The Invasion Trilogy Box Set [#1-#3]

by Lundy, W. J.

  The lights were lowered, and a large map of the earth was projected on the wall. The officer removed a laser pointer from his shirt pocket and shot a line running parallel through Chicago.

  “Fourteen days ago, the NASA space weather bureau reported a meteor shower that encompassed the 42nd parallel. What made this event atypical is that it ran a straight, precise line down the 42nd as if deployed from a high Earth orbit. NASA, through radar and satellite analysis, confirmed that neither we nor any allies—or enemy, for that matter—had any birds on that trajectory.

  “Six hours after the event, the anomalies began. Data collection now confirms the earliest reports were simultaneously recorded in California, Connecticut, Illinois, Iowa, Massachusetts, Michigan, New York, Pennsylvania, and overseas in Europe and Asia.” As the officer spoke, his laser pointer drew a straight line across the world map marking spots as he read them off.

  Jacob looked at Murphy. “Is this for real?” he whispered.

  “Just listen,” Murphy answered, not looking away from the screen.

  More sidebars broke out in the room. “Gentleman, hold questions and conversations to the end!” the captain shouted over their voices.

  The young officer turned away from the map and looked back at his notes. “Thank you, sir,” he said as he flipped pages and looked back at his audience.

  “Twelve hours after the event, mass disappearances were reported. Eighteen hours after the event, civil disturbances and riots broke out; at forty-eight hours, we began losing communications with remote areas; by seventy-two hours, the condition had spread one hundred miles north and south of the 42nd.”

  “Lieutenant, let’s skip ahead,” the captain said.

  Richards leafed through his stack of papers and placed them back in his folder. “Yes, sir; next slide please.” The men in the room gasped as a fully dissected naked male body appeared on the screen. The young officer moved his pointer over the display. “As you can easily see, the anatomy of the aggressor is not human. Next.”

  A new slide showed the same man, but the chest cavity had been cleared away and the top of its head removed. “As you see on this slide, organs do exist at early stages. Although very rudimentary—and with the exception of the brain, eyes, and some sort of lungs—they are not recognizable. They have no identifiable circulatory or nervous system; a sort of single-cell caustic gel has replaced them. The gel consumes the human organs and systems then uses the energy produced to transform the carrier. At the stage in this photo, the carrier still holds a high percentage of measurable human DNA.

  “Gentlemen, what you are seeing is a previously unknown, and most probably alien, parasite. It infests its victims via the eyes, nose, and mouth through direct contact with seeder ponds. We believe that explains the black eyes and mouth of the aggressors. We believe these warm-water ponds were contaminated by the original event, and recreational swimmers were its first victims. Next.

  “Again, as you can see on this slide, this male has progressed in the transformation. This male has developed muscle tissue and the organs are now enlarged. You may also notice the texturing of the skin. At this stage, the carrier has less than 20% measurable human DNA. This group is more highly capable and cunning. They have been observed planning and using strategy in attacks. Next.

  The room gasped, and people began shouting, causing the captain to again get to his feet and silence the crowd. The image on the screen showed a CGI-produced image of a humanoid. It had a pronged reptile-like head, scaled skin, a bold chest, and elongated arms.

  “This is an artistic rendering of what we predict the final progression will look like—”

  “Bullshit,” a man in a state trooper uniform near the back yelled. “You trying to tell us we’re being invaded by the Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

  “Captain, I don’t care what they are; just send me back so I can kill them!” another shouted.

  Captain Nelson slammed a hand on a table at the front of the room. “That’s enough; turn on the damn lights!” Nelson stood up angrily. “Listen for your name and assignment, and then get your ass on deck to be outfitted and briefed by your squad leaders. We assault at dusk.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Nervous men stood in long lines and crowded along the back deck of the freighter as squads were divided up, arms were issued, and ammunition handed out. Two tall Marines stood near crates of equipment, pulling men from the line to be fitted with protective armor. Jacob was snatched and, after a quick look-over, his police vest was refitted with a chest rig holding nine thirty-round magazines for his rifle and two fragmentation grenades. The Marine grabbed Jacob by the shoulder and spun him clockwise, pulling on straps and tabs, and then applying tape to anything dangling.

