ENTRY 1 I’m not sure where to start this. The last couple days have been a blur of running and fear, and the last months(?) are something I shudder to recall. I’ve been desperately trying to collect my thoughts, and this seems like my only opportunity. Right now, everyone else seems to be asleep and I agreed to keep watch for the night. The light is low, and I’m using some dirty old pen to write on a stolen little notebook I salvaged while looking for food scraps. Still, the idea of writing something down beats fixating on the living reminders huddled only feet away from me. I’d honestly rather write about the past than try to comprehend whatever the future might hold. Maybe it’s best if I try to start from the beginning of this whole wretched and strange experience. I’ve thought about the day this started repeatedly, as it was the last memory of normalcy I’ve had to think about for a long, long time. It had been another tedious shift at work, something I took for granted at the time. Even now I struggle to remember how that workday was different from any other, so I’ve made a habit of starting the flashback when I rounded the mailbox. The air was warm with a light breeze. The full green leaves in the trees produced a fluttering ripple against the empty blue sky. But at the time I didn’t care about any of that. Instead I was drearily sorting through the mail like any other day, while giving a halfhearted wave to my elderly canine neighbor. I didn’t look straight at him, but he was probably digging holes in the garden for some kind of vegetable or flower. I paid him little mind and stumbled drowsily into my little apartment. God I hated that confined space back then, but I’d trade anything to return to my bed, hell, even a mattress like that. I laid back on my miniscule couch before I noticed something unusual among the regular abundance of bills that had piled up. One envelope had an odd little symbol with the initials “FFI” printed all over it. Haphazardly I tore the envelope open only for a thick packet of papers to fall out. Curious, I read the first paper with the largest font, likely meant to catch my attention. I don’t remember exactly what it said, but it was something along the lines of, “Congratulations, you have been selected for your unique genetic background to support your country!” I held it against the light and scoffed, “Genetic background? Is this some weird new marketing thing?” With growing concern I eyed the thick bundle of papers behind the cover. When I leafed through it elaborated that I had been “selectively volunteered” for an upcoming project by the “Federal Fertility Initiative”, but the more I looked into the legal gibberish the more it sounded like I had been drafted. It feels so foolish now, but I was tired, and carelessly tossed the strange mail away. I hadn’t even been to the hospital in years, why would anyone know about my DNA of all things? Figuring this was some bizarre way to scam the elderly out of their money, I didn’t pay it any more mind. Drained, I just watched television for nearly four entire hours. I didn’t savor the outside air, I didn’t enjoy the privilege of owning a computer, I didn’t even sample whatever food was left in the pantry, I just wasted that last night doing nothing. I tell myself thinking about how things could have gone differently is a waste of time, but it’s hard to stop myself. Maybe if I had turned on the news instead of shitty sitcoms I could have known more, tried to run or something… I didn’t do any of that, I didn’t do anything productive. Instead I fell asleep on the couch to the sound of canned laughter like a dumbass, thinking nothing of it. My sleep was interrupted by a loud knocking against my door. It boomed out so loud it sounded like the door would fall off it’s hinges if they hadn’t stopped to shout, “Is there an ‘Anon’ inside!?” Still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I felt my heart stop upon realizing whoever was at my door knew my name. My mind was still desperately trying to grind out any possible explanations when the deep voice called out again, “You did not report to the proper authorities, and as such you will be forcibly relocated from your property!” Thinking I was under arrest, or possibly something worse, I jumped to my feet, trying futilely to straighten out my wrinkled clothes. I considered throwing on a jacket to look slightly presentable, but my train of thought was derailed by a considerably more aggressive shout. “We are giving you until the count of THREE!” Pulling my socks up I staggered to the door. “ONE!” In my hurry, I nearly tripped on my pile of shed work clothes from yesterday. “TWO!” Pulling up to the door, I took a moment to peek through the eyehole and see just who was outside my home. This turned out to be my biggest mistake of the night, as before I could even register what I was looking at, the heavy wooden door came flying forward into my face along with a deafening “THREE!” I have to assume I was hit so hard I simply passed out, either that or I fell backwards and hit my head hard enough to forget the rest... I wish I could forget the upcoming experiences so easily. When I finally came to, feeling not only tired, but more battered and bruised than I had in a long time, I saw [THE FOLLOWING MATERIAL HAS BEEN CLASSIFIED AS SENSITIVE INFORMATION – THIS SECTION HAS BEEN PARTIALLY CENSORED FOR YOUR SECURITY AND TO AID INVESTIGATIVE PROCEDURES] ______________________________ _____________________________ _____________________________ _____________________The room I was forced into was even smaller than my old apartment. The concrete floor reminiscent of a prison cell, only this looked more… Important? It was missing bars or the scummy brick walls of a normal jail, instead it had _______________________ ________________________________ After what felt like hours a man in medical garb informed me I was not a prisoner and that “everything would go smoothly if I cooperated.” Feeling like I had been tossed into an asylum I pleaded with him for answers, but he just assured me if I took my medicine and followed any orders, I would be fine. What the hell kind of place was this? Little did I know the last thing I wanted was answers to that question. After a concerning number of pills that looked _____________ and several shots I was starting to realize this couldn’t simply be a prison. Why was I given one of those stupid gowns they wear at hospitals? Was this some kind of quarantine? From the outside this place looked like _____________________ __________________ _________________ _____________________________________________ _____ ______ __________ Eventually a man in uniform stirred me from my thoughts by barging in through the door. “The ____________________ is ready!” He barked, like an uncaring machine. Hesitant to follow my latest unwelcome visitor, I was pushed by the gloved hands of the doctor(?) towards the intimidating figure. He stiffly hurried me