Aliens Versus Zombies

by Mark Terence Chapman

  “Worse. Aliens.”

  This got Meisner’s attention. “What happened?”

  “Hard to say exactly, but we found them dead with large wounds that appeared to be cauterized by heat—some sort of energy weapon. Obviously not a Zom or human weapon. There were no alien bodies there—I guess someone came and got them—but there was plenty of yellow blood everywhere. Definitely a firefight. Scorch marks on some walls and bullet holes on others. No telling how many they started with, or how many escaped, but there had to be some deaths.”

  “That’s troublin’,” Geoff said. “The aliens now know there’re armed humans about. They may come lookin’ for more. How far away did it happen?”

  “Not far enough, I’m afraid. Maybe a quarter mile west and a bit south of here.”

  “Damn. We’d better beef up our lookouts and have more people on sentry duty, just in case. I don’t know how much good rifles would be against energy weapons, but they might buy us some time so we can evacuate.”

  “I agree, and I recommend we begin evacuating immediately. Have everyone wait in the downstairs lobby, so if we get hit up here they can get out into the subway tunnel ASAP. Have them head up to where it splits off into the Red line and take that north. The alien presence is heaviest in the southern part of the city.”

  “Good idea.”

  “I would guess if they’re coming, it’ll be today or tomorrow. But even if they don’t come now, they’ll get here soon enough. They’re definitely pushing north at a steady rate. It won’t be long before they take the entire city. We’ll have to leave sooner or later. It would be safer to leave sooner, before they find us.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right. Damn. Just when we were getting comf’table here.”

  Daniels shrugged. “Unfortunately, that’s the world we live in. We can’t afford to get comfortable anywhere.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “I think I know a way to even up the odds a little bit more, if I can borrow a few of your people.”

  “Take whatever and whoever you need. I’ll round everyone else up and go over defensive positions and evacuation plans one more time.”

  “Good. Let’s aim to have everyone and as much food as they can comfortably carry ready to go in two hours; no later.”

  “Will do.”

  * * * *

  Daniels gathered his team of six in front of the white board, where he had sketched a diagram of the main lobby level and another one of the lower lobby/train platform level. He also marked the most likely points where the aliens might try to enter the complex.

  “Chrissy, while you were being influenced by that ‘bad crowd’ you mentioned earlier, did you ever learn how to blow stuff up?”

  “Blow—? We weren’t terrorists, Chick, just kids on the grift looking for ways to scrounge up enough money for our next high.”

  “Okay, sorry! I didn’t mean to impugn your upbringing.” He said the latter with a wry smile. “I don’t suppose anyone here has any experience with explosives?”

  He got five shakes of the head. “Okay. I’m not a munitions expert, but when I served in Afghanistan, we all got a crash course in how improvised explosive devices, or IEDs, are made. Some use explosives, like claymore mines or hand grenades, with tripwires, pressure plates, alarm clocks, or other simple triggering mechanisms. We don’t have any explosives here, other than bullets, and we need those for our guns; so those types of IEDs won’t help us. But we also learned how the insurgents made other sorts of explosive or incendiary devices using household chemicals. Everyone with me so far?”

  They all nodded.

  “Good. Fortunately, the janitorial staff here at the convention center had stocked up on lots of industrial-strength cleaning supplies. I’m going to teach you how to safely mix just the right chemicals, in just the right proportions to make several simple but effective weapons to keep the aliens off our trail long enough for us to escape. Everyone ready?”

  A chorus of cheers answered his question.

  “Good. Let’s start with what happens when you mix ammonia and chlorine bleach together.”

  * * * *

  Squad Subregulator ChibNorl rode in one of three vehicles patrolling the area looking for more of those MemKar-damned indies that had killed his men the day before. Platoon Regulator BlexJasp hadn’t been pleased by that one little bit. He’d gotten chewed out by his superior, and in turn had chewed out ChibNorl for not having his men alert enough to have made short work of the situation.

  Projectile weapons, of all things! Who expected that? How could those wild animals possibly operate anything more complicated than a knife or a rock?

  It was slow going, checking every building, big or small, to root out nesting indigenes. Gone were the days when Drahtch patrols just traveled up and down the streets waiting for indigenes to come screaming at them from wherever they had been hiding. Now that most of the creatures had been killed or herded to the other end of the city, the remaining stragglers were mostly easy pickings, with only the occasional negative encounter—such as yesterday’s.

  The new orders were to scour the immediate area for any more of the “smart” indigenes that might be armed.

  ChibNorl would be damned if he’d get chewed out again on account of these damned indies.

  * * * *

  Daniels reported back to Geoff Meisner on the defensive plans put in place.

  “We’re ready to go. It’s time to get everyone down to the lower lobby and out of the line of fire. It might not be as luxurious down there as up here, but it’ll be a damn sight safer. If the aliens come a-knockin’ it could happen at any time, and it’ll get loud in a hurry.”

  * * * *

  Despite assertions to BlexJasp about how the men would be on high alert this patrol, ChibNorl was bored. After several hours of door-to-door searches, with nothing to show for it, ChibNorl had to fight the urge to yawn. Finally, they reached the end of the street. Directly ahead was a large complex. One tall tower amid two short, wide buildings.

