FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

AN:

Story partly inspired by capthavoc123's “Transmission Lost" and Kellan_Meigh's “Scribe".

Please forgive my writing style, I'm not very experienced with description and character movements. Don't exactly have a large vocabulary either.

I also started writing this story a few days after I had my wisdom teeth removed as a way to pass time.

Anyway, this is going to be a three chapter story, but rest assured they will be long chapters.

Very long chapters. This one alone is seven-thousand or so words.

In the end maybe I can stick with this story and not abandon it, like I've done some many other stories because my attention span is that of a millennial. I have an excuse to make that joke, because I'm a millennial as well!

Cover art credited to Oraculum Games.

Comment down below your thoughts and views about the story. It may be what fuels me to continuing writing this thing.

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Five years ago there was a war. In this war humanity nearly destroyed itself in a mindless nuclear exchange. September 13th, 2019 marked the beginning of the Third World War and on May 21st, 2021, two years later, marked the final day of the Old World. That day will forever be burned into my mind, the day I lost practically everything I had ever known in nuclear holocaust. I don't know who launched the first missile, or dropped the first bomb, all I know is that I'm stuck on a radioactive hellhole called Earth!

I digress though, there is nothing I can do about it.

Now I spend what is left of my fragile existence wandering across post-USA. In the grey fallout covered skies I could see buildings forming on the horizon. Appling more gas to my one mean of transport, an armored up police Chevy Tahoe, I set course for the ruins. The highway was surprisingly clear of vehicles, though that made me wary of scavengers.

As I enter what probably used to be a sprawling American town I keep scanning the empty streets for movement. Looking at the condition of the buildings they showed no sign of damage caused by nuclear detonations, if they did this town wouldn't be standing, another crater among many.

Pulling up to what seemed to be an old supermarket I put my vehicle in park. After scanning around the empty lot one last time I open the door. Stepping out I made sure to grab my Remington 870 shotgun, the workhorse of my firearm collection. Shouldering the shotgun I locked the Tahoe behind me and make my way into the mart.

The mart wasn't anything staggering, empty aisles and registers. It was dark inside and only my flashlight provided ample light to navigate with. I did step over a few skeletons. Poor bastards most likely got trampled or shot trying to secure enough supplies for themselves or their family when they learned what had happened. No clothes though, most likely scavenged as well.

I felt something break under my feet, followed by a ear splitting crack. Shining my flashlight down I had accidentally stepped on a skull and ended up caving it in. Shit, should watch where I step. All I need to do is step on a mine or some booby trap. The war may be over, but the killing wasn't.

Doesn't matter if every nation on earth collapses, man will be man. In the end every human is out for their own desires and needs. I'm no exception to that and I've grown to accept it. I've killed for my survival, and will probably keep killing until I get killed. I'm no sadist mind you, I know my boundaries.

Why the hell am I getting all philosophical, psychological? Fuck it, whatever the word is, it's somewhere in that range. I don't exactly have a large vocabulary, not like I need one. I'm doing it again, fuck damn it. I need to stop talking to myself.

I'm insane aren't I?

Considering my situation I could be a lot worse off. By the grace of God I may have some form of sanity left. Be it my faith or some sort of inner resilience I didn't know I had, I managed stayed sane for the past five years.

Coming up to the back wall of the market I scan the area, shining my flashlight in every shadow. Seeing as it was clear I enter the back room of the mart. I quickly scan the area, finding no one inside besides myself. Letting my shotgun hang by its sling I got to work with finding anything of use, and somehow I found a box of canned beans. Halleluja!

Mustering my strength I lift the box and carry it all the way to the Tahoe. I moved as quickly as I could, I didn't like being defenseless like this for any set period of time. After popping the lock, which took me balancing the box with one arm and a knee to accomplish, I quickly shove the box into the left back seat. Closing the door I quickly ran to the driver's side and hopped in. Starting the engine I threw it into drive and floored it out of the parking lot.

I immediately got back on the highway and sped off, not looking back to the town. I got what I needed from it, no sense in just standing around. If there was one thing I learned in five years it's not to hang around towns or any population centers for a long period of time. Snipers, bandits, a hole lot of baddies like to set up shop in them. I find it safer to keep moving, never to look back, only forward.

After driving for a full thirty minutes I pull off on an exit to one of those public restroom areas. Parking behind the building I shut off the engine then wait there for a time, scanning out the armored slits of my Tahoe's windows. When nothing showed I unstrap my seat belt and twist myself into the back seat.

