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stevew84
September 22nd, 2016, 04:17 PM
UPDATED REVISION POST #6


An emergency broadcast system message scrawls across the TV screen, interrupting Paul and his daily channel surfing.


“This is not a test—I repeat—this is not a test. The National Guard has initiated a state of emergency. You are advised to remain in your homes. Do not attempt to leave the area. Further instructions will be given shortly. Again, this is not a test.”


“State of emergency?” Paul whispers.


The window of Paul’s 10th floor apartment is shut, but muffled hollering can be heard. Looking through, there are dozens of people walking on the sidewalk and even some standing outside of their cars. Everyone is staring in the same direction; most of them snap pictures with their phones while others run into nearby buildings, including Paul’s. He opens the window and hangs halfway onto the stoop.


Something is in the sky. Something that doesn’t belong.


A gray, spherical object hovers just between a few cotton-ball like clouds. It has no texture and resembles a ball bearing, minus the chrome shine. The cloud cover around the object slowly dissipates to reveal a perfect circle of bright blue sky surrounding it. As other clouds pass, they too are erased by whatever this is.


Paul rushes to his cell phone – no signal. He puts it in his pocket anyway, throws on some shoes and heads out. The cavernous hall echoes with the murmuring of other tenants, some are flustered more so than others.


“Does your internet work?” a woman says to her neighbor.


“No, does your phone?” The neighbor responds.


“It’s the aliens man, I told you!” one man says to Paul, half jokingly.


“Probably just some government test, at least that’s what they’ll tell us,” Paul says while he continues to walk toward the elevator.


Paul has never been one of those the truth is out there people, but he isn’t a complete skeptic either. The thought of aliens one day coming to Earth would sometimes cross his mind, but never did he think he’d be alive to witness it actually happen.


Janine, Paul’s neighbor, holds the elevator with one of her purple fluffy slippers wedged against the door.


“I can dig it.” Paul says while looking directly at her feet. She doesn’t respond, but instead slaps the back of her hand against his shoulder.


“What do you think is going on?” she asks.


“Who knows, people love to freak out over anything mysterious,” he answers. “If something crazy really is happening, you’ll be the one I rescue and live happily ever after with.”


Janine is the type of woman that Paul has always wanted; they’ve shared these friendly conversations in the past, but ultimately went nowhere. Plenty of opportunities have arisen, like the running into each other at a local sci-fi expo, or learning that they frequent the same comic shop. But for some reason, nothing ever gave him that extra motivation to really speak to her in a meaningful way.


She reaches for Paul’s hand and grips a few of his fingers; the swelling of her eyes and the amount of pressure she applies says that she is frightened. But at the same time his body is riddled with a warm feeling of, dare he think it, love; or something very close to it. The elevator opens on the 5th floor where her mother lives. He’s never met her officially but he sometimes would confuse her for Janine at a distance. Good genes.


“Gotta let me borrow your slippers some time!” Paul shouts to Janine before she enters her mom’s apartment.


Paul secretly wants something to be wrong. He hopes this will give him the courage he needs to tell her how he feels and share his intentions.


The lobby of the building is a madhouse. The already too small area is filled with tenants and people from the street who are scared to be out in the open. Just then, the rattles of the floor to ceiling glass along with a gentle rumble from something outside drown out the conversations. Most everyone turns their attention outside.


Tanks roll pass the front doors, with a soldier perched on top shouting through a megaphone for the pedestrians to move out of the way. That should be obvious. Following is a long convoy of various military vehicles along with infantry soldiers on foot, brandishing their rifles and wearing urban fatigues.


Maybe something really is wrong, Paul thinks to himself. He is stuck staring through the pane glass at the apparent war zone that it is neighborhood. A firm bump against his back snaps him out of the trance, and he moves through the crowd of people through the front doors.


The firm instructions of the infantry units fill the streets. “Everyone back up. No civilians past this point.” a large soldier shouts, as a few others place a wooden barrier across the entire street just next to his building.


“What’s the deal, man, why can’t we go that way?” Paul asks.


“Orders.” the soldier said as he points toward the object in the sky.


“Go to Hell; you can’t keep us out of anywhere!” Paul shouts.


The soldier stomps toward Paul, within inches of his face. “You want to cross that barrier, be my guest, but don’t go lookin’ for a rescue.” he says in a calm, yet firm voice.


