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

by Lundy, W. J.

  “Come now, Jacob. You know Duke’s a Delta sniffing dog. We got to protect his most powerful weapon, right? We don’t want his sniffer getting out of calibration, do we?”

  “I guess, James, but you know what? You’re crazy as hell.”

  “Shit, look around you brother; everyone here is crazy.”

  A sudden rise in the volume of noise from the distant trees let the men know the Deltas were moving again, pushing toward the plant for another assault. Sounds of rattling brush and the roar of the mass once again became frenzied. Captain Merritt grabbed a nearby soldier and sent him to the NBC position, ordering them to release the fog. Merritt walked the line, crouching low, ensuring that every other man on the line now held a piss bottle, ready to deploy it on his order.

  “Did you tell him what the dioxin does to them? That it doesn’t kill them right off?” Jacob asked.

  James shrugged. “Yeah, I told ’em,” he said, pushing forward with his rifle.

  Merritt moved behind James and dropped to his knees, looking through the fence. He turned, facing down the platoon’s defensive line. Holding a hand to his mouth, he yelled, “Tighten up, everyone. This will be their last push. This is all they got left in them. But we’re going to hit them back this time; we got something for them. We hold one more assault and we can go home.”

  A soldier ran back and dropped next to Merritt, out of breath. “Sergeant Emerson says the foggers are lit. They’re sending a hell of a mist downrange. The entire back approach is now in a toxic cloud.”

  Merritt nodded and faced the front as the frenzied mob ramped up. Trees cracked as they pushed ahead, still hidden in the cover of the brush and hanging clouds of smoke. Jacob could tell by the thunderous roars that the creatures’ mass had increased in size during the lull. The previous gunfire and explosions drew more of them to the fight. Merritt looked back at the mortar men and waved his hand down. “Let’s burn them out!” he shouted.

  As they arranged earlier, the mortar team loaded and dropped the first white phosphorus round. A chemical round that explodes and reacts harshly to the air, it can burn through skin deep to the bone, causing blinding fires and white smoke. The mortar launched from the tube and exploded with a loud crack deep in the woods, emitting blooms of sparks and white smoke. “That’s right where I want it; keep it coming,” Merritt ordered.

  The mortar team rapid fired its entire supply of Willy Pete then switched to high explosive, the trees quickly filling with white burning smoke and thundering explosions. The sounds of the monsters’ rage increased with every strike. Soon the tops of the trees were shaking while hot, dirty, yellow flames backlit the smoke. And again, The Darkness burst from the trees in a full charge, supported by their own shooters. Rounds whizzed by overhead. Jacob raised himself up, searching for a target, but saw nothing except the white acrid smoke. A volley of screaming Deltas ran from the trees, their clothing tattered and in flames. The dug-in platoon held their fire, waiting.

  James rose to his knees, bleeding off a full magazine, screaming back at the charring mob, “Come and get it! You ain’t got shit on me. Come on, you bastards.”

  Jacob lifted his rifle, rose up next to James, and fired into the advancing mob, hearing the rest of the platoon’s rifles join in. The machine guns went cyclic, raking the gap, chopping down ranks of the charging monsters. Bodies stacked up as more of the creatures forced their way through. James, sitting high as bullets whizzed by, screamed challenges at them. He pulled the pin on his improvised grenade and tossed it deep into the breach, hearing it explode with a loud crack and seeing the devastating results as the bodies of the tightly packed creatures were tossed to the ground by the explosion. Merritt saw James’s action and ordered the release of the remaining bottles. Men up and down the line rose to rain their own improvised grenades. They exploded in rapid succession, spilling carnage and dioxin over the battlefield.

  Jacob dropped and pressed his face to the dirt as debris and body parts showered his back. When the explosions stopped, Jacob pushed up, looking over his pack to see them still coming. As they charged forward, Jacob aimed center mass, knocking down a man directly to his front. The grenades impeded their advance, but fresh waves still emerged from the burning woods. These new ones crossed through the downed fence. They staggered over the dead and fell, disorganized as they passed through, the dioxin finally entering their systems.

