Multiverse 8 Snippet 1

 Sitrep:

I sent MV8 off to Rea on Monday. She got it back to me yesterday, and I did the edits and then sent it off to Goodlifeguide for final formatting. There are... 5 stories? Two new original science fiction, 2 Federation stories, and 1 PRI story.

We'll see if I get it back before Memorial Day. Fingers crossed.

In other news, I've spent the past week running 8 of my old covers through SeaArt to enhance them. I am wrapping up the last one but I'm torn. I'm not sure if I should go with the enhanced original design or one of Bast.

I'll post the new covers in a later post.

Anyway, on to the snippet!

 

Yep,another alien invasion story. But this one has been kicking around for a while.I think it came up after seeing some of the invasion stories where humanitylooses initially? Like Falling Skies and such. Of course, I have to put my owntwist on things. :)

GlenAurellius was out hunting but aware it wasn’t a good time for it. Most of theanimals were active at dawn and dusk. But he had to hunt; he only had so muchfood on him. His backpack was filled with odds and ends to help him survive butwas light on fresh food.

Hereally needed to stop for a while and try to smoke whatever he caught so itwould last longer. Either that or trade the excess again or give it up ratherthan have another survivor try to rob him of it. It wasn’t worth the fight.

Heheard some motion in the ferns up ahead and paused. He knelt slowly, feelingthe ache in his knees from the motion, but he ignored it as he pulled his bowup and notched an arrow.

Theanimal that came out of the bush was a feral pig, maybe six months to a yearold. It wasn’t very bright; it went for the pile of nuts and berries he’d leftout as bait.

Helined up his hunting arrow and made certain he had a solid shot before he letloose. The arrow swished and hit the pig in the shoulder. It squealed in surpriseand tried to run but stumbled.

Hesnapped another arrow up and shot the beast before it got too far. He wasn’t inthe mood to chase it. That arrow hit the head though and had a point not abroad head. It didn’t have the power to penetrate the skull. It stuck out likeone of those spears used to torment fighting bulls.

Hedidn’t think of that much as he pulled a third arrow and shot it. That caughtthe pig in the ass. It stumbled and then fell as its movements and the broadhead arrow tore something vital within it. It finally fell gasping into theferns and dirt.

Glenwent over and used his bowie knife to slit the throat as the pig twitched. Hedidn’t want it to come back to life. He knew he was being stupid; you weresupposed to wait until the kill was dead but he didn’t feel safe.

Hewatched the blood flow as he pulled his arrows and examined them. He flicked abit of gore off one and frowned at the tip of the second arrow. The metal wasokay but the arrow wood behind it had a slight crack. That’s what he got forusing a point and not using composite arrows.

Heshook his head and cleaned the tip on the bristle hide of the fallen beast. Hewas going to eat well tonight even though he wasn’t too fond of pork. Oh, baconwas fine, but ham was a bit greasy.

Still,food was food.

Heput the arrows in the quiver and set it on top of his pack and the bow and thengot to work. He pulled a camping rope out and tossed one end over the tree limbabove. He knotted the other around a rear leg and then yanked it up. Once thepig was jacked up, he tied off the rope and gutted it.

Hewas working fast and dirty, there was no telling what was in the area. A bear,wolverine, big cat, or anything else. The smell of blood would attract otherpredators soon enough. The flies would get fierce too in the early summer heat.

Heflicked a fly away and then began to portion the pig up. It was only eightypounds or so, sixty with the offal unloaded. He left the head and some of thebones behind. He wrapped the rest in a piece of plastic and then tested it ashe got up.

Atforty-two he thought he could handle the pack and meat but it was not going tobe a pleasant haul. He was going to need to find shelter soon as well as somefirewood. Once he was somewhere dependable, he could break the meat downfurther.

Scavengerswere welcome to the leftovers or ex-wives, whichever came first he thought inamusement.

Hehad been married and divorced twice. He’d been something of a JOAT, bouncingaround with careers. He’d never really found his calling. His dreams of beingin the military had died when he’d been injured in a football game. From therehe’d moved on to a few other career paths. He had loved science fiction though,which was why he’d ended up on the west coast.

Nowhe was trying to make it back to the east coast to the old family farm, if iteven existed. Picking his way on foot was a bitch though. There were novehicles running; anyone stupid enough to get one going usually ended up astarget practice for the bastards in orbit.

Involuntarily,he glanced to the sky. It was not quite noon; he had plenty of time to findshelter.

Heheard a commotion ahead of him and instinctively paused and then turned. Hewasn’t certain what it was but he didn’t want to encounter it with so muchweight and his primary weapons locked down behind him. At the moment, he hadhis machete and knife available.

Hewalked around a big tree but then paused and slowly put his hands up at thesight of an alien Centaur standing there holding a rifle. A human in camo wasstanding next to him.

“Well,what do we have here?” the guy said. “I didn’t know we ordered take out, but Ithink we’ll take it to go,” the guy said.

Glenhad a sinking heart. The sounds of something moving in the brush intensified.He turned his head slightly and saw another Centaur charge up and then stop. Itsnorted at him. It was holding a rifle in its arms casually.

“Um,hi, guys?” Glen said.

Theother human snorted. “I believe lunch is served,” he said as he indicated thatGlen should unload.

Glensighed and hoped it was just a robbery.

~~~*~~~