Drifters

John's Log 1
Home-Line Invasion 1

Well, Steve finally talked me into keeping one of these. I’ve never been one for writing much, but what the hell? He is right about one thing at least, soldiers in the past kept journals for the generations that followed. Who knows? Maybe those that’ll follow us can learn something from what we write.

Where to begin? I guess I-Night’s the best place to begin. We’d gotten together for our weekly game night, this time at Pete’s. Man, that was a year ago; seems more like ten. At some point we’d gotten the message that the shit had hit the fan. As it turned out – as you already know – we’d been invaded by aliens. And by ‘us’ I meant the world, not just the US. That first night is still etched in my mind, probably will be for quite a time to come. I won’t bore you with all the details, just suffice it to say we got by with a little bit of fighting and a whole lot of luck.

Over the past year we spent a lot of our time hinding from the invaders. The short ones Steve started calling ‘fins’ due to the thing on the back of the suit they all seem to wear. We’d found out on that first night that they don’t breathe our atmosphere; instead they need methane. (Steve’s the one that made that particular discovery, and he looked surprised about it for a couple of weeks, until his eyebrows grew back in).

The ‘skinnies’ are the one with those force-shields. Those things are just plain nasty, both in a fight and out of one. These fuckers like to eat our dead, and when they can’t get that I’ve seen them gut and eat a fin. No one left behind takes on a whole new level of meeting when dealing with these guys.

The ‘bugs’ showed up later. Called that because of their appearance, these things are fast and skittery, plus they fly. Hitting one on the move is near-impossible, at least for me, but you rarely find them sitting still. The dinks (that’s the generic term for the invaders; don’t know where that came from) like to use these in paratrooper fashion, and for quick strike-and-move engagements. More often then not they’ll lead you into a skinny ambush, so caution needs to be taken at all times when chasing them.

Anyway, so a year later we’d eventually joined up with the 3rd Pennsylvania Militia. Powers is a decent enough leader, and I’m glad we have Lane and the rest of the Marines. Me and Steve wound up in Washington’s squad – Steve’s always butting heads with the Corporal, but I think Steve does give him the credit he deserves. It’s just that the Corporal’s a professional soldier and doesn’t appreciate being saddled with command over a bunch of civilian militia. But as long as you follow orders and act like a soldier, he’s easy enough to get along with, plus he takes care of his soldiers. I got no beef with him.

Our latest mission is to find a recon squad that went missing, including Pete and Corey. Steve had heard about it and wanted to volunteer right away (he was obviously forgetting the first rule in the Army, namely ‘never volunteer’). I gave him a hard time about it but was of course ready to go (again, never leave anyone behind). It tokk a day, but eventuall we were given the go-ahead and set out with two other guys, Conners and Myers. They’re two good guys, if a little young. Conners is a jock, Myers a geek, but both have been fighting the dinks with us for a good six months and I trust ’em to have my back.

The mission was to get into York and locate the missing squad. The first night we’d bedded down at an abandoned Amish farm. The owners were gone, but they’d left some preserves behind – that was like finding gold! We’d missed check-in that night but as it turned out none of that mattered, since we’d forgotten to requisition a field radio, and we’d already marched further than the radios we did have had range. Chances were, that’s what happened to the guys we were looking for too.

When we got into the city, dink presence was more and more prevalent. At some point, Steve was checking the radio and happened to make contact with Corey. Corey was bottled up at the mall we were near, but the fins and skinnies in the area were busy looking for him. We started moving toward his location while keeping an eye out for dinks. Good thing, too, since we ran into a squad of ’em sitting on an intersection with one of those emplaced guns they use. One quick ambush and 7 dead dinks later, we were back on our way to help Corey.

We got to the edge of the parking lot surrounding the mall, only to discover Corey running as fast as he could with a pack of fins on his ass. A banshee tried to strafe him, but Steve took that out with his M21, which also scared the fins into retreating. Those guys are rough when their morale is up, but if you can shake it they tend to turn tail in a hurry – unless they got leadership with ’em.

