The current date is March 2055.

The dusk covers the sky. The sun is about to fall. She needs to get some rest. Her reddish rays shine with goodbye. I look into it. I see her. She is pretty the way she falls into the farthest line of the sea. She is never been radiant like this.

Ah, that line of the sea. It is vacant. No mountains above this line--only the precious orange sun.

To rest my body while watching her, my elbows touch the trail of this lonely road.

I look at the bottom of the trail--there are full of rocks. The waves are their whistles. It is so peaceful to hear those waves pounding those rocks.

I look around my back, no cars are passing by. And the other side of the road is completely a forest.

At my back, on the other side of the road, I only see a single black cab. At the driver's seat of that single cab, a car window is open. There he is--my local cab operator in a perfect white uniform. He often yawns looking at the sun falling, while listening to an old song on the radio with a distorted signal. That yawn feels that I am killing his time. I am sure he appreciates the view, but I should give him the favor.

I walk forward to him.

I give him a womanly gentle tap, "If you don't mind sir, please give me five more minutes."

"No problem, sir." he answers me with a smirk, "just take your time."

I open the back door of the cab. Grab my bag. Give it zip and get the camera. I remember something about this object as I hold I grab it. This camera was from my sister, Clara. She was my last family. We grew up with only two of us survived the cruelty of life.

The date was September 2052, three years ago. I remembered everything about this camera. I remembered the night when I was standing in front of this hospital. I looked around, I see everyone in distress. People were going in and out of the hospital, running, walking in panic.

While I was outside of the hospital, an old woman fell on her knee and she was carrying her fainted child. I remembered her high-pitch voice shouting for help. I tried to offer my help but I was immobilized--the child's saliva was coming out in thick and black color. The people around became thick. A nurse came and destroyed the thickness of people around. She checked the boy's pulse and luckily, it was not everybody's expectation. The mother was shouting in panic and she demanded immediate action without thinking of anyone except the child. The nurse did nothing but to give the old woman a queue number.

Everybody was in a panic. I saw the chaos in every people thickened by volume. There was a little stampede as more people were admitted and just like the child, saliva was leaking out of the mouth, immobilized, and demanded immediate action. As the tension rose, I returned to my correct thinking--I had a purpose inside and that was to visit my sister, Clara.

I walked near the nurse station. I remember staff and an irate family member of a patient--they argued. He was hysterical he was not thinking right. He was consumed by worry. There were no rooms left for more patients. Waiting sheds turned into wards. There was hearsay as I walked--an outbreak of a deadly virus nearby, or in the other stories, there was a food poisoning.

At one private room, I opened the door. A patient lied on the rusty iron of bed. She was the only person inside. It was my sister, Clara, in her last minutes. She was at her deepest sleep at that time. I slowly walked towards her, observed her, and a camera on the table at her right side caught my eyes.

As I tried to touch her camera, she tried to open her eyes slowly. She looked at me with her eyes note widened. She slowly tried to reach the camera but I stopped her. She kept on pointing at the camera without the ability to speak. She barely moved her arm and I felt the suffering.

At her dying breath, she finally entrusted her camera. I never turned it on until her life is finally at peace. Days after her death, I attempted to see the photos saved at her camera. There was a single picture--a picture of herself holding a black box imprinted with a gold pattern. Her background was her cabinet.

Until now, three years after she died, three years after I saw that mysterious black box, I have no time to check what's inside of it.

I am in a dream of being a photographer since I was ten years old. But destiny chose to trick me. Life is way too hard. Instead, I chose another path. It was something I did not regret at all, nor satisfied me. I am a journalist. Today's living is all about being practical. Pursuing a dream is not a priority. An option, rather. And that option is perfect right now. I want to be a photographer, a highly professional one.

Going back to the present, the sea is gentle enough to make a person stay. Waves sound lovely. I observe the surrounding--the sky will now fall into the night.

And before the sun completely hides, I must click the right angle of her beauty.

Through the camera, I stare at the sun. I realize something before I even give it a push. The sun is the hope we need. She is the symbol of hope--the symbol of chance. The darkness starts to consume her, but tomorrow is another for her to shine.

In all of a sudden, I finally take the sun a courageous countless shot. Pictures of her cannot describe the true radiance but despite it, a picture of a sun falling will help my mission. It will add flavor to my current goal.

But now, I must return to the cab.

I sit down, close the door, and give the cab operator a hand to proceed and let the distorted music from the radio continues.

