Session 4 - Trif's Alternity - Kellie

We're still driving, of course, but for some reason everything is different again. Sam is there, bleeding out, we're driving a huge van instead and I remember snakes again, not robots. And we pull into the hospital again, the same damn hospital we left a day or two ago.

We've got a surgeon this time, though, and he gets to work on Sam right away. There's even more people there, Malcolm, Sylvia and Pete. I don't even really try to explain the shifts, it doesn't seem worth it any more. At least Tequila and Nick seem to know what's going on this time. We're not there a half hour when one of them, Malcolm, manages to run afoul of a frigging snake head. I take that one out with a gory head shot. Malcolm sure is a noisy sonofabitch.

I wander around looking for the generator, but no such luck. I do find a fucking huge vat of snakes though. Jesus Christ, Mal, Sylvia and Pete knew about them and just left them there. I rally the troops, or at least Nick, Sam, Mark and Sylvia, and we head back to try to take care of the snakes.

There's six more snakeheads in the tank room now and there's a fight on. Mark manages to take down three, Tequila kills one and we manage to knock out the other two. After the fight is almost won, Pete finally graces us with his presence; he pours out a tank of gasoline into the tub of snakes and lights it. The stench of 'snake barbecue' is disgusting.

The snakes are squirming on the ground and I stomp one. Tequila tries to remove one of the snakes from a living host only to tear out his throat. I think I throw up on the inside of my mouth.

I think it's funny that I find myself really missing werewolves and robots.

Session 3 - Trif's Alternity - Kellie

I think I've said it before, but it bears repeating, I love my guns. What I don't love is robots.

I'm also beginning to think I need to just roll with whatever sanity I have. The last thing I remember of the werewolves is getting my arm stabbed by Jessie and him sort of melting away. After that, I'm stumbling over my own two feet, at the entrance to the emergency room, lights off, flashlight in hand. Jessie's not there, the doc's not there and suddenly I have no idea why I'm there.

I go back out to the car, which is not the car I remember, and instead of Sam laid out in the back with a sucking chest wound, it's Jessie. There's actually no Sam at all and the driver is some guy I've never even met before named Nick. Tequila is there, though, and he is under the impression I was sweeping the hospital for robots.

All I can think is that Jessie said that guns don't work on robots and I'm suddenly very scared that it's not werewolves any more. The silver lining is a High Energy Radio Frequency (HERF) gun that I apparently cooked up in this reality. It's supposed to be good verse robots. Thank god I'm not a horrible idiot here. Everyone thinks I'm crazy though. Jessie didn't, I asked, even with the chest wound, he remembers werewolves.

We couldn't find a doctor, just some police bomb tech named Mark. The new-old guy, Nick, is a EMT so he does his best on Jessie.

It's not good enough.

I can't really say how I feel about that; I suppose the word is numb. I don't remember losing anyone but him. We supposedly lost a lot of people while I was in some NYC underground, but I don't remember them. Just before he dies, Jessie apologizes for stabbing me, and I realize my arm doesn't even hurt any more.

I ask Tequila about it afterwards. Everyone in the underground though Jessie was crazy, and Tequila's not even sure I'm not crazy. I keep talking and talking, about the gas station, about the werewolves, about the crazy army guy who got mauled instead of Jessie. Somehow I eventually jog his memory, and Nick's a little, I think. I don't remember Mark before this so I'm not sure there is anything there to jog. What is it about us that makes us keep our memories? Is it Jessie? Will that stop now that he's dead? Will I see him again if we shift again? I hope we shift again, that way I can tell him I understand. I hope I'll remember.

It seemed so easy for Jessie to remember all the places he'd been. I'm not sure if I pity him or envy him. It's only three realities in and I'm not sure I can keep keeping them straight. I can't even remember this world about robots until hours in, when I'm staring at my HERF and I can't remember making it and I can't remember if it works or anything. I'm starting to think I'm just completely crazy, but eventually it starts to fuzz into place.

