Alien Roadkill-Homecoming

by Steve Zuckerman

  After pour number fourteen, the crowd was beginning to lose patience, and there were shouts for the contestants to stand and finish the contest on their feet. JB, of course, had no problem with that request, so he immediately stood up and gave his two remaining competitors a look that dared them to do the same. Despite being shaky, they both managed to reluctantly make it to their feet, holding on to the backs of their chairs to steady themselves.

  All three… JB— the skinny guy — and pot-bellied man number two, drank down pours number fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen while remaining on their feet. As they did so, it was apparent to everyone watching that JB was the least affected. Only seconds after downing the seventeenth pour, the pot-bellied man stumbled as he attempted to fall back onto his chair. He missed the seat and plunged to the ground, where he remained, snoring.

  Now it was down to JB and the skinny man, who, despite swaying precariously, was doing a remarkable job of keeping up. By pour number nineteen, the crowd had thinned. However, a good many of those remaining were folks with money on the line at ten to one against JB. Fired up at the prospect of winning, they were shouting out a mixture of encouragement and obscenities to the skinny man, whose expression had been wholly transformed into a classic shit-eating grin. In the middle of pour number twenty he wilted, after simultaneously losing control of his legs, and his bowels.

  There was a roar of astonishment as JB calmly sauntered over to the keg and refilled his glass. A moment later all hell broke loose. A bunch of guys who had lost their wager began complaining loudly. Angry yells of, “Fake! Cheater!” mixed with other shouted obscenities.

  Colin Trench ran back over to the microphone, hoping to restore order. But before he could switch it back on, there was a loud burst of feedback. The ear-piercing sound hadn’t come from his microphone or the speakers near the stage. Instead, the source of the high-pitched squeal was a bullhorn in the hands of a tall black man wearing a bulletproof vest with the gold letters: “F.B.I.”.

  The amplified voice of the agent in charge boomed out of the bullhorn. “This is the FBI! Everyone drop your weapons and put your hands in the air, I repeat…”

  He interrupted himself as he got a good look at the size of the crowd, now revealed in the harsh glare of the portable lights. Some of them were pointing weapons back at the twenty or so agents that were nervously standing behind the one making the announcement. Apparently, when law enforcement had planned the raid, they had seriously underestimated the turnout. It wasn’t even close to being a standoff… The Feds found themselves completely outnumbered and outgunned. Both sides froze in that moment of realization, but before any of them could take action, another utterly unexpected event occurred.

  An intense pulse of blue and white light sliced through the crowd, exploding the beer keg next to where JB was standing. All along its path, the blast of super-hot energy cauterized everything it touched. Bodies and parts of bodies fell away to the ground as it tore through the throng. The sound of the exploding keg and the smell of burning flesh set off a chain reaction. Reflexively, the panicked and confused crowd began firing their weapons at law enforcement, who immediately returned fire while everyone took cover wherever they could. Some quick thinking individuals shut down the portable lights, and the grounds were plunged into darkness as the sounds of screaming and gunfire filled the air.

  In the midst of the chaos, there was another blue-white blast of heat. It would have hit JB dead on if it hadn’t struck the unlucky FBI agent who had stepped into the line of fire by sheer chance. The pulse hit the man square in the eyes, burning through the sunglasses and his skull like a hot screwdriver through a Styrofoam cup. The man’s body had done little to diminish the power of the energy pulse, but his metal framed sunglasses deflected the beam slightly, so it missed JB, but it was still close, too close. JB had was grazed by the edge of the energy pulse, which took a large chunk of flesh from his right ear. Five more inches to the left and the blast would have hit him right between the eyes. He ignored his injury as it had already healed, and focused his efforts on avoiding a direct hit from the yet unseen weapon. JB thought the blasts were coming from the rear of the grounds, which meant the shooter was somewhere off in the trees.

