by Allan Burd
“Sacre Bleu,” he whispered to himself in French, as he gave the hand sign for a gathering.
The others approached from different angles, all forced to step over various parts of the dead body along the way. Their expressions varied from disgust, to dead serious, to fear. The fact that the enviro-suits spared them from the stench of death was of little consolation.
Rodgers bent down to examine the corpse. “It’s … was a grizzly.”
“Man, what the fuck can do that to a grizzly?” Prestone asked nervously. His right foot began tapping with increasing frequency as a chill ran up his spine causing him to quiver head to toe.
“Poor sonuva bitch was blown away. We ain’t got nothin’ that could do this,” Dupres said, with concern as he looked directly at Rodgers.
“Fuckin’ Predator, man. We’re up against a fuckin’ Predator,” mumbled Prestone to himself. His breathing became heavier causing a small section of his face mask to fog. He scanned the tree line around him holding his weapon shoulder high at all times.
“Team Two to Team One. Code Delta.” Rodgers tried his best to get a message through the static.
His radio crackled. “—aines here.” bzzzzt skttt “—status?” replied Gaines over the radio.
“Dead grizzly. Never seen anything quite like this. Guts scattered everywhere. Whatever killed this bear, Major, it wasn’t human,” Rodgers reported. “And it wasn’t friendly either,” he added.
A few feet from Rodgers, Prestone approached Carter and gave him his assessment. “A fuckin’ Predator. That’s what this thing is man, a fuckin’ Predator,” he said, jittery. He grew more spooked by the second. His nerves frayed. His voice quickened. “Ya know, I saw one, up close—a grizzly—when I went campin’ as a kid. Walked straight into it. It stood up on its hind legs, let out a roar. I was so close I could smell its breath. Never seen anything more terrifying my whole damned life. Froze up, paralyzed with fear. Thought it was all over man. Then it just walked away—left me standing right there.”
“Yeah. What’s your point?” asked Carter, nervously surveying the terrain.
“Grizzlies don’t attack unless they’re threatened,” Prestone pointed out. “Whatever did this, man, must’ve been one nasty sonuva bitch. A fuckin’ Predator, man.”
“We can handle it pal, just like the X-men. We’re all in this together and we’ll come out fine. Just gotta stay cool … like Gambit,” Carter said.
“In this together. Alright. Alright.” Prestone began to calm down. He placed his fist on top of Carter’s fist. “Just like X-men.”
“Damn,” bzzz skt “—status change to Omega Two alert. I repeat—” skt skt “—ange to Omega Two—” sktt “All copy.” Rodgers heard the disappointment in Gaines’ voice as he issued the command.
A blur of charcoal gray flashed between two trees about fifty yards away.
“Did you see that?” Prestone asked Carter.
“See what?” replied Carter.
“Something moved between those trees over there.” Prestone’s paranoia level just jumped three notches.
Carter stayed calm while signaling the others to be alert.
“Team Two confirm Omega Two alert. Team Three, please copy. Repeat, Team Three status change Omega Two alert. Please copy,” said Rodgers into the radio.
Skkkt … “—Three confirm Om—” skttt skkkt “—lert. Team Three con—” skkkt “—Two alert.” Rodgers waited while listening to the static he knew was Team Four’s reply. He hoped and prayed his message got through.
Prestone looked through his magni-scope at the trees ahead. He saw the gray blur again as it darted between branches. Losing it momentarily, he scanned the tree line until he saw it again. Zooming in on the gray, he focused his scope. Staring directly back at him from a distant tree were two large menacing jet-black eyes surrounded by a smooth, gray, nearly featureless face. Strands of stringy black hair covered the sides of its head and where its nose should have been only a small crease could be seen. Its mouth was small and its chin was rounded and smaller than a human’s.
“Jesus H. Christ,” Prestone whispered to himself, his fear returning instantly. Its mouth moved. Prestone instinctively pressed his index finger down on the trigger. “I’m not going down, motherfucker,” he shouted as he pumped fifty rounds of 30mm ammunition out of the barrel of his gun.
