Ranger Martin and the Alien Invasion

by Jack Flacco

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.

  Without warning, the monster released Jon from its clutches and disappeared outside. Matty and Jon looked at one another, then crawled to their respective windows to see what happened to it.

  In the midst of the dead bodies at Ranger’s feet, the zombie that had held Jon for its perfect lunch crashed to the ground. Ranger had seized it from its spot and tossed it like a sandbag. The zombie screamed and wailed at Ranger for having spoiled its plans. It jumped to its feet and sprinted toward Ranger peeling its teeth, drivel pouring from its mouth. Ranger didn’t have time to waste. A foot from tackling the zombie slayer, the zombie’s head led the way. Ranger pulled both knives from behind his back and once the zombie was in striking distance, he sliced through the undead’s throat. The head dropped like a ball on a field ready for someone to kick it back into play. The body’s inertia propelled it to collapse in a mass, its green blood decorating the pavement at Ranger’s feet.

  Leaning from the backseat, Matty stuck her head through the driver side door and said, “Are we done here?”

  Surveying the mound of dead bodies at his feet, Ranger took a deep breath, wiped his knife on his pants, then placed it back in the sheath and marched toward her, “Yeah, we’re done.”

  “Do you have the keys?”

  Stopping in his tracks, he patted his pockets. His eyes bounced back and forth between pats. He then shot a glance over his shoulder behind him to the empty spot where neither dead body or blood lay. The keys rested there quietly waiting for him. He walked back, grabbed them and held them tight, not wanting to let them go. “Yeah, I have the keys.”

  Matty rolled her eyes and disappeared into the truck.

  * * *

  As Emissary Rodan stared at the ship above, the nodules under the belly of the saucers lit bright white. At first, the lights appeared synchronized with each other, but as they dimmed, they took a life of their own. They sparkled in an almost musical fashion, brilliant in sight, perfect in motion. Had the ships come in peace, the audience would have pointed their fingers at the incredible show, nudging each other at how colorful it all appeared. Secretary Emerton, the suits, and the soldiers could only gaze in the sky at the ship not knowing what to make of it. Would the illuminations turn to death rays, spilling burning light into the crowd below, making zombies of them all?

  Another set of lights along the rim of the ship burst with color in a rotating fashion. Around and around they went, in a slow, purposeful pulse. As the strobes from the nodules became more rapid, the rotating around the rim raced faster and faster. Secretary Emerton and the rest of the suits backed away to a wall, but no matter where they went, the ship covered the entire rooftop. They didn’t want to know what Emissary Rodan had asked the ships to do. They didn’t want to find out. All Emerton wanted was to get out of there fast. And that’s what he and the officials did. They tore open the door to the stairs and ran away like scared kids from a terrifying ride at an amusement park.

  The instant the door shut to the government’s escape, the nodules under its belly detached, spun in the air, then dropped quickly to fill the skies. The nodules screamed to earth to form a synchronized triangular pattern. They were nothing more than squadrons sent from a mothership to deal with the undead infestation that had taken control of the streets below. Shaped like triangular pies, silver in makeup and design, more than a hundred of these crafts dove from the sky to reach their intended targets.

  Below, General Grayson pushed Randy to the floor. He locked the jeep’s doors and sealed the windows, buying time to load his gun with a new clip. He saw how even after the myriad of shots fired to their torsos, the zombies were relentless, jumping on the soldiers on the street to tear them apart. One soldier, having forgotten how to shoot the undead in the head, unloaded his clip at the approaching zombie. When he ran out of bullets and threw his gun at it, five eaters leaped on him from the sides and bit him to a crawl as he screamed in agony for his life. Another soldier died after attempting to enter his truck. He lost his footing on the vehicle’s steps and fell to a group that had chased him as he reached for the door. By the time any of his buddies arrived to save him, his hand remained locked in a cold grip on the door handle while his body lay in tatters at the foot of the truck.

  General Grayson hid in the vehicle, cowering on the floor of the jeep, hoping none of the eaters would find him or Randy. His plan had a flaw in the logic. He didn’t count on a group of zombies rushing the jeep after having seen him reload his gun. Outside, they beat the hood, smacked their palms and moaned. Their flesh hung from the bone and appeared black as having rotted longer than the rest.

  “We’re not going to make it!” Randy covered his ears from the undead banging.

  “If I have anything to do with it, I’d throw you in there myself. That ought to keep them busy while I make a run for it.” The general said, and clenched his jaw. “Whatever happens, I’m not dying today.”

  The undead moved to the doors of the jeep and within seconds, one of the triangular alien craft squadrons soared overhead dropping several metal capsules within the crowd on the street. The capsules crushed those hit and burrowed halfway into the pavement. One capsule had fallen from each craft. There were five in all.

  The zombies who slammed their fists on the general’s jeep shook after the capsules hit the ground, startling them into investigating what had fallen.

  “What in God’s name was that?” The general asked.

  Randy didn’t say a word.