  Somehow, during the pandemonium, people began to realize that the hellfire wreaking the worst of the carnage wasn’t coming from either law enforcement or militia members. In the next instant, the hysteria escalated, creating a single response that swept through the assemblage. All at once, everyone, including law enforcement, fled in a blind panic, knocking over tables, chairs and several grills in their rush to escape. Black smoke from the overturned barbecues began to fill the air, which only added to the confusion. In a matter of just a few minutes, the Trench Estate had become transformed into a battleground. The darkness and smoke had intensified the deadly situation even more, and the crowd fled in a frenzied stampede. A few cooler heads prevailed among law enforcement, some of whom were calling for backup, but they too were swept away in the crush of people running for their lives.

  JB kept moving, dodging several more energy blasts that were fired at him as he tried to get clear from the crowd. Even so, folks were scrambling in every direction while the alien hunter kept on firing, heedless of anyone who got in-between it and its target. Cut down by blasts that were meant for him; many bodies fell in JB’s wake as he ran, dodging the energy beams; moving as unpredictably as he could manage.

  He caught a break when some guy spotted the source of the attack in the trees and began firing his AK in that direction. JB knew automatic weapon fire was not enough to kill the alien, but it served to take its attention off him while it dispatched its attacker. That took mere seconds, but it was long enough for him to take cover behind a government SUV.

  He turned and looked to see who had suddenly tugged at his arm. It was Terry. He had to yell to be heard over the screams and the gunfire. “Come on, Cuz, this way!”

  JB followed as Terry practically dragged him away as the SUV exploded in a ball of flame. The two kept running, keeping their heads down, avoiding both gunfire and interception as Terry led JB over to an old, stone outbuilding.

  From the looks of it, the building hadn’t been used either for storage or planting preparation in decades. The outbuilding was completely overgrown with thick layers of tangled wooden vines that over the years had grown even thicker with new growth. The wooden double doors were barely visible and appeared to choked shut by the unchecked vegetation. The rotted doors and rusted hinges gave the impression passage was impossible. However, Terry, ignoring the dilapidated condition of the entrance, reached out to the leftmost door and twisted the handle. At his touch, the door opened in a smooth motion that belied the appearance of the hardware.

  “In, quick!” he yelled unnecessarily, and the two of them got inside as swiftly as they could manage.

  As soon as they were both inside, Terry quickly pushed the doors shut behind them. They hadn’t been followed, nor was there was any indication that anyone had seen them enter the building. The building’s interior was pitch black, but JB instinctively re-calibrated his retinas, which allowed him to see clearly. He made a quick appraisal of his surroundings and could see that while the outbuilding might have served as a gardening shed at one time, it apparently hadn’t been used for decades. Judging from the dust and cobwebs that covered nearly every inch of the interior, it appeared that no one had been inside for years. The other thing that became clear to JB right away was that there seemed to be no way out. He was about to ask his cousin why he thought this was a good idea when Terry quickly went to a far corner of the room and ran his hand over the nearby wall. A moment later, there was a soft click as a small section of the floor, partially concealed under some shelving, slid aside, revealing a dark hole in the ground and the top of an aluminum ladder. Terry grabbed JB’s arm again, motioning for him to get in and climb down.

  Once they had both scrambled down the ladder, Terry slid the secret floor back in place and snap
ped on a flashlight that he snatched from a nearby wooden peg on the tunnel wall. The tunnel was cold and damp; tendrils of black mold grew on the walls, and spidery balls of lacy lichen hung overhead. The excavation was secured every few feet with columns and crossbeams that were fashioned from ancient timber. The air was moist and thick, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. They could hear the faint, muffled sounds of mayhem and gunfire coming from above. More disconcerting though, was the soft groaning of the earth and the creaking lumber from what was happening above ground, just a few feet above them.

  “Come on, Cuz,” Terry whispered. “This way.”

