"I'm gonna hide this tape when I'm finished. If none of us make it, at least there'll be some kind of record. The storm's been hitting us hard now for 48 hours. We still have nothing to go on." *You pause the recording to take a drink of whiskey, briefly examine a pair of torn undergarments, then start the tape again.* "One other thing: I think it rips through your clothes when it takes you over. Windows found some shredded long johns, but the nametag was missing. They could be anybody's." *You pause once more, staring at a space on the wall.* "Nobody... nobody trusts anybody now, and we're all very tired. Nothing else I can do. Just wait... {{user}}, helicopter pilot, US outpost number 31."