Paul scoffs and looks up; still it sits there. It also looks larger, but that could very well be his imagination playing tricks. Being street level and in the midst of the others gives Paul a new perspective on the scope of things. The overall commotion surrounding him causes him to feel faint, he has to sit on the curb and collect himself. What is she doing up there? Are they going to be evacuated? Is this the end of everything? He has so many questions running through his mind.


A block over, one of the vehicles in the convoy is fitted with surface to air missiles. The weapon points up toward the mystery in the sky, and lets loose a flurry. The shrieking instinctively has Paul cover his ears and wince in pain from the sudden blast of sound. A plume of white smoke floods the narrow street. Paul, along with everyone else, covers their faces either with their shirt or uses the pit of their elbow and watches as the spiraling smoke trails make their way up toward it. A good 30 seconds pass and the missiles grow smaller and smaller. The anticipation of the explosion instantly dies as they do not hit their target. Instead, the missiles are somehow repelled by the object, sending them in every direction.


The missiles are little more than white specs occasionally catching the sunlight as they hurtle down toward the ground. When they hit, large fireballs and black smoke emerge from beyond the buildings in the distance.


The entire object is now glowing in a brilliant orange, as if a small sun. Paul and the others shield their eyes as the glow intensifies. The vehicle on the ground has a small crew resetting the weapon when suddenly a beam engulfs them. The beam is a solid bright white and lets off an intense heat, but there is no sound. Just like that, it vanishes as if turning off a flashlight. The destruction left behind is a perfect circular shape that scorched the ground, with no remnants of the vehicle or crew. The screams of bystanders break the silence and people flee, ignoring the barriers.


Paul rubs his eyes; flashes of white envelop his vision. He stumbles to a nearby wall, catching himself and presses his back against it. He blinks hard and fast, rubbing every few seconds. His vision slowly returns to normal, but still seeing bits of white.


The familiar roar of fighter jets fills the skies and circles the object, which gives scale to its size. The jets were small in comparison. One by one, they fire, over and over, all resulting in direct hits. After expelling their munitions, they take formation and fly directly over the crowd of people, setting off car alarms.


Paul and the others cheer and yell absurdities at the sky.


The object is loosened from where it sat, but now falls toward the city. The once distant shape is now a behemoth intending on the obliteration of anything in its path. The infantry, along with everyone else, realize that they are in the impact area. In frenzy, the infantry wrangles up as many people as they can into the back of a couple military cargo trucks that are parked on the block.


“There’s people in the building!” Paul shouts as he’s corralled into one of the trucks.


The object is now casting a massive shadow over the entire area.


“No time! We have to go now!” a soldier yells.


Paul checks his cell phone in a last ditch effort to get Janine out of the building, but there is still no reception. He sits there, elbows on his knees, running his hands firmly through his hair, staring at the others who are content in their seats, knowing they’ll be safe. The tail gate of the cargo truck is closed by a soldier who is the last to board. In a split second decision, Paul shoves the soldier out of the way and throws himself out of the truck. He lands with a harsh thud and tumbles along the street, his clothes torn and skin scraped from the impact. The truck barrels down the block before finally turning out of sight.


As he stumbles to the curb, he grabs onto the fire hydrant next to him and recognizes that the object will hit just a few blocks over. He stares at it right until the point of impact. The ground explodes in dirt, cement and steel. The shockwave hits and is so massive that all glass nearby instantly blows out, splashing Paul with nasty little shards. The ground quakes and cracks the pavement, toppling over sections of buildings. His grip of the hydrant breaks and he is flung backward where his head bounces off the sidewalk.


He comes to sometime during the night. Helicopters are overhead shining their searchlights around the wreckage. The streets are pitch black. When he regains his composure, his only thought is Janine. His head pounds when he rises to his feet, but he slogs through the debris to make it back to his apartment building.


After a block or so, the throbbing in Paul’s head subsides and he picks up the pace, using Janine as his motivation. The façade of his building is in shambles, only the framing of the floor to ceiling glass is recognizable.


Inside is no different. The lobby is filled with glass and rubble.


“Hello!? Is anyone here?!” he shouts.


There is no response.