  Grayson rose from under the floor of the jeep, scanned the backseat and saw Randy curled into a ball on the floor with his hands over his ears. He next swung his head around, placed it on the dash and peered through the windshield. Attracted by the capsules that’d fallen from the sky, the crowd had turned its back on its victims in the jeep. The general rubbed one eye and stared at the horde thinking whatever those things were, they weren’t good. As much as he tried to keep hidden, one of the zombies who didn’t care about the capsules smacked its lips on the passenger side window of the jeep. Grayson jumped from his seat and crawled to the driver side with his gun pointed in the direction of the undead gazing at him.

  The pop from the capsule sounded loud. It blasted a portion of its top into the crowd and pieces of it traveled clear across the street to smack into the faces of those zombies too dumb to stick around when the show was about to get worse.

  Out of the mouth of one of the capsules, an olive green mass untwisted from its nest. It slithered, moved and slunk. As the zombies drew closer with a drag to their feet, the creature’s slithering mass grew larger and wider. All the creatures from the capsules acted the same way. Forming a line on the street, the entities crept from the capsule. Uncurling from the center, the monster’s arms snaked through the crowd under the feet of the zombies from one side of the street to the other.

  “God’s abandoned us.” The general said, watching the sight unfold from inside the jeep.

  Having heard the general, and not hearing the banging on the hood as he once did, Randy rose from the backseat and stared through the windshield with his mouth and eyes open wide. He’d never seen anything like it.

  One of the creature’s arms, four in all, extended outward, slithering through the crowd. Like a flower,
the creature’s head bloomed from the capsule, rising in the air as its arms continued to crawl through the horde.

  The smell from the creatures filled the air with mustiness and decay. They didn’t have hair, nor did they have legs. They didn’t need them. They weren’t going anywhere. They had a job to do. Whatever that job was, the general didn’t need to know. He slipped the keys to the jeep in the ignition, and several seconds prior to turning it over, the arms of the creature closest his vehicle whipped through the crowd, and crashed into the undead bodies. The creature cracked heads, sprayed the multitude with a black liquid and rammed its arms through the zombie torsos. The chewers groaned from the destruction the creatures in the crowd had caused, but they didn’t move. The eaters had no sense of self-preservation, and instead they wandered around aimlessly. Bodies burst against the walls of the buildings with such force the impact left a trail of green blood pouring on the sidewalks and into the streets.

  In the meantime, General Grayson turned over the engine to the jeep, flipped the gear into reverse and rammed the vehicle behind him. He then shifted it into drive and crashed into the vehicle ahead. One final shift and Grayson squished his way backward, half on the sidewalk and half on the pavement. He thought if Emerton’s idea of helping is to kill him, then Emerton didn’t understand a thing about diplomacy. Then again, perhaps Emerton would have done him a favor by getting him killed.

  As the general tore through the crowd in reverse gear, pummeling one zombie after another, taking out parking meters, the creatures continued their mayhem by decimating the horde ahead. Adding to the mess, two squadrons of silver triangles, five ships per squadron, tore a flyby through the streets and fired on the expanding mob. Lasers severed the heads of those hit by the earsplitting alien crafts. The crafts were careful not to hit the general carrying Randy in his jeep. In fact, if anything, the ships made another route clear for the general to escape to the skyscraper.

  * * *

  Secretary Emerton emerged from the doorway leading from the Epic Center with the expectation a car would be waiting for him and the other suits at the entrance. Had they left earlier, they wouldn’t have had to worry, but because he didn’t leave earlier, as soon as he and the boys set foot on the sidewalk, a group of eaters dragged their way from the street and moaned their hunger for them. Unarmed, Emerton glanced at the building doorway. By that time, though, as he pressed his hands to open the door, one of the undead, the former George Wayne, husband to Sandra, father to Catherine, had jumped him from behind and ripped into his neck amid his screams.

  The other suits scattered throughout the street while the zombies tore in hot pursuit. Either torn apart by eaters or thrown about to the ground, all the government officials died from the melee brought on by the undead.

  Chapter 34

  While the zombie, the former George Wayne, sunk its teeth into Emerton, the screech of a military jeep cutting across the pavement forced it to spring to its knees. The lights caught it unaware and the vehicle plowed into it, crushing the undead and Emerton under its wheels. The general burst from the jeep, firing his weapon at the zombie stragglers who had made a meal out of the government suits. Not waiting for any of them to rise again, he pulled Randy from the backseat and shot a path through the four other eaters protecting the door.

  At the same time, Ranger’s truck arrived several hundred yards away hitting anything undead that moved. Looking through the windshield from the backseat, Jon pointed at Randy and said, “There he is!”

  Ranger shifted the truck to park and grabbed his Mossberg 500. Matty checked the ammo of her Colt .45 while she watched General Grayson pull Randy by the scruff of his neck into the Epic Center.

  “Whatever we do, we better do it fast.” Matty said. “Once they get to the top of that building, we’ll never see Randy again.”

  Ranger nodded. “I was hopin’ Hendricks would have done his part by now.”

  “I told you we shouldn’t have trusted him. He had those shifty eyes and those thin lips. He’s probably clear across the other side of the country enjoying a snooze in a canopy by the waves, laughing at our expense.”

