Aliens Versus Zombies

by Mark Terence Chapman

  Joanie handed the launcher—loaded with a rocket—up to her. Then Joanie climbed up with Julia to help support the front of the launcher.

  After a few seconds of jostling while the two women got into position, Julia said, “Hold it right there. Perfect. Just a sec…”

  She got target lock and held it steady. The jolt of the rocket launch threw her off balance. She fell off the back of the SUV and landed on her back hard enough to knock the breath out of her. The launcher smacked the ground.

  But from that position, she had a perfect view of the rocket impact against the building. Although it hit the wall, rather than the window, the results were impressive. The windows on the four sides shattered outward an instant before the walls blew. Then the peaked roof of the building tilted, slid, and then crashed down onto the street below. The impact was followed by much screaming and wailing.

  Joanie jumped down off the roof and helped Julia stand, gingerly, holding her back.

  “Thanks. I’ll-I’ll be fine. Let’s go find somewhere else to shoot from.”

  She picked up the launcher, noticing some scrapes and dings, and hoped it was intact enough to fire. If a circuit board had cracked the launcher would be useless. If the rocket jammed in the tube and exploded inside the launcher…

  * * * *

  Several craft on the ground powered up their engines, preparing to lift off.

  Moose couldn’t decide which target to fire on. Then the seeker spotted the incoming attack flight.

  He decided to take out one of them instead. He waited until the flight got closer before firing. Because of that, he was the last to fire off his first shot.

  It was spectacular. He targeted the lead ship and squeezed the trigger. Then he watched the trail of flame and smoke track the ship.

  It took less than two seconds to reach its target. The ship exploded in a brilliant fireball that lit up the entire area for several seconds. Shrapnel and debris flew in every direction, some of it almost reaching the building he was standing atop. More importantly, some flew up and backward, striking the second ship and causing it to lose control. The carcass of the destroyed ship continued forward as it fell. It crashed in the middle of the landing area, damaging several other ships around it. The second ship impacted on the east side of the park, crashing into a seven-story office building and exploding. Debris from the ship and the building rained down on the crowd ringing the park.

  The third ship, apparently following the trail of smoke, fired at the building, striking it on the second floor. Bricks and debris exploded outward, creating a cloud of dust and smoke that momentarily.

  The explosion knocked Moose from his feet.

  “Shit!”

  He scrambled to his feet, remembered to grab the launcher, and ran for the door hoping to reach it before the alien fired again. He had just reached the top of the stairs when the rooftop exploded behind him with a green glow from the second shot. The force of the explosion hurled Moose down the stairs, where he hit the far wall and crumpled to the floor, unmoving.

  * * * *

  As soon as he saw/heard/felt the first explosion, FronCar ran back toward the command center. He hadn’t gotten more than a few paces away when a rocket flew into the barracks behind him and detonated, tossing him like a child’s toy. He landed in a heap twenty paces from where he’d been. At this moment, he really regretted that the viceroy hadn’t taken his recommendation to bombard the planet from orbit.

  * * * *

  Moose groaned and picked himself up. It took a moment for his head to clear before he could make himself pick up the launcher and stumble down the stairs. By the time he was fully lucid again, he’d reached the door and retrieved the duffel he’d left there with the other two Stingers and his night-vision goggles. After donning the goggles, he jogged at the best pace his sore shoulder and strained muscles would allow, looking for another spot to fire from.

  This time, however, it wouldn’t be from a rooftop. That third ship was still up there looking for him.

  * * * *

  FronCar raised himself to his hands and knees with difficulty. His back hurt like he’d been kicked by a Greater Blarin. He reached around to feel, and found several pieces of shrapnel protruding. They were small and he pulled them out, enduring the pain. The bleeding was minor. He decided to ignore it for the time being. If there was still shrapnel where he couldn’t reach, he’d deal with that later. Right now, he needed to get to the command center to make sure they got power back up. If he couldn’t communicate with his soldiers and pilots, he was useless.

  That’s a feeling he never wanted to have.

  * * * *

  Jason ran down a back alley in the general direction of where Daniels had parked the Jilt. He rounded the corner. Four aliens trotted away from him, side by side.

  Even though he’d been expressly warned to avoid all contact with the enemy, unless unavoidable, he saw this as an opportunity to strike another blow for freedom.

  He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out the M576 Buckshot Round, designed for close-quarters combat. Then he inserted it into the M203 under-barrel grenade launcher attached to his assault weapon. He’d been itching to try it out.

  He ran after the aliens as quietly as possible to close the gap. Before he got within twenty yards, one of the aliens must have heard something, because he turned his head to look over his shoulder.

  He said something to the others and they all came to a stop and turned. Jason stopped as well, heart pounding, thinking, “This is it. You can do it.”

  He shifted his grip from the gun to the grenade launcher, raised the weapon, and pulled the trigger an instant before one of the aliens did.