  The Marine looked Jacob in the eyes. “How’s it feel?”

  “Heavy,” Jacob said.

  “Okay, you’re good,” the Marine said before shoving Jacob back into the line.

  Jacob learned the invasion force, even though critically short of men, had plenty of ordnance, mostly flown in from Reserve and National Guard armories in northern Michigan and Wisconsin. Various sized watercraft were being positioned at the bottom of a long stairwell as cardboard boxes full of uniforms and boots were dumped on the deck. The empty containers were tossed over the side to make room for more.

  The men were split into squads and waited in long lines; some at ladders to board the small boats while others were organized and led away to the stern to board helicopters. Jacob looked out over the water at the gathered freighters and ferries. Ships of all shapes and sizes stretched to the horizon while small leisure boats speckled the water, bobbing amongst the larger freighters and transport ships.

  Standing at the center of the deck now, Jacob was near the middle of a stack of eleven men who were members of his recently formed squad. He looked around in the chaos; the only familiar part of his assignment was Murphy taking the position of squad leader at the front. Helicopters orbited the flotilla, dropping in to pick up teams, then rejoining the holding pattern above. Jacob stared up at a circling twin rotor helicopter, curious about its destination.

  “You don’t want to be on them,” a soldier in line ahead of Jacob said, noticing his stare. The man was wearing sergeant’s stripes and the name Cass was written on the front of his helmet.

  Jacob nodded acknowledging the man. “Why’s that?”

  “Air assault. They are dropping inland off the beach, right on top of the bastards up near Michigan Avenue; a long way from where we’re going. They’ll be elbow deep in the shit before we even hit the beach. Higher ups are hoping to draw the things off of Grant Park and the lakefront, so we can safely get ashore,” the sergeant said. As he spoke, the man’s eyes followed a helicopter making an approach to the rear of the freighter where a tight pack of soldiers were waiting.

  “That’s insane!” Jacob muttered. “They’ll be slaughtered!”

  “Them’s the breaks,” the sergeant said grimly, shaking his head before looking away.

  “What about us?” Jacob asked.

  “Amphibious landing! We’re on the boat teams… going right through the breakwater then slamming into the wall. Hauling ass and digging in near the highway where it turns into Lake Shore Drive—traditional blocking action against an atypical force. It’s good though; we’ll have wide fields of fire and good cover over that stretch of roadway… but all that depends on the air assault boys pulling them off the waterfront.”

  “This is good?” Jacob asked.

  Jacob was nudged from behind as the line moved ahead and snaked around a container. His squad of eleven moved into an open staging area just shy of the stairs leading to the waterline. Murphy was there going over men’s equipment and dividing the group into two halves. Murphy then moved against a container and pointed at a sheet of plywood with a rough map sketched on it.

  The map, which had four horizontal lines running across it, was oriented so that the lake was at the bottom; a straight line running a
long the bottom of the board represented the lakeshore. Above the shoreline was another line designated as the trail. A parallel line marked as 41 Lake Shore Drive was situated over the trail. A shaded area labeled park was sketched in between Lake Shore Drive and a final line near the top of the board. This line was denoted as Michigan Avenue and was marked with an X, along with the words Air Assault. At the far-left side of the board, at the end of the shoreline, was a box marked Castle.

  “Listen up,” Murphy said, pointing at the board. “We will be hitting the shoreline here, just to the right of the museum complex. When you hit the sea wall, move in to the trail and wait for instructions. When everyone is on line, we will push forward and dig in on Lake Shore Drive that we’ll find to our front.

  “The air assault force will be hundreds of meters inland; the Castle will be far down the shoreline to our left. Our objective is to take the beach, drawing the black-eyes to us. We need to hold them as long as possible before pulling back south to the Castle. We have to create a pocket to allow for extraction of the survivors.” Murphy turned away to push the soldiers ahead as more in the line tried to take the spot by the board.

