plane pushed onward, and soon the strange clouds engulfed them, swallowing the Cessna in a soft, glowing fog. The entire cockpit was bathed in an eerie green light, illuminating Nick’s hands as he gripped the yoke a little tighter. Outside the windows, there was nothing but swirling mist—no blue sky, no ground, just the strange, shifting mist all around them.

Nick’s skin began to tingle. At first, it was barely noticeable, like static electricity brushing against his arms and neck. But the sensation grew stronger, buzzing across his body in waves. His hair stood on end, and a strange pressure built in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Colton…” Nick began, but his voice trailed off as the tingling intensified. The green light pulsed around them, in sync with the buzzing in his veins. He glanced at his instructor, but Colton’s eyes were fixed on the instruments, his jaw clenched in concentration.

“Yeah,” Colton muttered, not looking up. “I feel it, too.”

For a moment, it seemed like time had slowed to a crawl. Claustrophobia set in as the bizarre clouds continued to envelop the plane. Nick’s anxiety intensified as the tingling sensation continued to build. But then, just as he felt the pressure would never end, a strange sense of calm abruptly washed over Nick, nearly lulling him into a trance.

A moment later, the green clouds began to thin. The glow faded, the buzzing under Nick’s skin lessened, and the familiar blue of the sky returned. The world outside snapped back into place, and the plane emerged from the glowing fog as though nothing had happened. As quickly as the phenomena had begun, it was over.

Nick let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His hands were still gripping the yoke, his knuckles white.

“All good,” Colton said, feigning confidence. “Just some weird weather.”

Nick nodded, but the look on both of their faces said it all, and for several minutes they sat together in stunned silence, processing what they’d experienced.

Nick felt… odd. The tingling had faded considerably, but it hadn’t left him entirely. There remained a faint buzz beneath his skin. He wanted to say something, to ask Colton if he was still feeling the mist’s effects as well, but he kept quiet. Maybe it was just nerves. Maybe it was nothing at all.

Nick swallowed hard and glanced nervously out the side window, expecting to see more of the green mist forming in the distance, but all he saw was the familiar expanse of blue, stretching endlessly in all directions.

* * * * * *

Back on the ground, Nick climbed out of the plane, his body still buzzing with the memory of the flight. As he reached up to grab the side of the door, his head smacked hard against the metal frame with a loud thunk.

“Whoa!” Colton called from the other side of the plane, his head snapping around at the sound. “You okay? That sounded nasty.”

Nick rubbed his head, blinking in confusion. He’d heard the impact and felt the jolt, but there was no pain. No sharp sting, no throbbing ache. Nothing.

“I’m fine,” Nick said, more to himself than to Colton. “Didn’t even feel it.”

Colton frowned, walking around the plane to inspect the spot where Nick had hit his head. “Man, are you sure you’re alright? You hit that hard.”

Nick nodded, laughing nervously. “Yeah, it’s weird. I swear I didn’t feel a thing.”

“Maybe adrenaline,” Colton offered with a shrug, though the concerned look on his face lingered. “Anyway, good job today, especially in consideration of the unusual weather. You’re really coming along.”

They parted ways after that, exchanging the usual pleasantries, but as Nick drove home, he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. He should have felt something. He should have been in pain. But there was nothing. It was strange, unnatural – just like the clouds.

* * * * * *

That night, Nick sat at his kitchen table, absentmindedly running his fingers over a kitchen knife as he replayed the events of the day in his mind. The flight. The strange clouds. The bump on his head. Could something be… wrong with him?

His gaze fell to the knife in his hand, a dangerous idea forming in the back of his mind. He hesitated at first, but then, cautiously, pressed the blade against his fingertip, lightly but enough that it should have broken the skin.

Instead, there was nothing. No pain. No blood. He didn’t feel a thing.

Nick stared at his finger. He pushed the knife harder, trying to force the blade to slice into his flesh. But instead of breaking the skin, the blade began to bend against his fingertip. His skin wouldn’t break.