  “For someone who’s supposed to have a level head you sure have a vivid imagination.” Ranger said as he stepped from the SUV and pulled the trigger on a zombie that had pounced from the side of the street.

  “Hey, you’re the adult. You’re my example.” Matty said, exiting the vehicle and taking care of her own little problem with a blast from her gun.

  “Don’t you guys ever stop arguing?” Jon said, tagging along.

  As the three of them rushed the entrance to the skyscraper, inside the building, General Grayson poked Randy forward one flight of stairs after another. With his hands tied in front of him, Randy found it difficult walking without falling. After collapsing for a third time, Grayson drew his knife from his belt and pointed it at the teen’s head, “You try to run, and I’ll scalp you. Do you understand me?”

  Randy had no choice but to nod.

  “Good.” The general said, slipping the knife between Randy’s hands and cutting the tie.

  Once freed, Randy rubbed his wrists and noticed the red tie marks that burned to the touch. He grimaced when the general grabbed him from the chest and stood him on his feet. Grayson had no reason to be nice to him. He shoved his prisoner, grabbed and pushed him. The general proved he was very much the bully he had projected in being. He did not intend to change, not so close to the prize of delivering the package to the aliens.

  When Ranger and the kids entered the building, he headed straight for the elevators and pressed the button. Matty caught up to him, looked at the button, then at him. Jon, who stood next to Ranger, had the same look on his face. The look said, “Do you really think the elevators are going to work?” The kids’ impatience didn’t discourage him from trying.

  Matty and Jon knew that if the military had anything to do with it, they would have shut down the elevators and forced everyone to use the stairs, especially those individuals attempting to stop Randy from meeting Emissary Rodan. Perhaps the kids knew more than Ranger would give them credit. Jon slipped away and found the stairs. Without threatening Ranger’s pride, Jon dug his hands in his pockets and climbed each step staring at Ranger. Within a moment, Ranger noticed. He said to Matty that they’d have to take the stairs. She rolled her eyes, and muttered, “Of course we do.”

  But when they sprinted the first few flights, a shot from the top of the railing rang through the stairwell.

  “What the hell, Ranger.” Matty said. “Is he shooting at us?”

  Another shot fired, ricocheting a few floors above.

  “He is firing at us!”

  Ranger fired his shotgun between the rungs and hoped to have hit something.

  “Are you crazy? Randy’s up there. Do you want to kill him, too?”

  Another shot screamed from the top, but this time it came within inches of Jon’s head.

  “You still have a problem with what I’m doin’?” Ranger asked.

  “Kill that sonofabitch.” Matty barked, pulling her brother behind her and taking a couple of shots herself. If anyone dared threaten her brother, she had no problem taking him down. Matty still had feelings for Randy and didn’t want to lose him either. Her idea of helping him didn’t include a bullet to the head from her gun. She vowed to protect Randy as much as she could, but her brother came first.

  “Stick to the walls.” Ranger said as he pushed Matty’s shoulders against it.

  Their footsteps sounded loud against the hard surface of the stairs. Reaching the seventh floor landing, several noises echoed from below. Ranger peered over the rail and squinted to see what headed their way. He could make out hands grabbing the rails as they trotted the stairs one flight after another. At first, he thought the military marched the stairs to reach the top, perhaps as backup to General Grayson’s nefarious plan. The three of them wouldn’t have a chance against them, but he recognized the hands. They didn’t belong to the living.<
br />
  “We’ve gotta move.” Ranger said, pushing Matty and Jon up the stairs. He passed them. “C’mon, c’mon we gotta get going.”

  “They’re not military.” Jon said. “We wouldn’t be moving this fast if they were military.”

  “Let’s go!”

  Nothing could fool Ranger. He knew what zombies sounded like. The horde below tumbled over each other, smacking into walls, burying their brothers and sisters under the heels of their shoes, and some falling backward from a misstep. Their common goal to get to Ranger and the kids would not die with a simple trampling. It would not keep those who had fallen from rising again in order to follow their hunger to the top of the skyscraper. They would never deviate. They would get their food, no matter what.

  Another couple of shots whizzed by, missing Ranger and the kids. The general must have heard them getting closer since the shots became more frequent and louder.

  At the fourteenth floor, Jon had his hand on his side and his legs felt like two iron anvils. He panted and wheezed wishing he could stop, but knew if he did, he might as well say good-bye. He pushed harder on his legs and used the rails to pull himself to the top of the fifteenth. When Ranger glanced behind to see how everyone else was doing, he saw Jon struggling.

  “What’s the matter, kid?” Ranger asked.

  “Nothing. I’ll catch up. You go on without me.”

  Matty turned and wrapped her arm around him and said, “Don’t worry about him, Ranger. I got it.”

  “You’re kiddin’, right?” Ranger said, then dashed to them without losing his breath.

  The undead horde that followed them had two more flights before catching up. Some of the bodies whose heads the zombie brothers had crushed lay on the stairs, green liquid running from the cracked skulls. They didn’t give a damn about anything other than satisfying their urges. They groaned, moaned, pressed their way, pushing and shoving in hopes of finding their food without much more work than they already had devoted to their hunt.