Carter immediately followed, even without seeing the target, peppering the trees Prestone was firing at with more gunfire. Vangrell and Dupres immediately turned, scanning the perimeter with their guns cocked, watching for a target to present itself.
At the deafening sound of the initial burst, Rodgers took cover crouching behind a boulder. “Team Two, code Omega One. I repeat. Team Two, code Omega One.” Rodgers knew those were precisely the words that Gaines didn’t want to hear, but he had no choice. He cursed at himself, knowing full well he should have been more aware of his charges as he watched two of them firing wildly into the woods. The inhuman high-pitched response, echoing above the overpowering noise of the weapons, caused them to pause. It was like nothing they had ever heard before but the closest they could come to describing it was that it sounded like thousands of fingernails scraping against a blackboard at the same time.
Prestone and Carter looked at one another and saw fear in their eyes. Prestone’s because he was genuinely frightened to his core but Carter’s because he knew deep down they had just made a mistake. They attacked someone or something without any provocation at all. If Gaines was here, he’d discipline them for sure, but now that was the least of their problems.
What kind of creature made that noise? Did they kill it? Or, worse, was it still alive?
A bolt of blue light streaked across the timberland and ripped Carter in half. His upper body collapsed forward, his legs blew back, his innards splattering about. The sudden brightness of the blast caused Prestone to close his eyes. When they reopened, the first thing he saw was Carter’s blood and pieces of his flesh dangling on the outside of his clear face mask.
The team responded as one. Vangrell, Prestone, Rodgers, and Dupres fired indiscriminately toward the origin of the blue blast. They ducked for cover as they unleashed their own deadly barrage towards their newfound enemy, except for Prestone. Frozen with fear, he pressed his finger firmly on the trigger and stood his ground. Another bolt of blue shot down from the trees and tore through his body, violently ending his life.
Dupres kept his cool as he pinpointed the exact location of the source of this deadly blue beam. He instantly focused his fire on that position and then continually in a line along what he believed was the entity’s most likely escape route. He hoped his bullets found their mark as a second high pitched shriek pierced his ears.
“HOLD FIRE! HOLD FIRE!” ordered Rodgers. He hand-signed to Vangrell to go right and for Dupres to arc left. He would approach head-on. They would flank the alien and hopefully bring this battle to a halt. Running from tree to tree, they crossed to where they thought the alien lay.
“Nothing,” said Dupres. “Damn!”
“No, you got a piece of him. Look at this.” Rodgers pointed to a trail of red liquid on the ground.
“Look at that,” Vangrell said. “Sucker’s got red blood just like us.”
Rodgers knew it had gone too far. This contest would only end with death—theirs or the alien’s. He regretted it, but now the only choice he had was survival. “All right, guys. Let’s track ’em and rack ‘em and get the fuck home.” He cautiously followed the trickles of blood which led under a thick brush of trees. He used his gun to lift the branch which hid the trail. “This way.”
He trod slowly, his every sense on constant alert to the environment around him. Training, experience, and gut instinct told him the prey was close.
Suddenly, he motioned halt. He pointed to several blood stains which led behind a grouping of trees. The perfect place for a surprise last-ditch attack, he thought. He signaled Dupres to circle around from the left. He and Vangrell would g
o around on the right. Guns ready, Rodgers peered around the trees. He saw nothing but forest and dirty snow.
Vangrell didn’t even hear a sound as the alien jumped down from a limb behind him and thrust a sharp metal blade into his back.
Rodgers turned in time to see Vangrell’s lifeless body slump face-first to the ground and a bloody gray alien standing over him. He stared directly into its hollow eyes and if he connected with it in any way, he knew it was dying and angry. It didn’t matter. His reaction was swift. He lifted his weapon. But he never got off a single round of ammunition as the alien fired a blue beam of pure force which punched through his chest.
