by Mark Tufo
I couldn’t move and Paul wouldn’t. And then everything went white as I watched the grenade detonate. Paul was literally cut in half, I could feel the heat from the shrapnel as it blazed by. Blood was everywhere; the Hobbit Tree was covered with it. It seemed that the tree itself had suffered grievous wounds. Now the world was pitching, no, it was the tree, it began to creak and moan its protests. I watched as it slowly began to fall over. It started to gain momentum and then came to a thunderous crash which momentarily lifted me off my feet. The demise of the tree hurt me on so many levels, I wasn’t sure where to begin. My dream self wasn’t ready to let me off the hook quite yet.
“Mike! Help me! Help me!” It was Paul, but we weren’t by the tree anymore, he was in his car, stuck, like he was the first time. The only difference was that I couldn’t move. I pulled at my legs with my arms, but nothing happened. The little man who controlled those buttons had quit moments earlier. The request was in, there just wasn’t anybody to punch the card. So I stood there helplessly as I watched my best friend slowly burn.
He screamed repeatedly at me, “Why won’t you help me? Please don’t let me burn!” I could do nothing. I couldn’t even lift my arms to wipe away the tears that were free-flowing from my eyes. He stretched out his hand and I began to scream for all I was worth. Black flesh dangled off his arm, sizzling like pan-fried bacon. I screamed as I watched my friend melt. I screamed and then what? Fell asleep? I don’t know. Everything just stopped happening and the world went black. Was I awake and the lights were out? Or were they on and I was blind, courtesy of Doctor Fenoir?
“Where am I?” I yelled. No echo, so I sure wasn’t in my room. As my eyes adjusted, I was able to distinguish small pinholes of lights. There were dozens, no hundreds, millions and they were all around me. They were stars, so now I must be floating out in space. Whatever the doc gave me, I’m going to have to remember to ask for more. I was really starting to enjoy this little mind journey when a small, disconcerted feeling began to form in my belly.
It was then that I noted that some of the stars were beginning to blot out. Suddenly, I began to hurtle through space. I’m not a scientist but I’m pretty sure I was approaching the speed of light, and yet the star-blotting effect was getting larger and still larger, in pace with the churning in my stomach. The object in front of me began to take shape. My view, including peripherally, was completely engulfed. It was the mother ship.
I awoke, purging nearly everything in my system. I fell off the hospital bed from the convulsions. Blood began to spew through my fingers as I attempted to stem the tide. Alarms were going off in my head. Nope, I thought, as I watched tissue worm its way through my interlaced fingers. Those alarms were coming from the machines hooked up to me. People came rushing from what seemed like all directions, but that could possibly be because I was spinning down, towards the ground. Hands grabbed me from everywhere.
I remembered hearing something about “blue carts and crashing” but those things seemed so distant, so foreign. I began to drift slowly. I arose, looking down at the throng of people. I was trying my best to figure out what all the hubbub was about but, to be honest, it didn’t really seem all that important anymore.
Blood was everywhere; I knew that wasn’t a good sign, and I felt a small pang of pity for the person who had spilled it. That truly was about the most emotion I could muster. The weight of the world was literally being torn and shredded from my shoulders. And it felt great, no, not great, magnificent, stupendous, miraculous! I didn’t have a care in the world. But the world of the living wasn’t quite through with me yet. My physical body still had a say, albeit a short one, from the looks of things.
“What about Deb and Beth?” The slab of meat down there suddenly brought up.
“Who?” Honestly, for a tenth of a second, I didn’t have the slightest clue who they were nor who had spoken.
“Deb and Beth!” That thing down there tried to yell the last part but I could tell that it was losing the struggle because the yell was barely above a whisper pitch. The whisper struck home though. A distant thought started to form and take shape. But I wasn’t thinking it. Then I saw them in all their grace and beauty. Were they angels?
“Deb and Beth,” the pink thing on the floor rattled off. And then the angels grabbed me. Sweet grace of God! I was off to heaven and eternal bliss. Their grip was severe, how could an ethereal being feel pain? What were they squeezing? And why weren’t we going up?
