by Mark Tufo
Dee looked over to Tony. “Target your shot lower. They are most vulnerable below their chest. The armor may repel your shot.”
“They have armor that can stop a steel-jacketed .30-06? How much does that weigh?”
“I do not believe load limits are a problem for them.”
“I suppose not. Let me stuff some padding under Travis’ hat.” Then Tony did as Dee said. “Sorry about this.” He had just aimed a little north of the creature’s crotch.
Dee brought his rifle up as well. “I am ready. Fire when you will.” The explosions were nearly simultaneous. Travis cried out from the noise even with the impromptu noise suppressor.
Tony was convinced his target had started moving the split second the shot left his rifle. The Devastator had been in the process of turning to his side when the heavy round struck its pelvis, shattering the bone in three places. Dee’s target fell over backwards as his round struck the bridge of the creature’s nose and pancaked into its brain, ceasing all life function in the span of an eye blink. As Dee had predicted, the two remaining uninjured Mutes ducked down for cover and began to return fire almost immediately.
The one Tony had hit was on the ground making a loud “ung” sound. Clearly he was under a lot of duress and pain, but even so, he had the presence of mind to grab his weapon and start shooting. As of yet, the Mutes had no true idea where the shots had been fired from, even so, they were surprisingly close.
Trees splintered and crackled as they were struck by the weighty rays from the guns being fired. Splintered branches and pine needles rained down on the attackers. Tony fired, again aiming for the Mute he’d already shot. The beast was horizontal to him, this time he hit high in the hip. The Devastator twisted in agony, his rifle all but forgotten. The Devastators adjusted their aim when they saw his muzzle flash, though they were having a difficult time hitting from this range.
“So far advanced and they don’t have a weapon that can be aimed worth a shit.” Tony fired again as did Dee. Neither struck their mark as they only had head-sized targets to lock on to.
“One is on the move. I believe for the comm device. They do not need aim if they can get a gunship to destroy this entire region.”
“Thoughts?”
“We must leave.”
“I hate to leave a job half finished, but I’m in agreement with you.”
The only other alternative was to advance, and although the Devastators couldn’t hit most of what they shot at, that was more than made up for with the sheer number of rounds they could dispatch. At times it looked like a curtain of red coming their way. They had not gone more than a half-mile when the area they had just left was bombarded. They could feel the heat to their backs as the forest erupted in a blanket of fire.
“I have changed my stance on obtaining a vehicle,” Dee said as they lightly jogged. They could not go much faster, partly due to the vegetation hindering their progress and partly because Tony was beginning to flag.
“I’m sorry, Drababan, I know that I’m holding you up. Take Travis and I will meet you at the Hill.”
“Your lack of speed is not the only reason. The storm is worsening and even the spy ships will have difficulty in this weather. That will not stop them from dropping more troops, though. We need to be as far away from here as we can before it clears up.”
“I’m not even entirely sure where we are, and there will be no one I know to ask.”
“We cannot take the time to ask.”
“You want to steal a car? In Maine? We are as likely to get shot for doing that as we are from the Devastators.” Drababan kept staring at Tony. “Fine, we’ll need to get out of the woods and closer to a road so we can find a house.”
“Like that?” Drababan was pointing off into the distance. A lone house was silhouetted on a small hill.
“I don’t like this.” Tony and Drababan were now hiding behind a shed, looking at an old Ford pickup. It was sheltered from the harshest part of the storm by a carport that was attached to the house and overhung the driveway. “It looks like that is their only mode of transportation. What if they need to leave for an emergency?”
“Ah, perhaps it is a conscience that Michael is missing, for he would have never thought of that,” Drababan smiled.
“We should find another house.”
“Our situation is grave. I do not recommend that course of action.”
“Dammit.” Tony stood up with a grunt and cautiously approached the truck. He tried the passenger door, it was locked. When he went around to the driver’s side, the door opened loudly with a squeal and a pop as a small fender bender dent had pushed the corner of the door into the front quarter panel, causing the door to momentarily stick as it was opened.
“Perhaps you should be more quiet. Or is quieter? I sometimes forget the proper usage.” Drababan had come up next to Tony, startling him.
