EMERGENCE: Incursion

by JT Sawyer

  Shit—move faster—now! He clutched his Glock, feeling a short burst of adrenaline dumping into his veins as he began bounding up the stairs. He didn’t bother to focus on the floor numbers, just kept his head fixed forward and robotically hammered out the steps as the faint red lights of the exit sign above grew larger.

  Arriving on the last level, he flung open the door and burst through, his weary arms trying to sweep the pistol to either side. Rushing for the areal antenna, he located the central junction box attached to the corner pylon of the thirty-foot tower. He depressed the latch and opened the box, flipping on the power. Reisner turned the red dial that controlled the short-wave frequency, cranking the knob to full capacity.

  He stepped back, craning his neck up to the top of the antenna, and saw a blue light flashing. The bright light of the beacon sent a rush of excitement up his spine, and he waved a fist towards the heavens, letting out a laugh.

  His satisfaction was short-lived as he heard the clamor of drones emerging from the stairwell door. He trotted towards them, taking up a position behind a large vent, then began driving lead in their direction.

  He couldn’t hide and wait them out—he had to take the fight to the enemy and kill as many as he could in the chokepoint of the door while he could. Maybe I can jam them up long enough to get off this roof somehow. His thoughts were drowned out by the staccato of his own gunfire as eight creatures fell from his headshots. They were replaced by another batch of maniacal drones who fought their way over the corpses. Reisner burned through the rest of his magazine, dropping in another and resuming the carnage. The mound kept growing, but it only slowed the rising tide in the stairwell below. His mind was on autopilot as his Glock kept punching rounds into the horde as if he was at a shooting gallery. Another magazine was drained in mere seconds and was deftly replaced as more creatures fell, some of them breaking through and sprinting wildly at him only to be cut down. He felt his heart sink as he shoved in the last magazine, hoping his memory was off and he still had another one left in his vest. As he continued shooting, he kept waiting for the roar of a Blackhawk landing on the roof. Ivins, where the hell are you?

  He counted down his last rounds, knowing the smoking Glock would soon be nothing more than a poor substitute for a bludgeoning tool before he resorted to the fixed blade on his hip. The deafening howl of the drones was all he could hear now as his gun clicked and the slide locked back. Reisner arched up, sucking in a deep breath and realizing he was about to die. His mind raced to the thought of his friends below, hoping this would pay off and that they would soon be on their way out of this godforsaken city. As three dozen drones poured out of the clogged stairwell, sliding over the shattered corpses, he continued backing up, removing his nine-inch blade from its sheath and staring into the menace before him. His throat went dry and he smirked, never imagining that he would die alone like this, torn to pieces by monsters created by the same agency that trained him.

  The drones slowed down, fanning out around him in a half-circle, their seething breaths filling the cool air.

  The sound of claws scraping across concrete rose above the din of the drones. He slowly pivoted to his right and saw the alpha climbing over the lip of the roof where a drainpipe was welded. She nimbly leapt onto the blacktop like a skilled gymnast after a dismount. He marveled at her agility and her bold gait as she moved towards him, the ragged red shirt and jeans looking like they were a second skin on her athletic frame.

  She paused for a moment, staring up at the antenna, her gaze fixed on the blue beacon. She resumed moving to his location as the drones pressed back a few feet with her approach. Their breathing quieted, and Reisner could hear the shrill sounds emanating from the alpha’s lips with each step. She closed the distance with blinding speed, sending out an open-palmed swing with her right arm. He stepped off on an angle, her crusty red claws barely missing his nose. Reisner swung wide with his blade, the tip grazing an open swath of gray flesh above her right hip. She squealed, jumping back with wide eyes while pressing her palm against the wound. Reisner was surprised by her startled expression, and wondered how much she had actually engaged in combat, or if her drones did all the work for her. As he shuffled forward to strike again with his blade poised at his side, the alpha rushed in, jamming his movement. He was so close now that he saw a flurry of gray parasites wriggling near the corners of her mouth, their frenzied movement matching hers. She brought her hand up from underneath, striking him across the left cheek. Reisner crashed into the pylon, shaking his head at the savage blow that almost caused him to black out. Jesus—you can’t afford to take many more of those.

