Earth-2025 Chapter 1 (WIP)

My name is Chanel Hansley. 

I survived what was left to Earth.

The mass enslavement was beyond anything any of us could predict. It came without warning. 

The scars from that morning won’t heal for as long as I live. 

 The earth shook ever so gently as circular ships descended from the sky. I remember the mass panic that erupted from the United States and beyond. News channels panicking. Citizens being eradicated in droves by large, circular ships which shot laser beams into our buildings, making them burn and crumble. I remember the bloody bodies of men, women and children crushed by the ruble.

That’s how they got rid of most of us. They knew they couldn’t enslave billions. So, they eradicated a lot in very little time. All over the world.  

The aliens who came down were tough. Surprisingly short, but they had determination and strength in numbers. They’re 5 feet. Bipedal beings. Gray of flesh. Big round heads and black butterfly-winged eyes. They looked like the stereotypical aliens one would see in a cheesy 50s horror movie. 

I went upstairs, tripping over a step or two as waves of anxiety hit me over and over. I need to get my son-Logan. Swiftly, I open his bedroom door and he’s missing. Gone. Dead? Alive and taken by the Grays? I cried more, screamed his name. I even checked his closet, which was way too small to fit a fully grown man inside. But I was desperate. My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. 

He didn’t come running for me. He always did. Never was he a rebel. He’s a scared guy. Thirty years old, nerdy, wears glasses, slim frame. Not someone who’d run away from his mom. I take a deep breath. Though I couldn’t relax. Not with the sounds of explosions in the distance and people screaming.

I run downstairs, grab my jacket and run into the cold, morning air. It would warm up. It was summer, thankfully. Meaning I won’t freeze to death if I get far enough away to hide from this invasion. 

 Bodies, blood and gore covered the suburban streets I was so used to walking. What was once so normal, had gone to hell.

I got into my car which was parked right in front of my home. I didn’t put it in the garage last night. I slam the gas pedal and reverse the vehicle swiftly. Around me, houses were blown up. People ran up to my car and begged me to stop and pick them up, but I was in such a state of shock I couldn’t think. I wish I had picked up one. I feel guilty. I suppose I can’t hit myself over the head too much. I’m terrified. Crying.  

Need to outrun these bastards. Find a place to hide. If I’m dead, Logan will forever be alone. My hands are tight, my stomach aches as I drive the fastest I ever have. I feel nauseous as I see more dead bodies littering the streets of my town. Some are dragged by the Grays by their ankles and some are outright carried over a shoulder. What do these creatures want? Do I want to know? What will happen to Logan? Focus, Chanel. Don’t die. You’re his only hope.

The sensors that cover my car are blaring. Too far left. Too far right. No alarm for alien invasion, go home. I feel my car hit several rocks and potholes. Please, tires. Don’t pop. I feel like praying.

Peeling out of the suburban bliss, I raced by the grocery store which was completely destroyed and littered with bodies charred in black. Had it not been a ball of fire and smoke, I definitely would’ve picked up food and water. I think the trunk of my car has a spare tire, a jug of water and maybe some  grocery bags. 

As I drive past the post office, I see the mail woman I see every morning, lying face first on the pavement, covered in blood and missing both her legs. I swallow some vomit and speed on through. 

I’m lucky that the ships aren’t following me and spraying my vehicle with lasers. Maybe the hustle and bustle of hundreds of people are keeping the Grays distracted. I do have to jerk the wheel to make sure I don’t hit more bumps though. 

I know once I pass the town square, I can make a sharp left and go onto the dirt road. It’s where I take my morning walks. It’s a good place to stop and hide. I hope. 

Empty homes greet me after my full on panic attack and driving through destroyed roads. I keep scanning the skies and see nothing. Even the sounds started to disappear as I drove deeper into the woods. Maybe Logan is in one of these houses? It’s possible he just ran from his bedroom and made a swift jog to the woods. Maybe one of these people knows where he is? I can’t just drive on by, forget all these empty homes. Against my own safety, I park in front of one of these two-story homes surrounded by woods and put my car in park. The homes now are far apart. This is where people lived if they didn’t want to be bothered. 

 Taking a deep breath, I open the driver’s side door slowly. The sounds of birds and wind rustling through leaves greets me. A dog barks far away, probably calling for an owner who is abducted or dead. 

I’m hyper aware. My anxiety had turned into full on adrenaline. I could hear the Grays yelling in some odd language as I drove by the carnage. Some high pitched squeaks. Like a demonic pig. Probably shouting orders to one another. Trying to abduct and kill as many humans as possible. If that is their goal. 

