by Lundy, W. J.
“What about reinforcements?” Masterson asked, forcing Jacob to look back across the table at the scarred man.
Rogers scooped another spoonful of the stew before continuing for him. “A group of others responded, gold shirts, yellow sleeves. Later, some heavies showed up. They were different, bigger. Blue uniforms with red chest plates, heavier rifles. Then more vehicles with red turrets—probably their version of a quick reaction force. We were planning to let them pass,”—Rogers shook his head—“but some unit on the far side of the valley engaged them—”
Masterson frowned and cut him off with a loud sigh. “Echo Company,” he said. “Explains the gunfire we heard and why they missed the rendezvous. We traveled separate. We went south of the road, Echo north. I figure that would have put them in the spot you’re talking about.”
Rogers finished the stew and pushed the bowl away from him, wiping his face with his sleeve. “They put up a fight, but it didn’t do no good. Those things opened up with some big guns, crazy shit like we’ve never seen before. Last glimpse I got, they were chasing them toward Meaford.”
“Doesn’t surprise me; The Colonel was always itching for a fight,” Clem added.
“Who?” Jacob asked.
Masterson used a chunk of bread to catch the last of his stew. “Our battalion commander; solid officer and good guy. He’s in charge of all the training companies. I know he’s been looking for a fight since they relieved him off the line and put him in charge of training.”
“How many did he have with him?” Rogers asked.
“Not many. Forty… maybe fifty trainees, another dozen instructors. Hell, we’re all that’s left. Only thing that spared us from the bombing is that we were far enough from the main base when they dropped that shit. Colonel Grady rode out with the training company. I had most of the support guys and half the instructors. We ran into a small group of the base security forces, and they told us about you all making it for the outpost, so we joined up with them and moved out.”
Rogers shook his head slowly, understanding. “Any other survivors?”
“’Fraid not, the base is a total loss. I plan to move back down the road toward friendly lines tomorrow. See if we can find a safe place. I’m going to need some of your scouts,” Masterson said.
“There’s no scouts. Counting Jesse with his neck wound, there are only four of us that made it out.”
Masterson rubbed at the stubble on his chin and looked at the three tired men across from him. “Then, I guess you’re it. Be ready to move at first light.”
Chapter Sixty-One
It was impossible for him to sleep with the gunfire and explosions rumbling like a distant thunderstorm. Roaring concussions rattled the roof and windows of the small block house. The enemy—the things—were getting closer. His mind screamed for him to grab his family and run, but he knew he couldn’t; they would never survive alone.
Jacob lay awake; he tossed and turned then flipped onto his back hard before pulling the heavy blanket from his chest. He rolled off of the makeshift sleeping mat and pushed up to a seated position, leaning against the wall. His mind raced with thoughts of despair and dread. If this really was an alien invasion, how would they ever last the winter?
Katy and Laura remained soundly asleep beside him, nestled against the wall under heavy blankets. A low glow from the woodstove in the corner emitted the only light. Men snored away; a soldier by the front entrance stood watch, and Jacob watched the man fill a tin cup from a blue coffee pot.
“They’re fighting again,” Laura whispered.
Jacob turned to look down at her, putting his hand on her shoulder as he nodded his reply.
“How long has it been going on?” she asked.
Another distant impact shook the rafters. “Couple of hours, maybe… Don’t worry, it’s not close.” Jacob put his head back and looked at the ceiling. “The cloud cover and valley just make it seem like it.”
“You’re going back out, aren’t you?”
He forced a smile and nodded as his hand squeezed her shoulder. She moved closer, letting her head rest in his lap. Jacob could see the swelling in her eyes, knowing she had cried when the stories of the base’s destruction sped through their meager camp. He dropped his arms on her shoulders and felt her trembling.
“I’ll go if they’ll take me. This isn’t like before; we have to stay ahead of them to survive.”
Laura moved, reaching up to grasp his hands. “Why do you have to go?”
