A Year Underfoot

July 9th, 2033

I managed a couple of hours of sleep this afternoon. It’s the first bit of shut-eye I’ve gotten in quite a while and when I woke, I felt like a new man. A quick bite to eat and I’ll be ready to move out.

A light rain has been falling for the better part of an hour, – not enough to douse the fires, but it may serve to slow the enemy down a bit. In any case, the rain is a welcome sight. The wind is blowing onshore and the inclement weather makes me feel safe. With any luck a nice storm front will blow in and hide me for a while. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Hello, Poseidon, are you listening?

The goal for tonight is to break from the coast and skirt east of the Naval Weapons Air Station at Point Mugu. The base lies dead ahead, eight miles south of Oxnard, – close to sixteen miles from my current location. Being that the facility housed both missile and satellite operations in the past, I’m sure it was one of the first places that got hit, – and if the Threak were landing troops, it would be one of the first places they’d secure.

I’m giving that place a wide berth.

If I make it through Oxnard by daybreak I’ll be a happy man.

On a different note, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of anyone else since early yesterday morning. I can’t help but wonder how many of us there are left. I know they went after the large cities and the military installations, but what about the small towns and outlying areas? How did they fare? I have no idea.

Communication is nonexistent and I’m afraid it’s going to be that way for quite some time.



About paul nevins

Fiction writer, reader and baseball fan.
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