Grey studies for a moment before replying, “Mm… maybe… if they weren’t holding formation.”
“Come again?” urges Fisher.
Grey hands the binoculars back, saying, “THAT, Corporal, is a formation.”
Before Fisher can confirm or deny, the objects divert, losing ionization as they quickly race downwards upon the city. They seemingly streak down in a blur of blood-red metal.
All nightmares of the last week are confirmed though, when the objects suddenly bank into a sharp plateau, leveling out in a holding pattern directly over the city buildings.
The entire platoon is aware of the entities. They all watch in astonishment as the strange vessels hover over the city. They aren’t abundantly large; possibly about the size of a navy destroyer. But, troop landing craft are best fast and agile if possible.
Doors on the strange-looking craft open, and specks rain from the sides toward the ground. Simultaneously, the trance-shattering event occurs; a flash from something beneath one of the craft sends a blue bolt to the ground. A violent and fiery explosion follows. Within seconds, the world falls apart.
The first blasts reach the marines as a continuous storm of fire pours from the undersides of the crafts. Smaller red flashes follow in greater numbers. And yet, the stunned silence holds the platoon of marines.
Lieutenant Colonel Hitch can be heard muttering, “Th-this can’t be…”
Chief Master Sergeant Clements, a veteran of many middle-eastern conflicts, shouts, “Colonel!”
Hitch shudders back to life, glancing at the senior enlisted man with a deer in the headlights glance. Clements barks, “Recommend counterattack!”
The Lt. Col. Stares at him, blinking twice. Hancock doesn’t want to think about the wavering pitch of noise that could easily be attributed to mass screams of terror, mixed into the distant chaos.
Hitch stammers softly, “I… I…”
Lieutenant Hornady, similarly a combat veteran and a prior enlisted, bellows at the top of his lungs, “LAUNCH COUNTERATTACK MARINES! THOSE ARE AMERICANS! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!? GO! GO! GO!”
Hancock follows the voice he is meant to follow; Sergeant Grey calls out, “Romeo! With me! Let’s move!”
The city perimeter is about two miles down a hill, and the marines pile instinctively into transport trucks. They’ve drilled this exercise many times.
As the trucks race closer down the highways, Hancock is certain of what the scream-like sound is. It will haunt him for the rest of his life. It is exactly what it sounded like.
Marines pour into the city via trucks, avoiding fleeing civilians and abandoned or occupied vehicles in gridlock. When the trucks can go no further, the infantrymen pour out, storming the opposite direction of the civilians fleeing past them. The blasts from the alien weapons pierce the air shrilly, tingling Hancock to his bones.
Sergeant Grey leads the squad down an alleyway to avoid pedestrians. But, he suddenly stops. He whispers sharply, “We’re all we got, Marines. We know how this ends. Who’s in the city?”
Dumas replies, “What are you talking…?”
“Your FAMILIES,” hisses the sergeant. “Tanya’s at the gates. Who do you have that we can save?”
The marines grimly look at each other. Dumas shakes his head, “No one, Sarge.”
Fredericks adds softly, “No one, Sarge.” Fisher whispers, “My husband’s a marine, Sarge. Third Platoon.”
Grey nods. He looks at Hancock, “Rookie?”
Hancock stares at him dumbly. Grey urges, “We’re either killing aliens and dying cannon fodder, or we save people we care about. You’re the only one Rookie.”
Hancock is still speechless. What a horrifying choice. None of his family even lives in this state. How is he supposed to answer?
Fisher says gruffly and confidently, “The waitress.”
Sergeant Grey looks, and then he locks eyes with Hancock. He asks seriously, “C’mon Rookie. Answer me. Anyone else?”
Hancock finally mutters, “No… sir…”
Grey sighs and nods. “Tell me you felt a spark, Rookie. Tell me, and we all have a purpose out here today.”
Hancock responds by finally adjusting his gaze to match. Grey pats his shoulder assuringly, saying unusually gently, “We can’t afford to lose everything, Rookie. We’re marines, not gods. We fight for the few, and together, we fight for all.”
The other three cheer softly, “Hoorah.”
Hancock swallows hard. He summons the courage to nod. Grey nods in reply, “Good. Fredericks, lead the way.”
“On it, Sarge.” Fredericks takes the lead, and the marines make haste to follow. They alertly stalk down the alleyways.
Their first encounter isn’t the first of humanity, but it’s far from peaceful. Fredericks peeks around a building corner up the street and quickly recoils. A spray of red and blue bolts storms from left to right. Only a fraction of a second delays before screams and gunfire return from right to left.
