THE SHADOWVERSE

Contact

The future had arrived. Today, they would make contact. Over the last five nights, only Kevin had managed a restful sleep, as the others' minds were so preoccupied with their current situation that rest evaded them. The mental game was excruciating. At the end of the five days, the time had finally come. The future was at hand. It coursed through their very veins.

But they could not leave without saying their goodbyes, even if it would be furtively. Dustin and Sam, though usually light-hearted, were heavily affected by the idea of taking an interstellar wormhole across thousands of light years of space without a single word to their loved ones.

Therefore, they both showed up at their parents' doorstep the day of the departure. "Hey Mom," Sam greeted, walking straight in. The home of Robert and Jenny Jones, like the Sparks' abode, was simple and spacious.

The duo tried with every ounce of their acting skills to remain unsuspicious. To keep the act going, Dustin offered to stay for a meal.

"That sounds wonderful!" their mom exclaimed. "I have a pot roast."

Dustin licked his lips. Dammit, last pot roast for a while. "Yum," he said.

Until dinner, which would be served in a half-hour, the brothers ascended the stairs into their childhood rooms. The white walls and blue ceiling welcomed Sam, the memories of the past whispering into his ear.

This room had experienced so much—the endless crying when his grandparents died, a certain infamous breakup, and just plain hormonal imbalances. Thankfully, those times were over now.

He ambled to his bed, running his hand over its sheets, lost in thought. He had not noticed his mom standing in the doorway until it was too late. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Turning swiftly, he gulped and clenched his teeth. She looked very suspicious. "Nothing," he briefly stated. "I'm, uh, just reminiscing. I've not been sleeping so well lately."

She scrutinized his expression closely. He awkwardly smiled. "You're right," she said, taking two steps towards him. There was not a trace of distrust in her eyes, or her voice. But she had fooled him before, many times, when in situations akin to this. "If these walls could talk, they would say a lot."

Sam huffed and hugged her tightly, much to her surprise, since Sam typically disliked hugs. "Oh, this is new," she acknowledged.

"I just felt like it this time," he answered. He pulled away. "Where's Dustin?"

"In his room. The pot roast is ready."

"I'll be there soon." With that, she left and went down the stairs to lay the table. Sam found Dustin doing the same thing he had done. The man, the myth, the legend himself, Dustin Jones, brushed a shaking finger over his wooden dresser—home to a variety of die-cast cars. He jumped up on Sam's entrance. "Oh, just you. 'Sup."

"Hey," Sam greeted.

"I grew up in here," Dustin said. "It's funny. I have this comedic side—we both do—but this place always brings back when we were kids."

"Yeah, I feel you."

"And now that we're leaving, what might happen?" Dustin wondered aloud.

Sam put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I don't even know, bro. But, Johnny's right. This is a path nobody's taken. We're pioneers. I can actually look forward to the future. Know what I mean?"

Dustin nodded. "Yeah, Johnny's right on a lot of things. Honestly, that dude lives in the future."

Sam laughed just thinking about him. "Timmo was right. He gives off that old man vibe at like . . . what? 21?"