Just then the porch light came on, illuminating them both. A man, perhaps the same age as Tony, opened the front door and was staring at the pair through the storm door, the barrel of a shotgun was apparent through the window. His eyes grew momentarily large as he took in the sight of Drababan and then they quickly returned to their normal size as if this was just a normal day in his life.
“What would you two be doing looking into my cah at this hour?” he asked in his Maine twang. “If I didn’t know bettah, I would think you ah planning on taking it without my permission. Ah you two the cause of all the commotion I hear ovah yondah?”
“Is he speaking English?” Drababan asked Tony.
“What of it, big fellah?”
“Are you talking to me, sir?” Drababan asked.
“The name is Yodell, and I don’t think that other one qualifies as a big fellah, next to you anyway. Do you?”
“I guess not.” Drababan was not used to someone, especially one without much time around him, acting so nonchalant in his presence. He decided to use the direct approach. “You are correct in assuming that we came to take your truck. We are in great need of getting away from this place as quickly as possible. We have a young one that is not safe here.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so? Be right back.”
“What is going on?” Drababan turned to Tony.
“I don’t know. Mainers can be mighty strange. Affable and helpful as all hell but strange in their own way. I think it has to do with the isolation.”
“What is taking him so long?” Drababan asked after a few minutes.
“That’s another thing about Mainers. Things happen at their pace, they move to the beat of a different drum.”
“Perhaps their drummer could use a little up-tempo.”
“You sound like Mike sometimes,” Tony smiled.
Yodell once again opened the door, this time wearing a brown bombardier hat and a heavy red flannel jacket. He still carried his shotgun in his right hand and in his left was a large green thermos. “Coffee,” he said, holding the thermos up as he turned to make sure he had shut his front door.
“What are you doing?” Drababan asked.
“I’m giving you both a ride.”
“Unacceptable.”
“Thank you.” Drababan had said the former, Tony the latter at the same time.
“Well, at least one of you is appreciative. Come on, it’s colder than a vampire’s heart out here,” Yodell said as he hopped into the driver’s seat. “It’s this way or no way. Neithah of you appears to be able to hot wire a cah or you would have already done so.” A plume of black smoke arose as he turned over the engine.
“This does not seem the least bit strange to you?” Drababan could have been asking Tony or Yodell as he managed to fit his considerable bulk into the cab. Yodell’s hand kept hitting his thigh as he attempted to shift.
“What do I need to know?” Yodell asked. “Progs don’t slink in the night, and if they want something, they just take it. The fact that you are with a person leads me to believe you are both with the Resistance. Am I correct?”
&n
bsp; “Perhaps it is not wise to talk of this. The less you know, the better off you will be.”
“Too late for that.”
“Meaning?” Drababan asked.
“I’m from Maine, not Mars. The only time I’ve heard of a Geno with a human that didn’t involve gunfire was that Talbot fellah and his friend Grabaggages.”
“Drababan.”
“Sorry. Now here is a Geno at my house with two humans, one a bit older and one a bit younger than that fellah, so my guess is that you’re his father and this is his son. How am I doing so fah?”
“Your description would be accurate. That is why we are in need of your vehicle,” Drababan told him.
“Did you see a fleet of cahs when you came to my house?”
“We did not.”
“That’s because I don’t own them. This truck is my livelihood. I will drive you to where you need to go and then I will drive home. So where ah you fellahs going?”
“South of Boston,” Tony told him.
“Should have brought a biggah thermos,” Yodell said without flinching. “That your doing?” He was pointing off to the right where a bright orange glow was illuminating the snow-filled sky.
“Not the bombing itself,” Tony told him, implying that they were the reason for the bombing.
Travis was sitting in Dee’s lap, occasionally reaching out for the dashboard.
“So that there little fellah is a Michael Talbot-in-training?” Yodell asked.
“I hope on all that is holy on your planet that is not the case,” Drababan said, wrapping his arms protectively around the boy in an attempt to shield him from the words.
“What my friend here means is that we hope that perhaps Travis learns a thing or two from the mistakes of his father.”
“Mistakes? Seems your son, Mr. Talbot, has almost single-handedly saved us up to this point. I’m hoping he has one more rabbit up his you-know-what to do it again.”