Paul checks the pulse of a man lying on his stomach, with a huge slab of concrete pressing his legs to the ground, but there is nothing he can do. Stepping though the mess, he sees the door to the staircase just ahead. The trek up the five stories takes its toll on Paul. He’s cut up, sore, and concussed. For each floor he is able to traverse, he stumbles halfway down a flight. With a final push, he makes it to the hallway of Janine’s mother’s apartment.


Tenants congregate in the hallway, most of them are covered in dust or bloody from the shattered windows. Their flashlights jump around and make things harder to see.


“Hey Paul? Is that you? You ok?” someone asks, concerned.


“I’ve been better. Can I borrow that?” he answers, shuffling past.


“Sure.” They respond as they hand Paul a flashlight.


Apartment 5-F. He knocks but no answer. With his ear pressed to the door, a woman is heard sobbing. He turns the knob and walks in. There is a woman seated in a chair, crying into her hands, with another woman’s body on the floor, both covered in dust and blood. There is a large red pool on the ground. Shards of glass and rubble fill the apartment and wind whistles through the gaping hole where a wall used to stand.


Paul walks carefully to them. “Janine?” he says.


There is only sobbing.


He looks down at the woman in the pool of blood; her face has been reduced to mush. Paul cringes and looks away when he catches a familiar sight.


The purple slippers. They’re somehow unscathed as Janine sits in the chair. Paul touches her shoulder as she removes her hands from her face to reveal numerous cuts and scratches, similar to his own. He grabs her tightly.


“I’m so sorry.” he says.


“Paul? What made you come back?” she asks.


Taken aback by Janine questioning his reasoning, he responds simply “I told you that if something happened, I’d be here.”


She musters up a slight smile considering the situation.


Paul walks to a bedroom and returns with a blanket to cover her mother, and pulls Janine to the couch so she could be a bit more comfortable.


Unsure of exactly what to do or say, Paul walks around and looks through the window.


“Wow.” Paul says while taking in the destruction.


The object is at least 300 yards in diameter, maybe more. Half of it is buried in the ground while the rest is illuminated by the searchlights. It has a pattern of gray squares, similar to a chess board but less distinct.


“I can’t leave her, she doesn’t have anyone else.” Janine says.


“We won’t. We’ll stay here until something is sorted out. The military has to come back.” Paul says.


Janine stands up and joins Paul at the window, hugging him. The sun peaks up from the horizon.


“Damn, that’s bright.” Paul says.


The sky fills with light almost instantly, and then dims. Along the horizon and across the entire sky lay more of these objects, all with the same gleam of orange as the first.


“I told you I’d be there if something bad happened. I’ll stay with you through whatever is about to happen.” Paul says.


White light engulfs the entire area.

Olly Buckle
September 26th, 2016, 08:29 AM
It is a bit broken up, it gives the impression of a series of fragments that tie together. Try applying the 'Show don't tell' rule, that might well make it flow better.

stevew84
September 26th, 2016, 02:48 PM
It is a bit broken up, it gives the impression of a series of fragments that tie together. Try applying the 'Show don't tell' rule, that might well make it flow better.
Telling rather than showing has plagued most of what I've written for a while now...I have to fix it.

bdcharles
September 27th, 2016, 05:36 PM
Hi,

Couple of things I just want to point out that might help beef it up:

Passive voice

The window of Paul’s 10th floor apartment is shut, but muffled hollering can be heard.
Passive voice tends to undermine urgency. Consider:

The window of Paul’s 10th floor apartment is shut, but muffled shouts from the street below holler up in fearful, alarmed tones.

Dialogue tagging
“Orders.[<- should be a comma or exclamation mark]” the soldier said as he points toward the object in the sky.
“No, does your phone?” [should be lower case t ->]The neighbor responds.
“Does your internet work?” a woman says to her neighbor. [thats how it should be]

Show vs tell
Sometimes this concept can be a little hazy and abstract, so let's use an example:

The infantry, along with everyone else, realize that they are in the impact area.
This is telling us what the infantry did; it's quite distant from the actuality of them doing it. What does it look like when an infantry unit realise they're about to be smooshed? They might run pell mell, a shadow would grow. Let your imagination fly when faced with telling and you can convert it into show:

As one, the cadre of infantry glanced upwards as circular black shadow grew over the area where they stood. Rapidly - too rapidly - it expanded out, engulfing civilians, children, everyone in its terrible umbra.

