Book 1: Jake Earth’s Transmission
Your sitting there one day, rather you wake up, and your standing at the foot of the bed. Or it’s your Mom and she wants to kill you. And sometimes it really was. Nukes were flying, the world ended, and no one other than the early betrayers knew what was happening. A lot of people died that day. The Mimiks struck hard and fast, using us against ourselves. That’s the nature of Mimiks. Seeing one if your common is rare, and certainly not directed at you, though that was no safety. The common battle, as the conflict is primarily fought, was a throwback to our own history, or a last surviving continuation of it: man killing man. Betrayers, like hounds of their overlords, jumped somersaults to please their masters, slavering to join those holy ranks. Idiots. Even the Queen was a servant and slave to the Terror. And she was all of them, every Mimik, and they knew it. Except him maybe. I call him Jangy, curse him, but Jan’y is more like it. My name is Jake.
I met Jangy that first Day. To have been assigned a Mimik is an honour of sorts. Or an insult, for the early betrayers were as well. Betrayers were numerous. Half our kind. They must have been visited and slowly darkened for some time prior to The Day, laying quiet plans and gathering discreetly. But in my heart I know they succumbed that same morning, every single one of them. The early betrayers might as well have woken turned, twisted in their dreams and never really leaving them. I kill betrayers on sight. I can’t be fooled by them, so I’m assigned Mimiks.
I still don’t know if humans were just more numerous than Mimiks or just if too few of us warranted the direct attention of the Queen. She dealt with organisms at least one telescoped viewing vaster than our petty individual human existences. To speak of the Queen was to speak of the Earth and it’s systems, animals, and energies as a sum greater than its parts and cells, one soul. And in the Queen’s case, malicious. The cruelty of nature. An incomprehensible bacterium. A parasite gripping the Earth, seeking to turn it to a transmitter or amplifier of the Dark Force and farm our fear to power it. A horn for God’s darker moods, or His Enemy, what or whoever made that vile substance or perspective and splattered it against our planet like a sludge snowball.
Jangy wasn’t the first Mimik I met. That was a female. The first time seeing my Mother again changed me for the worse. At least it wasn’t like Kaylie. Her step-Dad, Eric, woke her up. He was no Mimik. Johnny, Kaylie’s brother, killed that bastard by bashing him on the head a bunch of times with a stalagtite rock she kept on her desk. Johnny, like a good forty percent of humans that day, woke scared from dreams to the walls melting and a horror intensified on waking. Many remained frozen there, out of their minds, and few made it out of bed much further. If planned, it was to immobilize large areas of our swarm as the betrayers systematically and thoroughly went from victim to victim, torturing them, seeking to turn them but delighting in their deaths of body or mind. But Johnny heard his sister’s screams and rushed to save her. Their Mom Juniper wasn’t to be found. Scenes like this played out in every house between theirs and mine on our street. Surely intensified by the presence of the Mimik in my room.