  There was nothing especially noteworthy about that, except it appeared pristine. Not a single window was broken, and the doors were closed. If not for some abandoned vehicles in front, it could have been the poster child for modern indigene architecture.

  With the structure intact, it was possible that indigenes lurked inside—maybe a lot of them. With a feeling of anticipation that dispelled the boredom of a moment ago, he directed the driver to pull up as close as possible to the entrance.

  Interestingly, this building had barriers by the street, making it impossible to bring vehicles close to the building itself. That meant a relatively long walk from the street to the doors. A long, exposed walk, should there be any indigenes inside with projectile weapons aimed at ChibNorl and his men.

  Although he had no reason to believe that was the case, he had to assume it was. He signaled one of his vehicles to continue on to the entrance of the low building to the left, and the other to the low building to the right. They would all converge inside the building directly behind the main entrance in the center.

  The three teams ran in a zigzag pattern for the respective entrances, weapons at the ready. They reached the revolving door without incident. ChibNorl tried to push the door open, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “Step back,” he ordered.

  He spotted the key lock adjacent to the door and blasted it with his weapon. It melted, rather than exploding in tiny shards. He tried the door again. It still didn’t budge. He turned up the intensity in his weapon and shot again. This time the lock blew apart.

  He waved five of his men into the first segment of the door and they pushed the door forward to let the remaining four in.

  Then something unexpected happened.

  Balanced atop one of the glass dividers separating the two segments were two one-gallon plastic bottles of liquid with the tops cut off. One contained ammonia and the other chlorine bleach. When the door moved, the two bottles tipped over onto the soldiers. The
liquid splashed and combined to form hydrochloric acid and chloramine gas—one highly corrosive and the other toxic.

  Fumes burned their eyes and mucous membranes and the acid burned down the length of their bodies. The men screamed in pain. The resulting confusion caused a moment’s hesitation when they should have pushed forward. That was their undoing.

  One man collapsed and blocked the door from turning further. Then the rest were overpowered by the fumes and collapsed. Their skin sizzled from droplets of acid as they died.

  ChibNorl, in the segment behind them, watched aghast as his men died in agony.

  “Back, back, back!” he yelled to the others.

  They jumped out of the segment and back onto the pavement outside.

  Wild-eyed, ChibNorl stopped to catch his breath and take stock of the situation. More screams emanated from the squads at the other entrances.

  He used his communicator to call back the other men, and then he signaled his team to return to the vehicles.

  Out of the twenty-seven men who had attempted to enter the building, thirteen died within seconds.

  Clearly, these weren’t the usual brain-dead indigenes.

  Then it hit ChibNorl: thirteen dead and they hadn’t even seen a damn indie yet.

  * * * *

  “Come on, hurry it up!” Daniels waved the last of the residents of The Castle through the revolving doors and onto the subway platform. They followed the others along the tracks.

  Now only Daniels’ team remained behind.

  Jesse came running. “Man, those bleach bombs of yours are some nasty stuff. I took a peek at the aliens tryin’ to get in.” He shook his head. “They ain’t comin’ in through those doors, I’ll tell you that!”

  Daniels should have been happy that his first line of defense had been so successful. But he’d seen what chloramine gas could do to a human soldier. It wasn’t something he’d wish on anyone—but this was war, and they were seriously outgunned and outmanned.

  He just hoped his other booby-traps were as successful.

  * * * *

  This mission clearly required another. The front entrances were out of the question. Most likely, any side or rear entrances were similarly protected and they had no way to directly reach the roof. The next best approach was through the windows, but not the ground floor windows. Too obvious and too likely to be booby-trapped.

  ChibNorl looked upward, and spotted a literal “window of opportunity.”

  He and the thirteen remaining troops ran up to the extended breezeway roof that protected visitors from the elements when entering from the street, since it was so far from the entrance. The men helped each other up onto the roof and they ran to the second-floor window above the breezeway.

  ChibNorl fired at the window, expecting it to shatter as easily as the hundreds of others he and his men had blasted in pursuit of indies. Instead, the fired charge deflected backward off the reflective energy-efficient window glass and hit one of his men in the chest, killing him instantly.

  MemKar damn it! I really hate these damned indies!

  Closer inspection revealed some charring of one of the sheets of polycarbonate layered between the panes of glass.

  “All right. Everyone stand to the left. Turn your weapons up to maximum power and tight focus. On my mark, we’ll all fire at this spot.” He pointed to his right at an angle.

  “Ready? Now!”

  Fourteen gouts of energy stuck one small area of glass at once. Bulletproof glass is tough, but it wasn’t designed withstand that much energy. Within a few milliseconds, the glass and polycarbonate heated up to several thousand degrees. When the window shattered, it did so explosively, sending large chunks of glass inward like missiles.

  After giving the window a few seconds to cool, the soldiers rappelled down to the lobby and were ready for action.

  “You seven go that way. Start at the bottom and work your way up. Shoot anything that moves. The rest of you follow me.”