  Jacob was sent to the right and grouped as A-team. The soldier, Sergeant Cass, was placed in charge of Jacob’s team. He moved them out of the line and formed them into a small group.

  Murphy handed out a roll of what looked like duct tape to Jacob’s team leader and said, “Get this on everyone’s back.”

  “What’s it for?” Jacob asked as the soldier spun Jacob around and twisted strips of tape into his gear.

  “Reflective tape. So, the guys in the sky don’t kill us.”

  “Enough chitchat; finish up with the tape and get on line by the ladder,” Murphy said, waving the men back into two lines. “We have two small boats picking us up. A-team, I’ll be traveling with you.”

  A sailor pulled back a gate leading through the rail and onto a rusted stair platform. Jacob looked out over the water; the stairs ran down to the surface where another small platform was attached just above the waves of the lake. Two small cabin cruisers were tied on, swaying and rising with the swells of the freighter. Men dressed in dark navy-blue camouflage and orange life vests were waiting at the bottom.

  “I hope you all don’t get seasick,” the sailor said as he ushered the men onto the stairs.

  Jacob gripped the rail, not wanting to let go as fear settled in. He looked back at the man behind him and saw the same look.

  “You okay?” Cass asked him.

  Jacob took a deep breath and thought of his family trapped on shore. He looked up at the sky and stepped through the gate onto the stairs. “I’m fine.”

  He grabbed the stair rail and took the steps one at a time, steadying himself against the swaying of the freighter. Murphy was leaning against the ship, talking to them as they descended. Slapping backs and checking gear, he waited for the entire group to reach the bottom before he fell in with them on the platform.

  Murphy stepped to the edge of the small landing deck, facing his squad. “There were close to three million people in the city before all of this. We don’t know how many made it out, how many are dead, or how many are fucking lizard people now. We messed up early; we didn’t know what we were fighting, and we went soft on them.

  “Not this time! No riot shields, no flex cuffs, no arrests, no rules of engagement. If they run at us, shoot them; if they are on the beach, shoot them. If they have solid-black eyes, shoot them. We need to attract every damn lizard person in the city to our position. It’s the only way we get our people back. The only way we get our families evacuated from the Castle. We must get the landing zones clear, so the birds can get in and back out.

  “Your team leaders have been picked for a reason; follow them. Now let’s get out there and kick some reptile ass!” Murphy shouted, signaling the sailors to begin the boarding of the small boats.

  Jacob followed Cass to the right. “Mount up,” Cass said.

  A sailor pulled the small boat in tight while another grabbed Jacob’s arm and helped him onboard. “Don’t fall in,” the sailor warned. “With all that armor, your ass will sink to the bottom like a brick.”

  Jacob nodded and nearly tumbled aboard the small Bayliner speedboat. Painted white with red pinstripes, it was no assault craft; the bow was covered with a red liner and had a glass windshield and two captain’s chairs in the front. Murphy quickly moved aboard and dropped into the seat on the left, while the rest of the team was ushered and crammed into a U-shaped bench in the back. The passengers’ knees and shoulders pressed together in the tight space.

  Sitting heavy in the water, the boat was filled and pushed off. The sailor moved away from the side, plopped into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. It gurgled to life as the smell of gas and oil mixed with the lake water. Jacob could feel the vibrations under his seat as the sailor moved the motor to reverse. The small boat rose up on a lake swell then drifted back while being pulled away by the engine. The wheel was cut, and they moved alongside the tall freighter. Families looked down at them from the top rail; some waved but most just stared with shocked and scared faces. The sailor slowly opened the throttle, allowing the bow to lift, and they broke away from the freighter on a course to open water.

  Black smoke billowed on the horizon over the otherwise clear sky. Small specks ahead quickly transformed into an armada of various boats as they approached. Police boats, Coast Guard patrol boats, cabin cruisers, and speedboats of all make and model were floating together in a packed cluster.

  Murphy spun around in his chair and looked at his watch. “Weapons on safe, locked, cocked, and ready to rock; it won’t be long now.”

