50 Chapter 50

"Wonderful to meet you!" Sheridan shed his intimidating presence, his expression relaxed.

"You— You're from Earth too? Like me?" Pointing at the General, PQ gasped. But he quickly clasped his hand over his mouth, fearful that this shocking information might have fallen into the ears of others.

"Vinyl coated polyester. Your voice won't come remotely close to penetrating this." Sheridan said, knocking against the wall.

The attractive wristwatch on Sheridan ticked in the silent room. Clamor outside bounced off the walls of the military grade tent, unable to breach through the insulated fabric.

Clicking Sheridan's pen, Mary hummed. "You're being a little paranoid, PQ. Even if someone heard us, no one else would understand a word… unless, they're from Earth too. And in that case, we should might as well invite them in and get to the bottom of why we were reincarnated."

"Be polite, he's much older than you." Snapping at Mary, Sheridan turned to PQ. "Tough personality, right? I hope she didn't bother you too much during the trip here, she can be a huge headache sometimes."

PQ slackened his stiff shoulders. "She's a real character. Bossy in a childish way but surprisingly reliable."

The rotating office chair creaked as Mary hopped off, pouting her lips. "Hey, I'm physically a kid but mentally an adult!"

"Partially, an adult. More like a bratty teen." Sheridan rebutted. "It gets confusing when two varying personalities and memories clash and intertwine. There are the locked memories hidden deep in our head and knowledge of the apocalypse …"

"Well, about that…" PQ shook his head, rubbing his temple. "That's… That's where I differ from you two."

"What do you mean?"

"He is… different from us. PQ here has never lived to see the collapse of Earth." Mary answered for him.

Sheridan's sharp eyes lit up. He immediately leaned closer to scrutinize PQ, muttering. "Just when I thought things couldn't get more complicated, the dead on Earth has come back to life? On Terra?"

PQ made an awkward grin, distancing himself from the General who looked more than willing to dissect him. "Being alive is pure luck, I guess. Maybe some higher being rolled a die and generated me back to life?"

"I suppose so," Sheridan grunted, still examining PQ. "What's up with the streaks of white? Going for a Tokyo Ghoul style?"

"Sheridan, you made another putrid anime reference! You promised to dial that garbage down!" Rolling her eyes, Mary complained.

"Ah! I totally forgot! But it's not my fault for being this way, it's the memories carrying over! My past life me is messing with my mind!"

As Mary and Sheridan quarreled, PQ pulled out his phone to use as a mirror. He has kept his phone by his side since the very beginning, hoping it would one day receive a call or message from his mother… father… or brother…

"General Sheridan, I have completed the casualty report! Permission to enter?! " A subdued voice called out from outside, seeping in through the narrow gaps between the overlapping curtains of the tent.

Shoving Mary an arm's reach away, Sheridan responded to the messenger. "Permission granted! Come in!"

The curtains lifted slowly and a woman in her mid-thirties, around the same age as Sheridan, walked in. Passing Sheridan a set of files and sheets of paper, she promptly exited the tent without uttering a word, seemingly in a rush.

"More paperwork? The higher-ups sure are throwing all the mess at you! If I were you, I would run up to those bastard and smack em in the head!"

"It's an unprecedented occasion, Mary. I was next in command before General Lane turned, so now the heavy duty falls in my hands. I won't be able to compete with the other's authority if I don't deliberately demonstrate my worth," Sheridan murmured as he flipped through the pages, a troubled frown forming on his face. "The rescue mission is reckless, but it should have minimized causalities."

Rescue mission? PQ picked up on those words. So General Sheridan was the one who directed the mission?

"Category Two zombies attacked the fleet. That's what caused our mission to fail." Mary spoke. "I thought our apocalypse intuitions would have made a huge difference, yet the unexpected still occurred. Bummer…" She flailed her arms, taking a sheet of paper from Sheridan's arms. "Hopefully the professor we rescued would redeem ourselves. We were in desperate need of brilliant scientists—"

"What for?" Perplexed, PQ interjected. "Zombies roam the streets and you guys prioritized a researcher? Do you know how many lives were lost because of this?"