They were pulling me down, I tried to kick their hands away, but, unlike them, I could find no purchase, their arms would dissolve as I passed through them. “This isn’t fair. I’m done! Let me be done!” I protested, but they just smiled their angelic smiles and continued to drag me down, closer and closer to that THING that lay on the floor. I redoubled my efforts. “No! I don’t want to touch that thing. That’s not me! This is me!’ I was pleading to die. How often does that happen?
I began to feel the pull from the body, from my body, like a magnet I was being drawn into it. Deb and Beth had finally released their grasp, but it was no use. It was like trying to pull away from a black hole, it wasn’t gonna happen.
“Doctor!” an excited nurse yelled. “We’ve got a pulse!”
“Quick! Get him on the gurney,” Doctor Fenoir said calmly. Wow, I noted as the last vestiges of my spiritual being returned. He sure doesn’t act like a kid when he’s under the gun.
“Get him up to the O.R. We’ve got to get blood into him; he’s lost too much. Way too much,” the doctor said as he looked around the floor of the room. “You don’t lose this much blood supply and keep on living. What is driving this kid on?”
“Doctor?” the excited nurse looked up.
“Nothing, nothing. Get this kid going!” The doctor lost a little composure. He wasn’t prone to believing in miracles, but even he knew enough to recognize one when he saw it. And he wasn’t about to just let it slip through his fingers.
Chapter 33 - Massachusetts Line – Mass Pike
Deb had been driving for about two hours, now cruising at a comfortable seventy-five miles per hour. She was amazed at how little traffic there was; especially as she began to cross over the New York line. It was almost as if people were avoiding the highway, she thought. Sure, traffic had been light almost their entire trip but now it was almost eerie. Then, the reason became evidently clear as she crested a rise. Down the slope of the highway, no more than a quarter of a mile away, was a roadblock It appeared to be a military checkpoint with at least two tanks and a five-ton troop transport.
“Uh, Beth? You might want to wake up for this one,” Deb said as she nudged her companion. Beth stirred and awoke relatively fast. She had barely fallen asleep more than ten minutes before.
“What’s up?” were her only words as she wiped her eyes.
Deb had brought the car to a near standstill in the middle of the roadway.
A huge lit-up construction sign glowed to their left: Massachusetts is in a state of emergency. All personnel not on official military business will be detained and their property seized. Proceed Forward Cautiously!
“What now, Beth?” Deb asked with the slightest bit of panic interlaced in her voice.
“Well, we can’t just sit in the middle of the road. They’ll either get suspicious and shoot at us, or somebody is going to plow into the back of us. Either way, we need to do something.”
“What about turning around?”
“That would be a great idea, except for the median divider.”
“Dammit!” Deb said as she slammed her fist down on the steering wheel and then placed her head on it.
“One of the Jeeps is moving, Deb. It’s coming towards us,” Beth said as she pushed on Deb’s shoulder to get her head up off the wheel.
“Beth, get the guns ready.”
“Do you think that’s such a good idea?”
“Right now, I don’t think anything is a good idea, but we have no way of knowing if these guys are military at all. Maybe the
y ransacked a military post or maybe they are just acting on their own. You and I both know the military, as we once knew it, no longer exists. So, best case scenario, is that they are a National Guard unit that still adheres to their credo. I’d still like to be prepared though.”
“I sure hope they don’t know how to use that tank,” Beth said, more under her breath as she reached around to the back of the cab and pulled out a .357 Smith and Wesson revolver for Deb. She grabbed the Remington 30-06. She hated the kick it gave but right now, it was all about making a statement. She wasn’t going to give up without a fight. The Jeep approached cautiously; the gunner manned at his mounted machine gun was expecting the worst.
“Do you think they’re scared?” Deb asked to no one in particular.
“As scared as us?” Beth asked as Deb gave her a sideways glance. Beth began to heft the rifle up in preparation to put the muzzle out of the window.
