Indian Hill

by Mark Tufo

  Word came down the following day that the Supreme Commander wished to visit with the final nine warriors. Maybe he wanted to express his undying gratitude for our showmanship. I would have loved to have made it his dying gratitude but such pleasantries had to wait. If the Supreme Commander wanted to see us then that’s what we would do. I just had to take full advantage of that fact.

  We met the Supreme Commander the following day with his entourage. Apparently we were either too far beneath him or he didn’t speak English, because he never once addressed us personally. It was all through one of his men or women (I still had no clue if this species reproduced sexually or asexually). He basically just wanted to thank us for a job well done, and as gesture of goodwill he laid out a spread worthy of a king. There were lobsters and steaks and every imaginable food along with, bless his heart, beer. It was a bitter beer but it was beer nonetheless. The only thing that would have made it a good night would have been if I wasn’t with eight guys that wanted me dead, but I was truly unconcerned with all of them save one, Troy. I tried desperately to make contact with him without appearing to make contact with him. Leonard didn’t give a care about anyone else there, he paid no attention to anything except the food and the beer. Durgan was too busy attempting to intimidate everyone. The rest I felt were much more on my wavelength, yeah they had confidence and some swagger but they were also leery. They were aware of everything going on around them, they like me were attempting to size up their competition, and it was then that I noted Troy looking directly at me. My heart leaped into my throat; this might be the only chance I had, and if he misconstrued my message we both would be sunk. I pointed at my chest and then at his and mouthed the words ‘me and you.’ At first he had a quizzical look upon his face and then my hopes sunk as anger began to cross his face. I think he thought I was directly challenging him. And then thankfully recognition dawned; he nodded once in agreement. So the plan was set. I could only hope that he would hold up his end of the bargain. And to be honest it wasn’t much of a plan, we had merely bargained to forestall our own demise in favor of killing the far more dangerous of us three. What a twisted world we had stumbled upon, in all the imaginable tangents I could have foreseen my life going into, this one wasn’t even on the scope. After I had made my intentions clear to Troy I actually partook of the abundance in front of me. In some respects this could be my last meal, who knew. The beer was bitter but it was beer nonetheless. And it was not as bitter as my thoughts as I dwelled on the upcoming battle.

  CHAPTER 32

  Outside Vail, Colorado

  “That’s it Dewey you’ve got it. Now stay steady and squeeze the trigger, don’t pull it,” Paul said as he moved down the firing line to check on the rest of the recruits. It wasn’t much of an army, twenty-two people to be exact, but he knew the government was covering up the whole alien conspiracy. Dewey had been in the parking lot when the ship came and took his friends away. No matter who he pleaded his case to they always turned a deaf ear. And he was sick of it. Paul, after his latest visit with Senator Allard, had decided to take matters into his own hands. Not many people took him seriously but he had a small decently armed and growing militia. And he had left enough fliers on campus so that when the shit did hit the fan the rest of the non-believers would have a semi-safe haven. Paul had never been one to embrace military affairs, that was always best left to those who were trained for such things. But by sheer luck or divine will he ran into a character named Frank Salazar, a former Marine, who had been taking a few classes on the campus to further his education. Paul and Frank didn’t necessarily see eye to eye but they both believed in the cover-up and the impending invasion. Nobody comes down to earth and scoops up ten thousand people or so without some kind of ulterior motive. Frank still had some connections at the reserve station in Colorado Springs. The sergeant of the armory was sympathetic to the new cause and was also a ranking officer in the newly founded Colorado State Militia. M16A2’s and the corresponding ammunition had somehow fallen off of a truck bound for Twenty-Nine Palms and landed in the militia’s arms. The makeshift army had found an old hiker’s cabin, the kind that are built way out in the wilderness so that if someone is caught out in severe weather, they might be lucky enough to stumble across one of them. The cabin itself was used mainly for meetings; the men had started building bivouac huts. They figured two would be enough to house them all comfortably. Paul had them build twelve. It was difficult to train against an enemy when you didn’t even know what they looked like. The majority of their days were spent on honing their survival skills such as chopping wood for the coming winter, storing food, keeping the generators in peak operating condition and building and reinforcing the original structures. And when the basic chores were completed, the men all practiced their shooting under the watchful eye of Frank. He was by far the most qualified having attained three expert badges while in the Corps. And he had been thoroughly pleased with the progress of his men. Eight of them were without a doubt experts, ten were good enough that you didn’t want to be in their line of fire, and three, well those three needed a little more tender loving care, and a lot more ammunition. Well at least Frank knew which three to put on the perimeter defense. If you couldn’t shoot you had to be closer to the action. Frank saw to the training and the discipline of the men. He felt that they were truly beginning to gel into a fighting force. He wouldn’t want to take them up against Marine regulars but these guys could give the army a run for their money. Paul saw to the day-to-day affairs, recruitment, and if he couldn’t get a warm body he was always looking for cold hard cash. And there were a lot of people out there who wouldn’t publicly admit to what was happening, but when it went down they also wanted that safe haven. The U.S. government hadn’t even mobilized the National Guard yet. By this stage of the game U.S. Marines should have been stationed at every major city. Frank was under the impression that the National Guard would take three to four full days to mobilize. The way the ships moved they’d be lucky to have a three or four hour warning. No, these small bands of brothers had made the decision to not go out like lambs, helpless to the slaughter.