Corey reported that his squad had been captured, but he’d managed to escape and was trying to get back to the 3rd when he was cornered in the mall. We had two choices: report back and get more backup, or continue on and do what we could. Going back just meant the likelihood of Pete and the others dying got bigger so we chose to move on. We hit a comic store to keep Myers from bitchin’, and then spent the night at a church in town. A priest was still in residence there, Father ‘Bob’, and he told us there were some survivors in the area. The dinks didn’t bother ‘em much, so long as they kept their heads down. Doesn’t sound right to me, but I’ve been killing dinks for so long now I can’t imagine them living in peace with anyone.

The next day, we headed back to the mall to see if the shooting Corey’d heard while he was in there happened to be someone from his squad. It wasn’t. Turned out to be a young woman, Jessica; a survivor armed with a shotgun who was looking for her father. That meant she needed to get further west if her information regarding his whereabouts was accurate, but she decided (for better or worse) to hook up with us in the meantime, at least until we could get her back to the 3rd where she might be able to get some help. Until then, she’s willing to help us find our people, and she’s handy with her gun. And we can always use more help.

As I write this journal down, we’re sitting on a ridge overlooking a dink ship – not one of the mother ships, but big enough to carry a shitload of dinks. The squad we’re looking for is supposed to be inside. Now all we gotta do is figure out a way in, how to find the missing squad, and how to get out again without dying.

In other words, we’re fucked.

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Steve's Log 3

We’re our own dragons as well as our own heroes, and we have to rescue ourselves from ourselves.
Tom Robbins

Word came down that the recon patrol Corey, Pete, and two others were out on, was missing. I asked around and found out they had been sent into York and vanished. According to Masters we need to start moving towards Philly and York is along the way. The guys were looking for a place to move the group that is safe. Perhaps a mall or government building or church. We got alot of people and no safe way to move. Masters thinks we need to get to Philly and use the stadium for a base. I am not sure I agree with him but he is a spook and maybe he knows something we don’t.

I volunteered to go rescue the team and John, Connors, and Myers agreed to go with me. John asked why I didn’t ask Cole and all I could say was that I am scared for her safety. I know we are going into a fight and I would be devastated if she got shot.

Thirty miles and two days later the rescue team made the outskirts of York. I started trying the HT Radio and after a while got through to Corey. He was holed up inside of Dicks and surrounded by fins. While we were talking someone started a firefight in another part of the mall. I told Corey to check it out but to stay hidden. I ordered the team to move out double time but John balked at this and gave a good argument against it. As a compromise I suggested an Airborne shuffle and we moved out. A few blocks from the mall we encountered a road block. Dinks had a fixed gun emplacement set up and about eight or so fins and skinnies were on watch. We split up. John and Myers took one of my grenades and moved in for CQC. I took Connors and we moved in to about eighty yards and then we got to the roof. When we saw the grenade go off we opened fire. I peeled the head off of a skinny and nailed a fin but he managed to stagger around the corner of a building. A second explosion went off as a fin dropped a grenade and the fight was over. We regrouped and moved out.

As we climber the hill to the parking lot of the mall, we heard two gun shots. We dropped prone on the hill top and looked towards the sound. We saw Corey running full tilt with a dozen or more fins behind him. I got on the radio and started yelling at Corey to let him know where we were and Connors stood up and started waving his arms as he ran towards Corey giving him some direction. It was then that John saw the Banshee flying our way. It was still out about 500 yards and closing fast. It looked like it was setting up for a strafing run and Corey wasn’t going to make it to us.

I raised the m21 and took aim. John dropped to a knee and offer his shoulder as a brace. 300, 200, 100. At 100 Yards I fired and so did the Banshee. I think my shot went off a split second before his and as his guns lit up he dive bombed into the parking lot and exploded. The fins turned and ran back into the mall.

