THEM (Book One)

Chapter One

    In the wasteland of what was once called Los Angeles, a solitary truck streaked across what was once a freeway. It looked like it had seen better days and the engine sputtered as it went. It appeared as if it had been hit and nearly crushed by other vehicles and was soon to come a lost relic of the wasteland, joining all the rest. Inside a young man with short black hair, cropped short for practicality, and the beginnings of a beard growing on his face, sat in the driver's seat.  He was a simple high school student when everything happened. Though it had only been a matter of years, it seems like the time before was a lifetime ago.

    For Brock Reiner, the day started like any other. He got up, got dressed and went to school. He was in first period when people started to complain about strange issues with the net. Half of pretty much everything was down, and the other half was claiming fantastical things. Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, it was already too late. 

    Some kind of alien fleet had arrived in orbit and began to blast everything to smithereens. Brock did not hesitate when things started to go to Hell. He knew there was a military bomb shelter on the edge of town. So he piled as many of his friends as he could into his car and drove there. It had worked, as the aliens continued to destroy everything. Only people like him and others that got underground had survived.

    It seemed the aliens wanted our world not for our technology, not for our resources, but for the planet itself. Humanity was nothing more than vermin to be stomped out and now that it was next to destruction, the aliens were moving in. Brock and the few survivors that were left came back onto the surface, struggling to survive and hang on to what was left of their sanity.

    Brock drove through the open waste. He was driving an old truck which he used to scavenge supplies. He had just had a run in with an automated alien drone and the truck had barely made it out. The truck was not able to withstand that level of damage and he was lucky to get out with as much left as he did. He looked back at his crushed and mangled truck and knew that it was very likely beyond fixing. 

    He had to take a chance. He had to go to one of the scavenger areas and in hopes that he could find a replacement. Brock prided himself at being good at surviving. There were old junkyards and part storage places, but this was where the highest concentration of aliens waited. They had little use for the old stuff, mostly just using it as bait to lure the human survivors out of hiding. It was one hell of a risk, but he decided that he had to take it.

    He knew that it was unlikely that he could drive his truck into this place without getting unwanted eyes upon him but the truck made the final decision for him. It broke down. Its engine giving up the ghost and finally deciding to die. He managed to coast the truck into a rocky area so no one would easily find it and got out. He still had a lot of equipment and supplies in the truck and he would come back for it, if he survived. He set off on foot toward the place, he was unarmed, using his truck mostly to fight and survive, now he would have to rely on his instincts.

    After close to an hour, and as the sun set along the ragged horizon, he got to the edge of the concrete graveyard. Beyond he saw grand piles of parts and pieces and could hear the inhuman howls and growls of the denizens within. He put his hands on his hips, taking a deep breath to ready his nerves before he went. This was not going to be easy and he knew it. 

    He stowed everything on him that might make noise, knowing that the slightest sound would alert the aliens to his presence. He headed out slowly, moving carefully on the bleached concrete terrain. He did not know why he kept taking risks, but he saw people who were careful and people that were bold die all the same. He figured it was better to die doing something than to be killed cowering.