by Anthony Puyo
There’s so many things I want to say. I know it’s been three years since the incident, but the memories, both good and bad, shouldn’t be forgotten. I doubt they ever will, for the people who survived.
I guess there’s a part of me that still needs some kind of closer; though I’m not certain if I will fully receive it, or if anyone will for that matter. Maybe we shouldn’t. All that remains of the ones who were lost, is what is in our memories. Even the shameless ones.
I understand what we’re being told. But the thought of an alien race unleashing a weapon so vile, to distort our conscious mind, as an experiment; boggles my mind. It disgusts me, then again, is it any different than what we do, or what we use to do anyways? Maybe the aliens weren’t too different from us; we used chimps, they used humans.
Who knows if the government, NASA, or anyone will know if that is the real reason why they did it, or why they stopped, or even worse, will they come back to finish job.
All we’ll know for sure, is how it affected us. It brought the best and worst out of all. Even writing you this letter, I feel something has to be said about those who I knew. Those who risked their lives. Those who died.
I’ll start with Melissa. She was a soft hearted woman. A loving wife and an even better mother. Ryan reminds me of her every day. He use to cling on her all the time, and she would cling back. He does that to me now, and though I’m not his real mother, I still feel the joy. Even if it’s just ten percent of the love he gave her, I’m so happy to receive it, and I don’t want to do anything she wouldn’t have done for him. It’s the least I could do for her and that family.
Ryan’s father, Craig, oh what could I say. He was a man of undying love who stopped at nothing to reunite with them. His valor was an inspiration to us all. I remember how it lifted all our spirits when we were in that oily garage. He was the most common of men, but he found it in himself to be more—to be a hero for his loved ones. His son reflects him in his own bravery, as he has done his best in regard to his situation. He would have made them proud.
Bodo was the heart. He fought for us, for what was right, and he did it with so much passion. In a lot of ways, he reminded me of pops. He always made us feel safe, and always made us feel we had a chance. I only hope he found his paradise. I will never forget him.
Charlie was a cross between Bodo, Craig, and Chet. I didn’t know him that much, but I could tell he was a good man. He thought the world of Craig. Maybe he saw something in him that was missing in himself. If Bodo was our heart than Charlie was our blood. Him and Bodo got us through the tough times for sure.
Chet, is a good-ol’-boy as he would probably refer to himself. I can tell you this, Mom, there was no shortage of strong willed men in our group. Ryan still refers to him as uncle Chet, and it’s a good thing. We always said we were family, and Chet was, and is a big proponent of that. The cowboy made his way back to Iowa and since has gotten married. For a third time :). We still keep in contact, but we rarely talk of the past.
Jason, I was worried for, but he’s okay. He went home hoping to find his grandma. We didn’t tell him, but most of us didn’t believe she would be alive. Remarkably, she had survived. Come to have it, she was a prepper and her basement was filled with supplies. Enough to last for years. Ironically, she had all of that and Jason had no clue. It was a heartfelt reunion I could imagine. I haven’t seen him for a while, but I will never forget the day he rescued me. He will always have a special place in my heart.
Devin was a good kid. He went missing the day Bodo and some of the others went to get us some supplies. It was horrible that we never found out what happened to him at the time. It wasn’t till recently; I saw his name under the deceased on the monument the city put up. God bless his young soul.
Jack, the pilot, wasn’t the most popular. Some felt it was his fault we had our run in with the insane Captain Robert Hawks, and his New America regime, but I know different. His intentions were good. He had no idea things would turn out the way they did. We didn’t know too much about him, and I’m not sure he’ll be remembered by anyone else, regardless, I feel everyone deserves to, so I will.
Isabell is doing fine, she just got a job where I work. She seems timid to some, but that girl is as tough as nails. She lost all of her immediate family. It’s a sad tale. She went through other heinous things that I don’t want to ever rehash, even in my own mind. She survived it all, and she’s doing well. She keeps me updated on her life fairly often. I feel she sees me as an older sister, and I don’t mind being that for her.
As for Rose and her daughter, Violet, they moved out of this town. I think it had too many bad memories for them. Violet keeps in touch with Ryan on Friendbook. Last he told me, they were heading towards Arizona. My prayers go out to them. Ryan doesn’t say it, but whenever he gets a letter, a text, an email from her, his face glows. I think he has a crush on her, but like I said, he will never let mama know that.
Last, but not least, there’s the great mystery known as Dockery James, or simply Doc. He chose to go his own way from the hospital, but not till he helped us get out. I went to see if his name was on the Monument Stone, but it wasn’t. I know he was from here, so my instincts tell me he’s still around—if not here, he’s definitely alive somewhere. That’s a good thing. The world needs more Dockery James’.
I know shortly after we got back to the city, other survivors had stories of a mysterious man who would appear like a shadow, and help them while they were in dire situations. They say he didn’t talk much, and he had an afro. I have my suspicions. Maybe it was Doc out there, still looking for his destiny as he once told us.
The only reason that I’m going to mention this, is because I saw his name on the Honored Soldier Stone. It’s sad America will never know the truth, but like so many things, maybe its best unrevealed. I saw the inglorious Captain Hawks on the Monument. It at least brought closure that the madman had died. I don’t know how. One can only guess it was by one of his many enemies he had made. And if I’m right, the person that did him in, must have had plenty of courage. The only certain thing I can attest to, is America had two futures: one with Hawks, and the other without him. I’m sure the ladder was for the best.
Till now, I can’t decide who was more a monster. The aliens for what they did, the infected for how they were, the non-infected who turned like monsters; trying to survive over others, or Hawks, who conscientiously chose to be evil; even when better paths were in front of him.
As for Ryan, I haven’t spoken a word to him about what really happened to his parents. People say you should always be honest to one another. If there was ever an exception to that rule, I believe this is it. I just don’t see the gains of telling him, and it’s apparent, he doesn’t have any recollection of what happened on that fateful day. I thought he would somehow remember in dreams or in some kind of subconscious revelation, but he hasn’t. God bless for that.
It seems whatever came over him, and so many others while they were in the trance, hacked by electrical and sound impulses as the government says, came from a part of the brain that seems to have no memory or conscience. The brainwaves of electricity and sound that affected them, put them in another state. A state of darkness and evil. The memories still give me chills.
Well, Mom, Ryan will be coming home from school soon, and the mail man should be here any minute. I will be writing to you again shortly. It’s been a good help for me. A sort of therapy. I love you, and I know you love me.
I also know up in the mountains you don’t watch television, not because you can’t, but because you still think it was our own addiction to electronic devices that caused all the trouble. But I’m going to leave you with this, because you asked me in your last letter.
Someone asked the question to the government, the one you wanted to know. “Why did the infected want to kill us?” Well they answered that, Mom. The answer I know will be too simple for some to understand, but I do. The government responded to the question by stating: T
he infected were quite simply—compelled to do it.