A YEAR UNDERFOOT – entry #187

A Year Underfoot


April 10th, 2034

We attacked the alien air base before sunrise on the 7th and I’m happy to report the picnic was a success. In a driving rainstorm, two hundred like-minded survivors descended upon the facility with the sole purpose of wreaking as much havoc as possible, – and with the Threak hunkered down inside, we were able to do just that.

We got the ball got rolling when Dan Ross led a swarm of fifty angry men out of the southeastern foothills and had them set up shop on the eastern edge of the air base. Using improvised mortar launchers and handmade explosives, they targeted the hangars and warehouses along the flight line and were soon dropping round after round into the air base with pinpoint accuracy. Their handcrafted shells tore through the alien structures with ease, – touching off a series of fires that would soon spread from building to building.

While Ross and his crew handled their business, I went after the power grid, unveiling my Threak blaster for the first time. All eyes were on me as I calmly walked up to the three dome-shaped power cells looming in the darkness and pulled the trigger of my pride and joy, and let me tell you, she did not disappoint, – not in the least.

The supercharged round burned through the center of the largest of the three power cells, triggering a chain of explosions that were as spectacular as any Fourth of July fireworks display could ever hope to be. Sparks flew as our spirits soared, and as the gloomy night turned brighter than high noon on a hot summer’s day, a rebel yell rose up from our ranks and filled the night.

I raised a fist in triumph, but my celebration was cut short when a searing blast of charged matter washed over me. I buried my face in my hands to escape the onslaught, but it was too late. My face and hands began to sting and swell, and as I chided myself for standing too close to blast, I looked up at the sky and let the cold, falling rain soothe and satiate my flash-burned skin. Almost immediately, the pain dulled and disappeared and when the swelling began to subside, I let out a huge sigh of relief and thanked my lucky stars I hadn’t been standing any closer.

With the power cells destroyed and the base on life support, I took a second to admire my handiwork before moving on to my secondary target, – a squadron of warbirds lined up wing to wing along the base’s northern border.

I had a thousand yards to cover before the sleek black fighters would fall within range of the blaster and I didn’t have a lot of time to waste. The attack was already beginning to wind down and it wouldn’t be long before the Threak began to stir. I ran across the saturated field, stealing glimpses of the burning base all the while, and when the warbirds finally came within range I dropped to one knee and took aim.

As I was about to pull the trigger, the unmistakable drone of a World War Two era air raid siren cut through the darkness signaling the end of the raid and the beginning of our retreat. And, as my compatriots broke off the attack and took to the hills, I squeezed off a couple dozen rounds in the direction of the warbirds and hoped they’d hit their mark.

When it was all said and done, we’d spent less than a half of an hour attacking the air base, inflicting more damage than we’d ever thought possible. By the time the Threak poked their fuzzy heads out to have a look, we were long gone, but we’d left a burning base as our calling card to let them know we’d dropped by.

Definitely, a good day!



About paul nevins

Fiction writer, reader and baseball fan.
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