Ranger Martin (Book 2): Ranger Martin and the Alien Invasion

by Flacco, Jack

  The six beasts that had earlier retreated, leaped from the flames and stalks of the field, forming a line where earlier the first beast had begun its assault on Ranger. Now, he had no trouble dispatching one of the creatures. That was easy. One shot to the head. But six? Even two could have proven a problem, since the alien creatures ran fast and jumped long.

  What did Ranger do? He played it smart. He smiled, then scampered as fast as he could to the truck. The creatures sprung from their places and chased the zombie killer, thumping dust all the way to him. He slammed against his truck and wrestled with the door until he dove inside. The creatures had a few more feet before they’d have Ranger’s SUV in their clutches. He wasn’t about to let that happen. He saw them coming in the rearview mirror, which in turn prodded him to jostle the keys attached to his lucky rabbit’s foot into the ignition. A crash into the back of the truck shook him from his seat, but not enough to want to cause him to surrender. He flipped the truck into drive and floored the gas. The wheels screamed, blasting dirt into the eyes of the creatures. The truck screeched from the scene leaving the creatures to snivel and snarl at their failed attempt to catch their brother’s killer.

  Perhaps one day, the creatures will have their revenge.

  For now, with the Humvees in the hands of the Resistance, and Ranger having gotten a kick from his latest kill, the time had come to intercept General Grayson in Wichita.

  Chapter 31

  A saucer covered the far reaches of Wichita, Kansas. Unlike the others Ranger had seen when traveling across state lines, this stretched a dozen times wider in circumference. Its lights, brilliant and glowing, filled the gray skies with a show. Had it been under any other circumstance, the event would have mesmerized its audience. Those times where people would smile and gasp in excitement at something new and different had long disappeared. In its place sat despair in the shells of those who once lived.

  Below, from within the city streets, the army had set a perimeter from Harmony Street to Liberation Avenue running east and west, and set another perimeter running north and south from Dedication Avenue to Hope Street. General Grayson commanded the helm of the troop movement, barking orders through his vehicle’s phone. His truck convoy flooded the streets. Reinforcement vehicles from other towns and camps moved within range of the city’s military perimeter. Highway 81, which led into the downtown core, had roadblocks stationed throughout the area. General Grayson ought to know, he had set them up himself. He wanted to ensure Randy would make it to his destination without interference from anyone to the contrary.

  The saucer hovered over the sky casting a large shadow over the buildings. A clean and pure smell wafted in the air from the ship, perhaps from the craft’s method to remain in position with little movement. Under the belly of the ship, rows of cigar-like nodules protruded from the surface, shining its beams of yellow lights. The same nodules also covered the top of the saucers. Looking at them for the first time, someone wouldn’t have known the difference between the top and bottom.

  As the general’s convoy traveled south on Highway 81, approaching the city, Ranger had plans of his own. He would continue on Highway 96, then travel south on I-235 where he would finally connect to Highway 400 into Wichita. He thought the military would monitor traffic coming from north of the city, but they wouldn’t think he’d appear from the opposite direction.

  “Ranger.” Matty said, sitting in the passenger seat of the truck while Jon sat behind her.

  With a nod, Ranger wondered what Matty had on her mind.

  “You don’t really think we’ll get out of there alive. Do you?”

  He didn’t move, but kept his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road.

  “If you think that, then we’re in more trouble than we’ve ever been.”

  “C’mon sis,” Jon popped his head over Matty’s shoulder from the backseat, “Give Ranger a break. He has a lot on his mind.”

  “I will when he’s honest with us.”

  “When have I ever been dishonest with you?” Ranger said the words, then smiled.

  “Just admit we’re heading to our funeral.”

  “Listen, Matty. Why don’t you think about things that other girls think about? You know, flowers, rainbows, Randy—”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Matty’s neck began to feel hot and her eyes almost shot from their sockets.