  JB followed behind, glad to be out of the alien’s line of fire and impressed with his cousin’s surprising resourcefulness. He had the sensation that they were heading downhill as they progressed further along the earthen tunnel, which was wide enough for them to walk side by side. Terry’s flashlight beam illuminated the hard-packed ground in front of them for several yards ahead, though JB with his enhanced vision could see well beyond that. Further ahead, the passageway turned to the right, revealing little about what lay ahead in the darkness.

  “These tunnels are from the days of the pirates; some say by Blackbeard his self!” Terry whispered loudly. “Story goes that he, and his buddies in the smuggling trade, made themselves a whole network of underground tunnels. An’ this here’s a secret is known only by the Sons of Freedom’s inner circle. Colin was sure right when he said that this day would come! Damn government an’ their secret weapons!”

  JB didn’t reply nor did he try to correct his cousin’s mistaken assumption as he followed behind him. The tunnel continued downhill for a while longer, leveling out and narrowing until they had to proceed single file. Finally, they emerged into a large natural cavern where standing in the glow of a propane lantern, was Colin Trench and several other heavily armed men.

  “Saddle up, boys!” Colin said when he saw JB and Terry enter the cavern. Like the three others that were standing next to him, he was strapped nine ways from Sunday. He had two automatic rifles, one hanging from each shoulder, and there were several fully charged belts of ammunition looped over his neck and around his chest. He wore one automatic handgun strapped to the center of his chest and two more on his belt. Several grenades and a sheathed blade that was more of a mini-machete than a knife were also attached to his belt. He would have brought a lot more weaponry, but he had decided it was in his best interests to travel light.

  A big, red-faced man that JB recognized as Jess from the beer contest handed rifles to Terry and JB as Colin Trench turned to address them. He gathered them all in close before he spoke in a hoarse voice that was barely above a whisper. He said, “Guys, it pains me deeply to say this, but I’m thinkin’ we’re all that’s left!”

  Jess, who had handed JB and Terry the weapons brandished his rifle and hissed, “I’ll never let ‘em take me alive!”

  Colin shook his head wearily and said, “Jesus, Jess! Would ‘ja stop thinkin’ with your M16! ‘Member what happened at Waco? Hell, we don’t have to fight our way outta here. The Feds ain’t Ocokers, an even most of the locals don’t know nothin’ about these smuggler tunnels.”

  Duane, the man JB had met that morning, was too out of breath to finish his sentences, but he still managed to wheeze, “What the… fuck was… that.”

  Another man spat out a wad of chewing tobacco, or maybe it was gum, but he clearly meant to punctuate his point. He said, “They’re using a secret government super-laser. No shit, I saw it on the History Channel. Did ya see what happened to Jasper? Fucker got cut in half!”

  Trent looked at him gravely and said, “Yeah, I saw, but I also saw a bunch of FBI agents go down the same way. It ain’t up to us to figure this out right now; we’ll leave that to the Feds. We only need to make it over to the marina and onto Jess’s boat. We’ll sail right on out of here before anybody is the wiser.”

  “Colin’s got it all figured out,” Terry assured JB. “Though I sure wish we could’a brought more pain to them gov’ment assholes!” he added angrily, gesturing with one of the weapons Jess had handed him.

  “Easy with that Terry,” cautioned Colin. “That mini-rocket launcher can bring down the whole goddamn cave!”

  “Sweet!” muttered Terry before he took Colin’s advice and lowered the weapon gently, allowing it to hang from the shoulder strap at his side.

  Colin had found a spot on the cavern’s floor and sat down with his back against the rock wall. He glanced at his watch and whispered loudly, “Alright guys. We’ll wait for everyone to catch their breath.” He looked at Duane, adding, “An’ then we go!”

  Duane waved Colin off. He said between gasps, “Ain’t no… picnic if ya… only got one lung.”

  “No worries,” said Jess. “We’ll hang here for a bit, right Colin?”

  “Fine with me,” Colin replied, but it was obvious that he, along with everyone else, was getting antsy.

  “Go ahead… Don’t wait… account o’ me,” Duane said, still trying to get his breathing under control.

