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

by Lundy, W. J.

  “We have two teams here. I’ll need you and your men to refit as soon as possible and break off with Captain Emmitt and his recovery platoon. You will be escorting them to the chemical plant to secure the remaining MX4,” Captain Cole said.

  The same young soldier from before returned from the cluster of equipment and handed Cole a black clipboard. The officer turned to walk away. Rogers reached out and grabbed his elbow. “But, sir… I thought we would be returning to Meaford,” Rogers said. “We’re beat up here and could use some downtime.”

  Captain Emmitt, short and broad shouldered, shook his head. “Sergeant Rogers, Meaford is under direct assault. We can’t—we won’t—return empty-handed. The only reason we were able to get here so fast is we were already on standby to assault the chemical plant without intelligence.”

  “Then sir, I need to report to you that we have civilian survivors in the vicinity. They are also caring for my wounded and have wounded of their own. And I have KIA that need to be attended to. Can you ensure that this is seen to?”

  Captain Cole’s eyes went wide with a surprised expression. “Yes, of course. These civilians, they know the area well? Do they have details on the MX4’s deployment? They could be a valuable resource for us; where can I find them?”

  Rogers turned and pointed to Eve.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Captain Merritt moved fast, gathering the remaining Assassins to an assembly area south of the Chinooks. A large green locker box was opened with new weapons and ammo. Another pair of marmite containers held hot chow, fresh from Meaford. While the men ate, others moved around helping them, refitting their equipment for the next mission.

  “I’m really sorry to do this to you. You damn well deserve a break. But with recent events, we need your ground experience at the plant,” Merritt said. “I asked for the hot meal. Thought maybe I could earn back some friendship with it.”

  Jacob scooped a mouthful of mashed potatoes and gravy from a plastic tray. “Sir, what exactly is happening at Meaford?”

  Merritt advanced close to them and sat on an ammo case. “As you all know, we started getting probed last week. Yesterday, they broke through the lines. By midnight, they were at the main gates.”

  “How bad is it?” Jacob asked. “Are the people inside safe?”

  “We’ve held, but we can’t keep throwing our forces at them like this. We really need this MX4 to work.”

  James took a bite from his tray and tossed a chunk of sliced turkey to Duke who quickly lapped it up. Merritt took notice and looked at the dog curiously.

  “Strange, I don’t recall your squad having a working dog.”

  “Oh yeah, this guy's an Assassin through and through. One of the best on the team,” James said with Rogers and Jacob nodding in agreement. James reached down and patted Duke on the ribs before setting the remains of his tray on the ground for him to finish.

  “What’s his duty type? Explosives? Force security?” asked Merritt, looking at the dog’s matted fur.

  James stroked Duke’s neck and smiled. “This guy? Nah… he is a dedicated Delta detector. Best in the business, too.”

  Merritt grinned, knowing he was being bullshitted. “Well, it’s good enough for me, but you should probably get a leash on him; don’t want him getting away from you in the Chinook.”

  “Duke can’t be leashed; he’s recon like me. Needs to have his space to work.”

  “Well, suit yourself. It’s a short hop to the landing zone; keep a hold of him,” Merritt said, laughing. “Oh, and I’ll get Duke, the Delta Detecting Recon Dog, added to the passenger manifest.”

  The Chinooks’ turbines whined as soldiers gathered gear and loaded from the rear ramp. Rogers stood and grabbed his weapons and equipment, restocking the items laid out for him, stuffing them in his pack or filling empty pouches on his gear. Jacob followed the veteran troop’s lead and did the same. He still had the M14 and refused to give it up; he liked the iron sights. He now had an M9 on his hip and several more grenades on his chest.

  James was the first to move toward the aircraft. Duke hesitated, so James bent down and carried the dog in his arms. Jacob grabbed his own pack then helped James with his. He moved forward and fell in line behind James, following him aboard the helicopter. The aircraft was nearly full, being filled from the front to the back. James moved to the next available seat, dropping into an orange webbed jump seat. Jacob piled in next to him, placing his ruck between his feet and situating James’s pack. Rogers dropped in across from him. As the turbines roared, the rotor RPM increased, washing out the fairway in swirling grass and dry snow.

