His naked eyes were stripping further into blindness, but not before watching the answer to his call.
His call for help.
As he stood in the middle of the road, the wind seemed to draw in from corners, reaching slowly once, then quickening and ripping toward him from every direction. It ceremonially roared and rotated before touching him, now holding him in an unreal clutch.
The air became forceful to push it’s way out of the crowd, toppling other particles to grasp the sky, reaching reaching. And the storm then deflected. Still with eyes on him.
He was untouched then. But lost. And he heard knocks and sirens, as if he was being divinely crazed alone. Life continued. Without him.
And he stared into the twisting, turning sky, sipping seas, the sun blinking and blazing in flutters of the dawn, as it submarined across the desolation soaked storm.
Uneasy darkness settled but only in him. He could see people flashing torch lights and lanterns around the translucent walls of the wind, chasing after one another. They were speaking of the news, and new apartments, and openings in ozone, and if their was life on Mars. Nobody knew.
A brave design marked his brain. And he crossed his mind with strength, knowing he didn’t have a lot, reading into an existence of his own. Operating in the future, he would be more sure of the unknown, and prepared and repaired for all that has been and will.