“What the hell?” he whispered to himself. He tried again, this time pressing the blade against his palm. He pushed with more force than he would ever use under normal circumstances, but his skin remained impenetrable, the knife’s edge warping slightly under the pressure.

His excitement grew as he clutched the knife and boldly pressed it against his arm as hard as he could. Though the wooden handle cracked and the blade itself threatened to crack in two, the knife remained completely unable to pierce him.

For a moment, Nick considered pressing the knife against his throat, just to see what would happen, but the thought had shook him so much he reconsidered. He’d gone far enough for one evening.

He sat back in his chair, incredulous. Even without pushing the envelope, the evidence was right there in front of him—nothing could penetrate his skin.

He was impervious.

Part II

The next morning, Nick woke up to a world of possibilities. eager to further test his newfound capabilities. But first, he dialed Colton’s number, desperate to talk to his instructor about what had happened, but the phone rang and rang with no answer. Nick frowned, hung up without leaving a voicemail, and headed to the kitchen sink for a glass of water.

While taking a sip, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window, and ran his hand along the smooth granite of the countertop. It felt normal. Everything around him felt normal. Except, he didn’t. Learning to fly a plane was thrilling, he conceded, but last night he’d gotten a taste of something truly extraordinary. And he wanted more.

As the daylight streamed through the windows, he also needed answers.

He picked up his phone and dialed Colton’s number again, the familiar chime ringing in his ear. Still no answer.

“Hey, it’s Colton,” the voicemail recording said. “Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

Nick sighed and waited for the beep. “Hey, Colton. It’s Nick. Uh, listen, I really need to talk to you about something weird that happened after our flight yesterday. It’s… important. Call me back when you can. Please.”

He hung up, staring at his phone as if expecting it to suddenly ring back. It didn’t.

Nick began to worry. Why wasn’t Colton picking up? He was always quick to answer before. Maybe something had happened to him after the flight, too. Maybe Colton had felt the same effects. Maybe he was hurt—no, that didn’t make sense. He would be invincible, too. Right?

The uncertainty troubled Nick, and he paced his kitchen, his thoughts running rampant. Before long, he couldn’t stand it anymore, and beelined for the door. He grabbed his keys, threw on his jacket, and headed for his car.

* * * * * *

Colton’s house was about an hour’s drive away, nestled in a quiet suburban neighborhood. As Nick pulled into the driveway, he noticed the blinds were drawn, and the front door was closed. Everything looked ordinary.

He knocked on the door and waited. No answer.

Nick knocked again, louder this time, and pressed his ear to the door. He couldn’t hear anything inside. His hand hovered over the doorbell, but something in his gut told him not to push it. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

He tried the handle, and to his surprise, the door swung open with a soft creak.

“Colton?” Nick called out, stepping inside. His voice reverberated in the empty hallway.

The house was eerily silent. The air felt still, like no one had been inside for days. Nick’s footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as he walked through the hallway, his eyes scanning for any sign of Colton. Every room was dark, and all of the curtains were drawn.

A strange smell hit him as he reached the doorway of the garage—something metallic and raw.

Nick’s stomach turned. He hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open.

The garage was dimly lit by a single window, the pale light filtering through to reveal a grisly scene. Colton was lying on the floor, motionless, his arm mangled and barely attached to his body. Blood pooled around him, glistening in thick, dark puddles that stained the concrete floor.

Nick’s breath caught in his throat, and his legs wobbled beneath him. For a second, he felt like the room was spinning. But as he forced himself to take a step forward, he saw it: a circular saw, its blade soaked in blood and coated in gore, still resting on the nearby workbench.

Colton had tried to test his invincibility, too. But he had failed.

The powers must have worn off… Nick’s mind spun at the realization. The same clouds. The same strange sensation. The same gift—or curse. Both he and his instructor had experienced it. But Colton had pushed too far, and now he was dead.

Nick dropped to his knees, staring at the saw blade. The gruesome scene made it clear that Colton had been bold, recklessly so. He had believed himself invulnerable, just like Nick. But something had changed, just as Nick feared. Colton’s invincibility hadn’t lasted, and when it wore off…

Nick’s hand instinctively moved to his own arm, his fingers pressing hard against his skin. He hadn’t felt the familiar buzzing since that morning. Was it fading already? How long did he have?