down the hallway… Oh that damn hallway. Every time I was forced down it I had to witness _____________________ _______________________ ____________________________________________ ____________________________________________ _________________________ ___________________________ _______________________________________________________ _________________________________The crying… It never stopped, never ceasing for one moment like a low murmuring choir echoing down the halls, only interrupted by the occasional sharp wail. It would ____________________________________________ ___________________________ _____________________________ ____________________ _________________________________ ______________________________ Left alone in the nearly bare room I had no idea what might happen to me next. For all I knew they would execute me then and there. If the appearance of the others on the way here was anything to go by, maybe death would be preferable. Shaking in the paper-thin gown I had been forced into, the static coated voice of a speaker sounded out from somewhere above me. “Approach the subject.” It stated in a flat monotone voice. Straining my eyes against the glare of fluorescent lights I was disturbed to see _______________________________ _____________________________ carted out in front of me. Incapable of seeing anything good come from what was coming together here, I eyed the restrained ________________________________________. I started to seriously consider running despite the clearly armed silhouettes against the doors, but was stunned by another emotionless announcement, “Anon, please proceed to ______________________” Did I hear them right? What the fuck kind of order was that? Was that even possible between an anthro and a human? Feeling as if I was in the midst of a fever dream I cried out in the vague direction of the speaker, “WHAT?” I was breathing heavily now as I waited in agonizing silence… well it would have been silent besides the restrained gasps from the ______________ beside me. This time a different voice spoke, one less dispassionate. “You WILL provide the other test subject with what we have requested, and it will be done quickly before the administered chemicals lose potency.” Absolutely screaming now I yelled, “What kind of place is this?” Likely in response to my defiance the stomping of boots heralded several men into the chamber. Kicking uselessly against them in my stupid my gown they grabbed ________ _______________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________ _________________________________________ ______________________ ___________________________ _____________________________________________ _________________ ____________________________________________ ______________________________ _______________________ ________________________________________________________ __________________ ________________ ______________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________ ___________________ ______________________________________________________________________ __________________________________ _______ __________________________________ ________________________________________________ _________________________________ ____________________ _______________________________________ __________ ___________________________________________________ _________________ _________________________________________________________ _________________________ __________________ _______ ____________ _______________________________________ __________________________________________________________ ___________ ________________ ____________________________ _______________________________________ _____________________________________ ____________________________________ ________________________________________________ _________________________ __________________ ___________ _____________________________________________________ ________________________________________________ _______________________ _________________________ ________________________________________________ __________________ ______________________________ ________________________________________________ _______ _________________________________________ ________________________________________________ ________________________________________________ [END OF CONFIDENTIAL SECTION – THE FFI WOULD LIKE TO REMIND YOU THESE ARE THE WORDS OF A CONVICTED CRIMINAL, ANY STATEMENTS, PRIOR OR FOLLOWING, MAY BE SUBJECT TO FABRICATION] Never before had I felt so abysmal. Lying simultaneously sore and numb against the cold floor I had trouble focusing even a single thought through the unending surge of emotions. I felt like both a rapist and a rape victim. I’ve heard writing about these sorts of things can be therapeutic, but I never want to remember that feeling again. It wouldn’t be the last time I felt such a feeling, everyday I would be subjected to similar “experiments”. It never got any easier. And it’s no easier now even away from that god forsaken place. So I’m going to skip days, weeks, months, however long it lasted, to when I was finally able to leave. That night was just like the endless series of other miserable ones I had felt, the time of day only signaled by when the fluorescent lights would shut off or flicker back on. Watching the light unceremoniously die in my holding cell, I searched my mind desperately for answers. Why was any of this being done? Was it some attempt to make a new species? Super soldiers? For what purpose? I had heard about declining birth rates on the news, but this seemed like a horrendous solution to the problem. What could possibly possess anyone to design a place like this? I aimlessly tossed my fist into the air with bitter anger, but I stopped my thrashing when I heard a loud electronic click. Still gathering myself and thinking what could have caused the odd noise, my ears were immediately met with the muffled clattering of doors being thrown open in every direction. I leaned against my own door, trying to see a hint of what was going on through the tiny plane of fogged glass embedded in the steel. Instead my weight threw the unknowingly unlocked barrier wide open. I looked up to see people running in every direction, none human, and all women in similar wardrobe like my own. Stumbling back onto my feet I watched vipers, horses, and even arachnids clatter through the halls, pushing against one another in their struggle to get anywhere else. Once I was standing I felt confusion turn to excitement, thinking, “Could this be a jailbreak?” I never believed escape was possible until that moment. As if on cue, once I had decided to run the sirens started blaring. Red lights overtook the reduced fluorescents as the panic in the hallways reached a startlingly frenzied pace. Booking it like everyone else, I ran through those hallways. I’m still ashamed to think about it, but looking at those horrified faces running alongside me, I recognized some. I didn’t want