Fredericks calls over the hailstorm passing by, “We can make it if we sprint across!”
Dumas replies, “What about the others!?”
Fredericks shakes his head. “You don’t want to see. You wanna survive, we have to get across.”
“You heard him,” growls Grey. “We have our mission. One at a time, we cross full speed. Head down and run!”
He shoves Fisher out of the way and Sergeant Grey takes a deep breath. He sprints in a low run, firing up the street as he sprints to the other alley across the street. Bolts of fire splash the ground, clearly aimed at the sergeant. He calls via radio, “Rookie, you’re next!”
Fisher and Dumas urge Hancock, “Get across to the alley, Rookie.”
Fredericks urges sternly, “Do NOT look up the street, Rookie! You’ll freeze! Run and fire blind if you want to fire!”
Hancock nods.
Time seems to slow to a painful eternity. His heart races and pounds in his ears. He can see every bolt flashing by and every golden streak returning, forming an impenetrable wall. Sergeant Grey seems to be screaming for him to cross, waving him forward.
Hancock’s legs wobble. He tries to run, but it feels like he’s falling continuously forward.
Suddenly, the sun seems to be blotted out to Hancock’s left. He instinctively looks.
A massive form towers over him. It stands upright, bipedal like a human, but with massive legs as long as Hancock is tall, and as big around as his chest, armored in heavy metal plates. Its legs curve awkwardly, though, like a dog that stands upright. However, its hulking form has a fairly impeccable posture. Its bulky arms are also armored, and its head is obscured in a broad, angular helmet.
A deep, menacing sound comes from the humongous creature, sounding like a chuckle. This becomes even more likely when it casually levels its strange weapon with the rookie marine. His heart seems to pound in one continuous, tight movement, like it’s trying to squeeze every last drop of blood out of itself to every corner of his body.
The flash doesn’t come from the alien weapon. It comes from a round object arriving from ahead of Hancock to the spot next to the alien’s left shoulder. It explodes violently, pelting shrapnel across Hancock’s terrified face as the alien stumbles.
In an astonishing display, a shotgun blast explodes from next to the alien’s shoulder, slamming its helmet as rifle rounds ping and pelt the impressive armor. The alien bellows in surprise, but quickly rights itself. Still, the Sergeant is upon Hancock, firing another blast with his shotgun before pumping another round in and grabbing Hancock’s collar with his left hand.
The alien towers over both of them, grumbling something in its own unintelligible language that seems almost like a taunt.
In spite of the hailstorm of firebolts raining around them, though, three more marines charge straight into the fray as Sergeant Grey fires again, dragging Hancock by the collar.
Fisher launches himself onto the alien’s weapon arm, throwing off its aim as Dumas tries to tackle its waist. The hulking alien stumbles again, but it stays on its feet.
Fredericks holds just out of arm’s reach, firing into the alien’s torso in controlled bursts. Their weapons seem ineffective against the alien armor, though.
The hulk pivots violently, launching Fisher from its arm past Grey and Hancock. Fisher smashes through a storefront window, startling screams out of civilians undoubtedly hiding there.
Dumas abandons his attack, swiftly darting around the alien’s back as he fires at it. Fredericks releases his spent magazine to reload, but the alien lunges one big step and takes hold of the rifle. Thinking blindingly quickly, Fredericks manages to contort himself to save his life. The alien weapon flashes, narrowly missing the marine, but vaporizing the tether binding him to his rifle.
Fredericks doesn’t hesitate, quickly ripping a grenade off of his belt and pulling the pin. He tosses it over his shoulder as he darts toward the alleyway with Dumas firing over his head.
Meanwhile, Sergeant Grey has forced the store’s side door open, shouting, “Run! Fisher!”
“Moving!” barks the dazed marine. He also barks, “Run! Run people!”
Fredericks’s grenade explodes, dazing the huge alien again and buying the fractions of moments needed for marines up the street to open fire again; this time with heavy machine guns. The alien’s attention turns back to those marines as the heavy weapon fire finally seems to be at least registering to it. However, the alien is taking fire from two distinct weapons, at least, and manages to keep fighting. It jogs back to regroup with its allies.
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Grey pulls Hancock, following the panicked civilians as they flee.
Once it’s momentarily safe, Hancock pants, “S-Sir, I’m… I’m so so-…”
Grey pounds his chest hard, causing the rookie to cough. The sergeant shouts, “Not now! It was coming anyways! Focus up!” He then barks, “Fredericks!”
