Novels2Search
Charade
One hundred and thirty

One hundred and thirty

There was no fighting the weapon that now destroyed the survivors of the ground attack. Spears of light drove men to the dirt; melted and charred bones, all that remained after a brief exposure.

The few men left alive bolted for cover, be it the trees or the cars, the house seemed too far away to survive the distance. The natural desire to find protection and scattering in multiple directions seemed to give the aliens in the UFO pause; it hovered in the same spot, then with an indiscernible reasoning picked a target and chased the man as he ducked behind a car.

Again, the beam struck down like lightening bursting a car asunder in a flash of exploding gasoline. Hidden in the eruption was the scream of the man as he burned to death.

The spacecraft darted to one side and again fired the weapon, missed, moved and fired, with the strobe of its assault flashing on the faces of the people in the house while they watched the deliberate hunt in horror.

“We can’t go out there.” John declared from the window. “That damn thing will fry us the second we go out the door.”

“Why doesn’t it shoot at us?” Lia asked while she handed a refill of the pitcher to Casey.

“A classic delaying action,” The soldier dumped the pitcher on the older woman, watched her for a moment, then proceeded to the next coma victim. “They want us to stay in the house until reinforcements arrive.”

He knew the soldier. Turner was certain the man had spent years in his company, always taking orders from him and always prepared to fight. He could recognize some of the man’s features, but he could not remember his name.

“We have to escape,” Turner said as he sat on the floor, his head hurting from the treatment of the rescuers.

“No shit,” the big man standing by the door replied without humor.

“The next wave will get him,” Casey said as he lowered Sally to the floor, then clouted her with the haft of his knife.

The enigmatic answer enraged John, but he restrained the desire to wield his gun on Casey. “Do you really think the aliens will blast themselves out of the sky?” he asked acidly.

“He means the second assault wave from McCoy,” Turner said, to his own surprise. Somehow, the memory of the orders he had read on the computer were still in his head. He could even remember the moment the aliens had stunned them all into a standing coma. The forgetfulness had to be a second step done to each after immobilized. “A standby chopper launched from the Superior airport. After action, support was to be done by the force out of McCoy.” The house shook to a nearby shot. “Two Blackhawks with ground forces and two Apache’s.”

“Your Recon force fired on us,” Parker said emotionlessly, then walked to Turner and picked the man up from the floor with a hand to his shirt. “You’re killing my friends.”

Despite his pain, Casey was between the men and forcing Parker away from Turner before anyone in the room could react. “How much can you remember?”

“Only what I read on the computer upstairs,” he stared at Parker as he spoke, while the horror of an order to kill was plain on Turner’s face.

“Then listen close.” Casey ordered, then continued his treatment of the alien victims. “This project was not for anyone to die. It was a simple misinformation mission. The kill order had to come after the emergency beacon.”

“That was me,” Turner affirmed the deduction. “But how did the aliens decide to come here of all times?”

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“Who was the man who kidnapped Sylvia?” Parker asked.

“This is not questions and answers,” Casey snapped as he worked. “We do not have the time for questions, so shut up and listen. With the kill order given, you need to get out of here and hide from the helicopters. Those aliens will be too busy with the next assault wave to deal with you. When they arrive, you go to the ravine and set fire to the downed helicopter; the heat from the fire will hide you from thermal imagining and night vision equipment. Once the helicopters are down, make your way to the cars and get the hell out of here, but stay away from the house.”

“What about you?” John asked, knowing the answer.

“It’s best if you head out now,” Casey ignored the question. “Get that fire going before the reaction force arrives. They will think it has been burning for a while and not think twice about it. I am certain the UFO will not fire on you; they want you too much.”

“Are you going to answer my question?” John persisted.

“No.” Casey faced Turner; his eyes boring into the project leader as if to detect any hint of a lie to the man’s story. “Get them out of here now. I will wake the rest and get them out to you.”

Turner stared at the soldier and wondered how he had gained such loyalty. Could it be the very characteristics that made him an outstanding commander, made him a bad humanitarian? He could sense this was the beginning of the end. The moment he stepped out the door, he was walking away from the life he had led.

“Carol,” Turner looked at the woman, “do what the sergeant says. I will be out in a few minutes.”

The actors hesitated while Parker stared at men he believed responsible for this disaster.

“Trust us,” Turner moved to Carol. “We did not want any of this to happen and we want you to survive, but there are things we must do to hide your identities from pursuit. Get to the ravine and we will be along when the rest of the family is awake.”

“I’ll take them,” Parker walked to the women and took one in each hand and guided them from the room.

John hesitated. He watched Casey as the soldier worked on the still form of Barb. “I don’t have to accept your version of reality.”

Casey touched the gun at his side. “Yes, you do. You fought well tonight. I would have taken you in my unit if you had shown up at my door a few years back, but the fact remains, I will kill you if you stay in this house.” Setting the gun on the floor, Casey looked up at John. “Get out of here and make a new future for yourself.”

Reluctantly, John walked to the kitchen door. It was like he was leaving the soldier to a fate he could avoid if he only tried to escape. “Do it your way.”

The back door slammed shut as John left the house.

“I can’t allow you to stay here.” Turner kneeled at Casey’s side and helped to revive Barb. “I’m the one responsible for this mess.”

“What are you going to do? Stand in the front door and think they will respect your rank?” Casey scoffed.

“If that’s what it takes.”

“You do not have the edge anymore. I do not think you can do what needs to be done.” Casey glanced at Turner. His former officer was no good now. The blood lust was gone. The aliens had washed away the hate essential to the man Turner had once been. Good men needed to salve their conscience or they would do the right thing for the wrong reason. They would die to no effect.

“I’m dying,” Casey admitted gently and seeing hurt in Turner’s eyes, a confirmation his assessment was correct. “I have a few hours left in me, long enough to be certain the government will never come after you.”

The gray face and sincerity in the soldier’s eyes convince Turner. Anyone could see the man was favoring his side and leg, but only a thorough examination would give a reason to force the sergeant to join in flight.

“I want to leave,” a small voice said from the floor.

Turner looked past Casey to see the young woman watching the conversation.

“She’s your responsibility now,” Casey said as he poured water on Barb’s face.

“Damn it,” Turner breathed and bowed his head.

With the sound of the words, Casey knew he had won the test of wills but felt no triumph. He would pick his own way to die, like the Vikings of old.

The thump of rotor blades beat against the windows.

Standing slowly, the weight of the decision heavy on his shoulders, Turner walked to the small camera lying on the floor near Marie. It was such an insignificant part of the night, yet it held the way for all of them to run away from this night and never look back.

As if he were an old man suffering from weak muscles and brittle bones, Turner stooped and grasped the camera, then walked to the front door. He opened the door and pitched the camera away from the house where investigators would find it in the morning, then closed the door as the sound of the helicopters grew louder.

“I need a few more minutes,” Casey said while he motioned for Marie to help Jim sit up.

“Take your time,” Turner replied and walked to the stairs leading to the second floor.

The computer room needed a good cleaning.