  They grew mad with symptoms, gouging at their eyes as they charged forward, now lashing out in pure rage at anything that moved, even each other. An entire platoon online supported by heavy weapons with a clear field of fire made easy work of the chaotic mob. Sensing the lack of incoming fire, Jacob rose to a knee and took aimed shots, downing the staggering creatures one by one. With this current wave nearly destroyed, another approached the gate at a full sprint, again breaking up as they were slowed by the pool of bodies and waded through the contaminated breach, falling with sickness of their own.

  This time, half of the mass broke off, repelled by the chemical, and retreated back into the raging fire now burning in the trees. Others tried to move around the perimeter, walking the fence line, only to be cut off and overwhelmed by the chemical fog. The platoon’s men climbed up from their fighting positions, slowly advancing on line with each other and putting down the blind and suffering Deltas. The men continued gaining energy and excitement over finally seeing the Deltas defeated on the battlefield. They walked along the grounds, placing kill shots on any of the creatures still moving.

  Merritt watched as his men claimed victory over the field; he called the men back, ordering them to police their equipment and hold the line.

  James looked over and exchanged a relieved look with Jacob. The bearded man coaxed Duke from his hole, allowing the dog to run ahead toward the dead, sniffing at the Delta bodies all around them. James stood upright, grabbed his rucksack, and tossed it to the undisturbed ground behind him. The NBC men reported in with Merritt; Jacob watched as the men gave their brief. He overhead them say that the chemicals were completely transferred into the holding tanks and waiting to remove the lines. Merritt nodded and waved them off. He turned, faced the soldiers, and ordered the platoon to their feet, leaving only a few men back for security while the rest returned to the Chinook.

  James knelt down by Duke, watching the soldiers pass by. He poured water from a bottle, allowing the dog to drink. Jacob moved off to their side to rest. He sat down on his rucksack and used a bandana to wipe the grime from his face. Merritt passed by and stopped, looking at the carnage in front of them. He turned to James. “I don’t think we could have done it without the poison,” he said.

  “You know that shit is against the Geneva Convention,” James said with a serious face, making it impossible to tell if he was joking. “I’m going to have to file a report when we get back.”

  Merritt shook his head. “Good thing the Deltas never signed it.”

  “Good point, sir. So how’s your platoon?”

  “Five dead and many more wounded.” Merritt paused, looking to the fence. “Considering all things, we fought well today. This was a win for us.” The hardened officer turned and walked away.

  Hearing orders for the security team to return to the helicopter, Jacob leaned over and lifted James’ heavy pack to his shoulder. They headed for the Chinook, where a man in a flight suit removed a hose from a large tank attached to a stubby wing. Seeing the bullet holes in the side of the large helicopter, Jacob was going to question the man about the bird’s flight worthiness. When he heard the engines whine and the blades starting to turn, he changed his mind and, not wanting to be left behind, rushed ahead to the ramp.

  This time, he led the way, moving deep into the belly of the helicopter from the rear ramp, solemnly stepping by the black body bags of the platoon’s dead. Jacob dropped into the orange jump seat and sat back as the engines gained power. He turned to look out of the back ramp, watching the helicopter defy gravity and leave the ground before swiftly gaining altitude, ban
king, and turning to the west. As the helicopter circled, he caught a glimpse of a Delta mass moving along open streets. There were still thousands of them down there in the city; they would have been killed without the dioxin.

  Jacob tried to clear his thoughts and take the time to rest. He tried to watch the blue sky from the small port windows. He saw that the other men around him were sleeping, heads heavy and leaning back. Jacob tried to relax and look away, but his eyes were always drawn to the black bags at his feet. He couldn’t sleep. His mind racing, his thoughts filled with ideas about the men they lost. Wondering how it was that he survived when people like Stephens, Marks, and Murphy didn’t. This war wasn’t about skill; it was all about luck—being in the right place at the right time. He lay back against the netting and turned his head to the side, watching the blue sky pass by.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Jacob walked off the helicopter with the others close by. They were on a bustling air strip. All around them, helicopters were landing to be refueled before taking to the air again. From where he was, he could see and hear signs of the fighting—a black plume of smoke billowing up and drifting away, echoes of explosions, and the cacophony of distant gunfire. At the end of the tarmac sat a yellow bi-plane with other military helicopters parked close to it. Jacob stopped and stared at it, finding it curious that it was surrounded by so many modern military aircraft. A small orange fork truck raced by, turning sharply and expertly parking under the Chinook’s stubbed wing.

