Caitlyn's+Group

__ The Howl of the Storm __

The snow silently fell to the Earth, creating soft white blankets tailored specifically to the contour of the surrounding environment. Orion 237 stood rigid and unmoving behind the petrified wood of a frozen tree. If it were not for the utter power and determination in his eyes, one could have mistaken him for a statue among the endless wasteland in which he hid. His eyes, having beheld the most savage of horrors, calmly and quickly scanned the frozen city that slept off in the distance for any signs of life. Icy blue, these eyes could pierce the heart of any man—or being—that were foolish enough to stare into them. At the moment, however, Orion 237 needed these eyes for two reasons: food and protection. As swift and dexterous as he was, the sturdy man was not accustomed to using primitive weapons like the spear. He was consequentially forced to return to his shelter after an unsuccessful hunt. Orion’s military background came in handy when moving about outdoors; the last thing he wanted was to be noticed by the enemy. Regardless of the wit and furtiveness he was trained to have, Orion’s rugged features and fierce presence made it absolutely necessary for him to don Active Camouflage (such technology rendered him nearly invisible). Stealthily, Orion 237 was approaching the rocky area in which his secluded ice cave lurked. The sound of a faraway shriek hurtled through the air and bombarded the icy terrain along with the human ear drums. This cacophonous disruption could only come from one horrid creature. An amalgamation of pure cruelty, arrogance, and war, this dreadful high-pitched noise rightfully belonged to the beasts that plunged the Earth—and Orion—into the arctic hell that destroyed everyone, Orion ever knew and loved. //Oh no, they’re becoming active again. I must hurry//, the man thought. He took in one last look of the once tranquil scene that hid his shelter. A few snowflakes were still falling and they danced in the air creating what Orion thought looked like a wolf guarding his cave. //What place is there for those alien monsters among these tender, downy blankets of snow?// Quickly, he tore his eyes away and delved into the task at hand. Orion meticulously penetrated the plasma barriers he set up and entered his makeshift fortress. Taking a deep breath, he touched the cold holographic video recorder and pressed the button labeled, “Record”. “My name is Orion 237 and I am a survivor of the alien invasion that occurred three years ago on October 24, 2760. Though I have been searching, I have not been able to encounter another survivor. If anyone receives this, I am located just outside of New Miami, Florida in the Republic of America. I have evaded alien forces in this tundra and have important information regarding their weapons and camouflage technologies. But first, let me start at the beginning."

"150 years ago, global warming was rapidly increasing, causing the earth to heat up at an alarming rate and threatened our very survival. When all hope seemed lost, a vast aircraft appeared out of the misty sky with fifty alien beings on it. They called themselves the Clodvans from the planet Plutoid in the Cygni galaxy. When these extraterrestrial entities came out of their spacecraft, we were greeted to an amazing sight. They were fairly short, had a pale blue complexion, big green eyes, and wrinkled heads. When questioned about their presence here, they offered their help in aiding us with the rising levels of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere in exchange for letting them stay on earth for a while. We accepted the offer and they released 365 robots in various areas of the world, each one designed to suck up its fill of carbon dioxide and then deactivate. At first, the world kept spinning and the plans were being completed without a problem. Everyone liked the Clodvans, but it seemed my grandfather was the only one who knew something wasn't right."

The wind gave a long, spine-tingling howl that made Orion 237 tremble a bit. He gave a short pause to regain his composure and continued on with his message. "My father remembered much about humanity's first encounters with the Clodvans. I remember exactly how he described them to me. He said, 'When I first saw the Clodvans, they spoke with a deep voice that gave off an air of skepticism. When they looked at me, their eyes seemed deep and cold to the point where it was disconcerting. And their clothes only added to my suspicions. Global warming had brought Earth to a point where 100 degrees Fahrenheit was the lowest temperature that the winter could give us. Yet the Clodvans dressed in heavy furs, thick boots, and what seemed like leather coats. They also always looked as if they traveled in packs no matter where they went. It was as if they were protecting each other from something. Their speech was respectful enough, but to me when I first saw them, their presence filled me with doubts about their intentions. By the time others began to notice the things I was already aware of, it was too late.'"

