by Damian Foyle
nothing else left for him.
"It's time to go," I leaped to my feet. "This way."
I felt the shift coming alive. I tried to remember how it really felt for the first few times I experienced it. With our senses combined, it was a miracle to me now.
A rip through the fabric of space, and there was the hint of not being so random. How else they could always open up to places with some sort of life form?
The air in front of us shimmered, the displacement making a subtle whistle. We waited but nothing came through.
"This is it Brandon," I said and stepped forward.
Death met us on the other side. Nothing lived as far as eye could see. It was rubble, dust and death surrounding us. Standing in the middle of all that made me want to run away.
Brandon looked up at the sky, the familiar stars and the moon, and he sighed.
"Finally at home."
He was blind to the destruction around him.
"I don't think you'll be staying," he said.
"No. There is nothing for me here anymore. I have to find my own home."
I turned around, walking towards the closest shift I could feel coming. It would take hours of travel, but I wanted to be as far as possible from the destruction of this place and what was left of the man who once saved my life.
"Thank you," he said.
I had no reply, nothing human to say.
We ran.
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