to recognize any of those poor people, but it happened. So I kept my head down, watching the grid of white tiles twist underfoot as I ran. While the diversion may have kept me focused on my desperate flight, the distraction caused me to bump into a blur of monochrome stripes belonging to a stampeding zebra. I tumbled against the sea of other runners, and when I fully lost my balance I fell into one of the many open cells lining the walls. Looking up, I quickly recognized this woman as well. She was a reddish insectoid with long antennas that brought her reduced height up to nearly mine. Wincing at the recollection, I nearly turned back into the flood of prisoners before I realized something. What was she doing hiding in here when escape was possible? Looking more closely now, I realized she had some kind of muzzle over her mouth. She was fighting and pulling against it, but clearly it was designed so the wearer could never just pull it off. I desperately wanted to run… but I felt a gnawing responsibility after our last horrendous encounter. Trying to move calmly, I squeezed the hard carapace of her shoulder to get her attention. Instantly she froze in place, her large yellow eyes shooting open to observe me. I could only feel a pit form in my stomach as she remained clearly startled, likely recognizing me as I had her. In that moment I thought “Even if she attacks me out of fear, I deserve it.” Reaching forward slowly, I shifted my gaze to the specialized restraint. It looked like it was built with a simple latch specifically made to be outside of her own reach. I could get it off… If she would let me. Fortunately, she didn’t resist, watching me intensely as I fumbled with the lock. With a thud, the device came off, freeing an intimidating pair of mandibles into the open air that twitched with newfound freedom. I tried to think of anything to say, but before I could utter a word, she pushed past me into the free for all of the hallways. I didn’t want to linger, so I followed her example and booked it back into the scramble. It was apparent at that point no one really knew where they were going. Struggling to see above the clamor around me and the incessant blaring of sirens, I spotted the first major obstacle. The hallway split into three new paths. I could keep going forward, move right or swerve left. Ahead it looked like a massive pile-up of pushing limbs, so that wasn’t a great option. I didn’t like my odds pushing through the tangle of dangerous looking figures. To the right a line of guards was pushing against a tiger woman swiping ferally against their cattle prods. I didn’t stand a chance in a fight, so the last option was to the left, a nearly empty hallway with few stragglers darting down it. I couldn’t find a reason so few were taking that route, was it the wrong way? Taking my chances, I headed down the path less traveled, hoping there wasn’t a good reason why it was less popular. I ran and ran, bare feet feeling every miniscule crack between the tiles. My peripherals were a blur. I darted down yet another branching corridor, hoping an erratic path might get me somewhere less populated. Rounding the corner however, I skidded to a halt before running face first into another security figure in riot control gear. I tried to run right back where I came from, but a firm grasp on my wrist held me in place. It hurt as my body lurched forward, held back only by the tendons below my hand. Turning my head back I watched him pull out his own cattle prod device, flipping the switch without a word. Panicking I pointlessly tried to reason with him, “Let me go! I haven’t done anything wrong!” Tilting his helmet slightly, he responded in a sickeningly heartless voice, “Don’t worry about it, these things are considered non-lethal.” Rearing his arm back to strike me, I held my free arm above my face in a meager attempt to block it. Maybe karma is real, because instead of being electrocuted, I only felt the drumming of my heart beat against my ears. The grasp on my arm fell limp as I opened my eyes to witness the heavily outfitted man fall to his knees. Exposed by his new position, a pair of copper colored antennas poked up from behind him. Pulling her mandibles from his legs she looked at me for a moment before speaking in a light yet raspy voice, “Never heard about fire ant bites you fuzzer?” Stunned by both the sudden rescue, and unexpected mammalian slur tossed at me, I probably looked like a deer in headlights. “Come on, I know you’ve got hair on your head, but surely you’ve got more than fur between your ears, LETS GET OUT OF HERE!” Taking one of my hands in her own, she pulled me forward with disproportionate strength for her size. I looked back at the spasming guard before running forward with her. It seems stupid to look back on now, but the fact she grabbed my hand like that… It was the first time in a long time I had felt a touch without malice. Even if she appeared to be prejudiced, I found myself following her lead without a second thought. Winding through the endless corridors I followed the athletic ant around several twists and turns. “Do you know where you’re going?” I breathed out between panting breaths. She just bluntly answered, “No better than you!” Starting to lose hope but unwilling to stop running from this hellhole I kept following. Fortunately we didn’t run into anymore security, instead we ran into a completely different kind of commotion. Rounding the corner we hit a dead end. This time we were facing a shut door, visibly vibrating from the activity behind it. Looking back at her I was reminded I still had her hand held in mine. I loosened my grip before I hoarsely whispered, “What is happening in there?” Turning back to me she hesitated before answering, “Uh… maybe we shouldn’t find out?” Listening to the muffled clattering behind the door grow louder, we gingerly stepped back before the door flew wide open, with a uniformed guard sailing straight past us into the wall. In response I swiveled my head to witness the completely unexpected scene past the doorway. Most obvious was the large shark woman, lifting another heavily outfitted security member in the air with her massive arms. Hanging off his leg refusing to let go was a hyena, unwilling to open her jaw even as she was pulled into the air. In the corner of the room fumbling with a device in the wall was a thin sheep, the bundle of wool shaking in panic as she tried to focus. I looked back at the insect with me, but she seemed just as unsure how to react. In a stupor we watched the second uniformed figure tossed the same as the other into the unconscious heap, the hyena only letting go a moment before to yell, “And stay the FUCK out of here!” Still adjusting to the situation, I froze in place when the large shark turned to me with a deep scowl. She bellowed, “What is this little punk doing here?” Even if I couldn’t remember her in that moment, her reaction told me her memory hadn’t faltered. She