Invaders

by Vaughn Heppner

  Invaders

  by Vaughn Heppner

  Copyright © 2016 by the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

  -1-

  I was driving fast when it happened.

  It was a moonless night as my Chief Cherokee Jeep topped a hill on a single-lane road in the middle of Nevada. My high beams showed endless desert. I was almost to Station 5 of Western Sunlight Inc., a vast solar-collecting plant in the middle of nowhere. The vehicle’s air-conditioner was humming, and the radio was barely playing tunes from a station in Las Vegas.

  We had two new security hires. I was thinking about cutting the headlights and rolling in to see if they were asleep at their posts.

  I bent forward as I saw something in the starry sky. The best way to describe it was like a ripple in the higher altitudes. It was faint, but it definitely rippled. Maybe it was a heat wave of some kind.

  I gripped the steering wheel tighter with my head shoved too far forward. I tracked the ripple. It seemed to speed up—

  It reached the area high over the Chief Cherokee. At that moment, the engine cut out. The dash lights died and so did my headlights. The air-conditioner quit spilling its delightfully cool air.

  My fists clutched the steering wheel with manic intensity. A bump and a lurch smashed the top of my head against the windshield.

  I thumped back against the seat and fought the steering wheel as I raced over desert sand and rocks. I couldn’t remember having left the road, but clearly, I had. I slammed upward against my seat belt as the jeep caromed off a boulder. The steering wheel tried to jerk free of my grip. By main strength, I regained control of the vehicle, straightened out and finally turned back toward the road.

  I listened to the wheels crunching across sand as I lost momentum, finally coming to a stop on the shoulder of the blacktop highway.

  I panted, blinking stupidly and kept thinking, “What in the hell just happened? What was that ripple?”

  I pried my fingers off the steering wheel, frowning. Could I have seen an electromagnetic pulse, an EMP? Real people didn’t see things like that. Yeah, maybe in the movies you would, but not in real life.

  I tried the ignition, but there was nothing. My jeep was dead.

  I took out my cell phone. It was dead, too.

  Whatever that rippling event had been, it had messed with all electronics.

  Could something bad have happened at Station 5? Could the newbies have caused…I don’t know, something that made a ripple in the night sky?

  Why would the ripple have started in the high altitudes then? It would have been a low-level thing like a Warthog attack.

  The Warthog was the Air Force’s A-10 ground attack plane. The flyboys hated them, but in my humble opinion, they were the best thing in the air-jockey outfit.

  I used to be in the Marines myself. That had been ten years ago, or as I liked to count it, five jobs and one marriage ago.

  I got out of the jeep and looked up at the stars. They blazed overhead like gems. A cool night breeze blew.

  I muttered a few choice words, collected my .44 and shoved it into the holster of my shoulder rig.

  I was wearing a cheap suit and cheaper dress shoes, but I decided to hoof it to the station. It was approximately six miles away from here. If they’d lost power, too—

  A chill fear worked down my spine.

  “Get a grip,” I told myself. “There’s an easy explanation for all this. You’ve just got to find it.”

  I felt a little better after the pep talk. So I locked the jeep, and started walking down the blacktop toward the station.

  The first few miles were easy. Then, the shoes began to pinch my feet. Despite the breeze and the time of night—a little past midnight—I was sweating too much. I thought about tossing the jacket, but slung it over my back instead, switching hands from time to time.

  I used to be a Marine, but I hadn’t exercised as much as I should have these past few years. My legs started getting tired, and the cheap dress shoes meant I’d have a blister soon. During the next mile, I berated myself for not grabbing the .38 this morning instead of the massive Smith & Wesson. The weight of the .44 meant the rig dug into my flesh more than I liked.

  Finally, I heard gravel crunch underfoot. I stopped, using my jacket to wipe sweat from my forehead. I knelt, feeling the gravel with a hand. The rocks were uniformly round and small. That meant I’d reached the outer limits of Station 5, the gravel apron.

  I should have seen lights from here. There were several large block buildings in the center of hundreds of acres of solar collectors. There were massive underground batteries to store the solar energy before operators sent it away along the power lines.

  The eerie feeling I’d had at the beginning returned with renewed strength. I had seen something rippling, all right. If the station was dark—

  My head jerked upward.

  I heard a weird, loud whine coming from the sky.

  My mouth was dry, and—

  I froze as a column of dull red light stabbed down from the stars. It was a big pillar of illumination, like something from a science fiction movie. The event lasted two, maybe three seconds. The giant beam illuminated the block buildings as it put a huge round circle on the parking area before the main building.

  One second, the parking area was empty. The next, three tank-like vehicles appeared within the diameter of the beam. It seemed like a stage-magician’s trick, the kind where he shows the crowd his hands and then—presto—he’s holding roses for his assistant.

  The tanks were…different. They had treads, but had a boxlike main body and a bubble turret on top. Even weirder, each tank had a narrow cannon. It was more like a .50 caliber barrel but much longer than it should have been.

