Giant Nazi Spiders

This is the true story of the conquest and the absorption of Planet Earth into the galactic Empire. It is also the true history of the founding of the resistance. I am the founder of the resistance and have been battling the Spiders for 25 years. I am an old man now, almost 85 years old and I am ready to retire and live out the rest of my life. First, I must tell the truth – about what happened and why. I cannot rest in final peace until the real story is told. This is that story.

The day the world as we knew it ended over 25 years ago. It all started on a fine spring morning in April just 15 years after the turn of the century. Before the week was over the Earth the Spiders had conquered the Earth and incorporated it into the Galactic Empire. Many of you were alive. Most of you do not remember when humanity was free and the Spiders were not our masters. When the invasion happened, many of your family and loved ones perished during the first invasion - some say 200 million, others 300 million but the truth is that the Spiders rounded up and executed over two billion human beings, mostly from the old elites who were expected to oppose the takeover.

25 years ago, I had just retired from my position in the U.S. Foreign Service. The U.S. Foreign Service comprised diplomats who worked overseas promoting American interests. I had worked in over 10 different countries before retiring. I celebrated by taking five months off and hiking the Pacific Crest trail starting on the Mexican Border and moving towards Canada.

For those of you who do not know the old place names of the world as it was, California was a state that stretched along the west coast of “Continent One.” San Diego was a City about 150 Galactic kilometers south of the old City of Los Angeles, - Capital City under the Spider’s nomenclature. California was an important state among the 50 States (political subdivisions) of the United States of America. The U.S.A. was the most important of the old countries and was a superpower. Mexico and Canada were two other countries that shared the North American Continent with the U.S.A.

Most of you probably do not remember when the world was filled with countries and filled with States and cities, and each country was different, with different languages and customs. Nowadays under the Spiders, everything is boring, bland and the same and few remember the old languages and customs.

I had been planning the trip for several years and had finally convinced my life-long friend, William, to join me. Will was an actor but never quite made a big time. I also had not made a big time, and had retired after I reached the mandatory retirement age. We were both somewhat bitter old men. Nevertheless, I was looking forward to the adventure. Just the two of us with no phones, no nets, no electronic devices of any kind. Just two old men hiking the Pacific Crest trail while they could still do it.

April 10th, 9 a.m. I arrived in San Diego from my home in Berkeley, where I was to hook up with Will. I left the airport and caught a taxi to the hotel where we were going to meet up. Will had been in town for a few days, getting supplies etc. He had just finished his last movie shooting and was in a sour mood. Movies in those days were a big business and were a very popular form of entertainment. Like many other things, few people have seen the old-style movies, which are a thousand times more interesting than the entertainment shows on the Galactic TV system. In addition, they use real actors rather than computer generated programs. How boring.

I arrived at the hotel lobby and saw Will had arrived already and was having breakfast. I walked up to him and gave him our usual greeting as befits friends who had known each other since first grade.

“So, Will, how’s it feels? You’d done your last shoot. Man, oh, Man, I am looking forward to this adventure. Let’s get going, man.”

“Jake, chill out, dude. Have something to eat, and then we roll. I’m done, man, never made it quite but hey, I never waited for no tables, man.”

“Hell, no, and I did not become Ambassador {highest diplomatic rank in the old world} Jake. You’ve got the maps, packs, food, water, and stuff, right?”

“Yeah, and you got some cash, {old style paper money} and your gear all to go, right?”

“Yeah, I’m cool. Hmm. That’s looks good. I’ll get some food, then we head out.”

We ate our breakfast, got caught up on things, paid our bills, and loaded up the car. {Old style personal gas-powered vehicle – almost everyone had one in those days} We left San Diego, heading southeast toward the town of Campo and the Mexican-US trailhead, on a wonderful Spring day, blue sky, light 70’s, (old temperature) a bit of a breeze, not too much air pollution or smog as we used to call it.

