FEEDERS

I don’t know if this message will get out, but I have to try. I’m going to write it today, then throw it in the river. So if you’re reading this, I must have succeeded.

Like many of the people here in this government-sponsored camp, I came from a small town. Happenings, TX. Population 560. Well, at least it used to be…before the soldiers came and burned everything down, that is.

What you are about to hear my sound like the ranting and ravings of a madman. But I don’t care. This story must be told!

February 2nd, 2004. Groundhog’s Day. I’ll never forget it. Two reasons. First, it was my best friend’s birthday. And second, it’s the day before I ended up in the shitty hellhole I’m in now. For Christ’s sake! I freaking live in the freest society in the WORLD! How does something like this happen?

Well, like I was saying, it was my best friend’s birthday. He was turning twenty-one. And we had gone all out. From the bakery-made cake. To party-hats, streamers, banners, etc… Oh! And don’t forget the obligatory coming-of-age beer. (Twenty-one is the legal drinking age, you know) We had it all. All the fixings. The night, as they say, was perfect. Except for one thing…

Tom’s dad had asthma really bad. And on that night, of all nights, he had an attack. A really bad one. But please forgive me if I sound callous about the whole thing. Believe me, you’ll soon understand why.

Tom’s dad had started wheezing. Really bad. You know the sound a piece of plastic makes when you put it between your lips and blow really hard? That’s what his dad’s breathing sounded like.

I looked closely at Tom’s dad and noticed that his skin had an unnaturally white, pasty look to it.

Concerned, we took him to a back room of their six-room home. Tom’s family had money. After all, they owned the paper-mill that employed over half the town. Myself, I was a third-generation paper-mill worker. And proud of it.

We sat Tom’s dad on the bed, and my best friend helped him stay in a sitting position. Chest out. It’s easier on the lungs.

I had to go to the restroom, and Tom understood. He told me to hurry back. Just in case he needed me.

I was gone about five minutes. Standing outside the door, I noticed that the room was really quiet. I couldn’t even hear the wheezing anymore.

I walked in. And had I not gone to the bathroom…Lord’s my witness! I would have gone in my pants then and there!

In front of me was a scene out of a low-budget, b-rated science fiction movie. Tom’s dad was butt-naked. But that’s not what held my attention.

His head, at least it was where his head used to be, had somehow opened completely up. I saw row-upon-row of razor-sharp six-inch fangs! And these were attached to the front of Tom’s face!

As I looked on, sick to my stomach, the thing fed noisily. I heard loud slurping, ripping, and tearing sounds. Before my eyes, Tom’s body deflated like a balloon.

But then, it got even weirder. (And frankly, I was, at that time, completely paralyzed by fear!) The dad-thing dropped Tom’s now empty skin. Its butt enlarged, and it began to shit out a brand-spanking new version of Tom! Except this Tom was wheezing… and had unnaturally white, pasty skin.

The Tom-thing smiled at me! Bathroom or no, a wet stain spread down my pants-leg!

Slamming the door, I hightailed it out of there! I ran to the front, where the other guests were, to warn them! But when I got there…

I had to blink to be sure I wasn’t seeing things. Half the guests had that same, unnaturally white, pasty look, and were beginning to wheeze!

Forgetting my noble intentions, I hauled ass getting out of that house! Shit! I was leaving town!

I jumped into my KIA Sportage. Squealing tires and flying gravel marked my departure. For a little while, I was safe. Or so I thought.

Bright lights flashed in my face. I slammed on the brakes. Skidding nearly thirty feet before I came to a halt. In front of me were government soldiers. I was forced from my vehicle at gunpoint.

A soldier passed a scanning device over my body.

“He’s clean.”

I asked him what he meant by “clean”, but the soldier never responded.

They then herded me and a handful of others into a van. It was crowded. In every eye, I saw fear. The door slammed.

“What’s going on?” I asked someone close to me.

The guy, I think it was Freddy, the general store owner, said, “I overheard some soldiers talking about some sort of alien invasion.”

“Invasion my ass!” I said. “Those didn’t look like any damn aliens to me.”

“But who really knows what an alien looks like?”

I didn’t respond. He had a point.

“A soldier said we’ll be taken to a camp.”

“What for?”

“Something about worldwide panic if people found out.”

“So they are keeping this under wraps?” I asked.

Old Freddy just looked at me. Then he looked away. “They could have just burned the whole town down while we were in it.”

Oddly enough, that night in the van was the last time I saw Freddy. But it’s okay. I’m not alone. There are people from other small towns here. Some of which I have become good friends with.

I know you may think I’m crazy, but I’m not. To prove it, go see if you can find Happenings, TX. Even better, look for corporate records on the Happenings, TX paper-mill. Owned by Tom’s family. The Dodderings.

Oh! One more thing. There’s a disturbing rumor floating around that these things are not aliens, as we’ve been led to believe. They are called Feeders. Some are saying that they are government super-soldiers. Genetically altered human beings bred for one purpose. To kill.

Rumors say that these things live for 48 hours. Each one can consume ten people in that time…with each of the offspring, shit-people, being able to do the same. One…ten…one hundred…you get the picture. In no time they could wipe out a city. A country for that matter.

Like I told you before I started, this sounds like the ranting and ravings of a madman. But I assure you, it is true. So if anyone you know becomes unnaturally white, has pasty skin, and starts wheezing, get the hell out of there! But please! I beg you! Please get the truth out!
Sincerely,
Avery Johnson
Formerly of Happenings, TX
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The General looked at the letter given to him by the soldier. He sighed.

“Go find Avery Johnson. It’s time for him to have an accident.”

The soldier saluted, then left.

The End.