We retreated quickly heading to a comic store about half a mile to the East. John and me went to that store often back in the day. Now it was partially blasted. The pane glass windows were busted and the roof had a small hole in it. Myers and Corey looked like they were having a wet dream. They both ran inside and started tearing into boxes of comics and game dice. I grabbed a Bat’leth off of the wall and teased them a bit before handing it to Corey. That fraker looked like he had creamed his pants. Connors was bitching about how we were going to die and something about us being a bunch of geeks. I laughed and took a copy of Expedition to Castle Ravenloft that John handed me. I figured I could run the adventure when we got back to camp.

We needed a place to search for the others and we needed to grill Corey about where they were. He told us they had been captured but we all know the enemy doesn’t capture us, they kill us. It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t remember where the ambushers hit them and all he could say was that he ran and hid. I was a little miffed with him but he is my friend and I am well aware of his shortcomings.

Before we left on this mission, Masters gave me a secret side job to perform. He wanted me to pick up a ring from some church in the City of York. I knew the place and figured why not but he demanded secrecy. I played along as it is always good to have the spook on your side. Now I remembered and told the guys that I knew a place we could hole up for the night and get some sleep. I took them to the Church of St John.

The Church was located in a spot that had been missed completely by all of the bombs. The neighborhoods around the church were demolished but the church looked untouched. I was feeling the hairs on my neck raising. When the doors opened and a priest answered, I nearly shot him. Ever the diplomat I spoke to him with the respect and reverence that can only be shown by one who is a Catholic. Though I don’t practice any more I know the proper way to act. He invited us in and offered us a place to sleep. He said he didn’t have food to offer so me and John pulled out Rhubarb preserves and pickles and offered them to him. He was very thankful.

After we settled in a bunch of us asked for confession and then we settled in to sleep. I snuck off and found Father Bob and laid on the BS thick. I told him about my mission for God. I told him that I was having visions and reams of a ring and that I didn’t understand them but knew this is where I would find it. I told him of a great battle and an arena and so much other BS I can’t even remember. Well Bob seemed like he was waiting for someone to lay this load of crap on him and he took a chain with a ring off of his neck and handed them to me. I really don’t know what to say beyond the fact that I am good. So fraking good that I could probably sell an Eskimo a block of ice on a winter day. Father Bob told me that the ring was entrusted to him and that he hoped it would help end this war. I put the chain on my neck without even really looking at it but I was able to see that it was some kind of Signet ring. Maybe it belonged to the Pope.

In the morning we were all well rested and some old fat woman served us eggs and bacon and grits and sausage and pancakes and coffee. We were in heaven. Then Father Bob asked us to leave and we did. I don’t know why I haven’t told John and Corey about the ring. Maybe I will but for now I feel the need to keep it quiet.

After discussing the options we decided to return to the mall. When we got there the Dinks were all gone and the place seemed empty. We started gathering supplies and even found a few shotguns that we are going to return to the camp. Then we hear a shot. We approached with caution and found a young woman and a few dead Dinks of different species. After some mistrustful words we came to an accord and the woman, whose name is Jessica Tempus, is now going to join us when we head back to camp. She is trying to get to Gettysburg to find her father, a famous scientist names, Frederick Tempus. I never heard of him.

Now is where this story gets derailed and crazy. We heard a noise and took up defensive positions. Then a voice out of the darkness, “Hello”. I engaged the voice in conversation and discovered it was an older Brit with a young black girl. She was hot but I tried not to get distracted. He showed me ID identifying himself as a member of the 3rd Penn Militia. MY sphincter squeezed so tight that I nearly shot the fucker. I demanded to see the ID again and for some reason, though I distrusted the guy, I couldn’t help but trust the ID. It was insane and yet there I was talking to the guy like he was an old friend. He demonstrated an alien devise that told him where our friends might be. We talked for a while about odd things and he started asking about where the beach was and we realized that he thought he was in Venice Beach. The he started asking about the year. Then he seemed to get it and became very grave looking. It was about this time that the girl started grilling Corey about Klingons and his Bat’leth. I caught her name as being Martha but nothing more. I decided to try the old silver tongue again and stepped in real close to the guy and demanded his help. He suddenly seemed to recognize me and he pointed to Jessica and told me to protect her at all cost. She was the key to saving the world. He then said “Cheerio” and him and the girl walked off into darkness. When we heard the tell tale classic sound of a TARDIS in motion the arguments began.

