The Invasion Trilogy (Book 2): The Shadows

by W. J. Lundy

  The chemical plant’s perimeter was completely enclosed in chain link fence. Jacob looked ahead and saw that a small pedestrian gate was hanging open. The Deltas saw it too and ran for the breach. Jacob dropped his pack then lay behind it, steadying his rifle. He fired round after round, dropping the creatures as they pressed through the narrow opening. A machine gun on Jacob’s right joined in and quickly put down the assault.

  With the first wave stopped, two men were ordered ahead to the gate with a small length of rope. They reached it, removed bodies from the opening, and then tightly secured it.

  Soldiers called out directions, seeing the Deltas moving from high ground and running at the plant from distant streets. Jacob heard Duke growl and turned to see James lying prone over his own weapon beside him. “This was probably a stupid idea,” James said, removing an entrenching tool from his pack. He hastily scratched at the dirt, digging a hole, pushing the fresh dirt in front of him. Jacob didn’t have a shovel, so he drew a long knife from his gear, used it to break up the soft dirt, and did the same.

  A group of several men broke off with Rogers and ran toward the chemical plant’s tank farm. “Where are they going?” Jacob asked.

  James looked over his shoulder at the running men then turned back. “They’re NBC guys.”

  “Like the TV channel?” Jacob shook his head, not understanding.

  “Chem warfare experts Nuke, Bio, Chem. They are going after the MX4.”

  The two soldiers at the pedestrian gate, having secured it, turned to run back to the small perimeter. Duke barked frantically. Jacob saw another wave of Deltas emerge from the trees across the street and watched as the two men were knocked down from behind. Mere seconds later, a full wave launched itself at the fences from deep in the trees—lines of attackers, most armed and firing as they ran at the fences. Jacob looked into their crazed faces as they assaulted forward, screaming and shooting.

  Incoming fire ripped by his head, smacking the dirt. He watched a puff of fabric as his pack in front of him was hit. Jacob dropped low and hugged the ground. All along their hasty line, soldiers opened fire. The machine gun opened up again, catching the charging deltas in the open. It mowed them down, sweeping left and right as more advanced. More men ran forward from the back. Jacob watched them sprint and drop to the ground near James where they set up a bipod and steadied a second machine gun.

  Jacob pressed his face to the soft dirt while the gunfire made his ears ring. He could barely make out the screams of the wounded and orders from the soldiers up and down the line. He looked over at James and saw him reloading his rifle. Duke was pressed into the hole behind James’s pack, the dog’s rear legs shaking with fear. James glanced across at Jacob and slapped him hard on the back. “One hell of a party we got invited to, isn’t it?” James said. “You know this is one of those moments, Jacob. It’s time to embrace the suck.”

  More screams and roars filled the air from the distant wood line. The main mass had arrived. Jacob could hear the trees and brush cracking as the mob formed together in the woods.

  “Get ready!” Merritt yelled over the noise. “Hold this line; nothing gets through.”

  Men dumped their packs, pouring out belts of 240 ammo which they passed down the line, stacking it in front of the machine gunners. Another soldier collected 40mm grenades and passed them to the Grenadiers. The soldiers pushed together, tightening up the line while they waited for the next assault. Jacob continued to dig and push earth to his front.

  “Get your frags out and ready; this is gonna be a long fight!” Merritt said.

  Jacob turned to his side, removed his grenades, laying them by his pack, and then placed several spare magazines near them for quick access. Jacob detected the sound of clanging metal and watched as three men deployed a small mortar tube in the bottom of the bowl. As the roars from the forest intensified, one dropped a round. Jacob looked ahead as it exploded somewhere deep in the distant trees. “That’s spot on; keep it coming,” a soldier yelled from Jacob’s left.

  All at once, the air erupted with whizzing hornets. The earth around him exploded with the impact of rounds. The Deltas screamed their frenzied war cries and charged from the forest. Some firing from the hip as they ran, others charging forward directly at the fences empty-handed. The machine guns went into action laying down heavy fire, raking the fence, cutting down the advancing mobs. Jacob got behind his rifle, ignoring the wave and looking for shooters the way he’d been trained.

