Lost in Magadan: Extraterrestrials on Earth

by William Lee

  “West, Davis has been shot. He needs medical attention.” Snap began to detach the helmet for a better look at the wounds.

  “Is he going to make it?” West asked, as he peered into the scope of the sniper rifle towards the elusive enemy.

  Davis’ eyes fluttered open.

  “He’s alive, but I can’t tell how serious the injuries are. Got to get his FALOS armor off.” Snap began taking off the chest armor that was now adorned with two round holes.

  Davis screamed and pushed Snap away. Snap tumbled backwards and Davis, half clad in armor, jumped on top.

  “What the fuck,” Snap was cut short by Davis’ fist slamming into his already damaged helmet. Snap punched Davis in the chest hoping to connect with the wounds. Davis rolled off Snap howling in pain.

  Snap grabbed Davis to control and comfort him. “It’s okay man, we got you. You’re safe.”

  Davis’ eyes were open, but Snap could see that they were glazed over, like he was somewhere else.

  “Davis, wake up. Wake up.” Snap yelled, as he slapped Davis on the face.

  Davis continued to scream, “Stay away from me you monster. Get away from me.”

  West turned from the battle to see what was going on with Snap and Davis. “Snap, what’s wrong with Davis?”

  “I don’t know. He’s in some sort of trance. Thinks I am one of them.” Snap continued to cradle Davis in his arms, while he struggled to get free, screaming about demons and monsters.

  “It might not matter. With Moore and Davis down, the Russians are advancing. Looks like we are outnumbered now,” West said, as he peered out from behind cover.

  Davis stopped struggling, Snap could see recognition in Davis’ eyes – he was back. Snap released his grip on Davis.

  “Major, Major,” Davis managed to spit out between gulps of cold air.

  “Davis, take it easy. You’ve been shot. I need to see the wound. Let’s get the rest of this armor off.”

  “We don’t have time, Major.” West yelled. “The Russians are charging our position. I need you here now.” West fired two more rounds from the sniper rifle, dropped it, and switched to this DE rifle.

  Snap scrambled to the top of the pile of scrap metal and began firing at the advancing Russians.

  “There’s too many of them. We’re not going to make it,” West said, as the several Russians encroached on their position and began to flank them.

  Snap and West were on top of the heap of metal, and Davis lay below, where he could not move because of his injuries. Davis could not see the battle from his vantage point. Snap was focused on the Russians in front of him, firing his DE rifle when he heard a shrill scream.

  Davis screamed from his lowly position. “Snap, drop the DE and pick up the Lynx.”

  Snap dropped the DE rifle and dove for the 50 BMG.

  “RELOAD.” Davis screamed.

  How the fuck can Davis be giving orders from behind the pile of rubble? He can’t see shit.

  Snap’s instincts told him to do what Davis said, despite it making no sense. In seconds, the boxy magazine clicked into place, and the charging handle locked one 50 BMG into the chamber.

  “YOUR THREE O’CLOCK.”

  Snap spun to his right to see nothing. How can he see anything?

  “DOWN.”

  Snap lowered the rifle down just in time to see an Ondagra emerge from the twisted metal. He squeezed the trigger. The Ondagra lurched backwards and tumbled back down the pile of debris.

  “Shit, Davis. You just saved my life. But how could you have known that?”

  Before Davis could answer, ten more soldiers emerged from the blinding snow behind the Russians.

  Shit. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.

  “We have ten more operators joining the party at our twelve o’clock.” Snap said into the COMM.

  “Roger that, Major,” Williams confirmed.

  Then, the newcomers opened fire on the Russians. The Russians seemed to be just as surprised as Lightning Squad. Between the newcomers and Snap’s men, the Russians were surrounded and started falling quickly.

  “Who the hell are they?” Johnson asked.

  “I think they are the remaining crew, Impegi survivors,” Snap said, as he picked off a fleeing Russian.

  A few minutes later, the remaining Russians were dead or running off into the snowy oblivion. Snap leapt down the pile of rubble to Davis lying below. Now that Davis had gotten his armor off, Snap could see the two bullet wounds.

