The last time the northern lights shone so far south they were said to foreshadow Armageddon. Every generation wants to be the last.

 

June knows they aren’t that special.

 

She views the event as a new dawn, the goddess Aurora reborn to herald the coming of her brother. Sol is angry today, exploding with rageful radiation that washes over the globe with horrific beauty.

 

What is he trying to show us? June wants to know, always craving cosmic knowledge.

 

She missed the solar eclipse that mesmerized the nation, stuck at her Dad’s place in Arizona where the sun never hides. She’s back in Oregon now, trekking to the top of Mt. Timanwi.

 

Her friends are in the parking lot below, too drunk or high to climb the basalt outcropping that will get her above the treeline.

 

Other people bring burdensome emotions, anyway. Also expectations, desires, and an overwhelming presence. Being alone isn’t just easier, it’s the very definition of peace.

 

June hops a four-foot gap in the rock and digs her boot into a hollow on the other side. She finds a handhold in the moonlight and boosts herself over the ledge. The final stretch is gentle, capped with a rounded stone near the top.

 

The lights have already started, a ruddy haze on the horizon licked by emerald flames. June lays back, lost in light, bathing in the electromagnetic sea.

Illumination intensifies over the next hour, or five. Her sense of self drips and slips into chameleonic textures, like how her roommates describe a DMT trip or a near-death experience on one of those shows.

 

June sees from all perspectives, infinite selves on infinite mountains. Some are sitting, some are standing, one is naked, dancing. Some of her selves are surrounded by friends. All of them are smiling. All except her.

 

“Juuuuuune!” Reina’s voice breaks the trance. “Come on, we gotta go!”

 

June sits up slowly, clumsy in this body made of meat and bone. Everyone is waiting for her. Panic blooms behind her ribs and June scrambles down to the ledge. She could leap from here and clear the gap, but it would be safer to take the extra time and go around.

 

As soon as June decides not to jump, she jumps. She also stays on the ledge, watching. Her toe catches the edge and she dives fifty feet to the jagged slope below, body bursting into ink-black smoke.

 

June chokes on a scream, heart lodged in her throat. Was it a premonition? Hallucination? Maybe Joey dosed her with mushrooms.

 

She shakes her head, climbs around the crag, and winds through the woods. The black van’s single headlight is on, engine running.

 

“Finally,” Joey says, throwing his hands in the air. “We almost left you.”

 

“Sorry for taking so long,” June says between breaths.

 

“It’s okay.” Reina slides the door open. “Weren’t the lights amazing?”

 

June’s two roommates are passed out in the back. It’s 3 AM, a reasonable time to sleep, but something about the scene is unnerving. Joey fumbles with the driver-side handle.

 

“Is he okay to drive?” June asks, hesitating at the door.

 

“I’m good,” Joey says. “Only had one cap like six hours ago.”

 

“You said you weren’t having any,” Reina says, followed by tense silence.

 

“I can drive,” June blurts, surprising them all.

 

“Good idea,” Reina says, guiding Joey around to the passenger side.

 

June hates driving other people’s cars; the malaise is multiplied by each soul on board. But something, many things, tell her she has to drive tonight.

 

The road is dark and twisty. She grips the greasy wheel, eyes wide, headlight cutting a narrow swath through the pre-dawn gloom.

 

Another headlight flashes in the mirror, catching up quickly. Junes drifts toward the shoulder as a black van flies by, Joey behind the wheel and Reina at his side. Another familiar face peeks out an open window.

 

Junes lock eyes for an endless instant.

 

“Wha—” her voice catches as the other van barrels around a tight turn.

 

It bumps the guardrail, veers into the opposite lane, and crashes through the barrier. Taillights carve a spectral path as the van sails off the cliffside. June jerks back onto the road.

 

“Hey, you okay?” Reina puts a hand on her shoulder.

 

“Yeah, yeah…” June says. “Just thought I saw something.”

 

She saw what might have happened if she didn’t drive. No, what did happen. The other her knew it too. June prays for the visions to stop, for day to break and kill curious shadows with its monotonous light.

 

The black van passes her again on the highway, hitting an oncoming truck in an inky implosion. Then another goes off the road and flips into a field. June swerves onto a back-road, a route she’s never taken.

 

At a railroad underpass, the van is crumpled against a cement pillar. June hears herself screaming. She turns up the radio and glues her eyes to the passing pavement.

 

Finally home, she jumps out of the vehicle. The others drag themselves to their apartments as June stumbles behind the building, heading for the river. Maybe a cold shock would wake her so she could go to sleep. Anything to make it end.

 

Each step sends countless clones in every direction. The beam narrows as she nears the bank, a torrent of Junes pouring into the water. She feels pulled along now, watching the current wash herself away.

 

“June?” Reina is at her side, tired eyes crackling with concern. “Looks like you want to get in the water.”

 

“Maybe,” June says. “It looks…inviting.”

 

“Yeah, it does,” Reina says, “but I thought you couldn’t swim. Want to wade with me?”

 

June closes her eyes to hide the pulsing possibilities. Only one choice feels right.

 

“I’d love to.” She opens her eyes on Reina’s smile and takes her outstretched hand.

 

Fingers interlock across all realities. She no longer sees herself, only the path ahead. They step into the water.

 

June is in unison.