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This is the first few chapters of this book which is complete and can be found on Amazon or Patreon at i.jones profile ($3/mo for total access to all material). The Patreon has multiple completed books including two more in the Varkari universe and others.
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I had a terrible feeling in my gut. It weighed my bones down and made my hands tremble as I searched through dusty cupboards, my heart leaping when my feet scuffed or scraped the once-clean floors of this house. The broken windows allowed nature in and even me, but I doubted I would find any nourishment here.
Closing the last cupboard as quietly as I could, I decided to get out. It had been three years of this. Three years of scrounging around in the wreckage of a world that had been so easy to live in. Now, every day was a struggle.
The Varkari had descended upon the planet about four years ago, and initially they had been peaceful. People took their arrival much better than anticipated, but we had been prepped with movies and Area 51 for years, right? World governments eagerly met with them to discuss the condition of the planet and to barter knowledge and technology for something precious to the aliens. Women.
When word got out that they wanted women, human women, we were shocked. Some were terrified and some were angry that those in power even considered such a trade. Protests with posters and picket signs turned into mobs attempting to storm the areas where they landed to meet and collect any women who wanted to volunteer. But that was just it, women who wanted a new chance at life or something exotic signed up and that had to be respected, too.
It seemed like once they got a taste for our own, they became voracious and the news channels played videos of more ships landing every day until they had created a base of sorts. They assembled a small city, right on the outskirts of Chicago, a hub of human activity and heavily populated.
The UN met frequently to discuss developments, planning to assimilate them into our economies if they desired, hoping to set up trade. America, with its oversized military, was threatened, and repeatedly voted to end their permission to stay if they did not fully share their weaponry. As expected, politicians inflamed conservatives, bugling that they were a threat to the country and constitution and would soon take every firearm away to disable them. Of course, the Varkari had never suggested such things, but what better to instigate a battle than a bunch of riled-up, armed protestors? And that’s exactly what they did.
A huge group of men, decked in militia gear with hand-painted signs, brought their AR-15s, Berettas, shotguns, and pistols ready to use. If the Varkari didn’t leave right then, they would kill every last alien piece of filth. So when a squad of four Varkari soldiers exited their compound to discuss terms with the men, what did they do? Immediately open fired.
The bullets did no damage and the Varkari returned inside, and that was too scary for the American government. It didn’t matter that not one human died that night, the fan was covered in shit. They made us look bad. On the anniversary of their first contact, the US military attempted to overwhelm them, afraid of what could happen and greedy to take control of the most advanced tech on the planet.
The Varkari had footage of the entire thing, US soldiers parachuting in, tanks trying to blast holes in their walls, and the aliens eliminated every last one. That sure was threatening, wasn’t it? Russia and China both sent in their own teams which was trespassing and that stirred the world pot. Tensions continued to rise and before we knew it, someone had hit a red button. Smaller bombs ricocheted off the alien shields, scattering into the Chicago suburbs. Evacuations turned to highway wrecks and riots. The situation just snowballed from there.
It started a bloody war that put the first two World Wars to shame. Missiles screamed through the air and the ground constantly tremored with miniature earthquakes from the explosions. The Varkari retaliated when provoked, but were so much more effective. Anything heavy shot at them had been redirected back down onto our own cities. There was no negotiation.
I still remembered the chilling broadcast a few days before the internet went down, a voice that gave me goosebumps all over. “...shown us that humans require direction and cannot be trusted to peacefully negotiate…Submit. Or die.” Something like that anyway. Then they redeployed their ships and began to take control of major cities. And why not? When you were almost seven feet tall super soldiers, you could damn well do whatever you wanted.
Some women, fearing for their lives, had traveled to their city to “submit”, and every last one was taken in. Sheesh, with that voice, I wanted to submit, too, just to avoid getting turned to ash inside my home. It would have been better for me that way.
There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide really, because even cockroaches got caught scuttling into corners when the lights were turned on. There were only brief hiding places. Like shelters and churches that had opened their doors to survivors. Too bad those had all been traps.
I would know, because I fell for it, too.
