A post-apocalyptic thingamajig. Mutants, monsters, mystery and maybe someday a resolution.

Sometimes I just have to get away.
    I climbed the one thousand two hundred and thirty eight stairs to the top of the Babel Club. The scuff of my shoes and creak of the railing like the reassurance of an old friend. The roof opened suddenly from the half-ruined building. I stepped to the edge and looked out. Over the last twisted, broken vestige of humankind. Over my home.
    Thirty years ago there was a war. The War. That war the experts in the twentieth century warned us about. They said “Nuclear Holocaust”, and warned of atomic fires that nothing stopped and a winter that never ended.
    They were wrong.
    Only one missile was fired; by some jumpy, over-militarized pseudo-nation. The kind of country that none of the other countries invited to parties because they just knew that he'd get all nervous trying to look manly in front of the cute third world countries and throw up in the punch.
    The problem came when the missile never landed. No one knows if they'd been experimenting with new weapons technology or if there was some unforeseen reaction to a random storm or if the missile launch was even related to what happened next. A hole opened in the sky over Asia, and things started pouring out. Things with too many eyes and shapes with too many sides that made your whole being ache to look at. They made short work of the resistance in Asia and Europe, then came Africa and Australia. Finally, North and South America where reduced to a smoldering wasteland. It took one month. One month to turn the whole human race, proud and civilized, into shivering cave dwellers with nothing left but sticks and rocks to fight back with.
    Then the really disturbing part happened. They left.
    No communication, no cease-fire, no warning. Just gone. I've heard stories from old resistance fighters, soldiers, who say they disappeared mid combat, just stopped, turned sideways and vanished. Like this was some sort of horrific vacation and they were afraid of not making their flight home.

The End

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