  He spotted them—a small group on a rise in the earth, positioned at a forty-five degree angle to his perimeter. Invisible to most of the soldiers on the line, they were firing at them from an oblique line, nearly obscured. Jacob shifted his position sharply, lining up on them, then held his breath and squeezed the trigger, watching the shooter’s head snap back. Another slid into the spot and lifted the dead Delta’s rifle. Jacob fired again with the same result. James followed his barrel, saw his targets, and joined the fight, their combined efforts silencing the enemy snipers.

  Ahead, the fence was bending and starting to give and the soldiers focused their fire to the front. A machine gun went quiet as a gunner struggled to change a warped barrel. The fence fell forward in a screeching clash, releasing a flood of charging Deltas that poured out from the breech. Jacob reached for his grenade and tossed it onto the gap then returned to his rifle, firing madly as the enemy advanced. When his weapon ran dry, he rolled to his side to reload. He watched as James’ expression changed and looked up to see a small mob run through their perimeter. Jacob drew his M9 pistol and shot one in the back then fired straight up, hitting another as it hurdled over his position.

  Rolling to his stomach, Jacob raised his weapon. He cringed, horrified to see the fence swamped and their perimeter being overrun. The mortar men adjusted and rained rounds into the small clearing to their front. The machine gun was back online, pouring fire into the charging masses. Merritt screamed for the men on the back side of the perimeter to turn around and reinforce the front. Jacob felt the rounds coming from behind as the men at the rear turned and fired their rifles, supporting the brothers. Jacob watched the assaulting Deltas in slow motion, their bodies jerking, being torn apart from flying shrapnel and rounds coming at them from every direction as they ran down a gauntlet of steel.

  The last man stayed on his feet, running through the fire unscathed, its black eyes locked on Jacob. It ran twisting and lunging as it bound over the dead to its front. Jacob was frozen, looking at the man, seeing every detail in its clothing and pockmarked face. It closed the distance and looked down at him, beginning to leap at his position. The creature’s body jerked and contorted as it was suddenly cut down by the machinegun’s fire. Jacob watched the creature fall, still focused on its face as the black faded from its eyes.

  When he looked back up, the assault had ended. Merritt was on his feet trying to rally the men. Rogers was back with the NBC team. They were able to get the pumps online, moving the MX4 from the storage tanks through hoses to the external drop tanks under short wings on the Chinook. Rogers moved toward the perimeter line with a tall NBC sergeant by his side.

  “How long until the MX4 is onboard?” Merritt asked.

  Rogers shook his head, pointing to the front. “Doesn’t matter, bird will never get off under these conditions; enemy fire will rip it apart.”

  James dug through his pack and removed one of the remaining four bottles of the dioxin, the yellowish liquid shining through the clear plastic soda bottle. “I think it’s time to call an audible.”

  “Stow your piss bottle, soldier,” one of the NBC sergeants shouted from behind Rogers.

  James showed a wide grin as he reached into his bag for electrical tape. Strapping the bottle to a frag grenade, he said, “Oh, this is the Devil’s piss right here. What all you nerds call MX4.”

  Merritt pointed down at what James was doing. “Will that work?”

  The NBC sergeant moved close and knelt down next to James. “In theory it should
work, though it won’t be very effective. But he’s right; it’s time to break it out, sir. We have chemical fogger gear on board. Might as well test and deploy it here.

  “Get them set up,” Merritt agreed.

  Chapter 30

  A short break in the violence allowed the soldiers to regroup and distribute ammo. Men scrambled across the line, helping one another improve their fighting positions. The dead lay spread over the field to their front, covering the ground from the platoon’s hasty defensive line all the way back to the fence and beyond. James prepared the last of the improvised grenades he now affectionately called “piss bottles”. Captain Merritt liked the idea and ordered more of the improvised grenades be made up and placed all along the line while the foggers were removed from the Chinook, assembled, and pushed to the rear of the perimeter.