I retrieve one of the cans, then pull out the multitool I kept in my firefighter suit's pants. I'm not sure if the firefighter gear even protected against radiation, but it did help with other hazards. Anyway, after cracking open the can I dig into my meager meal. That is, of course, after I remove the respirator mask from my face, another object I scavenged from a fire station, along with the ballistic helmet I kept over it. I wolf the beans down, throwing manners out the window. I hadn't eaten anything in a fucking week!

I'm getting ahead of myself, I haven't even told you who I am. The name's Marcus Patterson, twenty five years of age and born in the state of Florida. Never actually lived there, spent most of my life moving across the country. Anyway, I graduated from a small college down in Georgia after getting my masters in Psychology. I had been planning on becoming a police officer. Did an explorer's program and everything, but clearly it was never meant to be.

The Tahoe I drove was from the very station I had done the explorers program under. Though obviously it had been modified since I first got my hands on it. Added a few armored plates along the more important areas, like the engine and windows. Even added a metal skirt.

It's my home. I had just about everything I needed to extend my survival in this thing. Plenty of guns, ammo, fuel, and even a water purifier. I'm not sure if it cleans out radioactive particles, but its not like I can really do anything about it. I wouldn't be surprised if I had radiation poisoning.

About all I really had to do was scavenge for food and make sure no one touched my stuff. I don't trust people, not at all. Majoring in psychology had taught me a few things. Combined with the stuff I learned from my time with various police departments I could tell when people were being deceptive. Also helps when your own mother was a master manipulator.

Anyway, that aside. In the relative silence outside I could hear what sounded to be engines in the distance. Grabbing my respirator I place it over my head and put back on my helmet. I take the M4 in the passenger's seat and slowly opened the door and step out. I walk around the building and press myself against one of the worn wooden pillars of the over decorated public bathroom.

The sound of the engines grow louder and soon six motorcycles and an eighteen wheeler roll down the road. Bandits by the look of it. None of them take the exit, probably thinking I continued on the highway. Shit, I should have gone back the way I came, at least then I would be able to continue on without dealing with them. Whatever, I'll kill them all if they cross me.

Even when they were out of view I stayed there, even if for a few moments. I hold my rifle against my bullet proof police vest, waiting to see if they would come back. After at least fifteen minutes of nothing but the light breeze I head back to my Tahoe.

The paint had mostly worn off, you could barely make out the word 'POLICE' on it. Mud and dirt caked it and its armored skirt. I hadn't even bothered to clean it for the past three years. What was I supposed to do, throw buckets of radioactive water at it?

Climbing back inside I place the M4 back into its place. I couldn't hang around here. I could go back the way I came, but I didn't want to. I want to continue going west. Why you ask, because I wanted to go west. Not everything needs a solid reason. Maybe I could use one of the side roads to get to another highway?

I turn on the laptop that was still plugged into the car. It was held up by a stand, just hovering over the passenger's seat. The same stand it used back when it was a dedicated police vehicle. As it powered on I scan outside again, making sure no one was trying to sneak up on me. Never can be too careful.

After it boots up I type in the username and password my officer friend had given me, before he had… kicked the bucket for a lack of a better phrase. That man was the calmest officer I had ever met. A true people person and close friend, but he was one hell of an aggressive driver. It was infectious too, I drive just as, if not more, aggressively that he did. Well for obvious reasons, there weren't exactly any traffic laws anymore.

Maybe I should chase the bandits down and traffic stop them. See the look on their faces as I give them citations for reckless driving, then speed over the median in a show of irony, and vanish from sight in their stupor.

Yeah, that would only get me killed. Funny idea though.

Starting up the engine I put it in drive and circle around the building. I creep out of the stop looking around for the group. Finding nothing but clear road I gun it. As I drove I used my right hand to bring up the GPS. Don't ask why I have wifi, it's just as much of a mystery to you as it is to me. I mostly saw it as a blessing, one of the few miracles that existed in my current lifestyle.

When the GPS loaded I began searching for another highway I could use. I found one, but it would take some time to get too. I am currently near Newton, Kansas. I could take US-50 until I reached Dodge City, from there I'll take US-400 to another US-50, there I could get onto Highway 25, which lead to Denver. Finally, I could take Highway 70 through the mountains and continue west.