There was a shallow tap just behind Orion. He quickly turned around, but was only greeted with the crystal white snow that was so familiar to him. He stared out into the distance watching the delicate snow flurries fall, as if expecting someone to come, but as expected no one came. After a while, he turned back to the recording and continued. "The robots that were sent to eliminate the carbon dioxide in the air were certainly doing their job. However, everyday when a robot had its fill, it not only deactivated but seemed to disappear the next day. This continued until it couldn't be ignored anymore. After a few months, the earth's temperature started to decrease. Our target temperature had been reached, but the robots continued on with their mission. It wasn't until a mere thirty robots were left that the Clodvans finally revealed their real intent. They explained how their old home planet was hit by an asteroid and then exploded. Their people were able to escape and settled on Mars instead. Although the planet had suitable living conditions, it was too hot for the Clodvans to live on. They could only thrive in subzero temperature, so as a result, a great number of them died. Only fifty of them remained, so they came to Earth with the goal of turning it into their new home. As the CO2 levels dropped, so did the temperature. Suddenly, I realized that the disappearing robots were a countdown; the 365 robots represented each day of the year. With each one that disappeared, our society was one day closer to its destruction. 150 years after all of the Clodvan's robots left, the entire Earth became a frozen wasteland; an icy horror compared to its past beauty. We realized the aliens had taken too much carbon dioxide from the ozone layer and the air. Now that this step in the Clodvan's plan had been carried out and there was only one robot left, it was time for the final procedure: the eradication of the humans."

"Three years have past since then. I still hope that someone out there will find a way to defeat them. They have a vast arsenal of plasma-based weapons which are powered by a battery core. These weapons are not magazine operated and therefore do not need to be reloaded. Even their hand-held plasma pistols fire lasers that can penetrate a majority of our defensive equipment although they are especially damaging to human flesh. Currently, the only known defense against these weapons, plasma fields, also belongs to the aliens. I have managed to steal a small field generator that could possible be used to reverse-engineer this technology. They also have a type of cloaking device that allows them to completely hide themselves even from our very sensitive infrared goggles. One last thing the Clodvans have are--". All of a sudden Orion stopped because out of nowhere came a huge barrage of laser shots in the direction of his cave. He looked over and saw a group of Clodvans heading toward him like a pack blood thirsty savages. He turned off the recorder and quickly grabbed it to take with him, fighting for his life against the invading aliens. Orion was able to escape, but not without receiving a fatal wound to his side. As he staggered out into the desolate tundra and battled against the gusting blizzard, he saw five more Clodvans reveal themselves in front of him. They had Active Camouflage and were barely visible to the naked eye; the cloaking devices masked the ravenous beasts as blurry, transparent silhouettes. An onslaught of shots cut into the air as Orion fell back onto the blanketed ground of snow, dropping the recording into a nearby ditch. He felt his last icy breath leave him as he welcomed the Angel of Death into his now blackened sight. The Clodvans observed their victim for a while, making sure he was dead. They moved on after a minute or two, not realizing the message lay hidden in the snow.

Six months after Orion 237's death a white wolf wandered from an underground secret sanctuary, and was in the area looking for any survivors. A couple weeks before, there had been a terrible wind storm that blew snow around and revealed Orion's body. The recorder was also unearthed. The wolf came upon the body thinking it was alive due to its shape. Only after digging in the snow for a little while did it discover that the figure was a perfectly preserved human corpse. The wolf sat back on its haunches and howled in sadness. Yet another human being was cut down by the Clodvans. While turning back toward the underground bastion, a little red light blinking alone in the middle of the snow bank caught the wolf's eye. First, the animal carefully sniffed around, for it had been trained to be wary of the aliens' destructive technology. After realizing that the equipment was safe, the wolf picked it up in its jaws and swiftly returned from whence it came.

In an underground military base located beneath the nation's capital, New Miami, General Davidson intently watched his trained wolf on a computer screen. His eyes were fixed on the black piece of metal in its mouth. Little did he know, he was about to unveil precious information that would change the fate of humanity. The location of Orion's stolen plasma-shielding technology resided in the black video recorder, just waiting to found and //used.// Somewhere miles above the military facility, a Clodvan stuck its hard, wet nose into the air and smelled the sweet scent of death. Underestimating human ingenuity, the alien race was now in the calm before the storm.