  “Shit, Davis. You look terrible.”

  “Thanks to your terrible aim, Major.”

  “Hey, I hit what I was aiming at. If not, you would be a cinder right now.”

  They traded awkward glances and then looked toward Moore, who had caught the sizzling beam that was meant for Davis.

  Davis shook his head, “That was meant for me.”

  Snap applied pressure to the wounds with sterile bandages from a concealed first aid kit hidden within each of their armor suits.

  “You’re lucky. The bullets lost most of their velocity when traveling through the alien armor,” Snap said, as he tossed a bloody bandage on to the deck.

  “I don’t feel lucky, Major.”

  “How did you know about that Ondagra sneaking up on me?” Snap asked, as he chemically cauterized Davis’ wounds.

  “I saw him,” Davis answered.

  “You could not possibly have seen him. He was nowhere near you, and he was on the other side of the rubble.”

  Davis sighed, “Since you shot me, I have been having visions – hallucinations. I can see the alien that you shot.”

  “Is he still alive?”

  “Very much so. You hit him. Not fatal. He is back at his ship being patched up now.”

  “How could you know that?” Snap asked, bewildered.

  “I just know. I know that I know.”

  Snap finished dressing the wounds and helped Davis put the armor back on.

  “We’re not done yet,” Snap said, as he helped Davis over the mound of metal and crushed containers to meet the Impegi crew.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Snap, with Davis by his side, approached Lightning Squad, who were gathering just inside the bulkheads of the Impegi. The wind was whipping through the fractured hull, carrying with it freezing snow. The newcomers were joined by Fabris and Catrix. The Impegi crew were wearing the same battle armor, which closely resembled the FALOS armor of Lightning Squad.

  As he joined the group of soldiers introducing themselves to each other, he noticed that the Impegi crew had raised the visors on their helmets, so that their faces could be seen.

  “Hello, I’m Commander Caliana Furier,” the woman with stunning ice-blue eyes said, in perfect unaccented English, as she extended her hand in the customary way.

  Shocked by the sight of such an attractive woman in this desolate place, Snap stuttered, “Hello, I’m Major Morgan Slade.”

  “This is Commander Forte,” Furier said, as she gestured toward the man standing to her right. “He was the, as you would say, CO of the Impegi.”

  “Pleasure to meet you Sir. Major Morgan Slade,” Snap said, as he raised the visor on his damaged helmet.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Major Slade. I understand your team is here to rescue us,” Forte said with a sarcastic grin.

  “Yes, well, so far, the rescue mission isn’t going as planned,” Snap replied, with an emphasis on ‘rescue.’ “We have three down and one wounded,” Snap said, nodding his head toward Davis.

  “Major, what is the extraction plan?” Forte asked.

  “Commander, we have seven C-17 cargo planes en route. They can’t land, but supposedly, we can fly your jump shuttles up to them.”

  “Huh, that sounds like a dangerous training exercise; more like a suicide mission in hostile territory, with at least two enemy AG fighters in the area,” Forte said with concern.

  Snap took a deep breath, glanced at Furier’s ice-blue eyes, and said, “It’s not qui
te that bad. The Cargo planes are running optical stealth and have a battery of defensive weapons.”

  “Our jump shuttles have chameleon mode,” Furier said with a smile. “That’s something working for us.

  “Speaking of the jump shuttles, where are they?” Snap asked.

  “Couple miles away, hiding. They can be here in a minute when we are ready to finish loading them up. When will the C-17s arrive?”

  Snap looked at the display on his forearm. “About 20 minutes. Let’s finish loading the jump shuttles and get out of here.”

  “Major, let me introduce you to the rest of my crew. Then we will load the jump shuttles.”

  The two men walked up to the Impegi crew, who were mingling with Snap’s team, recounting events from the battle. As Snap shook hands with Genu, he saw out of the corner of his eye a Russian through a gaping hole in the structure three decks up. The Russian was pointing an RPG directly at Snap’s team.

