The Countdown

A deafening cheer erupts from the crowd outside Danny’s hotel window in New York City’s Time Square. The sky darkens as a giant, electric-blue ball begins to descend, a harbinger of the New Year’s arrival. Danny’s heart races, his nausea amplified by the rising tide of voices counting down in perfect sync. “Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven-”

Less than a minute left now. What will it be? His humanity, or soul?

Three strange beings wait patiently in the room with him. They aren’t human. They don’t look like the aliens he’s seen in movies - except for maybe Star Trek. Their smooth, mudlike skin is hairless, their oval faces a mix between a horned Klingon and a whiskered catfish. But it’s their black eyes that cause him the most discomfort. Looking into them feels like peering into an endless, empty void.

Outside, the crowd continues to chant, “Fifty-one, fifty, forty-nine-”

Hot panic boils up in Danny’s chest, threatening to spill over into his mouth. “Please,” he sobs, “I can’t do this! Don’t make me do this!”

They study him in cold silence, marbled eyes unblinking. Apparently, they’ve said all they’re going to. The only thing left to do is choose. “You fucking bastards! Don’t do this!”

Clutching at his throat, he gags against the sudden urge to puke. Not that there’s anything left to throw up. Stomach acid, maybe. The bitter tang of it still burns in his throat like hot coals. God, he could really use a beer right now.

The thought shames him. Bethany would be disappointed. Danny’s most precious treasure, a beautiful, jade-eyed daughter he prays will never be like him. The only tangible thing in his life that gives him purpose. What would she say to him now if she were here? Rhetorical question. He knows, which makes his decision that much harder.

“Forty-two, forty-one, forty -”

The taste of warm copper fills his mouth before he realizes he’s bit his tongue. Exquisite pain causes the room to swim, but he doesn’t ease up. If he weren’t such a goddamn coward, he’d sever the damn thing with his teeth. Go for broke, as they say, choking to death on blood as it gushes down his airway and laugh as the light fades from his eyes, proud to have finally done something good.

But he’s always been a coward. A failure. Scum.

As a baby, Bethany hardly ever fussed. Even when the pertussis had wrecked her little body, she’d barely ever cried. There had been times when Danny was sure his little girl wasn’t long for this world, but Bethany had battled through it all with grace and grit virtually unheard of in a child. His fault, of course. He’d refused to take the whooping cough vaccination while she’d been in the womb and passed it on to her shortly after her birth. Danny remembered endless nights crying on his knees, begging God to bring her through, promising to give up the alcohol, the nights spent binge drinking at bars with so-called friends who cared less for him than he did them. It seemed God had finally answered. What a joke.

She’s now a bright, joyful five-year-old. A raven-haired little girl who can charm just about anyone with a dazzling smile and a cute giggle: how she manages to keep that kind spirit is beyond Danny’s comprehension. A miracle, considering what he’s put her through - all the lies and empty promises. I’ll never drink again, baby. I’ll pick you up tomorrow, ok? We’ll go for ice cream, how’s that sound? How many tears has she hidden behind that smile, sparing him the guilt he so richly deserves? Doesn’t he owe her something in return?

“CHOOSE, HUMAN.”

The gravelly voice crashes into Danny’s mind like a semi-truck, sending him to his knees with a cry of agony. It feels like he’s gotten close to one of those mega speakers at a Metallica concert and asked Hetfield to play him a guitar solo, but the voice is only in his mind. Shakily, he climbs to his feet, surprised there isn’t blood running from his ears.

Thirty seconds left.

Licking his lips, he scans the crowd outside the window. A sorry bunch of locals and tourists, drinking and celebrating without a care in the world, dancing while holding up cheap plastic wine cups filled with cheaper champagne. Some of them hadn’t bothered to wait for the countdown to finish and were already sucking each other’s faces like it was going out of style. His hands tighten into shaking fists. How dare they enjoy themselves while he was being forced to deal with devils?

“Twenty-seven, twenty-six, twenty-five -”

Time is moving much too fast. Tears well up and spill over, tracing rivulets down his flushed cheeks.

Bethany had begged him not to go; she’d wanted to spend New Year’s Eve with her daddy, but Danny had won an all-expense-paid trip from the radio, thinking his luck was finally improving. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The irony of that concept isn’t lost on him. A trip for one. Who else but he would have even wanted it? He should have known better than to go anyplace he couldn’t bring his daughter.

“Twenty, nineteen, eighteen -”

The force of their presence had woken him from a nap. A chill that ran deep into his bones, a cold so intense he’d thought he would never be warm again. When he’d seen them hovering over his bed, he’d opened his mouth to scream but had been unable. In nightmares, you couldn’t yell because of paralyzing fear - this felt more like trying to shout underwater. What came out was nothing more than silent pockets of air.

“Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen -”

They had fish-like lips yet conversed with Danny in his mind. They were here to study the extremes of human behavior. The choice was simple - in a horrific sort of way. Bethany, currently two states away, could die in her sleep tonight, or every man, woman, and child in New York City would take her place.

A no-brainer. He’d been a loser his whole life, but he’s not stupid. He doesn’t owe these people anything. In their own way, they were no different than the aliens in his room - uncaring, cold, and distant. He wouldn’t sacrifice his daughter for them.

But there’s always a catch.

They’d assured him Bethany would know of his decision either way. Bethany, who had once cried because he’d killed a spider in her room. Bethany, who’d insisted on giving away one of her teddies to a homeless woman on the street, would know that her father had condemned over eight million people to die. For her.

“Ten, nine -”

What would happen to his little girl then? She’d hate him, obviously. He can deal with that. Will she hate herself, though? Will she grow up feeling that awful burden, knowing her life could have spared millions of others? Will she be depressed? Will his sweet angel grow up traumatized, turn to drugs or alcohol, or worse, take her own life?

“Eight, seven, six -”

No more time. Danny looks into those alien glass eyes and stares into the void, into hell itself. He feels nothing but a vague, helpless anger, a distant emotion that brings no comfort. As the countdown reaches five, he spits beside their strange, inhuman feet on the carpeted floor and glares in angry defiance.

“Fuck you, then. I chose my daughter. Let the rest burn.”

“Four, three -”

The visitor’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, then widen more still. A brilliant white light envelopes everything, burning all to dust and ash.

Time stands still as horrific scenes flash through Danny’s mind in rapid succession. New York reduced to rubble, its people smoking ruins of charred flesh covered in ash and snow drifts. News Media around the world struggling to make sense of what happened. Eventually, the US government places the blame on some supposed terrorist organization in the Middle East. No one believes it, but the patriotic calls of citizens demanding blood cannot stop the inevitable tides of war. The US strikes first, killing thousands, and soon after, the whole world is at war once more.

Danny doesn’t see who sets off the first nukes; he only sees his daughter, standing in a yellow sundress on a grassy hill, holding her mommy’s hand as the first warhead hits. She is still smiling, but there is fear and pain in those green eyes. Right before the fire dries her tears and melts her flesh, she screams her daddy’s name, her voice joining with billions as their lives are snuffed away.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The scream tears from his throat like a buzzsaw. He falls to his knees, clawing at his eyes as the terrible visions fade.

“Happy New Year!” The crowd shouts. Fireworks thunder in the night sky.

There is no sign of the visitors.