was fully intent on snapping me like a twig. I tried to think of something to say but my mouth went dry… even a part of me figured I deserved it. Instead of being ripped apart by the muscular shark however, a pair of swaying antennas moved in front of my face. “If we want to get out of here, we’re going to have to work together!” The shark stopped her advance as she listened to the ant between us attempting to reason. She continued, “Look, I also hate those dirty mammals just as much, but we can’t be picky when we’re trying to bust out of here.” Confused for a moment the aquatic assailant paused before responding, “I’m not upset because of his species, I’m furious because this man VIOLATED ME while I was chained down!” Already fuming again, she was interrupted by the unusually excited hyena besides her, “Welcome to the club honey, because I’m pretty sure the lab boys have been putting this runt out to stud with our entire block.” I tried to defend myself but the words caught in my throat. What could I possibly say to these people? After what I did? Turning from the wall, the nearly forgotten sheep interjected, “He’s d-dressed like the rest of us, I’m sure he’s j-just as scared!” before returning to the panel. Realizing everyone’s eyes were now on her, she continued to ramble while she worked the touchpad. “S-see, I got a hold of a -uh map… and well these two believed me… u-unlike the others… and they helped me get to the-the rear exit here…” Finding my voice return I asked, “What are you doing with that thing?” A few seconds after she failed to answer it was clear she was completely preoccupied jamming numbers into the device. So instead the hyena spoke up, “Little miss puff and stuff here is trying to punch in every code we’ve found on these guys to get the tunnel open.” I repeated perplexed, “Tunnel?” However, my confusion was overshadowed by the spotted hyena leaning in closer to the ant, “And what did you say about mammals you little bug?” She flashed her teeth, but the insect remained unimpressed. “You wanna go fuzzer? Think your stupid internal bones can handle a real exoskeleton?” This time the shark became the mediator, holding the conflicting species back from each other with her outstretched arms. Unwilling to watch yet another descent into chaos I tried to intervene, “Please, we can kill each other later, I just want to die anywhere but here!” I was met with three different glares of varying levels of annoyance before a mechanical whirring caught our attention. “I did i-it!” the ewe shouted excitedly as a section of the floor next to her began to shift. It would have felt surreal seeing a secret passage reveal itself like that if my life hadn’t already become so difficult to believe. In only a few seconds a flight of stairs deeper underground was uncovered, stretching downward at a steep angle beyond my line of sight. The mysterious opening looked far from inviting, but the echo of encroaching boots down the hallway made for good motivation. I quickly shut the door behind me, but I knew the pile of unconscious men would be a dead giveaway pointing towards this room. Turning back to face the only exit left to me, I noticed the hyena laughing like a maniac as she ran underground, “You can all stay here as long as you want, I’m getting out of here!” Following suit, the little sheep started delicately walking down the stairs, only to be hoisted up by the muscle-bound shark like a pillow underneath her arm as she sprinted her down the stairs. Not wanting to wait any longer than the rest of them, I hastily worked down the narrow steps with the ant running right behind me. I imagine it was more luck than planning on the ewe’s part, but as we sank down the tunnel the panel above moved back in place to seal the stairwell again. I can’t say the disappearance of my only option to turn back made me feel very secure, but the notion of anything added between us and them was worth the discomfort. Back to the tunnel, it was nothing but concrete bricks and the occasional crate or barrel lining the room. I imagine it was for moving stuff in secret, maybe even people, but at that moment it was empty. The hyena was still cackling as she ran, like this was some kind of game. She jumped over any obstacles in her way, even if she could just walk around. The shark was running like a quarterback, with her fuzzy football still in tow. The little lamb didn’t seem to enjoy the ride, but It was obvious from earlier she wouldn’t get anywhere moving at her own speed. The ant bobbing and weaving beside me seemed to be actually restraining her stride to keep up with me… her large yellow eyes fixated on my unkempt hair… The creepy stare was easy to ignore however, as my mind was preoccupied with the burning of my legs from all this non-stop running. I was hardly an athlete, my chest was already hurting from gasping for air. Maybe all the security was busy guarding other exits, maybe they weren’t even aware we were escaping this way, and maybe it was a miracle, but we sprinted through that lengthy tunnel without issue. It must have only taken a few minutes, but it felt like the start of a new day when we emerged through an inconspicuous archway into the open night air. The tunnel really must have been intended to be hidden, because we emerged at the base of a steep slope surrounded by thick underbrush, with no visible path in sight. I was exhausted, my ill-fitting hospital gown drenched in sweat. The atmosphere was thick with humidity and crackling energy, sirens still audible even if we couldn’t see the facility anymore. The only visible reminders of the place we had just left was the abrupt archway behind us erupting from the soil, and the outline of searchlights above the tree line. It wasn’t premeditated in any way, but we all stopped at the mouth of that passage. The shark woman deposited the shaken sheep on the ground, the hyena was wheezing more than laughing at this point, and the fire ant remained eerily silent while I caught my breath. The considerably less winded shark was the first to break the silence, “Well what are all of you waiting for, get the hell out of here!” Even as shaken as she was the ball of wool next to her spoke up in a faltering tone, “I-I don’t want to go a-a-alone….” I was shocked that even though a part of me felt the same thing, she was the first to speak it. I couldn’t imagine trying to live on the run, especially on my own. Nervously I spoke up, “Maybe I can go with you?” In response she smiled widely, the genuine reaction made me feel, well, human for the first time in ages. “Really?” she returned in a squeaky voice, “But I thou-thought you only needed me for my map?” Deep down I knew I only volunteered because of how terrified I was of being alone, but I couldn’t say that. Trying to think of a good response I was interrupted by the insectoid behind me. “You two will be too busy combing your hair or lactating or something… You’ll need a real arthropod’s superior