  “Why do y’all have to ask questions I have no clue how to answer? I’m sure there’s a reason for it.” Ranger continued, “Jon, what did you call it when a person gets focused on one thing and keeps repeatin’ it expectin’ a different result?”

  “Insanity?”

  “No. The other thing.”

  Jon’s eyes widened as Ranger glanced over his shoulder waiting for an answer. Jon shook his head several times not wanting to repeat it. He didn’t want Matty to know.

  “C’mon, what was that thing, called?”

  Jon fell into his seat, smacking the back with a thump.

  “Yeah, Jon.” Matty turned to her little brother. “What was that called?”

  With a big gulp, Jon sunk in place not wanting to answer the question.

  Ranger didn’t surrender, “I think you said O-C—”

  “OCD?” Matty screamed. “You called me OCD?”

  “I’m sure he meant it in a kind way.”

  “How do you figure telling someone they have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder as kind?”

  Ranger’s partial smile returned. His muscles in his stomach loosened and a warm feeling came over him. He wanted to laugh, but he kept it from bubbling to the top.

  * * *

  Colonel Hendricks raced his jeep east into Wichita from Highway 400, keeping his foot planted firmly on the floor. Billy sat in the back while David had the passenger seat. The clouds churned and rumbled, but no rain had yet appeared. The wind grew stronger shaking the golden, red and orange leaves from their branches, but they remained intact, not ready to cover the highway with dressing.

  A caravan of military vehicles poached from an abandoned fueling depot followed the colonel. On his orders, Resistance fighters from all over the country converged on the small city to follow Hendricks as a last desperate attempt to infiltrate the alien stronghold.

  As crazy as the plan sounded, Colonel Hendricks and the boys would head to Beech Factory Airport, and Ranger would intercept General Grayson before he turned over Randy to the aliens. Once there, Hendricks would need to access the tower transmitters to post a message to the alien ship. Having had descrambled communications between saucers over a period of months, the Resistance decrypted and reassembled messages to the point where they could send orders to ships. The tricky part? Posting the message to ensure the craft would meet them at the airport.

  Even the colonel had a problem with calling it an operation. When David had asked him what he thought, Hendricks answered with a smug face, “We’re gonna get our asses kicked.”

  * * *

  Inside Wichita’s downtown core, Emissary Rodan arrived in a black SUV with a number of government suits flanking him. When soldiers opened the door for him, he hopped from the backseat with his four arms in motion, patting his clothing free from wrinkles. As everyone hustled into the building, he paused on the sidewalk taking in the sight of the Epic Center, a once-populated business hub. His attention fell on the reflection of the dark clouds on the building’s glass.

  “Emissary.” The soldier said, holding the door open to the building. “They are waiting for you.”

  Rodan slipped through the door, walked the wide hall and entered the elevator where Secretary Emerton’s entourage waited. When the doors closed, the suits backed away from the Emissary as if they had never stood next to him before. Emerton was behind Rodan with one thought: General Grayson had a point when he asked what rat hole the alien had crawled from, since he couldn’t see the human race bowing to their kind. Yet, in all of it, he still aided the aliens in the takeover of his world, prompting Emerton’s stomach to ti
ghten with the sick, guilty realization of his betrayal. Droplets of sweat curled from his brow as he thought of it, and it caused him to hold his stomach with both hands. He closed his eyes unable to stare at the ugly beast any longer.

  As soon as the elevator doors opened at the top floor, the soldiers in the other elevator had already left. They led the way to another long hallway where they burst through a set of doors, and climbed a set of stairs to the roof. The sign at the bottom of the stairs warned of the lack of fencing due to construction. Those brave enough to venture on their own would have to use caution, since nothing would prevent them from toppling to the ground below.

  At the top of the Epic Center roof, the soldiers held the doors and helped Secretary Emerton and Emissary Rodan from the stairs. The ship hovered over the skyscraper casting a long shadow. The nodules under the ship’s belly glowed on and off as the soldiers stared at them from below. They stood gawking at the massive ship that spanned as far as they could see. They’ve never seen anything like it, nor will they ever. The wind on the roof brought shivers to some of the government officials prompting one of them to lift the collar of his suit jacket to cover his neck.