My uncle Derrick Patterson lived in Denver. Old bastard is probably long dead by now, I wouldn't be surprised to find a massive crater in the ground when I get there. That is, of course, if I ever live that long to reach it.

I wasn't afraid to die, not fully at least. I knew where I was going. I'm a God fearing man, I believe in Christ. That doesn't stop me from being doubtful though, what if He truly doesn't exist. People could argue that the nuclear holocaust was enough proof. For me however, I just saw it as another mark in human history. Another bloody mark to the already fucked up history of man.

Upon reaching Newton I quickly navigated my way through the desolate town, being even more cautious than last time. Upon reaching US-50 I again gunned it down the road. As I settled back into the seat I mentally prepared myself for the long trip ahead. If I'm sparing I could make these beans last a few days, enough to get me to Highway 25 at least. I definitely had plenty of fuel to make it to Highway 70, but I'll make sure along the way to pick up any fuel that I can find.

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Marcus' Album of Awesome

DANCE WITH THE DEAD

Banshee

Play?

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I tapped my right hand to the beat of the music. Somehow in all this time the stereo system still worked, providing plenty of tunes from the music I installed on the laptop. My phone was long dead, don't even know where it is anymore. I think it's somewhere in the Tahoe, probably buried under a bunch of crap or it fell out of the SUV when I stopped somewhere.

A decent storm raged overhead, it had yet to rain though. Plenty of wind and lightning. I had switched the headlights on seeing as it had grown dark. I would keep the headlights on constantly if not for the fear of draining the battery too quickly. I did have a good amount of spares, but somethings I am a bit conservative with, like politics. Though I'm not sure how any of that would equate into the New World, as I've decided to dub it, just now.

Anyway, I was somewhere in between Dodge and Garden city with plenty of flat country around. I probably had another day or two of traveling before I got too Highway 25. I did stop at the fire station in Dodge city and found plenty of oxygen tanks to use. I'd rather not breath radioactive fallout into my lungs thank you very much.

BOOM!

Now, with the storm above one would think I would have passed it off simple thunder. I very well would have if it wasn't for the ball of fire that fell from the sky soon after it.

“What in the name of!" I was cut off by an earth shattering explosion. The fireball impacted just off the road digging a trench into the field to the side. In panic I had turned to avoid it, but ended up nearly flipping my vehicle. I struggled to regain control of it and managed to do so. I then brought it to a screeching stop.

If it wasn't for the gloves covering my hands I pretty sure my knuckles would be visibly white. What in the fuck was that? I look into the rear view mirror and find a trench quite literally on fire. Shit, what should I do?

I need to get out of here and put as much distance as I could between me and what-ever-the-fuck that was. Wait no, I should investigate it! Damn it I'm torn. What to do, what to do.

Fuck it, I don't see myself living a full life anyway. Might as well see what it was. In all likelihood I was just in the right position to see a satellite or meteorite fall.

Popping open the door I grab both my shotgun and M4 rifle. I slung the rifle over my left shoulder, then shouldered my shotgun into my right. Slowly I climbed down from the relative safety of my homemade tank. I turn and take out the keys from the ignition. Don't need anyone running out of the dark and taking off with my shit.

After stuffing the keys into my vest I shut the door and begin walking towards the crash site. Upon reaching the trench I walk down its length. As I approached the end I took note of the odd shape of the object. It then dawned upon it wasn't a space rock, but looked to be a satellite of some sort, a big one at that. The thing had an aerodynamic shape to it. Five meters tall, three wide, and at least eleven long. The back end of it was flat however and seemed to have a, hatch? I'm I seeing shit correctly?

There was a hiss from the object and out of reflex I raise my shotgun and flip the safety off. The hatch on the back opens and a few moments later someone, no something, stumbled out. In the low light it looked very odd, if not animalistic. It got a only few feet away from the crash before it collapsed on the ground. Keeping my shotgun trained on it I slowly approach it.

Letting go of the pump I use my left hand to dig out my flashlight. With it in hand I turn it on and look over it. It, for a lack of a better term, looked like someone stuffed a cheetah or something into some sort of skinny space suit and gave it a somewhat human body. I could tell it looked like a cheetah due to the clear visor it had on its helmet, which contained a feline like head with yellow fur, black spots, and a cream colored under-jaw and neck. It had to be at least 3 meters or more in height, probably due to its digitigrade legs. It even had a tail!

What the fuck is going on, I'm serious.

What. The. Actual. Living. Fuck.