  Jacob followed Cass’s lead as he locked back the bolt on his M4 and fished a magazine from his vest, slapping it home and letting the bolt slam forward.

  Murphy grinned watching Jacob. “Might make a soldier out of you yet.”

  He looked back up at Murphy as boats throughout the formation began beeping and blowing their horns. The sailor upped the throttle of the boat and fell into line with several others. The mass broke from a cluster into a deep formation of several rows.

  “Listen up. When you get to the wall, get the hell off this boat, stick with your team leader, listen to his instructions, and do what he says; we fight as a team!” Murphy yelled over the wind and roar of the engines. “Nobody gets left behind. Nobody gets taken! Make damn sure neither you nor your battle buddies are taken alive! Got it?”

  “Hooah!” the soldiers replied. Jacob nodded, feeling overwhelmed.

  With a feeling of impending doom in his gut, Jacob’s legs began to shake, and the rifle rattled in his grip. Cold water splashed over the bow, soaking his uniform top. A soldier across from Jacob held a silver cross to his lips, his eyes closed in prayer. With a grin on his face and caressing the grip of his rifle with his gloved hand, the state trooper appeared excited. The air roared as dozens of attack helicopters flew low over the water heading inland. Men in the boats pumped their fists at the gunships. Then another formation of larger helicopters full of air assault troops garnered the same response as they sped by overhead.

  The coastline materialized out of the smoky mist. A sortie of fighter aircraft flew parallel to the beach dropping bombs, and a wall of flames erupted within Grant Park. Attack helicopters, looking like swarms of bees from the distance, flew in maintaining a high altitude before stopping to hover just offshore. Volleys of rockets and explosive projectiles were let loose and churned up the ground in the direction of Michigan Avenue, softening the landing zones. The gunships peeled off and orbited as the Black Hawks, Chinooks, and Sea Knights approached the beach from the west before disappearing into the black smoke and fire over the park.

  With his thoughts occupied on watching the air assault, Jacob lost track of his own situation. The boat slammed hard in the water, snatching Jacob’s attention back to the beach. He glimpsed the passing through the breakwater and the sea wall quickly approaching. Boa
ts bunched together as they breached the breakwater entrance then spread out to race toward shore, already under fire. The pilot of Jacob’s boat cut the wheel hard to line up with a hole between the other boats; he gunned the engine and shot for a section of seawall just in front of Queen’s Landing and a large flat concrete dock.

  Rounds exploded in the water. Men were on the boardwalk and firing at them. “Shit, the air assault didn’t work!” someone yelled.

  “It’s working; we can handle the stragglers. Get ready!” Murphy yelled back.

  The boat snaked left and right, bouncing over wakes of the other crafts as rounds smacked the windscreen. Jacob saw other boats hit the seawall and soldiers pouring ashore. “We’re going in hot! Hold on!” the sailor at the controls yelled and opened the throttle to the max. Just before hitting the wall, he cut the wheel hard and slammed the throttle forward, forcing the boat into a swift turn and rapid stop. The boat’s momentum lifted it from the water and slammed it against the wall.

  Cass was knocked back but recovered quickly and tossed a looped line over a cleat. He pulled the line tight, ducking under the cover of the wall. Jacob watched as Cass turned and pointed at him. “Go! What are you waiting for?” Cass yelled.

  Jacob stood on wobbly legs; he grabbed the edge of the wall and pulled himself up while being pushed from behind at the same time as others scrambled to leave the boat. Although he stepped high, his boot caught the edge of the sea wall. Forcing everything he had into his leg, he launched himself up and out of the boat. Running ahead, he saw the Others to his front charging toward the men invading the shoreline.

  “Get to the trail!” Murphy screamed.

  Jacob raised his rifle, firing at the ones directly to his front. He felt the state trooper fall in behind him while another solder fell in to his left.

  “Push forward, dammit! Don’t stop!” Murphy yelled again.

  Taking comfort in the closeness of the rest of the squad, Jacob willed his legs forward. Soon they were all falling in line with each other on the trail, firing to their front as they moved forward.