  He kept his right hand up, waving the blade in a small circle to fend her off, his arm feeling like it was weighted down in tar. Why is she doing this? Why not just kill me? Then it dawned on him why they had been allowed to escape from the NSA building, why their escape efforts on the streets had been so successful: she was corralling us—blocking off the routes to the west so we would be forced to push this way towards the prison. No longer did he see her as a savage beast but as a shrewd tactician. God—this was all orchestrated from the beginning: cutting off our escape to the ocean, driving us here, and not attacking us until we made it inside the prison and Morgan eliminated the defenses. She’s after this place for her own nerve center—a hive to protect her own. His mind reeled from the implications, and he knew he had to survive long enough to warn others about this surge in the alpha’s evolution.

  The beast rushed at him, slamming her fist into his forearm as he tried to raise his blade. The crushing force felt like it had snapped his ulna, and he watched the blade fly off to the right as he retracted his throbbing arm to his side. She delivered another backhand at his head, this one connecting with the side of his skull above the left ear. His world became horizontal, and he felt like he was on a toboggan rushing down into an icy abyss. Reisner crumbled to the ground, the pain in his upper extremities blurring together until he felt cocooned in a sheath of agony. He could see the glint of steel from his fixed blade lying a few feet away. He shrimped on his side to try and reach it. He felt pressure on his ribs and saw the alpha leaning over him. With each thrust of her foot, he felt his breath slip away. Reisner clawed at the ground for his weapon, feeling his determination thwarted with each attempt. He thought of Nash and Porter. You’ve been my brothers to the end, and for that I thank you. Jody’s image was all that he saw in front of him with each painful move, as it sunk in that he had failed her. She would hear about his death from Runa, wondering why he had let her down again.

  His fingers were inches away from his blade when he felt another fierce compression on his ribs. It felt like several might have cracked. The alpha flung him on his back, her mouth agape as her face pressed closer to his. She delicately removed a small egg sac from her mouth, the mass resembling angel-hair pasta that was undulating wildly. She brought it closer to his face, her other hand grabbing his jaw as the shrill sound fluttered out from her lips, echoing in his foggy brain.

  Your kind will be ours.

  Reisner’s eyes widened and he blinked hard, studying her lips to make sure they had just moved—or was that noise inside his head? He thought the blows to his skull had rattled his thinking, and he questioned if he was even still alive. She speaks! How—? He didn’t have time to finish his thought as she moved the parasite closer. He squirmed under her weight, his head thrashing, then her body bolted upright, her head swiveling to her right. He wasn’t sure if the faint sound of thumping was his own beleaguered heart or the antenna overhead pulsing. He didn’t wait to find out. Reisner twisted on his side, sending the alpha’s foot off his ribs as he lunged for the blade and drove it into her inner thigh. The femoral throbbed out a stream of gray -and-red liquid, with worms leaking onto the asphalt, causing him to shuffle back as the beast let out a howl. He saw the alpha’s right shoulder explode and heard the pleasing sound of a rifle above as a helicopter came into view to the east. Reisner felt a last tinge of adrenali
ne spike through his weary body and he stood up, coughing and still clutching his wounded forearm to his side. He staggered forward as the alpha fell to the ground. The beast was bellowing out a shrill sound so loud it drowned out the rotors of the approaching helicopter. Gunfire now erupted from both sides of the bird, strafing through the lines of drones around him.

  Reisner hobbled towards the alpha, kicking her in the jaw, sending her head back with a sickening snap. Then he collapsed on one knee and drove the full length of the blade into her forehead, thrusting it while grinding his teeth.

  “My kind is here to stay.” He twisted the handle, the knife splintering apart fragments of the alpha’s cranium as gray ooze poured from the opening and her ears.

