Marine Summer: Year 2041

by B. E. Wilson

  “Can you see the training depot?” Hunter asked.

  “Negative, they’ve constructed a barrier. It’s locked down pretty tight!” I responded.

  “Two minutes out, they are coming in hot!” Brains said.

  “Kid, we’re coming on your six. When the Warthogs rip that runway, make your move! The rest of us will follow you in!” Motown said.

  I could hear those antique engines roaring in my direction. Low and mean they tore over the hill. The 30mm Gatling gun started laying hot metal down the center of the runway. Alien bodies were cut down like paper through a shredder. The path was now clearer, and the first artillery bunker was now visible.

  “Go, go, go! Before the second wave of Hogs arrives! Hell, you don’t want to be standing there when the first wave gets turned around and makes another pass!” Hunter screamed at me.

  Springing over the barricade, I released the trigger mechanism on the grenade launcher. With it in one hand and my rifle in the other, I targeted anything still moving as I rushed at the first bunker.

  I fired one shot at the bunker from a hundred meters. It didn’t even dent it.

  “Grenade has no effect!” I said.

  “Keep firing! Find a way in!” Motown ordered.

  Another shot at 50 meters. Nothing.

  “Here’s the Hogs, watch your ass!” Brains warned me.

  I was in clear line of their fire as the shots laid down behind my heels, coming within inches of blasting me off the runway. Cover fire from the team kept me on my path, unable to jump left or right to avoid. My only alternative was to take cover behind the bunker, if I could make it.

  “Come on Doomsday, you got to move faster!” Brains pleaded.

  I wasn’t going to make it. Six alien fighters blocked my path.

  Think, dummy. Think!

  With one giant leap, I bounded over the closest alien. Snatching him by the shoulders, I swung in behind him, using him as a shield. This allowed both of us to fall backwards into the others, toppling them like dominoes. Shots from the Hogs ripped my alien shield to pieces, one round penetrating through him and embedding itself in my left shoulder. The others we knocked over were lying nearby, wounded but not dead. I shoved the unfortunate casualty off my chest and commenced executing the others. It was war. They were suffering, but I can’t feel guilty for killing them. If they’d had a chance to take a shot at me, they would have.

  “Can you get in that bunker?” Motown asked.

  Jumping into the trench behind it, I located the entry hatch, but there was no handle or latch.

  “Guys, we got a problem. I don’t know how to get in!”

  “Find a way. We’re getting stomped over here!” Hunter commanded.

  Not only was my team locked down, the other alien artillery bank had started bombing their location, even killing their own fighters that my team had been engaging. I knew I needed to act quickly before they killed them all. I took my ax out and stabbed it in the seam of the hatch, prying away at it with everything I had. I managed to wedge the door open just a few inches, when shots from inside started ricocheting off my chest plate as the aliens inside attempted to thwart my entry.

  I could hear in my head Motown’s report: “Bravo and Charlie just arrived. It’s a fight now, people! Look alive!”

  This was good news. As the other two teams stormed in, I could now concentrate on nothing more than destroying the bunkers.

  Wedging the hatch open just enough to stick my rifle through, I put it on automatic. It disintegrated every living thing inside. Shots pinged around like BBs in a tin can. With Herculean effort, I almost ripped the door off its hinges. Then, one of my own shots grazed my helmet.

  “What the fuck!” I said, peeking inside.

  The artillery control room was a dark green organic structure. It was made of what looked like hanging vines covered in orange slime. I thought that might be the blood of the room’s previous occupants.

  “Temperature indicates dangerous levels Drew Butler. Initiating air handlers to accommodate,” Rita said in my ear.

  The aliens’ weaponry was relatively simple: a small cache of rounds resembling what looked like paint canisters.

  How can something so small do so much damage? I thought.

  Placing one of the canisters in the cannon breech, then pulling upward on the lever I rammed the round into the barrel.

  How do I aim this thing?

  As the weapon was pointed straight up, I was still lost about how to aim it. I located the trigger mechanism, but aiming or rotating it was near impossible.

