Excerpt from We Are the Ants by Shaun Hutchinson, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

I decided to test my theory.

"Are you going to blow up the planet?"

SHOCK.

"Am I going to blow it up?"

SHOCK.

I finally gave up and stayed on the floor. "Is something going to destroy the earth?"

EUPHORIA.

"Can you stop it?"

HALLELUJAH!
My eyes rolled back as a shiver of bliss rippled through me. "How do we stop it?" I looked to the slugger for a clue, but it hadn't moved since slapping me. What I knew was this: when I pressed the button, Earth didn't explode. When I didn't, it did. It couldn't be that simple, though. "Pressing the button will prevent the destruction of the planet?"

UNADULTERATED RAPTURE.

"So, what? All those other times I pressed it were just practice?"

BABY ANGELS EVERYWHERE

"Great. So, when is this apocalypse set to occur?" I wasn't sure how the aliens were going to answer an open-ended question, especially since they'd never answered me before, but they were capable of interstellar travel; providing me with a date should have been cake. A moment later the projection of the earth morphed into a reality TV show called Bunker, and a hammy announcer's voice boomed at me from everywhere at once.

"This group of fifteen strangers has been locked in a bunker for six months. With only one hundred and forty-four days remaining, you won't want to miss a single minute as they compete for food, water, toilet paper, and each other's hearts."

"You guys get the worst stations up here." The commercial faded and Earth returned. "So, one hundred and forty-four days?" It took me longer than I'll admit to do the math in my head. "That means the world is going to end January twenty-ninth, 2016?"

SWEET EUPHORIA.

I never got tired of being right.

When my head cleared, I came to the conclusion that the sluggers were screwing with me. It was the only logical explanation. I refused to believe that they had the power to prevent the world's end but had chosen to leave the decision up to a sixteen-year-old nobody.

But if it wasn't a joke, if the choice was mine, then I held the fate of the world in my sweaty hand. The aliens probably didn't care one way or another.

"Just to be clear: I have until January twenty-ninth to press the button?"

EUPHORIA.

"And if I do, I'll prevent the planet's destruction?"

EUPHORIA.

"And if I choose not to press it?"

The earth exploded, the projection disappeared, and the lights died.