His mind raced with the implications. Nick couldn’t stay here any longer. He couldn’t even call the police. How would he explain this? He stumbled backward, heading for the door.

His legs felt weak, but his mind was on fire with one singular, terrifying thought: he was running out of time.

* * * * * *

The drive home was a blur. Nick’s thoughts spiraled as he replayed the events of the last two days in his mind—the flight, the clouds, the blade bending against his skin. He kept glancing at his hands, wondering if the powers were still with him. But deep down, he knew.

They were fading.

Colton’s death had confirmed it: the effects of the clouds weren’t permanent. And if they were fading for Nick, that meant he was vulnerable again. Maybe not right away, but soon.

He couldn’t lose the feeling. He couldn’t go back to being ordinary. After feeling invincible—knowing nothing could harm him—how could he return to normal life?

As he pulled into his driveway, Nick looked up at the sky. The memory of the luminescent clouds flashed through his mind. They were calling to him again, beckoning like a siren. They had come once before, and they could come again. Maybe he could find them. Maybe if he touched them one more time, he could have that power… forever.

* * * * * *

That night, Nick sat in his darkened living room, staring out the window at the horizon. His mind swirled with thoughts of Colton’s death. He hadn’t just lost an instructor—he’d lost a friend. And the knowledge that Colton’s death was tied to something extraordinary only made it worse. Nick had covered it up, and now that secret was his alone to carry.

But the clouds were still out there, waiting. He knew it; he could feel it. And if he could find them again, maybe he could reclaim the power they had discovered. Then, perhaps, Colton’s death wouldn’t be in vain.

That’s when he saw them.

Far in the distance, faint but unmistakable, the same strange, green clouds shimmered against the night sky. His breath caught in his throat. The clouds had returned. This was his chance.

Without hesitation, Nick again grabbed his jacket and car keys. There was no time to waste—the clouds could disappear at any moment.

* * * * * *

Nick sped down the highway toward the hangar, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his hands ached – a sure sign in and of itself that the powers had fully worn off. He was normal again, he realized. And this was no longer acceptable.

The enormity of what he was about to do hit him in waves, but he didn’t care. Colton’s plane was sitting there at the hangar, unused. And Colton, tragically, wouldn’t need it anymore.

Nick knew exactly what this meant—he was stealing the plane, and planning to operate it without clearance. He hadn’t contacted the tower, and if they noticed, they would assume it was Colton flying. Taking off without permission could land him in serious trouble, and worse, if anything went wrong, there would be no way to call for help.

The consequences churned in his mind, but he pushed the thoughts aside. Nothing was going to stop him now, not with the otherworldly clouds expanding overhead, tempting him with their offer of immortality.

* * * * * *

When Nick arrived at the hangar, the plane sat exactly where they had left it. He yanked open the door, climbed into the cockpit, and sat in the pilot’s seat. His hands trembled with anticipation as he turned the key, and the engine roared to life beneath him.

He glanced at the comm device on the dashboard, knowing he should check in with the tower. They would be expecting Colton’s voice on the other end of the line, however. He couldn’t risk it. They would never let him take off, and they would ask too many questions.

No, Nick thought. I’m on my own. 

As if on cue at the height of his trepidation, the radio buzzed, and a voice crackled through the speaker. “Cessna Six-One-Five, this is Tower Control. You are not cleared for takeoff. Do you copy?”

Nick’s heart pounded. Without thinking, he hurriedly reached for the comm device and yanked the plug free, silencing the radio.

The guilt threatened to creep back in, but he shoved it back down. There was no time for hesitation now. He pushed the throttle forward, and the plane began to roll down the runway, faster and faster, until the wheels lifted off the ground.

The moment the plane left the earth, Nick breathed a sigh of relief. The hard part was over. A moment later, the plane leveled out, and the horizon stretched wide before him. In the distance, the object of his desires, the green clouds, shimmered brightly against the sky.

