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A Post-Apocalyptic Nightmare

Alien Puppets: Recovered Notebook

of an Alien Invasion Survivor



The journal of a young man

written at the end of the world.

 

James M. Duyer


COPYRIGHT

© 2014, by James M. Duyer

 

"We were not ready for the Aliens . . . but it was our turn."


It's the year 2035, not long after the end of the world as we know it. An Extinction Event that began with an Alien invasion was soon followed by the harvesting of humanity.

A recently discovered journal is the only remaining record of the catastrophe.

Danger Rogers, our young journalist, is faced with a dilema. He uncovers evidence that some of his fellow survivors may be in league with the Aliens, or at the very least have a pre-apoclyptic agreement with them.

How far will he go to keep mankind from becoming extinct? Must he resort to violence in order to ensure a peaceful beginning for future Earth?

Discover the realistic characters that make up the gene pool of humanities new dawn.

Grab a copy of this exciting story today, and share the experience of life in a post-apocalypse world. With its surprising twisted ending, this unique novella of 18,500 words is sure to entertain.

Table of Contents...

Author's Introduction

The following account was pieced together from a partially destroyed journal, kept by one of the survivors of a human extinction event.
Much of the content was shaped by the influence of a second, unpublished collection of papers, discovered under layers of dust near the former office of an abandoned mine in Arizona.
All of the writers, locations, institutions and characters in this novel are the creation of the Author, and are not to be confused with actual people, places or social groups, living or dead.
While some of the fictional characters may express a certain belief or adopt an adversarial stance in regard to various institutions, religions or governments, I do not agree with those points of view, and neither should any reasonable person.
Many people believe that the time is rapidly approaching when the aliens circling around our planet will decide to land and introduce themselves. Some, who believe that they have been the subject of an alien abduction, are certain that they have already had that pleasure.
We have no scientific way to know whether the first true encounter with an alien race will be enriching or a nightmare. We certainly hope that they will be able to use their advanced knowledge to help us. Perhaps we should handle the situation the same way that we would when being introduced to a new neighbor; we could smile, offer to help, and keep a cautious lookout for signs that our offer of friendship was not being well received.

Chapter 1
The Ending

I was born under the sign of the three, and all of the members of our tribe, the survivors of a human catastrophe, call it home. In the last days of the Old Earth, when the alien attack and harvesting of humanity that we call "the Reaping" was upon us, my mother and father sought refuge in an abandoned silver mine in a region once known as Arizona. We survivors have elected to call ourselves a tribe, under the definition that includes a social group comprising those with similar interests, and pointing to a blended family, small in number.
It was pure luck that we were able to find shelter here. My father was delivering groceries to the scientists studying the mine, and just happened to be in the doorway when the aliens came calling. And the aliens weren't bringing flowers or candy. (The words "alien" or "aliens" will forever remain in lowercase letters for the remainder of this journal, as an indication of my supreme disrespect.)
My parents were initially treated with the special disdain that scientists bestow upon the blue-collar workers of the world. Some of the noisier ones even voiced aloud the thought that my father might be average or even below-average. But who's average now, especially since there are less than a thousand people left alive, and spread clear across the globe? Anyway, they let us stay. They really didn't have much of a choice, at least at first, since my mother went into labor almost as soon as she crossed the steel doorway that featured the number "3," signifying the third shaft entrance to the mine. No sooner had my father called her in from the pickup truck than the shock of the catastrophe and her water breaking came hand-in-hand, as if an invitation to repopulate the Earth following upon the depopulation of our planet.
The single occasion in which the scientists appeared to be interested, or paid very much attention to me at all, occurred shortly after they administered a standardized test to check out what they called my "IQ." The Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale for Children was its official name, and the results showed a high standard deviation - with a score of 145. These results were followed by snickers and whispers relating to my actual parentage, in contrast to my putative parentage. They have not shared with me the underlying hypothesis for that theory, and I do not understand their inferences. Yes, the scientists assumed the role of my teachers, and began coaching me at a very early age - most probably as a side benefit of their supreme boredom.
While he may have been deemed average by the scientists, and was actually just a simple grocery store clerk, my father was way above average to me. His sense of humor alone would send him skyrocketing to the top of the charts, in my humble opinion.
My full name, as given by him at birth, is Danger Rogers. I was born a twin, and he named my brother Caution Falling. There was perhaps a causal relationship between the choice of our names and the various posted warning signs strewn about the mine.
However, my brother soon went past his expiration date and was removed from the shelf, according to my father. My mother also turned stale and had to be recycled, almost immediately after giving birth.
I once took the opportunity to inquire into the reasoning behind his naming scheme. He just laughed, and said it would really screw up future historians when they tried to piece together a new history of the world. His second choice was Adam - Cleanup - On - Isle - Three, so I probably should sleep content with what I have.
At certain points in this journal you may find words or word phrases, surrounded by quotation marks, that may seem either odd or misused. I can only report what I am given, and due to the shortage of paper and writing instruments, I am forced to record what I hear, even if I am not sure of the spelling. Please excuse this.
I would have liked to title this journal Notes of Danger, except that I am not sure how many more pages of paper I can liberate from the scientists stack of notebooks, without their noticing. Anyway, if I don't finish this journal, would it mean that on some plane of existence I never even started it? Crap, that's what you get from an education provided by scientists.

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Author, Jim Duyer

We were not ready
but it was our turn.

A journal kept by a young man, one of the few survivors of an Alien harvesting of humans, is our only record of the catastrophe. Educated by scientists, and living with his tribal family in the abandoned mine they call "The 3", he desperately searches for answers. He needs some clues, something beyond the realm of accepted science, some answers to the "why" and "how" of this apocalyptic event.

The Discovery ...

Then he discovers that some of his fellow survivors may be in league with the Aliens.

A Big Problem ...

Will he go to extreme measures needed, in order to ensure the survival of humanity?

Read this exciting novellette of 18,500 words and share the experience of life in a post-apocalyptic world.

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