From The Moon

Eight days is how long Lori spent wandering about before she found another living soul.

As luck would have it. She didn’t find one person but a whole group of them. It felt as though all her Christmases had come at once.

Still, it was harrowing to hear what had gone on in the ten days since the ‘bugs,’ as this group calls the things she saw break from below the Moon’s surface, had arrived on Earth.

From what she’s been told the aliens have not only turned every city to ash, severing communication links for those who remain, but begun burrowing deep into the planets crust. No one knows why. There is no way to know. They can’t exactly go up to a bug and ask it what it’s doing for they kill humans on sight.

Learning that had brought back memories of the three astronauts and their collective fates. Yet, Lori feels if she had not seen it with her own eyes she might be inclined to disregard what this group had told her. Why, she cannot say; that is simply how she feels.

“So what are you doing out here? Where are you headed?” The blonde woman asks while sat in the back of pickup truck as it hurtles down a dirt track mixed with ruined asphalt.

“We’re going to fight back. It’s all we can do. We’re not letting no bugs take our home. Earth is ours. Don’t care where they came from or why they’re here.”

“Yeah, so long as we’re alive the bugs will never win.”

These and many other similar sentiments are fired in Lori’s direction. They sound grand, strong, determined; all things she does not feel while sat in this vehicle.

To be honest all she wants to do is rest. If she were too able the blonde with the ponytail, which she pulls on to tighten, thinks she could sleep for years. Instead, she asks, “How are you going to fight back?”

“The only way we can…” Is the reply uttered without context.

Thankfully the context is provided shortly thereafter when someone else exclaims, “We’re going to assault them, all out. No mercy. No remorse. No hesitation. We’re going to teach these bugs not to FUCK with humanity.”

There are cheers, chants and affirmations in the positive in response to the statement uttered.  It’s a clear indication that this group really do believe in their cause. Lori cannot say it is her cause. She might believe in the overall idea of Earth remaining in the hands of those who were born upon it, humanity in this case, but that doesn’t mean she believes in the notion of an all out assault on the bugs. In part it’s because she knows so little about them, and by the sounds of things so does this group. And so to her it sounds like madness that their first reaction be attack rather than first analyse, watch, document and study.

Is that the scientist in me?

She doesn’t know. It might be. Or maybe it’s something deeper than that. Whatever the reason be might the woman thinks it’s time she and this group part ways, little more than an hour after having first met them.

Alas, before she gets the opportunity an assault rifle is thrust into her hands.

“Why are you giving me this?” Is the confused exclamation from the Australian woman.

“We need every soul we can get.” Comes the reply from one of the members of the group in the pickup truck with her.

In total there are five trucks and including her twenty seven people. She looks from the weapon to the couple faces turned her way only able to imagine the expression on her face. Seeing theirs she thinks it obvious she has no option. Resigned to her new position as a ‘freedom fighter,’ Lori sighs and then utters, “What’s the plan?” Her tone makes it clear she is not enthused one iota by this development not of her own choosing.

“I know you’re probably thinking this is mad but we’ve chosen this target carefully.” Lori doesn’t say a word or react in any meaningful way but would like to because mad is certainly one of the words that comes to mind, she has to admit. “From our observations…” Oh good they have made some then. “…this contingent some twenty miles up the coast is far smaller than is normal.”

Unable to dismiss her curiosity the former Director of Foundation queries hopefully, “How many?”

“A couple hundred, maybe.” Is the uncertain reply that is given. It dashes Lori’s hopes as swiftly as a person might snap their fingers. Yet, not wanting to cause a scene the blonde then wonders, “Are we meeting up with anyone else?”

The response delivered unto her  is a collection of blank stares. Immediately, she regrets her question; though a full answer is forthcoming a short time later when one of the group admits, “No tech works; not radios, phones, nothing.”

Gulping, the former Director for Foundation I gets the distinct and horrifying feeling that she is a part of what might be a suicide run, a one way trip. Upon this observation it first enters her head that she could risk leaping from the speeding vehicle. Clearly her chances of survival, let alone escape, would be slim she soon discerns upon closer inspection of how swiftly the world around is passing them by. That leaves her with one other option, reasoning with these people to make them see this is not a plan but a death sentence. Surely, she thinks, they have to be rational. They seemed it, up to this point anyway.

“Is there no one we can hook up with, to help improve our odds? We can’t be the only ones after all. There has to be more people out here like us; survivors.”

“There might be…” Comes the admittance which sees relief wash over Lori. She didn’t think it would be this easy to reason with them.

“…but there might not be and the bugs aren’t going to wait around for us to all band together. Find each other and then strike. No. We need to do it now. While they least expect it.”

“Right.” The blonde woman mutters not in agreement as she looks down at the weapon in her arms.

Lori has never liked guns. Not because she’s had no experience with them, she has. More than is probably the norm. It’s just they are not objects which bring forth in her the sorts of feelings they did in her father. This way before he got ill and had to go into a home to be cared for because her mother couldn’t cope any longer. It’s not surprising really given that her parents are both in their eighties.

You see, Lori was the fifth and last child they had, hence why they were the age they were, fifties, when she came along. Still, it likely doesn’t matter now because it hasn’t escaped her keen mind that they are likely dead, like Ian, Rachelle, Dean, Kevin and everyone else she has ever known. Especially, since they lived in Melbourne. So, going by what she has been told, it is only logical that if every city the world over has been destroyed by the bugs, then that means that they more than likely wouldn’t have made it out.

Emotions, grief, despair, misery, begin to overwhelm her. She forces them aside. It isn’t easy, not at all. But Lori is determined to focus on where she finds herself now, which is why she questions, “Have any of you killed one of the… bugs?”

The former Director wasn’t sure she should resort to using the term this group has given the aliens from the Moon but it’s a quicker and easier way to refer to the hornet-esque creatures she cannot purge from her mind’s eye. And believe me she has tried, more than she would like to have to admit.

Yet, there is no answer to her question. What there is are plenty of coughs, clearing of throats, sighs and other such noises. Just nothing that can be taken as a confirmation, or a denial. Whether the people in the pickup with her realise it or not that tells Lori all that she needs to know, and is in no way positive. Not that she gets to dwell on such things for their truck comes to a skidding halt only to be followed by an announcement that, “We’re here. Dismount.”

Raising her head to take in what lies ahead, which Lori learns is the outskirts of an utterly ruined city. She doesn’t recognise it, not in the slightest. Most of the skyline is partially or completely toppled buildings. Some even look melted, while others appear as though they have been broken over a giants’ knee and then discarded.

The view is spectacular in its horror and try as she might Lori cannot bring herself, as she clambers out of the pick-up, to ask what city this used to be. In ways she cannot truly understand it feels in asking that question she would be being disrespectful. Perhaps it is because so many must have died here, and no matter what city it used to be it will not change the fate it suffered.