  Members of the Chinook flight crew gathered around, helping cross transfer the MX4-filled extended fuel tank over to the smaller service vehicle.

  “Careful with that, it’s not cheap,” James yelled out to one of them sarcastically. The driver of the fork truck flipped James the finger in reply, causing James to burst into laughter.

  Jacob, feeling bold, took a step toward one of the flight crew. “Hey, what’s with the bi-plane? We haven’t gotten to using that in combat, have we?”

  A crew chief began to speak but was cut off by the truck operator who looked at Jacob after finally getting the tank strapped to a rack on the small vehicle. “It’s a crop duster. Going to use it to wet down the Deltas with this stuff,” the man said, patting the extended tank. He turned away and jumped into the small truck, following the work party to the other side of the helicopter.

  The group stood, watching them for a moment before heading to a tall hangar bay at the end of the tarmac. At the entrance, they were met by a man in camouflage pants and a black T-shirt. He wore a 1911 in a black nylon shoulder holster. When he saw Rogers, he rushed forward and grabbed the man in a stiff bear hug before greeting James the same way. He stepped back, looking the men up and down. “I heard about the L-Tee and Stephens,” he said. “Glad to see you two made it out.”

  Rogers nodded and changed the subject, not wanting to think about it again. He grabbed at Jacob and pushed him forward. “Hey, meet Jacob, this is our cherry. Jacob, this is Alex. He works up at command; you heard his voice on the radio.”

  Alex shot Jacob a sly grin. “Oh yeah, I heard a lot about you. Met your other guy earlier. The broken one, Jesse. He says—”

  Jacob interrupted. “You mean Jesse is here?”

  “Yeah, up at the hospital. He’s going to be fine, by the way. He refused to take the Medevac bird back unless they brought the other guy with him. He must be a tough negotiator, because it worked. I can take you there, if you’d like.”

  “Wait, did they bring in the old man?” James asked.

  Alex nodded. “Yeah, old man and a young woman. But don’t get too excited; they're both headed back out once they stitch the old man up.”

  James stopped and turned. “Hey guys, I have some things I need to do. Maybe run to the hospital for a checkup.” He shot a wink at Jacob, showing a toothy grin, before pulling on his rucksack and stepping off with Duke close by his side.

  “What got into him?” Alex asked.

  Rogers grimaced, trying not to laugh. “Don’t even ask.”

  Jacob shook his head. “Alex, I’d rather you took me to see my family. Can you do that?” Jacob asked.

  “Yeah, sure, no problem. I can drop you off on the way to the unit building. They have your wife and kid staying over on the north side. We got them moved in to nicer digs. We like to keep all of the unit families together. It’s on the way.”

  They followed Alex down the flight line, turning a corner to where a dark green open-top Jeep waited. As they strolled, a large group of soldiers in full kit passed by them going the opposite direction in a hurry. Jacob turned and saw they were moving to a flight of Blackhawks with the props already rotating.

  Rogers threw a thumb over his shoulder and said, “They seem to be going somewhere fast.”

  Alex glanced back but continued on. “Yeah. Headed back out to the chemical plant in Middleville. They need to recover the rest of the MX4. Looking to be an easy mission; the scout birds still report the area being vacant of Deltas.”

  “We heard the base is in trouble. How bad is it?” Rogers asked, moving up alongside Alex, Jacob lagging back.

  “The base is good for the time. The Deltas broke through our defensive lines at the border and have been massing against the forward deployed troops. That’s where the real fighting's at. We’ve had massive assaults against the walls and stopped every one of them. As you can hear, they’re still fighting them.” Alex paused for effect, pointing a hand at the distant walls and the sound of the artillery explosions. “Command is in a rush to get the MX4 deployed. It’s going to be a game changer.”