  “Frank, how is Generator Four doing? Paul asked

  “So far so good but it’s going to need a new valve before the winter sets in. We don’t want to get caught up here without enough juice when the snow sets in.”

  “Alright I’m running down to Boulder today, I heard there are three more recruits and a couple of thousand dollars in donations coming our way. Ask the men if there is anything special they want while I’m in town. Oh, and Frank...”

  “Yeah,” Frank said as he turned back around.

  “Tell the men that two out of the three new recruits are women, and if they are anything but perfect gentlemen, I will let you use them for targets.”

  “Yes sir,” Frank said with a grin. He knew Paul wasn’t kidding. “Dude, you really should have been in the Marines.”

  “Dude huh? Is that a military term?” Paul smiled. “Naw, I could have never been in the Marines especially with those god-awful haircuts.”

  “You mean high and tights?”

  “Yeah those friggen things, besides women love this long hair.”

  “Well I guess we all have our faults,” Frank snorted. “I’ll get Bivouac Eight set up for the women.”

  “Frank.”

  “Yeah boss.”

  “Make sure there are no extra holes in the sides.”

  “I’ll check on it myself, Paul. Drive safe, see you tonight. Hey, why don’t you snag some Mickey D’s on the way back. Stop at the one in Georgetown and tell the manager, a pencil necked little geek named Richard, that you know me. He’ll hook you up.”

  “Excellent, and get on Dewey will you, his shooting is terrible. I don’t even want to be in the same room with him when he shoots darts.”

  Frank smiled. “Hey Paul, someone has to be on the front line of defense.”

  “Alright, alright I’ll be back in a few hours.” Paul turned and hoppe
d into his brand new Jeep Wrangler courtesy of the dealership owner who had a son training here at this very moment. What a strange twist of events his freshman year had turned out to be. His dad had told him these would be the most memorable times of his life. Somehow he figured this wasn’t what he had meant. ‘Mike, I swear to you and Beth that I will avenge your deaths.’ He felt with utter conviction that all those people had been slaughtered and he meant to do all that was in his growing power to do something about it.

  CHAPTER 33

  Washington D.C.

  “Dr. Schoville, what are the chances that the aliens can see that bomb?” the President asked with just a little more conveyed tension than he wished the cabinet members to see.

  “Well Mr. President, I think the proof is in the pudding,” the professor answered in all seriousness.

  “Dr. Schoville, pardon me,” the President said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m tired and I’m more than a little worried, what exactly do you mean?”

  “Well sir,” the professor said without missing a beat. “Our shuttle is still there. If they suspected the magnitude of the device on board I have no doubt that they would have eliminated it a long time ago. And to be honest with you sir, they still have a long way to go and we know the aliens could strike at their leisure.”

  “And that is my concern,” the President noted.

  “Mr. President, if I may.” Captain Moirane stood up.

  “By all means Captain, your opinion is always welcome here.”

