When They Came

[Q. G. Pennyworth]

The bombs looked like toys. Shiny plastic, two-toned footballs with little fins. When they started coming I got it away from my son, but there was a black mother playing with her two sons outside and she didn't know. I couldn't stop her, just yelled and grabbed the younger boy away from the blast. He didn't scream or cry, just asked me if his family was dead. He couldn't have been more than four years old. I told him I didn't know, but we had to run. I grabbed his hand and my son's and we ran into a nearby building.

One of Them came in through the other doorway. The lights were out, and I could barely see it in the darkness, but I grabbed its impossibly skinny body and snapped it like a stick. We ran into another room, and I had to kill another one. A third followed us, but when I picked it up it was fat and smiling, like a doll. Dark green ET face smiling up at me. I almost hesitated too long, but I came to my senses and snapped the head off. Plastic. I threw the bomb out the window before it went off in my hand.

Later, I saw the parents of the kid I'd rescued. The mother had bloodshot eyes and a drugged smile, obviously a post-op. The father had just been programmed, you could tell when he managed to override it for a second, his eyes went from solid black to brown, but they flickered right back again. The two of them were pushing a stroller with their two "children" in it. They hadn't even bothered waiting for the boy to die before they replaced him.

We ran through the neon-lit streets.

[Murmur]

 

Here's a picture for you...feel free to steal! 

[Q. G. Pennyworth]

OMG SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Okay to use that in other projects?

[Richter]

 

Taking this a specific way, or can anyone jump in?

[Q. G. Pennyworth]

Taking this a specific way, or can anyone jump in?

No shit, this was just a dream I had this morning. Interrupted REM cycles suck donkey balls.

I'd love to see where folks go with it, the only thing I'd like to clarify first is that I understated the "impossibly skinny" there. Think animated stick figures, maybe two inches around on the torso and maybe 4-5 feet tall, with the obligatory bobble heads. Other than that, go nuts!

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Oooo, creepy!

[Richter]

The sonic boom woke me up.  It couldn't have been 3 in the morning yet, but things were ..wrong.  Like the sky being a uniform red.  Like a blizzard in a city, sky tinged pink by light pollution, but this was darker.  Low cloud cover over everything.  People told me about seeing the ships at first, hanging higher than the clouds, but I never caught sight, or never even focused.  Something was wrong with ME too.  I was up and out of bed before I realized, dashing in my underwear towards the door.  I was yelling, ranting berserk.

Outside were the grays.  The ET's.  Whatever you want to call them.  Stretched pale things off the cover of "Communion", "The X-Files", or every other "alien abduction" story.  Part of my had always written them off as a figment of human imagination.  Some night terror archetype.  I could see them through the window and the rage only sank in.  Walking along with comically long steps, exaggerated balancing motions with their arms like they were imitating DJ's.  I was through the door laying into them, doing exactly what I still don't know.

I woke up in the early pale dawn still on the grass, surrounded by their bodies.  Ever have a real fight or flight adrenaline kick?  It SUCKS after.  You're tapped, body and mind.  The grays seem to be the trigger too.  I see them I go seriously agro.  Foudn out later I'm not alone in that.  Half the neighborhood was huddled inside, refused to leave their houses.  Only a few would approach the bodies.  Most wouldn't even look.  Also wondered if I'd caused some sort of interstellar killing spree, but the news that trickled in confirmed that wrong later.

[Q. G. Pennyworth]

The description of the sky there is spot fucking on!

[Richter]

Dream material from a few years ago, if you'd believe.

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

Everything went colly-wobbles and I ran for the hills. Literally. The hills around my house are normally filled with all sorts of wildlife but now even the trees seemed to be trying to get away. I climbed my favorite tree, an oak older than the town, and laid my body along a sturdy limb.

The family house and fields are tucked in a valley between three folds of hills and a stream. Pretty out of the way unless you're looking for it. But from the tree I can see the town. Or what's left of it.

Sizzling beams from the sky roamed the streets, vaporizing whatever lay in the way. I couldn't hear anything but I could see people running and flailing like overly dramatic cartoons.

I always have a tiny radio in my pocket, for weather alerts in case I'm hiking in the mountains or out in the fields, so I listened to that, waiting for something. Anything except for hissing static.

