[ WP ] You and your team land on mars for the first time in human history . There is only one problem . About a mile from your landing zone , there is a single set of human footprints .

`` Look. It's just an anomaly. An absurd coincidence. ``, Benson tried to convince the others for what felt like the hundredth time. His voice had gotten raspy, just as he had gotten more and more cranky over the course of our journey. 
 
 `` I saw it. We've all seen it.'' Annabelle looked into each and every pair of eyes in the cramped galley of the habitat. As if they were accomplices to her conspiracy. 
 
 `` Yes. Yes. We've all seen it. But what exactly did we see?'' Benson's gaze rushed from face to face, desperately trying to connect with an ally in a room, that Annabelle had slowly won over in the past few hours of discussion. `` What you are suggesting is impossible!'' His hand went up again to bring a nonexistent smoke to his mouth and upon the realization, that there would be no sweet smokey relief, scratched the stubble on his chin instead. 
 
 `` Us being here would have been impossible five years ago. Now, look, where we are. ``, Izzy interjected. Her taking Annabelle's side had probably been the only thing, that both of them had ever agreed on. Annabelle turned, singling me out of the crowd. 
 
 `` What do you think? ``, she asked me. The expression on her face told its own story. *If you love me, you better defend me* was written on it. And an implicit *or else*. I did not like that expression. I much preferred her wide grin, that mirrored my own and which we could not suppress when the both of us were undisturbed. 
 
 I was n't prepared to stand in the limelight. Truth be told, I did not even have an opinion yet. I did not know, whether Annabelle or Benson told the truth, or neither of them, for that matter. I just knew that it was odd. 
 
 `` It looked like a set of footprints. ``, I began, carefully tip-toeing around my choice of words. 
 
 `` Human footprints. ``, Izzy corrected me. 
 
 `` That's not in question. ``, Benson erupted again. `` The question is, whether they are natural or artificial.'' 
 
 All eyes were on me. 
 
 `` Maybe we should take another look at them tomorrow morning when there is light. ``, I said after an uncomfortable silence. 
 
 Annabelle had given me the cold shoulder that night. She had not even talked to me. Perhaps she felt like she had sad everything during the meeting in the galley and there was nothing to add. I betrayed her and she did not care, why. I felt guilty. I knew she was afraid of her own theory, which she had revealed during the meeting. I wanted to protect her, make her feel safe. I did not know, how. I did not know anything at all, it seemed. 
 
 How did human footprints get on Mars? Benson had to be right. It had to be a natural occurrence. Martian grains grating at the surface, leaving an eerie mark. There was no other explanation. None, that made me comfortable. But then again, I had seen it with my own eyes. It had looked so real. As if someone had stood there on the red plane with his bare feet, watching our module ship land on the ground, like we watch the ocean go as waves sweep over our feet, buried in the slick sand of the beach. At any rate, we would know more in the morning. 
 
 `` Can you find out, how old it is, Patrick? ``, I aked Patrick Olms, who struggled with putting the seals on the petri dishes in his thick gloves. The voice that answered from my earpiece was distorted because the signal had to travel the mile to our base and back through sandy winds, despite us standing next to each other. 
 
 `` I could if we were on earth. But as it is, with the drills and the lab still in orbit, I can only make a guess.'' The man paused, while he put another lid on one of his samples with clumsy fingers. `` What I can tell you is that it is eroding as we speak.'' He pointed at the prints. 
 
 It was true. The edges, that had been so clear cut yesterday, were already deteriorating. The toeprints, that had been so vivid, had almost disappeared completely. A good finger width of sand had filled the print. 
 
 `` Does that mean it's recent? ``, I asked Patrick and the others, who stood with me in their space suits around the footprints. I heard the click of a microphone, but whoever it was, held their breath. 
 
 We made back for camp, samples, and pictures in tow, that with the means of science would yield us the answers we sought. Whether we would like them, or not. 
 
 `` This is team alpha for base: We are headed back.'' 
 
 No answer. I checked the reception: full bars. 
 
 `` Guys? Can you hear me? ``, I asked the others, but they did not answer, either. My mic must have a malfunction or my sending unit and they could not hear me. I signaled Brian behind me, that I could not hear them, as we had learned in training and he gave me the thumbs up. 
 
 On our way back, the sandstorm intensified to the point of it getting so dark, that I could barely see the person in front of me. I was relieved when we finally reached the base camp. I stowed away my bag of samples in the hatch on the front side and made my way into the habitat. 
 
 The others must have been really quick. Their space suits already hung on the hangers. I was lucky to have made it back, I realized upon seeing their suits hanging. They were all covered in dust and looked like they had been in service for years. I did not want to know, what would have happened if I'd gotten lost in the storm. I put my suit next to the others. Strangely, it almost looked pristine. 
 
 `` Guys? ``, I called out. `` Brian? Patrick? Jezabel? Yasmin? Dr. Paul? Where are you?'' Nobody answered. When I entered, the habitat corridor was dark and empty. I found the switch, but nothing happened when I flicked it on. 
 
 `` Guys? Come on, that is n't funny. ``, I said. I followed the curvature of the corridor along the walls with my hands to the next switch at the end of the hall. The light came back on. The corridor was the same, as the one I went through earlier this morning, but it looked twenty years older. Dirty footprints covered the floor that had been shiny just a few hours ago. The white walls had turned gray. 
 
 Uneasy, I opened the hatch to the living quarter. Music filled the familiar room with the unfamiliar setup. The whole room had been rearranged and everything looked like it had been in use for decades. I followed the source of the music, a jukebox that I had never seen before during all this time we had spent flying through space. There was nobody. I searched the whole place, but there was nobody. All the space suits were here and accounted for. Yet nobody was in any of the rooms of the habitat, or all the other places, that strangely had found their way down from orbit to here before they were scheduled to arrive during the next few weeks. 
 
 Brian was n't there, Patrick was n't there, Jezabel was n't there, Yasmin was n't there, Dr. Paul was n't there. Benson and Izzy were n't there. Most of all, Annabelle was n't there. Everyone was missing. I was all alone.