Dupres burst from the trees, screaming and firing wildly at the alien. The first volley hit it in the arm, causing it to drop its weapon. The second, third, and fourth ripped across its muscular upper torso, dropping it to the ground. He approached it cautiously. As he stood above it, watching the last bit of life flicker from its eyes, he didn’t see an enemy. The events of the last few minutes flashed through his mind. Then a bolt of blue energy seared across his view. He instinctively dove to the side, but the fringe of the blast skimmed his helmet and knocked him to the ground. It was a glancing blow, granting him a few remaining seconds before what he was certain would be his death. His vision hazy, he searched for the cause, spotting a group of alien beings descending upon him. The alien he just killed was not alone.
27
PEARSE CANAL, ALASKA
Exactly twenty minutes after Colonel Chase, Dr. Blaze, and Logan landed at the rendezvous point, they still had no knowledge of the whereabouts of their support team. Jeff and Logan sat at the table, bored by the inactivity.
Colonel Chase paced wildly, clearly losing patience. Upon his arrival, the post commander informed him that they spotted Canadian military scouting the area. Ten minutes later he was informed of chopper activity over the region. It was not the news he wanted to hear. It was imperative they got to the ship first, but now he knew the Canadians had beaten them there, and only because the Alpha Contact Team was late. Now, twenty minutes later, he still had no answers. It was a situation his limited patience refused to tolerate.
“Radio dispatch again,” Chase ordered, pounding his fist on the table. “Tell them no more bureaucratic bullshit. I need answers and I need them now.”
“Yes sir,” said the young soldier. He turned and hurried towards the command center.
“He looks pissed,” Logan commented to Jeff.
“Did you need your kinesics skills to figure that out?” Jeff replied sarcastically.
“Very funny.”
“Hey, whether you’ve realized it yet or not, this mission’s extremely important. Think about the technological secrets that ship holds. Unlocking them could mean significant advances for our country,” said Dr. Blaze.
“Yeah, what marvelous weapons we could build,” added Logan.
“If we don’t get to it first, think of the marvelous weapons our enemies could build,” countered Dr. Blaze.
“It’s the Canadians, for crying out loud, not the Russians or some Middle East terrorists.”
“Who’s to say what anyone’s going to do with it? This ship could irrevocably tip the balance of global power. Whoever has it—whoever controls it—could become the leader of the free world overnight. Even if it’s only the Canadians, how do we know they won’t sell it? How do we know it won’t end up in the wrong hands? Personally, I’m not willing to take that chance. That ship has to be ours.”
“And you believe if we have it, we will be more secure,” responded Logan. “Some dumb bureaucrat will probably decide to sell it eventually, and before you know it, everyone will have it anyway. Look at the Gulf War. We sold them planes and missiles, then we had to send good men over there to stop them from using ‘em.”
“Here he comes,” said Blaze. Their attention turned to Colonel Chase who was stomping in their direction. “What happened?”
Chase had a scowl on his face. “Big time snafu. Some jackass in Anchorage with more clout than brains decided this mission’s so top secret he didn’t want anyone informed until we got here. So nobody told air traffic control or the pilot or the men of our priority status. When a storm front came in, they saw no reason not to delay the flight until it passed. By the time someone figured out what was going on, it was too late. They won’t be here for hours, if at all. To make matters worse, the CO told me he’s got reports of Canadian military activity in the area. A couple of choppers were spotted only ten minutes ago—heading right towards the ship.”
“Jesus!” Dr. Jeff Blaze removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes as if he’d just got a sudden headache.
“What does that mean? We turn around and go home?” asked Logan.
“You wish,” Chase snapped. “It’s just the three of us. We’re going in alone.”