Opening the trunk of my car, I grab a hunting knife. If only I had put a gun in here. I guess sometimes listening to gun nuts is helpful. I see a jug of Poland Spring water in the corner, a spare tire as well along with the blue Walmart bags I never used on my shopping sprees. Lastly, I see a container of gasoline. I grab one of the bags, this home better have some good stuff in it. Technically, I’m breaking and entering. Though in the alien apocalypse, I doubt it’ll leave a lasting impression. 

 I close the trunk and make my way to the house. Luckily, I had picked a comfortable outfit. Not that I dress fancy anyway, but I didn’t opt for a summer skirt and flats. Instead, my garb is boots, green cargo pants and black t-shirt. My jacket is brown, leather, worn. I planned on doing yard work today, so I am dressed for action. Though I’m getting more action then I ever would want at the age of sixty. 

Peeking inside the windows of the home, I see no one moving around. No bloody carcass either. I do see some broken picture frames though and a chair knocked over. Raising my knife, I open the door which is already off its hinges. 

Stepping inside, I see a living room, a couch, a TV. And spots of blood on the hardwood floor. I keep my steps quiet. 

In case one of the Grays decided to stay here. I can’t guess what goes through the mind of an alien. 

The house is small, it doesn’t take me long to look through the rooms. 

I keep calling Logan’s name, probably in vain. I can’t start crying again. Not now. 

I go to the kitchen and begin collecting whatever is in the cabinets. Peanut butter, cans of beans. I try to slow my breathing down and not be so frantic. But the thought of Logan dead or being tortured swims through my mind. I can picture him. Yelling my name. Tears streaming down his reddened face. 

Logan is sensitive. Didn’t have the easiest life. I never thought I’d have to think about his death. I thought I’d go way before him.

Stupidly, my back faces the front door of the home as I collect food and items for my future journey. 

I hear the angry, high pitched squeal of a Gray. Before I could turn to face it, it leapt onto my back and I screamed. I fall forward, hitting my mouth on the hardwood floor. I feel my lip bleed. 

The bag of items I held goes flying in the air and clashes to the ground a few feet from me. I feel it pull my short, silver hair. It seems to be in a frenzied state.

As I sweat and my muscles tense, I use all my strength to roll on my back. The Gray is momentarily crushed under my weight, which isn’t much. Average for an older lady, I guess. It then leaps onto my chest with lightning speed. It screams into my face, I feel its hot breath hit my nose and mouth. In its mouth, are tiny razor sharp teeth and a dark purple tongue. From my pocket, I grip the black hilt of the hunting knife and jam the large, serrated blade into the alien’s neck. It emanates a high pitched scream. Purple blood caked my hand, I felt the thick liquid coat my flesh. Luckily, it wasn’t made of acid or some other intense liquid. I kick the slimy thing off my chest and stand up. 

With the wound in its neck still gushing blood, the Gray looked at me with narrowed, huge eyes of anger. It was shorter than me, it wore all black with electrical buttons on its uniform. It charges at me in a panic, I then stand in a fighting position and as soon as it’s close enough I stab the eye of the Gray. It wails in pain again and falls on its back. Out of breath, I watched it writhe on the floor for a few moments before it succumbed to both wounds and its heart stopped beating. I assume it had a heart. Or two. Who knows? With a tired sigh, I turn to the sink close by and wash my hands of the purple gunk and clean my knife as well. I splash cold water on my face and I feel my body slowly calm down. I’m as calm  as I can be while aliens take over my hometown. 

I keep driving on dirt roads, roads I’ve never been on before. I see corpses littered here and there and I hear the distant hum of the UFOs. Though, I don’t think they’re covering every inch of the town. If they plan on taking over the entire world, I doubt they’ll comb every last inch within a few weeks. Which means they’re not indestructible. The Grays must have limits. Sure, their technology is probably vast and powerful. Strangely, I need to think rationally to keep my depression and anxiety at bay. They’re not omniscient. They’re not Gods. They’re space faring creatures with good abilities. I killed one. It bled. I heard it scream and saw it suffer. They’re carbon based and can be stopped. As much as I want to just run around and look for Logan, I want to find a weapon and some other items. I can’t go into battle with just a hunting knife. I need to play things smart if I want to succeed. 

Entering another empty home which looked similar to the last, I found a jackpot of items. Under the bed, is a shotgun complete with shells. My son never went to the shooting range with me, but I’ve been a few times. 

