"All right. Call this another win for the good guys," he said to Corporal Morrison, his radioman. "The enemy is pulling back."
He squinted up at the sun, cursing its immobility. By his watch, it was 2:00 am; the sun had been in that same position for 20 hours. Already, the temperature had risen nearly six degrees from yesterday's record high.
The casualty reports began to come in. Adams listened with growing dismay. Two men of his depleted company killed, three missing, and twelve wounded. Half of the injured were cases of exhaustion and heat prostration. Hell, they had lost more men to the weather than to enemy action!
If the temperature continued to climb, he didn't think his company would survive the week.
Death and destruction accompanied the storms of change, as did the terrible invaders, who attacked our planet with blinding speed and ferocity, killed hundreds of thousands, enslaved countless others. And now, as the third month of the invasion comes to a close, the planet Earth has stopped spinning and even more deaths are imminent from heat and cold.
......Act One (A Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight)
......Scene One (The Meeting) ~ Standard
Date/Time: 29 June 2013, 2 Months 23 Days into the Invasion
......4 Days into the Still World
Place: United States, Southern Tennessee, near the Georgia border
The Situation: The world has surely gone to hell recently. The USA has been invaded by dinosaurs and lizard-men; the United Kingdom and Scandinavia have been overrun by knights in armor, Vikings and sorcerers; France has been transformed into a dark-ages theocracy; the Middle East has been taken over by a raygun-weilding lunatic who wishes to recreate the glories of Ancient Egypt. It's been a bad couple of months.
And now the Earth has stopped moving. The sun has been in the same place for over 20 hours — somewhere over the ocean near South America — and the temperature over North America has risen almost six degrees above the record high for this day. You shudder to think what it must be like in South America now — and what it will be like here in a week.
But there's nothing you can do about that, so you are doing the best you can, running supplies into the boundaries of the so-called "Living Land" - a place that used to be called Tennessee. Despite the invasion of the dinosaurs and the Edeinos, despite the destruction of the cities, despite the collapse of technology, people still live there, refusing to leave their beloved homes.
They may be foolish — even crazy — but you cannot simply let them starve or die for lack of food or proper medicine. So, every day for the last couple of weeks, you have been running a truckload of supplies into Tennessee from still-normal Georgia, at the same time attempting to convince the people to leave.
The areas within the Eastern Land you've been traveling have been those of dense jungle, where many of the normal roads you would have used in the past have been wiped out, and the deciduous trees you would have recognized, ash and burch, before the war no longer exist. The ground is overrun by undergrowth and ground cover, and you may have had a couple of harrowing experiences with some of it grabbing you, or at least slowing your stride. So, you've learned, or been told, to stick to the roads, to the areas that are not covered. You have seen, coming from the mist, what you would think are flying starfish, who disappeared into the mist, after coming none too close to any of you, as quickly as they emerged. And, of course, there's the mist; the ground and the air smell musty all the time, as if decay has taken this place over, but there are light breezes that cross your nose sometimes that smell like after-rain, temporarily sweeping away the decay. Though there is light, and rarely is it bright, you have never seen the sun through the mist when traveling, here. As in a rain forest during the monsoon, you cannot tell when it's raining or when it's just humid, as the forest-cum-jungle drops the condensate from high above on its thick leaves after the rains.
After a few terrifying experiences in the first trips, you've gotten the hang of it by now — more or less — and this trip has so far been uneventful. You are heading down a dirt road back toward Georgia. The road has degraded significantly, and, hitting a sharp rock, your front left tire blows out.