The Pacific Crest trail was part of the old Pan American trail. We had originally planned to take a whole year off and travel the entire trail, but decided that the Central American and South American portions of the trail were too dangerous, as highwaymen infested the trails, robbing and sometimes killing hikers. The U.S. trail was relatively safe, but we were packing armor, stun guns, and gas canisters, just to be on the safe side. The most dangerous part of the trail was near the border as “coyotes” (humans who worked trafficking other humans into the U.S.A. to seek illegal employment) took illegal workers in disguised as hikers. Moreover, they sometimes stopped real hikers for “donations and, of course, if you did not donate you were likely to become a statistic – just another dead hiker in the dessert. The Pacific Crest trail, although in very bad shape, still exists and is used mostly by smugglers, other criminal elements, and the resistance (triads) as a supply route. Still very dangerous!

We reached the trailhead about 11:30 a.m. We met our old friend, John Paul Jones, at the trailhead. John was 45 years old, a strong, African-American muscle-bound guy who worked out every morning. John was an ex-marine that I had met at a previous posting when he was the Embassy Gunnery Sergeant. (The Marines served as security guards for official diplomatic missions overseas). He was based in Los Angeles and frequently hung out with both of us. John was going to drive along and meet up with us at designated times to deliver messages, supplies and to give us rides to towns where we can go to a hotel, get a shower, food, and perhaps meet some women. Will had never married and my spouse had decided to let me have a final adventure without her constant company. She would meet us along the way mid-way and at the end, but she was not a big fan of the outdoors having had enough of it during her military career.

We got out gear up, did a final check to ensure that the tent {old-fashioned portable housing unit that one could carry in a backpack} worked; that the flashlights had batteries; that we had all the supplies divided up between the two of us; that the packs and boots fit well. We were ready. We made our goodbyes to John, and arranged to meet up in seven days’ time, in the town of Anza, {now a ghost town} on highway 74 along the Pines-Palms Springs highway (old highway that went deep into the dessert – still used as a major smuggler route for the anti-Spider resistance forces, the triads).

The day before the world ended went by peacefully for us. We were obvious as we were off the net, offline, cut off from cell phones, papers, newscasts of all sorts. We just wanted to hike in the woods and lose ourselves. Little did we know what was to transpire. Later that day, we came to a stream by a lake high up in the mountains and decided to camp out for the night. We set up camp, and went fishing and took a swim. We went to bed early, after smoking some dope. A {illegal drug that was commonly used in those days}. We stayed up late talking shit about our past lives, the mistakes we had made and things we had regretted doing.

The next morning, we got up early before sunrise and began our second day on the trail. In the rest of the world, the dawn broke with the arrival of the Spiders and Day One of the revolutions had started with executions of world leaders televised all over the planet. We were unaware of the end of the world, as we knew it.

Later I often thought that because we missed the beginning of the invasion we were somehow immune to the brainwashing and propaganda and able to see clearly what had transpired. Certainly, when we found out what had transpired while we were in the woods it was an eerie feeling.

We hiked for hours and hours and the sun got hotter and hotter, bearing down on our naked backs. We took a long lunch break and headed out the trail before breaking for camp along with another little stream we had found. So far, our trail maps had proven accurate to a T. We figured we had covered 25 hours in a little less than two days. We spent the night again talking about our past life and what we had done and about what the future would bring to us as retirees.

Day 3 took us out into the high desert region east of San Bernardino, and west of the Inland Empire, again to use the old nomenclature. This is where we expected to run into “coyotes” and other criminal elements. All day we hiked along the trail, and never ran into another human being, which was unusual, as you would normally have run into another hiker, and maybe some illegals or border patrol types. This part of the trail was high-mountain desert and deserted though, so we although we thought it unusually deserted, we were not too worried, yet.

About 2 pm, we crossed a highway, not a major road but still a road, and we were surprised to see no traffic at all. {In those days, many people traveled by personal vehicles unlike the situation now where most people travel by bus or train and the only other vehicles on the road are official vehicles}. Nothing seemed to be moving. Will and I were a bit disturbed by the silence, and vowed to walk into the next town to see what was going on. A half an hour later, we decided to keep going until we would meet John on day 7 as we ascended into the Anza basin area.

Day 4 dawned and we continued our rambles through the high desert trails, oblivious to the fact that the world as we knew it had ended two days before. We did not know what had transpired and may have been the only people in the State of California so oblivious. We walked all day through the high desert mountains and enjoyed ourselves. We made less time as we stopped for a long lunch and nap when the weather hit 100 degrees F. (50 degrees Galactic standard).