Now I know that couldn’t have been the Doctor but WHO was he and how did he know what he knew. I really think I am going insane but if I am, I can tale solace in the fact that John and Corey and Myers all agreed that the dude was in fact THE DOCTOR which of course he couldn’t be. We agreed as a team to omit this encounter from any official reports.

Now we are heading off to check out the place 2.5km to the east where The Doctor told us to go. Does this sound crazy to you? It sure feels crazy to me.

The Streets of York PA

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Steve's log 2

“We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of inspiration and survival.”
Winston Churchill

A year has gone by since my last entry. I guess I should have kept the battery charged on the IPad but I have been too busy to worry about that. After I-Day we spent several weeks on the run. Fighting when we had to and hiding more than anything. John proved that his Army training was still good but with him and Corey, we had issues when we had to move fast. Their weight got in the way and slowed us down. Jack and Zeus hit it off and I think the kid may have stolen my dog from me as I rarely see the dog anymore and when I do it is when Jack is around. The kids proved to be a better asset to our group than I would have given credit. He took to the guns like a natural and he seems to have no compunction about killing aliens. I like him and hope that he survives this war.

We eventually hooked up with some Army personnel down near the 5th Regiment Armory. I knew Command Sergeant Major Grimm, an old friend of the family, and he got us hooked up with a group of survivors that wanted to fight. We were not accepted right away but after seventeen missions they seem to have accepted me. The only real problem is Corporal Washington. He is one of the Marines attached to our group and he really dislikes everyone who isn’t a Marine. The real problem is I keep going on mission with him and my style of craziness does not mesh with his Marine orders.

We have mainly been hitting the Fins and the Skinnies but every now and then we run into some other alien life form. Their energy weapons work real good against them but I still prefer my .357 revolver and a good longarm. I took an M21 rifle off of a dead soldier and that is my gun of choice in this crappy war. I have to assume my grandkids and wife are dead. My old neighborhood was blasted and there was no sign of my mother or sister but there is always the chance that Dad got them out of there. If he did, then they will be up on Iron Mountain and holed up with the hill people. I have given up looking for those who may or may not be alive. Survival is all that matters now. Survival and vengeance against these alien pieces of shit.

Steve's M21 Steve's S&W 686 w/ Crimson Trace Laser Sight

Zecharia Sitchin always said that the Anunnaki would return in 2013. I guess he was right. These aliens might not go by that name or they might, we may never know. Whatever the case, he was dead on about an alien invasion in 2013. I need to rub that in Pete’s face when we have a chance to relax. We are getting ready to move out again so I need to cut this short. If anyone reads this journal, then know this. We will win because we are human and American. I understand the concept of surrender and I spit on any who would say, “Lets surrender, give peace a chance.” Fuck those bastards. Say something like that to me in a place with no witnesses and I guarantee you won’t walk out of that place again. Hopefully I will be able to keep up with the journal now that I am getting a routine.

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Steve's log 1

“Nations sometimes flourish by denying the crimes that brought them into being. Only when the original invasion, occupation, extermination or usurpation has been safely thrust into the political unconscious can sovereignty feel secure.” ~Terry Eagleton

We were gaming at Pete;s house when I got the call from my wife. Leslie told me to go look at the TV. I asked why and she said, “We’re under attack!” Pete, John, Corey, and me all went down to Pete’s basement and turned to CNN. We saw Washington DC was being destroyed by what looked like blasts of lightning. The reporter was telling us to stay in our homes. Well fuck that.

We went into motion, Pete started scrambling to find us his meager gun collection while me and Corey raided the kitchen cabinets for food, water, soda, knives, can openers, etc. Pete handed me a pistol and a rifle and I loaded the rifle and gave it to John. John has at least a little bit of training from the Army. Some people banged on the front door and Pete ran them off. Then my truck got blasted and all that was left was a small crater. We talked it over and decided to make a run, the 30 miles to my house.