I can say with absolute certainty that it works at at least 30 meters, and we now have parts of a blown up robot. We'd were tracked down by a helicopter robot, and I get to do my first field test of the thing that I can remember. It was actually pretty cool, nerd science at work. I'm glad I printed out these plans off the internet before all the electronics went dark.

The 'here' memories and the 'there' memories are starting to integrate into my mind. I worry about storage space, though. In my mind, I have that box labeled 'snakes', the one for 'werewolves' and now I also have the one for 'robots'. I'm worried I'm going to run out of room.

We gas up and drive and gas up and drive and then when it starts to get dark we pull over and get ready to sleep. We end up stopping in what is apparently Otselic, NY and sleep in a little diner. There's no gas to be had, the station has been pumped dry, there's no food in the diner, nothing. It's clear there were people left living here and they've long since picked the resources clean, but we crash for the night.

When my watch is on, I find out we had a late night visitor, named Jeff. Apparently, he's been holed up in the area. He warned us off of smoking or sleeping in view of the windows, that sort of thing. Stupid stuff we probably should have figured out for ourselves.

The next morning, I'm happy to leave the survivalists behind. At least we're doing something, heading to Canada isn't much, but it's something. They were just bunkering down and waiting for someone else to do something about it. It's not like the robots or the werewolves will stop themselves. Also, I have to remember, something about our car might attract robots. Jeff apparently said something about the alternator being noticeable to them. I'll figure it out, I just hope I keep remembering it.

We stop for gas when we're almost out but the station seems to have been bombed out. There's a government car and a lot of exploded stuff. I'm on 'ransack the quick mart' duty for food, beverage and --- corpse. The corpse was some government man, I assume he went with the government car. I'm not a medic but I'm pretty sure he died of glass and concussive force. He had with him a gun, which I took --- you can never have too many guns, and several notebooks.

Fueled up and on the road I cracked open one of them and started to read. I'm not sure what everyone else might have had to read, but my notebook had technical specifications for something pretty high level, a computer or robot thing. I'm pretty sure I didn't get it right away, probably on account of picking it off a dead body, but I promised myself I'll take a better look at it next time my head is clearer.

Session 2 - Trif's Alternity - Kellie

My chosen hobby has a lot of room for crazy, nut job, kool-aid drinkers who think the government is out to get them and the only way to deal is to embrace the second amendment like some favorite lover, but damn am I glad for them today.

Having my apartment overrun with werewolves, who may also have been snake people and maybe, at another point, robots, sure makes a girl love her guns.

Riding down the highway, listening to NPR soft jazz and end of the world rhythms also tends to put someone into a bit of a mood. It gave me a lot of time to think about the three werewolf-snakemen and then two more werewolves and god this whole thing has got my brain turned inside out.

Jessie isn't really helping. But I still can't tell if he's crazy, I'm crazy or we're both just crazy together. But temporarily safe, doing seventy-five miles per hour on our way to Canada on the lark of a probably-crazy kid makes me think maybe I've drunk that crazy-kool-aid too.

I killed four creatures today. One was definitely a werewolf, took his jaw clean off with a very nice shot, if i do say so myself, which I do, from a moving vehicle. The other three, well I can't even be sure now, I remember snakes and I remember werewolves and I *don't* remember snake-werewolves so it probably wasn't something in between.

I'd never shot something before today, well something that was alive before I shot it. Punching a few holes through a little piece of paper at 200m is one thing, taking some crazy werewolf's face off is something really different, I can't even begin to sort it out.

I'm just lucky I brought a gun to a werewolf fight.

And now my arm hurts, not from snakes or werewolves but from Jessie who's screaming for me to remember him. The kid's probably given me a scar to prove it, and I keep thinking, are mom and dad alright is James alright down in DC and did Bob from the gun range make it out of the city.

And goddamn I'm hungry. I could really go for some beef chow mein.