Have I finally lost it? Am I hallucinating?

Did the war never happen and I am currently in a mental asylum?

…

Most likely not, but the possibility was still on the table.

There was a groan from the hatch and I snapped to it. There standing in the portal was another one! Oh for the love of God, how many more are in there? When I shined my light on it it let out a hiss in pain as it shielded its eyes with a hand. This one seemed to be wearing some form of body armor over its space suit and even had different fur coloring. Rather than yellow it has an light sandy brown with black stripes rather than spots and a darker cream color along the neck and jaw.

It brought its arms up in a defensive manner, open palms towards me. It says something with a faint growl. It's female judging by the tone. I couldn't understand a fucking lick of what it, I mean she, said. It's then when it finally hit me; aliens, fucking aliens.

A husky laugh forced itself out of me. I'm done, I'm fucking done! I lower my shotgun, turn around, and start walking. I don't care if the alien decides to shoot me in the back, I'm too frizzled to deal with the current fucking situation. Oh and would you look at that, it's raining. It's fucking raining!

I didn't look back as I crossed the small ridge separating the road from the field, storming (no pun intended) all the way back to the Tahoe. I left the door cracked on accident, which only fueled my anger. In a fit of rage I rip open the door, climb inside, and slam it shut. Wrapping my hands around the steering wheel I squeeze them tight, trying to vent some of my anger.

If you're wondering why I'm in my current state, I'll tell you fucking why! Five years ago I had everything ripped away from me. My family, friends, dreams, and life style all dashed against the curb and stomped to oblivion! I've spent the last five years killing, starving, and suffering a fate I cannot change. So suddenly a group of feline aliens crash beside me, out of the fucking blue, and I'm supposed to accept that?

I slam the keys into the ignition and put it in drive, then stomp on the accelerator, leaving the crash in the dust. In the rear-view mirror I swore I saw something standing on the ridge. I ignore it, if it was one of the aliens they can watch for all I care. If they start shooting at me however, I'm turning around and returning fire. Alien invasion be damned! You shoot at me you have to be brain dead not to expect me to shoot back.

The rain becomes harder and pounds on the windshield. I flip on the wipers. The longer I drove the calmer I got, until the point I just felt like shit. A small void in the center of my chest. You may or may not know the feeling, but I sure do. It was something I felt often and had a wide variety of 'triggers'.

I'm not sure how long I drove on for, wasn't paying attention to the clock on the computer or radio. I decided to pull over to the side of the road. After putting the Tahoe in park, along with pulling the emergency break, I lean back into my seat. I sat there staring out of the window blankly.

What the hell I'm I supposed to do now? I just got first hand confirmation that aliens do exist, but on the other hand I could give less of a shit. Admittedly, I'm a bit fascinated, but with the world in the state it is I had other priorities. I didn't know if these aliens were hostile or not. For all I know if I had hung around any longer than I did I could probably be dead. They don't know me, I don't know them.

I need some sleep. I can worry about this tomorrow. That is if I don't wake up on a operation table, cut open and being poked at with all sorts of gizmos.

I'm not helping myself cope at all.

I turn off the engine, then reach down to the side of the seat and pull up on a lever. The seat falls back and I take it as far as it would go. Now in a laying position I lift my legs and plant my feet on the steering wheel. The sound of the rain was comforting, but thoughts of that sandy colored alien kept me awake. I wonder how she, along with the rest of her group, ended up on this radioactive rock. Was it by complete accident or did something happen that led them to crashing here of all places.

I'll probably never know, but that didn't bother me. I know where I'm going and I'm not going to allow a bunch of extraterrestrial cats get in my way.

Will I?

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Marcus' Album of Awesome

Charlie Mars

How I Roll (TYR Remix)

Play?

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The storm had passed in the morning, but the grey clouds of nuclear winter still remained, like they always did. I don't remember the last time I saw the blue sky or even the sun. It was probably years ago, months after the nuclear exchange. I remember reading somewhere that it took thirty to one hundred years for nuclear winter to clear up. I'll probably be long dead by then.

The road was wet with radioactive pools of water and more often than not I saw myself avoiding potholes. These roads hadn't seen maintenance in years. I'll have to look into finding some off road tires, but I doubt I'd ever find any. The eight spare tires I had in the back took me a span of three years to gather, give or take a few for repairing this vehicle.

