Young Cross pressed his face tightly against two small, cupped hands to cancel out the glare of his bedroom light. With his surveillance point still somewhat blurred, he grabbed a shirt from a laundry basket in the corner of his bedroom in-order to wipe the glass, then raced over and turned off the light. After heading back to the window where he once stood, he removed the remaining moisture from the glass and was now amazed by the clarity of the fire blazing throughout the power plant a few miles away. While standing there peering out of the window, he heard multiple explosions on the horizon. With both hands cupped closer together as he turned his attention away from the fire, again; he slowly wiped the excess moisture created from his exhalation while staring out of the window. Abruptly, an unidentified flying object slowly entered the left-side of the young boy's peripheral vision. The oval shaped craft floated at a snail's pace pass the side of his house while making a soft pinging sound. Both curious and terrified, Cross is about to set off on a riveting and bone-chilling journey of survival.