He sighed, squeezing her hands. “This isn’t something we can hide from.”
She turned her head to look up at him but didn’t speak, and she closed her eyes while pulling his hands to her cheeks.
“We’re going to have a look around. I’ll be back then we can leave and find some place safe,” Jacob whispered.
“I know you’ll be fine. I just want us to be together.”
Before the others woke, Jacob followed the men out of the block house and into the cold morning air. He felt the near freezing temperatures bite at his neck and pulled up the collar of his shirt. He caught a whiff of cigarette smoke mixed with the brisk morning air. Turning his head, he saw Buck with a wool blanket over his shoulders, a smoke in one hand, and a thermos cup in the other while Masterson and Rogers crowded around him.
“Have the bird prepped and ready when we get back,” Masterson told him in a matter-of-fact tone.
Buck nodded his head slowly and smiled, showing his stained teeth. “She’ll be ready.” Buck paused and looked left and right before stepping closer and lowering his voice. “I can only take ten. You’ll have some decisions to make.”
Masterson grimaced then returned the pilot’s smile. “Multiple trips then; I’m sure you’re up for it.”
Buck shrugged. “Assuming we have fuel to top off the tanks for a second trip, and what about security?”
Masterson looked back and caught Jacob listening in on the conversation; he brought up a gloved hand and slapped Buck’s cloaked shoulder. “Let the gunfighters worry about that; just be ready to go.”
Masterson stepped into the clearing near the helicopter and waved his arms, bringing the twenty-man patrol into a tight cluster. The plan for them was to move back down the trail to the cabin and barn, then meet the dirt access road. If all remained clear, they would move over it and into nearby hills. Once on high ground, they could set up a hide position so that they could observe the main road and intersections.
Most of the soldiers in Masterson’s party were veterans and knew the part they would play. Experienced, they had performed these drills countless times on foreign battle fields. But today, everyone was wary. Even though the noise of the distant battles had dropped off with the rising of the sun, the men still didn’t know what to expect. This wasn’t Afghanistan or Iraq where everyone played a role; nobody knew what to expect from this new brand of invaders, or even what purpose the Deltas would have in everything.
“Don’t get too heavy on your triggers; we have half of a missing company out there and who knows what else. Stay quiet and keep this place a secret as long as we can.” With that, Masterson ended his conversation and pointed to Rogers.
Rogers took a deep breath and dipped his chin. “A’right, let’s get this done. James, you got point. Jacob, take slack with me.”
Jacob found his spot in the file and patroled cautiously with his rifle in the crook of his elbow, his gloved right hand resting on the stock. They packed light for the patrol; no heavy rucksacks or body armor to weigh them down. Most of them didn’t have armor anyway, and who knew if it was effective against the invaders’ weapons? Nobody had been able to examine a dead alien—or even one of their victims for that matter.
James waved a hand to the ground, slowing them as they approached the main cabin. The place appeared empty; a low fog hung close to the structures and blanketed the lonely buildings. In the yard of the cabin, Jacob spotted the trucks they used to get there. Along with their trucks were several open-backed Humv
ees and a massive cargo truck, and a white Toyota pickup was next to the barn. James let Duke move on his own, the dog zigzagging between the vehicles and stopping to sniff the air.
The point man knelt near a tree, waiting for the dog to return before he waved the others forward. Jacob moved close and squatted, finding a position where he could watch the road. He heard Masterson order five of the men to stay and secure the cabin site before ordering Rogers to push ahead. As Jacob got back to his feet, he could feel the mood change. The hair on his neck buzzed with electricity; moving onto the road felt dangerous and foreign to him.
Looking back at Rogers’ stone face and clenched jaw, he knew his leader was feeling it too. They were in a dangerous place now. James moved them across the road and onto high ground on the far side. It was a low ridge that gave them viewpoints over the gravel access road. They turned and moved south, cutting through a saddle and onto a high, tree-covered slope. Working their way to the top, they could begin to see the shapes of roofs and far off buildings from the high vantage point.