*POP*

“Cunt muffin!" I shout, surprising myself with the sound of my own voice. Of course a tire fucking blows right as I'm thinking about tires. Coming to a stop on the side of the road I put it in park and open the door. Walking around the the right rear side I find that indeed a tire had blown. I open my mouth, ready to embrace my inner Scottish heritage and release a barrage of insults that'd make an old salty sailor blush, but decide against it.

I scan around the area and find nothing but country. Confident no one was around to sneak up on me I pop open the trunk. After a bit of searching I pull out a tool box and jack. Placing the jack under the SUV I use it to lift the vehicle. Taking a wrench from a tool box I got to work with removing the blown tire. I place the bolts that held the rim to its place aside before removing the rim itself. Then with a strained grunt I remove the tire and threw it to the side of the road.

Walking back to the trunk I roll out a fresh tire and guide it to where I needed it. Mustering all the strength I could muster I lift the tire into place. I was a bit winded after that. You would be too if you had to put a tire on a vehicle while wearing heavy gear and being malnourished. After catching my breath I got back to work. Putting the rim back on I started to screw back in the bolts.

As I was screwing in the last bolt I heard something. I snap my head towards the direction it came from, only to find nothing but flat country. Unnerved I didn't go back to work, instead I left my tools there and walked to the other side of the Tahoe as casually as possible. Once I reached the drivers door I lean in and grab the Barrett fifty caliber rifle pointed downwards in the seat. I always kept my most used guns in reach, that's the reason I kept them in the passenger's side.

In hindsight I should have grabbed the M4, but I am still pissed about the tire. So what better way of showing that you were pissed than by firing off a fifty cal?

Deploying the bipod to the rifle I place it on the hood. Aiming at random in the upwards direction I disengage the safety and pull the trigger. The rifle thundered and bucked into my shoulder. It didn't hurt, but I sure as hell felt it. I would have probably shattered the glass to my Tahoe if it wasn't for the armored plating. I wait there for a few minutes for a response. When none came I turn the safety back on and return the rifle back to its resting place.

I pull out the M4 and sling it around my right shoulder. I may have sent my message, doesn't mean that they'll listen. After walking back around to the tire I finish up with screwing the last bolt in place. I pack up the tools and put them back in the trunk. Reaching up I grab the open door a pull it shut. I look around one last time before walking back to the drivers side. I was being watched, that much I know, but by who?

Was it one of those aliens?

Doubtful, unless they actually were cheetahs in humanoid form and could catch up to me. Admittedly I did sleep until around ten and I don't remember how far I drove last night either. I could be only a few miles away from the crash and one of them could have followed me. Maybe the female I encountered?

Meh, whoever it was I'm about to leave them in the dust.

There was a voice from behind me and I physically jumped. Quickly recovering I drew the M&P forty S&W on my police belt and wiped around. There standing just behind the back end of my Tahoe, where I had been moments prior, was the exact alien I saw at the crash, armor and all! They put up their hands again and back away with a non-threatening smile. Meanwhile, I had my sights trained straight on her head.

I sigh while lowering my pistol, but I kept it mid-level just in case. It would seem my alien friend had actually followed me from the crash. For what reason I didn't know. She lowers her hands to her side, where a very large pistol sat. She didn't reach for it however, probably didn't see me as a threat. Would my pistol even make a dent in that armor?

The hard armor is a sandy color mixed in with stripes of green and covered the more vital areas of her body. The space suit underneath was the exact same color and made up the gaps in the armor plating. The assumption it was a space suit was my best guess. It could be a jumpsuit, but the way it was designed reminded me more of a space suit. The colors blended in well with the local environment; dead brown soil and dying plant life.

Looking up to her visor, which was over three feet up, she's looking me over. Her left brow was raised, probably confused by the mix mash of what I had on. Hey lady, it wasn't my choice to look like a firefighter who's ready to wage a war. I don't have the fancy armor you have!

Her brown eyes locked onto my own. I'm no expert in discerning alien emotions, but I'm guessing the look she was giving me was one of concern. I gave her a blank look in return.

Breaking eye contact I turn around and holster my pistol. I start to head back towards the open door of the Tahoe until she said something behind me. An explosive sigh escaped my lips as I turned around. Looking into her eyes again I say, “What do you want from me?"

Her eyes go wide from my voice I assume, which sounded and felt like sandpaper. How long has it been since I actually said a full sentence? I brought my hand up to my throat and rubbed it. Damn that actually hurt a fair bit.

