BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The blasts rolled through the air, and the floor beneath him shook. The sound was different now, louder and sharper. Earlier, when the missiles hit in outer space, there had been only silent flashes on the TV. Now the impacts were in the atmosphere, and the noise reached all the way to the city.
He moved closer to the glass. From here he could only see thin streaks fading high above, like lines scratched into the sky.
On the TV, the satellite feed showed bright specks winking on and off as fragments broke apart again. The image jumped between coordinates and close-up shots. Bright flashes. Then static.
Sirens wailed non-stop across the city. Down on the street, people moved in every direction. Some ran, others stood frozen, staring upward. A few clung to each other, faces lifted to the sky, as if waiting for something to stop what was coming.
Thomas stayed by the glass, watching them all, watching the sky.
The anchor's voice suddenly cut through the room, sharper than before.
"This… this just in."
There was a tremor in her tone, as if she had to push the words out.
"Eagle Nation has launched a nuclear missile. It is heading directly toward the center of the meteor cluster."
She pressed a hand to her earpiece, listening, eyes wide.
"I repeat, a nuclear missile has been launched by Eagle Nation. Officials are calling it the last resort, our final chance to stop the remaining meteors before impact."
On the satellite feed, countless fragments drifted through the sky. The largest were no bigger than a bus, but even one could destroy a city. This was the result of the second wave of missile strikes, which included launches from their country, Gaur. Their descent, already slowed from earlier, looked unnatural, steady and deliberate, almost as if the pieces were being guided rather than falling.
Thomas kept his eyes on the TV.
KABOOM!
The feed went white. The explosion bloomed in the center of the cluster, a blinding flash followed by a dense cloud of smoke spreading outward in all directions.
A deep shockwave rolled through the city. Windows facing the direction of the blast shattered, their glass scattering onto the streets below. Car alarms screamed in unison. Street signs and light posts rattled violently, some bending under the force. Even stoplights swayed on their wires.
Thomas's building shuddered under the impact, a low, grinding rumble passing through the floor beneath his feet. He gripped the window frame. Luckily, the tower was shielded by other high-rises, sparing it from the worst of the blast. Only the heavy tremors reached him here.
The thick smoke hung in the air like a curtain. Slowly, its white color shifted, taking on a strange pink hue.
Thomas stepped closer to the glass. The meteors, still wrapped in that pink haze, continued to descend.
Then, about twenty kilometers above the ground, they stopped.
Right there, mid-air.
Confused murmurs rippled through the streets below. From where Thomas stood, he could still make them out against the daylight sky, suspended and unmoving.
It did not matter where you looked on the live feed. Every country, every city, had its own share of meteor fragments hovering above it.
"What is happening?" Thomas muttered, eyes still on the sky.
Then suddenly, the meteors dropped at incredible speed, easily twice or three times faster than the speed of sound.
They came in all sizes, some as large as a bus, others the size of cars, and plenty no bigger than basketballs. Every single one was wrapped in that strange pink smoke, leaving streaking trails behind them as they cut through the air. Wherever they landed, the result was instant destruction.
BLAGGGG!
Thomas's building jolted hard. He stumbled, catching himself on the desk. The shock ran through the floor and up the walls. Somewhere above, glass shattered, followed by the crunch of twisting steel. The top floors had been hit.
"We've just received confirmation. Meteors are now falling from the sky,"
The anchor's voice broke through the chaos on the TV.
"The largest one was struck by a missile and shattered into several fragments. Some of those fragments were also targeted and hit, causing even more pieces. Many of these fragments are now falling toward populated areas."
The feed flickered, freezing for a moment before the picture snapped back. The camera shook as a deep rumble carried through the broadcast.
"Authorities are urging everyone to seek immediate shelter," the anchor continued. "If you're outside, get indoors immediately. This is not a drill."
The building shook again, harder this time. Thomas ducked under his desk, clutching one of the legs. It was pure instinct, the same drill they had practiced for earthquakes.