  * * * *

  Chrissy left the kitchen through the back door, careful to close it behind her, and ran along the service corridor toward the lower lobby. It wouldn’t take long for the gas to build up from the six ovens, sans pilot lights.

  At the same time, Jesse finished his task at the top of escalators. He ran down the last one and tossed the empty plastic jugs aside. Then he joined Daniels on the subway platform.

  Once Chrissy arrived in the lobby and exited, it was up to Moose to apply the finishing touches. He tipped over the 55-gallon plastic drum in front of the revolving door facing the escalators. The clear liquid glug-glug-glugged its way across the marble floor, creating a large thin pool in front of the door. Moose kicked the drum aside and stepped into the revolving door. As he stepped out the other side, he poured another gallon of the liquid onto the floor inside the revolving door chamber. When he exited, Daniels locked the door behind him.

  Their preparations were complete. The quartet hot-footed it down the tunnel.

  * * * *

  The team of seven worked their way toward the kitchen, clearing room after room along the way. The door to the kitchen was open at the end of the darkened hallway. They hurried forward, ready to blast anyone who might be in there. They had already lost too many of their friends this day. They weren’t about to lose any more.

  In their hurry, they didn’t pay attention to the sticky goo on the floor, nor the acrid stench; nor did they see the monofilament tripwire near the floor. As soon as the first soldier knocked the thread loose, it released a spring just in front of the doorway ahead. The spring caused a cardboard “Welcome NMSHS Class of 2003!” sign to pop out from against the wall. In the soldiers’ heightened state of alert, the sudden movement caused two of the soldiers to fire.

  The gas emanating from the kitchen ovens ignited, creating an explosion and fireball. With the door at the back of the kitchen closed, there was only one direction all of the flame and heat could go. It blasted down the hallway and blew the soldiers off their feet and onto the goo.

  The goo—made by dissolving foam packing peanuts in gasoline—ignited. Once on fire, it burned like napalm.

  The five soldiers who weren’t killed by the blast itself suffered a horrible, agonizing death.

  * * * *

  The floor rumbled a split second before ChibNorl’s ears registered the roar of the explosion. It probably meant bad news for his men, but he couldn’t take the time to check on them right now. That would have to wait until he finished clearing this part of the building.

  The marble flooring ahead was shiny in the light of their helmet-mounted lights. Beyond the marble, four escalators awaited.

  The soldiers didn’t notice the small shiny puddles of vegetable oil just in front of the escalators.

  Their boots slipped and slid. The first four men reached the four escalators almost simultaneously, three of them head-first and one feet first. They tumbled down the hard metal stairs.

  Two arrived at the bottom with broken bones, landing in the puddles of drain cleaner dissolved in chlorine bleach left behind by Hector. As the resulting hydrochloric acid burned through their uniforms and their skin, they attempted to brush it off with their hands. This made matters worse, burning the flesh off their hands. They screamed in agony.

  A third stopped quickly on the escalator and was lucky to only wrench his back when he fell onto the steel steps. The fourth sprained his wrist and banged his knee hard enough that he would have a limp for hours.

  The other three, seeing all of this happen just in front of them, attempted to stop. They, too, slipped on the oil; but, forewarned, were able to grab onto the hard rubber rails on the sides of the escalators with their free hands. Unfortunately for them, the rails were coated in slippery dishwashing liquid.

  ChibNorl slipped and fell backward. The other two fell on their backs and thumped down the escalator that way, a painful process.

  ChibNorl stood, seething at how those MemKar-damned indies had gotten the upper hand yet ag
ain.

  All of his men writhed on the floor below, or groaned on the escalator.

  “Oh, get up! They must have gotten out that way.” He pointed at the revolving door.

  Then he carefully slid down the stainless steel divider between two of the escalators. The two men at the bottom were out of commission and half dead. He had no time to help them. He had to make the indigenes who were responsible for this pay with their lives.

  The other four were fit for duty, if banged up. The quintet started toward the revolving door, then stopped at the sight of the large puddle between them and the door. ChibNorl smelled the sour tang of acid.

  “Not again,” he muttered to himself.

  He directed his men to go around the puddle and toward one of the back windows. “Maximum power, tight focus. Right here.”

  They all fired at the same spot. With only five weapons firing, it took longer to reach the failure point of the bulletproof glass, but eventually it shattered outward. The five jumped through onto the platform outside.

  ChibNorl stood stock still as he surveyed the subway tunnel to the left. Visibility was limited in the light his helmet emitted. He looked to the right. Nothing moved there either.

  Which way to go?

  It didn’t matter. A second later a rifle bullet blew his brains all over the outside wall of The Castle. Three other shots took out three more soldiers. Then two nearly simultaneous shots killed the last one.

  “Nice of them to put lights on the primary targets for us,” Daniels said.

  Forty yards down the tunnel to the left, he and the rest of his team waited to see if anyone else emerged. After a minute with no one emerging or shooting back, they warily worked their way back to the subway platform. They briefly checked the bodies for signs of life. Finding none, they entered through the shattered window and did the same. Seeing the two moving on the floor, Daniels pulled his pistol and dispatched them with barely a thought.