She says something to me, but once again I couldn't understand a lick of it. Her tone sounded friendly, but I'm not exactly sure. I give her a raised brow and a look of embarrassment crossed her face. Did she just now realize I can't understand her? I cross my arms in front of me and wait.

A look of concentration crosses her feline face. It's replaced by a look one would give when an idea crosses their mind. She brings her right arm up and begins to type on what looked like miniature tablet embedded into her armored gauntlet. I wait for her to finish and when she does a blue hued hologram appears. Okay, I'll admit that's awesome.

The hologram displayed my vehicle, which turned around from its current direction and headed back the way it came, towards the crash. It didn't take a genius to guess what she wanted of me. Question is should I? Long ago I would have jumped at the opportunity to help someone in need. Now I was just too cynical to do so. For fuck sake, I ended up shooting about everyone I come across. Not out of spite mind you, out of self preservation and defense.

As the she cat waited for my response I leaned up against the side of my SUV. On one hand I could refuse, but whether or not she would let me go is up for debate. On the other I could do as she asks of me, but then what? What did she truly want with me? My eyes linger to the weapon on her hip. Didn't look like a firearm of any kind, lacking a ejection port. If I were to handle it I would have to use two hands. It could probably punch a decent hole in me too.

Looking back up to her I nod. Fuck it, I don't plan on living that long anyway, might as well do something memorable. Her face physically brightened as she gave me a wide toothy smile. Turning around I climb back into the Tahoe and start the engine. Putting it in drive I do a U-turn in the middle of the road. I find her standing beside the road waiting. I'm not sure how she planned on getting back without a car in any reasonable amount of time.

She began to sprint back down the road. I quickly catch up to her, but she keeps picking up speed. A look of challenge fills her face as she begins to pick up the pace. Soon we're heading over seventy miles per hour down the street. Holy shit she's fast! I'd hate getting in a foot chase with her, I'd get smoked, but in my Tahoe I'd smoke her. That is if this was the fastest she could run. Five minutes later and there was no change to her speed, she didn't even look tired.

Suddenly she begins to slow down. I let go of the gas and begin to slow with her. She points ahead to a ridge, one I found quite familiar. Coming to a stop fifteen feet away from the ridge I shut off the engine. Alright, game plan; if this turns out to be some trick I'm gonna need an escape plan and a tool to do it.

Looking around in my plethora of guns I pull out a Benelli M4 shotgun loaded with slug rounds, had a collapsible stock, and long magazine tube. I'm not sure what it takes to penetrate that armor, but might as well count on a slug. I trust shotguns with my life. You give me a choice between any other type of firearm and a shotgun, I'm going to chose the shotgun in a heartbeat.

After lining my vest with slug shells I climb out of the car. I hold it in my hands, keeping my right index finger above the trigger. The she cat didn't seem all that unnerved by the presence of the firearm. Maybe she knew how little I distrusted them and understood why I'm carrying. If she did then props to her.

I jog over to her and she motions me to follow. Climbing up the ridge I keep the shotgun close to my chest. Once over it I can see that they had set up a small camp around the crash. Odd looking tents, looks like half a radar dish cover put on the ground. There were five more aliens, seemingly waiting for our arrival. Three of them were armored up while two wore space suits of different coloration. One of them wore a black and orange colored one while the other wore a black and navy blue. The armor looks the same with all of them, same dead looking camo too.

One of them, carrying some form of rifle, suddenly begins to lift it towards me. In response I snap my shotgun up and train it on its head. The offender freezes, its gun midway raised. One of the other armored aliens grabs the others rifle and lowers it. I couldn't see their faces from here, but judging by the reaction the one who lowered the rifle is pissed. I can understand why they lifted their weapon on me, I think, but you point a gun at me I'm gonna blow your damn head off.

Hesitantly I lower my scattergun, but kept it shouldered. Looking to my guide I give her a blank stare to which she shyly smiles at. I stare at her for a few more moments, hoping to get the message across, before nodding towards the camp. She goes first and I follow. I trusted these cats as far as I could throw them, which considering their size, isn't far. I don't think I could even lift one of them even if I tried my hardest.

When my guide reunited with her group there was an exchange of words. Unable to understand the language I hung back and waited. Judging by the mix mash of voices there was at least two males in the group and the rest females. When they were finished they all turn their attention to me. I was a bit intimidated, understandably, seeing as it's six three meter tall alien predators against a single two meter tall sickly human.

