Stranded

by William Vitka

  The Alpha shudders. Whips around. Digs its pincers into Doc’s ribs.

  It lifts him, bleeding.

  Doc howls. Keeps one hand on the chewing chainsaw. Puts another seven bullets down the big bad burrower’s throat with his free hand. Keeps pulling the trigger till the slide locks back.

  The Alpha hisses, “Kill you.” It breathes in ragged gasps through its broken face. “You not stop Hroza. Not stop uprising. Not stop parasite.”

  Doc hisses back with a mouthful of blood. “Better hope you kill me.” He spits into the Alpha’s maw. Pulls the Stihl free. “I got a lot more work to do.”

  Doc slams the chainsaw into the monster’s head.

  The Alpha recoils. Spreads its enormous jaws and moves Doc’s legs to ingest them.

  Fwap.

  Dust bursts in Doc’s face.

  Then Doc falls. Lands on his back. Winces.

  He looks down at his chest. Sees the Alpha’s pincers still embedded in his ribs. The edges end in smoke.

  Doc pulls the chitinous things from him. Grits his teeth. Feels the serrated edges rub against bone and tissue. He kicks at the grey husk under his feet. The withered, evaporated shape that used to be the Alpha.

  He sees Gordy. Standing. Panting. Severed hand and palm blaster held tight against the dripping muscle and veins where it used to belong.

  Gordy smiles at Doc. Says, “Still works.”

  His eyes roll back in his head and he collapses.

  Doc stands. Drops the chainsaw. Wants to reload the 1911, but he’s got no ammo. He digs in his tattered jacket. He’s got one bullet left. He pops it down into the chamber and releases the slide.

  Doc leans over Rubin. Rubs the dog’s head. “Almost done.”

  Rubin’s eyes are glassy. Tired.

  Doc hobbles to Gordy. The guy’s pulse is still going. Strong. He slaps Gordy’s face. Tries to bring him around.

  Gordy blinks. Nods. He raises the palm blaster again. Heats it up and turns it on his stump.

  Doc hears flesh sizzling as the Gordy cauterizes the wound of his snipped arm.

  Then Gordy’s out again.

  Doc pats Gordy’s cheeks. Sighs.

  Kid’s gonna be out for a while.

  Doc reaches into his pocket for a cigarette. Pulls one out. Sticks it between his lips. Lights it and inhales. “This is how we die.” He hobbles again. To his dog. He cradles Rubin. Slumps against the consoles. “Best you can get,” he says, dropping his cigarette and sticking his nose against Rubin’s snout as the canine licks out in its own show of love, “is maybe someone holds you. Or remembers you.”

  Bugs climbs back down into the control sphere. “I have stopped the alarm. The signal will not go out.”

  Doc says nothing.

  Bugs walks over to Gordy. Looks. Says without any emotion: “He will survive.”

  Doc strokes Rubin’s muzzle. “What about Winston. Kong. Mags. Mosshart. Ackerman. The people who lived in Wiseman. The soldiers in the mud. What about them?” Doc reaches for the cigarette he dropped. It’s still smoking. He puffs on it. “I’m real sick of people dying cuz of your fuckup.”

  Bugs says, “I will fix it.”

  Doc says, “It’s very hard not to kill you.”

  74.

  Wile E. fights to wrangle the Hroza.

  Tries to keep its rampaging feet away from the humans below.

  It says, over and over: Kill you kill you kill you kill you. Bring family back.

  He wants to stop it.

  But he can’t.

  75.

  Miller and his men crouch just feet from the Humvees. The minguns’ve run out. There’s no more cover from the turrets. Just assault rifle fire that punches into the bodies and heads of the swarm of burrowers. Even that’s gonna go dry soon.

  Miller hears a metallic tink behind him.

  Something that hit the roof of one of the vehicles.

  A ladder to the Huey hovering above.

  Fiske is there. Screaming out the pilot door. “Let’s go guys.”

  Miller sends five bullets into the face of the nearest burrower. Shouts to his operators: “Get the fuck up. We are leaving.”

  He throws a frag grenade into the line of burrowers.

  Can a Huey fit more than a dozen men?

  Fuck it.

  Soldiers climb up the Humvees. Grab the rope ladder and hustle.

  Miller decides he’ll go last. He can’t lose another guy. He rolls three grenades. Puts bullets into the alien insect flood till the last of his operators are clinging to the rope ladder rungs.

  The burrowers make a grab for him.

  They miss.

  Fiske moves the Huey up and over the office to pick up the two gunners there. A burrower bursts from the ground. It tries to clamp on to Miller, but the lieutenant’s hauling ass up the ladder.

  Miller says to his operators: “Man the guns. Kill everything. And get me on the horn with General Anderson.” He moves up beside Fiske. “Kid, you have really good goddamn timing.”

  “That’s what I tell all the girls, sir.” Fiske works to keep the Huey steady. Too much fuckin weight, but the workhorse Huey can handle it. For a few minutes.

  They drop. The two gunners from the airport office scurry up the ladder.

  Fiske says, “What’s the plan?”

  Miller says, “Pull us out.

  “We’re gonna nuke the site from orbit.”