  Fuck. My visors up. No way to drop the visor and acquire targeting data before that asshole pulls the trigger. Hundred fifty yards away. Chances of bringing rifle to shoulder, manually targeting and firing before he can pull trigger- zero.

  “RPG,” Williams screamed, and pointed up.

  A flash of light from behind Snap and the RPG exploded in the Russian’s hands, killing him instantly. Snap whirled around to see Commander Forte lowering a laser rifle from his shoulder.

  “That was one hell of a shot, Commander. Did you do that freehand?” Snap asked, in amazement, noticing that the Commander’s visor was still up.

  “Yes Sir.”

  “You saved all of our lives, Commander,” Lignos said.

  “Thank you, Commander,” Catrix said, sighing in relief.

  “Wow. I had no idea you had skills like that, Commander,” Genu said with admiration.

  “Good thing he does, or we would all be crispy right now,” Stella said, as she squeezed the Commander’s hand and smiled.

  “West, Williams, Johnson, secure a perimeter. The rest of you, move these containers out into the open, where we can load up the jump shuttles. We’re out in ten.”

  The jump shuttles materialized a few dozen feet from the wreckage. The men, aided by their exoskeleton armor, easily carried the remaining containers to the jump shuttles.

  Commander Forte warned Snap, “We can’t get all the Element 115 on the jump shuttles. They are near max capacity.”

  “We don’t need to get far. We just need to get up a couple thousand feet to meet the C-17s,” Snap said.

  “I don’t know. If we overload the jump ships and are attacked, we have no maneuverability,” Forte said, shaking his head.

  “We only get one shot at this. Once the jump shuttles are in the air, we are not coming back to reload. We leave the rest of the cargo for the Russians.”

  In a matter of minutes, Snap and the other operators loaded up the shuttles, to standing room only for the soldiers and survivors.

  “Okay, we are full. Everyone find a shuttle and pile in. Let’s go,” Snap commanded the crew, and waived his arm toward the shuttles.

  “What about the remaining containers, Major?” Johnson asked. “Should we rig them with explosives?”

  “There’s too many of them, and they are still spread throughout the ship. Set time delayed explosives on the ones we have out, forget the rest,” Snap ordered.

  After seeing that all the operators and survivors had climbed aboard a jump shuttle, Snap entered the one that Furier was piloting. There were three Impegi crew squeezed in-between the containers that were stacked to the ceiling. Snap made his way to the front of the shuttle and sat beside Furier in the cockpit.

  “Is this really going to work? I mean, we really are going to fly this shuttle right into the belly of a C-17 cargo plane mid-flight?” Furier asked.

  “We’re going to do it. Will it work? Not my department. The eggheads Stateside say it can be done. And it’s our only option now,” Snap said flippantly. “I hope you’re a good pilot.”

  “So do I,” Furier said with a grin.

  The shuttle hummed to life and gently rose out of the snow. Snap could see the other shuttles rising, almost floating. One by one, they faded from view, as they activated their chameleon mode.

  “Where do you suppose the Ondagra fighters are?” Furrier asked.

  “I have no idea. Hopefully, they are damaged or have left the area with wounded,” Snap replied, as he snapped his safety harness into place.

  A few minutes later, the C-17 cargo planes could be seen in the low-level clouds before them. They were flying low and slow, with their rear bay doors open. Snap could see the first shuttle move into position and attempt to enter the cargo bay.

  “Holy shit. Those eggheads got something right,” Snap exclaimed, as the first shuttle nudged its way into the cargo plane.

  The C-17 activated its optical stealth and faded from view. Two more shuttles successfully docked in their cargo planes and disappeared into the clouds. Snap could see two men standing ready to help them enter at the cargo bay door. Furrier was about to make the final push into the open bay when there was a loud explosion, and the shuttle spun out of control.

  “What the fuck was that,” Snap yelled, as the shuttle raced toward the ground, the C-17 no longer in their field of vision.

  “We were shot by a particle beam. Brace yourself; we are going down,” Furier said coolly, as she attempted to regain flight controls.