  The NBC sergeant, wearing a protective mask and gloves, primed the propane foggers, positioning them so that the mist would travel with the wind, away from the dug in platoon, covering their flanks. Still unsure about the MX4 effects on humans, the NBC team didn’t want to introduce the mist into their own lungs, instead using it as a standoff weapon. The propane burners were lit and the tanks charged; they just waited on the word from Merritt to begin the release.

  Jacob lay in his hole next to James, waiting for the next assault. James continued digging, throwing more dirt to the front, creating a tiny sump for Duke to lie in. They could hear the Deltas running and crashing through the woods, their numbers increasing rapidly. Jacob looked down the line at the hardened faces; he could see that the rest of the platoon had dressed down in protective garments and gas masks. “So what gives? They didn’t bring any of that for us to wear?” Jacob asked, pointing.

  James looked at him and grinned back. “Don’t sweat it, bro. We don’t need that snivel gear. Nothing can hurt us; we’re too hard for that. Besides, you don’t plan on getting any of it on you, do ya?”

  “No, I guess not, but don’t you think it would be nice to have, just in case?”

  Jacob looked away, but turned back in time to see James tie a bandana over Duke’s snout. “What the hell? I thought you just said we don’t need to worry about it?”

  “Come now, Jacob. You know Duke’s a Delta sniffing dog. We got to protect his most powerful weapon, right? We don’t want his sniffer getting out of calibration, do we?”

  “I guess, James, but you know what? You’re crazy as hell.”

  “Shit, look around you brother; everyone here is crazy.”

  A sudden rise in the volume of noise from the distant trees let the men know the Deltas were moving again, pushing toward the plant for another assault. Sounds of rattling brush and the roar of the mass once again became frenzied. Captain Merritt grabbed a nearby soldier and sent him to the NBC position, ordering them to release the fog. Merritt walked the line, crouching low, ensuring that every other man on the line now held a piss bottle, ready to deploy it on his order.

  “Did you tell him what the dioxin does to them? That it doesn’t kill them right off?” Jacob asked.

  James shrugged. “Yeah, I told ‘em,” he said, pushing forward with his rifle.

  Merritt moved behind James and dropped to his knees, looking through the fence. He turned, facing down the platoon’s defensive line. Holding a hand to his mouth, he yelled, “Tighten up, everyone. This will be their last push. This is all they got left in them. But we’re going to hit them back this time; we got something for them. We hold one more assault and we can go home.”

  A soldier ran back and dropped next to Merritt, out of breath. “Sergeant Emerson says the foggers are lit. They’re sending a hell of a mist downrange. The entire back approach is now in a toxic cloud.”

  Merritt nodded and faced the front as the frenzied mob ramped up. Trees cracked as they pushed ahead, still hidden in the cover of the brush and hanging clouds of smoke. Jacob could tell by the thunderous roars that the creatures’ mass had increased in size during the lull. The previous gunfire and explosions drew more of them to the fight. Merritt looked back at the mortar men and waved his hand down. “Let’s burn them out!” he shouted.

  As they arranged earlier, the mortar team loaded and dropped the first white phosphorus round. A chemical round that explodes and reacts harshly to the air, it can burn through skin deep to the bone, causing blinding fires and white smoke. The mortar launched from the tube and exploded with a loud crack deep in the woods, emitting blooms of sparks and white smoke. “That’s right where I want it; keep it coming,” Merritt ordered.

  The mortar team rapid fired its entire supply of Willy Pete then switched to high explosive, the trees quickly filling with white burning smoke and thundering explosions. The sounds of the monsters’ rage increased with every strike. Soon the tops of the trees were shaking while hot, dirty, yellow flames backlit the smoke. And again, The Darkness burst from the trees in a full charge, supported by their own shooters. Rounds whizzed by overhead. Jacob raised himself up, searching for a target, but saw nothing except the white acrid smoke. A volley of screaming Deltas ran from the trees, their clothing tattered and in flames. The dug-in platoon held their fire, waiting.

  James rose to his knees, bleeding off a full magazine, screaming back at the charring mob, “Come and get it! You ain’t got shit on me. Come on, you bastards.”

