by A. J. Allan
“Excuse me, sir,” Lake said.
“Go ahead, Lake.”
“PWA?”
A small smile flickered across Lt. Andrews’ face.
“A post-war aircraft. We called that hunk of metal over there the Apocalypse, but this ship was designed to survive an actual apocalypse. It might be—no, I take that back. It is our only possibility of defeating the noctura.”
26
“The ship is called the USSF Eagle, or the United States Space Fleet. Back then, before we got to space and united to defeat the neagala, we all thought whichever country got to a new world first would destroy the old one to prevent other countries from following it. So, as an emergency measure, the United States built this ship. Let me tell you, as far as fighting goes, it is like sending a tank to roll over a bunch of land mines instead of foot soldiers. It’s designed to take a beating, not dodge one. It’s got a good fifteen feet of steel protection, capable of withstanding all but the most potent and the most direct of hydrogen bomb attacks. It has cannons, rocket launchers, and can fire BVs into opposing ships.”
“BVs?” Lopez asked.
“Boarding vehicles,” Lt. Andrews responded. “Yes, if need be, we can send some of you guys onto that coral barf of a ship to destroy it from within.”
If we can get close enough.
“The ship is, for obvious reasons, not on public display at Nellis. I haven’t been to that base in years, frankly, but at the time that I knew of it, it wasn’t going to be in the public eye in any fashion. I would be surprised if that has changed in the last few years.”
“I hate to be that guy again,” Li said. “But… what if it’s not there?”
Then we’re fucked.
“Then we move out to the next military base until we find something suitable to fly up and fight the noctura.”
That plan would never come to fruition. If they did uncover the Eagle at Nellis, then they would die either at the hands of the aliens, at natural fatigue, or just lose the will to continue fighting. But it pleased Lopez to see his commander continue to push just a little bit further.
“Now then, let’s go over the plan one more time, from now up to when we shatter that enemy ship into a million pieces. Our first objective is to hike to Henderson, Nevada, and find a place with food and water. My recommendation is one of the casinos on the outside of the Strip that is not a warehouse. I fear that if the noctura come this evening, they’re going to attack those places to create the most casualties. Unfortunately, I don’t know which casinos have shifted to warehouses, but en route, we should have our option between Sunset, Fiesta, and Green Valley Ranch. The higher the rise, the better our position. Next, once we have the supplies to last us two days, we make haste for Nellis. If we leave at dawn and move out steadily, we should get there with plenty of time to spare. At that point, we get access to the base, commandeer the Eagle, and use her to attack the noctura’s ship.”
It sounded so simple and almost impossible.
Almost.
Which is exactly why Lopez was concerned. Though he didn’t pretend to know how plans always went, he’d just seen standard protocol get the Churchill turned into a haunted graveyard and many of his men killed. Lt. Andrews wasn’t stupid, but Lopez couldn’t imagine the plan would possibly go that straightforward.
“Does anyone have any questions?”
Yes. How the hell did we wind up here? What happened with the neagala that led to this war? Who are the noctura? Where are they from? Why is no one bothering to come and help win the fight?
Lopez said nothing. Questions that wouldn’t help the mission or that didn’t have someone who knew the answer had no value.
“Good. Let’s move out to the nearest casino!”
27
The greatest enemy of the next few hours was not the noctura, who preferred the hunting grounds of the blackness of night or space. It was not the heat, which, though brutal and insufferable, was trained for during basic training in the military.
It was the looming sense of finality, that this is how they would die. Not comfortably, surrounded by family. Not quietly, in a biopod, blissfully unaware of one’s own end. Not even quickly. Instead, they would die as some ugly alien tore at their neck, their eyes, their stomach, their groins, their arteries. They would bleed out, all too conscious and all too aware of what was happening, but unable to do anything about it. They would beg for help, but their help either were dead or had their own battles to fight.
Conversation could have deflected their fear, but no one talked. Not this early in the hike. Not with Jordan in an unknown condition that probably veered toward dying. Not with the rest of the squad vacillating somewhere between quiet insanity and purposefully delusional optimism.
Was this really any better than Mass Media? Sure, by nightfall, the noctura would come and hunt down those warehouses, killing all who lived inside. They likely would have no defenses against the alien creatures, those ugly bastards of cockroaches and xenomorphs. The xenoroach. Lopez smiled. At least if he died, he could claim naming the ugly fuckers as something other than a weird scientific name.
They’d joined the UGM as a way to stay out of the biopod. Because a gritty reality was better than a false delusion. But maybe the irony of that statement was that by joining the military for reasons other than wanting to fight, they’d fallen into that very trap. Joining the military as a means of escape and believing fighting would never happen… what greater delusion could Lopez think of other than that one?
At least he hadn’t broken yet like Li had. But he knew damn well that everyone in that squad—even Kowalski and Lake—had had those thoughts, at least passing consideration to telling the CO to fuck off. It’s not like they had any better alternatives. But in a fatalistic, nihilistic situation, sometimes telling the current plan to go fuck itself was as rewarding as any course of action.