“This way,” calls Fredericks, leading the marines ahead. Grey stays alongside Hancock, urging, “Rookie, you HAVE to find your courage. We’re all scared here. Courage is just the faith in what follows your trigger finger. That’s all we got.”
Hancock sniffles as tears uncontrollably flow down his cheeks. He nods, “S-Sir, yes sir.”
“‘Atta boy.”
The marines work their way deeper into the city, avoiding the countless aliens where they can. Most people are being gunned down, but some, mainly children so far as they’ve seen, are being taken.
Hancock can’t wrap his head around what’s currently happening, though. There’s no way he can formulate ideas as to why children are being kidnapped.
The squad reaches the plaza where the sports bar is. It’s their only hope of finding Kenzie. Hancock realizes it was just Grey trying to distract the squad on a MacGuffin chase rather than going toe to toe with the aliens. The marines fighting in formation aren’t faring well at all, and they’ve seen more than one marine with no weapons hiding or fleeing with civilians. Not to mention the corridors of death; streets riddled with the bodies of charred and fallen marines and civilians alike. Even tanks are being quickly melted through and incapacitated by the alien weapons.
The squad approaches the sports bar. The aliens seem to be focusing on anyone fleeing for now, ignoring the many buildings. Hancock has yet to see a fallen invader –even a single one- in exchange for the hundreds or thousands of humans he’s already seen.
The marines enter the sports bar, which is charred and obscured by smoke. Grey orders quietly, “Caution, marines. Easy on those triggers.”
However, the smell of burnt hair and flesh is amplified by the sight of the bodies littering the restaurant. It appears they were discovered.
Fisher and Dumas investigate several of the bodies. They were definitely killed by alien weapons, but at least one person seems to have been cleft by some kind of molten blade.
Fredericks monitors the outside as the squad searches. Grey says quietly, “I’m sorry, Rookie…”
Hancock says nothing. He didn’t know Kenzie that well. But, the end of the world seems to amplify even a tiny spark.
A tiny scuff draws Hancock’s attention, and he snaps his aim in that direction. His rifle quivers from terrified shivering. He whispers, “S-Sir… I heard something…”
Grey says sternly, “Contact left. Identify.”
All five marines aim, and a young female voice cries, “W-Wait! H-Human! W-we’re human!”
Grey says more gently, “First Platoon, Romeo Squad, U.S. Marine Corps. It’s safe for now. Come on out.” He gestures for the marines to resume defensive posture. Fredericks returns to the door as Fisher and Dumas lower their weapons.
Hancock’s not a praying man. He doesn’t fantasize of destiny guiding his way, or that he’s in God’s favor. But, in the two hours of hell it took to get there, he never thought relief could feel the way it does.
The young woman that slowly walks out into the open cautiously is wearing a waitress outfit for the sports bar. She has honey blonde hair, and even though he can’t see them just yet, Hancock knows her eyes are stunningly green. She likes anime, B-monster movies, and all things science fiction. She’s working toward a college degree in digital art animation and writes manga as a hobby. And, her name is Kenzie.
Hancock almost drops his weapon as he blurts out in disbelief, “Kenzie…?”
She looks at him in shock. She chokes, “R-Rex?”
She cautiously approaches, and Hancock notices the much smaller person accompanying her. Grey asks, “Who’s the kid?”
The girl is terrified and covered in blood with clean trails down her cheeks from continuous tears. She clutches firmly to Kenzie’s arm, staring blankly at nothing in particular.
Kenzie replies, still staring at Rex, who is dumbfounded, “She hasn’t spoken yet. I found her out back when we were first trying to flee. The… They found us. She and I hid… under bodies in the street… We pretended…” She looks down, tears forming in her own eyes.
Sergeant Grey says gently, “You saved both of your lives. Good thinking.”
She nods solemnly. Fisher, undoubtedly trying to lighten the mood, says bluntly, “The Rookie realized he’s never been kissed, so he held us at gunpoint until we agreed to come get you.”
Kenzie chokes, looking once more at Hancock. Hancock finally stammers, “K-Kenzie, I… I don’t… I wanted… If…”
She grabs his collar, pulling him into a kiss. When she relaxes, she murmurs tenderly, “I’ve… never had anyone care SO much about me…”
Hancock relaxes a little. She then asks nervously, “But… What’s going on?” She looks at Grey this time.
