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

by Flacco, Jack

  “I can’t find the keys, all right?”

  “Ranger.” Jon pointed outside the backseat window. “Are those your keys?”

  The zombie slayer shot a glance to the middle of the bridge and there, on the asphalt, he recognized the keys attached to his lucky rabbit’s foot. He must have dropped them when he’d bent to help Jon on their way to the truck. He couldn’t leave the keys there. He needed them to get out. What was he supposed to do? In a matter of seconds, the horde would surround the vehicle. He couldn’t let the keys rest without doing anything. He opened wide the driver side door.

  “Where are you going?” Matty’s veins in her neck grew twice the size as she frantically grabbed Ranger’s shoulder, almost tearing it from its socket.

  “Let go of me. Do you want to die here, now? I’ve got to get those keys.”

  * * *

  Hearing the gunshots flying back and forth from either side of the jeep, the whizzing of bullets slamming into dead tissue, the shells ejecting on the pavement, the pounding of zombie bodies collapsing as they hit the front of the vehicle, Randy pulled hard on the handle to the backseat passenger door and dashed outside into the mayhem.

  Between shots, General Grayson jerked his head to witness Randy’s escape. “You little bastard, get back here!”

  But with his hands tied in the front, Randy scooted past three chewers, smashed them in the face with his fists and kicked his way to the sidewalk. He would have gone further, perhaps into a building and lose himself among the passageways, but Grayson had hopped from the vehicle in time to snatch the teen by the scruff of the neck.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I was on my way to the bathroom.” Randy said.

  “I bet you were.” The General said, firing another round into a zombie too eager not to have waited for dinner.

  Kicking his feet and tossing about, Randy tried to free himself from the general’s grip, but no use, Grayson had him good and tight.

  “You keep squirming that way, I’ll deliver you in pieces. Do you understand me?” Grayson shook the boy in his place.

  The kicking stopped. Randy’s shoulders slumped.

  “Everyone in the vehicles!” General Grayson barked between shots splattering undead brain matter through the air. “That’s an order!”

  This time the soldiers listened and dashed to their trucks in the convoy. The order came too late. Before they knew it, a crowd of zombies dove on the soldiers, sinking their teeth into the military’s neck. One by one, the crowd tore apart the squad. The bullets couldn’t stop three and four of the undead from attacking one human. Too many had appeared and a squad of soldiers became a handful.

  General Grayson dragged Randy across the street and threw him in the back of the jeep in a huff. One determined eater caught the general by the arm and drove its teeth into his back. The general’s vest prevented any damage, which gave him enough time to swing around, grab the zombie by the shoulders and smash its head with his own. The head butt cracked the zombie’s skull, but it didn’t stop it from coming after him, in spite of the green ooze trailing from the wound. It didn’t discourage the general either. Planting his firearm firmly against the chewer’s head while holding it with the other hand, he squeezed the trigger to release a blast so powerful that half the zombie’s brain had flown from its head into the distance. It collapsed without a fight, giving Grayson enough time to dive into his truck, crank the engine and plow the gang of chewers with the front of his jeep.

  Raising his head from the backseat, Randy couldn’t help but think how too many zombies in the street made for a bad exit plan. They would never get out of there alive, he thought. All because of one soldier’s quick, trigger finger. Had they left when they had the chance, they could have plowed the crowd before it had turned ugly. They stood at the edge of death. He couldn’t possibly think of a way they’d escape with so many soldiers dead and so little time before another set of teeth attempted to take a bite out of him.

  * * *

  With twenty feet between the zombie horde on the bridge and the keys to the truck Ranger had dropped when carrying Jon to safety, the zombie slayer nudged Matty’s hand from his shoulder and leaped for the keys. As he sprinted, he kept his stare fixed on the crowd making their way toward him. He had one chance to get there and it would be tight. If he had waited too long, he wouldn’t have made it. The keys in sight, he quickly snatched them from the middle of the bridge and dashed back to the truck. What Ranger hadn’t counted on, though, was dropping them again and wasting even more time. He dashed back to retrieve them, but by that time the first of the undead gang had him within reach. The problem now was not getting the keys, which he had done, holding on to them with dear life, but what to do with the mass of zombies coming at him with arms outstretched.

