Xeno Hunt: An A to Z Tale
A short distance from the place where I grew up is a new building (the invader’s fortress). Battles were many and lasted decades – sometimes lifetimes. Combat consisted of buttons, laboratories, and nanotechnology. Doubtlessly, the invaders thought it was more civil that way. Everyone I loved withered away before my eyes from the artificial disease the Xenos released. Fear of the “Slow death” caused many to flee into the safety of abandoned buildings, caves, and the tunnels they dug with their own hands. Gone is the world I once loved.
Hiding for weeks and running low on supplies, I decided to search the charred remains of the city for food. I chose to leave in the early morning vs. night because the sentries traveled in smaller packs in the mornings. Just beyond the twisted gates of my hiding place, I heard two distinct sounds – a drone, whistling in the distance – and a rustling, from the building across the street. Knowing that the drone was closing in, I ignored the rustling and found shelter beneath a large slant of fallen building. Low in the sky, the drone whizzed over the city and disappeared beyond the rooftops.
“Maybe they’ll come back around,” a voice called from across the street. Narrowly missing being sighted by the drone, I spun around; my rifle raised.
“Oh, hello Zach,” I said, lowering the rifle. “Perhaps, but I doubt it.”
Quick and agile, the teen scrambled through the window of the dilapidated building and joined me on my side of the street. Ruins towered over us on both sides as we began to slowly make our way down the vehicle littered road.
Seven blocks, and a half hour later, we found ourselves huddled inside the doorway of a long-abandoned butcher shop, watching quietly as the two-man team of sentries worked their way past. They moved cautiously, raising their weapons to clear every window, every doorway. Up until I heard footsteps coming from just outside, I thought that our little hunting expedition would probably yield no results. Very slowly, I followed them (those pricks) after they passed the butcher shop with my rifle held out in front of me. When I shot them in their backs, they were both too surprised to scream.
Xeno-meat isn’t the best meal, especially when the creature that you’re eating is earthling, still, our many hungry mouths found joy in every crispy, greasy morsel, even the parts where the smell of their singed, wispy fur still lingered.
“You going to eat that,” Zachary asked, his hungry red eyes homing in on the half-eaten hand resting on my lap. “Zach,” I said, pointing to the remains of two other humans, there’s plenty more where that came from.”