Grey says sourly, “G-sink is loading up their buddies and fleeing Earth.” Her jaw drops, and he adds, “Yep. And, we’re getting on one of those ships.”
“We are?” asks Dumas, surprised.
Grey scoffs, “You kidding? Of course. Fort Tack is inaccessible to the fat cats. And, by my count, there’s a lot of damn space left. If I have to fly a Swan myself, Tanya and I ain’t getting mercked by some friggin’ alien.”
Dumas, slightly surprised, asks, “Then… Why’d we…?”
Grey growls defensively, “I’m not a coward, marine. But, I refuse to die for no reason. In about two hours, command is going to sound retreat; when the last elitists are on the starliners. And, we’re gonna be at the gates for our turn.”
Fredericks asks from the door, “What if…?”
“Stow that talk, marine. This is the end of the world and WE have the guns. We’re getting on those ships.”
There’s a pause, but the marines all nod.
Kenzie whispers as she clutches to the little girl’s hands, “This… is really it… isn’t it? They’re… They’re all gone…”
Hancock says gently, “K-Kenzie… I’m so sorry.”
Her eyes water, but the young woman whimpers, “I… I want to live… W-Will… Will it work?” She looks pleadingly at Sergeant Grey. He smirks and says to Hancock, “Tell her, Rookie.”
She looks at Hancock, and he does his best to smile. He replies, “Count on it.”
She manages a smile with a sniffle. Grey kneels down to the girl’s level, and her eyes lock with his. The sergeant says gruffly, “You’re a tough bird too, huh?”
She stares at him blankly. He says gently, “I need your help, Little Bird. I need you to become a marine, okay? Can you do that for me?” He takes his uniform cap out of his pocket and unfurls it. He places it on the little girl’s head, adding, “There. I hereby –uh-… Knight you ‘Official marine’, bravest warriors in the universe. And, marines protect each other, okay? I protect you, you protect me. We protect the Rookie, here.”
The little girl’s eyes finally water and waver, and she nods. Grey cheers, “That’s my marine. Alright, marine. You ready to beat these alien turds and get outta here?” She nods. Just as he’s about to stand, the girl suddenly throws her arms around his neck. She bursts into uncontrollable sobs, wailing in agony as she clutches the senior marine.
Hancock watches Grey register it a moment. He then smiles, cooing gently, “That’s it, marine. Marines communicate. I wish I had more marines like you.”
The girl hugs him fiercely, and he stands up, saying to Kenzie, “Stick close to Hancock or any of us. We stop, you stop. We go, you go. If we get in a fight, you take Little Bird here and r-uh… Find a tactical marine location.” He winks at the young woman, and she nods understandingly.
Grey says calmly, “Fredericks, get us back to base.”
“Sir, yes sir,” says Fredericks calmly.
The marines move out, cautiously navigating the alleyways and avoiding alien patrols. They’ve begun sweeping buildings. Hancock also suspects the aliens corralled a bulk of the city population using their ships and driving the panicked, fleeing balls of instincts and fear into the center, where the alien soldiers are waiting.
The small squad is much more cautious about encounters with the bulky aliens. Their armor seems impervious to the human weapons.
However, ‘seems’ proves fortunate and correct. The marines happen across the body of one of the bulky aliens, laying right where it fell against a wall. As the marines investigate, though, Hancock’s acute attentiveness kicks back in. The alien collapsed sitting against a concrete wall, and about ten feet above it, there is a crater in the wall where something immensely heavy slammed against it; like the body of an 8 foot tall alien soldier.
Sergeant Grey keeps his shotgun trained on the alien’s head as he stalks closer. Fisher and Dumas watch the street. Kenzie whispers, “They’re… What are they?”
‘Little Bird’, as she’s known for now, whimpers as she looks away in Grey’s arm. Grey asks cautiously, “Dumas, how much do you think those bugs weigh?”
Dumas replies, “250 kilos, easy. Felt like tackling an SUV.”
Grey looks up at the high crater in the wall. He then says, “Fredericks, you mind?”
The lance corporal jogs forward, cautiously approaching the alien to inspect it. He gingerly touches its neck, applying more and more pressure to actually feel for a pulse. He whispers, “I sure hope it’s dead, because I don’t feel anythi-OW!” Fredericks recoils in surprise, scrambling back on his backside as all four other marines aim at the alien. Fredericks yelps, “It... It shocked me!”
