Tagged: ak-47
What Did You Do, Ray?
Dear Planet Earth,
It may be snowing at the North Pole, but here in the outskirts of Vegas, things are heating up. The homeless people are coming in droves now, surrounding the base from every side.
Each new group is better equipped than the last. Two days ago, they came with AK-47s. Yesterday, they started wearing helmets and body armor. Today, our boys reported seeing some of them carrying RPG rocket launchers. That’s what got us really freaked out and probably a little trigger happy.
I snapped this picture near the western gate a few hours ago. According to Christiansen, one of our guys saw one of them point a rifle towards the base — something they’ve never done before. This caused the soldier in question to start firing his weapon into the air wildly, which caused another Call of Duty addict to throw some smoke grenades at our silent enemies.
As you can see from the photo, the CDC is also here now, although no one can seem to give me a straight answer as to why. They’ve been setting up colored flags all around the base and taking readings from what I can only assume to be either Geiger counters or the ghost traps from Ghostbusters. It’s assuring and unnerving all at once — and I have to wonder, if all the phones and radios are still not working, who they gonna call?
Battle Lines
Dear Planet Earth,
Be careful what you wish for. I tried to find General Talpa and see if he could help me put Diana to rest, only to find myself in a long line among much more important people looking for him.
I did find the next best thing. Lieutenant Christiansen is next in command (though he doesn’t look two years older than myself) and is apparently stockpiling all the friendliness on base. He listened carefully to my edited story about escaping the militia of vagabonds. He gave his condolences, but said that even if he wanted to help me, he couldn’t. His scouts — and how crazy is it that 21st century warfare still employs “scouts”? — reported seeing a group of my aforementioned homeless army heading towards the drill here.
I found a herd of them making their ways past the first set of fences while I was wandering the outskirts of the camp, doubting my world’s new reality.
My crummy camera phone can’t show it that clearly, but many of them are holding those signs that read, “The end is here! All upworlders will die!” It’s a pretty chilling sight, enough to make the hairs on my neck resume their standing position.
The flickers of reflected light from their AK-47s are blinding, in more ways than one.
Easy
Dear Planet Earth,
I said goodbye to Diana today. I propped her up against a tree and said a few words about her out loud. I wept like a baby. I tried to remember everything she ever said to me, what defined her as a human being and how she became an important part of my life in ten short days.
When she was really starting to go yesterday, Diana said she was a fraud. She said her name wasn’t really Diana Sunday and she was never a student at UNLV. Phyllis O’Conner was just another deadbeat post-teen working at Blockbuster when the tremors started and she realized she could make herself whoever she wanted. She was sorry, she said. She said I didn’t have to blame myself for her death because she never really existed.
But things are never that easy.
I’m heading toward the mysterious object outside the city, just like Diana and I planned to do last week. Judging by the number of cars on the road, I’m not the only one.
The dust is starting to clear around it, showing some very weird features. I don’t know if this is a satellite, an alien spaceship, or even a time machine. I only know that whatever it is, it’s inextricably linked to these crazy phenomena all across the globe and those homeless people were willing to kill to keep us from it.
I checked the back of the Hummer today and found it filled with assault rifles, body armor, hand grenades, and plastic explosives. I’m a grieving, hormone-filled teen with murder on the mind. Those bastards better hope I run out of gas.
On the Road Again, Again
Dear Planet Earth,
It’s really hit the fan now. We escaped the small army of homeless mercenaries, but for how long is anyone’s guess.
I crashed a TV over one of their heads as he came in to deliver our breakfast. He might have died. I don’t know. I’m beyond the point of caring. Diana took out the guy behind him with a lamp. The stench of blood and piss immediately flooded our nostrils. We grabbed a set of keys off my guy and made a beeline for the Hummer in the parking lot.
“Oh, hell no!” a deep, groggy voice said behind us.
Just as we made it to the doors, Guy #2′s back up and shooting at us. I heard Diana scream, but I was too busy fumbling with the keys and trying to remember the two lessons of driver’s ed I took before I decided I could learn more from Grand Theft Auto IV. The windshield started to sprout spider webs from Guy #2′s AK-47 as I threw us in reverse at 80 miles an hour. It’s all a blur of bullets and screaming after that.
I somehow made it back on the highway. As my adrenaline levels returned to their average levels, I was able to see that Diana was indeed in the car with me.
Relief turned to guilt and fear. She was shot, twice in the shoulder. She was bleeding like crazy, gushing so much over her body that I thought she must have been hit somewhere else, too.
“Stop!” I could hear the lethal pangs in her voice. “Pull over.”
I pulled over and she guided me through how to dig out the bullets and make her a tourniquet. She screamed and sobbed and said “thank you.” She said she needed to rest. She’s been asleep for two hours now.
I don’t know what to do.
Hopelessness with a Side of Eggs
Dear Planet Earth,
Still no luck trying to escape from our homeless captors who are inconceivably armed like former disgraced government mercenaries. Diana and I’ve spent countless hours screaming, reassembling our phones, and flooding the Internet with pleas for help. The weird thing is, these people don’t seem to care about our sometimes blatant attempts to flee, as if they know all our effort will only make us more tired and hopeless. They’re even feeding us pretty well with, what I suspect to be, a menu straight from Denny’s.
It’s all very odd; it might even be romantic if there wasn’t that whole problem with the unwillingness and AK-47s. I came to the conclusion that these people don’t want to kill us, and I felt more confident about that this morning when one of them, possibly their leader, came into our motel room with a hearty breakfast.
“How are you doing this morning?” he asked.
Diana shot him the disgusted look she’s grown accustomed to here and said, “Does it matter?”
He laughed and took a slice of orange from her plate. “No, I guess it really doesn’t.”
The man unbolted the door and was about to leave when he turned back to look at me. “Hey, kid,” he said. “Your name’s Scott Panus, right?”
I quickly answered, “Yeah.” Now I wish I had said something biting and snotty like Diana did.
He nodded his head as he left and we could hear the rusty outside lock slide back into place.
I’ve been trying to think about what they could have seen in my backpack with my name on it. I’m coming up with zilch.
Help!
Dear Planet Earth,
Help! SOS! Ayúdame! Avengers Assemble! If anyone out there is actually reading this, this isn’t a joke. Diana and I have been held captive for the past two days by a group of homeless people with AK-47s. I repeat, this is not a joke.
They rammed us off the road with a Hummer — a fucking Hummer — blindfolded us, and brought us to this abandoned motel where we’ve been imprisoned ever since. We were taken about half an hour north of the Strip on the I-15 and they drove another half hour to get here. I can’t find the name of the motel on anything, but outside of the one non-boarded up window I can see an In-N-Out Burger facing a Denny’s.
Please, please, please send any help you can find. As far as I know, the LVMPD is still functioning, though their website — like every other law enforcement agency’s — is completely offline. I’ll try to post again if these guys don’t find my netbook, kill me, or reenact their favorite scenes from Deliverance. I will clarify once more, this is not a joke. Help!
