Ranger Martin (Book 2): Ranger Martin and the Alien Invasion

by Flacco, Jack

  “That’s what I thought.” Baskins said, pulling his knife from its holster and scrapping the mud from the bottom of the body’s shoes.

  “What is it, sir?” One of the voices in the crowd asked.

  Examining the mud on the shoes, he sampled a wedge and crumpled the piece in his fingers. “The mud’s still fresh. We haven’t had rain in a few days.”

  “It rained north of the city. Oak Ridges, sir.” Another voice said.

  “Yeah, I caught the report from our outpost there this morning.”

  “You don’t think this came from up there, do you?”

  “I think who in their right mind would dare kill one of these maggot chewers inside the backseat of a truck.”

  “Maybe someone had placed it there as a warning.”

  Baskins glared at the soldier who pondered on such a great idea.

  The soldier sunk into the unit without saying a word.

  “Whoever killed it did so by straddling it to keep it from moving and plunged the knife in a fit of rage. You can see the holes where the knife landed on the seat. Also, it could be whoever drove the truck didn’t know the zombie was there. Hard for a driver to turn around quickly and throw himself in the backseat. Could be two people who were running away and found the surprise when they thought they were alone. The passenger had to be the one doing the killing. He had enough time to crawl back there.”

  “You think it’s Randall Morrow who did this, sir?”

  The Camaro sat parked waiting for a driver. Its sleek shine, its clean tires, its elegant design, it needed a driver. Pronto. Private Norris walked across the showroom to the area next to the entrance where he thought he would have needed to spend time rifling through a drawer, a cabinet or a box for the keys to the dealership’s centerpiece. He didn’t. The keys sat on the counter almost as if he’d willed them into existence. After he’d grabbed them, his curiosity nudged his head to a tilt, wondering where the keys came from. What were the chances in finding them so quickly? Had someone overheard him?

  His interest pressed Norris to peer slowly over the counter at the aisle between the wall and the front desk. No one was there. Then why did he have a feeling someone had placed the keys on the counter?

  “Everyone back in the trucks, now! We’re moving out!” The voice outside screamed.

  Private Norris slammed the keys back where he found them and Private Witham joined him at the entrance. They burst from the showroom’s front door, trotted outside and filed into the Humvees along with the rest of the unit. “Oak Ridges.” One of the solders said.

  The lead vehicle revved its engine and made the first turn to head north from Center Street. The rest followed, dust trailing behind. They were gone as quickly as they’d came, leaving the parking lot empty of military presence.

  Inside, through the showroom doors, around the counter, silence finally hit. The area between the wall and the counter appeared empty. The cabinet with the keys was open. The keys to the trucks were no longer there. And the sound of a squeak, that of a mouse scampering from one side of the wall to another, broke the silence.

  Matty and Randy had disappeared. Or so it seemed.

  A rattle from under the counter frightened the mouse to scurry in the opposite direction. One of the cabinet doors quietly slid open and a head popped out.

  “They’re gone.” Matty said.

  With a huge crash to the floor, the teens collapsed on one another from inside the counter cabinet. For a while, they held each other but more trying to figure out what to do next than anything else. Matty cleared her throat, and Randy’s awkward smile forced him to hop to his feet. After he had helped her up, a brief glance passed between them, a reassurance they were once again safe from the military’s grasp.

  Gathering her knapsack from within the cupboard, she laced one strap around her right shoulder. Had the teens been taller or fully-grown, they wouldn’t have fit in the cabinet. They were lucky, and they exchanged a few nods to acknowledge that fact.

  “C’mon. We have to tell Ranger they’re after you.” Matty waved at Randy. “Let’s get the trucks hitched and ready to go.”

  “You’re forgetting something.” Randy said, then smiled.

  She looked around and scanned her surroundings. She had everything.

  Not everything. Randy grabbed the keys to the Camaro and tossed them to her. “Ranger owes us for this.”