“He has had a great deal of help along the way, some of it physical, some of it ethereal. I have yet to discover the true origin of the spring from which he dips his ladle.”
There was more small talk as Yodell drove down Route 1 to Augusta and then south on I-95. The traffic grew lighter and lighter as the snow got heavier and heavier. Yodell wasn’t driving much over fifteen miles per hour as they approached the New Hampshire border.
“I don’t suppose either of you has some money for the toll?” Yodell asked as they crawled closer to the money taking booths.
“Even after all that is going on they are still collecting?” Tony asked.
“Death, taxes, and now I guess you can add road tolls onto the list of things that are certain within your lifetime.”
“Those are not people collecting a tithe,” Drababan said as he leaned forward. “Those are Devastators.
“GET OUT!” Yodell yelled, the truck slowing down even slower. Tony and Drababan were slightly in shock. “On the right, if you go straight into the woods you’ll come across a trail not much bigger than a snowmobile’s width. Follow it south for two miles. I’ll meet you where it comes out.”
“How?”
“How do I know?” Yodell smiled. “I make my money selling moonshine, my business is knowing alternate paths. Get out before they realize something is wrong.”
Tony watched as Yodell turned off the cab light so that it would not shine when the door opened. Tony dropped down first, holding Travis, and Dee was quickly behind him, steadying him before the older man could fall over.
“Thank you. My back would have been screaming at me for weeks if I pitched over.”
They watched for a precious second as Yodell moved closer to the blockade. “Do you think they’ll kill him?”
“I sincerely hope not, for then we would lose our ride to Massachusetts.”
“You’re going to have to work on your empathy, Drababan. That man is risking his life for us.” They had reached the tree line and turned back around, watching to see what happened.
“He is indeed brave, and I do not wish to see him harmed, if that is what you meant. I also fear for our safety should he perish. This storm is getting worse and merely making the two miles to the rendezvous point will be difficult.”
The two watched as Yodell was pulled from the truck, his hands upraised.
“How stupid are they? Of course they can see that he has nothing or nobody else in the truck. Not like you could hide anywhere.”
“This is not just about finding us, it is also about the displaying of their power and perhaps some payback for the killing of some of their brethren.”
“Bullshit, they don’t care about anything—even each other.”
“That may be, but they will not suffer an alien species killing them.”
“We’ve got to help him.” Tony stood, aiming his rifle.
“What you propose will not work.”
“Why?”
“You are attempting a shot of over five hundred yards in swirling thirty mile per hour winds during a driving snow while you stand. Your odds of success are less than three percent.”
“Just figured that all out, did ya?”
“Perhaps Michael’s apple did not roll at all once it fell from the tree.”
Tony had already climbed back over the guardrail and was moving quickly down the highway towards the Mutes and the tollbooth.
“Damn fool.” Drababan came out of the woods just far enough to stay on the snow packed grass. He then began to move parallel to Tony. “I do not know why Talbots fear life so much, little one.” He had turned to look over his shoulder at the toddler, who was smiling back at him.
Travis thrust his fist out in the direction they were going.
“You as well? Perhaps it is that Talbots hold the gift of life in such high regard that they will defend it at all cost. Which does make your life seem at odds with itself. Let us hope that you learn from the sins of your father and now your grandfather. Although I now have reason to believe it is a genetic flaw or predisposition that you may have been given. How many of you can I be tasked with protecting?” Drababan moved faster to get ahead of Tony, who was so focused on the enemy to the front that he had not spared Drababan a glance.
The alien troops were not treating Yodell kindly. They had pulled him from his truck, now they were now pushing him back and forth. Drababan knew this would quickly escalate to them shoving and slamming him around. It mattered not at all that he was not who they were looking for. Everyone who wasn’t them was the enemy. There would be no tribunal for war crimes, and he doubted they would even need to come up with an explanation. Tony was fifty yards from the troops when one finally looked up to see him coming. It was obvious to all involved that his approach was of hostile intent. Tony fired the moment the Mute’s head swiveled around. The bullet scraped across the side of his neck, twisting the Devastator to the side. Red streaks of fire followed.
