Alien Apocalipse? Seriously?!

Three weeks hospitalization after the disaster was both too long and not long enough. They kept me drugged hard. I know because I have snippets of awareness where I am sure I killed someone in this hospital. My terror, my pain, my… anguish… just too much to bear to be coherent. I know I am too wounded to be let out, but I feel trapped. I know I must have shifted form or at the very least, something showed up in my bloodwork that told them I was not human. I have been here too long. My secrets leak from me with every passing day. Just moving is painful.

Then no one showed up. I mean really, no one. No one came to check me. No one arrived to change my bandages that really needed changing last night. No one added drugs to the fluids dripping into me. No one even changed my fluids bag which is empty. I woke with a scream ripped right from my gut as I became aware of how much I hurt. I could shift form and lick myself healed, can’t I? No… I was in a hospital. I had to keep some of my secrets. Where were people? I breathed slowly, ramming my pain and panic somewhere deep inside, allowing training to resurface and refocus me. I might as well consider myself in enemy territory. Instinct told me to run. Orders told me to stay put and heal and then report. Instinct won out.

I ripped the tubes from my body and lurched from the hospital bed mentally cursing about the icy floor, chilly room air and total indecency of the hospital gown that wasn’t even tied up in the back. With effort I searched for cameras in my room. Yes, of course there was one. I needed to leave. I flipped the finger at the camera for good measure for leaving me like this and headed into the hall looking for my clothes and belongings. From previous missions, I remember what the procedure was and headed to a supply room. Every nerve on edge since the whole floor seemed devoid of personnel. I found the room, but my own clothing was uselessly destroyed by the explosions and chemicals that have damaged my body. I blacked out. I know I did since I woke sprawled embarrassingly on the supply room floor. I needed a doctor. I needed help. Where the hell were they? I needed to get my medical file and erase evidence of myself. I dressed in whatever clothing would fit me here and smiled to find my weapons gear and the klaive in a box. I checked the gun and holstered it. I should take it to that guy… what was his name? Jeff… Jeff Schmidt. It might have been damaged in the blasts I got caught in. Chicago… I would have to go to Chicago. One thing at a time. My files. I find a satchel, messenger bag, and dump the contents. I stuff the paper trail of my existence into it from my room to the reception desk. The computer is still logged in, so I creatively adjust my files. Erasing would be too conspicuous. My superiors will likely think worked on training and made a break for it.

I stuffed some medical supplies into the satchel, bandages, ointments I might need, codine. Then I shoves some other random medical supplies and drugs in there just in case. Who knows, they might be handy. The hospital is almost entirely empty. I few occupied beds with patients too ill or wounded to move. Several of them were dead; the rest would be in a day or so. I still didn’t know what the hell was going on. The hospital was abandoned. Then I saw it on a lounge room TV.

EVACUATE

Evacuate? Why? It was a national message. That happens in case of apocalyptic events or huge natural disasters. I look out a window to get my bearings. CHICAGO! Someone was kind to me just a little. Chicago at night… I can make a good escape. My den is not too far and I have contacts here. I pat the klaive as if it had a hand in making sure I ended up here. Then I blink and look out the window again.

Lights… flashing lights in the sky.

Does anyone remember that film with Denzel Washington? It was called Independence Day. It looked like that outside. Alien … spaceships…

So this is an alien apocolypse? Seriously? I wondered if I was just hallucinating. I purposely poked one of my more wounded parts of myself and nearly blacked out with a cry of pain. Nope. Not a hallucination. Aliens. The city evacuated because we are being invaded by aliens. Well shit! And I thought I would be the strangest discovery the government made this year.

I checked my comm that was with my gear. You know, just in case. It is habit when on a mission to check it for updates in the mission. Look for the codes for recall and retreat. There was a coded message. I read the code without need for any decoding. It is just a knack.

Silent Strider. If you live and get this, evacuate. You know where to find medical help. Get it. You are needed back on duty as soon as you are able. Do not get captured by those aliens.

Seriously? Seriously. For once, orders and Instinct were the same… for the moment, except for that part about returning to duty. The back of my mind told me that the last mission was a trap meant just for those of us who can shift form. And I guess the government knows some of what I am now and figures I can be a weapon against these aliens. Fuck that! I am done being their pawn. I need more information. I no longer trust them.

I made my escape into the night. Aliens above me looming like the end of the world. I would like to think I am badass like Denzel… but I am too wounded to be cool right now. Glad I stole the medical supplies in excess. I will use them as black market trade. Time to find Patrick… before I collapse in some disease infested gutter and die from infection.