  “It works,” Rogers said.

  Reaching the Jeep, Alex stepped into the driver’s seat with Jacob in the back and Rogers riding shotgun. He started the vehicle and took off. “Yeah, it works, but the problem is that might be all we got. Once they drain the tanks back at the chemical plant, there might not be any left.”

  Jacob grabbed the seats with his hands and pulled himself forward, saying, “You mean here? They have to have it someplace.”

  Alex shook his head. “No, that ain’t exactly over-the-counter stuff. They think there might be some in Buffalo, but nobody has confirmed it yet. The Germans used all of theirs. The last resource on the books is China, but we haven’t heard a peep from them in over eight weeks.”

  “Can we make more?” Jacob asked.

  “I don’t know; do you know any chemist still alive?”

  Jacob looked down. “Damn, there won’t be enough.”

  “Don’t worry about it; we’ll figure out a way to make it work.”

  The Jeep slowed and pulled into a tiny neighborhood of old, red-brick homes. Each one looked exactly alike. Alex wound down several streets before pulling into an empty driveway. “Well, Sergeant Anderson, this is you,” he said.

  “Sergeant?” Jacob said. “No, I’m a private.”

  Alex smiled. “Promotions come fast in the apocalypse, but don’t get too excited; it doesn’t come with a pay raise. Enjoy your family time—you've definitely earned it. I got you an eighteen-hour pass. I’ll send a vehicle for you in the morning.”

  Jacob reached into the front to shake Rogers’s hand. He jumped to the sidewalk and lifted his bag with his right hand. “Take your rifle. Everybody on base is required to have a weapon at all times,” Alex said.

  Jacob nodded, lifting his M14 from the back seat. The engine restarted and the Jeep drove away, leaving him alone on the sidewalk in front of a strange house. Jacob walked to the front door and set his bag on the sidewalk. He leaned his rifle against it and stepped to the front door. Raising his arm, he took notice of himself. His arms were covered in dirt, the front of his blouse coated with dark stains and blood.

  Running his hands over his face, he knew he must look like a mess; maybe he should have stopped to clean himself up first. He detected the steps behind the door. The knob turned. The door opened and he saw Laura standing feet away from him. She looked at him hard then her eyes filled with tears as she lunged at him, embraci
ng him in a tight hug. Jacob held her back burying his face in her soft hair.

  “I’m filthy,” he whispered to her.

  “I don’t care,” she whispered back.

  She pulled away, taking his face in her hands and locking eyes with him. “I can’t believe you’re back.” She stopped and hugged him again, crying. He held her until she stopped. Then held her even longer. She backed away and took his hand, leading him into the house. Jacob looked around the small space. It was nicer than he thought it would be. A quaint two-bedroom townhouse. A small living room and dining room off the kitchen with two bedrooms on the second floor.

  Jacob saw an M4 rifle on the wall with a stack of thirty-round magazines on top of a bookshelf. Jacob pointed to the rifle. He smiled, remembering a time when Laura refused to handle a firearm.

  “All of us have one. A man from your unit took us to the range and taught us to shoot,” she said. “The unit has been great. They upgraded our housing and the other wives helped us settle in. Katy is in school, and I have been helping at the hospital. All of us have a job here.”

  Hearing tiny footsteps on the stairs, Jacob turned to see Katy running at him. He smiled and bent down. She jumped into his arms and held onto his neck as he lifted her high. Jacob smothered her with kisses and hugging her tight.

  “Daddy, you stink,” she gasped, pushing away.

  Jacob grinned, looking at Laura. “Dear, it is pretty foul,” Laura said, laughing, tears once again forming in her eyes.

  Jacob, taking the hint, retreated to the shower. After shaving and changing into fresh clothes Laura laid out for him, he felt his body crashing as the exhaustion settled in. He moved back down the stairs and found a fine meal ready for him in the dining room. He stepped to a chair and stopped short, smiling. Suddenly, he felt as famished as he was tired.

  “I wish there was more,” she said.