My house was build in 1766 and is made of 30" stone walls. It can withstand a significant blast and will stop most bullets. It is a literal fortress, plus I am a prepper and was ready for this day to come. We decided to take two cars, in case one got taken out. I hopped in my Pete while John ran around busting out the tail lights. We were going to do this in darkness and we would run without lights to keep from being a target. It was then that some asshole jumped in front of the car and begged us to take him. I popped a shot past his head and said, “NO” but he had a kid and a pretty wife and Pete gave in. They piled into the car and away we went. I led them across the back country roads until we got to Fallston. There we ran into some Army boys and they waved us by.

As I looked to the sky I noticed the huge space ship hovering miles away from us. It was terrifying. We kept trucking and finally hit a point near Jarrettsville, where a big rig was jack knifed across the road. I hopped out to investigate and some little fucker started shooting at me. Now when I say little I mean he was like 4’ tall and blue and not human. When I say shooting, well he was using a ray gun of some sort. I dove for cover behind Pete’s car and a blast took the rear corner panel off. I then popped up and shot the bastard in the chest. He grunted and fired back. I saw he had armor, changed my point of aim to his head and BAM he was falling over dead. Fuck that alien piece of shit. I looted him and the guys all came to see. Pete took a grenade off the dude’s belt and I tossed the raygun to John. The blue dude was wearing some kind of breathing mask and heavy armor. I got the rig started and pulled it aside. We were back on our way.

The Blue Alien

Seven miles later we saw a burning pickup and as we blasted by we then saw the blue lights up ahead. I popped the skylight open and Pete handed me the big gun, his .357 magnum. I told him to floor it and don’t stop. He did as told but hit a slick patch and lost control just as we saw half a dozen of those fuckers leveling guns at us. I remembered the grenade and took a pock shot for one on the belt of an alien. The horseshoes I got lodged up my ass pinged in delight and I nailed the little bugger. The explosion was spectacular. Had I seen the shot in a movie I would have screamed, “NO WAY!!!” but I just pulled it off.

Eventually we made it to the house and I broke out the prepping gear. We had weapons, food, clothes, and everything we might need. I forgot to mention the guy we rescued got hit during one of the fights and was dead. So now we were stuck a with a woman and a seven year old kid. I was not happy.

Maybe half an hour later we saw aliens landing by the creek. A half a dozen were headed to the house. I set Pete and Corey and the chick with rifles on the second floor and John stayed with one on the first. I slipped out the back with a 30-30 and a spotlight. The plan was that I would distract and the guys would then nail them with everything they had. It worked but not as expected.

50,000 candlepower is some bright shit and I hit the aliens with the spot light and lit up the night. They opened fire on me as I heard a barrage of gun shots erupt from the house. I ducked behind a tree and could hear the shots nailing the tree. I cut the light and ran. Somewhere in the dark I tripped over an animal and it bit me. Turns out it was my dog. Now where the hell was he all night? We made short work of the aliens and decided to have a little alien autopsy. The skinny alien has organs like us. They are located in different spots but now we knew where the lungs and heart are located. I told everyone this is the target zone. and we got it clear and good.

The Skinny Alien

The next alien was encased in that armor. He was like the one that I shot on the road. I got a reciprocal saw and started cutting. There was some sparks and BOOM!!!! The fraker exploded. I got singed good but nothing serious. scared me more than anything. It was then that I noticed the woman wasn’t around and her kid was following me. Turns out that she got wasted during the ambush. Great.

Well now our location was at risk, we made some hasty decisions. Rest a little and then pack and move. We need to see if we can rescue family but I think Baltimore and York are probably fried like DC. What the hell am I going to do. Maybe I should just shoot the kid and save him this hardship. I just don’t know. I do know this. I will fight. I will fight. I will fucking fight!

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