The Last Signal
In the sudden silence, Sarah heard her own ragged breathing and the distant sound of footsteps on gravel. Someone was walking up her driveway, their pace measured and deliberate
The power grid had been failing for three days straight, but tonight felt different. Sarah pressed her ear against the basement door, listening to the mechanical hum that shouldn't exist in a house without electricity.
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
Her phone had died hours ago, along with every other electronic device in the neighborhood. The blackout stretched across the entire county, according to the last radio broadcast before the stations went silent. Yet something in her basement was very much alive.
Sarah's fingers traced the cold metal of the flashlight she'd found in the kitchen drawer. Dead, like everything else. She'd tried the candles first, but they wouldn't stay lit. Even fire seemed reluctant to burn in whatever electromagnetic field had settled over her home.
The humming stopped.
In the sudden silence, Sarah heard her own ragged breathing and the distant sound of footsteps on gravel. Someone was walking up her driveway, their pace measured and deliberate. She crept to the living room window and peered through a crack in the curtains.
A figure stood at the edge of her property, perfectly still. Too tall. Too straight. Even in the darkness, she could see it wasn't moving the way people moved. Its head turned toward her window with mechanical precision, and though she couldn't make out its face, she felt its attention like ice water in her veins.
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
The basement noise resumed, louder now, almost eager. The figure began walking toward her front door with that same unnatural gait, each step falling in perfect rhythm with the sound below.
Sarah backed away from the window, her mind racing. Three days ago, the news had reported strange signals from deep space – patterns that didn't match any known natural phenomena. Scientists called it the most significant discovery in human history. Then the blackouts began.
The doorknob rattled.
She ran toward the kitchen, searching desperately for something that might work as a weapon. Her hand closed around a chef's knife just as the front door creaked open. No lock could have held against whatever was out there, she realized. It had simply been waiting for permission.
"Sarah Chen," a voice called from her living room. It sounded like her brother's voice, but David had been dead for two years. "We've been trying to reach you."
The basement humming rose to a fever pitch. Sarah pressed herself against the kitchen wall, knife trembling in her grip. Through the window, she could see more figures emerging from the tree line. Dozens of them, all walking with that same perfect, inhuman precision.
"The signal is complete," the voice continued, closer now. "Your planet's electromagnetic grid has been successfully integrated. Please report to your nearest collection point."
Sarah's reflection caught in the kitchen window – but it wasn't her reflection anymore. Her eyes had changed, glowing with the same cold light she'd seen from the figure outside. Her hand moved without her permission, setting the knife down on the counter.
The basement door opened by itself, revealing stairs that descended much deeper than they had yesterday. The humming had become a song now, beautiful and terrible, calling her home to a place that had never been Earth.
As Sarah began walking toward the basement, she understood with perfect clarity that the invasion hadn't come from the sky.
It had come from within.