  “Well sir, like the good professor noted, if they knew of the device on board they would have eliminated the threat as soon as the shuttle left the planet. With that new platinum wrap around the warhead I don’t think even the most advanced scanning equipment in the galaxy would detect anything more than some random naturally occurring radiation.”

  “Captain, what is the prognosis for the crew of the shuttle?” the President said , once again rubbing the bridge of his nose.

  “Sir, they were all volunteers and they knew exactly what they were getting into,” the Captain answered as neutrally as possible.

  “I know they were volunteers. I am asking you as a military person, what do you believe their odds of coming back from this are?”

  “Sir, knowing that they have to get close enough to loose that missile without giving the aliens a chance to blow it up or move their ship... well sir, they’d never be able to get their ship far enough away in time, they'll be killed by the initial blast.”

  “So in your expert opinion you think...”

  “I think we should be preparing drafts for the parents, wives and children of those men.”

  “Thank you Captain, that is all.” The President sat back down in his chair, bracing himself for the whopper of a migraine that was mere moments away. But he knew he had one more task to complete before this night was through.

  “Alright, everybody is dismissed for the evening but please wake me should any new events arise.” Although he was fairly certain sleep would once again not visit the White House. “Captain.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Send in Mrs. Cavanaugh on your way out.”

  “Yes sir, right away sir.”

  Mrs. Cavanaugh was the President’s personal secretary and had been at his side since he was a lowly district man back in Massachusetts. She entered the room and assessed the situation at a moment’s glance. “Joseph, why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep,” Mrs. Cavanaugh suggested with concern written all over her face.

  “I would love to Mrs. C, but the fate of the world I fear is resting squarely on my shoulders.”

  “It’s going to be tough to hold the weight of the world up when you yourself are barely standing.”

  “Point well taken, but I have to do this one final thing before I call it a night. Could you please take some dictation for me?”

  “Certainly Joseph.”

  “Mrs. C, when are you going to start calling me by my title?”

  “Joseph, I’ve known you since you were a wet eared kid out of Harvard, you’ve never called me Betty and I’ve never called you by whatever title you had at the time. That’s just who we are. I see no reason to change that now.”

  “I guess you’re right Mrs. C. Now is not the time to change anything more than what already has been. That’s the first time I’ve felt like smiling in the last month,” the President said with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Ah, there is the Joseph I know and love.”

  “And now back to the reason why I wanted you here.”

  “Do you want me to start on the letters to the families of the shuttle crew?”

  “Mrs. C, you really need to stop listening at the door.”

  “How else am I going to make sure that you’re doing the right thing? Go to bed Joseph, I’ve written enough of these letters to know how it’s done.”

  “And that’s the problem Mrs. Cavanaugh, I keep sending brave young men to their deaths and here we are safe and warm in our home.”

  “It’s the lot you drew in life and don’t go feeling all sorry for yourself, you are a true leader of men. You’ve averted at least two great wars since your time in office and the one war you had to fight you made decisive decisions that saved the lives of countless thousands. And you are now sending some of this country’s bravest men on a suicide mission to save potentially the lives of billions. You’ve known all along that the few always have to be sacrificed for the many.”

  “Once again Mrs. C you’ve gone where none of my top advisors will ever go. You tell it to me straight. Not necessarily what I want to hear, but always what I need to hear. But no, I will not leave you here alone to write these letters.” Mrs. Cavanaugh began to protest but the President just motioned her to sit back down.

  “Dear Mr. and Mrs…”

  CHAPTER 34 – Journal Entry 24

  With one week to go I did not have a lot of confidence in my alliance with Troy, was a nod enough to trust my life to this man? I watched his bouts, but I saw no overt signs of him being any less sane than myself. As far as I could tell he also didn’t hurt his women. Maybe this made him honorable or maybe it didn’t but my best chance still lay with him. Deb had become more reclusive than I ever had and Stephanie had practically vanished from sight. Tanya slowly but surely took over the daily household affairs. The house had seemed a lot more subdued those last few weeks, possibly due to the fact that the end was so near, and nobody knew their fates, not with any certainty anyway. I conditioned my body for six hours a day, whether it was on the treadmill or practicing martial arts movements. I was quite literally impressed with the machine I had become. Too bad it took death matches to get me into shape, but for good or bad I was a bona fide lean mean killing machine. The women folk seemed especially nervous this time around or maybe my senses were just a little bit more heightened, either way I was walking on the edge of a razor. It hurt to walk up there but it beat falling off into the abyss. I said my prayers and had a sort of group hug with the women more so for them than me. I was attempting distance, but women are like that, all touchy feely, what are you gonna do.