  Two things happened almost instantaneously: One, the twenty metal pellets contained within the M576 round exploded outward as if from a shotgun, shredding the two aliens in the middle and seriously wounding the others; and two, the top of Jason’s head blew off.

  He would have turned sixteen in three days.

  * * * *

  Tim huffed and puffed to a stop behind a panel truck. A trio of aliens crossed the street ahead of him. It was getting harder to avoid being seen. At least he had the night-vision goggles. It would be hard for them to sneak up on him.

  As soon as he was sure they were gone, he eased his way out and crept up to the corner of the building ahead, to see if anyone else was coming. The coast was clear and he dashed across. He heard a commotion up ahead and hurried to see what was going on. When he reached the next corner, he saw something straight out of Dante’s Inferno: the flaming wreck of the alien ship that Moose had winged with shrapnel, buildings on fire, wreckage strewn everywhere.

  It was at once horrifying and satisfying to see.

  But he didn’t have time for gawking. He needed to find another target. He got the launcher and his second rocket ready to go. Then he used the thermal sight to scan the area for targets. This was made more difficult by all the fires within range. The goggles helped a little, but not much. The other ships in the landing area were beyond his reach. He went back to thermal and scanned the buildings.

  There! On the ground floor of one of the buildings was a hotspot, a heat source. He didn’t know what the target was, but the Serpent locked onto it. He fired and the rocket jetted out of the launcher, straight at the target.

  An instant later, a flash and another ground-shaking explosion signaled success.

  He smiled, dropped the no longer needed launcher, grabbed his assault rifle, and turned back toward the Jilt.

  * * * *

  FronCar hadn’t gotten more than halfway to the command center when a blinding flash struck it and it exploded. So much for his power source. So much for his command center.

  He reversed course and ran, instead, toward the landing area. If he could find an undamaged ship, he could use its communication gear. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? Stupid!

  There was no point in castigating himself now. He could do that later after he’d elimin
ated the threat to his people.

  * * * *

  Moose stood on the back of a dump truck full of sand. The footing was precarious, but it gave him enough height that he could see over the wrecked vehicles blocking the way in front of him. He scanned the sky for ships, hoping to find the attack ship that had shot at him. Or, failing that, a big fat cargo ship to bring down.

  “Where are you, you mother— Ah, I see you now.”

  He had the advantage8. Sure, the attack ship was fast and maneuverable, but it was the only thing in the sky. It was easy to find. Moose, on the other hand, was invisible to radar, and even though he could be targeted by IR or UV, the pilot didn’t know where to look for him. There were thousands of aliens running around like chickens with their heads chopped off. For all he knew, Moose might be one of them. The pilot would have to get close enough for a visual and Moose didn’t intend for him to live that long.

  He took his second missile from the duffel, inserted it into the launcher, and got the weapon ready. It locked onto the ship. As soon as the ship was in optimum range, he pulled the trigger.

  The missile lanced up through the night sky. The pilot evidently saw the missile coming in time to take evasive maneuvers and eject some sort of decoy, but it was too late. The Stinger hit the decoy and exploded prematurely, but it was close enough to the alien ship that the shrapnel shredded the near side of the ship. It heeled over and crashed somewhere in midtown.

  “That’s three of you with two shots! How’d ya like them apples?” He did a brief, if awkward, jig in the sand pile.

  “Got one more for ya. Anyone for a Stinger enema?” He laughed at his own joke, and then jumped down. He added the launcher to the duffel containing his final Stinger, threw it over his shoulder, and swaggered off into the night, whistling a happy tune.

  * * * *

  Daniels decided to risk getting closer to the population center to see if he’d have more target options. Hiram trotted happily along at his side. He knew it was risky, with all the aliens searching high and low for their attackers, but at this point he didn’t care. When you expect to die at any moment, you stop worrying about how or when it might happen. A sniper could pick him off from a distance and he’d never even know he was being targeted.

  When he’d gotten as close as he dared, he loaded his last Serpent and looked for targets. He, too, had trouble picking a viable target amid all the flames in the area. He told himself to ignore the brightest ones, because they were probably just fires. Look for the more subdued ones.

  He eventually resorted to going back and forth between the thermal sight and the night-vision goggles to give him a better overall picture of the area. He scanned the area for several minutes, before picking a target. It appeared to be a large crowd massed together. Soldiers or civilians, he couldn’t say. Maybe both. But he was way past caring which it was. Now, in his mind, they were all enemy combatants of one sort or another.

  Maybe he would rot in Hell for this, but at least he was taking a stand in the face of overwhelming odds. This was his way of telling those damned aliens that humanity wouldn’t just bend over and take it in the ass from the invaders.

  He took a deep breath, let it out, and squeezed. The rocket shot forward and exploded in less than half a second. By then Daniels had already dropped the launcher. It was time to leave. The screams and cries of the survivors coming from behind him chilled his soul, but his penance was to force himself to listen to every second of it.

  He gripped his assault weapon and began to run. Hiram chased and passed him, leading the way.