  The drones around him kept swiveling their heads at the lifeless corpse of their leader then back towards each other as the survivors began darting like beads of grease on a hot wok. Reisner looked up at the helicopter, where Connelly and Pacelle were unleashing a torrent of lead downrange while Ivins was circling the bird near the east edge of the roof. A few seconds later, he staggered over the pile of mangled corpses and hobbled towards the helicopter. He squinted as much from the whirlwind of dust and debris around him as from the sight of familiar faces, trying to drive away the agony in his limbs so they would keep propelling him forward.

  When the skids of the helicopter were a few feet from the roof, Connelly jumped out and trotted towards him while Pacelle kept punching rounds into the drones near the exit door. She slid in beside him, gripping his other shoulder and helping to hold him up as they trot-walked to the helicopter. The excruciating pain in his ribs was temporarily blotted out as he climbed into the cabin, collapsing on the floor. Ivins swung the bird hard to the right, away from the dispersing drones on the roof.

  “Nash and the others are down by the southeast entrance.” He choked out the words as he sat up on his good arm, looking below at the splayed corpse of the alpha. Why was she trying to turn me into one of them?

  “We weren’t sure if you had gotten my message,” shouted Pacelle from the other door. “Looks like you’ve had one helluva night.”

  Reisner gave a thumbs-up then nodded towards Connelly, pointing to the bandage on her head from the previous battle at the NSA building. “We’re gonna have a lot of stories to tell down the road with all these war wounds.”

  “Hoping not. I’d say you’ve had enough for a few lifetimes. You look like hell.”

  He tried to chuckle, the pain in his side causing him to wince.

  Connelly strapped him in, then she returned to her door-gunner position, buckling herself in place and grabbing the .308 SCAR rifle.

  Ivins pointed to the intersection a half-block from the prison where Nash and Porter were standing atop an overturned bread truck, waving their arms frantically in the air.

  Ivins leaned back towards Pacelle. “Get ’em on board fast—ETA to impact is four minutes.”

  “What happens then?” said Reisner, watching the helicopter descend and Nash and Porter climb inside. Their faces were as weary and bruised as he figured his was. The three men just slunk back in their seats, giving faint nods as they tried to catch their breath.

  “Where’s Blake?” said Reisner.

  Porter just shook his head then lowered his eyes. Reisner felt like he had just been struck again in the ribs.

  They gripped the bench seats as Ivins arced the helicopter to the south and then sped away from the burning prison grounds. Pacelle and Connelly slid their doors closed then gave each operator a bottle of water.

  “Cent-Com is conducting Operation Raptor—an orchestrated tactical strike on several U.S. cities where they’ve identified the location of the alphas based upon variations in heat signatures.”

  “But you killed that one below before she could kill you, so that might be enough to create a rift within the drones,” said Pacelle.

  “She wasn’t trying to kill me—more like absorb me into her ranks or something. I don’t know exactly.” Everyone looked around at each other, their faces taut. Reisner almost mentioned the words the alpha had spoken to him, but he still wasn’t sure if that had really happened or if it was the result of the multiple blows to his head. He reflected back on the events leading from their departure from the NSA building at midnight up until the assault on the prison, marveling again at the alpha and her strategic abilities. They keep evolving and learning with every encounter they have with us—what’s next?

  “There’s no calling off the strikes now,” said Connelly as she sat down next to Reisner and pulled out the first-aid kit under the bench.

  “We should have ample fuel for making it back to the border. After that we can continue on towards the CDC in Phoenix,” said Ivins, who was pushing the helicopter’s engines to the edge as he sped east over the city.

  “Phoenix—why not the GoodWill?” said Nash. “Something happen in the past sixteen hours since we’ve been gone?”

  Pacelle and Connelly gave each other sideways glances. “Where do we even begin?” said Connelly as she dabbed an antiseptic wipe on Reisner’s forehead then gave him some pain meds with his water.