  If Matty had a say, she’d kill them all. She did the next best thing. She pulled her gun, opened the passenger door, stood on the ledge and fired with her arms over the roof of the truck. The zombies lunging for Ranger dropped without a fight. Her dead-accurate shots to the head bought Ranger enough time to draw his shotgun and pull the trigger on those who dared threaten his life.

  In the midst of the fracas, Ranger had other ideas. Instead of running back to the truck and getting out of there, he marked his territory, cranking out shot after shot with a big smirk on his face.

  “Shit, Ranger! What are you doing?” Matty screamed, her face turning into a sneer, and her gaze almost firing flames.

  “What does it look like I’m doin’?” He kept blowing away the draggers as they jumped at him, bodies piling at his feet. “I’m havin’ some fun.”

  “He’s out of his mind.” She said to herself aloud, but quickly redirected her observation at Ranger. “You’re out of your mind. Get the hell back in here. We’ve got work to do!”

  “In a minute.” Ranger said. When his shotgun emptied, he used the butt of the weapon to smash the faces of those who had gotten too close for comfort. One in particular, Ranger hit square in the mouth, but after having shaken the daze from its head, lunged at him with both hands toppling Ranger to the ground. Two others seized Ranger’s kicking legs and screeched their success to the others.

  Shaking her head over the roof of the truck, Matty dumped one clip after another attempting to keep up with the throng. Then the unthinkable happened. Another group divided from the crowd and headed toward Matty. If they came after her, Ranger would have to take care of the attacking chewers himself.

  In the meantime, inside the truck, Jon hopped to the front seat and scanned the crowd surrounding them. He mouthed the word “wow”, then scrambled to search the floor of the passenger seat where Matty sat. He didn’t know what he was looking for but whatever he could find, he would need to use fast, since Ranger had all he could do to kick the three monsters from him and Matty would eventually run out of bullets. Jon rummaged through Matty’s belongings, the glove compartment, and under her seat. Nothing caught his eye. An idea struck him when he peered through the windshield to witness the carnage Ranger had inflicted on the crowd during those short moments he had fired his weapon on them. Jon scrambled to the backseat of the truck and pulled on the loop to recline the seat. He dove into the trunk to find the bag of weapons they had stashed for emergencies. If any time as any was a good time for an emergency, it was then. His little hands pulled a government-issue machine pistol. He franticly jostled the latch to the loading mechanism, but he couldn’t do it. Something had it jammed. In reality, Ranger had set the safety on it to prevent a misfire. Jon smacked the top of the seat in a fit of exasperation, then threw the gun back in the bag, crawled from the trunk, popped the backseat into position and dove back into the driver side where Ranger usually sat. Jon scanned the dash, the floor the windshield, the seats, but couldn’t find anything to help either Matty or Ranger with their predicament.

  One last idea, Jon turned to Matty, who had half her body in the truck and the other half on the roof of the truck. He noticed th
e knife she carried, strapped around her left leg. He quickly pulled it from its sheath. Matty patted her thigh to where the knife should have been. Without thinking, more as a reflex, Jon crawled from the driver’s seat, cupped his mouth with one hand and called to the undead killer, “Ranger, catch!”

  Covered with zombies, Ranger’s hand appeared from the throng. Without effort, he caught the knife and went to work. The first of the undead that had pinned him by the shoulders, and lunged at his throat, took a knife to the temple. It collapsed on top of the zombie butcher. Then he turned his focus on the two that had captured his legs. Ranger switched the knife to his other hand and pulled his own knife from the sheath strapped to his leg.

  At the same time, Matty emptied her last clip on the eaters smashing into the car and hopped inside the truck locking the door. Her best hope would have been none of the eaters crashing through the windows. Not about to wait for that to happen, she dove into the backseat while Jon watched her. She scrounged around the trunk for more ammo.