work ethic to get anywhere.” I was unsure how to take her tactless self-inclusion, but the idea of anyone else joining us eclipsed any potential insults. Ready to formulate a plan with my new companions, our little cluster was invaded by the intimidating shark. Perhaps because the shortest women had joined me, she felt the need to intervene. “Well I still don’t trust this little freak, so I’ll come along to make sure he doesn’t get up to anything…” Her remark was followed by an intense glare from her dark eyes, enough to almost make me regret staying with any of these escapees. The tension was broken however by the hyena in back, “He’s not Mormon ladies, he can’t marry all of you!” She was the only one laughing at her own joke, but she continued in her sardonic tone, “He’s my baby-daddy after all, and I plan on getting all the alimony I can from this shrimp.” Abruptly reminded of what I had been subjected to, what I had been forced to subject others too… Well I felt my will to resist anything she said wane. I’m not even sure now if I could really get another species pregnant, the idea still sounds like terrible science fiction. Unable to respond, the shark did instead, “We need to get moving, they could be closing in on us RIGHT NOW!” This proved to be more than enough inspiration to get the group moving, as we all began our trek into the tangle of ferns and vines. Time is moving faster than I thought writing this down, the birds have started singing and the starry sky is shifting into a dark blue rather than jet black. I’ll try to make the rest of this little entry brief before the others wake up, and we inevitably get moving again. It was tense, and we feared to speak anymore as the unexpected snap of a twig was enough to set any of us on edge. We spent the entire night traveling that way, assuming any noise could be an attempt to abduct us. Our pathetic excuse for clothes didn’t make things any easier, but we persevered. It was good fortune we found a crumbling hunting shack in the middle of nowhere after the sun had risen. Even better, it was abandoned, so we were able to raid it for supplies. I can’t say I’m a fan of thievery, but we needed food, water, clothes, anything, desperately. The door was no match for the bulky shark, and there were still some sealed containers inside. This was where I found the pocket journal I’m currently writing in. The place must have been human owned, because I even found some camo clothes in my size stored in a large luggage case. The others weren’t quite as lucky, with the diminutive ewe and the shorter ant draped in baggy clothes. The smallest clothes came in a displeasing combination of pink and camouflage patterns, something I was shocked anyone would actually buy. The hyena was pushing her baggy brown jacket she had found to it’s limits, but not as much as the shark nearly tearing through her splitting clothes. There were few complaints despite the mismatch, given anything was better than those little robes. After a bit of debate, we eventually decided on spending our first night there. The wooden floor was still a better option than anything outside to sleep on. We had a dinner of suspiciously old and unheated cans of beans. The shark took the first watch that night, and I think only because of how tired it left her, she let me hold watch this night. Today, or maybe yesterday now with the sun peeking up, we stumbled onto the borders of a tiny roadside park. Given I looked the least suspicious in actually fitting clothes, I was chosen to look around the spot for information. It really wasn’t until that moment it became apparent how little we knew about where we were. The ant mentioned she’s from Texas and the sheep from Virginia. The other two didn’t volunteer any information about themselves. I still don’t know their names, and yet we’ve already started to depend on each other. I should really make it a priority to learn at least that much tomorrow, if they’ll tell me. But anyway, there wasn’t much to the park other than a tiny bathroom and a roadmap. Short story made even shorter, apparently I’m in southern Florida right now. It’s not too hard to accept relative to the rest of what’s happened to me, but it’s still a shock to learn how far away I am from home right now. God, what did happen to me? Am I really the father for these four women? Could such a thing be possible? Was I really father to every damn unfortunate soul I had crossed with in that place? How many children would that even be? I guess I can’t expect answers to questions like that anytime soon. I do feel a little better having written this turmoil down. I still feel guilty, but reflecting on the escape, I’ve reminded myself these women are here with me of their own free will… It’s not like I coerced them or something. For fuck’s sake, I’m trying to help, I shouldn’t feel so bad about doing that at least. It’s about time I woke them up. Even if I want to let these poor souls sleep, we have to stay on the move. It’s for the best. ------------------------------------------------------- ENTRY 2 It’s only been two days since the last time I wrote in this. Maybe I shouldn’t try to keep watch this often, but I feel like I need to. It just seems easier rather than fighting about it. As a group we rarely talk, and when we do it often leads to arguments, but somehow we’ve managed to keep it together this long. The only good thing is that I’ve managed to at least learn the names of my fellow runaways. It’s probably best if I write them all down tonight. Might help clear my head while keeping straight what I know about them. I’ll start with the sheep, seeing as she seems to have been the most open with me so far. She told me her name is “Elizabeth.” I can’t help but worry about her more than the others. She seems so much frailer, and she acts doubly so. I think she doesn’t give herself enough credit, she’s the only one other than me that even tries to keep the peace around here. The fact she’s even still going after being forced into the same place as the rest of us proves she’s more capable than she acts. She tells me she was a college student before all of this in Virginia. Unlike the others she told me a bit about how she was taken. From the sound of it, she was delivered some eerily similar mail to my own prattling on about her unique genetics. She actually read through the documents unlike me, and in her own form of protest sent a letter of refusal back. It’s almost cute how she thinks that could have worked. Almost. Like me she was taken in the night, but she became too anxious to give any more details. I can’t imagine how much harder this whole thing has been on her. Regardless of her smaller size, she does have one thing going for her I find myself growing jealous of. She’s the only one of us that can eat grass. She complains it’s very bland, but I’d trade anything right now to just subsist off the ground like that. Next I’ll go with the especially confrontational bug. Her