Dear Planet Earth,
We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when I had the unshakable feeling that our troubles with mole people had just begun.
Ha. I’ve been dying to use that line ever since I knew we’d be driving past infamous Barstow. You have to keep it light around here sometimes.
Anyways, we snuck out of the mall late last night (assuming that the mole men keep their guard down at night). Maria, Rachel, the soldiers, and I had been suggesting for awhile that we stay on the move in the general direction of Fort Kross. The old people were intent on continuing our Cinnabon camp out for as long as we could. It all came down to an anticlimactic vote that only left Randall grumbling. I don’t think Mr. Ozawa speaks English.
There’s been no sign of mole people or huge bats yet, but we’re not looking forward to whatever’s going to greet us in LA. It’s become apparent that they began the invasion by taking out all of our major cities first. I thought the west coast was relatively untouched by everything — last week changed all that.
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.
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?
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.
Dear Planet Earth,
And we’re off. Diana and I are heading outside the city to check out the strange object that appeared after the quake. We scored the keys to a decent pickup (it’s no Ferrari, but beggars can’t be choosers in the pre-post-apocalyptic world), and I even found a new netbook with working broadband wireless capabilities so we can access the Internet on the road. Finding power sources to recharge it might be a problem though.
Something weird happened as we left the Strip. There was a big group of homeless people holding those signs that read, “The end is here! All upworlders will die!”
Diana, who apparently has the bigger cajones between the two of us, pulled over and asked one of them what their message meant. He laughed in our faces. He laughed so hard he started coughing violently, and when he was finished, he smiled with the few teeth he had left and said, “You’ll see, kids. You’ll all see very soon.” When she asked if he or any of the others wanted a ride to see the spaceship, his face quickly changed and he gave us a stern warning not to go anywhere near it. Cue The Twilight Zone music.
Dear Planet Earth,
I took part in my very first looting today. It seemed as good a time as any, what with the whole world under attack from hackers, terrorists, communists, or aliens.
I’ve never stolen anything in my life, and so I figured I might have some reservations about taking part in a massive collective heist. Not so. It turns out, breaking the eighth commandment is incredibly easy to learn, especially when you’re surrounded by hundreds of other rational-minded people focused solely on gathering supplies for their and their loved ones’ basic survival.
The stock at Alberston’s on Flamingo Road was still surprisingly full when I got there. I was able to make out with a hefty supply of oatmeal, Pop-Tarts, and even a copy of my favorite book. I was surprised at how civil and normal the whole scene seemed to me. My fellow looters and I gave each other understanding glances, even made small talk. I was reminded of how screwed up our situation really is when I left the store with my brimming shopping cart and saw this guy shouting some things that would have sounded crazy one month ago:
This in itself isn’t that unusual. Vegas has a significantly high homeless population. What really started The Twilight Zone theme music in my head was when I passed three other homeless people holding signs with the exact same message, “The end is here! All upworlders will die!” They stared at me and smiled sly smiles through gaps of missing teeth.
Needless to say, I didn’t offer them any money.