  Looking up the fuselage, Jacob counted twenty-four men, including his own group. The engines roared and Jacob pressed back into the seat while the Chinook quickly lifted off and spiraled up and away, avoiding ground fire as they passed over occupied areas. Jacob looked down at Duke on James’s lap. James had his gloved hands over the dog’s ears, helping to shield them from the noise. James caught Jacob’s gaze and leaned in close, yelling, “I wonder if Eve is going to miss me.”

  Jacob put his head back against the headrest, laughing. The helicopter turned to the right and gained altitude then banked hard and turned sharp, diving as the helicopter banked. Merritt moved to the jump seat beside Rogers. He had the chemical compound mapped out and Rogers pointed to the tanks holding the MX4. The helicopter dropped again, already preparing for their approach to Middleville.

  “Seemed a lot longer when we made the trip by foot,” Rogers said, looking across to Jacob.

  Wide holes, the size of fifty-cent pieces, suddenly appeared on the sides of the helicopter then traced a line along the floor of the aircraft. Jacob looked at them curiously for a second before his senses registered. He pressed back into the jump seat as he looked out of the ramp, seeing tracer fire arc up around them.

  The helicopter banked hard again, shuddering as it traded altitude for speed and spiraled down, dropping so fast Jacob thought he could feel his stomach touch the roof of his mouth. A machine gunner opened up near the nose, the weapon vibrating the fuselage as it fired.

  Duke clawed and scrambled in James’s lap at all of the commotion and the extreme maneuvers of the aircraft. James held him down tight, pulling the dog into his chest. The Chinook banked hard again and dropped fast, leveling out just above the treetops. This time when it flared, Jacob saw green grass below and the sides of the steel factory. The helicopter swooped hard then held position just feet from the ground. Rogers jumped up first and rushed the ramp with the other soldiers rushing out behind him.

  “This is our stop,” James yelled nudging Jacob with his shoulder.

  Jacob reached down and grabbed both of their packs before running to the ramp. He jumped and found the drop farther than he expected. He hit the ground hard but rolled as he impacted, avoiding injury. He dropped the bags and quickly scrambled back into his own before helping James into his. The Chinook’s pilots powered down quickly as Merritt led everyone out, shouting, “Move! We need to get away from the helo so it doesn’t remain a target.”

  They moved away from a grassy enclosure, shielded on one side by the factory. Following Rogers’s directions, Merritt led them around a corner and toward the nearest tank farm. The ground was slightly banked here, forming a bowl around the yard containing the chemical tanks. Merritt moved the men out of the bowl then forced them into a hasty perimeter with rolling grass to their front. Half a football field away was a tall chain link fence running parallel to a perimeter road. Beyond that was a sparse tree line. Sporadic gunfire came at them from all directions. Some men broke from their positions and ran for the cover of the steel-sided building; they were quickly cut down by the increasing fire. “Stay put and dig in!” Merritt yelled.

  The chemical plant’s perimeter was completely enclosed in chain link fence. Jacob looked ahead and saw that a small pedestrian gate was hanging open. The Deltas saw it too and ran for the breach. Jacob dropped his pack then lay behind it, steadying his rif
le. He fired round after round, dropping the creatures as they pressed through the narrow opening. A machine gun on Jacob’s right joined in and quickly put down the assault.

  With the first wave stopped, two men were ordered ahead to the gate with a small length of rope. They reached it, removed bodies from the opening, and then tightly secured it.

  Soldiers called out directions, seeing the Deltas moving from high ground and running at the plant from distant streets. Jacob heard Duke growl and turned to see James lying prone over his own weapon beside him. “This was probably a stupid idea,” James said, removing an entrenching tool from his pack. He hastily scratched at the dirt, digging a hole, pushing the fresh dirt in front of him. Jacob didn’t have a shovel, so he drew a long knife from his gear, used it to break up the soft dirt, and did the same.

  A group of several men broke off with Rogers and ran toward the chemical plant’s tank farm. “Where are they going?” Jacob asked.

