EnEmE: Fall Of Man

by R. G. Beckwith

  Before I could dwell any further on these thoughts, my attention was directed back to the here and now, and to the man who lay dying in the wreckage of his life’s work.

  “Hah, fuck!” yelled Albright, his mind suddenly jumping back to the conscious world. “Those alien bastards thought they could take me out with my own building.”

  For the first time it was really sinking in to me that if the story Hauer had told was true, that even if they were a seed inside of us, they were aliens. . . a race from another planet.

  Hauer had already begun to climb down the pile of rubble toward the man he once looked up to as a leader. Upon hearing Albright’s voice, he scrambled faster, quickly crouching over his fallen hero.

  With some assistance from Kiebler for my sore and shaky limbs, I scrambled toward the elderly soldier.

  “Shhh, save your energy, give yourself some time to recover,” said Hauer, as he pulled a canteen from his belt.

  The older man took a small drink and then looked up into Hauer’s eyes with a knowing look.

  Now that Kiebler and I were closer we could see that a large section of re-bar from the exploded wall was now impaled through Albright’s lower left midsection and oozing blood at an alarming pace.

  “I’m done, Hauer,” Albright said, with a sad, forlorn expression on his face. “They did me in, but I want to go on my own terms. Let me take these fuckers with me. You all need to move on and regroup so you can bring the wrath of every God-fearing American down on these fuckers.”

  “Don’t say that, Captain. We can get a couple of tourniquets, tie you off, and take you with us,” argued Hauer, emotion choking his words.

  “Don’t be stupid,” barked Albright. “There’s no time for that. I can hear their machines outside right now. They are preparing to regroup and enter full force this time. If you are here, then any resistance efforts that humanity can muster will be short of a valuable tactical mind.”

  Through a rush of emotion, the red faced Hauer managed to say, “Thank you, sir!”

  “You need to survive,” said Albright. “There’s a panel in the floor behind the cash register. It drops down into an arsenal. Load up and take all the weaponry you can carry. There are roughly 1000 pounds of C4 down there, located directly beneath me. Activate the wireless fuses and bring me the remote detonator. The armory has a tunnel that will take you to the storm drain system. There should be a manhole into the parking lot next door, but you can try to get out there. If you can’t, you can continue in the storm drain to the next manhole. It should put you into the hospital parking garage.

  Hauer looked up solemnly at the rest of the group.

  “One team will have to try and take the hospital,” said Hauer. “A smaller team will have to go to Memorial Coliseum and see if the radio squawk about survivors gathering there is true.”

  We quickly set to work following the retired Captain’s orders. Luckily, the armory had an assortment of weapons belts and holsters. Kiebler and I helped each other quickly strap them on and load up with all manner of handguns, knives and grenades as well as ammunition while the soldiers loaded down with AK-47s and C4 explosive charges.

  Alvarez pressed the radio receivers into cubes of C4 that had been piled like a pyramid and switched them on.

  I leaned out of the trap door in the floor while the others waited below as Hauer strode back into the remains of the store alone. We could all hear the loud diesel engines of the heavy artillery machines pressing toward the building, along with the footsteps of at least 50 host soldiers marching toward us. The thick dust cloud made them take a cautious approach, but now that it was settling, they were preparing to attack.

  Hauer grabbed Albright by the shoulders and propped him up into a sitting position, so he could face his attackers head on. He handed the remote detonator to Albright. The former comrades stared at each other for a moment. Words escaped them. Then Albright saluted Hauer.

  “It has been an honor, Captain Albright,” said Hauer, returning the salute and ignoring the tears threatening to roll down his face.

  “It has been a privilege, Master Sergeant Hauer,” Albright returned.

  After another moment the two ended their salute and Hauer quickly ran over to the trapdoor and we quickly ducked back into the floor.

  “Send ‘em to hell, sir!” Freeman managed to call out as I was shutting the floor panel.

  “You can goddamned bet I will,” replied Albright over his shoulder, the last thing we heard before the panel shut.

  As soon as our escape hatch was bolted down, every person, civilian and soldier alike, broke into a sprint down the corridor to the storm drain system.

  Hauer’s shouts of “Move! Move! Move!” were nearly drowned out by the sounds of machinery and marching footsteps above.

  We reached the street level manhole in the adjacent parking lot just in time to hear the brave final act of Captain Albright.

  Moments before…

  While the group ran down the escape tunnel the host army pressed forward. Nearly 70 armored soldiers under the control of their alien hive mind stormed through the broken windows of what had once been a busy surplus outlet. The soldiers ran in firing, expecting a fight. Some began to look around the building and at the debris, figuring out that the people inside had escaped and a group began to search for the exit as more soldiers kept pouring in. Most barely noticed an elderly human sitting in the remnants of the building as he bled to death. One soldier took notice and fired his energy rifle, hitting Albright in the chest. Luckily for Albright, the weapon was not fully charged and only shattered his ribcage with concussive force, instead of vaporizing him.

