Tagged: hospital

Third Wheel

Dear Planet Earth,

The top floors of the hotel have been turned into a makeshift medical wing, tending to the many injuries from our last epic battle. No one’s talking about it yet, but a lot of the liberated slaves here seem to be suffering from malnutrition, and their conditions will only worsen as everyone’s rations continue to get smaller and smaller. Deja vu.

I found Karter and Maria up there today. They were in a corner, engaged in what looked like a serious conversation until I butt in. Maria gave me a hug and asked if I was feeling okay. It was the nicest she’s ever been to me. They both looked about five years older than they were just a few months ago, covered in new wrinkles, scars, and sunburns from their brief bondage. I felt guilty as hell again and couldn’t think of anything to say.

They said I should stop by their room tonight — apparently they’re sharing a room now — to talk about what’s going on in our heads after all that’s happened. I might just take them up on that.

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Jitters

Dear Planet Earth,

We’ve been truckin’ nonstop for the past fourteen hours. It’s a real effort to try to type on these bumpy “roads” so this is as much as I’ll try. Someone just yelled that we’re being followed by mole men as if that was great news. A small part of me wishes I was back home, which I now associate with St. Mark’s hospital, which is where our enemies will go if they don’t keep stalking us.

There’s the ol’ girl from this morning. I’m feeling either nostalgia or motion sickness.

The Skull and the Heart

Dear Planet Earth,

We’re packed up in Jeeps, ready to act as a diversion for murderous mole men, I’m using a cane surprisingly well considering it’s my first time, and I think I was offered a sponge bath by Dr. Brooke, but by far, the most interesting part of my day was the conversation I just had with a seven year old boy.

An older woman here, I think Nancy or Ashley is her name, warned me ahead of time that I’d get a visit from my mysterious skull thief. He came up to me just as I was about to take a much needed seat in the back of one of the trucks (I never realized how hard it is just to stand sometimes).

“Hello,” I said, shocked and a little frightened of the scowl across the boy’s face. “Or ‘hola.'”

He thrust the contentious skull towards me. I could see layers of ash caking his small fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

The soldiers around us lifted crates onto the vehicles, the civilians cried goodbyes to the friends and relatives they were leaving at the hospital. Somewhere, maybe only a few miles away, an army of subterranean invaders were on their way to kill us all.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Marco.”

I searched the boy’s face, his unkempt hair, his faded Superman shirt, for something, anything that said more than “Marco.”

“Why’d you take it?”

He shrugged his shoulders, and his scowl began to fade as he blinked a few times rapidly. He hung his head, but the arm and skull remained outstretched.

“You can hold on to it for now. You’re coming with us, right?”

Marco nodded, spun around, and made a beeline for the truck with Nancy or Ashley.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I said.

Checking Out

Dear Planet Earth,

The political bickering is over. General Talpa and the doctors here came to an agreement.

The hospital staff will stay here with the patients who are still too ill to move. Hopefully, that doesn’t include me, and hopefully I won’t need to have an apple thrown at my leg to prove it. The troops and the rest of the able-bodied civilians, many of whom are now unofficially part of humanity’s most important resistance, will head out tomorrow and try to draw the attention away from the approaching force of mole people.

It’s a Hail Mary move if I ever saw one, but boy will I be glad to finally be out of here, fighting on the front lines instead of sitting in a smelly hospital bed with a target on my head. I just need Dr. Brooke to believe I can actually walk faster than a blindfolded Steven Hawking.

The Timeline

Dear Planet Earth,

Here it is — the official timeline of events from October 7 to right now. It’s a little long and chaotic, but I guess that just fits the theme of everything lately. I tried to make it as detailed as possible without focusing too much on me, but there’s still so little we know about the events that have been happening outside of Nevada. Please add any other information you might have in the comments below.

October 7, 2011 — The first major earthquakes occur in Uganda. We know now these quakes were caused by the enormous drills making their long treks up to the surface.