Pillars of black smoke snaked up from a bunching of homes. Farther away, where the gravel road met the paved highway, was a cluster of destroyed and smoldering vehicles—civilian cars and military trucks twisted and smashed. The distance spared him some of the carnage, but Jacob knew what he would find if he wandered closer.
James dropped into the cover of a large tree and waited for his teammates to join him. He huddled the dog close to his side, pointed down at the destroyed vehicles, and said, “What’s left of last night’s battle.”
Jacob used the scope on the M14 to examine the devastation. Nothing moved; no signs of life. Panning from left to right, he could see more signs of black smoke on the horizon. The rest of Masterson’s men moved up behind him and formed a wide, half-circular perimeter on the face of the hill. Riflemen moved in with nervous anticipation, finding bits of cover and concealment as they searched the far off sights.
Clem, the rough and tattered civilian, weaved in close to James with Masterson right behind him. He retrieved a pair of olive-green binoculars from his hip pocket and scanned the distant horizon. He pointed his hand and waved it past the distant streams of black smoke. “They’re hitting every bit of civilization between here and Lake Huron.”
Rogers ignored the older man. “We should go down and have a look, check for survivors.”
Clem pivoted and pointed to the east. The road twisted and disappeared into a series of deep cuts and rolling hills scattered with heavy trees. “No, they’re close; we need to stay out of sight.”
Rogers shook his head. “How the hell do you know that?”
“Cause it’s war. The sides change but tactics are always relative.” Clem paused to look down at the twisted, smoldering vehicles. “Looks like local survivors trying to make a caravan west, away from the landings. Got ambushed just past the intersection and tried to push through. Military escort pulled up ahead and went down with ’em.
“Yeah… if it was me, I’d have shot up everything in the kill box down there then dropped back into the cover of those hills. Yeah, I reckon they’re waiting in there.”
Rogers looked at Masterson with a smirk. “Who the hell is this guy?”
Clem put up a flat hand, waving off the comment. “I’m a nobody, kid, don’t you worry about me,” he said, passing the binoculars to Masterson.
The scarred soldier took the glasses and opened his mouth to speak when Clem raised his hand, silencing him. “Listen,” he said.
Rogers rolled his eyes. “What now, old timer?”
Clem pointed to the sky and looked at the tree tops. Slowly, the sound of helicopter blades beating came into range just before a pair of Apaches tore over their heads, so close to the treetops, they knocked snow off the high branches. Following the terrain, they dropped in elevation then banked hard into a gun run over the nestled crop of hills Clem had pointed out earlier. Without slowing, the attack helicopters let loose a salvo of hydra rockets. Bright streams of white disappeared into the hills. The sounds of thundering explosions echoed back as it mixed with the belching of the helicopters’ 30mm guns.
Blue streaks reached up into the sky after the Apaches, harmlessly falling far off course. The helicopters banked hard and made a second high-speed pass, launching Hellfire missiles before climbing and disappearing. The enemy fire ceased, the cluster of hills now engulfed in fire and smoke. Secondary explosions snapped and popped from the cluster of hills as the sounds of the Apaches faded. Jacob looked down and could see the men on the hilltop perch up with excitement on their faces.
“Well, I’ll be… our birds can kill them,” Clem said.
“Who are they?” Jacob asked.
“Pelee. They must be out of Pelee Island. They’re the only ones with attack birds left,” Masterson said.
Jacob grabbed his pack and started to stand. “Then that’s where we’ll go. The airspace must be clear; the Blackhawk could get through… right?”
Rogers shook his head. “No. Whatever these things are, they’ll be going after them now.”
Jacob turned to face him. “How? You saw the helicopters… those shots didn’t even come close. They don’t have air defense.”
“You may be right, but I don’t like assumptions. We’ll use the diversion of the Apache strike to get our own people back to the bunker.”