  The blast forced Albright backward into the rubble, and the host soldier stood startled, looking back and forth between the human and his energy gun as Albright slowly sat himself back up. Albright glared defiantly into the cold reflective visor of the soldier walking toward him as he spit out a mouthful of dark blood. Mere feet away now, the soldier leaned forward, looking at Albright as if he were a very perplexing lab specimen. The former captain was bleeding profusely and near death, surrounded by armored soldiers looking to exterminate some humans. He looked into his assailant’s visor with a wide grin and slowly lifted the remote detonator in his hand for his would-be killer to see.

  Albright let out a mighty battle roar and pressed the giant red button with his thumb.

  As we peeked out the manhole, we only had to wonder a moment whether Albright’s plan succeeded.

  A thunderous roar shook the Earth. The surplus store erupted, with the alien host soldiers still pressing themselves inside. It made me think of being up close and personal with an angry volcano. For a split second the remains of the building began to topple inward before an invisible concussive force pushed them outward, followed by several giant fireballs, each one bigger than the last, blending into each other. Flames reached 50 feet high as flaming debris of building, machines and soldiers scattered for a half mile in each direction.

  We were hit with a sudden wave of heat, forcing the group back down into the tunnel to escape the heat, flames, and flying debris.

  Hauer gathered us and addressed the group.

  “All right,” Hauer started. “A brave man just made a great sacrifice to help buy us some time.”

  We all looked at each other solemnly and nodded.

  “Alvarez and Bradley, there’s a tree line running along the drainage ditch to the west. I need the two of you to use it for cover and make your way to the coliseum and bring any survivors back here,” Hauer ordered. “Freeman, Kiebler and I will follow the tunnel until it exits into the Hospital Parking facility and try to take the building.”

  “I…I think I’d prefer to go with Jace,” Kiebler said hesitantly.

  “Yeah, why do we need to go into the hospital?” I asked. “Won’t the coliseum hold plenty of people? Can’t we all just go there?”

  Hauer thought for a moment and looked at us both sternly.

  “The coliseum
does hold plenty of people, but there won’t be any access to medical supplies and equipment that we need in the hospital, and there’s no telling how long food and water would hold out there,” said Hauer. “And, Kiebler, I need you with the hospital team. You’re the only member of the group with any medical knowledge and Freeman and I are the most experienced in taking hostile targets.”

  Hauer turned his head and looked directly at me.

  “Bradley, I need your police experience to help with crowd control, so I need you to go with Alvarez. Bring back any survivors to stage an offence in case my team doesn’t make it.” He barked, “And I don’t take kindly to having my orders questioned in front of my men!”

  Kiebler and I exchanged a glance, as the seriousness of Hauer’s words sank in for both of us.

  “S...Sorry. I should have known,” I managed to muster.

  “Don’t worry; we’ve all had a long day.” Hauer said.

  Moments later Hauer’s team moved down the tunnel while Alvarez and I headed back out toward heat, smoke and daylight. I looked back to steal what could perhaps be my last glance of the other team and saw Kiebler doing the same toward me. Then they disappeared into the darkness and Alvarez and I stepped out into the sound of deafening explosions.

  Chapter 10 – Flying Saucers

  Alvarez and I re-entered the blinding light of the outside world and stepped right into a scene rivaling the biblical visions of hell. Waves of oppressive heat caused us to sweat, feeling like another moment of exposure would begin to scorch our skin. Dead host soldiers were strewn about in pieces all over the asphalt parking lot and once busy side road that ran by Albright’s store, now a blackened, flaming crater.

  At least a dozen injured and dying were crawling from the wreckage in different states of grotesque deformity. Soldiers, many with odd numbers of limbs thanks to the explosion, moaned and reached for the sky. Aside from the movements of the injured and the flames rising from the carnage, everything else was eerily still.

  An armored host soldier crawled toward us on the ground just a few feet away, dragging a trail of bloody veins and sinews where his legs used to be. The soldier reached out at us, clawing the air and uttering a ghastly growl. Alvarez calmly stepped forward, pressed the muzzle of his automatic rifle to the soldier’s head and plugged him through the head with a single bullet, leaving a thick red spray on the pavement.

  “Let’s go,” was all that Alvarez said, becoming more serious than I’d seen him in the short while since we had met.

  In one fluid motion, Alvarez pulled a grenade from his belt, popped the latch mechanism with his hand, and tossed the grenade into a gathering of injured host soldiers.

  We both turned and headed toward the tree line as the grenade erupted, leaving flaming bits of armor pattering across the ground behind us.

  The tree line was roughly 10 yards in from the ditch at the side of the road. We hiked quickly, using the trees as cover, for about half a mile before we heard a rumbling engine coming out way. Alvarez ducked under some brush while I crouched behind a large dead tree trunk, its surface soft with moss and wood rot. Moments later a large armored tank, an Abrams M1, barrelled by at full speed, loaded with host soldiers on the lookout for any humans offering resistance. Alvarez and I exchanged a glance. We both knew that the two of us had no chance against its firepower. All we could do was hope that they didn’t think that the drainage ditches would be a desirable hiding place for any surviving humans as they headed toward our friends.

