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A [Tir-Torzor] day after the events of what would become known as Exodus Day by the humans on Tir-Torzor, Bruno DeJesus was hiding at an inexpensive lodging establishment.

It is here, he would write the final passages of his work:


 

So, here I am, hiding in a motel, possibly on the run from the law, with no one to turn to. AUER Club is gone, as far as I’m concerned, and the Seekers are gone too, with members either being held by the military or most likely buried under what used to be a factory.

The news is currently saying the factory explosion was likely done by the cult itself, but as someone who personally worked with those kooks, I can confidently say that narrative is a total crock of shit. If anybody asks who was responsible, my money is on the ones who launched a bunch of nukes at the wormhole after the alien spaceship escaped. Luckily, it closed before any of the missiles reached their target. Seriously, how petty do you have to be to blow the shit out of something because you can’t have it? All those people. Innocent people. Gone, in a flash. I hope some made it on the ship. I wonder if Darla made it.

Where is Mike? Did Mike actually have something to do with all of this?

I guess my life as a UFO hunter ends here, thus ending the book.

What to do now? Do I continue to run? How do I know I’m being sought after? Who would come for me? How far would they go?

This is becoming less of a memoir and more of a journal filled with fresh thoughts, isn’t it? I mean, the title was still a work-in-progress but was I even writing a memoir this whole time? This feels like a mistake. This whole thing feels like a mistake. If I do get caught, this whole side project could be used as evidence to keep me locked in a black site for years. I should stop.

No. No, I should continue. I should find a way to leave this country for one that has no extradition laws, and get this book published. People would learn what happened, see right through the lies the powers that be are trying to feed the masses, and it wouldn’t matter what happened to me afterwards because the truth would be out for everyone to read. In fact, it might provide me some protection if I’m in the limelight, though it never stopped the government before. If that’s the case, I should make the most of it. With all the money I’m bound to make, I could buy whatever I wanted. Live however I wanted. I’ll live my life to the fullest, until the day some g-man or some private contractor puts a bullet in my head for knowing too much. The world will be my oyster. I’d be a chick magnet for the first time in my life. I could get aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasdftcvgyhbjkl./,


 

Bruno DeJesus would later be found deceased on the floor of his motel room, in a pool of blood originating from all the orifices in his head. He and the rest of AUER Club were part of the first wave of sudden and bloody deaths to occur that day.

While humans are omnivorous and have wide dietary habits, minare are herbivorous and eat varieties of moss, algae, roots, and fungi. One of the main foods they eat is a species of moss that harbors a parasitic fungus. This fungus developed a symbiotic relationship with the minare, in where they would eat the moss and the fungus would reproduce inside their sinuses. The fungi would then release spores, which would exit the host to infect more moss. This species is completely harmless to all on Irrdnis, and to much plant and animal life on Tir-Torzor. Sadly, it proved fatal to many humans, as the airborne spores would be inhaled and reproduce in the brain and lungs. No problems would develop in the lungs because new spores would be easily exhaled. However, spores in the human brain would often find themselves trapped inside the skull’s pressurized space. The conditions would slow the fungi lifecycle, but eventually they would accumulate and release the spores with such force that the white and grey matter would spontaneously rupture. This kills the infected host almost instantly as the blood and liquified brains seeped from all openings in the head.

As it turned out, due to the absence of protective measures by Randy Wilcox, he contracted the spores soon as he entered the bowels of the self-contained environment of the ship. Once he left the vessel, he unwittingly set in motion a global plague, known to the Humans colloquially as the Falling Red Curtain, (aka The End of the Show / The Scarlet Bomb / The Raging Rupture / Rapture) due to the pouring of blood from the head during near instantaneous death. Unless detected by happenstance, no noticeable complications would arise for months to warrant one to be screened for infection, so the disease continued to spread unabated. Only humans born during and after the plague were guaranteed to be immune to the fungus, whereas immunity seemed to be randomized for everyone else.

This last headline from the Franklin Gazette showed the severity of the worldwide pandemic had on the Humans:

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fsarbolaez

Bio: Writer and one-time promotional entertainment network wannabe.

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