name is Skylar, and she’d probably bite me for calling her a bug. The way she talks you’d think she was an insect supremacist, and frankly I’ve been struggling to find any evidence to the contrary. She has probably initiated half the fights over the past days by calling everyone but the shark “fuzzers.” I wish she’d just stop. Strangely she is mostly quiet when not insulting other species. I often find myself looking behind my back to see if she’s still there, and she’s almost always fixated on the top of my head. For being so averse to hair, her large yellow eyes always seemed to be focused on mine when she thinks I’m not looking. I tried to bring this up, but she insisted, “You’re barely a fuzzer, so I’ll give you’re tuft of fur a pass.” That’s hardly comforting, but at least I’ve learned I’m seemingly more popular with fire ants than most mammals. Bizarrely despite her relative openness with me, her face is a lot harder to read than the rest. What can I say? I didn’t grow up in a neighborhood with many insects. Her enlarged eyes and mandibled mouth are still very foreign to me. I should definitely mention Heba, the spotted hyena and our one source of unwelcome comedy. I tried to ask her where she was from, but she just told me, “Not from around here.” This was punctuated by her trademark laugh, which is starting to drive everyone, not just me, mad. I try to give her the benefit of the doubt though. Even if she hasn’t cracked enough to show it, I refuse to believe she’s as unfeeling as she appears to be. It’s probably for the best she keeps the persona up, I can’t imagine how much harder it will be to keep moving if any of us give in to despair. Still, her annoying laughter is enough to make me wish she was moping instead. You can only hear the same, “Who’s the Father?” joke enough times before you want to leave her behind. The mutual groans we give in response to her “jokes” is probably one of the few things uniting our group at this point. Last, and probably with the least I know about them is the shark, Sandra. Only she didn’t tell me that, rather Elizabeth was nice enough to pass her name along to me. Apparently, she comes from somewhere up the east coast, but she hasn’t elaborated further than that. She’s kind of acting as the de-facto leader, which isn’t great because she seems the least willing to tell me anything that’s going on. As far as I know, our only running plan is to stay hidden by constantly moving. We need to come up with something better for the long run, but none of us have suggested anything better. Regardless, I can’t bring myself to be mad with how she treats me. The look of disgust in her eyes when she sees me, I know deep down I earned every bit of it. The most I can bare to do is keep everyone working together, it’s not like I can force anyone to like me. We’re at least all agreed anywhere is better than going back where we came from, even Sandra can share that with me. And so now I find myself with these people lying on the forest floor. We’ve been lugging around rags, tarps, anything sturdy enough to sleep on and lightweight enough to bring with us as makeshift bedding. Most of what we’ve found has either been from that dusty cabin days ago, found in a ditch, or salvaged from a roadside dumpster. Oh yeah, I guess I can put “dumpster diver” on my resume now. I never imagined I would be scrounging for scraps like that, but if it preserves my freedom then it’s worth it. Surprisingly this has been the one front Heba has been helpful with, seeing as she was the to first suggest searching through the garbage. Elizabeth tried to help, but I think she ended up with enough junk stuck in her wool she became a walking trash monster. Skylar sees such activity as beneath an insect and staunchly refuses. I don’t want to sound as bad as her, but has this woman ever seen a cockroach? Sandra insists she keeps watch while we rummage, which is fair, any location with trash cans is already more public than we would like to be in. Back to the present, we’re currently somewhere deep in the woods, roughly laying in a circle. We talked about making a fire, but Sandra insists the smoke could be visible from a roadway. I can’t argue, but the idea of a fire sounds so nice on a night like this. It’s warm enough that the nights are bearable, so I shouldn’t complain. The mosquitoes are still terrible though. Swatting these stupid things away makes even writing down my thoughts difficult. A part of me thinks Skylar would take offense to that, but she’s asleep right now so I don’t have to solve that particular mystery anytime soon. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m impressed we’ve even made it this long. As far as I’m aware we haven’t crossed paths with anyone searching for us, not yet at least. We’ve hidden from the occasional passing helicopter, but it’s hard to tell if they’re actually looking for us. Information on exactly what the FFI is has been scarce. The best source I’ve found was an article in a discarded newspaper. It really wasn’t very useful. It used a lot of vague language, usually revolving around the fact the “The United States is working towards the future with our latest major project.” They lauded it like the next NASA, and yet they managed to say nothing of substance. The only remarkable information proclaimed the thousands of “volunteers” across the united states were hard at work. Not only was the entire operation a secret, but they lied about it so brazenly! Surely some people must be suspicious by now, right? I can only guess about the state of politics now, I’ve been separated for too long. Never thought I’d be unhappy to be removed from politics… I’m going to give up writing for tonight, these bugs are really getting on my nerves. I also can’t shake the thought the more I think about it. If this really is a huge government conspiracy, surely they must be hunting us down? I find it hard to believe they would let us roam like this. Maybe they can’t take direct action without drawing suspicion. I’m just hoping they’re clueless where we might be, not planning an ambush. ------------------------------------------------------- ENTRY 3 I’m making this one quick before I go to sleep. It’s been a couple more days and I’m not on watch, but I’m feeling restless. I do however, have some good news and some bad news to report. Good news: We won’t go hungry anytime soon Bad news: I will never enjoy oranges again We’ve hit farm country on our travels. Orange groves as far as the eye can see. I’ve always considered myself a fan of them, but it’s hard to say that after eating several meals consisting only of the citrusy bastards. While my interest in Florida’s finest is starting to wane, Elizabeth can’t seem to get enough. Sandra and Heba both prefer meat, but they’re making do. I should have payed more attention in high school biology, but I’m pretty sure even carnivorous anthros are omnivorous to some extent. Still, they’ve made it apparent they