Day 5 dawned quiet and peaceful. Too peaceful, perhaps. After hiking for a few hours, we entered a Forest Service Camping area and came upon a log cabin that was recently evacuated. {In the old days, the forests were managed by the Forest Service, which also operated some vacation home areas. These homes, available for rent, were rustic old-fashioned houses made of logs. Nowadays, of course, the forests are largely deserted except for the occasional prisoner work gang.}

It looked as if the people had run off suddenly. The door was blown off, and all the supplies were strewn about. There were footprints in the sand, but the footprints were not quite right. Some of them looked as if Giant eight-legged creatures had made them, others looked as if some strange two-legged creatures had made them and humans made others. In any event, the cabin was deserted. There were no cars nearby and it looked as if the camping ground had been hastily evacuated. Normally, you would expect to see a few people using these cabins on a nice Spring day like that one.

There was a piece of paper stuck on the door, with a snippet of a headline as if from a newspaper article, “Long Live the Revolution. This House has been Declared Sanitized for the Revolution. All Unauthorized Humans Have Been Processed for Reeducation. Thanks to the Glorious Leadership of the Kan. Long Live the Emperor” There were also letters in a strange alphabet that neither Will nor I could recognize. Between the two of us we had the passing familiarity with the script of about 25 languages.

Will and I walked on speculating at what we had just seen and vowing to wander into a town soon to check out what was going on. We decided to camp out near the camping ground, in hopes of finding out more information. We found a cabin that was in relatively good shape and enjoyed sleeping in beds for a change and having a real stove to cook on. The electricity was out but the water still worked a bit and the gas-powered stove also worked. We also enjoyed showers. We stayed up late speculating about what was going on and debating whether we should make a phone call or two but finally decided not to but to wait until we met John in a few days.

Day 6 dawned cold and wet. It was if the heavens were upset at us. It was the quite unusual weather for that time of year. We made breakfast and speculated all morning over what was going on. Around 11 a.m., we came upon a gruesome sight. We saw a pack of wild dogs eating what appeared to the corpse of the elderly white man. We scared the dogs off by firing some stun guns at them. We walked up to the old man, who was still alive, but barely. He appeared to have been shot and was bleeding to death, and both his legs had been eaten off by the feral dogs. We asked him his name, and what had happened. He looked at us and croaked out his final words, “The Giant Space Alien Spiders are coming over the hill. Beware.” Then he lay down and died.

We decided we had better move on after burying the old man in the ground. We took his wallet in hopes we could find his next of kin and let them know what had happened. I made a notation on my laptop as to the exact location we buried him for future reference and I noted the location of the campground as well. I was tempted to go online but Will suggested waiting until we got to a more secure location. Whatever the Spiders where we did not want to run into them unprepared.

That night we decided to break our vow of not using technology and decided to try to make a phone call to John. I had brought a cell phone with me but had kept it turned off. I turned it on and tried to raise John on the phone. After repeated attempts, I reached him.

“John, man,” “what’s going on? Are we still on for Sunday at 11 am?”

“Jake, man, where the fuck is you?”

“We’ll still on the trail, about 30 miles from the meeting point.”

“Jake, hang up the phone. They can find you. You don’t want to be found. Believe me. I am still free, but I have been running. Stay low, out-of-sight and I’ll see you in two days on Sunday afternoon. We’ll meet as we arranged. Your wife is missing as well but I’ll try to find her and bring her along. I’ll explain everything then. Don’t risk another call.”

Will and I sit down, look at each and start talking again about the weirdness we have been experiencing.

“Will, what the heck is going down? What did John mean by they can find you? You don’t want to be found? Who the hell are they?”

“Jake, man, maybe they the same Spider dudes that wiped out the cabin guys. I mean, there was some serious shit going down there. And the dogs eating an old man. I mean when did that ever happen? And we have not seen a single human being since we started hiking. And, why was there no traffic on the highway? What the fuck is going down?”

“Something evil is going down, Will, my friend. Moreover, that means we have better keep our wits about us. I think we should take turns staying up tonight. I’ll take the first watch.”