Conquest ~ Indian Hill 3 ~ A Michael Talbot Adventure

by Tufo, Mark

  “Sergeant!” she yelled, more so because she was afraid that after the blast she had gone deaf, she was relieved when he answered her and she heard him just fine.

  “Ma’am!” he answered, possibly a little too loud.

  “Must be having the same thoughts I am.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Get the men. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Yes sir, I mean ma'am.”

  In an instant, they were on the move, caution in their movements, speed on their minds.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Eastern Seaboard Ground Occupation - Location Southwest of Boston

  “Sir, one of our fighters has reported a battle in the town the hu-mans call Walpole,” the underling said, more than a little exasperated at being the bearer of bad news. The underling didn’t like this savage backward little planet. Nothing good had come out of it so far, it just didn’t seem to be worth the effort when there were so many less inhabited planets scattered throughout the universe. And the multi-colored, ugly-looking puny hu-mans. They were like feral fahquar (dog like animals) on his home planet, not too bright or too big, but they could pack one hell of a bite if provoked.

  “How many of the hu-mans have been killed and captured?” the Ground Commander asked, not even pondering any other outcome.

  “Sir, the fighter couldn’t be sure.”

  “Well, if his radio was broken, why didn’t he just land and ascertain the situation himself?” the Ground Commander still not understanding the flow of the conversation.

  “Sir.” The underling gulped. “There wasn’t a safe place to land his ship.”

  Recognition finally began to ignite in the commander’s soulless eyes.

  “Ruthgar, what exactly do you mean?”

  “Sir, the entire detachment plus the reinforcements, from what the pilot could tell were completely wiped out.”

  “That’s impossible—there had to be over one hundred front line genos there!” The commander yelled.

  Ruthgar backed up. “A hundred and twenty-five, sir.”

  Pure savagery echoed in every mannerism of the commander. “Could the pilot estimate how many of the hu-mans had perished?” he asked with a menacing snarl.

  “He couldn’t see any, sir, but…” he answered before the Ground Commander could explode, “They aren’t quite as primitive as we thought, they may have taken their dead with them.”

  “Perhaps,” answered the Ground Commander, but even this notion did not calm the savage beast within. How could he possibly call the mothership and tell them of this new devastation? Simple. He smiled. He wouldn’t.”

  “Sir?”

  “Get all the troops loaded up, they’re moving out.”

  Ruthgar hoped beyond hope that he meant off the stinking little insignificant planet, but he knew better. He could smell the bloodlust scent gland from the Ground Commander from across the room. “May I ask where, sir?” Even though the answer was a foregone conclusion.

  “To Walpole, Ruthgar. Where else?” The Ground Commander smiled now that he had a plan in mind.

  “Home would be nice,” Ruthgar responded softly. Anything less than total commitment would be construed as weakness and weakness generally got you killed.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Paul’s men had made quick work of what was left of the alien detachment. Paul noted with interest that when their commander fell the rest of the survivors had become a disorganized mass, barely mustering a defense. He wasn’t sure if it was fallout from the concussion of the explosion or something even more significant. Paul strode quickly to where Mike and Dennis were hugging and exchanging greetings. Paul could only hope their reunion would be so cordial.

  “Hello, Mike,” Paul said as he approached still a good fifteen feet away. Mike turned from his embrace with Dennis. Paul couldn’t be sure but he would have sworn he saw a glimmer of malice flash across Mike’s face and in an instant it was gone. The coolness however in Mike’s voice was not.

  “Hello, Paul,” came the flat reply.

  Paul had closed the remaining gap physically but now he had to try to bridge the gap in their relationship. Nothing truly inspiring came to mind.

  “Took you long enough,” Paul said.

  “Well, I got a little lost. I took a left hand turn and ended up in France,” Mike added.

  Paul could not tell if this was a jibe or a joke, Mike’s face belied nothing.

  “Good to see you, man,” Mike said as he pulled Paul close into a bear hug. Paul reciprocated, a visible release of tension exiting his body.

  “I guess I owe you both, you really saved my skin today.” Mike beamed.

  “That makes us even, Mike,” Dennis said solemnly. “I’ll never forget the day you pulled us out of that car, even if I wasn’t awake.”

  Paul nodded in agreement. Paul in his elation to see Mike had almost forgotten that Dennis had been missing in action. “Shit, Dennis I thought you were dead,” Paul said turning toward him.

  “It was close, Paul. They got the gunney, used him like a hacky sack,” Dennis said, forgetting his earlier elation in a matter of a heartbeat. Grief threatened to overwhelm him as he placed his hand over his face.

  “Let’s go back to the Hill, Dennis. We’ll get those wounds checked over,” Paul said, placing his arm around Dennis’ shoulder.

  “Paul, I’ll be right in, I’m going to go get my squad,” Mike said.

  Paul acknowledged him with a nod of his head.