There was no turning back now.

Part III

Nick soared through the sky, the hum of the Cessna’s engine steady beneath him as the glowing green clouds loomed larger on the horizon. His heart thundered with a mixture of excitement and fear. He wasn’t supposed to be up here—he knew that. But the thrill of flying toward those clouds again drowned out the voice in his head that warned of consequences.

Below him, the landscape shrank, the buildings and roads reduced to specks against the ground. With every passing second, the emerald mist grew closer, shining with the same eerie pulse that had haunted his thoughts ever since the first encounter with Colton.

Nick’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the yoke. Apprehension threatened to derail his confidence, but he couldn’t let it. He wouldn’t. Not with so much at stake. The powers would return—he knew they would. And this time, he would find a way to hold onto them longer. He had to.

The buzz of static came through the disabled radio, a faint, persistent hum that grated against his nerves. He knew the tower would continue trying to contact the plane, and that they were likely wondering why Colton wasn’t answering. Nick fought the urge to turn the plane around and land. In his mind, he’d already reached the point of no return. The clouds were calling, and he’d gone too far to stop.

As he neared the glowing mass, the air inside the cockpit again seemed to shift. The static-like energy that had teased the edges of his senses during the previous flight began to build again, rippling across his skin and making the hair on his arms stand on end.

Nick took a steadying breath, and braced himself. Almost there…

* * * * * *

When the plane entered the heart of the clouds, the world outside once again vanished, every surface inside the cockpit instantly bathed in the alien hue.

The tingling sensation exploded across Nick’s body, more powerful than before, racing through his veins in relentless waves. His whole body buzzed with electricity, his skin humming with energy. It was stronger, sharper—intoxicating.

He grinned and pressed his knuckles against the dashboard as hard as he could. No pain. His joints didn’t strain, his skin didn’t bruise. The familiar rush of invincibility flooded him once more.

Without hesitation, Nick grabbed the pen from the dashboard and jabbed it into his forearm. The pen snapped in two, plastic fragments scattering across the cockpit. His arm remained unharmed, the skin impenetrable.

“Yes,” Nick whispered, the word barely audible over the sound of the engine. His heart pounded with exhilaration. He was invincible again.

He clenched his fist and slammed it into the window, testing the limits of his strength. The glass shuddered but didn’t crack, and his hand felt nothing—not a single twinge of discomfort.

Nick couldn’t contain himself, and began laughing. He felt alive.

No, he thought, reconsidering. Not just alive. 

Superhuman.

* * * * * *

The euphoria, however, was short-lived. A sudden alarm blared from the dashboard, yanking Nick back to reality. His stomach dropped as he glanced at the fuel gauge.

The needle was buried deep in the red.

Nick cursed himself for his stupidity, gripping the yoke tighter. His lack of experience was showing; he had forgotten to check the fuel supply before takeoff. Worse yet, he didn’t have enough to make it back to the airfield, let alone anywhere safe.

The sensible part of his mind told him to look for a clearing, somewhere to land the plane without killing himself. But the exhilaration, the invincibility still surging through him, whispered otherwise.

What does it matter? he thought wildly. I’ll survive the crash. Nothing can hurt me. I’m impervious. 

His mind reeling with the possibilities, Nick adjusted his course toward a wooded hillside visible through the glowing mist. If he was going to crash, he would do it with flair—tearing through the trees like a bullet and emerging from the wreckage without a scratch.

His heart raced as the hillside loomed closer. The clouds seemed to pulse with approval, their ghoulish glow intensifying as if encouraging him to make the leap.

Nick grinned, overflowing with adrenaline as he hurtled toward the woods, giving up his last opportunity to change course.

He instinctually squeezed his eyes shut as hillside rose up before him, and prepared for impact.

* * * * * *

The plane plunged into the forest, the collision violent and deafening. Trees snapped and splintered under the force, metal groaned and tore, and the cockpit shattered in an eruption of glass and debris. Nick gripped the controls with both hands as the world spun wildly around him.

Then, everything went still.