  “Rita, locate all electronics in this area.”

  As my hud lit up, I saw that the entire structure was electronic. A small grenade blast behind the bunker slammed the pried door shut, cutting off any light in the chamber.

  “Night vision on,” I ordered her.

  And there it was. With night vision, I could see that the entire structure was the aiming mechanism. It played like a movie inside the dome; the entire structure was my viewing screen. Simply rotating the gun showed the target of my round; a small white blur indicated where the explosion would occur. I aimed at the second bunker, pulled the trigger, and waited.

  “Boom, baby! Wow, this is like playing a video game,” I said, watching as the other bunker was destroyed. “Let’s kill something else!” I shouted.

  The Warthogs were making more passes. I watched as those aliens that survived climbed from their hiding places. They would then become my targets. Round after round I lit them up, laying down support for the Hogs and the Teams.

  “They are killing their own!” Hunter shouted.

  “What the hell is going on?” Motown asked.

  I kept my silence and continued firing. It was a massacre. For a solid hour, I used their own weapons on them.

  “Butler! What’s your location?” Motown requested.

  “I’m in my new favorite toy sir!”

  “You are where?”

  “I’m still in bunker number one sir,” I chuckled.

  “That’s you?”

  “Yes sir, you gotta see this shit. You won’t believe it.”

  With the airfield secured and weapons commandeered, Command sent in more reinforcements. Two thousand troops took the offensive, facing the recruit depot, with three teams of Suits standing ready for the call. Tanks rolled in, escorted by all the M1151 Humvees they could wipe the cobwebs off. Heavy artillery armored vehicles lined up behind the tanks, angling for a shot.

  But then the Warthog pilots reported back that the base had been fortified. Alien wall-like structures, some over 15 stories high, towered over the vacant remains of the city. The sound of a strange hum reverberating from the shore back to the structure kept everyone on edge. Red and white lights flickered in strange patterns, dancing across the barrier facing our location.

  The Navy parked two missile cruisers and a destroyer off the coastline behind us, providing plenty of extra firepower if needed.

  “Why aren’t they attacking?” Hunter asked.

  “Probably because they’re scared shitless, sir,” Bob answered playfully.

  “No, something isn’t right. Command hasn’t gave the order to attack yet either. Yeah, something’s wrong.”

  “Want me to scale that wall and take a peek?” I asked.

  “No, stand down. Brains!” Motown summoned him, “get Command on the horn, I need to know what’s going on!”

  19

  Three days at the doorstep of the enemy and not one bit of action. There was no need to contact Command; they came to us. Battles across the world ceased. It seemed that these strange structures were popping up everywhere, one right after the other, all over the map. Six of them emerged out of nowhere just in the United States alone, and not one ounce of intelligence indicated it was happening.

  We were laid up in makeshift quarters, converted cargo containers they had lined up down the shoreline. We were protected by a blanket of rolling armor nestled between us and the base. The ac
commodations weren’t much considering our merits, but they provided a place to escape the warm California sun.

  “Attention on deck!” Bob yelled as the general entered our new digs.

  “At ease, Marines. This is no time for the formalities. We’ve got business to discuss. Gather round.” the general said.

  Pulling a laser pen from his shirt pocket, he projected a 3-D diagram on the wall. “Take a look at this.”

  “What the hell is that?” Motown asked.

  “They’ve burrowed in. This here,” the general pointed at the side of the fortress, “we believe they deconstructed one of their ships to build the barrier around this.” He clicked the button on his pen, and an aerial view inside the structure appeared on the wall.

  “That’s one huge fucking tunnel,” Boom said.

  “Big enough to bury another ship, perhaps? We don’t know at this point, but we need to find out,” the general said.

  “Are we getting a green light to go in sir?” Motown asked.

  “Bet your ass you are! Your team will take point. We’ll send Charlie team in thirty minutes after you, and Bravo and Delta soon after that. We’d send more, but the other teams are in Dallas, where they’re making preparations to engage another one of these monstrosities.” The general put his pen away. “We have no idea what’s down there, men…and lady,” he acknowledged Bob. “But we presume it’s some sort of hive.”