While on my way to a place I need, the road is long enough for me to completely watch the sun falling into the line of the sea. The darkness is getting her turn to rule the sky.

The only sound I hear inside the cabin is the distorted music from the radio. The cab operator becomes bored. Until he finally asks,

"Sir, a relative to visit?"

"No. I have no relatives anymore." I answer.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"I only have an urgent task."

Three hours ago, before I requested the cab operator to stop and take a picture of the sunset, I was in the town of Greenfield. Greenfield is the stopover before going on a long ride towards the town of Pine trees. Greenfield is peaceful but crowded in business. There were sellers of meat, and delicacies. The terminal made the town congested.

The cab operator suddenly asks. "a work-related task or I may sound wrong?"

"Both work-related and vital information against our enemies right now," I answer.

Yes. We have. The town of Pine Trees is covered in greenery because of the tallest pine trees. Those trees seem to protect that town from the threat of above, the current enemy of the world. I must go to that town. I must meet them. I need to find a large number of puzzle pieces.

"Enemies? How urgent was that?" the cab operator asks.

"It is at the top priority right now. A priority that even I hate to travel four to five hours, I am here to keep in touch with them." I answer.

"Them?"

"Yes. You heard it right. I need to see these people."

I need to see these people--three to be exact. Initially, it was another boring and wasteful task. I thought it was. There is no thrill upon it. But soon I realized, I must take this task--it has a connection with the biggest threat to the world.

The cab operator goes into his curiosity. He starts to wonder, he starts to add more questions. He looks at the front mirror getting into my sight.

"Why meeting these people?" he asks.

Before anything gets deeper, my phone suddenly rings at the bottom of my bag.

In my haste, I invert my bag--messing up everything. Staffs scatter below. I easily find my phone as it is the only thing that vibrates. I look upon my smartphone and I see the name of the caller, Mister Yu. I press the green icon on the phone to answer him.

"Good afternoon, Mister Yu." My introduction to my caller.

"Hello, Charles. How are you? How's travel?" he asks with his voice begins to rot.

"Still a few kilometers away, sir. I guess."

"That's good. Right now, where are you heading?"

The road is smooth but the town is still the distance. I pause for a moment and I answer him by sending my present location through a message. For ten years being his subordinate, this is the first time he asks my location during my travel.

After a second, he receives my present location through a message I sent.

"I see. Your location is far from it," he responds.

"What are you talking about, sir? Far from what?"

"There was a circular storm cloud nearby. Any sound of thunder you can hear now?"

"Everything is normal here, Mister Yu."

"Good to hear, then. I will contact you soon, Charles. Please take care. God will help us."

"I agree. Thank you, sir."

Mister Yu is a generous old man. He offered his life on this mission. For his final goal before retiring, he had the plan to talk to the three people I will meet soon. But he is already failing. He cannot walk like when he was at his younger age. He is already sitting in a luxurious intelligent wheelchair. As his loyal subordinate for ten years, I accepted the mission he wants to do. I will record every bit of information I may gather the moment I met these three people living in the town of Pine Trees.

As Mister Yu ends the phone call, I look around. My stuff is scattered. It fills my seat enough for me to feel annoyed. I put them back inside my by one by one.

While lifting every one of the pieces of stuff, I look at the right window. The right side of the road is a high ground covered in thick forest. Dancing trees kill my worry. It calms me.

When everything is inside my bag, I look at the left side. Still, the sea is present in my eyes. The color starts to become midnight blue. I realize that this road is too long and lies at the edge of the land. Most parts of the road are even near the cliff.

For a couple of minutes, I realize that this road offers the perfect view of the vacant sea. I did the right to stop. I did the right to take a shot.

Staring at the sea, I feel a bit of worry. It starts to feel something eerie. Why did I start to think deeper? But I should not. I am confident that everything will be fine.

I wear off my hat and open the window to feel relax. I want fresh air from the trees. Anything that makes me discomfort is suddenly released. I feel the breath of nature. It offers something that I cannot resist.

I close my eyes, all I can hear are the waves splashing at those rocks. I also hear the whistle of the wind. There is comfort here. I see nothing but hear everything. It is peaceful. Not until. . .

A foreign sound starts to get loud. It is familiar. The sound comes from a far distance and it is approaching a bit fast. It does not come from the trees nor even created by waves.

What is it?

I open my eyes wide and listen.

I know it.

The fleet of helicopters coming!