For a moment, Nick didn’t move. He lay in the twisted wreckage of the cockpit, his ears ringing from the crash, but his body… his body felt perfect.

He flexed his fingers, then checked his arms and legs. No pain. No cuts. No bruises. Nothing. He was unharmed, just as he’d expected.

Nick let out a shaky laugh. He had done it. He had survived the crash. He looked around him, and chuckled. The plane, not so much.

He pushed the crumpled remains of the cockpit door open and triumphantly crawled out of the debris. Portions of the plane lay scattered around him in twisted heaps of metal, wood, and shattered glass. The grim scene stood in stark contrast to his own appearance – he didn’t have so much as a scratch.

Nick stood on shaky legs, brushing dirt from his scorched, shredded clothing, exhilaration still surging through him. He wasn’t a survivor. He was indestructible.

But as he took a step forward, a sharp creaking sound stopped him in his tracks.

He turned to see one of the massive oak trees the plane had slammed into, its roots exposed and barely holding on.

Before Nick could react, the tree shifted and groaned under its own weight, tilting ominously in his direction.

His mind screamed at him to move, but it was too late. The tree was already falling.

The oak crashed down in a thunderous explosion of branches and splintering timber, and with a sickening crunch, pinned Nick’s left leg beneath it. He hit the ground hard, gasping as the weight of the massive tree settled into place.

For a moment, he felt nothing. The invincibility still clung to him, shielding him from the worst of the impact. He knew he couldn’t be pierced, but thankfully he couldn’t be crushed either. But under his thin veneer of arrogance, Nick knew the truth. It wouldn’t last forever. The powers were temporary, as before, and perhaps owing to the seriousness of his would-be injuries, he could already tell they were fading.

As the weight of the oak pressed his leg further into the forest floor, Nick found himself gripped by a new sensation. It wasn’t pain. No, it was worse. It was terror.

Just as quickly as he had become aware of the full extent of his capabilities following the crash, the magnitude of his newfound predicament became clear.

If I don’t get out from under this tree soon, Nick thought, I’m going to die here. 

He imagined himself succumbing to starvation, dehydration—or worse, being found by scavengers before help arrived.

Frantic, he twisted beneath the oak, straining with all his might to free himself. But the trunk wouldn’t budge. It was hopeless. Inwardly, Nick cursed the clouds for not granting him super strength as well.

The trunk must have weighed over a thousand pounds, he imagined, and it didn’t care how special he thought he was. The oak, for better or worse, had chosen its final resting place. And if Nick couldn’t find a way to extricate himself, it would soon be his as well.

Nick lay still for a few minutes, glaring at the glowing clouds above him and considering his options. Then, with a sudden burst of remembrance, Nick recalled the switchblade in his shirt pocket. Relief flooded through him, and then… revulsion, shock, and disappointment, all rolled into one, as he realized exactly what he was going to do.

He decided to cut himself free.

It was the only way.

With shaking hands, he fumbled for the blade, struggling to pull it free. The cool steel in his grip gave him a fleeting sense of control. He flicked it open and pressed it against his flesh. At first, the blade bent slightly, but over time, as he repeated his attempts and his powers slowly waned, it began to give way, breaking the skin. Barely at first, but at least it was something. Progress.

After more than half an hour’s worth of attempts, Nick’s efforts finally paid off, and the blade finally pierced him. A tiny drop of blood welled up, the first indication that escape was possible.

Nick exhaled, his heart racing. He had never been so thrilled to see his own blood in his life.

He didn’t hesitate. He knew he had a long, gruesome way to go. With grim determination, he began to saw through his thigh in earnest. The first few cuts were shallow, and the blood trickled slowly at first. But as he worked, the flow began to increase, warm and slick against his hands.

There was still no pain—only the distant sensation of pressure. He sliced deeper, cutting through muscle and sinew, and finally, bone. The work was slow, methodical, taking nearly half an hour to complete.

When the last thread of muscle gave way with a grotesque squelch, Nick pulled himself free from the tree’s crushing weight.

