Somewhere above North America: time unknown

Invasion ongoing

1.

I woke with a gasp, and promptly started to gag as mammalian instincts kicked in and told me I wasn’t meant to float suspended in a column of golden fluid; that I would, in fact, drown and die if I attempted that particular feat. The fact that I’d been doing it without issue for some unknown period of time didn’t seem to matter to my sudden, instinctive conviction that I was going to die.

Thrashing, I slammed my hands against what I assumed was a glass barrier. They broke through with a moist sucking sound, shattering the thin vegetable membrane that had been keeping both me and the fluid contained. It rushed out with a glurping, wet finality, carrying me with it, sending us both crashing to the moss-covered floor. I lay there, naked, wet, and gasping for air that my logical mind was insisting ever more loudly I didn’t actually need.

Moss. Wait. I rolled onto my back, unsurprised when my eyes found a high, distant ceiling of what looked like woven ferns, green and leafy and protecting us from whatever was outside. The moss was cool against my back, almost comforting, like the embrace of a good friend, and—

I sat upright, wiping the slime from my eyes. Friends. My friends. The vines had taken them as they had taken me, and humans—real humans—did need to breathe, no matter what the voice of the forest might try to say. I staggered to my feet, dripping viscous fluid everywhere, and whirled around to look at my surroundings.

I was in what could best be described as a grove, surrounded by trees that looked like a cross between mangroves and ancient oaks. Their trunks were twisted and weathered, each bigger around than most dining room tables. Large yellow fruit hung from their branches. I took a step closer to the nearest. The fruit pulsed, opaque and filled with something that moved, small twitches of animal vitality. I put a hand over my mouth.

It was Jeff.

His eyes were closed and his clothing was gone; the few strips of human-colored skin he had remaining were in the process of detaching from his body, leaving clean green skin behind. His twitching seemed to be entirely automatic, not tied to any kind of conscious motion. If it hadn’t been for the liquid surrounding him, I would have thought he was sleeping.

// yes. //

The whisper was no louder than usual, but was terribly urgent for happening when I was awake. I turned. There were more of those trees, with more yellow, fluid-filled fruits dangling from their branches. There was nothing else. Only trees, and moss, and the strange prisons of my friends.

// come. //