would rather eat anything else. Skylar seems indifferent, but I think she likes them. Speaking of Skylar, she’s on watch tonight. God, I just turned back now and I saw a flash of her amber eyes before she swiveled her head away. Is she staring at my damn head again? On second thought, now that I think about it, she might just be curious what I’m writing. It’s not like I’ve made a point to tell anyone I’ve been sporadically keeping a journal. It’s probably nothing to worry about. This isn’t worth the mental effort, and writing in this probably is time better spent sleeping. At least the abundance of food has lightened the mood for once. I think we’re more afraid of an old farmer chasing us away with a rake than secret agents right now. Perhaps it’s best we think about that instead. ------------------------------------------------------------- ENTRY 4 Okay, I’ve got something important to write down this time. It has been just over a week now, and for the first time I’m writing in this journal during daylight. I hope this is still legible even with the motion. That’s right motion, or more accurately locomotion, because I’m currently cruising down a dirt road. Today while trailing along a dirt road, we discovered an older roadside park. It was hidden in a thick glade of overgrown trees. While me and Heba got to our scavenging routine, Sandra took a lot of interest in a beat-up old van parked nearby. It must have been there a long time, because it was starting to rust over the powder blue paint and weeds were sprouting around the tires. The hunk of metal must have been from the early nineties, and it seems like it had spent ages in the open weather. The crumpled garbage can I looked through was a bust, but when I turned back, Sandra was busy at work under the hood vehicle’s hood. Elizabeth was her little helper, crawling into parts of the vehicle the shark couldn’t fit into. I don’t know what kind of mechanical sorcery they worked, but in less than an hour she had gotten the engine purring. Covered in rust and grease Sandra shouted uncharacteristically happy, “Hell yeah!” Astonished, I asked her, “Where did you learn to do that?” and for once she gave me an answer, “Pops worked at an auto shop… I spent the summers there with him.” Heba hollered in response, “You gotta teach me to hotwire a car like that one day!” Sandra only chuckled, “You’re lucky it’s an older model, I don’t think I could do the same thing on anything newer than that.” Opening the driver’s door Sandra jumped right in. Skylar was quick to call out, “I want to sit up front before anyone covers the seats in fur!” Feeling the contagious excitement, I jumped into the back along with Heba and Elizabeth. Grabbing the steering wheel Sandra shifted gears and shouted, “Let’s see how she runs!” Despite the excitement, this piece of shit barely runs. It rattles horrendously and we can’t get it over 50, but damn if this isn’t progress. It’s even got plenty of room, with Sandra and Skylar up front, Heba sits along a nervous Elizabeth, and I’m squished in the back. While internally I have a lot of questions about how we could get gas, or what the hell we do if we ever get pulled over, I don’t want to spoil the enthusiasm. This is probably the happiest our band of misfits has been this entire time. As I write now, Skylar is playing with the radio while Heba does her best to pester everyone like an annoying brother. She’s spotted my journal by now, and if my writing seems to warp sometimes, it’s because she’s trying to swipe the damn thing away from me. Says she wants to “throw my little diary out the window.” Diary or not, this thing has been keeping me sane so far, so I don’t care if it’s childish, I’ll duck and wiggle in the backseat to evade her grasp. With a jury-rigged scrapyard van, and a tarp full of oranges, things are starting to look hopeful for once. While we’re essentially still bickering, enough tension has drained that it’s coming off as playful. Maybe I can really get to know some of them under these circumstances. In that case I better tuck this journal away from Heba’s prying claws and actually get in on the argument the ewe and the red ant are having about the best car. Figures Skylar would have a soft spot for VW beetles. She’s practically a walking stereotype. ------------------------------------------------------- LAST ENTRY Things aren’t so fun anymore. It’s still the same day, but already a lot has changed. We even have another passenger in the vehicle with us, and feelings are mixed about her inclusion. Maybe if I write things down, I’ll be able to make a better case for keeping her with us. Only after a few hours of driving north, with a vague plan to get as far away from Florida as possible, Sandra announced we needed gas. I was once again elected as the least conspicuous choice to get it, but the plan on how exactly to get it was a subject of debate. None of us had money, and none of us were master thieves. While Sandra began talking about siphoning gasoline, Heba interrupted with a laugh. Raising her hand for us to quiet down, she revealed a twenty-dollar bill. Apparently she had found it while looking through the trash, but didn’t feel the need to tell anyone. While it was hard to not roll my eyes when she insisted I pay her back, she had offered us a legal solution. I straightened out my redneck apparel while Skylar kept watch for the next ramshackle backroad gas station to appear on the horizon. The place we ended up going with was ancient. The pumps were practically relics, but they still worked. As a testament to how out of date the place was, a sign informed us you had to pay inside before you could pump any gas. After I got out, I turned around to see Sandra anxiously gripping the wheel. Elizabeth on the other hand was peaking just barely over the bottom of the window and waving at me. At least someone was being supportive. I gave a little wave before I shifted back to the task at hand, which would hopefully be easy. I didn’t spot any vehicles around the building, but the sign still said it was open. I walked into the dusty interior and was immediately greeted by the portly catfish behind the counter. “Welcome! Whadya want?” Trying my best to remain casual I returned, “Twenty dollars of regular please,” and handed him the crumpled bill. I was already turning back to the pump when he called out again, “I don’t see too many people ‘round these parts lately, whatcha comin’ round here for?” I knew he wasn’t a covert agent or anything, but if I wasn’t facing away from him, he could probably see me start visibly sweating. “I’m uh, just seeing the sights!” I responded. Moving a little quicker after that I heard him mutter something about tourists under his breath before I got back out the door. When I got back out however, I noticed something I hadn’t before. Leaning against the rickety building in the shadows was a figure. Suppressing any instinctual fear I was beginning to feel, I sized up the