He collapsed onto the forest floor, gasping for breath. Blood oozed steadily from the stump of his leg, faster now, as the final remnants of his supernatural abilities slipped away.

Nick fumbled with his belt, wrapping it around his thigh in an effort to buy himself more time, using it as a makeshift tourniquet. But his hands were too slick with blood, and the belt slipped loose no matter how hard he tried.

His vision blurred. His strength ebbed with every heartbeat, and with each drop of blood lost.

Nick lay back for only a moment, panting, trying to regain some of his strength. High above him, the sky swirled with the eerie green clouds. They pulsed gently, as if taunting him. But he knew he didn’t have time to brood. The blood loss was growing worse with every second.

I have to move, Nick thought frantically. I have to get to the road.

He rolled onto his side, gasping as he forced himself upright and then to his feet, balancing awkwardly on his remaining leg. The stump throbbed faintly—no sharp pain yet, but it wouldn’t be long before it hit in full force. He pressed his hand against the wound, trying to stanch the bleeding, but it was no use.

Nick gritted his teeth and began to hop toward the treeline. Every landing jarred his body, and his head swam with dizziness. The world tilted beneath him, but he kept moving.

The road isn’t far, he told himself. I just need to get to the road. Someone will find me. 

The pulse of adrenaline carried him for a few yards, but with each hop, his vision failed more dramatically. The blood poured faster now, soaking through his tattered pants, pooling on the ground beneath him. His heart struggled to keep up, sending weak, fluttering beats through his chest.

Seconds later, his leg gave out, and he hit the ground hard, a groan tearing from his throat. For a moment, he lay there, the forest spinning around him. Above it all, the green clouds flickered through the gaps in the forest canopy, reminding him that time was running out.

He clawed at the dirt, dragging himself forward with trembling arms, determined to make it to safety. All the while, the stump of his leg throbbed harder, his breathing growing increasingly labored.

The pain returned slowly, creeping in like a dull ache spreading outward from the wound. With every movement, it sharpened. Still, he refused to quit, his hands leaving streaks of blood on the cold, rough forest floor as he crawled, inching ever closer to survival.

He could see it now—the road, just beyond the tree line. His pulse quickened, but it was weak, fluttering. Nick knew he didn’t have much time. He tried to crawl faster, clawing at roots and stones, desperate to reach the edge of the forest.

It was then the pain roared back in full force, tearing through his leg and into his core so suddenly and with such severity that it took Nick’s breath away. His arms trembled with fatigue, and every inhalation felt like it might be his last. The stump was a fountain now, the blood flowing freely with nothing left to hold it back.

“Just a little farther,” Nick rasped. He was so close. He just had to keep moving.

Unfortunately, his strength was fading fast. His vision darkened at the edges, and his arms refused to pull him any farther. The road blurred before him, just out of reach.

Nick collapsed onto the dirt, gasping, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. He could hear something—distant voices, the rumble of engines approaching. In spite of everything, he managed a meager smile.

Help is coming, he thought. I made it…

But as he tried to lift his head, the world slipped farther from his grasp. His limbs were impossibly heavy, numb, and the pain in his leg gave way to a cold emptiness spreading through his entire body.

He lay still, his eyes drifting upward to the sky. The green clouds hovered overhead, as if watching him struggle. They seemed to glow brighter for just a moment, as if in response to his suffering.

Nick’s head slumped to the ground as the last of his strength left him. The last things he saw, just before everything went dark, were the distant shapes of first responders rushing toward him—too late to save him.

When the paramedics finally arrived, they found Nick lying hundreds of feet from the wreckage, and his severed leg pinned beneath the nearby oak, a bloodied switchblade beside it.

Incredibly, they noticed Nick had no other visible injuries, no signs of trauma from the crash. It was obvious that he had bled out from a self-inflicted wound, surrounded by the ruins of a plane crash he never should have survived. It was clear something odd had happened, but no one would ever know exactly what.

Nick wasn’t talking, and he never would.

High above them all, beyond the chaos and confusion on the ground, the wind picked up, scattering what remained of the strange green clouds, until at last they disappeared entirely, never to be seen again.