28
Dupres, to his surprise, was still alive—though he almost wished he weren’t. His vision blurred with a dizzy haze as he struggled to maintain consciousness. He watched helplessly from the ground as the group of aliens approached. He noted five. One gray, like the one he killed, but this one had stringy hair, a bulkier build, and smaller, though still unrevealing, dark eyes. Another was jet black, bald, a slightly visible nose, and a thicker jaw. Two others were dark blue, one surprisingly short with blank white eyes. The fifth one had a reddish hue to his gray skin tone that seemed to melt away as he approached.
The black alien reached down, removing Dupres’ weapon from his grasp. Another bent over his body, removed his helmet, and placed its webbed slippery fingers upon his face. He cringed, though he could barely feel its smooth touch as long digits examined his wound. As the alien tilted his head to one side, Dupres couldn’t help but notice his own blood, which stained the snow-covered ground aside him, and the other aliens who clustered, staring at him with unreadable expressions.
The taller blue alien reached down and removed the radio from Dupres’ hip pouch. It stood upright and stepped away from him. Removing a small tool from a camouflaged pouch attached to its chest, the alien took the radio apart and examined its components. It turned to the others and said something in an incomprehensible high pitch that brought a reaction to their faces. The useless radio was dropped by his body and the aliens left.
Dupres was thankful to be alive. Except now he was cold and helpless, and with his radio in pieces he had no way to warn the others that there was a small army of aliens with powerful weaponry heading their way. With that distressing thought filling his head, he blacked out.
29
“Major Gaines—” skkkt “—eam Four—” skkt “—respond.”
Lieutenant Boudreaux, leader of Team Four, barely heard Gaines’ voice call out through the bursts of static from his radio. He had heard a staccato of gunfire but his orders were to remain in position unless new orders said otherwise. “Team Four here, Major,” he replied, wondering if his response got through. They were well into the interference zone and any message that got through the static would be a miracle.
skttt “—ega One, Team—” skkkttt “—gone,” skkt “—tatus—” skt “—ree—”. Major Gaines’ voice became inaudible over the radio.
“What’s up, Lieutenant?” asked Steele, the point man for Team Four.
“From bad to worse. Best I can tell is we’re in code Omega One status.” Boudreaux pressed the button on the radio. “Please repeat, Major.”
Static was his only reply.
“At least we’re still getting static. That’s means they’re still there,” he said turning to Steele. “Team Four to Team Three. Can you copy?”
“—here,” a voice replied.
Boudreaux relayed Major Gaines’ last order as well as possible. “Code Omega One, I repeat, Code Omega One.”
“—ger. Tea—” skttttt “—sponse.” skkktt “—peat, Team Two no re—,” Team Three leader Rankem reported back.
Steele and Boudreaux just stared at each other with looks of disbelief. Did they
just hear correctly that Team Two was gone? The situation was much worse than anything they expected. Something unknown and deadly was out there and they were only a few hundred meters away from finding out what it was.
“Doesn’t mean they’re dead,” said Steele, not really believing his own words. “Maybe their radio’s damaged.”
“Yeah, maybe,” said Lt. Boudreaux. Then with fire in his eyes and determination in his voice, he gave the command. “Signal the others. We’re heading in.”
30
Lt. Rankem, leader of Team Three, ordered his men to split up. He knew Major Gaines would have a fit but he didn’t care. He was more than willing to face the consequences later, but for now he knew Team Two was in trouble and he was going to help them any way he could.
“Jackson, Avery, Vox, you go on ahead. Vox, you’re in charge,” said Rankem, handing Vox his radio. “We’re in Omega One status, so secure the ship and destroy anything that gets in your way. Don’t hesitate. Whatever’s between us and that ship is deadly. Hesitation could cost you your life. Lowell, you’re with me. We’re going to find Team Two.” Rankem nodded affirmatively at his men and they separated according to plan.
Within seconds Rankem and Lowell were out of sight, slanting down the snowy mountainside, taking cover on their way to rescue Team Two. They stayed close together as they charged towards Team Two’s last known position. Rankem took the lead running to the next point of cover. Lowell followed behind. At each stop they peered out, scoping the landscape for any activity.