  Pain spread outward from my chest, growing into a throb until I sucked down a gasping breath.

  As suddenly as it had appeared, the beam vanished. Thankfully, the awful whine quit a second later.

  It took several heartbeats before my mind started up again. It felt sluggish, though, as if from a hangover. Was I in shock?

  I squeezed the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to breath regularly.

  Once I had reestablished my breathing pattern, I craned my neck, searching the night sky for a sign of a blimp or a heavy transport plane. Either of those would be a reasonable explanation for the origin point of the beam. Obviously, the beam had not originated in space.

  Yeah, I’d seen the sky ripple earlier. But that didn’t mean a beam could teleport three tanks onto the Western Sunlight grounds of Station 5.

  I wiped beads of perspiration from my upper lip. I had to get a handle on myself. Teleportation beams… No, no, the tanks must have already been there. The beam had simply highlighted them.

  I laughed with relief, finally realizing what must be going on.

  I must have stumbled onto a war game, maybe one that had gone awry. Sure. There was an Army proving ground west of here. Even farther beyond that was the old Nevada Proving Ground where the government used to explode their aboveground nuclear weapons. The last of those had gone off in 1962—a lifetime ago. A platoon of Army tanks must have gotten lost here.

  “Searchlight,” I said, snapping my fingers. The dull red beam had been a searchlight for the war-game officials. They’d used it to pinpoint the lost vehicles.

  I smiled, feeling better and far superior to the former me from six miles ago at my jeep. The tanks had gotten lost because
the Army had been testing new equipment. I’d seen the effects of that equipment as a ripple in the night sky. Maybe I’d never seen tanks like those before, but that didn’t mean anything.

  What would be the best way to play this?

  The smartest thing was to go over there and explain why I was out here. Maybe I could help the tankers, give them directions back to the Army proving ground.

  With that decided, I started down the gravel apron and then stopped abruptly.

  One of the tanks started up with a soft purr.

  I frowned at that. I’d been in a single war game while in the Marines. I’d heard a tank then, and it hadn’t sounded anything like that. The tank back then had roared like a prehistoric monster.

  The tank down there sounded like a regular car. What did that—?

  “Come on, Logan,” I told myself. “Quit freaking out over little things. Go see what’s happening.”

  I blew out my breath and started down the slight depression again. It was time to find out what had happened and check in with the two newbies.

  -2-

  I descended along the gravel apron, soon reaching pavement, a flatter area with the first of the solar collectors. It was like a giant black tabletop tilted at an angle so it could catch the first rays at dawn.

  There were thousands of similar collectors, and they presently hid the tanks from view. If I arched up onto my toes, I could see the tops of the dark block buildings. I only did that once, as that caused the shoes to pinch my feet harder than ever.

  I debated pulling off my shoes, but that seemed wrong. Besides, I’d get sand in my socks. Then I’d have to toss the socks. They were the most expensive items of my wardrobe other than the Smith & Wesson.

  It was a decent gun despite its age, a revolver. I’d practiced with it more times than I’d hit the gym. I was okay with the gun but no pistol marksman.

  I snorted softly.

  The .44 wouldn’t do a thing against a tank, so I don’t know what I was thinking. Just a case of nerves, I guess.

  I was bigger than average. I’d played football in high school as a tight end. I’d had good hands and had been hard to tackle, as I’d been bigger than most of the linemen. Those had been the days.

  My imagination must have gotten the better of me as I continued to pass collectors. I suddenly found myself holding my S&W. I couldn’t even remember drawing it.

  I almost shoved the gun back into its holster.

  Then, I wondered why the tanks had maneuvered near the buildings in the first place. If they were Army vehicles, wouldn’t their commander have had the sense to stay away from the fragile collectors?

  I couldn’t knock a collector over, but a tank could crush one. It could leave a swath of destruction. I doubted the Army wanted a costly bill from Western Sunlight.

  I realized I’d already been hearing their treads smashing collectors.

  That seemed so dead wrong that I halted my progress. I crouched, with my butt resting on the top of my heels. Slowly, I put the .44 back into its rig so I could clutch an upright collector-strut with both hands.

  I listened to the ongoing destruction. The tanks weren’t coming toward me, but leaving, heading east. The Army proving grounds were due west. I’d come up from the south, from the direction of Vegas.

  The sky-whine started up again. A second later, the dull red beam reappeared.

  I shot to my feet and shaded my eyes out of habit. I squinted as I peered up into the sky, searching for a blimp or transport plane. Failing to spot any, I followed the column of light as far as I could with my eyes.

  The hairs rose on the back of my neck. The red light seemed to reach into space. It made me dizzy, with vomit burning the back of my throat. I was starting to believe I’d stumbled onto something truly weird and definitely dangerous.

  Abruptly, the dull red ray died away. I noticed the silence and realized the whine had been louder than last time.

  The silence did not last. I heard faint voices that made my gut clench. The voices were creepy, buzzing noises like enormous insects might make.