Hope this helps :)

stevew84
September 27th, 2016, 11:39 PM
Hi,

Couple of things I just want to point out that might help beef it up:

Passive voice

Passive voice tends to undermine urgency. Consider:


Dialogue tagging
“Orders.[<- should be a comma or exclamation mark]” the soldier said as he points toward the object in the sky.
“No, does your phone?” [should be lower case t ->]The neighbor responds.
“Does your internet work?” a woman says to her neighbor. [thats how it should be]

Show vs tell
Sometimes this concept can be a little hazy and abstract, so let's use an example:

This is telling us what the infantry did; it's quite distant from the actuality of them doing it. What does it look like when an infantry unit realise they're about to be smooshed? They might run pell mell, a shadow would grow. Let your imagination fly when faced with telling and you can convert it into show:


Hope this helps :)
Thanks!

I didn't see that I got a response today. I'm actually revising the story now and will post the update later.

stevew84
September 28th, 2016, 03:52 PM
Massive update time.
----------------------

The following message appears on Paul’s TV set.


“This is not a test—I repeat—this is not a test. The National Guard has initiated a state of emergency. You are advised to remain in your homes. Do not attempt to leave the area. Further instructions will be given shortly. Again, this is not a test.”


State of emergency? Paul wonders aloud.


The window of Paul’s 10th floor apartment is shut, but muffled hollers from the street below can be heard. Curious, he peers out. There are people frozen in place either on the side walk or just outside of their cars. The one way street is now a parking lot. Everyone stares in the same direction; most of them snap pictures with their phones while others run into nearby buildings, including Paul’s. He opens the window and hangs halfway onto the stoop. When he looks up, he freezes in a petrified moment.


Something is in the sky.


A gray, spherical object hovers just between a few cotton-ball like clouds. It appears smooth, like a ball bearing, minus the chrome shine. The cloud cover around the object slowly dissipates to reveal a perfect circle of bright blue sky that surrounds it. As other clouds pass, they too are erased by whatever this is.


Paul snaps out of his statuesque pose, rushes to his cell phone – no signal. He puts it in his pocket anyway, throws on some shoes and heads out. His only thought is of Janine, his neighbor and on again off again girlfriend. The cavernous hall echoes with the murmurs of other tenants.


“Does your internet work?” a woman says to her neighbor.


“No, does your phone?”


“It’s the aliens man, I told you!” Paul’s buddy Frank shouts with a smile on his face.


“Probably just some government test, at least that’s what they’ll tell us,” Paul says while he continues to walk toward the elevator.


Paul has never been one of those the truth is out there people, but he isn’t a complete skeptic either. The thought of aliens one day coming to Earth would sometimes cross his mind, but never did he think he’d be alive to witness it actually happen. The amount of sci-fi conventions he had taken Janine to jaded him from any presumed alien invasion or attack. He would never be the type to expect it, but the fact it might be happening doesn’t exactly surprise him.


Janine is inside of the elevator. She holds it open with one of her purple fluffy slippers wedged against the door. Paul forgets the assumed danger outside, if only for a moment when he spots her.


“I can dig it.” Paul says as he looks directly at her feet.


She doesn’t respond, but instead slaps the back of her hand against his shoulder. “What do you think is going on?”


“Who knows, people love to freak out over anything mysterious, If something crazy really is happening, you’ll be the one I rescue and live happily ever after with…unless what’s his name is around.”


She reaches for Paul’s hand and grips a few of his fingers. The amount of pressure she applies and the way her eyes swell lets him know she’s frightened. But at the same time his body is riddled with a warm feeling of, dare he think it, love, or something very close to it. The elevator opens on the 5th floor where her mother lives. He’s never met her officially but he sometimes would confuse her for Janine at a distance. Good genes.
Paul squeezes her hand when she tries to pull away.


“Hey, please stay inside.”


She simply smiles before she walks down the hall. The elevator door closes but Paul hits the door open button
.
“Gotta let me borrow your slippers some time!” Paul shouts just before she enters her mom’s apartment.


The small lobby is filled with tenants and other people Paul doesn’t recognize. Just then, the rattles of the floor to ceiling glass along with a gentle rumble from something outside drowns out the conversations. The people turn their attention to the street.


Tanks roll pass the front doors, with a soldier perched on top shouting through a megaphone for the pedestrians to move out of the way. What follows is a long convoy of various military vehicles along with infantry soldiers on foot who brandish their rifles and wear urban fatigues. Some small children in the lobby look excited to see the huge tanks.