  Chapter 33

  Dark clouds churned and whipped as the wind carried debris from the tarmacs of McConnell Air Force Base between the hangars nearby. Colonel Hendricks, David and Billy along with a small contingent of Resistance fighters, drove slowly on Salina Drive where they stopped by the outskirts of the air base.

  Hendricks pushed the door open to his Humvee, walked to the first vehicle behind, and left the boys alone in the truck.

  “I don’t know about any of this.” David said, sitting in the front passenger seat.

  Billy kept his eye on the colonel while David shook him by the shoulder.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “I heard you.” Billy turned his attention to David. “We’ll be fine.”

  “If we’re going to be fine, why do I suddenly feel we’ve jumped into a lion’s den?”

  “I don’t think we’ll have anything to worry about. The colonel has a plan and he’s not about to let anyone get in the way of that plan. You know, I have to tell you, though. There was a minute there I thought we were done for back there at the camp. I thought we’d die for sure. Hadn’t it been for Ranger, that crazy general would have made us into chewers. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t have wanted to eat a friend of mine for my next meal.”

  “But it never ends. I mean, what are we doing here? Shouldn’t we be at Beech Factory Airport? This is nuts. This airbase will be crawling with military. The camp we stayed at will seem like a school playground in comparison to what’s coming next.” David ran all his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I’m feeling suicidal.”

  “Don’t even joke about that. We’ll pull through. We need to be careful, that’s all. Colonel Hendricks has it all planned out.” He eased into his seat and pushed his legs under the seat ahead. “I hope.”

  Hendricks trotted back into the driver’s seat, closed the door, and gave the boys guns. “Just in case,” He said. He pulled a pack of chewing gum from his jacket and offered a couple of pieces to the boys. David didn’t take one, but Billy didn’t have a reason not to. The colonel then grabbed a stick, removed the foil wrapping and plopped the stick in his mouth.

  The convoy that had followed him passed Hendricks’ truck in a neat line. They headed straight for McConnell Air Force Base without the least bit concern the military would spot them. At the same time, while Hendricks waited for the last truck to disappear, the boys shared glances and wondered what was happening. Puzzled looks covered their faces. Had the convoy finally decided Hendricks’ plan was not going to work? Had he infuriated someone that they’d decided to abandon him in all his glory as the leader of the Resistance?

  “What are we doing?” Billy asked.

  “Well,” Hendricks said, in between chews, “that team over there is heading to the airbase. They’ll be gathering with the other Resistance forces, assembling supplies, then meeting us at the Epic Center. I’m expecting only a small skeleton squad of military personnel will have remained guarding the base. It shouldn’t be difficult to get rid of them in order to get the provisions we need.”

  “And us?”

  “We’re heading to Beech Factory Airport.”

  “On our own?”

  “On our own.”

  The boys traded glances and didn’t know what to think. They had the idea the convoy of Resistance fighters following them would provide an escort to getting them to Beech Factory Airport’s radio tower, but with Colonel Hendricks’ change of plans, they might as well have counted the moments they had left in their miserable lives.

  * * *

  Trapped in the jeep with nowhere to run, blocked by vehicles ahead and behind, General Grayson held Randy by the tie around his hands and straightened him in his seat. “You listen to me good. If those zombies storm this vehicle, I will kill you. If I see them an inch away from my neck, I will kill you. If you try escaping again—”

  “You will kill me?” Randy said, then smiled.

  “Don’t mock me, boy. The only reason you’re still alive is because I haven’t killed you.”

  “The only reason I’m still alive is because once this is over, you want your payoff.”

  The general shook Randy by the tie and twisted it while grinding his teeth. Randy winched and let out a painful groan. The general smirked, then said. “I die. You die.”

  The eaters crashed into their jeep with such force it shook Grayson from his seat. He stared at Randy while holding his gun. Randy held his breath not knowing what the general would to do with the weapon. Another hit to the jeep jostled the general from his seat. This time, the general grabbed his phone from the jeep’s dash and dialed a number.

  High atop the Epic Center, Secretary Emerton’s phone rang. He closed his eyes not wanting to pick it up knowing the general probably had another excuse as to why the boy wasn’t with them. To his dismay, he couldn’t have predicted it better.