There’s a pause, and Kenzie asks, “Do… Do you hear that whine?” The marines listen and shake their heads. She says, “It just disappeared! Wait-… It’s… It’s back.” She looks confused at Hancock and Grey.
Little Bird murmurs, “I hear it…”
“Defibrillator?” asks Fisher curiously.
Grey replies, “Sounds like it. But in their armor?”
Fredericks replies, “That’s its skin, Sarge. Has sweat and everything on it. Reptilian, but a light peach fuzz.”
Grey remarks sarcastically, “Fuzzy crocodiles, huh? Fine. But if its skin is exposed, why the heck are they so hard to kill?”
Before anyone can answer, Little Bird screams. Fisher whirls back up the street, yelling, “CONTACT LEFT!”
The hulking alien bellows its own words. Fisher and Dumas open fire as Grey orders loudly, “Alleyway!” He whisks Little Bird into the alley, closely followed by Hancock, Kenzie, and Fredericks. Fredericks covers from the corner as the alien weapon casts firebolts back, narrowly missing the two marines falling back.
It’s not narrow enough, though. One of the blasts hits Dumas’s left shoulder, whirling him as his shoulder is viciously and instantly blistered from the impact. Fisher instinctively catches him, and Dumas yells in agony. The two more directly flee into the alley.
Fisher shouts, “It’s pissed, Sarge!”
“MOVE!” The sergeant leads down the alleyway, sprinting for the next street. The alien bellows a vociferous taunt at them, and they quickly duck around the corners into the street. More of the hellish blasts race narrowly by.
Grey shouts, “Which way!?”
Fredericks nods, “Up that way!”
“Lead!” The marines sprint after Fredericks as he weaves through destroyed vehicles.
A new nightmare slides into view ahead. One of the huge alien dropships looms up the street. They don’t have to wait long to find out if it spotted them. Its under-bow turret turns, and a blue firebolt zips directly in front of Fredericks, Dumas, and Fisher, scattering them like ragdolls with a destructive wave. Grey flinches as he stumbles to a stop, instinctively shielding Little Bird as the girl sobs and screams. Kenzie and Hancock huddle together, and they all start to bolt back the way they came to find cover.
The way they came provides no respite. The alien squeezes out of the alleyway, easily spotting them. Grey thinks fast, “There!” He gestures at a restaurant; the windows of which have already been blown out.
They flee together, but Sergeant Grey suddenly screams out in agony. He falls, and the girl cries as she and he slam into the ground. The sergeant keeps his senses, though, yelling quickly, “Rookie! The girl!”
Hancock’s heart pounds once more in terror, but he is able to cling to the core of his being.
He is a marine.
He was given an order.
The order may not have been spoken overtly, but Hancock can cling to it. He doubles back, staying low behind vehicles so the alien soldier can’t see him. The dropship seems to be holding fire with a friendly down-range. That’s good.
Hancock grasps the girl, but then Kenzie screams. She scrambles out of the restaurant as a second alien chuckles in its deep, throaty way. It stalks into view, holding what appears to be little more than a big tuning fork, rather than one of the big alien rifles.
A musical tool, however, it is not. The prongs begin to glow cherry-red, and a purple electrical arc crackles between them. This tiny arc doesn’t stay small, though. It extends out, forming a long, tight, leaf-shaped loop from prong to prong. The crisp, stable loop of energy formed by the weapon wavers a little, similar to a continuous lightning bolt, but it reminds Hancock of… a blade.
The young marine realizes at once what weapon caused the second type of injuries the marines witnessed in the sports bar. Hancock holds his ground, shakily swinging his rifle between the two extraterrestrial soldiers. The first alien chuckles, placing its ranged weapon on its back and drawing a similar tuning-fork sword.
Sergeant Grey grunts as he manages to roll over. He thumbs shotgun shells into the weapon, readying for a final –if futile- stand. Kenzie sinks to her knees with the girl holding her tightly. They both cry helplessly. Hancock shakes uncontrollably. The aliens can be killed, but how?
Sergeant Grey says, slightly muffled from the unlit cigar in his mouth, “Remind me… to take Dumas’ torch next time.”
The two aliens chuckle menacingly as they stand over the frail humans clinging together. Grey starts to taunt, “You fuzz-crocs want my cold hard twelve? Well come…”
A new noise cuts off the sergeant who had resigned himself to a warrior’s death. This sound is strange; familiar and yet, alien. And, it draws the attention of the two invaders in startled unison.
It is a scream; a wail of agonized death throes as a soul leaves its body.
But, that soul is not a human soul.
***