Maybe something really is wrong, Paul thinks. He is stuck as he stares through the pane glass at the apparent war zone that is his neighborhood. His parents cross his mind, but they’re in the middle of nowhere. They probably aren’t even aware of what’s going on. A firm bump against his back snaps him out of the trance. The mass of people behind him carry him through the front doors.


The firm instructions of the infantry units fill the streets. “Everyone back up. No civilians past this point.” a large soldier shouts, as a few others place a wooden barrier across the entire street just next to his building.


“What’s the deal, man, why can’t we go that way?” Paul asks.


“Orders,” the soldier said as he points toward the object in the sky.


Paul looks up. He realizes that this isn’t one of his science fiction books or comics where he can be the passive viewer. He’s right in the thick of it. Being street level and in the midst of the others gives Paul a new perspective on the scope of things. The overall commotion that surrounds him causes him to feel faint. He has to sit on the curb and collect himself. What is she doing up there? Are they going to be evacuated? Is this the end of everything?


A block over, past the barricade, one of the larger vehicles is mounted by a handful of soldiers. They all hop off of it and run around a corner down an alley. Out of nowhere the vehicle lets out a shriek followed by a large plume of white smoke. Paul covers his ears and winces in pain from the sudden blast of sound. Missiles shoot to the sky as Paul covers his face with his shirt. A good 30 seconds pass and the missiles grow smaller and smaller. The anticipation of the explosion instantly dies as they do not hit their target. Instead, the missiles are somehow repelled by the object, sending them in every direction.


The missiles are little more than white specs that occasionally catch the sunlight as they hurtle down toward the ground. When they hit, large fireballs and black smoke emerge from beyond the buildings in the distance.
The entire object now glows in a brilliant orange, like a small sun. Paul shields his eyes. The soldiers from the alley run back to the vehicle when suddenly a beam engulfs them. The beam is a solid bright white and lets off an intense heat that Paul can feel a block over, but there is no sound. Just like that, it vanishes as if a flashlight was just switched off. The destruction left behind is a perfect circular shape that scorches the ground, with no remnants of the vehicle or soldiers. The screams of bystanders break the silence and people flee, ignoring the barriers.


Paul rubs his eyes; flashes of white envelop his vision. He stumbles to a nearby wall, but catches himself and presses his back against it. He blinks hard and fast, rubbing every few seconds. His body trembles from the terrible sight. Some bits of white remain in his vision, but he is able to see.


The familiar roar of fighter jets fills the skies and circles the object. The jets are small in comparison. One by one, they fire, over and over, all resulting in direct hits. After expelling their munitions, they take formation and fly directly over the crowd of people, setting off car alarms.


Paul and the others cheer and yell absurdities at the sky.


The object is loosened from where it sat, but now falls toward the city. The once distant shape is now a behemoth that intends on the obliteration of anything in its path. In frenzy, the infantry wrangles up as many people as they can into the back of a couple military cargo trucks that are parked on the block. The object blocks the sun momentarily.


“There’s people in the building!” Paul shouts as he’s corralled into one of the trucks.


“No time! We have to go now!” a soldier yells.


Paul checks his cell phone in a last ditch effort to get Janine out of the building, but there is still no reception. He sits there, elbows on his knees, and runs his hands firmly through his hair. He stares at the others who are content in their seats. The tail gate of the cargo truck is closed by a soldier who is the last to board. Paul shoves the soldier out of the way and throws himself out of the truck. He lands with a thud and tumbles along the street, his clothes tattered and skin scraped. The truck barrels down the block before finally turning out of sight.


As he stumbles to the curb, he grabs onto a fire hydrant next to him and recognizes that the object will hit just a few blocks over. He stares at it right until the point of impact. The ground explodes in dirt, cement and steel. The shockwave hits and is so massive that all glass nearby instantly blows out, splashing Paul with nasty little shards. The ground quakes and cracks the pavement, toppling over sections of buildings. His grip of the hydrant breaks and he is flung backward where his head bounces off the sidewalk.