After about an hour of hiking, they came to a large, giant dam. So giant, in fact, that Lopez had never seen anything like it. It was still operational, another landmark given to the hands of machines. And look what that got us. Against an enemy that can absorb our weaponry like its nutrition.
“Oh my God, it’s the Hoover Dam!” Li exclaimed. Whether his excitement was genuine or he just was trying to forget his breakdown and beat down, no one cared. They indulged him the moment, murmuring in agreement.
Li, in fact, broke off in a sprint, running toward the middle of the dam while everyone else still had a couple hundred feet to go. Lopez, not liking the idea of having one soldier by himself in a situation like this, ran as quickly as he could to meet Li. He looked back and saw the other soldiers starting to jog, with Lt. Andrews leading the way.
He came to Li staring quietly at the bridge, in such rapt attention that even the presence of a xenoroach wouldn’t have done a damn thing.
“This… this is the last place my mom and dad took me.”
Lopez wasn’t ready for that. He took a step back, giving Li whatever space he needed. He’d never seen Li this… honest. It was weird. Li broached the line of formality and went straight to informal and loved to talk, but vulnerability and honesty went just a step beyond what he would provide.
“Before they went into…”
“No,” Li said, his voice now barely rising above a whisper. “Before they died.”
A long silence filled the chasm. Even the remaining Apocalypse Squad sensed the situation and reduced their gait to a silent walk, careful of their steps and even their breathing. Li turned to face them, his face slowly discoloring from the beating earlier, but still with that youthful charm that he’d had before.
“My parents actually had the means to buy their way out of going into a BP,” he said. “I know, why sympathize with me then, right? But they did so because they felt they could best protest the actions of the government outside, not while in a fantasy South Korea where North Korea doesn’t exist and pop music never ends. I was so young when it started. I had no idea what was going on. I
didn’t have any idea until… until this trip here.”
He sighed.
“My parents spent so much of their money trying to influence politicians and corporate leaders to reconsider their move. My parents explained that the richest could still travel through space, the military could still defend humanity, and every human could have a right to enjoy this world. So much money, in fact, that by the end, they faced being hooked up themselves, too. And then my mom found out she had cancer. Incurable, even with modern technology. Truth be told, I think she knew she had it for a long time. She just… just didn’t want to live in a world like this.”
He gulped. He then laughed, looking like he wanted to change topics. But something inside Lopez told him that of all the times to change the subject and joke around, this wasn’t it—more so than in the heat of battle, more so than in front of Lt. Andrews’ superiors, and more so than after a near-fatal crash in the desert of North America.
“My father grieved terribly. Horribly. They both died within two weeks of each other. I was just 16. They had some money left over, but not enough to ensure I could live like most of the wealthy here. So I was left with a choice. Join the military, or join 90 percent of the world’s population in a fake society. That was two years ago.”
Lopez did his best to hide his surprise. At 25, he considered himself somewhat old for a private, but not especially old. But 18? That was literally as young as you could get. And for him to already be in this spot…
“Before they died, though, they took me to all of their favorite spots here on the U.S. west coast. Yellowstone. Mt. Ranier. Yosemite. And Hoover Dam, the last place. Their… their graves…”
His voice became emotional. Water filled his eyes. And a very different kind of dam, an emotional one, broke within the squad.
“They’re not too far from here. I’m sorry. When I learned where we were landing, I lost it. I try not to think about the past, my parents, because I know it won’t do me any good, but adding that we crash-landed against an alien race and would be right by my parents… I’m sorry. I’m sorry guys.”
Lt. Andrews walked over, past Lopez toward the weeping soldier. He paused for a second in front of him, and then embraced him. Seconds passed as the CO simply held the trembling soldier, doing what the best thing was in that moment—simply being a comforting presence, a shoulder to cry upon, a source of strength.
“Eric,” the CO said, once more becoming informal. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”
Lopez felt that there was something else that the CO wanted to say. Perhaps some sort of speech or words of encouragement. But maybe, maybe part of being a good commander was recognizing when words wouldn’t do the trick. When empathy and silence and comfort was what worked best, not rah-rah speeches or movie moments.
“Your parents would be very proud of you for what you’ve become,” the CO finally said after Li took a couple of steps back, leaning over the rail. “I believe in what your parents believe, truthfully. I believe many of us do here. I also believe your parents would be proud of you as long as you lived up to your potential in whatever avenue you took. So right now, I know that wherever they are, in whatever spiritual form they are, they’re proud of you.”
Li simply smiled. Sniffles still followed, but he had gotten under control.
“Thank you, Lt. Andrews.”
“Hell, call me Buck. It’s not like it’d be any different from the last two years of yelling at your ass.”
A few laughs emerged. Even Li laughed.
“As long as you continue to be a hardass when you have to be.”
“OK. Private Li!”
They both stood at attention. What the hell was about—
“At ease, and remain guarded but at ease, soldier. Your greatest asset is keeping this team loose. You balance out some of our other squad members. If we gotta fight those noctura, then I expect you to fight. But otherwise, at ease. Help us.”
Li smiled.
“You got it, Buck.”
28
They marched past the Hoover Dam, down Highway 93, a road that had plants and other vegetation growing over it and so much dust that the squad sneezed numerous times whenever wind kicked it up into their faces.