  76.

  Wile E. watches the Huey turn.

  He smiles.

  Salutes the humans even though the humans can’t see it.

  The Hroza roars. Angry. Frustrated. It’s got the pilot fighting its movements. It’s got the pilot plugged into its nervous system. Keeping it from rushing on and crushing that Huey like an empty soda can.

  The Hroza whips its tentacles out in every direction.

  It plunges them down into the dirt where the burrowers are still crawling. Grabs a few and munches on them.

  Cuz it wants to.

  Cuz it’s been thwarted and just needs to devour and spread chaos now.

  Genocidal blue balls.

  Wile E. says, This is where it ends, Hroza. I knew it was a mistake to tame you.

  The Hroza says, There are more of us. We have such wonderful things to show you.

  77.

  Doc walks back to the hallway. He slips his arms around Swift. Gets the site manager back up on his good foot.

  Swift says, “I gotta call my kids.”

  “You will, man. You will.”

  “Thought I was gonna die.”

  “Not yet.”

  78.

  Bugs brings the ship up.

  Doc and Swift can see it all through the Cukr’Prsou’s viewscreen.

  Rubin lays motionless in Doc’s lap.

  The trees fall away. The rocky, snowy landscape turns into a post card.

  Doc doesn’t know how high they are.

  He smokes his cigarette and watches.

  79.

  Wile E. sees the shadow fall over the airport.

  A giant dark circle pulsing blue at its edges.

  The Hroza sees it too. Tries to run.

  Wile E. holds it in place. He says, Here is where your fun ends.

  80.

  Miller looks out from the open doors of the Huey.

  The alien ship soars. Moved by means he can’t even guess at.

  It levels itself. Starts to hum. Its saucer edges glow. Pulse.

  Miller grabs Fiske’s shoulder. “Get us out of here.”

  81.

  Bugs primes the Cukr’Prsou’s main cannon.

  It’ll destroy everything within a half mile.

  The pilot looks down through the forward viewscreen. Sees Wile E. riding the Hroza like a bucking bronco.

  Bugs still wants his soldier’s go ahead. Wants the approval of a trooper he has condemned to death.

  82.

  Doc watches Wile E. salute.

  He grips Rubin’s still form.

  Swift say
s, “Adios.”

  83.

  Bugs nods.

  He hears Wile E.’s voice: Do it.

  84.

  The ship hovers over Guzman and Sastre. Over Alpha, Charlie, Echo and Zulu. Some huge alien thing blocking out the sun.

  Guzman watches rings of energy envelop the ship then streak toward the bottom tip of the spherical control room.

  Guzman screams into this headset: “All teams, pull out now. Right fuckin now.”

  The gunships fly.

  85.

  Miller covers his eyes.

  The alien ship shakes the air. Glows. Vibrates with such intensity that the men in the Huey duck against each other.

  Light shines along its ridges. Moves down its saucer shape. Along the control room. Along its yellow globe.

  A blue-yellow beam shoots down. Into the ground. It explodes outward in a huge sphere.

  burrowers and tumors and spiders and flytraps caught in it.

  The envelope of death consumes everything.

  A great ball of destruction.

  One that nips at the Huey’s tail rotor.

  Fiske curses and screams while he tries to keep the gunship upright.

  86.

  The Hroza feels death pour over it.

  Feels the beam of energy cut through it.

  87.

  Wile E. throws his arms out.

  88.

  Doc stands before the viewscreen.

  He shouts: “Fuck you.”

  89.

  The world goes blue. There’s a crack and an otherworldly scream.

  The black silhouette of the Hroza crumbles and shatters in an ocean of energy.

  Then there is perfect silence.

  Nothing stirs below the alien saucer.

  90.

  Bugs lowers the ship over what remains of Wiseman’s airport. A burnt shell of landscape. A blasted heath. There’s nothing but smoking ridges and ashen carcasses tossed up by the blast. Even the Hroza is just dust in the wind.

  Doc stares. Grimaces as he carries Rubin’s body along the alien craft’s extended landing ramp. It slides out and down from the yellow dome like a metal tongue.

  Bugs and Gordy follow him at a distance—but Gordy’s different now. More serene. Acting like the pilot’s deputy. Or dog.

  The alien and the human help Swift walk.

  Swift looks like he’s ready to take a swing at Bugs. If only he had the energy.

  Gunships circle the white snow to the south, beyond the destruction. The Chinook settles. Viper pilots land and jump from their cockpits. Their machines close to shutting down for good. Shitloads of emergency maintenance is due.

  There’s no high-five bullshit.

  The smoking mess of a Viper with no landing skids wobbles near em.

  Doc wonders how the fuck they plan to land. Or if they’re just gonna bail out. Parachute. Lie to the military brass: Well, sorry, aliens got it.

  Rubin’s little body is too heavy to think about much.

  The skid-less Viper descends. Slow. Till its belly touches the ground. Men run from the Chinook carrying slats. They prop em up against the helicopter’s sides.

  Doc sets Rubin’s body down. Falls back against the ground. He stares at the sky. Searches for a cigarette. Wishes the death beam hadn’t evaporated the airport office and whatever remained of the booze inside.