  “Emerton, stop picking your nose and listen to me. I’ve got the boy and we’re trapped in the middle of Main Street and Central Avenue with chewers surrounding us. Send help.”

  “What is it you want me to do? You’re the army. You’re the help.” The secretary said while Emissary Rodan turned to eavesdrop on the conversation.

  “Think of something and get it done. We have a few more minutes to hold them back. After that, we’re good as dead and your precious cargo will be nothing more than the next banquet at the hands of the undead. Haul ass!”

  Emerton stared at the phone after the general hung up. He slipped it into his pocket and rubbed his forehead, paced from one place to another on the skyscraper’s rooftop and finally stopped after closing his eyes. How could he find help? General Grayson was the help. If anything had happened, the general and his men would have been Plan B. What could he do? His mind raced thinking of all the permutations. So far, he knew the general had Randy. He knew once the general delivered Randy to the emissary that they’d all get their reward. His head felt like a twenty-pound weight on his shoulders. He needed a good idea. He disappeared in a huddle with the other government officials and talked about options. Yet they’d all run out of options. He had nothing left to offer.

  In that moment, when Emerton and the other suits gazed at each other blankly, Emissary Rodan asked the question, “What is it, Mr. Secretary?”

  The color in Emerton’s face drained while the other officials backed away from him. Who knew what the emissary would do after hearing the bad news that Randy would die by the hands of the creatures they helped create. He had no choice. He had to tell him.

  “Emissary Rodan,” the secretary said. “The general’s in trouble. It doesn’t look like he’ll be able to deliver the boy to us. The converted have surrounded both him and the boy a block north from here. It’s only a matter of time before they die. I’m sorry.”

  When Emissary Rodan heard this, he asked Secretary Emerton of General Grayson and Randy’s location. Contrary to what Emerton thought would happen, Rodan drifted to the edge of the sk
yscraper where he could see the streets filled with zombies attacking the trucks. He stood there for a moment, his eyes a deep black, glistening between blinks. He looked at the ship as it hovered over the building at the ready.

  Without further delay, Emissary Rodan tapped a button implanted in one of its hands, which in turn made a delicate sound like that of a musical scale. The sound betrayed the emissary’s intention. Rodan spoke in the alien language, words to which Emerton and the others held puzzled looks on their faces. Whatever Rodan said, the tension in his voice couldn’t hide his anger. As he screeched his final command, he smacked all four of his hands together, then pointed to the street and smacked his hands again. Tapping the button again and to the sound of an opposite musical scale, he placed all his hands on his hips.

  Emerton looked at the other suits, then approached Emissary Rodan with his heart in his throat. Would the alien throw the secretary off the building for asking a silly question? “What’s going to happen next?”

  The alien pointed his head to the ship. He said, “Watch.”

  * * *

  Inside the trunk, Matty heaved the bag with the ammo, searching for a clip for her gun. Her heart pounded as her face grew dim from the realization she might have used her last bullet.

  In the meantime, lying on his back in the middle of the bridge, Ranger had killed one of the zombies that had held him by the neck. With two knives, the one Jon had tossed and his own, he slashed and stabbed his way to his feet. One zombie after another, he took the crowd down hell’s path.

  While green blood squirted on the streets, Jon screamed from inside the SUV as one of the zombies appeared at the driver side door. He quickly shut it, but Ranger had left the window open and the monster’s hands flew through it, seeking to claw at the little boy.

  As Jon wrestled with the creature, Matty’s smile came back to her. She had found a pocket in her duffle bag she had forgotten she had. With a firm grip, she clenched the full clip and quickly unloaded her gun of the empty, but it might have been too late. The zombie threw its paws on Jon’s clothes and slowly drew him in like an angler reeling in a huge catch. No way would Matty allow anything to happen to her brother. Not a chance. After having loaded her gun, she jumped into the backseat aimed it at the head of the screeching eater, and for a moment the thought passed through her mind that she would make a mess of the interior of the truck. A silly thought, considering how Ranger hated to clean up Randy’s messes. She didn’t care. This would be the last breath of the eater’s miserable life, and death would come from her hands.