  Chapter 11

  Dawn loomed, and Ranger and Jon shared a small bag of almonds while sitting on a bench overlooking a bronze statue at Perry Park. They kept guard over the supplies stashed under another statue next to them. Not much to guard other than knapsacks filled with guns and ammo, sleeping bags, a couple of pots and pans, and a small propane stove for those times when they had no wood to burn for a fire. Charlie sat by himself to the side on another bench twenty feet away. Any conversation between Ranger and Jon remained private. Other than a gentle wind howling between trees, the area was silent. No people walking, buzzing to their offices; no cars passing, honking their horns to get to their missed appointments; and no dogs barking, cats meowing, birds chirping or babies crying. Peace.

  “What happened to you and Matty when you left without me?” Ranger asked, dipping his hand in the bag, retrieving several almonds and passing the bag to Jon.

  “Boy, was she mad at you. She wanted to go back to Worship Square to find Wildside.”

  “How could she? We all know what happened?”

  “She thought if she could find him, you’d show up and it could go back to the way it was. You know, plenty of food, safe behind an electrified fence, and without anything bothering us.”

  “Then she would’ve been on a foolhardy search for paradise.”

  “You got to admit, Ranger. We were safe in the silo.”

  “Until the military wanted their property back. Then we’d be like junkyard dogs with the chain fastened around our neck, barkin’ at nothing with no one to hear us die.”

  Jon poured a handful of nuts and gave the bag back to Ranger. “Is it hard killing a zombie?”

  “Now you know I don’t condone you killin’, not when you’re eight years old.”

  “Oh, I know, I was just curious. Do you feel anything when you put one of those rat bags in their grave?”

  He munched and studied the statue ahead. “They ain’t alive, Jon, if that’s what you meant. They’re an evil breed and care only for themselves. If it was up to them, we’d all be undead. They’d have nothin’ to live for but to enjoy the death of another one of their victims.”

  “Doesn’t make much sense. If we’re all undead, there wouldn’t be any more victims.”

  “Nothin’ has made much sense since the change.”

  Jon chewed on the almonds, crunching every bite to savor the flavor. Ranger’s attention turned elsewhere. He gazed at Charlie who in turn sat and stared without fussing or fidgeting. The boy’d decided he was happier alone than to be with other people who could have caused him further grief. He wished he had his family again.

  “What about Charlie?” Ranger popped an almond in his mouth, and spoke through his bites. “What’s his story?”

  Jon leaned into Ranger and whispered. “One of the alien dogs tore his sister’s head off and spat it right in front of him. Charlie blamed Matty for her death for a while until he smartened up.”

  “Much like Matty blames me for a lot of things?”

  “Don’t worry, Ranger, Matty’ll forgive you. You’ll see. She’ll come back in a better mood soon and will have forgotten everything.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “I’m positive. Besides, she needs you more than she knows.”

  Ranger kept his eye on Charlie while chewing on the nuts and in an instant rose to his feet. “Don’t move, I’ll be back.”

  “No use trying.” Jon said. “He doesn’t talk much.”

  Ranger ambled along the path to stand next to Charlie’s bench. Rather than sitting and starting a conversation with th
e kid, Ranger offered him the bag of almonds. Charlie broke from his staring session to look at the bag, then Ranger’s face. He didn’t know him and he hadn’t spoken to him before. The baseball cap made him look like family, and when his eyes once again landed on the bag of nuts, Ranger motioned with his hand to take it. Hesitating at first, Charlie succumbed to his hunger, grabbed them and ate.

  Soon after having won his trust, Ranger sat at the end of Charlie’s bench but never once looked at him. He didn’t want to make the kid feel he had to talk. He chose to sit in silence for several minutes before he spoke. Charlie’s interest, though, remained glued to the bag of almonds, consuming them without resting between bites.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your sister.” Ranger said, after having cleared his throat.

  For a moment, Charlie stopped chewing, but then continued.

  “I lost my brother to the undead. Didn’t know if I could have done anything more.”

