Tagged: washington
Mole Season
Dear Planet Earth,
We found a couple mole people wandering around a serene stretch of wood defiantly calling itself Seola Park. They were just walking, like two humans on a casual stroll. They clutched their large rifles as though they were carrying something as harmless as groceries. A bright sun, clear sky, and song of sparrows framed the scene.
Private Karter, now Corporal Karter, gave me the binoculars to get a closer look. The glowing red eyes from their masks, at one time a menacing image that implied something demonic, now looked ridiculous — almost comical — from our safe vantage point 200 yards away.
“Be vewy, vewy quiet,” he said behind the lens of an M24 sniper rifle. “I’m hunting mole men. Heh heh heh heh heh.”
I was supposed to be Karter’s spotter, but I have my suspicions that he knew even less than I did about what that meant.
He fired, and the resounding noise forced me to bury my head in my arms. I readjusted myself in time to see one of the mole men down for the count as his comrade darted his head erratically in all directions. Karter opened and closed the barrel, and an empty cartridge landed in the grass beside us. He fired again. I was able to withstand the piercing sound this time and see the lone invader fly a few feet before landing in a puddle of red.
A morbid silence filled the air within seconds. Karter stood up, stretched out his arms and legs, and smiled like he just heard a clever Chuck Norris joke.
“That calls for a beer.”
Humanity or Tyranny
Dear Planet Earth,
We’re expanding our borders. We’re fortifying and refortifying, putting up defenses in the remains of overturned school buses, dusty coffee houses, and scorched dog parks. We’re spray painting messages on cars at the edge of the city that read “BRING IT ON” and “HUMANITY OR TYRANNY.” We’re calling this ever-growing enclave of liberty New Seattle.
There’s talk of making a flag or a new form of currency. Some people want to have an election to counter the military’s possibly overbearing influence.
Again, I feel like I’m a part of something bigger than myself. I’m more than just a 21st century teenager with more luck than skill. I’m more than just a dystopic survivor who can count his victories on one hand. I — like the hundreds of other dedicated individuals working beside me — am a human, one of the most durable and resilient creatures to ever walk this planet.
Mole people, bring it on.
Hunky-Dory Steampunk Story
Dear Planet Earth,
We’ve been hopping from place to place around the city all week. We kept expecting the mole people to return for a counterattack, drill snakes and steampunk guns in tow. It’s now undeniably apparent they’re not coming, either out of fear or condescending disinterest.
They have a right to be scared. We’ve fortified every inch of downtown Seattle and trained dozens of new rebels how to use some serious weapons. Oh, we’ve started calling ourselves “rebels,” too.
I helped raid a firehouse yesterday to get those flames around the Space Needle under control. We did a pretty good job considering our only training came from playing fireman in preschool. The CDC guys contained the remains of the drill snake I epically pwned, which makes for a pretty eerie picture.
Despite how hunk-dory things seem now, a lot of us are actually itching for the mole men to bring it on. Dr. Eimer compared our zeal for battle to the “geopolitical climate prior to World War I.” I think most of us rebels are imagining Star Wars IV.
Battle in Seattle
Dear Planet Earth,
That was a long enough nap. Greetings from Seattle! Wish you were here. Unless you’re a mole man, in which case, you know, screw you.
We raided two other slave labor camps on the way up here. It was exhilarating to be one of the actual liberators this time around, though I’ll leave out the long paragraphs about strategy that you would only skim over and the mole people would likely exploit.
I will say that our latest score of high-tech rocket launchers may have something to do with our success. We found them among the remains of Fort Kross and they’re officially called “SMAWs,” or “Shoulder Mounted Ass Wipers.” Don’t quote me on that.
When we prepared to drive the mole men out of this city, General Talpa finally trusted me enough to aid the missile squad. I loaded up the rounds for Lieutenant Stoya and watched their gargantuan drill snake shudder from the impacts. Those ominous-looking saw blades were completely destroyed, and it looked like victory was near.
Then the metal monster started firing a small Gatling gun that popped out from underneath. Stoya took a hit in the shoulder (he’s fine now), and the SMAW went down with him. Maybe he screamed or told me to retreat or to try and ice the sucker myself — I don’t know, I had lost all hearing hours ago. I do know that something else took hold of me then. Some kind of calm, innate spirit within me pushed everything else to the side and just focused on picking up that rocket launcher and icing the sucker myself.
It looked just like this . . .
. . . but 1,000 times more badass.
Alive
Dear Planet Earth,
Yay! I’m alive! I don’t want to go into exactly who killed what mole man at which slave labor camp now, but be assured, I’m alive and I’m a total badass. I’ve been running on fumes for days, but my badassery remains intact.
Guess where we’re at right now.
Seattle. We’re in Seattle, Washington.
I’m going to pass out for the next eighteen hours.
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.
Whispers
Dear Planet Earth,
New York City is gone. Washington, D.C. is gone. Miami is gone.
The whispers I’m hearing from an assortment of soldiers (originally stationed all over the country) paint the stark picture that this is exactly what we’ve feared all along — an invasion. Our planet is at war and we’re losing. Badly.
Every major military installation on the East Coast was obliterated shortly after one of those so-called “drills” made an appearance. Some of the men I spoke to who were there said the attacks came from small, controlled tremors while others just remembered seeing explosions everywhere. Some chose not to remember.
Whatever happened (or whatever’s about to happen) I’m just happy to be alive, out of custody, and no longer on the terrorist watch list. I’m free to leave whenever now that I gave my full debrief to General Talpa and convinced him that I’m not a member of the body snatchers.
The truth is, I have nowhere left to go, no one waiting for me. And if this drill is going to be the source of the end of the world, I’m saving myself a front row seat.
Beneath Average 