I feel grimy saltwater run down my face. Light returns. I sit up. Too quickly, as the world spins around me.

“Take it easy. That was a bad fall. I heard an awful cracking noise too.” I feel a comforting hand on my shoulder. Steadying me. I pat my pockets and find my tablet. Cracked screen. It’d be a chore to draw anything on it now. I half-heartedly put it away. At least my body feels unbroken.

What happened? Last thing I remember was…my brother. Pulled into the air! I try to stand up, but the hand restrains me.

“Wait for a minute or so. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in—” I slap the hand away.

“I’m not waiting. I’ve got to find my brother!”

“I get it, hombre. I’m a brother too. I made sure to watch where the birds went. Don’t worry, they’re not far.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “How long was I out for?”

“Like a minute.” I take a closer look at this kind gangster. He’s pudgy, or fat in this era, which is unusual for most survivors. He’s about my height. Which is a little weird considering I’m short compared to most teenagers in Sojourn. That’s thanks to my mostly Asian ancestry, I’m sure. This guy looks like he’s descended from Latinos like the rest of the gang. You’d think race wouldn’t matter as much to people after an apocalypse like the Hollowing. Landlubbers always seem to care though, so it’s important to keep it in mind. The thug’s dark eyes look concerned. And…familiar? His teeth look terrible. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone with teeth this bad. Not since toothbrushes stay good forever and you can make an okay one from a stick with a knife if you need to. My gaze drops lower and I notice he’s wearing a cross underneath his sweat-stained white tank top as the shape presses on the material as he leans toward me. I’ve seen it before.

“Juan?”

The thug’s eyes narrow in thought, “Amigo?” Juan grins, pats my back comfortingly and continues his report, “After I figured out they were just heading into the old resort, I went to get some seawater to wake you up. Now follow my finger with your eyes.”

I splutter, “Look, I know you’re trying to see if I’ve got a concussion, but I feel fine. I need to—”

“Shut up and do it, amigo. Or I’m pinning you in the sand.” Juan’s dark brows furrow. My old friend has put on some serious weight with muscle hiding in there based on the grip securely fastening my shoulder. The shoulder Lee pulled earlier. I don’t doubt the threat. But he hasn’t seen me in years.

I plant my right foot and jump back to a standing position by using the pressure of his arm to swing the left side of my body back up. We glare at each other. But then Juan snorts a laugh, shrugs, releases my shoulder and offers me a handshake.

We try to limit possible infections on Sojourn. Handshakes are a great disease vector and my mind briefly reminds me we don’t handshake on Sojourn. But I don’t hesitate. I take Juan’s hand. He clasps my hand with a forceful grip. It turns into a friendly competition.

He snorts out, “Typical Mateo. Always got to win, eh?”

“Sorry. It’s a habit. We good, Juan?”

“No problemo here, amigo. I know I’d be going crazy if that was one of my hermanitos taken! Now that I don’t think you’re going to pass out on me, I think we can risk a little exercise.”

I wish we had time to catch up. I really want to know how Juan’s family is doing and what he’s been up to since we first met here. Something like five years ago now? But we’ve got a mission. No hermanitos left behind.

Juan stops as we crest a small hill in the sand, “That wasn’t there yesterday. Did Sojourn make more domes, amigo?”

“No, Juan. What do you mean?” I quickly see exactly what Juan means. The old hotel now has a shimmering translucent barrier around it. A dome like Sojourn’s. Except this dome lacks any carbon fiber wiring or other signs of being physical.

Juan walks towards the hotel. I take a closer look at the place, as our footsteps softly fall in the cooling sand. The old resort looks neglected. Paint which used to gleam in the sun as a soft cream color leaves faded tear stains on the walls from years in the rain. A testimony to past storms and sorrows. We walk up a path of rotting wooden stairs from the beach up to the front doors. The old wood doors are somehow intact. Glass shards jut like broken teeth in window frames beside the doors. There aren’t any bits of glass on the ground outside. Most likely a storm caused this damage and blew the windows inwards. Or some teens with nothing better to do. Both forces of nature in their own way.

What is not a natural force is the Holo seagull standing in front of the doors, behind the barrier. Juan puts out a meaty hand to stop me from running at it.

Juan asks me, “How much do you know about the glows? I bet you don’t see them very often on that floating city of yours.”

“I understand enough. We call them Holos. They track electromagnetic frequencies. They attack adults. They are responsible for the Hollowing of civilization as we know it. Miss anything?”

He looks thoughtful. “I didn’t know they tracked electromagnetic frequencies.” He looks quizzically at me, “What are those?”

“Stuff like electronics, radios, and so on.”

“Interesting.” He looks down at the ground, lost in thought. I wait for a bit to see if he’ll enlighten me any further. I watch the glowing seagull pecking at the floor impatiently. Is it trying to invite us in or picking up glass shards?

Juan turns back around to look through the doorway at the Holo or ‘glow’ as he calls it. “I’ve never seen a cold glow, the ones without the red outline, attack anybody who didn’t look old enough to shave. Until today. Usually, they just patrol the fields and orchards. I have seen them grab mice and pests though. You think we’re turning into pests in their eyes or something?”

“What’s your point, Juan?”

“My point is, me and my…’associates’ started investigating around here because the glows are acting funny. Not ‘ha ha’ funny either. They’ve been picking up trash, gathering in groups of different species, and all of them are coming here.” We watch as a small owl builds up a tiny pile of glass shards. It then swallows the pile of jagged shards and we see it grow briefly brighter. Juan stares back at me. His dark eyes filled with something new, uncertainty. “It all started the last few days. But today the glows have been… communicating.”

“Today?” I ask.

“Yeah, today. We figured your dome thing in the sea had something to do with it. That’s why we came down here to the hotel. To find answers.” Juan replies.

A glowing sign appears as the Holo seagull taps its beak against the barrier. “Maintenance ongoing. Please return tomorrow.”