The fleet joins us. But they had a faster speed. These white helicopters are heading to the north, the same direction we are heading. In a blink of an eye, I see the seal of Central HQ imprinted on one side of each helicopter--the black cross with the sun behind it. It came from the Capital City. There is one Alpha of the fleet, the biggest one having four blades.

What's going on, then?

I feel discomfort again. I feel something is happening. We are not aware. The sound of a single helicopter is a child's dream. But a fleet is not. Something is happening. And Mister Yu should have a call now.

"I'm sorry to hang you," I answer the cab operator. "Did you see that? It seems alarming."

"It should be at the news, right? But I have no idea what's going on." the cab operator responds.

"Well, you are going to know it sooner."

"Should I prepare for it?"

"You already had the answer. You and your family should do it."

"Is it a big storm or something else?"

"The latter. I guess both of us have no idea right now. And going to the town of Pine Trees will reveal everything."

After a short conversation, we approaching an arch. The huge arch seems made out of smooth white concrete. The text is visible that the cab operator and I could read it as we approach.

We are entering the town of Pine Trees!

Passing by the arch, from the sea on the left side of the road and high lands on the right side, the scenery turns into a thick forest. There are pine trees around. These tallest trees choose to cover the road to protect travelers from the weather.

Since the night is rising, I feel a bit creepy as the only source for us to see is the headlight of the cab. While still the radio is turned on, I amuse myself by continuing the chat.

"Not a ghost town, right?" I ask.

"Why did you ask sir?" the cab operator responds.

"Maybe because of the boundary. Or the way we enter this town. There are no houses, not even a streetlight."

"It's the opposite sir. Pine Trees is another crowded town--just like Greenfield. Coincidence that the town seems covered in thick woods."

I could still feel the discomfort.

Is it because the road is creepy? Or is it because of those fleets? Are they going to land in the same town? There is something that bothers me.

I love this job. I am a journalist. I once took a risk.

The date was November 2052, three years ago, two months after Clara left me. Mister Yu gave me a chance to travel outside the country. I was excited. It was my first time. Going out of the country was a thrilling opportunity. That's what I thought.

I remember that night when I was in Beijing, China. People around were in question. They were asking. They were wondering. There was something inside a temple. The temple was so small--only a few people could visit at a certain time. I saw police cars and ambulance blocked the road, covered the temple from the curiosity of everyone.

I tried to ask one of the policemen, tried to record them, tried to approach them. But there was a language barrier. All I did was to hold my company camera and record everything. I tried to push myself to penetrate the thick line of people. But I failed.

After trying to ask random people, a fellow journalist answered me. He was also recording the same scene. He was an English speaker. And according to him, the temple was already. . .

quarantined for sixteen hours.

There were claims of visitors trapped inside shouting hard. But the unbreakable wall of glass installed around the temple stopped revelations inside to spill. There were one hundred forty-two tourists inside the temple.

According to the journalist I asked, visitors inside were handcuffed as they kept on howling like an animal. It is believed that a new virus has been contracted and initially thought contagious. Mysterious black fluids were flowing out of their nose, eyes, and mouth.

Whether it was intended or not, I failed to find the answer. I stayed. I did not sleep. I did not eat. I only had water to drink. I stuck to the Chinese journalist for more information. At that time, we knew there was the same case across the world but this is documented. I wanted some answers from inside the temple. The people around could not be controlled. There was tension. Everybody wanted answers. They wanted to these trapped visitors but authorities maintained their tolerance. No one was allowed to see them--even the family members. I tried to convince them but they were strict.

As I return to the country, Mister Yu revealed that our company received a protocol from an international organization about spilling the information I obtained. Are they suppressing the truth?

Going to the present time, the news about the Chinese temple has been buried. It has been toppled by diversion. But the world is getting worse. The higher org could not band-aid the truth anymore, the wound is getting wider, it is revealed. Chaos is rising. A chunk of puzzle pieces is still missing. But still, the road should not swallow my courage.

"Sir. What kind of threat are we facing right now?" the cab operator asks.

"Make a guess," I responded.

"A viral outbreak?"

When I was in Beijing, China, looking for information about the visitors quarantined inside, I remember something more cryptic. They were controlled by somebody as fluids kept coming out of their faces. Quarantined tourists were varied. They spoke a different language but with the same meaning.

"If that was a viral outbreak, any idea why did they kept on saying--God is watching us? One meaning, different language?"