  “We could be walking into the lion’s den,” Hunter said.

  “Exactly! You may find yourselves completely outnumbered. That’s why we don’t want you to fully engage. This is strictly a reconnaissance mission. Collect data and hightail it back here.”

  “Sir?” Motown asked. “What if we have no choice but to engage? What happens if we get down there and they are waiting on us?”

  “I don’t care if it’s a fucking Army down there or three tangos—you’re to stay in the shadows. If your team is detected, you retreat. We’ll discuss plan B when you return.”

  “Plan B, sir?” Motown said curiously. I believed he had a sense of that that was already.

  “We’ll nuke that goddamn hole, but not till we have our people out of the blast radius!” the general said.

  What if they have civilians trapped down there? Are we to kill our own? I thought.

  “But, sir…” Hunter attempted to speak.

  “No ‘but’s, Lieutenant, this is your mission. Don’t fuck it up!” the general barked.

  “Aye-aye, sir!” Hunter jumped to attention, saluting.

  “As soon as your team gets ready, Hunter, we’ll drop you in there. Better hit it. The clock’s ticking.” The general nodded and left the container.

  “You heard the man! Let’s shit and get it!” Motown shouted.

  With a quick refill form the ammo cache, we found a waiting chopper outside, a long steel cable attached to her belly. Motown lined us up in the order we would drop. I was at the very end, first man in. I should have been scared to be the first to enter the devil’s pit, but somehow, thinking about how far I had come, I felt proud. I had started out as a broke-dick unable to do anything right, and now Motown had faith that I could lead the team into a shitty situation.

  “Safeties off!” Motown ordered. “Grab hold and let’s rock this shit!”

  Each of us latched onto the cable as the chopper’s blades started to rotate; the thumping sound of air being beaten into submission resonated all around us.

  “We ready to go flying, Marines?” Hunter asked proudly.

  “Hell, yeah!” Bob sounded off.

  “I guess,” Boom seemed less enthusiastic.

  “Not really…but I guess I don’t have much of choice do I?” Brains said.

  “Doomsday?” Hunter called.

  “I’m full joy sir!”

  “Oo-fuckin-rah!” Hunter signaled to the pilot, who started to lift the aircraft.

  Soon we were dangling like fish on a line, the constant pressure from the rotors beating down our helmets and shoulders. I was okay with gaining altitude; it was the uncontrollable spinning of the cable that upset me. I didn’t like having my back to the structure. If they were going to attack, I wanted to see them coming.

  “We’re getting close! On my marks, you’ll each release. Try not to land on each other,” Motown instructed us.

  Hanging over that massive wall was unsettling. The tunnel was coming into sight. The pictures didn’t do it justice: It was massive, a black hole hidden in the shadows of the wall that protected it. Its depths were hidden by darkness.

  “Doomsday, release!” Motown ordered.

  I released my grip on the cable and fell into the abyss. I heard Bob’s command to release next, which concerned me as I hadn’t touched down yet.

  “Rita, night vision on!” I shouted inside my helmet.

  Finally able to see, I found myself hurtling toward a smooth, steep wall of dirt. I shifted my weight slightly so that when I made contact I could slide down on my side.

  “The wall is starting to slope!” I informed the others.

  I made contact with my left hand first, then my hip and eventually my legs. Using my hand I clawed into the freshly dug earth, attempting to brake. It reminded me of being on a water slide, but without the water.

  I could hear Bob impact behind me, then Boom. The angle of the slope was leveling out, so I pulled my hand out of the dirt to keep my speed up so they didn’t crash into me. As the bottom came into sight, I was able to dig my feet in and stand myself up, I began running till the embankment completely leveled out, halting at the bottom in a crouched position on one knee. I pointed my weapon into the tunnel to provide cover fire if needed.

  Bob sprang up right beside me, “That was awesome!” she shouted into the comms. “Let’s do that again.”