Though Li carried himself more casually, the conversation still remained at a minimum. The heat, the wind, the dust, the xenoroaches, the death, the mind, the confusion, the uncertainty, the nihilism, the tragedy, the insanity—it all bogged down the mind, making it difficult to even think about having conversation.
But for at least another two hours, maybe three or four if things went well, they had the sun to protect them. And as long as they had the great star of the Solar System, they could pretend that they were just on vacation, hiking through the desert.
In some ways, it reminded Lopez of his younger days with Irons, when the two could go explore just about any part of the world. Their parents preferred for them to get lost and to wander. They didn’t want them sheltered in a home. It paid dividends in the years ahead and especially in the military, when the idea of camping or marching through forests overnight was more familiar and less terrifying.
When they saw an exit, Lopez just tried to imagine doing a road trip. Why would they stop at this exit? What particular museum or restaurant awaited them that they could enjoy?
Of course, it was all in his head. None of it actually helped him prepare for the aliens. And yet, still, it kept his mind from going where Li’s had earlier.
After about an hour and a half of hiking, they finally found their first casino, Fiesta Henderson.
And it barely rose more than three stories.
“I know we can do better than this with the time that we have, soldiers,” Lt. Andrews said. “We make a choice now. We either go west and hit Green Valley Ranch, or we go north and hit Sunset.”
“Sir,” Kowalski said, viewing the options through a scope he had procured from the wreckage of the ship. “It appears that Sunset is now a warehouse. I don’t see any lighting on it, don’t see any signs, nothing. It’s a giant storage facility for Mass Media.”
“Damn!”
Lopez looked to the sky. On the far edges of the horizon, he thought he could see the remains of the Churchill. Sunset was a warehouse, but it was also a warning. A warning that they would soon meet their end if they did not prepare and set up camp properly.
“Then we head to GVR. I’m not thrilled with it, but at least it’s higher ground than the highway and it’ll give us better line of sight. Let’s move!”
The soldiers headed due west. The heat remained stifling, and since they were dressed in their formal uniforms, they were not at all prepared for marching in such conditions. Even Kowalski had ditched most of his uniform despite his love and strict adherence to military tradition and protocol. Irons had it worst without shoes.
Tattered and weary, they finally reached Green Valley Ranch just as the sun had touched the tip of the mountains due west. By everyone’s estimation, they maybe had fifteen minutes to procure supplies before they got in.
They reached the main entrance of GVR. Lopez, seeing a door handle, approached and pushed. It didn’t budge an inch.
“Greetings. Please provide proper identification,” an automatic voice said.
“Lieutenant Buck Andrews of the UGM SLS Squad 7, reporting,” the CO said.
There was a pause before a double buzz came.
“I’m sorry, Lt. Andrews, but you are not authorized to enter at this time.”
“Authorize this motherfucker,” Lt. Andrews said as he hoisted his gun and rammed it through the glass. Lopez braced himself for an alarm. None came. “Come on, people. We’re good.”
“There’s no anti-criminal measures?” Lopez asked.
“Well, sure, a beacon would go out to the nearest military vessel to investigate, but I’m pretty sure they’ve got bigger problems right now. We might get sealed inside as the glass repairs itself, but I’d think that would be a good thing, wouldn’t you?”
&nb
sp; Lopez and the rest of the crew jumped through the glass. They found themselves in a casino that, despite the name, contained very little gambling. It did have a couple of slot machines, blackjack tables, and poker tables, but the vast majority of the space was just open.
“Welcome to what a casino looks like when you only have a few hundred guests a year that gamble billions at once,” Lopez muttered to himself.
“Look!”
Everyone turned to Irons, who had made her way to a door marked “Kitchen.” She had busted it open, but the door swung surprisingly easily. They followed her inside and nearly cried for joy at what they saw.
One, there was a machine full of ice and full of water. Lake didn’t even bother to ask for food as she ran over there in moments. Irons, with Jordan slung over her shoulder, filled up several cup fulls and gave them to Jordan and herself. Joyful laughter broke out, and even Lt. Andrews grinned.
“And also look!”
Inside a freezer was plenty of meat, enough to feed the squad for weeks on end. They took it out, thawed it out in an oven, and then cooked it as quickly as they could. The preparedness of the meat was a luxury they did not have, but just having steak, duck, and fish as options felt like a luxury in itself. Comprehending how to cook the meat was a downright ridiculous question.
The soldiers slumped against the wall, weary, exhausted, but now nourished and prepped. After half an hour of eating, they had stuffed themselves to the point that they didn’t even look at the food. Even Lt. Andrews had gorged himself.
“Very good, soldiers,” he said. “We’ve taken care of ourselves. Now we need to hunker down. I recommend we stay in here, since there’s one entrance and its cool. But we should have two people on watch, and we’ll rotate one person in every hour. So you’ll go on two hour shifts. Does that work for everyone?”
“Yes sir!” the voices eagerly shouted.
“Good. Let’s see. Lopez. You’ll go two hours. Irons, you’ll join for an hour up top.”