October 16, 2011 — The mole people hack the entirety of cyberspace for the first time with a message that initially looked like gibberish using Cyrillic characters. The loss of communication with Uganda planted the first seeds of worldwide panic.

October 20, 2011 — CNN sends in an army of reporters to document the situation in Uganda. The video stream abruptly ends the next day after images of explosions flood the screens, presumably from the mole men’s first attack on humanity.

October 23, 2011 — Another hack and another message arrive. This message, typed with Korean characters, heralded the beginning of the media blackout that continues to this day.

October 26, 2011 — The earthquakes begin in Las Vegas. It takes a full six days for them to stop and reveal their source — another drill.

November 1, 2011 — Twitter and YouTube come back online with limited functionality. Although the tremors have stopped, they’ve caused irreparable damage to the people and infrastructure of the entire country.

November 5, 2011 — The mole men release their first message with English characters. They demand utter subservience as our future masters, claiming we’ve ruined our chance of ruling the upper crust by destroying the environment.

November 11, 2011 — New York City is swiftly attacked and defeated by the mole people.

November 12, 2011 — I am kidnapped by a group of heavily armed homeless people. It is now thought that the homeless have been secret spies for the mole people for countless generations.

November 15, 2011 — Miami and Washington, D.C. are both attacked and defeated by the mole people.

November 22, 2011 — I am arrested and interrogated by an army battalion under the command of General Talpa. They release me after determining I’m not a threat, though I’m told my name was among thousands being broadcast by the drills.

December 6, 2011 — Atlanta is attacked and defeated by the mole people.

December 7, 2011 — A large group of homeless people begin to gather around the Las Vegas drill. Chicago is attacked and defeated by the mole people.

December 18, 2011 — I make contact with a homeless woman who makes me think I’m more connected to the enemy than I’d like.

December 21, 2011 — The Las Vegas drill begins to vibrate and open. The mole men attack and our battalion is forced to retreat the city. This was the first time we actually had a face and a name for our enemy (which I coined).

December 25, 2011 — General Talpa’s remaining troops regroup with another battalion just outside the Clark County basin.

December 29, 2011 — We continue west, but are ambushed by mole people near a public high school. A number of civilians taking refuge in the high school flee with us toward Creech Air Force Base.

December 30, 2011 — We arrive at Creech Air Force Base, but it is already in shambles. Our battalion plans a major offensive against an approaching force of mole people.

January 1, 2012 — Our forces are severely beaten in battle and forced to retreat. I am shot in the leg by a strange weapon that seems to have no bullets.

January 4, 2012 — Phoenix is attacked and defeated by the mole people.

January 10, 2012 — We arrive at St. Mark’s Hospital to regroup and treat our wounded, me among them.

January 13, 2012 — General Talpa’s battalion heads out once again to look for survivors and build a resistance.

January 25, 2012 — The troops raid a camp of mole men and secure the first known victory against them.

February 8, 2012 — The hospital is attacked by a small group of mole men shortly after the troops return.

Arriba, Arriba

Dear Planet Earth,

If I didn’t feel like enough of a baby-like invalid before, learning how to walk definitely sealed the deal.

I started my physical therapy today with Dr. Brooke, who as it turns out, isn’t even a doctor. No joke, he dropped out of medical school halfway through to start a chain of Mexican restaurants with his brother. But that’s a rant for another day.

He’s had me walking up and down the hallway for the past five hours. I’d tell you that I’m moving at a snail’s pace, but that would be offensive to decent snails everywhere. However, my unfathomably slow gait still makes me feel like I’m running a marathon. With pins in my leg. With Tabasco sauce marinating those pins.

To make matters worse, they’re cutting back on my painkillers now, too. If only I could summon some of that adrenaline from yesterday, I know I’d be the unholy love child of Usain Bolt and Speedy Gonzales.

One Klick To Chaos

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.