He comes to sometime during the night. Helicopters are overhead that shine their searchlights around the wreckage. Everything is pitch black. When he regains his composure, his only thought is Janine. His head pounds when he rises to his feet, but he slogs through the debris to make it back to his apartment building.
After a block, the throbs in Paul’s head subsides and he picks up the pace, using Janine as his motivation. The façade of his building is in shambles, only the framing of the floor to ceiling glass is recognizable.
Inside is no different. The lobby is filled with glass and rubble.


“Hello!? Is anyone here?!” he shouts.


There is no response.


Paul checks the pulse of a man that lies on his stomach, with a huge slab of concrete that pancakes his legs to the ground, but there is nothing he can do. When he steps through the mess, he sees the door to the staircase just ahead. For each floor he is able to traverse, he stumbles halfway down a flight. He’s cut up, sore, and concussed. With a final push, he makes it to the hallway of Janine’s mother’s apartment.


Tenants congregate in the hallway, most of them are covered in dust or bloody from the shattered windows. Their flashlights jump around and make things harder to see.


“Hey Paul? Is that you? You ok?” someone asks, concerned.


“No, look outside! I’m anything but ok,” he answers, as he shuffles past.


Apartment 5-F. He knocks but no answer. With his ear pressed to the door, he hears a woman sob. He turns the knob and walks in. Shards of glass huge chunks of cement and rebar fill the apartment. Wind whistles through the gaping hole where a wall used to stand. There is a woman seated in a chair that cries into her hands, with another woman’s body on the floor, both covered in dust and blood. There is a large red pool on the ground.


Paul walks carefully to them. “Janine?” he says.


Only cries.


He looks down at the woman in the pool of blood; her face has been reduced to mush. Paul cringes and looks away.


The purple slippers. They’re somehow unscathed as Janine sits in the chair. Paul touches her shoulder as she removes her hands from her face to reveal numerous cuts and scratches, similar to his own. He grabs her tightly.


“I’m so sorry,” he says.


“Paul? What made you come back?”


“I told you that if something happened, I’d be here.”


She musters up a slight smile given the situation.


Paul walks to a bedroom and returns with a blanket to cover her mother, and pulls Janine to the couch so she could be a bit more comfortable.


Unsure of exactly what to do or say, Paul walks around and looks through the window.


“Wow,” Paul says as he takes in the destruction.


The object is at least 300 yards in diameter, maybe more. Half of it is buried in the ground while the rest is illuminated by the searchlights. It has a pattern of gray squares, similar to a chess board but less distinct. The casualties must be in the hundreds.


“I can’t leave her,” Janine says.


“We won’t. We’ll stay here until something is sorted out. The military has to come back.”


Janine stands up and joins Paul at the window, hugging him. The sun peaks up from the horizon.


“Damn, that’s bright,” Paul says.


The sky fills with light almost instantly, and then dims. Along the horizon and across the entire sky lay more of these objects, all with the same gleam of orange as the first.

Ptolemy
September 30th, 2016, 04:01 AM
I read the updated version and overall I think it's a pretty decent improvement, I think the "showing not telling" really has an impact on the flow and imagery of the sorry. If you continue to flesh the story out more (I have no idea if you will or not, I kind of hope you do.) I would caution you not to go overboard and "overkill the imagery" it's good to wonder about the mysterious object in the sky, imagination is the readers best friend. Also sometimes it's good for the reader to also have a vague picture of the main character so they can run in the characters shoes. I believe you did this well with Paul, he likes Sci-Fi conventions, he's a pretty gruff guy but not to out going, and you build it well that he's able to man up and go back into the building after Janine. (I did find it weird that he couldn't take it a step further with Janine but could stand up to a soilder, who are around 10 times scarier than talking to a woman.) I also think maybe if could give us a bit more of what Paul is wearing would help to, like a minute description of what shoes is he wearing? Is he wearing a Sci-Fi T-shirt? Jeans or Khakis? I know you can't explicitly state what he is wearing but a bit on how "he rushed out the door almost forgetting to slip on his favorite pair of converses" or something along those lines because clothes can add to his personality as a person even though you did a great job on the external factors already.
I hope this helps in anyway

R.H. Smith
October 27th, 2016, 06:24 PM
Hey Stevew84,

I liked it. You had me engrossed. The only thing I can say is my disbelief flag rose up a bit. I was in the military, and most of what and how you wrote would probably happen, except that before any of that happened, the military would get everyone out before they start their full on attack in the middle of civilians everywhere. I get plagued by show, don't tell as well. It's a common problem.