  I didn’t share her enthusiasm, nor did Boom and Brains, who slid into her and knocked her off her feet. Taking notice, I moved up so that I was not in danger of experiencing the same fate.

  “What the hell, dude!” she yelled at Boom.

  “Sorry, baby girl, didn’t see you there,” he laughed.

  “Shut it!” Motown said, sliding in next to them.

  “Area clear, sir! No sign of hostiles!” I said, sweeping the tunnel with my rifle.

  “Roger that,” Motown responded. “Hunter, you and Doomsday take point. Spread out, one on each side. Boom, you take direct center 20 meters behind them. If they make contact, be ready to light the bastards up.”

  We crept east for what seemed like miles in that blacked out wormhole. We encountered no resistance. Hours ticked by. The mission began to seem like nothing more than a wild goose chase.

  “Hey Doomsday, what’s that glow up there?” Hunter asked.

  “I can’t tell. Hang on a second. Rita, night vision off.”

  A dim red glow a few inches off the surface appeared in the distance. It was almost hazy, as if steam was pouring from the surface.

  “I see it now. We’ve got contact sir,” I said to Motown.

  “Brains, any contact with Delta team?” Motown asked.

  “Negative sir, comms are dead,” he answered.

  “Well team, let’s go see what the neighbors are having for dinner. Bob, take the middle. The three of you advance slowly. Let’s try not to give away our position,” Motown commanded.

  With Bob between us, we slunk toward the glow, staying low and ready. The closer we came, the brighter the red light radiated.

  “Temps approaching dangerous levels,” Rita said in my ear. “Engaging cooling systems.”

  “Holy hell, it’s hot down here,” Bob said.

  “Confirmed. Sir, it’s like an oven,” Hunter said to Motown.

  “I’ve got 140 degrees Fahrenheit on my hud. What’s it like up there?” Motown asked.

  We were only 20 or so meters in front of him.

  “I’ve got 155,” Hunter reported.

  “Same here,” Bob confirmed.

  “Let’s carry on. Get what we need and get the hell
out of this Easy-Bake Oven,” Motown instructed.

  The edge of the glow was in sight. We crept closer until we could see what we had come for. Dug in deep sat the roof of another ship. We could see a mined-out cavern; blackened rock from drill marks lined the outside walls, with clumps of lose dirt falling about due to the vibrations coming from the ship.

  “What the fuck is this?” I said, lying on my stomach and peeping over the ledge.

  “That ship is huge,” Bob said.

  “Has to be a mother ship,” Hunter said as he peeked over the edge.

  “Um…guys?” Brains said seeming worried. “Why aren’t they defending the tunnel? Did that ever cross anyone’s mind but mine?”

  “You think this is a setup?” Hunter asked.

  “Considering we just had a major fucking war with them up on the surface, it seems odd that they just left the front door open. I don’t think they are inviting us for dinner; I think we are dinner,” Brains said.

  I didn’t want to agree with him, but turning left and looking north, I couldn’t doubt his assumption.

  “Mother of god!” I said.

  “What is it Doomsday?” Motown asked.

  “You have to see this. He’s right. Brains is right!”

  Motown snuck into position next to me.

  “Oh my,” he gasped.

  At the bow of their ship, nestled up into the side of the cavern, they had dug out an area the size of a football field. Thousands of human bodies hung from meat hooks as bloated, fat alien butchers carved away at their corpses.

  “My god, they’re harvesting meat,” Hunter said, watching as one of the butchers sliced a human leg off a victim and placed it in a black bag.

  “They want us to march in here so they can slaughter us!” Motown said.

  My Suit started to glow red as my temper flared. Thoughts of my brothers being treated like this haunted my mind. Lee being blown to shreds, Sanchez dying as I held his hands. As the remains of every discarded skeleton were pitched over the edge, my fever grew.

  “Doomsday!” Motown called.

  I ignored him.

  “Doomsday!” he screamed louder.

  “Oh shit, he’s going postal,” Hunter said, watching as my Suit burned brighter than ever before witnessed.