  “And I was looking forward to being on that fine Navy ship along the coast,” said Nash.

  “Thirty seconds to impact,” yelled Ivins as he listened to the feed from Cent-Com on his headset. “Hold on.”

  Reisner saw the contrail from a missile as it arced over the city from the north. He figured it must have come from a base in Nevada.

  “Any survivors in that prison back there?” said Pacelle.

  Reisner shook his head slowly, giving a knowing glance to Nash and Porter, all of them recalling the shady actions surrounding Healey and the guards. Reisner wondered who the real monsters were in the world at times. You don’t see the creatures violently exploiting each other when the chips are down. He let out a muffled sigh as he thought about losing Blake, who, despite his gruff demeanor, was a rock-solid guy who would have walked through a storm of flying daggers for the people around him.

  A second later, a thunderous crack echoed from behind them, causing the entire cabin to vibrate. He could see Ivins white-knuckling the controls as the view outside the front windows made it appear like there was an earthquake unfolding. Reisner felt his throbbing head rattle as everyone’s eyes darted around the cabin. A second later, there was only the hum of the turbine engines and the ground below leveling out.

  Reisner leaned forward, peering out the side window at the billowing cloud of flame and black smoke roiling up to the sky from what had been the prison. He sat back, letting his aching shoulder sag, grateful for the tight cadre of operators around him. They had survived the depths of hell—again. That had to mean something. He closed his eyes and felt the pain meds washing over him. He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring but he knew he would be here to fight one more day with the trusted warriors at his side—that was enough to hold on to for now.

  Chapter 33

  After refueling at an isolated airstrip in Barstow, California, Ivins continued on a direct route east towards Phoenix. The sun was setting over the Sonoran Desert when they finally landed atop the CDC building. There they were met by a handful of medical staff along with Selene, who rushed out to greet Reisner. He was helped off the helicopter by Nash and then limped across the roof, his pace increasing when he saw Selene.

  She threw her arms around him, then saw him wince and stepped back. “Easy, I’ve got a few tender spots.”

  “Sorry.” She brushed her fingers along his face then leaned in closer, pressing her forehead to his. “I thought I might never see you again.”

  “I don’t go down very easy.”

  She pulled back, looking at his bruised face and forearm. “I gathered. You look awful.”

  “You should see the other guys.”

  “I heard it was an alpha—you need to stop going hand-to-hand with those things, seriously.”

  He held his ribs. “That’s damn good advice.”

  She m
oved to his side and wrapped her arm around his shoulder as they continued to walk to the stairwell. He stopped at the entrance, staring out at a nearby hilltop covered in Saguaro cactus.

  “Lot different than L.A., isn’t it?”

  He let out a faint smile, his face aching. He watched the rest of his team and Ivins walk by. “Wherever you guys are at is home.”

  She nudged him forward. “Let’s go get you looked at.”

  ***

  Two hours later, after Reisner had showered and received a thorough medical exam that revealed he hadn’t suffered any broken bones, he hobbled down to the conference room for a debriefing with the entire team along with Ivins, Selene, and Pacelle. There they were greeted on the video screen by General Dorr, President Hemmings, and Jonas Runa to discuss their experience in L.A. and the plans for the next few days.

  Once Reisner had finished explaining their escape and evasion ordeal from the NSA building, he recounted his near-death experience with the alpha.

  “Look, this is going to sound crazy, but when I was battling the alpha, there was a point where she was standing over me and…” he paused, looking around at the others then back at the monitor, “she said something to me—spoke the words: Your kind will soon be our kind.” He stood straight up, crossing his arms. “At first, I thought I was imagining it after getting hit a few times, but then she said it again, speaking as clearly as we are right now.”

  Dorr raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying the alpha spoke directly to you?” He looked at Runa and Hemmings then back at the monitor. “In all the encounters with alphas reported by our troops and our allies, there has never been a single mention of this happening. With all due respect, Agent Reisner, is it possible you were hallucinating from the blows you received during combat with the creature?”