  Frank was walking over after issuing orders to his men. He welcomed Dennis back, a huge smile spread across his face to see his friend returned from the dead and safe and sound; his earlier morose replaced with joy. So fixated on the scene in front of him, Frank never saw the three Genogerians coming through the broken glass pane windows in the front of the store. Rifles firing, Frank was shot repeatedly, a small smile forever frozen on his face even as his insides oozed out of the foot and a half long gash across his back. Dennis was first to attack and bring his weapon to bear, the short staccato sound of the M-16 breaking through the eerie silence as Frank fell to his knees. Mike wheeled, rifle at the ready as the nearest of the insurgents fell in a heap. Multiple rifles now took up the call to arms, at least a hundred or so rounds had found their mark. The second shock troop to die was split down the middle like an over ripe banana, his comrade close behind in death. The damage had been done though. Paul ran to Frank’s crumpled body hoping beyond hope he would be alive. If Frank had any final words they would be forever lost, he lay still, the smile of seeing his friend still upon his face. Paul wanted to weep, Dennis fell to his knees and did; the events of the last ten hours finally taking their toll. Mike knew better than to try to console either man, both would grieve in their own way. Mike turned, his barrel still smoldering, and headed off to get his Marines before the inevitable happened and the Genogerians returned, time was of the essence.

  ***

  Tracy and the troops were even now making their way across the Main Street and coming into the mouth of the parking lot. They had taken defensive position when the firing had erupted and were now seeing what the din was about now that it was once again quiet. Mike walked over to meet them, his rifle now slung over his shoulder. Weariness set in now that they had made it back, what came next surprised him more than anything had in a long while. Tracy came up and punched him square in the jaw, staggering Mike back.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she yelled.

  The Marines around her stopped, mouths hanging open. Even those closest to Frank stopped to stare at the new development. Mike would have answered but he feared she may have shattered all the work the alien hyper-chamber had corrected, that and the fact he was still in shock from the blow.

  “Are you trying to get yourself killed!? Is that what you want? You don’t have that right anymore!” she shot at him.

  Mike still had not managed a viable defense. And if he didn’t react soon she would finish what the Genogerians start
ed.

  “The right?” Pathetic but still words, the effect was instantaneous and it did not have the desired effect he was looking for. Tracy became enraged. Her steel gray eyes almost smoldering.

  “The right!” she reiterated. “I’ll let you know when you can die. You’ve taken my heart and I’m not in any rush to get it back,” she said as she punched him mercifully on the shoulder this time, but it was by no stretch of the imagination a pulled punch. Mike knew he would suffer some bruising.

  “I love you, Mike, like I’ve loved no other. Maybe it’s because of how crazy the world has gotten and how many loved ones I have already lost. I can’t take losing someone else I care for. I won’t let it happen again. Never again.” She finally broke down, tears streaming from her eyes, ineffectual blows now hitting his arms. Mike grabbed her and pulled her close, partly to keep her from hitting him but mostly to just reassure her that he was in fact alive and well. There was something about the woman he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He wasn’t sure if he was quite in love with her yet, but he was rapidly approaching it and just because she reached there first did in no way diminish what he felt for her. If anything it only strengthened it.

  The squad streamed around them, at least attempting to give them some semblance of privacy. Besides, they wanted to see if they could get their hands on some of the alien weaponry strewn throughout the parking lot before the rest of the detachment already there took everything. Relationships were cool and all, but that didn’t compare to the shock rifles.

  Tracy’s sobs subsided somewhat, her face buried in Mike’s chest. He lifted her face so that she was looking at him.

  “You’ve never looked more beautiful,” Mike said as he kissed her and for the briefest of moments everything around them dissolved; the chaos, the carnage, the stink of death—replaced with the wonder and need of a new love. Mike’s heart ached with the thought of what he had put her through.

  “I promise I will never do anything that stupid again,” Mike said fully meaning it, but never the less as time would point out, he was lying through his teeth.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Beth nearly swooned when she looked into the living room, a small family of three had been strung upside down. Multiple deep cut wounds crisscrossed all of their bodies so their entrails were left dangling to the floor. It looked like some version of a piñata from hell, grimaces of pain and suffering were forever etched upon their now taut mouths. The youngest appeared to be no older than nine or ten, of which sex was impossible to tell. Though they were all nude, the mutilation was so severe as to make identification impossible. Beth struggled to hold on to the precious water she had just drank and for all appearances it looked like it was going to be a losing battle. Beth had turned and was heading for the door before she lost her precious cargo, when she heard a deep and menacing growl. It was coming from somewhere in the shadows off to her left from what appeared to be a hallway leading most likely into a study or spare bedroom. Beth figured this was probably at one time the family pet, but now it looked like the family was more dinner than companionship.

  “Scruffy, want to taste some fuckin’ lead?” she said as bold as possible while also trying to suppress throwing up. She was rewarded with a growl that was considerably closer, but she was no closer to finding its location in the near darkness the shadows of the house were affording her new adversary. She wanted to back away and get out of that circle of hell, but she knew if she fell, the dog would be on her before she could pull the trigger and the rifle would be useless if it got too close. The dog growled again almost as if it could read her thoughts.

  “Well, one things for sure,” she said. “You aren’t a Chihuahua.” The rumblings took on an echoing effect in the small antechamber.

