Dear Planet Earth,
The power’s finally back online. I know I promised to make a comprehensive timeline of all the crazy things that have been happening since October, but I swear I have a good excuse:
Roberts took this picture for me of the burning ambulance now decorating the front of our hospital-turned-battlefield. The mole people attacked early Monday morning, just as the rising sun was at its most inspiring and tranquil point.
There was only about a dozen of them, which is probably why we’re still alive. They started shooting their crazy guns at our unmanned tanks, and that screeching, piercing sound jolted me — and presumably every other human within five miles — out of peaceful slumber. The adrenaline got me out of bed and over the windowsill.
I could see our boys returning fire with their comparatively primitive rifles, and a few of them even made it to the tanks. The entire parking lot was a smoking, thundering haze within five minutes. The bastards finally retreated when they saw their battle was lost and we chased them back for about three klicks. (I learned today that a “klick” is a kilometer, and you have to wonder how our military came to adopt that without using the metric system.)
The hospital is missing some windows and — like I said — the power was out, but we somehow survived without any fatalities. Three soldiers have some serious injuries; luckily they were already living in a hospital.
The small scale of the attack has General Talpa convinced that this was only a group of scouts, and that we have to move everyone out right now before the full wave comes. The doctors are saying that’s impossible without sacrificing the lives of some patients, and now there’s some serious politics going on here.