  * * * *

  Julia and Joanie reached their next vantage point and set up. Julia scanned the area ahead for targets. She vacillated between viable targets. The fires burning everywhere didn’t help.

  She finally chose a target and fired.

  After hearing all of the screams of pain and panic for the last fifteen minutes or so, she was emotionally numb. As a naturally caring person—a nurse before the apocalypse—intentionally causing pain went against her very nature. But she’d been forced beyond the breaking point. If the Zoms and the aliens were going to murder everyone she knew and cared for, by George she’d put a stop to it.

  But now, she just wanted it to be over. Maybe the aliens would leave them alone after this.

  She knew better. If anything, they’d be even more determined to wipe humanity out.

  Unencumbered by the heavy rockets, Julia and Joanie fielded their assault weapons and ran for the Jilt.

  * * * *

  Aboard the fleet command ship, JorGov, Subcommander for Communications approached Viceroy CresNal and cleared his throat. “Sir?”

  “Yes, subcommander?” The viceroy had just finished a soothing massage in his quarters and was in a good mood. He really didn’t want any bad news to spoil the afterglow.

  “We lost contact with the city below a while ago. I’ve been unable to reestablish contact with anyone down there. And now sensors are indicating explosions and fires in the city.”

  “Explosions? Fires? Not good. Not good at all. Report your findings to Commander JesBronn.”

  “Um, sir, he’s on the surface, too.”

  CresNal sighed as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Do I have to do all the thinking around here? Report to whoever is third in command of the troops. And have him send some ships down for a closer look. And have them take a comm system with them, in case it’s needed.”

  “Yes, sir!” JorGov snapped off a salute-nod, turned, and left.

  But it was too late. CresNal’s good mood had already soured. Maybe he’d have another massage.

  * * * *

  Moose was the only one left with a projectile to fire, but he’d known from the beginning that he’d be the last one out because he had one more than anyone else. He accepted that. For him, the satisfaction of doing something good for the world, for mankind, far outweighed the danger he faced. He’d been a bad person in his youth, and he’d been trying to make amends ever since. Now, he always tried to do the right thing. Sometimes it was difficult to know what the right thing was, but he tried.

  However, here, tonight, he was certain what the right thing to do was and that was to kill aliens and help defend his planet. If he had to die a glorious death in the process, so be it.

  It was time to find his final target.

  * * * *

  FronCar reached the landing area and searched for an attack ship that appeared undamaged. It took longer than he’d liked. The first few he checked all seemed to have some sort of damage.

  Finally, he found one and entered. It had been a long time since he’d had the pleasure—or time—to fly one. He welcomed the opportunity, if not the reason for it.

  It had been several minutes since the last shot had been fired. It looked like the attack was over, but he’d be MemKar-damned if he’d let the perpetrators escape unscathed.

  He donned the helmet/HUD, and fired up the engine. Once aloft, he’d have a view of the entire “battlefield,” although “killing field” was probably more accurate. As far as he knew, no one had spotted the attackers yet, let alone fired a shot; so it was hard to call this a battle. A slaughter was more like it.

  With a better idea of what was going on, he could relay orders to the soldiers on the ground through their individual communicators.

  The helmet scanned his eyes to see which virtual controls projected on the inside of the helmet he looked at. This allowed him to keep his hands free to operate the other aspects of the ship, including weapons.

  After he stared briefly at the controls for power and then lift angle, lifted the fighter off the ground.

  In a few minutes, he would be back in control of the situation.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Daniels maintained a steady jog through the streets of the city. A few more minutes and he might even get out of this alive.

  He ran through an intersection just as an alien vehicle full of soldiers turned onto the street
he was crossing. A shout told him he’d been seen.

  He looked for some sort of cover. There! Up ahead was a porch stoop made of concrete. Perfect.

  He ducked behind it, and readied his M16A4 rifle for burst mode. Then he loaded an M433 grenade into the grenade launcher.

  As soon as the vehicle rounded the corner, he sighted, acquired, and fired.

  The vehicle exploded in a shower of shrapnel and body parts.

  Daniels started to get up. A green blast hit the other side of the stoop, sending a spray of concrete chips and dust into the air. He dropped back below the top of the stoop. Another blast hit the other side.

  He snatched a quick peek around one of the steps to see what he was up against. Two aliens fired at him from behind the flaming debris. They couldn’t get any closer, but he couldn’t leave his spot without exposing himself. Using the M16 itself now, he snapped off a three-round burst at one of the aliens, and then the other. That forced them to take cover.

  Daniels began to sweat. They had him pinned down and they could afford to wait for reinforcements. He didn’t have that luxury.

  He fired two more bursts in their direction to keep them honest. He didn’t have unlimited ammo; a few minutes of this and he’d be down to his pistol and knife. Well, he did have two buckshot rounds for the grenade launcher, but their effective range was way too limited for this fight. Unless the aliens got closer, he couldn’t use them. Why hadn’t he brought more than one grenade?

  * * * *