  James looked over his shoulder at the running men then turned back. “They’re NBC guys.”

  “Like the TV channel?” Jacob shook his head, not understanding.

  “Chem warfare experts Nuke, Bio, Chem. They are going after the MX4.”

  The two soldiers at the pedestrian gate, having secured it, turned to run back to the small perimeter. Duke barked frantically. Jacob saw another wave of Deltas emerge from the trees across the street and watched as the two men were knocked down from behind. Mere seconds later, a full wave launched itself at the fences from deep in the trees—lines of attackers, most armed and firing as they ran at the fences. Jacob looked into their crazed faces as they assaulted forward, screaming and shooting.

  Incoming fire ripped by his head, smacking the dirt. He watched a puff of fabric as his pack in front of him was hit. Jacob dropped low and hugged the ground. All along their hasty line, soldiers opened fire. The machine gun opened up again, catching the charging deltas in the open. It mowed them down, sweeping left and right as more advanced. More men ran forward from the back. Jacob watched them sprint and drop to the ground near James where they set up a bipod and steadied a second machine gun.

  Jacob pressed his face to the soft dirt while the gunfire made his ears ring. He could barely make out the screams of the wounded and orders from the soldiers up and down the line. He looked over at James and saw him reloading his rifle. Duke was pressed into the hole behind James’s pack, the dog’s rear legs shaking with fear. James glanced across at Jacob and slapped him hard on the back. “One hell of a party we got invited to, isn’t it?” James said. “You know this is one of those moments, Jacob. It’s time to embrace the suck.”

  More screams and roars filled the air from the distant wood line. The main mass had arrived. Jacob could hear the trees and brush cracking as the mob formed together in the woods.

  “Get ready!” Merritt yelled over the noise. “Hold this line; nothing gets through.”

  Men dumped their packs, pouring out belts of 240 ammo which they passed down the line, stacking it in front of the machine gunners. Another soldier collected 40mm grenades and passed them to the Grenadiers. The soldiers pushed together, tightening up the line while they waited for the next assault. Jacob continued to dig and push earth to his front.

  “Get your frags out and ready; this is gonna be a long fight!” Merritt said.

  Jacob turned to his side, removed his grenades, laying them by his pack, and then placed several spare magazines near them for quick access. Jacob detected the sound of clanging metal and watched as three men deployed a small mortar tube in the bottom of the bowl. As the roars from the forest intensified, one dropped a round. Jacob looked ahead as it exploded somewhere deep in the distant trees. “That’s spot on; keep it coming,” a soldier yelled from Jacob’s left.

  All at once, the air erupted with whizzing hornets. The earth around him exploded with the impact of rounds. The Deltas screamed their frenzied war cries and charged from the forest. Some firing from the hip as they ran, others charging forward directly at the fences empty-handed. The machine guns went into action laying down heavy fire, raking the fence, cutting down the advancing mobs. Jacob got behind his rifle, ignoring the wave and looking for shooters the way he’d been trained.

  He spotted them—a small group on a rise in the earth, positioned at a forty-five degree angle to his perimeter. Invisible to most of the soldiers on the line, they were firing at them from an oblique line, nearly obscured. Jacob shifted his position sharply, lining up on them, then held his breath and squeezed the trigger, watching the shooter’s head snap back. Another slid into the spot and lifted the dead Delta’s rifle. Jacob fired again with the same result. James followed his barrel, saw his targets, and joined the fight, their combined efforts silencing the enemy snipers.

  Ahead, the fence was bending and starting to give and the soldiers focused their fire to the front. A machine gun went quiet as a gunner struggled to change a warped barrel. The fence fell forward in a screeching clash, releasing a flood of charging Deltas that poured out from the breech. Jacob reached for his grenade and tossed it onto the gap then returned to his rifle, firing madly as the enemy advanced. When his weapon ran dry, he rolled to his side to reload. He watched as James’ expression changed and looked up to see a small mob run through their perimeter. Jacob drew his M9 pistol and shot one in the back then fired straight up, hitting another as it hurdled over his position.