  Snap braced himself. Seconds before impact, Furier engaged the craft’s shields.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Bob stood nine feet tall and had skin like Kevlar. He could lift a small automobile over his head and toss it like a brick. But the most remarkable thing about Bob was that he had absolute total memory recall. Every second of Bob’s lonely existence could be instantly remembered in the clearest of detail.

  Bob wasn’t born in a test tube, but he was conceived in one. He remembered the dark warmth of his mother’s womb, the bright light, and the scientist’s cold hands. He could not remember his mother’s face because he never saw it. Upon his birth, he was rushed to a scientific research lab, where he grew up with other children like him.

  Bob received the best education. Beginning at three years old, he was taught languages, history, geography, computers, politics, but mostly he was taught war. There was no art or music in the curriculum for his fellow child soldiers. He wasn’t given a name, just a number: 028. Bob knew he would die in combat; he was told that repeatedly during his lessons. He sometimes wondered if he had a soul. Would he burn in hell for all the people he had killed?

  His teammates in this mission had given him the name Bob. He liked it. It was the first time anyone had given him a name, and for that, he would always be grateful. He hoped that when he got back to base, that they would let him keep his new name.

  Bob sat in the back of the shuttle with several cargo containers. He did not wonder what was in them; that was not his concern. He had done his job, which was to load them up and get them home. Bob was the only member of Lightning Squad in the shuttle. Two Impegi crewmembers sat up front in the cockpit, and two were with him in the back, standing between containers.

  The shuttle slammed to a halt in the cargo bay of the C-17. The shuttle’s rear door opened; Bob began to climb out. When he looked up, he saw a man, who he instantly recognized to be a Vitahician, pointing a baby .380 at his face. Bob’s first thought was ‘why is this guy pointing a gun at me.’ His second thought was ‘is that a real gun.’

  The man fired the weapon at point blank range. Bob wasn’t afraid. He had been shot before, and by much larger weapons. Everything went black, and Bob was dead before he keeled over, face first into the hard metal deck.

  What Bob would never know, was that Mike Evans, the Vitahician that killed him, was a scientist at the same lab where Bob had been born and raised. Mike knew that Bob’s weakest point was his eyeball. Mike had shot Bob directly in his left eye, piercing his brain.

 
What Mike did not know, but it turned out in his favor, was that the jump shuttle had no other armor-clad soldiers in it. The four remaining on the shuttle were Impegi survivors, soft targets not expecting to be shot. In under a minute, all the shuttle occupants could no longer be classified as survivors.

  Almost done. If I can get this cargo to the Ondagra, then maybe, just maybe, I can get Nakita back. Hopefully, the flight crew did not hear the shots. The flight crew. I must eliminate them next.

  Mike knew that the giant fell where there were no security cameras, not that he could have moved him anyway. Mike only had two shots left in his small pistol, and three flight crew remained. Mike unsheathed the large combat knife strapped to the giant’s leg, and concealed it under his jacket.

  I must kill them all before any one of them radios Command. I need to get a head start before Command can dispatch interceptors.

  Mike calmly walked up to the cockpit where the three pilots were sitting, paying no attention to him. Mike smiled. They had no idea what had just happened in the back. Mike fired twice in rapid succession. The first bullet struck the man to his right in the neck. He grabbed his throat, trying to stop the gurgling blood. The second bullet struck the other man in the face, just under the eye.

  The pilot, realizing something was very wrong, tried to stand up and turn around. Mike lunged at the pilot with Bob’s combat knife. The pilot was able to deflect the lunge, and Mike went toppling over the co-pilot’s bloody body. The pilot pulled from his flight suit a Berretta pistol, but Mike had already recovered and grabbed the barrel of the pistol, pointing it toward the floor. The struggle continued until Mike plunged the knife into the pilot’s chest, causing him to go limp. Mike pulled the three dead bodies from the cockpit and collapsed into the pilot’s seat.

  Mike had never flown a C-17 Globe Master. However, he had flown planes in the past. He helped design flight systems in the past, and had read the flight control manual. Not to mention the fact that the now dead crew had been so kind as to show him the flight controls on the long trip to Siberia.