  “Nobody’s goin’ anywhere unless you’re going too,” Colin promised and turned to the group. “Okay, we’re gonna hunker down for a bit, and then we’re gonna get the hell out of Dodge!”

  JB took a seat on the ground next to Terry and began to consider the events over the past half hour. If he didn’t have the benefit of his Sawbonites, he would have been physically sick at the realization that he had been responsible for bringing this down on all of them. The death and destruction had been a result of his stupidity. It had been a foolish assumption on his part that the aliens who hunted him would be dissuaded by a large crowd… Even a well-armed one. This was all on him. Lives were lost because of his naive presumptions, and while there was nothing he could do about it now, he promised himself that someday and somehow he would make the Har-Kankar very sorry… Provided he lived long enough.

  “Cousin Terry,” he whispered dolefully. “This here is all my doin’.”

  “What are you talkin’ about, ‘Cuz?” his cousin whispered back. “Them Feds did this…”

  “No!” JB said louder than he intended. “Wasn’t no Feds. I never in a million years thought they would try to get at me with so many other folks around.”

  “What the hell are you goin’ on about?” Colin interjected, overhearing their conversation.

  “What I’m try to say, is that weren’t no secret government weapon… It was them aliens trying to kill me.”

  Terry shook his head and sighed deeply. “You really got to let that go, JB. Aliens is a delusion.”

  “Delusions don’t fire ray guns that cut folks n’ half with a superheat blast. When was the last time y’all saw a Fed with a ray gun, Terr?” JB argued.

  “You heard Matt,” Terry countered. “It was on National Geographic…”

  “Nah, it was the History Channel,” corrected Matt.

  “Come on guys, keep your voices down,” Colin admonished. “We got out under the radar, an’ I want to keep it that way! Though, with everything that went on up there, I doubt if anybody will notice.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” agreed Jess glumly.

  “Let’s still be careful,” said Colin. He looked at JB and added, “We should never assume anything.”

  Once they had entered the cavern, they heard no sounds from above ground. Whether it was their deeper location underground, or whether the fighting topside had stopped, the eerie silence was broken only by Duane’s labored breathing.

  No one said anything until Colin checked his watch about twenty minutes later. “Alright, Duane, you good?”

  “I’m good, Brother,” Duane replied. He was wheezing, but no longer gasping for breath.

  “It’s time. Let’s go,” Colin ordered as he rose from the rock he had been sitting on. He walked over to each of the three tunnels that exited the cavern, raising the lantern to illuminate the entrance of each one in turn. When he finished, his expression changed, reflecting his concern an
d confusion. He turned to Terry and said, “Jesus! I thought we marked the tunnel that leads to the coast!”

  “Hell yeah, we marked it with yellow chalk. ‘Bout six or seven months back,” Terry replied. “Why? Ain’t it there?”

  “I don’t see it,” said Colin. “But, the moisture down here might have eroded it away.”

  “Ain’t that the shits!” complained Terry. “I don’t rightly remember which way it was either.”

  “Well, I think it’s that one,” Colin said, pointing to the tunnel directly opposite from the one that they had entered by.

  “Hey, I was down here with you two,” interjected Matt, pointing to a different tunnel. “I’m pretty sure it’s that tunnel over there.”

  Duane wheezed his objection, “I say we go the way Colin said.”

  “I second that,” Jess said tersely. “He ain’t never screwed up… Yet”

  “Hell, I ain’t one to argue,” Matt said shaking his head and throwing up his hands. “We’ll go Colin’s way, but I still say he’s wrong.”

  “If I screwed up, we’ll know soon enough,” Colin said. “Then, we’ll double back and take the other tunnel.”

  Colin and Terry led the group into the tunnel entrance and down another dark corridor. As JB followed what was left of the Righteous Sons of Real Freedom into the gloom, he was beginning to think that things couldn’t possibly get any more screwed up than they already were. Little did he know how wrong he was.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Underground Movement