“Beth, I wouldn’t do that. When he sees that barrel, he’s likely to fire. And scared or not, with that many rounds coming in our direction, we’d be sitting ducks.
“Deb, spin this around and let’s get out of here!”
The Jeep was about three hundred yards away when Deb made her choice. She threw the truck in reverse and let the tires squeal as she began to back up. Beth was caught unawares by the blue smoke that rose from one of the tanks. She had little time to wonder what it meant as she watched a dozen or so trees splinter into toothpicks not more than fifty yards to their left.
“I guess that answers the question whether or not they know how to use the tanks! I would imagine that was their version of a warning shot!” Beth said excitedly. Deb’s driving had been something less than perfect and going backwards was not improving her skills. The Jeep was rapidly making progress; it was a mere hundred yards away now.
“Deb, you should probably turn this thing around!” Beth yelled as she watched the gunner cock back on his weapon. “Uh, now! Deb! Please!”
“Stop screaming at me!” Deb yelled as the muscles in her neck began to throb from the quandary they were in. Deb wanted more than anything to spin the truck around like she had seen in so many action movies, but she was afraid she would, more than likely, lay the top-heavy truck on its side, or worse yet, flip it over completely. Neither she nor Beth were wearing their seatbelts and they’d be flung out the doors like rag dolls.
This plan of action wasn’t going to work either; the Jeep would be up on them in moments. The tank fired again but this shot was well clear, more likely so they wouldn’t suffer any friendly fire casualties as opposed to not knowing how to aim the mighty gun.
“Beth, put my seatbelt on and then get yours on!” Deb screamed over the fracturing of trees. Beth looked like she had been slapped, she was stunned and red-faced. “Now Beth!” That got Beth moving. She reached over Deb’s waist and fumbled with the shoulder harness. Trying desperately to put slot A in receptacle B.
“Hurry Beth!”
“I am hurrying!” Beth yelled as she desperately tried to make the two ends meet amidst the bouncing and swerving of the truck. The audible clicking noise was unmistakable, Deb was harnessed in.
“Now you, Beth. Move!” Beth had much more ease getting her belt on in the more familiar fashion.
“Are you ready!”
“Ready for what, Beth?”
Their Dodge Ram had just climbed over the hill as Deb slammed on the brakes. The tires howled in protest. Beth nearly suffered whiplash from the severity of the stop. As it was, she knew she was going to be sore for days to come. Deb threw the truck into drive without completely coming to a stop. The transmission made an audible clunking as it did what it was told, but not without some severe complaining.
“Deb, what are you doing?” Beth said as she grabbed hold of the dashboard. The truck first inched over the hill and then began to gain momentum. All the passengers in the Jeep had been caught unawares as the bigger Dodge truck now began to descend upon them and fast.
The driver reacted instinctually as he slammed on the brakes with both feet. The gunner also did what was instinctual and opened fire. The first few rounds came dangerously close to the front end of the girls’ truck, then the laws of gravity began to take hold. As the nose of the Jeep descended from the inertia of the brakes, so also did the barrel of the M-60 mounted on it.
The gunner’s fingers were completely squeezed on the trigger and, as he held on for his life, he was unable to let go as the barrel fell even more, cutting into the front end of the Jeep. First the radiator popped with an audible swish. Then the fan was next to go as bullets blazed through the blades. The engine block came next as hot lead split the head. Piston parts shot up through the hood almost as hard as the bullets had slammed down.
The gunner most likely would have put a bullet or two through the dashboard if he himself hadn’t been knocked against the gunstock and rendered dazed and confused. Blood trickled from his left ear. The Jeep came to an abrupt stop as the disc brakes and the bullets finally did their job. Hisses and pops were all that could be heard through the ensuing silence as the Jeep’s engine died out.
“Deb, did you plan this!” an excited Beth said as she positioned the barrel of her gun out the window.