Politically, things on earth got a little hairy for minorities, people with disabilities and LGBTQ+ people, so I thought it best to defend my home. Logan has autism and developmental disabilities. If the government wanted to turn cops and soldiers against him, I’d be there to protect and defend him with everything I had. 

I’ve always been there for him. From his time at school when he had trouble with paper work and homework. His meltdowns, his happiness. I’m not going to let creatures from Mars ruin my life. I need to keep hope alive. I need to think he is out there. If I get too deep into depression, I won’t get anything done and I’ll end up curling in a ball and crying. Crying and emotions are all a part of life and not signs of weakness. But right now, I need to shove it down. Just for a little while. I know that’s not healthy. I know therapists say to live in these moments. But it’s also not healthy to be killed or abducted by aliens. 

Alright. I need to focus as I drive. The sun is setting and I am tired. I go through what I have thus far. I have the shotgun, ammo, and I even found a bullet proof vest. The person I raided was one of those doomsday preppers. Living out in the country, it’s not surprising. You get those types a lot. This prepper had a lot. I was able to snag some more perishable food as well. I’m looking for another abandoned home. I would’ve stayed in one of the other cabins, but I didn’t want to rest while daylight was still upon me. I want to go deeper into the woods. To where I can’t hear the sounds of torture and decay. 

The last home I investigated that night was picture perfect. A few miles away from the dirt road, I had to leave my car behind and trudge through the woods on foot. With a flashlight in hand, I watch my step as I feel roots and sticks beneath me. 

The air is warm. Not muggy, but breezy. I hear animals rustle around as I go further into the woods. 

I remembered passing this home a few times on day-long walks while Logan was at school. I found it such a nice log cabin, though I didn’t dare step too close. I knew the owner or owners wanted seclusion. 

I never knew the guy who owned it. I saw him tending to a garden once. I remember he had a beard, was lanky and I’d guess extremely self-reliant. 

As I near the property, I aim my shotgun out into the darkness. If a Gray wanted to jump me, I’d be ready. I clear my throat. In case the man is in there, I announce myself. 

“Hello? Anyone here?” I don’t scream, but I yell. I spook a few critters in the distance. Though, the rustling of leaves sends me into states of pure adrenaline. I flash right back to that first Gray. Smartly, I duct taped my flashlight to the end of my shotgun which made for quite a nice little attachment. The cabin is small, the steps to the front door creak as I make my way toward the door. Wrapping my hand around the handle, to my surprise it’s unlocked. Or maybe to my eerie shock. Was this man dead? Was he just out for a while? I had my answer as soon as I looked down. I gasped gently at the sight of the old man. Lying on the floor, eyes wide open and a face of terror across his mouth. Had he died of a heart attack? Was it a Gray that did him in? I didn’t see any blood. 

Quite unceremoniously, I dragged the man’s carcass by his feet and tossed him into the back of the home. I felt terrible. Muttering sorry as I did it. His  corpse was heavy, but I really didn’t want the body to stay with me. I had enough deep, dark thoughts to keep me up at night. If I had the energy and I could see better, I would’ve dug a hole and buried the poor man. Alas, I had to think about the end of the world and the possible death of my son. 

Lying in his bed, his sheets feel clean enough. The home is so quiet. Only the sounds of light wind and crickets are audible. The cabin was pitchblack, the man did have a couple light switches around so I assume he had some kind of generator going. Lying in darkness is what I needed. 

I've seen so much today. I woke up this morning in my own home. How quickly everything changed. I close my eyes and the images of bloodied corpses fill my mind. I really need to sleep. 

I want to feel well rested. I need to find Logan. 

My heart begins to race again. I whisper to myself. Taking deep breaths. 

Both my hands rested on my stomach. Focus on my own voice. Calm thoughts. You’re strong, Chanel. You’re going to find your son again. You killed one alien, you can kill more. No matter how much sweat, blood and tears I’m covered in-I’m not giving up. I have hope on my side. I have a will to live. A will to fight against the evil that is ensnaring our world. You can do this. 

As I speak, I can feel my brain slowly going into a nice fog. I try to forget everything around me. I try to just imagine myself floating on a soft pillow. Away from the stress and violence I’ve been presented with.

My dreams are full of Logan. Us going out to eat, us going to the movies. 

He’s a particular guy. His autism makes it so that he likes repetition and similar things throughout the day. It breaks my heart to know that he’s trapped somewhere horrifying. I’m not supposed to bury my own kid. He’s supposed to live a long, healthy life. Have I failed him?