  “Emissary,” Emerton said, “Your greeting party should arrive soon.”

  “Where is General Grayson?”

  “He said he would meet us here once the ship had arrived.”

  “Secretary Emerton,” The alien turned to him, “The ship has arrived. Contact the general and ask him to expedite his travel.”

  Emerton clenched his jaw and walked away from Rodan. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed. His face said it all, “The general better pick up his phone.”

  * * *

  Soon after General Grayson arrived in the city, his phone rang. He answered with full knowledge the aliens wanted their prize—Randy. Emerton told the general they had made it to the top of the Epic Center and were awaiting his arrival. Before he could answer and say anything to him, the convoy stopped at the sight unfolding ahead of them. The general’s phone dropped from his ear as he walked outside on the highway leading to the rendezvous point. His face turned white, his knees buckled and the sudden urge to forget about the promised island in the Caribbean took over.

  The sight of the alien craft left him and his men with their mouths hanging. Randy remained in the general’s truck with his hands tied. He, too, couldn’t keep from staring at how massive the ship sat in the sky without anything holding it in place. He recognized how different it looked, hovering, and flatter than the other ships he had seen.

  The general gave the order for the men to get back in the trucks. No sooner had he stepped into the vehicle, the road ahead began flowing with the bodies of the undead. They came from the alleys, poured from the buildings and dropped from the windows into the streets. Their noses rose into the air, and the smell of fresh meat entered their nostrils to entice them to move forward to the parked trucks.

  Without thought of the ramifications, the soldiers opened fire on the crowd. Bullets whizzed past the heads of the horde’s frontline to slam into the ones behind, taking out a whole section in small green explosions covering those behind. Another wave of bullets pierced the frontline, dropping the eaters who had dragged their feet toward the truck. Spent shells dropped on the asphalt while the soldier’s muzzles smoldered from the gunfire.

  The general whipped out his service revolver and began firing through his passenger windows in the midst of the crowd. The zombies who had made it as far as his truck never even had a chance to lay a hand on the vehicle. General Grayson unleased another blast into the putrid, rotting head of the undead. The general barked orders for the soldiers to get back in the vehicles, yet the soldiers couldn’t hear him due to the heavy gunfire.

  In the backseat, Randy sat with his hands tied, and his fingers extended plugging his ears. He needed to get out of there. He couldn’t stay there. Either he’d die at the hands of the zombies or he’d die at the paws of the aliens. He didn’t know which was worse. With his fingers plugging his ears, he dropped his face into his lap.

  Chapter 32

  He pulled his SUV from Highway 400 and traveled north on N Seneca Street. Once Ranger reached the first main intersection, he turned right, then followed the road until it took him to the bridge crossing the Arkansas River. There, he stopped the truck and walked out. Something had captured his attention to deviate from his goal of getting to the Epic Center.

  Noticing Ranger’s preoccupation, Matty and Jon joined him on a stroll across the bridge to the north side. They didn’t understand what could have possibly overtaken his interest, but they followed him nonetheless.

  Ranger placed his elbows on the rail overlooking the river. Taking a whiff of the water, as it flowed under the bridge, the rich smell of the algae carried his mind away. To his left, he caught the sight of the baseball field and remembered how as a kid he felt invincible when catching pop flies while attending Sunday afternoon games. How he could still feel the blades from when he used to run his fingers through the grass. How he could smell the fresh cut field and how it made him recall his happy childhood.

  Not wanting to interfere with Ranger’s trance, the kids slunk next to him. Like Ranger, Matty rested her elbows on the rail while Jon placed his feet on the bottom and used his hands to peek over the edge. They could see the draw the river had on Ranger’s imagination. It flowed quietly and it produced a calming sound. Matty stared at the traveling water. White foam accumulated on its banks. A smile grew on her face, but she kept it in check not wanting to forget why they came to Wichita in the first place.

