First Wave

There's no quatrain for this journal entry. I guess Nostradamus didn't see every little mess I'd walk into. Too bad. I could've used the warning. I got spotted by a cop in Cascade County, Montana, while checking out a lead on possible alien activity. A deputy pegged me as a fugitive while I was eating my steak and eggs. I got away and made it to the woods, but the manhunt was on. A dozen sheriff's deputies, a couple bloodhounds, and a surveillance chopper breathing down my neck. I called Eddie on the cell phone. He told me to head west and he'd meet me. If I made it! Eddie tipped me to tear up the underbrush to muck up the scent trail and confuse the dogs. It gave me enough time to make it to the river and evade the dogs. I thought I had shaken my pursuers. The leg chains thrown at my feet said different. I was caught. He had the uniform of a U.S. Marshall, but I knew otherwise. I recognized him as the alien hitman (or Acolyte) who took out Elton Beleye a little ways back.