"It seems there's a misunderstanding, almost forgot your prior circumstance. Let me explain."

Sheridan sorted to papers into a neat stack before placing them on his office table. Pointing towards the ceiling of the tent, he uttered. "The obelisk, also known as, a centerpiece, is our target of research."

"The tower formed after the beam of light?"

"Correct. To many folks, the obelisk is like a relic, something magical and unexplainable." Sheridan paused, pointing at PQ's smartphone. "What if I told you that they are the essence of technology. And that we, humans, are able to extract, adapt and integrate it to our current technology."

PQ flinched. "Alien technology?"

"I cannot confirm, but it is a huge possibility. If our scientists can successfully study and replicate their advanced technology, it will be a monumental breakthrough for humanity." Sheridan whispered.

PQ dropped his head, deep in his own thoughts.

Suddenly, the entrance curtains flung open and Teresa barged in. "But you still haven't addressed the loss of lives!"

"Who are you?!" Sheridan roared at the sight of an intruder.

However, Teresa ignored him and she continued to convey her stance. "Wanting a better future for humanity is a noble cause, but I believe there's another more dire problem at hand!"

"Dire problem?." Still tensed and on high alert, Sheridan questioned. "Elaborate."

Teresa furrowed her brow and answered. "We suspect human interference."

"By the way," Waving his arms, PQ tried to catch the attention of everyone present. He pointed at Teresa. "Sheridan, this is Teresa, she's a friend." He then gestured at Sheridan. "Teresa, this is Sheridan, he's the General."

After a brief handshake to acknowledge one another, Teresa continued without any hesitation. "It was a coordinated attack! We experienced it first hand."

Sheridan frowned. "You deduced human interference… from what evidence?"

At this point, Mary had blatantly invited the others in to hear the conversation, but Sheridan was too engrossed by Teresa's hypothesis to even notice.

"Instincts, and logic," Teresa answered. "The route we took was perfectly intercepted as if the saboteur had a detailed copy of the mapping."

"She's telling the truth, sir. The catalog recorded that Category Two zombies attacked on sight, yet the ones who assaulted the convoy waited patiently for a chance to strike!" Kansan stepped up, voicing his opinion. His infantry uniform indicated his affiliation to the military, reassuring Sheridan of Teresa's credibility.

"For the mission to be compromised…" Sheridan scanned the room, glanced at Mary's solemn expression, and let out a long sigh. "Only a handful of people possess information on the rescue mission, me included. It's still tough to believe, but I will look into the matter."

Sheridan returned to his seat, clicking his pen in vexation. "Perhaps all of you can provide some assistance. This issue is extremely jarring, so I'll need all the help I can get. Are you up for the challenge?"

'Collaboration? With a General?' PQ squealed inwardly, barely able to contain his excitement. With his phone clutched in his hands, PQ caught his reflection on the dead, blank screen.

For the first time since he left home, he saw his appearance.

Strands of grayish white dappled his brown hair befittingly as if he had intentionally dyed them. His jawline where fat used to linger was more chiseled and defined.

Despite the strong resemblance of his old self, there was a subtle difference.

For his whole life, he always knew he was ordinary. Passable looks, decent grades, and an above average height yet weighed down drastically by his un-athletic genetics. He was fine with it, nothing worth fussing over. But subconsciously, he had lost identity of himself.

Yes, he enjoyed whatever good life offered, some funny jokes online, intriguing knowledge about space, his next meal… but it all started to fade.

He started to care less.

He cared less about socializing. He cared less about going out, playing the sport he once loved, his supportive friends, his loving family… He lost sight of the path ahead, and he stopped looking forward.

But no matter what others had told him before the apocalypse, he could now throw them all behind his back.

He is no longer the average boy whom you'd immediately forget right after crossing paths.

He is special.

He is now qualified to pave his own future.