When Yodell realized he was no longer the center object of attention, he’d dived back into his truck. Drababan rested his rifle on the guardrail, exhaled a breath like Mike had taught him, and fired off a round that hit the Mute Tony had injured square in the face. Skin split and an eruption of bone and blood blistered away from the fatal wound. The two other guards had trained their weapons on the only combatant they could see. Tracers of red fire began to lick their way towards Tony, who was getting some decent, well-aimed shots off even as he walked closer to the enemy. The problem was that a fair majority of his bullets were ineffectually striking the heavy enemy armor, doing little more than slightly pushing them back.
Drababan was screened from further contact by Yodell’s truck. He was fearful that, by the time he could get back into the fray, it would be over. Tony felt blistering heat as a round tore through the side of his pants, his flesh sizzling and already turning an angry red. He ignored it as best he could.
“Stay low, little one,” Drababan said to Travis. He had taken note of Tony’s close call and was coming over the guardrail, racing to get in
to position when he noticed that Tony had his rifle up to his shoulder but was no longer firing.
“You must shoot!” Dee roared. He was coming close to being abreast of Tony. He was watching the man, trying to ascertain the problem. Had his rifle jammed? Was the man or the rifle frozen?
Drababan’s heart skipped a beat as he heard the explosion. He had no idea what had happened. Tony had still not moved much beyond breathing. He came to a sliding stop next to the man and turned to look at what had caught his attention. Yodell was standing on the running board of his truck, a large caliber pistol in his hand, smoke rising from the barrel even as a Devastator was falling away. As the third trooper was turning to this newest threat, Yodell let loose another round from his hand-held cannon.
“Been meaning to do that for some time now.” Yodell had stepped down off his truck and kicked at the nearest Devastator to see if he was alive. “Thank you for the help. I think they said they were going to sauté me.”
“Are you alright?” Dee was looking at Tony’s blackened and seared pants.
“Feels like someone is dragging a branding iron across my skin, but I’ll be fine.”
“Could you two cover me? I want to take these…whatever they’re called.” Yodell did not wait for a response as he bent down and gathered up the weapons.
“Thank you,” Tony said as he stepped closer.
“Are you kidding me? Thank you. I’ll be able to trade one of these in for a new truck. Just glad I had my Bessie with me,” he said, referring to his .45 revolver. “Moonshining is a risky business.” Yodell was all smiles.
“We will need to leave the main roads. Once this unit does not check in, they will send reinforcements,” Drababan said. He was busy stuffing bodies into the vacant tollbooths. It was basically one to a booth and even that was a tight fit. “The snow should cover the blood up quickly enough. If we are lucky, we may have a few hours before they are discovered.”
They were back in the truck and on the road in moments. Yodell spoke almost immediately. “I had a close encounter with a Grizzly once. My friend Grader had convinced me to go to Alaska on a hunting trip. Had a pilot bring us out to the middle of nowhere, which is funny because I always thought I lived in the middle of nowhere. Mid-coast Maine has nothing on Alaska. So we set up camp with the intention of going out the next morning to hunt bear. The funny thing was that apparently the bear had the same thing in mind, to hunt humans I mean, because the next morning I unzipped that tent and got out, stood up and stretched. When I turned around, I saw something the likes of which I thought was going to freeze my blood. A thousand-pound Kodiak was not more than ten feet away sniffing at our fire and, I would imagine, the grease that had dripped down from our hamburgers. He had me dead to rights. I don’t think I could have even turned to go back into the tent to retrieve my gun before he could have pounced and swatted my head off. We locked eyes for a second and he growled, a sound that I sometimes swear I can still feel in my chest some twelve years later. Then he looked long and hard at me and growled again as if to say, “I know why you’re here, I let you live, so maybe you should do the same for me.” Then he just turned and took his time walking away. Grader bolted out of the tent, his rifle at the ready, I pushed the barrel to the ground and shook my head. We stayed there three more days by that fire and then just told the pilot we didn’t have any luck. The truth of it was that magnificent beast had let us live and I could never forget that. Where was I? Oh yeah, I thought the most scared I had ever been in my life was when I stared that damn bear down. That was eclipsed the moment those monsters pulled me out of that truck. There was no civility, like ‘we are all in this together’ type of feeling. They hated me and they were going to kill me and eat me, and that would be after some serious beating and tenderizing on their part. If not for your shot, Tony, I would have been killed.”