unexpected stranger. They were wearing baggy rags, making their exact dimensions difficult to determine, but they were tall, more than a few inches above me. The stranger moved closer towards before I could react. I didn’t want to make a scene and attract attention, maybe they were just a beggar or something. In a low husky voice they spoke, “Please… Can you help?” Creeped out too much to speak, I watched them lift a clawed hand from underneath the robe draped over them. I flinched backwards, but the hand kept moving upwards, gently pulling their hood away. Once it fell, I recognized the face instantly. She was a lioness with a large scar between her eyes that zigzagged across her nose. I remembered the pattern, it was practically etched into my mind. She was the restrained woman the very first night I was in that place. Lost in thought I hardly noticed her motion even closer and whisper softly, “Please…” She looked rough on closer inspection, fur matted and wet, and her face gauntly thin. I didn’t need any more evidence, but the stained hospital gown poking out from underneath her rags confirmed my fears. In fact, the more I looked at her, the more apparent it was she was barely standing, largely using the side of the gas station for support. I really should have deliberated about it for even a moment, but seeing her so ragged looking, it brought me plummeting straight back to that night we met. The way she looked at me desperately, she must not have been able to recognize me, and maybe that was for the best. I could only return a soft, “Yes, yes I can help.” Almost immediately she lurched forward towards me, nearly losing her balance from the effort of separating herself from the wall. Without thinking I reached out to stop her from falling. Pressed against her tattered clothes, I could feel that she was just skin and bones underneath. Under different circumstances I would struggle to lift someone her size, but she was concerningly light in her state. “Thanked you…” She uttered underneath her breath, looking happy to have any kind of support. Her speech seemed off, if I had to guess English wasn’t her first language. With a deep sigh I turned back to the van, only to realize everyone inside had been pressed against the glass watching this scene unfold. It took longer for me to shamble back to the vehicle helping the poor woman, and that time was spent underneath several confused, anxious, and angry stares. When I opened the door to the back seats Sandra immediately hissed, “What the hell are you doing?” I did my best to explain it as fast as possible, “She’s one of us, we can’t just leave her here.” I made sure to pull her collar down a bit to show the style of hospital gown we had all become too familiar with. After a moment of silence Heba spoke up to make another wisecrack, but she faltered half way through, “I know you want as many girlfriends as possible anon… but we can’t take any more people.” Elizabeth spoke up in response, “And w-why can’t we take her with us?” Skylar, seemingly more suspicious, twitched her mandibles before adding on, “And how the hell did she even get out here?” Unable to answer that question, I tried to think of an excuse before the faltering lion next to me croaked out, “I only make it so far because kindness of kind people… They let me in truck for some distance… Now I am alone again.” Her face fell after that last statement, the memory apparently bringing pain. “Please,” I started back up, “We might be able to help one more person…” I was getting emotional then, the reality of just how many women I had been paired with was sinking in. “We need to try at least!” Still acting like the leader Sandra gave a deep sigh before responding, “Bring her in.” Overjoyed but not wanting to waste a moment, I eased her into the seat quickly. Helping her slump into the far side of the seats she whispered only loud enough for me to hear, “Bonolo thanked you…” Sliding back out I tried to reassure her, “We’ll take good care of you.” Perking her ears up the spotted hyena seemed to take offense, “OH, of course you gotta get soft for the lion, they just love harems.” Before she could laugh at her own joke the withered cat snarled surprisingly fiercely in her subdued voice, “Where I come from, we let fools like you feed the vultures.” Really, the aggressive response was so unexpected I shut the car door behind me afterwards without a second thought. It was only once the muffled yelling started from inside the van I realized what she had said. God forgive me, I had just made our volatile group even more unstable. Fortunately, the shouting match had calmed itself down by the time I climbed back in. Now as I write this, Bonolo has fallen over exhausted, laying her fragile frame across my lap. It might have been comforting to feel her breathing like this if Heba wasn’t going out of her way to give me death stares every few minutes. Even worse she seems to be doubly determined to rip this notebook out my hands now, and my mobility is limited if I don’t want to disturb the sleeping refugee on top of me. Conversation has largely died down, good or bad. Only tinny country stations are available in these back roads, making an eerie backdrop to the dusk enveloping the roads. I asked Sandra if she had a plan on where she was going, but against my expectations she answered me. She says she wants to at least get out of Florida before we spend the night anywhere. It’s starting to look like we’ll be spending the night in this beat-up van, which while more suspicious, the worn leather is a lot nicer than the hard ground. As the light fades and I begin to tune out the radio, I’m left with the delicate cat against me. She feels like a skeleton… well all except for one part. Her stomach is noticeably more padded than the rest of her. If I understand correctly, whatever it is, it’s likely my child. The thought horrifies me, it feels like another blow against my refusal to believe what happened back there really occurred. Even more so, it makes it more likely the rest of these women are pregnant, they just don’t show signs of it yet. The notion is just too much for me to process right now. I’m having trouble imaging any future where I can simply separate myself from what has happened. These women certainly won’t be able to. My old life is dead and gone. Maybe if I can ju [END OF TRANSCRIPT] *ADDITIONAL INVESTIGATIVE NOTES - The last portion of this document is abruptly cut-off with a long ink streak indicating the item was pulled away from the suspect. - This document was discovered discarded in a roadside ditch, on the outskirts of Wacissa, Florida. - Please, the FFI would like to remind anyone with information that these suspects are considered dangerous and should not be approached personally, they should only be interacted with by FFI personnel for the safety of everyone involved. - Be warned that withholding information important to this investigation may result in SEVERE CONSEQUENCES.