The year is 2076, I’m tied, hungry, and wounded. I haven’t eaten anything in 6 months, 5 of which I was fighting a new kind of alien like zombie, the Skillon.
It had scales of a reptile and flesh hanging out like a zombie. It had sharp teeth and with blood oozing out of it’s mouth and if it bit you, you automatically turn to one of them; I managed to escape that, because apparently, I’m already one of them. My name is Trent Dickerson, and I am the last survivor.

6 months of pain and still no sign of the end of this horrific war. You would think some other alien species will come and save me, but signs of that are slim. It’s just a matter of time before I die, and the human race completely gone. These are my journal entries for the 7th, 8th, and 9th months.

I found little food and little water. The first month I had nothing to eat because of quarantine. Now I just have 3 MREs and 4 bottles of water left. That means 1 bottle of water per MRE and 1 for just when I get thirsty.

Month 7, I’m still fighting, still alive, down to 1 MRE and 1 bottle of water. I’m really hungry.

Month 8, I’m still fighting, out of food; still have half a bottle of water though.

Month….. Wait what month is it? I’m going to die soon I just know it.

They came, the alien species. I was so relived when they gunned down the aliens that were in my area. They gave me food and a lot of water. When I told them I was part alien, they were shocked. They said to me, in English, “Your part of our family now.”

I thanked them and took me to their home planet. It was beautiful with their sun shining on us and the tall alien looking buildings, it was cool.

The alien that talked to me said his name was Shawn. An Earth name, that’s weird, I thought. He said that humans that are aliens come here to be true aliens. Sense practically they are humans, too. I decided to stay.