  When we felt that the tank had gotten a safe distance away we jumped up and moved double-time through the thick brush that followed the road. After another mile and a half, our convenient cover ran out. The tree line came to an abrupt end at a solid wooden fence, which separated a residential development from the wild brush that had given us cover.

  Alvarez took the first, tentative peek out of our hiding spot, his weapon at the ready. He took a step out, cautiously looking back and forth as he stepped into the street.

  Nothing happened.

  We exchanged glances, looking up into the sky and back at each other. No words were exchanged, but the seriousness on his face said it all. Shit was crazy. Large rust colored objects were hovering in the air, with very large one not very far from our target, the California Memorial Coliseum. Flying saucers.

  He waved me ahead to follow him and we sprinted across the road. Ahead, in the distance, we could see our objective. The massive California Memorial Coliseum was hazy in the distance, large enough to be visible, but still a 5-6 mile trek in what was now hostile territory. All was eerily silent, except the sound of our boots on the pavement. We dashed into the well-manicured lawn of some suburban Californian, looking for a safe place for cover. We crouched against the wall of one of the modest brick houses.

  Alvarez looked ahead for any sign of insurgents while I kept an eye out behind us. When he saw that the coast was clear, he would wave me ahead. We would criss-cross each other running for cover behind buildings, taking turns looking forward and behind. We did this several times, ducking behind sheds, under porches, and around corners of buildings.

  As we crouched beside one house, preparing to make another dash to the next hiding spot, the brick wall above Alvarez’s head exploded, pelting us with grit and dust.

  Alvarez ducked and rolled into the yard just in time to avoid the next energy burst that turned the section of wall where he had been standing into powder. Alvarez rolled while simultaneously levelling his gun and opening return fire in the direction of the shots.

  Voices shouted orders that I couldn’t quite make out over the ringing in my ears. A platoon of host soldiers aimed an array of energy and regular projectile weapons at us and opened fire. I was lucky enough to stumble out of a shrub just before it was vaporized. Opening return fire with the Stechkin APS I’d grabbed from Captain Albright’s armory, I was able to bound across the street and rejoin Alvarez in the other side, unscathed.

  Bricks exploded and bullets flew from all directions behind us as we desperately ran for cover between buildings. We ran so hard my lungs began to burn, my breathing so fast and shallow I thought I would suffocate; I lagged behind the military man, who was in much better shape. I stopped for a moment to lean on a building.

  “No, we can’t stop here!” screamed Alvarez, as he turned and reached for my shoulder.

  That’s when a fine red mist erupted from Alvarez’s right side and a look of pain and surprise crossed his face. A bullet had gone clean through his right side, evidenced by the large hole ripped in his uniform and the growing red stain at his side.

  “Fuck!” I screamed, as I realized that my weakness may have just cost my companion dearly.

  Behind Alvarez, who was now in shock, I saw the squad of host soldiers rounding the corner of the house we were leaning against. I quickly grabbed a grenade from the Alvarez’s belt and, mimicking his actions earlier, tossed it at the group before they could take aim at us.

  Holding Alvarez over my shoulder, we half-ran, half hobbled across another quiet street as another brick wall exploded behind us, this time accompanied by pained groans of the host soldiers pursuing us.

  We quickly made our way through several backyards and around several fences. Alvarez could no longer jump the fences, so we scurried down the driveway of another house and around a corner into the back yard, looking for cover. The home had a cement stairwell that sank deep into the ground, leading to a cellar door.

  I took the calculated risk that the stairwell would give us cover and protection, worth the sacrifice of being able to see what was going on in all directions.

  I set Alvarez down at the bottom of the stairs. He winced in pain, his hands reacting subconsciously, trying to protect his wound from some unseen danger.

  “It’s gonna be all right, buddy,” I said. “This is nothin’ for a tough guy like you, right?”

  “Got that right.” Alvarez responded through clenched teeth.

  I crept back up the stairs a few
steps toward the surface, just enough to peek out.

  Nothing.

  I crept back down the stairs and sat next to Alvarez.

  “All clear. We just need to sit tight.” I grinned reassuringly to Alvarez.

  On a whim I reached out and tested the handle on the cellar door. It was unlocked! I couldn’t believe our luck. I hefted Alvarez over my shoulder again and we slowly, tentatively entered the darkened basement.

  Aside from a few paint cans and a pin pong table, there was little to see in the whitewashed room. With my pistol drawn we cautiously made our way up the stairs that led into the kitchen. I set Alvarez down next to an island between an open room and a beautiful and silent dining room. I quickly inspected that floor and the upstairs. The bedrooms were clear, so I quickly went back downstairs after grabbing a first aid kit from the bathroom. I tossed the kit to Alvarez, who quickly began rifling though it for supplies that he could use to practice his field medical training on himself.