  Beth kept backing up, doing her best to not run into anything, the dog’s growls becoming louder. She could hear its toenails on the tile, but how could that be she wondered to herself, that would mean the dog was no more than ten feet from her and she still hadn’t seen it. Fear started to rear itself in Beth’s psyche. Maybe it’s the demon that hung this family up. A dog was an acceptable threat right now, a spawn of Satan was not. And then her fears were instantly inflated and deflated as the dog passed through a brighter spot in the hallway. It wasn’t a demon, per se, but it was by far the largest dog she had ever seen. It’s massive head even with Beth’s chest.

  “Jesus,” she let out involuntarily.

  Spittle hung from it’s gaping maw, teeth bared in an insanely large mouth, one with which Beth was sure could take her arm off in one bite. Beth unsteadily raised her rifle, she had no intentions of becoming anyone’s dinner. The dog stared at her savagely, its red-rimmed eyes locked onto her own. One was the hunter and one was the prey, but for the life of her, Beth didn’t know which was which. Beth sighted on the monster and pulled the trigger, fully expecting the loud noise in the small confines to make her head ring like the bells of Notre Dame for at least a few hours. She heard nothing, save for the settling of the now turned-off water pipes. The dog was nowhere in her sights. It leapt and slammed into her shoulders. The rifle clattered to the floor uselessly. Beth could only hope that a ripped out throat wouldn’t hurt too much, her mind working overtime. She figured she would only be conscious for a minute or so while the dog ate her alive. She slammed on the floor with the full weight of Cerberus on her chest, white, shooting stars of pain floated through her eyesight as the air was forcefully pushed out of her body. The white stars began to turn brown as she fought valiantly to hold on to consciousness.

  She most likely would have passed out if not for the extraordinary event that happened next. The dog didn’t rip her throat out as she feared but licked her from her lips all the way to her hairline. The thick saliva trail nearly finished off what the dead family in the living room started, her stomach was roiling. The thick muzzle still hung perilously close to her face, she in no way wanted to provoke the beast but if she could somehow get herself into a more defendable position maybe she could still get out of there.

  ***

  The beast which she dubbed Sampson drank greedily from the empty coffee can she had filled with water. She wasn’t completely comfortable with the dog but he didn’t seem now to be so intent on ripping her face off, if he ever had. A perfunctory tour of the rest of the house showed the dog had nothing to do with the carnage in the living room. Far from it. The near starving dog had not taken even the slightest bit of meat from its now deceased family. From what Beth could tell, the dog more than likely had been locked in the laundry room when the killings had begun. The door was a thin paneled one that had been nearly shredded in the dog’s attempts to vacate the room and most likely assist in the defense of his family. Unfortunately, his freedom had come far too late or she figured that the killer or killers would have had some serious problems to contend with when the dog unleashed his savage fury.

  “You hungry, boy?” Beth said as she returned from the top floor, checking to see if there was anything that could help her during the rest of her trek. Sampson looked up and what at first Beth took to be another growl quickly turned into a floor rumbling belch. Beth sighed in quick relief.

  “Let’s go, boy. Let’s find somewhere a little more hospitable for the night.” With uncanny understanding, the dog walked to the opening of the living room and let out a slow, mournful throaty sound and walked out the front door into the burgeoning twilight. Beth shook her head and followed. She saw some small fires off in the distance, but her trust of the majority of humanity had taken a serious hit and she planned to avoid those small outposts of ‘civilization’ at all costs. Anyway, it seemed Sampson was of the same ilk, he walked a few steps ahead of her but in a direction parallel to the fires, always keeping them downwind, most likely so he could tell if anyone approached. Beth was thankful for the company even if she thought only fifteen minutes ago he was going to eat her. Sampson turned every few streetlamps to make sure his new charge followed, Beth wasn’t sure where he was h
eaded but it was nice to follow for a change. After a while, Sampson stopped his tail wagging. Beth approached cautiously.

  “What is it, boy?” Beth said as she approached the dog. His tail moved faster at her words, he waited for her to catch up and made a beeline for the variety store ahead. Even from this distance and in the near darkness, Beth could tell the pickings were going to be slim. Most of the empty shelves had been overturned and the windows broken out. What had been in there once was long gone. Sampson was not deterred, he strode purposefully through the shattered door, Beth approached more deliberately with her rifle at the ready. Food debris littered the floor, the crunching of old cereal echoing eerily in the emptiness. Sampson did his best to clean the mess up, she thought she may have named him incorrectly, Hoover seemed a much more apt moniker. Beth walked through the store, hoping that possibly some edible morsel had been passed over or else she would be on the ground soon fighting Sampson for floor scraps. She walked into the back storage area. This place was worse off then the rest of the store. She was about to walk back through the door and out into the main part of the place when a shimmer of red and yellow caught her attention, it was almost completely under a rack used for dairy products, a nearly full box of Slim Jims. Something which at one time she would have turned her nose up to but right now it took on a near mystic quality. Had she found filet mignon right now she couldn’t have been more pleased.

  “Sampson!” she cried. The dog slammed through the door quicker than Beth could have imagined. Eyes wild, teeth bared. Whatever trauma he had been through, he was anxious to make sure it never happened again. Beth was in awe of his reaction.