  Rolling to his stomach, Jacob raised his weapon. He cringed, horrified to see the fence swamped and their perimeter being overrun. The mortar men adjusted and rained rounds into the small clearing to their front. The machine gun was back online, pouring fire into the charging masses. Merritt screamed for the men on the back side of the perimeter to turn around and reinforce the front. Jacob felt the rounds coming from behind as the men at the rear turned and fired their rifles, supporting the brothers. Jacob watched the assaulting Deltas in slow motion, their bodies jerking, being torn apart from flying shrapnel and rounds coming at them from every direction as they ran down a gauntlet of steel.

  The last man stayed on his feet, running through the fire unscathed, its black eyes locked on Jacob. It ran twisting and lunging as it bound over the dead to its front. Jacob was frozen, looking at the man, seeing every detail in its clothing and pockmarked face. It closed the distance and looked down at him, beginning to leap at his position. The creature’s body jerked and contorted as it was suddenly cut down by the machinegun’s fire. Jacob watched the creature fall, still focused on its face as the black faded from its eyes.

  When he looked back up, the assault had ended. Merritt was on his feet trying to rally the men. Rogers was back with the NBC team. They were able to get the pumps online, moving the MX4 from the storage tanks through hoses to the external drop tanks under short wings on the Chinook. Rogers moved toward the perimeter line with a tall NBC sergeant by his side.

  “How long until the MX4 is onboard?” Merritt asked.

  Rogers shook his head, pointing to the front. “Doesn’t matter, bird will never get off under these conditions; enemy fire will rip it apart.”

  James dug through his pack and removed one of the remaining four bottles of the dioxin, the yellowish liquid shining through the clear plastic soda bottle. “I think it’s time to call an audible.”

  “Stow your piss bottle, soldier,” one of the NBC sergeants shouted from behind Rogers.

  James showed a wide grin as he reached into his bag for electrical tape. Strapping the bottle to a frag grenade, he said, “Oh, this is the Devil’s piss right here. What all you nerds call MX4.”

  Merritt pointed down at what James was doing. “Will that work?”

  The NBC sergeant moved close and knelt down next to James. “In theory it should work, though it won’t be very effective. But he’s right; it’s time to break it out, sir. We have chemical fogger gear on board. Might as well test and deploy it here.

  “Get them set up,” Merritt agreed.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

>   A short break in the violence allowed the soldiers to regroup and distribute ammo. Men scrambled across the line, helping one another improve their fighting positions. The dead lay spread over the field to their front, covering the ground from the platoon’s hasty defensive line all the way back to the fence and beyond. James prepared the last of the improvised grenades he now affectionately called “piss bottles”. Captain Merritt liked the idea and ordered more of the improvised grenades be made up and placed all along the line while the foggers were removed from the Chinook, assembled, and pushed to the rear of the perimeter.

  The NBC sergeant, wearing a protective mask and gloves, primed the propane foggers, positioning them so that the mist would travel with the wind, away from the dug in platoon, covering their flanks. Still unsure about the MX4 effects on humans, the NBC team didn’t want to introduce the mist into their own lungs, instead using it as a standoff weapon. The propane burners were lit and the tanks charged; they just waited on the word from Merritt to begin the release.

  Jacob lay in his hole next to James, waiting for the next assault. James continued digging, throwing more dirt to the front, creating a tiny sump for Duke to lie in. They could hear the Deltas running and crashing through the woods, their numbers increasing rapidly. Jacob looked down the line at the hardened faces; he could see that the rest of the platoon had dressed down in protective garments and gas masks. “So what gives? They didn’t bring any of that for us to wear?” Jacob asked, pointing.

  James looked at him and grinned back. “Don’t sweat it, bro. We don’t need that snivel gear. Nothing can hurt us; we’re too hard for that. Besides, you don’t plan on getting any of it on you, do ya?”

  “No, I guess not, but don’t you think it would be nice to have, just in case?”

  Jacob looked away, but turned back in time to see James tie a bandana over Duke’s snout. “What the hell? I thought you just said we don’t need to worry about it?”