BOOM!
Another impact rattled the structure. Ceiling tiles shifted. The floor trembled.
"Wait… this isn't an earthquake," Thomas muttered to himself. "Our building's getting hit by meteors. I should get out of here."
He scrambled out from under the desk and made for the emergency exit stairs.
Their office building had 20 floors. Thomas was on the 14th, but instead of going down, he turned toward the 15th. The cafeteria was there.
"Are they still here?" he muttered as he pushed the door open.
The sight froze him in place. The cafeteria looked half collapsed, ceiling panels hanging by wires, tables overturned. Dust still hung in the air. The blast must have hit here directly.
Bodies lay motionless on the floor, and among them he spotted the assistant chef pinned under a section of ceiling in the counter area.
He took a step forward, ready to pull away the debris. The floor under him jolted hard, throwing him off balance.
A deafening bang erupted from somewhere inside. Thomas flinched, covering his head as a second shockwave tore through the room. Flames burst from the kitchen area, swallowing chairs and counters in seconds. The smell of gas hit him instantly. The hose must have been torn open by the earlier debris.
"This isn't good!"
He staggered backward and shoved the door closed, pressing hard until the latch clicked. Heat was already radiating through the metal frame.
"I need to get out of the building now!"
He turned toward the fire exit, joining the stream of people rushing downward. The stairwell echoed with the pounding of feet and urgent voices.
A few minutes later, he was nearly at the ground floor when he spotted someone coming up against the flow.
"Hey, security, where are you going?" Thomas asked.
The man in the uniform didn't slow down. "Going up to save people. Just get outside. My team is trying to get help." He kept moving without looking back.
Thomas didn't have time to say more. He pushed through the last few flights and finally stepped outside.
Only then did he see the full damage. The top three floors of the building were destroyed, and the next two below them were crushed inward, holding a massive meteor wedged deep into the structure.
The cafeteria's windows on the 15th floor were blown out, black smoke and occasional bursts of flame spilling into the open air. From this angle, the destruction inside was clear. The fire had spread far past the counter area, and the entire floor looked moments away from collapsing.
Then he saw him. Bryan. His longtime friend was at one of the 15th-floor windows, leaning out and shouting for help. Thick black smoke poured from behind him, and each breath he took came with a violent cough.
"Why can't I get through?!" Thomas muttered, trying 911 again and again, but the line stayed busy. His eyes scanned the street, hoping to see a firetruck push through the chaos, but there was nothing.
Another minute passed. Thomas's heart pounded as he searched for any sign of help. Then movement caught his eye. Inside the cafeteria, through the haze, he saw someone reach Bryan, the same security guard he had passed in the stairwell earlier.
"I'll wait for you here!" Thomas called up, his voice straining to be heard. Bryan managed a weak thumbs up.
BOOM!
The blast ripped through the floor, the windows shattering outward in a burst of fire and smoke. The force rattled Thomas's chest.
Before he could even process it, a deep groan rolled through the building's frame. The 15th floor buckled under the combined weight of the five ruined floors above. Concrete and steel collapsed inward, swallowing everything.
"Bryan!!" Thomas's voice cracked. The only answer was the roar of flames and falling debris.
He shook his head, stumbling backward until his foot caught on a chunk of rubble. He went down hard, landing on his back. But he didn't move to get up.
"No… no, no, Bryan!" His voice was barely more than a sob now. He sat there, head in his hands, the sound of the city fading into the pounding of his own heartbeat.
A new siren cut through the air, sharper than the city's alarms. A firetruck was racing down the street toward him. Thomas's chest lifted with a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could still save Bryan.
It was almost there when a small meteor slammed into the road ahead. The blast tossed the firetruck into the air like it weighed nothing.
Thomas barely had time to look up.
BLAGG!
The firetruck came crashing down on him.
.
.
.
Thomas died.