“Hell no! I was planning to ram them.” Beth looked over at Deb to see if she was telling the truth or not. It appeared she was, Beth thanked her lucky stars it had turned out this way. Deb brought the truck to a stop not more than two feet from the destroyed grill of the Jeep.
Deb stepped out of the truck and rapidly approached the passenger as she saw him attempting to gain access to something around his shoulder. It had to be a gun, but the still stunned soldier was having a difficult time undoing the snaps. His seatbelt, which restrained him was also restraining the weapon. The precious few seconds he needed to process the information, however, were not his for the taking. Deb ran right up to the passenger side.
“Put your hands on the dashboard now!” she screamed. At first, neither man moved but when Deb cocked the trigger, they both acquiesced. Beth ran out to join her friend, loosely aiming the rifle at the driver.
“Deb, it looks like we’re going to have company soon.” Beth motioned to the roadblock. Two troop transport trucks were now on their way and most likely, filled to the hilt with armed personnel.
“Call them off!” Deb screamed. Neither man moved. Deb put the gun up against the temple of the man closest to her. “Listen, Mister, we might die in the next few minutes, but if you don’t call them off you’re going to die in the next few seconds.” That was more than enough incentive for the lieutenant.
“Sergeant, get on the horn and call those trucks off, now!” he shouted as if he needed to reiterate. The sergeant noted that on his side, the woman had leveled the large bore weapon right on his face. He didn’t need urging from anybody to call the trucks off.
“Blockade One, Blockade One, this is Interceptor Three. I say again, this is Interceptor Three.”
“Go ahead, Interceptor Three, this is Blockade One.”
“Call off the dogs, Blockade One. I say again, call off the dogs.”
“Interceptor Three, dogs one and two are coming to your aid,” the voice crackled over the airwaves.
“Blockade One, if dogs one and two come any closer, they will only have mop-up duty. I say again, call off the dogs!” the sergeant said with some edge to his voice. The trucks were getting dangerously close and the women looked scared. Scared led to unpredictable, and the sergeant wasn’t having anything unpredictable today. The sergeant watched in the rear view mirror as the trucks first slowed and then came to a complete stop, not more than two hundred yards away from them. Men began to pour out of the trucks. Not advancing, but definitely taking an aggressive posture.
“Sergeant O’Bannon,” Deb said as she looked at the sergeant’s nameplate. “Get on the radio and get those trucks out of here!” Deb yelled, panic beginning to rise up in her throat.
“They won’t listen to me. You got them to s
top; they won’t retreat,” the sergeant muttered back. He wished, like his best friend, Barry Watson, that he left his unit when their captain said “Any men who want to be with their families in this time of need, will be granted full immunity. And let no man or woman here think any less of that person if they should decide to go.”
Barry was one of three who decided to turn in their gear to be with their respective families. Most of the men had called them cowards and deserters, Barry had been near to tears over leaving this extended family to protect what was left of his immediate family. Barry’s wife Amelia, and daughter, Andrea, had been shopping in downtown Boston for Andrea’s seventeenth birthday, when the first wave of alien attacks had struck. Barry was left with a fourteen-year-old son and a seven-year-old girl who still had not spoken a word since that fateful day.
At the time, he felt that Barry was betraying his country and worse, his unit, by leaving. He knew that Barry had no one to care for his kids but that didn’t make it any easier on him. Now with a weapon pointed at his head, he wondered if he had done the right thing. His family was still intact, but how would they survive if he died today? His boy was only eight and although he was of hardy stock, he was still only eight. His wife, Meg and son were with his mother and father since the invasion had started. He was going to die today and for what? Border patrol? Brilliant!
“Sergeant! Get those men back on the truck!” Deb screamed in near hysterics. The sergeant looked at his captors for the first time with clear eyes. They were only kids themselves, not some desperados. How hard of a journey had they had? Two women alone in the new frontier, and all the way from where? Colorado! He thought as he scanned the license plate on the front of the truck.
“Listen, they are not going to leave and right now you are both being painted by snipers. Get us out of the Jeep and use us as shields.” The sergeant said.