  I broke out in a cold sweat. I’d seen far too many science fiction and horror films, and I’d read too much for my imagination. The implications of all this—

  Wait. The buzzing sounds were easy to explain. There must be soldiers down there wearing combat suits. I’d read about futuristic fighting gear before. The chief obstacle was a lack of small but powerful batteries. As batteries improved, the military would be able to make some truly impressive individual fighting gear. Maybe the military had chosen this location so they could easily recharge their suit batteries.

  My shoulders slumped with relief as I realized the buzz must be coming from experimental equipment.

  Yeah, okay, Logan, old pal, my suspicious half said. Now explain to me what the giant red beam just did.

  I frowned, having a hard time coming up with an explanation that made sense. Maybe the light had been some kind of targeting thing. The soldiers had…made a night drop. They must be airborne soldiers practicing a night insertion. I simply hadn’t seen them drifting down in the darkness.

  I nodded, breathing easier.

  As I crouched there, the sounds from the tanks dwindled, allowing me to hear wood beginning to splinter. I had no doubt what that signified. The soldiers were breaking into the block buildings. That seemed to confirm my idea of their need for the stored energy.

  It would seem they were stealing the energy, and I was in charge of security…

  What had happened to the two newbies? I’d forgotten all about them in the excitement.

  I had to investigate, and I had to make sure my men were okay. If nothing else, I had my cell phone. I could take pictures of the Army experimenters destroying Western Sunlight equipment. That would save my employers a lot of money later.

  I climbed to my feet as my determination grew. Then I remembered that my cell phone was dead. I brushed that aside. My eyes and memory would have to do when I gave my testimony in a court of law.

  Taking a deep breath, I increased my pace. Had the Army paid off the two newbies with bribes? But if the Army had done that, why wouldn’t they have just asked Western Sunlight for permission to use the facilities? The Army always had money to spare, and Western Sunlight would have grabbed at the money-trough opportunity.

  Events weren’t adding up, and that made me apprehensive. With great care, I headed toward the sounds of men kicking in doors.

  -3-

  I eased around the corner of a block building. As swiftly as I could in my foot-pinching shoes, I hurried along the side of the building. Finally, I peered around the next corner.

  Flashlight beams played on the ground farther away. Three tall men were walking toward an unsullied entranceway to an untouched building. The men wore dress suits, although theirs looked more expensive than mine. Each of them wore a fancy hat like a Hollywood gangster.

  The sight shocked me, and I froze, but not before the toe of my left shoe struck the wall, making a scuffing noise.

  The three men stopped. The buzzing commenced between them, although I couldn’t see their mouths. A second later, the flashlight beams swept toward my building.

  I jerked back so the back of my head rested against the cool concrete of the building. The buzzing sounds grew more insistent. A second later, I heard the sound of their shoes quickly striking the pavement as they ran toward me.

  I exploded off the wall, rushing toward the nearest solar collector. It seemed terribly important that I stay hidden.

  I reached the collector, grabbed the nearest strut and swung myself around. At the same time, I threw myself onto the pavement. I hit with an “oof,” knocking the air out of my lungs. I dug out the Smith & Wesson a second time, clutching it with both hands as I rested my arms on my elbows.

  The three men came around the corner at a run. They played their flashlight beams on the ground. Maybe there wasn’t enough sand on the pavement for me to have left tracks.

  One ligh
t went along the base of the building. At a buzzing order from one of them, another sprinted along the side in that direction. The man had something in his other hand. It was hard to get a good look at it, but it was definitely a weapon of some kind.

  The three no longer seemed like Army personnel to me, which shattered my previous guesses. I reanalyzed the situation. Something bothered me about these three, something I couldn’t quite pinpoint.

  The suited runner reached the other corner. He jumped around it, holding the weapon in one hand and the flashlight in the other.

  The other two waited at the first corner.

  I squinted, trying to see their faces better. Illumination from a flashlight helped, and it finally struck me what seemed wrong about them. Their faces were more like wooden masks than living flesh and blood. It made me think of zombies or beings who wore human disguises.

  The one who had been sprinting opened his mouth. The buzzing seemed to come from somewhere deeper inside him. It was a fast noise, like a machine or a giant insect might make.

  The sight and sound made my flesh clammy. I had to concentrate to keep myself from groaning in dread. What were those things? I didn’t believe they were human.

  The waiting duo played their beams on the ground and the nearest collectors. I remained in my prone position, trembling, but ready to fire if any of their lights washed over me.

  Somehow, none of them did.

  Unfortunately, my elbows were getting sore, and the .44 had begun to shake in my grip.

  Finally, the three retreated around the two corners, one in one direction and the other two in the other. None of them buzzed the others before going. They just did so in unison.

  I lowered the S&W and felt myself collapse against the pavement. I lay gasping for air. The situation had become surreal.

  I swallowed in a dry throat. It was one thing watching little green men from Mars on the big screen while trying to make out with your date. It was another thing to find yourself all alone in the Nevada desert after witnessing red beams, boxlike tanks and buzz-talking freaks.