Clem grabbed a handful of dirty snow and squeezed it in his fist. “He’s right. They’ll focus on those attack birds. Start moving whatever they have after them to pinpoint the source. We can move away from it. Take advantage of the vacuum.”
Masterson climbed to his feet, lifting his rifle with him. “Okay, I like it.” He pointed a finger at a nearby soldier and called him close. “Send two of your people back to the compound. Tell that pilot to ferry the first batch out.”
The young soldier turned to run away when Masterson grabbed his shoulder. “Make sure that old bastard knows to turn around and come straight back, and tell him I don’t care if he returns on fumes.”
“Yes, Master Sergeant,” the man said over his shoulder as he rushed off.
Jacob watched impatiently as a pair of men accepted their instructions and moved back down the hill. He looked up at Masterson and grabbed his sleeve. “What the hell are we still doing up here?”
Masterson smiled. “Our day ain’t done. I want to take a peek in them hills.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
The point man and his dog stealthily rose up and approached the steep slope angling down to the intersection. “I’ll lead us out,” James whispered.
“Stay close to him,” Rogers said, leaning in to Jacob so the others couldn’t hear. “I don’t like the looks of this.”
Jacob filed down the hill, keeping James to his front. As he moved he watched the rest of the patrol step up and file in behind them, slowly joining the column. James led them down the face of the hill and pushed up against the hard-packed shoulder of the road. He knelt into cover, causing the rest of the men to follow his lead. Jacob crouched in the heavy grass and weeds, feeling the cold snow press against his clothing.
They lay silent, becoming one with the terrain while James and Duke strained their ears to listen for any sign of danger at the side of the road. It was beyond quiet, nothing moved; the leaves even seemed to freeze on their limbs. Down the road to the left, he could see the doomed civilian caravan; to the right, an open road leading back to the base and the neighboring villages. The air reeked with the stench of burnt rubber and plastics mixed with death. Rogers crept up behind Jacob and again whispered, “I don’t like it.”
“Do you see something?” Jacob asked.
“No, but it shouldn’t be this quiet. If we were alone, you’d hear the animals… birds or something; even the damn bugs are hiding.”
After a long fifteen minutes, James rushed across the road, cutting a path through the fresh snow. Rogers pointed it out as they followed it. “Everything about this is wrong,” he whispered. The rest of the men quiet
ly rose to their feet and fell in behind them. Jacob picked up his pace, letting Rogers tuck in behind him as he crossed the open roadway. Soon he was wading back into the thick foliage on the other side. At the base of the hill, the vegetation was thick as it wrapped around him, making it nearly impossible to see. He moved ahead, following James by sound alone.
This is bad, I can’t see shit, Jacob thought. He used his left hand to push dense brush aside as he navigated the thick underbrush. It was impossible to stay quiet; the branches and thorns grabbed at his clothing, scratching any exposed skin. It was darker and colder at the bottom of the hill, and the smoke seemed to build up and blanket the ground. Jacob could taste it now. The thick, acrid, metallic taste burned at the roof of his mouth, causing his nose to run.
James led them through the slight depression then up into another rising hill. The vegetation became sparser and allowed Jacob to open his stride. The hilltop cleared and opened into a mound of yellow grass.
Near the summit, James dropped to a crouch and slowly backed himself up before he lowered his body to the ground. He rolled to his back and waved Jacob forward. Jacob did as instructed, dropping to his belly and leopard crawling ahead while holding up the muzzle of his rifle as he crept to the front. He moved up to just beside James’ thighs, Duke leaning down to greet him with a lick to his face. The dog scampered slowly in a circle and dropped into the grass with a sigh.
Jacob waited for Rogers to join them before he rotated to his hip and looked up at James. The point man rolled onto his back, gazing up at the clear blue sky partially obscured by the blooms of black acrid smoke. Now closer, Jacob could hear the occasional pops and snaps of burning wood and parts of the alien vehicles.
“You get eyes on them?” Rogers asked.
James looked into their faces and spoke in a hushed tone. “On the other side… down the center of a wide road.”