  I headed off to the games. I walked into the arena first because I was the lowest ranking which this time didn’t bother me that much, it gave me a chance to survey the field that much longer. The aliens had scaled down the football size arena into something more along the size of arena football. And this time it was round unlike its rectangular predecessors. I guess it gave them the chance to squeeze more fans into the place. And it also gave none of the competitors any advantage. We would all be let in at equi-distant points around the circle. Leonard entered next and was not given a rousing applause, apparently his lack of variety in the kill didn’t sit well with the masses. And there it was, my extra time paid off. His weapon of choice was about thirty yards to his left and forty yards to my right. My mind was racing, could I get there before him? He was scrawny but he was fast and he had a ten yard head start. And the footing could be treacherous. It was
a jungle motif, but not a necessarily dense one. They must have had complaints about obstructed views of kills. There were trees and vines but they were spread out, mostly there were twisted roots on the ground. Running could prove perilous. Troy was finally led in on the far end of the circle, he was a good sixty or seventy yards away from the action, and I still had no way to tell which side if any he was playing for. The buzzer lit and I hauled ass. Leonard saw my move and also started to sprint. Shit, I thought to myself, he’s friggen fast. I had made up about five yards before he fully realized what I was attempting to do. But that was it, he was closing in fast, would he have enough time to grab the bow, turn and fire? I almost faltered, my feet slid, and the aliens went nuts. They were expecting an early kill, well they were right. He was less than ten feet away and I was twenty to twenty-five feet away. I almost sheared off, had there been anywhere around to take cover I would have. But I was out in the open and I was committed. I didn’t even want to turn to see what Troy was up to, for all I knew he was sitting back at his entrance just waiting to see which one of us bought it first. Not a bad idea, I wish I had thought of it. I was still running full tilt when I noticed Leonard had a small problem with the bow, the string got hung up on the hook it was suspended from. I just might make it, and then it came free. Damn he brought it up fast. I had so fully committed myself to the charge I didn’t even bring a knife to a bow and arrow fight. So I did the only thing that I could, I ran straight into him. Not as if I was tackling him, but I just kept running as if he was never there. There was a loud snap as we collided, I was pretty sure I had dislocated my left shoulder. I guess the protrusion from my shoulder gave it away, that and the flaring pain, but I had taken the little bastard’s rib out, he was screaming like a little girl. But it didn’t stop him, he knew the drill. My momentum had driven him against the wall and that had lent him some support, to my regret he had never let go of the bow. I was carried directly into the wall, and unfortunately these weren’t padded like in major league baseball, no, these had more the consistency of National Hockey League walls. I crumpled like a tin can, I hoped he'd make a clean hit. I rolled over to face my exodus, Leonard had finally regained enough of his poise to stop his screaming. I think I punctured one of his lungs because he was sucking a lot of air, but his five minutes of life were ten times the amount that I was looking at. He raised his bow and pulled the string back and then his face just disappeared. The cavalry had come! Troy had planted his mace square in Leonard’s face. The arrow still came dangerously close to my head, but to this day I will never forget the vision of Leonard’s face turning into pulp right before my eyes. Fragments of bone and tissue flew everywhere, and an eyeball went into the stands where one of the Progerians made a handy snack out of it. It was if I was watching life one frame at a time, I could watch as each individual pieces of his face went flying into different directions. Then time stood still and then it raced ahead; Troy was coming my way and he had a mace, I was still partially dazed from my wall contact and I’m pretty sure I had a concussion. Well, I thought to myself, at least I made it easy for him. And then he surprised the hell out of me, he offered his hand. The aliens were pissed, they were throwing things on the arena floor. Some of the debris looked like femurs; they probably had a fried leg stand somewhere in that hell hole. Well it couldn’t get any worse, I figured he could either kill me on the ground or standing up. At this point it made little difference to me.