The . . . things were too slender to cast shadows. They moved oddly, as if they had joints in the wrong places that bent the wrong way.

Figuring there wasn't anything I could do for the townfolk, I watched and waited. Guts quivering like they'd become restless goldfish in a too-small bowl.

[Q. G. Pennyworth]

We all smile now, all the time. If you're not smiling, They might notice that you haven't gone through the programming. It's hard, spending time with the ones who've been modified, but shunning them would be just as bad as running down the street throwing hand grenades. Some people say that their eyes turn black when they're filming for Them. You can't be too careful.

When I smile I'm thinking of that night, and the crunch of exoskeletons.

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

I almost fell out of my tree. That's how I found them.

I'd fallen asleep, clutching my radio. But I woke up fast enough when it began to spit and screech at me. Forgetting where I was, I let go of the snarling box and tried to roll over. And just barely caught myself on the next branch down. It scared me awake so completely, I realized the tiny radio wasn't the only thing making obscene noises in my general direction.

Below the tree, a cluster of creepy twiggy things stared up at me with round moon eyes and pointing fingers. I imagine they were trying to figure out why I was in the tree. One spoke to me. For some reason, that just plain pissed me right the fuck off.

So I jumped out of the tree and landed on half of them. Twiggy indeed, they snapped like trees gone dead-root in a drought. Some tried to run but I chased them down, twisting and stomping like an enraged bull finally getting his own back against those god damn rodeo clowns.

I'd woken up into twilight but it was full dark before I finished burying the bodies under the old compost heap behind the chicken coop. The soil there needed a good turning anyway. Refilled the chickens' automatic feeder and water bowls, while I was out there.

It was clear that it wasn't safe on the farm anymore but I didn't know where to go. So I just packed some stuff, like I was going on one of my dad's month-long survivalist-meets-the-mountain trips and took off into the hills. There had to be someone who knew what was going on somewhere. And it was my plan to find them before more of the twiggy devils found me.

[Q. G. Pennyworth]

You don't see Them out like that any more. They must have learned after that first night, because now They only come out wearing their suits. I hear stories that you can knock Them over even in the suit with a solid hip check, but then I remember how liberal They were with the bombs that first week, and start wondering what kind of ordinance They're hiding in that metal body armor.

In fact, you hardly see Them at all. It's all news reports from black-eyed drones, propaganda pieces and reality TV. The ones who really cared about the news have bloodshot eyes and scars on their foreheads. The first three Presidents were shot, but the guy They have in office now smiles. You never see Them on camera, only humans talking about Them, and how wonderful They are.

Our neighborhood's still covered in tiny craters and dry splatters of blood.

[Murmur]

OMG SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Okay to use that in other projects?

Absolutely! Feel free to use anytime!

[Don Coyote]

Everyone of us will tell you a different story of how They came and what Their first attack was like. It always seemed to be something tailored to a specific area.
When They came it was a Sunday and it was noontime. I know this because I was still sleeping off Saturday night’s drinking. It started softly, the booming of artillery, which isn’t unusual when you live less than 5 miles from an artillery range. Then the booming got louder, and closer, and then air raid sirens went off. Now I heard those sirens before, in movies and on TV, but they never drilled us what to do, I guess the commanding general never thought we would be under attack, or maybe my brigade was just that lazy. In any case I did the best them I could, I called my platoon sergeant. Dead air. I called my platoon leader. More dead air. I called my joes. More dead air. This whole time I’m hunkered down while my cell phone isn’t working, trying to get some guidance. But then I said to myself, “Self, you got 3 joes in the same building, best go get them and get down to the armory. Shit might be getting real.”
 I still hadn’t looked out my window yet, and to this day I wish I hadn’t some days. The sky was dark blood red, and at first I thought I was still dreaming because I saw Them, walking down the street in broad daylight towards my building. I looked further back and saw a smoking ruin of a barracks building 3 blocks away.
“Well fuck this shit Self. Shit just got surreal.”

To Be Continued...


ETA: "sar'nt" is how most of soldiers say sergant. I've only heard one soldier say 'sarge' and she was prior Navy.