  No response. Charlie kept occupied with the snack.

  “I don’t blame you for not talkin’. Ain’t nothin’ you can do to bring her back.”

  Charlie wrapped the bag of almonds in a ball and threw them at Ranger who caught them without a problem. “Everyone has to go sometime. I thought I’d of gone first. Not my younger sister. She didn’t deserve to die the way she did.”

  “No one deserves to die. The ones who deserve to die are the ones who made this hell we’re livin’ in. No one can say we’re here to make friends either. But if we’re here, experiencin’ the same thing, goin’ through the same thing, we might as well make the best of it. Don’t you think?”

  Not a word. Charlie knew Ranger wanted him to talk, but he didn’t have anything to say. Not yet, anyway.

  “You know, I don’t blame you for not talkin’. I’d probably do the same thing. I remember a time when my Momma wanted me to tend the cows out back of the stalls. We lived on a farm and tendin’ cows became a chore for all the boys growin’ up. My brother, being the prince that he was, never tended after ‘em. Momma wouldn’t have it. So I had to do everything. We had hired hands and all, but Momma wanted me to do it on account it’d teach me discipline. I was about your age. Ever tend cows? Not fun, let me tell you. Manure everywhere. Slippin’ and slidin’. You need galoshes and a shovel to scoop that stuff from the ground. We had piles of it. One afternoon, a few hours before supper, I had finished my tendin’ when I noticed I missed a spot. I grabbed the shovel again, scooped the manure and walked to the mound outside. Well, the galoshes I had on were loose and my mind was thinkin’ on other things. I didn’t see where I stepped.”

  Charlie’s head rose and his attention fell on Ranger for the first time.

  “Not a pretty sight. I slipped and the shovel flew from my hand. I landed face first in the wretched pile. It’d covered me whole.”

  A smile slid on Charlie’s face.

  “I had all I could do from not getting sick. My hands? Covered. My arms, chest and face? Full of it. I pushed myself to my feet and, well, I wiped it from my eyes, then knew right there my momma was gonna to kill me.”

  The smile on Charlie’s face turned to laughter. Jon had joined them earlier in the story and saw how he had lost it. That pushed him to hold his gut as he bent and snorted. When he saw Jon laugh, Charlie’s eyes watered even more. The bellows coming from his diaphragm spilled everywhere. The image of Ranger covered in manure had set him off and he couldn’t stop.

  Ranger rose and cracked his knuckles. With a big grin on his face, he stood there quite proud of himself for making the boys laugh. Yet, his face soon turned thoughtful. Studying the street, he couldn’t help but wonder where Matty and Randy had gone.

  Chapter 12

  Corporal Wilkins raced one flight of stairs after another, then burst through the exit from the bottom of the watchtower. His legs carried him along the inside perimeter of the camp’s fence, between the prisoner barracks, through the courtyard to crash the door to General Grayson’s outer office and barge into his main office.

  “They’re here, general. They’re here!” Wilkins stood at attention while panting hard.

  “Thank you, corporal. Ready the prisoners.” The general set his cap on his head.

  “Yes, sir.” He saluted the general and tore from his spot into the outer office.

  “Corporal.”

  “Sir?”

  “Leave the three prisoners in the brig until the very end. I want them to see what will become of them.”

  “Yes, sir.” Another salute and he was off.

  It didn’t end there. Another soldier burst through the door of the outer office, saw the general and stood at attention holding his salute. “General, sir. The inspection is here.”

  “What? They weren’t supposed to show up until tomorrow.”

  The soldier stood there with a loss for words.

  “Fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  * * *

  At dawn, when the general stepped from his office to the deck, cap on his head, uniform in pristine condition, he gazed to his right at the ship in the sky above. Circular in shape and silver, rotating colored lights ran along the edge of its circumference and it hovered over a square cage between General Grayson’s office and the mess hall. Before sunrise, the soldiers had transferred all the prisoners from the barracks to the center of the cage. Missing from the crowd, Harold, David and Billy stood shackled to the barrack deck posts, facing the cage from a distance. Military Police had their guns pointed at the boys’ heads forcing them to witness what would become of the lot.