“All right, I didn't come here to be stared at like I'm one of the fucking wonders of the world. What do y'all want?" I say in my raspy voice, letting a bit of my country tongue slip. God it hurts to say anything.

One of the armored ones approach. Getting a bit too close for comfort I back away a bit. She holds out her hand and says, “Neanneda."

I look at the hand skeptically then look up to the visor. She had much more of a purplish color to her fur, lacking both spots and stripes of any kind, but kept the cream color around the neck. It then dawned upon me that 'Neanneda' is her name.

“Patterson." I say, but do not move to shake her hand. I made my distrust clear to her and she lowers her hand, a small look of disappointment. She then lifted her left arm and began to type on the pad that seemed to be on the wrist of everyone here besides me. A while later a hologram appears displaying a ball of grey. It didn't take long for me to recognize it as Earth. So that's what it looks like from orbit.

Something makes its way on screen, a ship by my guess. Then another one shows up, different from the first, and attacks, each exchanging what I assume as cannon fire. Suddenly the first one cracks open and begins to drift apart. As it did a single speck flies out from it and the hologram zooms in. The object was the same thing as the wreck, just a bit more intact, which now seems to be some sort of escape pod.

The pod flies through the atmosphere and crashes. Then an antenna extends from the back and releases waves meant to represent a distress call by my guess. However, the waves bounce off the grey layer of fallout. The hologram then shows the antenna being removed and displays a small group with the antenna in the middle. The group is made up of seven individuals, one is noticeably shorter too. I assume that's supposed to be me.

The antenna is then loaded into my SUV and brought to higher ground. It then shows the antenna being removed from the Tahoe and set up. Finally the waves break through the fallout barrier and more ships looking like the first ship arrive in orbit.

So these aliens want me to help them get their distress beacon to higher ground so they can call for help. Ironically I was heading for the rocky mountains so that solved the problem of where to go. Now the question is should I even help these aliens. For all I knew I could be spelling the doom of humanity.

What the hell am I talking about? Humanity spelled its own doom.

…

Alright Marcus, you indifferent piece of shit, you're being presented with the chance to make something of your current situation. You could leave these… people, yeah people behind and continue on your fruitless quest to the west, or you could make something of yourself and be of some use to someone. Isn't this what we've strived for for our entire life, a sense of purpose? Ring ring, it's sitting right in front of you on a silver fucking platter! Hell, if it makes you feel better we'll still be going west!

As a war waged inside me Neanneda waited, a patient look across her face. Its then I realized I've been staring into oblivion for the past minute. Mentally hitting myself I look up into Neanneda's blue eyes and nod saying, “Sure, why not?"

This brought a wide toothy grin to her face, exposing her sharp teeth and fangs to me. That's gonna take some time getting used to. She then turns to the rest of the group and announces what I assume my decision was, too which their faces brighten at and turn their attention to me. I nod once before turning around and started heading for the ridge, my guide quickly following me. After unlocking the Tahoe I pop the trunk. I'm not sure where I'm gonna put the antenna, it all depended on its size and if I could fit it. I could stuff it in the back, but depending on how tough it is I may break it.

What the hell was I doing? I just… I… Oh for the love of God what am I doing with my life? I just agreed to help a bunch of ten-foot-tall-cheetah-aliens bring their radio thingy to a mountain so they can call for help. This in turn brings a bunch of attention to Earth and what remains of the human race. Is this really a good thing to do or can I expect to be in chains in the next month or so. Maybe since I helped their people they'll make me a servant or sex slave.

…

Where in the fuck did that come from and why must I always view things in a negative light? Oh wait, now I remember. I'm a negative person who lives on a post-nuclear exchange Earth. Gotten the general idea yet my audience or do I have to push the nuclear war thing even more than I already have?

...

I'm doing it again.

…

“Patterson?" I snap out of my odd state and turn to see my guide standing beside me, a concern look across her face. I wave her off, trying to say nonverbally I was okay. It then dawned upon me that I didn't know her name. Calling her 'my guide' is getting old, I'd rather know who the feline is that led me to this point.

“I never got your name." I say holding a hand out to her. Not in the sense of a handshake, more of an open palmed pointing. She seems confused for a moment before placing her hand against her breast plate and saying, “Kida."

“Kida." I say testing the name. Simple and easy to remember, yet in an odd twist very beautiful, kinda like her… what the fuck? Don't tell me I'm falling for an alien!