  Jacob lifted his rifle, rose up next to James, and fired into the advancing mob, hearing the rest of the platoon’s rifles join in. The machine guns went cyclic, raking the gap, chopping down ranks of the charging monsters. Bodies stacked up as more of the creatures forced their way through. James, sitting high as bullets whizzed by, screamed challenges at them. He pulled the pin on his improvised grenade and tossed it deep into the breach, hearing it explode with a loud crack and seeing the devastating results as the bodies of the tightly packed creatures were tossed to the ground by the explosion. Merritt saw James’s action and ordered the release of the remaining bottles. Men up and down the line rose to rain their own improvised grenades. They exploded in rapid succession, spilling carnage and dioxin over the battlefield.

  Jacob dropped and pressed his face to the dirt as debris and body parts showered his back. When the explosions stopped, Jacob pushed up, looking over his pack to see them still coming. As they charged forward, Jacob aimed center mass, knocking down a man directly to his front. The grenades impeded their advance, but fresh waves still emerged from the burning woods. These new ones crossed through the downed fence. They staggered over the dead and fell, disorganized as they passed through, the dioxin finally entering their systems.

  They grew mad with symptoms, gouging at their eyes as they charged forward, now lashing out in pure rage at anything that moved, even each other. An entire platoon online supported by heavy weapons with a clear field of fire made easy work of the chaotic mob. Sensing the lack of incoming fire, Jacob rose to a knee and took aimed shots, downing the staggering creatures one by one. With this current wave nearly destroyed, another approached the gate at a full sprint, again breaking up as they were slowed by the pool of bodies and waded through the contaminated breach, falling with sickness of their own.

  This time, half of the mass broke off, repelled by the chemical, and retreated back into the raging fire now burning in the trees. Others tried to move around the perimeter, walking the fence line, only to be cut off and overwhelmed by the chemical fog. The platoon’s men climbed up from their fighting positions, slowly advancing on line with each other and putting down the blind and suffering Deltas. The men continued gaining energy and excitement over finally seeing the Deltas defeated on the battlefield. They walked along the grounds, placing kill shots on any of the creatures still moving.

  Merritt watched as his men claimed victory over the field; he called the men back, ordering them to police their equipment and hold the line.

  James looked over and exchanged a relieved look with Jacob. The bearded man coaxed Duke from his hole, allowing the dog to run ahead toward the dead, sniffing at the Delta bod
ies all around them. James stood upright, grabbed his rucksack, and tossed it to the undisturbed ground behind him. The NBC men reported in with Merritt; Jacob watched as the men gave their brief. He overhead them say that the chemicals were completely transferred into the holding tanks and waiting to remove the lines. Merritt nodded and waved them off. He turned, faced the soldiers, and ordered the platoon to their feet, leaving only a few men back for security while the rest returned to the Chinook.

  James knelt down by Duke, watching the soldiers pass by. He poured water from a bottle, allowing the dog to drink. Jacob moved off to their side to rest. He sat down on his rucksack and used a bandana to wipe the grime from his face. Merritt passed by and stopped, looking at the carnage in front of them. He turned to James. “I don’t think we could have done it without the poison,” he said.

  “You know that shit is against the Geneva Convention,” James said with a serious face, making it impossible to tell if he was joking. “I’m going to have to file a report when we get back.”

  Merritt shook his head. “Good thing the Deltas never signed it.”

  “Good point, sir. So how’s your platoon?”

  “Five dead and many more wounded.” Merritt paused, looking to the fence. “Considering all things, we fought well today. This was a win for us.” The hardened officer turned and walked away.

  Hearing orders for the security team to return to the helicopter, Jacob leaned over and lifted James’ heavy pack to his shoulder. They headed for the Chinook, where a man in a flight suit removed a hose from a large tank attached to a stubby wing. Seeing the bullet holes in the side of the large helicopter, Jacob was going to question the man about the bird’s flight worthiness. When he heard the engines whine and the blades starting to turn, he changed his mind and, not wanting to be left behind, rushed ahead to the ramp.