  The ship emitted a white, blinding light on the crowd. The general’s seen it all before, though. First, the white light would flood the crowd. Second, the rotating lights would turn green, covering the entire base. Third, the white light would turn purple and usher the change in the mass.

  A group of soldiers had approached the general. They had news and waited until the general acknowledge them with a salute, which he did.

  “Where are they?” General Grayson asked.

  “We have them waiting in the mess hall, sir.”

  “Why didn’t you bring them to my office?”

  “There are too many, Sir.”

  “Too many?” The general clenched his hand right hand. His gun hand. “Damn government officials can’t keep things simple. Can’t they see we’re in the middle of conversions?”

  “Beg your pardon, sir. Not only government officials.”

  “More than suits?” He unclenched his hand.

  “The others also, sir.”

  Grayson’s eyebrows rose as he wondered what they were doing there. At the same time, the rotating lights from the saucer turned green. The crowd began to scream not knowing what to do since the fence kept them in place. The general trotted the steps from the deck of his office, cut a path through his soldiers and marched across the courtyard toward the mess hall.

  Harold and David couldn’t watch people they knew, people who had traveled with them to the camp in trains and trucks, suffer in a way they would have never imagined. They closed their eyes in hopes it would all go away, but the MPs who guarded them shoved the pair in order to convince them to keep their eyes open. Billy, however, had seen more in his lifetime than any of his friends. Whatever would happen to the prisoners in the cage, he needed to know.

  The doors to the mess hall burst open, and the general strode to the center where two tables faced him side by side. On the opposite side sat six men in suits. Government people knew how to make an entrance at the wrong time. The general gazed at them, but instead of offering a greeting, as he had done on previous occasions, he sauntered past them to the back of the mess hall window where he took to watching the light show outside with his hands clasped behind his back.

  Their heads turned to the general behind them, and in their chairs one of them asked, “General, if we may?”

  “One minute.”

  “General!” The suit shook in his seat.

  “One minute, I said.” The gene
ral studied the spectacle from the window.

  From the belly of the saucer, the white light changed to purple. Within the cage, the prisoners wailed in agony as they thrust forward unable to control their muscles.

  By this time, the suits tapped their fingers on the table, scratched their foreheads, and shuffled their feet with impatience.

  Outside, Harold and David had the same idea. They buried their eyes in their shoulders while Billy gawked at the cage and the prisoners shaking in their shoes. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the prisoners as the ship’s light lifted them from their spots, screaming in agony as a red mist evaporated from their skin and into the ship’s disk. Eventually, like his friends, Billy, too, buried his face into his shoulder unable to endure seeing the others suffer.

  When the purple light switched to white, the bodies in the cage dropped to the ground. The disk retracted into the saucer and the colored rotating lights switched back on. The soldiers holding their position outside the fences stood at the ready.

  “General. I’m sure you have other things on your agenda, but we’re running on a timetable.”

  “I’m not going to repeat myself again.” The general growled, maintaining his stance at ease as he continued to watch from the window of the mess hall.

  Seven soldiers trotted in place outside the cage’s fence. They formed a line along one side with SCAR rifles pointed downward. They waited. A commander at the end of the line stood at attention studying the mass of bodies lying in the center of the cage whose breath had left them. Their skin had grown pale and lifeless. No mistaking them from their former selves, they had died a terrible death by the light of the alien ship.

  A slight smile stretched from one corner of the general’s mouth as he thought how it all resembled a canvas of art. The bright lights, the intense emotion, the contrast of freedom with the caged, he couldn’t keep from watching and not appreciating the beauty behind it all.

  Minutes flew by before movement began to surface from the caged bodies. Moans drifted from the pile of twisted arms and legs into the ears of the soldiers standing at the ready, gripping their rifles and maintaining their formation.