  Swift lands on his ass next to him. “Shit, man. Everything hurts.”

  Doc grunts.

  Swift sighs. He stares at the giant alien ship. “I’m sorry about Rubin.”

  Doc doesn’t say anything. He holds the husky’s body. Plays his fingers along the dog’s fur. Too numb and pissed to cry.

  Gordy stands with them. Silent.

  Doc says to Gordy: “If you ain’t takin a picture then fuck off.” Panting. Real close to the edge now. “We gotta talk to Miller. Figure out what we’re doing here.”

  Too close to the edge.

  Doc’s breaking. At the end of it all. If he starts crying now, he won’t be able to stop.

  “I’m going with the pilot,” Gordy says.

  Swift says, “You fuckin crazy, dumbass? You see what they’ve done in just a couple days.”

  Gordy says, “Someone’s gotta. One of us has to go back with them.”

  Doc says, “Like it fucking matters.”

  Gordy says, “Doc, I’m gonna do what I can do.”

  “Fuckin idiot.” Doc coughs and waves his hand.

  Doc looks to Bugs. Thinks about the Colt. One round left. He sniffs his nose. Knows he can put a bullet through the alien’s brain. Cuz he wants to. If he covers his thoughts.

  He pulls the M1911. Points it right at the blue bastard’s face. “Don’t ever come back. Don’t even glance in our direction.”

  Long as the asshole stays quiet. Long as Bugs just turns around. Walks away. Doesn’t say a fuckin thing. Walk away walk away walk away. The untrustworthy piece of shit.

  Doc and Bugs stare at each other. One heartbeat. Two.

  Bugs knows if he goes after Doc, the other humans’ll cut him down without question. The military’s still in town.

  "We may have to," the pilot says. “We make amends. Fix—”

  Doc looks at Rubin’s body. He frowns. Looks back to the alien. “Not good enough.”

  He pulls the trigger.

  Bugs’s head explodes. The bullet rips through the pilot’s jaw. Shatters bones. Up through its disc-shaped head. There’s a volcano of yellow blood.

  Doc exhales through his nose.

  Swift stares.

  Gordy knew it was coming. Knew Doc was gonna doom Earth. Just... knew. Now everything he’s gotta do will be that much harder. Gordy says, “You idiot. I still have to go back. I have to take the ship. It’s what I’m supposed to do. Go to the pilot world. Act like a diplomat.”

  Swift says, “You do everything you’re told? I know for a fact that ain’t true.”

  Doc’s on his feet. He pokes Gordy’s chest. “So take it back. Take it all back. Take all of this back. The bodies and the blood. Fuck them and fuck you.”

  The two of em in each other’s faces.

  Swift still on the ground. In too much pain to do much of anything.

  Doc drops to his knees. “I lost Rubin. Because of your buddies.”

  Gordy says, “There is so much more to lose. I wish you understood.” He eyeballs the two men. “That’s it then.” He walks away. Doesn’t look back.

  The landing ramp of the alien ship retracts and closes.

  The Cukr’Prsou hums. Crackles.

  Fiske’s Huey lands outside the shadow of the alien ship.

  Miller steps out of the gunner’s seat. Fiske emerges from the pilot’s seat. Both walk toward the exhausted, bloodied dogsled driver and the site manager.

  Doc nods to them. Then sits back on his ass in the snow, cigarette dangling from his lips. He says to Miller, “Looks like a lot of your men survived.”

  Miller gestures to Fiske, “Thanks to the greenhorn.”

  Fiske offers a limp smile.

  Miller nods toward Swift’s leg. “You joining the club?”

  “Not if I can help it,” Swift says.

  Doc says, “Where’re my dogs.” Not a question. A demand.

  Miller says, “I have my men corralling them near the gunships. They’re safe.” He sees Rubin’s body there on the ground. “Jesus, Doc. I’m so sorry.”

  Doc ignores the sentiment. “What about Whitmore?”

  Miller shakes his head. “Didn’t make it. Even though your dogs did.”

  Doc chews on that for a minute. He sniffs. Not fair to yell at Miller about anything right now. He takes another drag from his cigarette.

  Fiske says, “Gordy?”

  Doc nods to the ship. “On there.”

  They watch the saucer from under its shadow. They want it to leave. They don’t ever wanna see it or anything like the Hroza again. And they all know they’ll be clutching their sheets from the nightmares and the memories for the
rest of their lives.

  Bolts of electricity bounce along the ship’s sides. Its edges pulse. Glow. Lines of light circle along the Cukr’Prsou’s frame. The ship’s hum becomes an ear-splitting, gut-shaking crescendo.

  The saucer heads straight up. Shrinks into the atmosphere.

  A dark, sparking speck fading into the blue.

  Clouds spread then swallow it. Curl around it.

  Goddamn thing’s finally gone.

  Doc feels like it’s safe to scream and cry now. So he does. He pounds his fists against the ground. Rubin’s fur soaks up his tears.

  Fiske says, “What’re we supposed to do now?”

  Doc gasps. He dries his eyes. “Keep watching the skies.”