  Lost in his thoughts about the days he’d spent on a farm, a few minutes passed before Ranger spoke a word, “Years ago, my momma would come out from the house, walk across the wheat field into the woods and sit on a rock by the river that ran through our property. She’d roll her dress to her thigh, dip her feet and play with the water. She did that a lot. I guess I didn’t know better ‘cause all I’d wanted to do was catch frogs and let ’em go in the river. I saw her one day, sittin’ there. I didn’t know what she was thinkin’ ‘bout. I’d supposed she was restin’. But that ain’t it.”

  “What was she thinking about, Ranger?” Jon asked.

  “Now that I’m older, I’m beginnin’ to realize all she wanted was to be left alone so she could think in peace.”

  “C’mon, Jon.” Matty clutched Jon’s hand and turned from Ranger to leave. She didn’t need him to ask to understand he needed the time away for a few minutes so he could be with his thoughts.

  “Don’t go.” Ranger said, not breaking from his gaze.

  Scratching her temple, she let go of Jon and went back to the very same spot hanging her arms over the rail next to Ranger.

  “You know what I want out of life?” He asked them.

  The kids shared a glance with one another and shrugged their shoulders.

  He didn’t wait for an answer, “I want these streets filled with people again. Happy people. People goin’ to the store. People eatin’ out. People takin’ their families to ballgames. I want to hear the sound of chatter in the malls, the sound of kids playin’ in the park, the sound of people arguin’ ‘cause the price of a soda’s too high or ‘cause the guy walkin’ across the street gets cut off and gets into an argument with the driver in the car. I want to smell the aroma of fresh baked bread from a bakery, popcorn in the theater and grease in a diner.” He turned to the kids and continued, “I want to have that turkey cookin’ in the oven on Thanksgiving, with all the trimmin’s. Mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce. I miss all that. I miss Black Friday sales and hearin’ how the people got a deal on a television because they were smart enough to wake up at one in the mornin’ to stand in line before a store opened. I miss Christmas, the carolers, the music in the malls, the Christmas Eve dinner, openin’ my gifts and findin’ I don’t need anything but it was worth every minute to see the givers face. I miss all of that.”

  Without saying a word, Matty patted Ranger’
s arm to comfort him. He had said everything she had thought about for a long time, but didn’t feel comfortable admitting, since the thought would have made her sound like an idiot. Although, after thinking about it, she didn’t think he sounded like an idiot.

  When Ranger had finished his speech, he peered over Matty’s shoulder to the end of the bridge. His face had turned pale. He stood frozen as if he’d seen death. “Run to the truck.”

  “Why?” Matty asked, then, together with Jon, spun around to watch in horror at what Ranger had meant.

  At the opposite end of the bridge, a hundred and fifty feet away, a crowd of fifty to sixty undead, broken bones, festering at the mouth stood ready to pounce on Ranger and the kids. They had appeared without a sound and blocked the way to where Ranger needed to go. Water escaped their mouth as the fantasy of tasting human again piqued their interest. They sprung from their position and screamed toward their prey.

  Ranger, Matty and Jon pressed from the rail and sprinted to the truck. Their feet kicked from the road as fast and as hard as they could. Halfway, Jon’s small legs couldn’t keep pace with his sister and his hero. Ranger went back, bent and wrapped his arm around Jon’s waist, lifted him from his legs and carried him the rest of the way.

  The undead horde dragged, sprinted and pushed. They hit guardrails. They screeched. They even fell in the center while their brothers and sisters crushed them in a stampede toward the truck. Most if not all of the zombies had their rotting claws extended forward with the anticipation of snatching their meal sooner.

  With thirty feet between them and the undead, Ranger and the kids dove into the truck, slamming the doors behind. When Ranger reached for the keys in his jacket pocket, he gulped.

  “What are you waiting for?” Matty’s face turned anxious.

  “I can’t find the keys.” Ranger snarled, patting his jacket and pants.

  “What the hell do you mean you can’t find the keys?”