by A. J. Allan
“And what have you learned?” Li asked as his tone became more curious and less jocular.
“I learned…” Jordan said, followed by some heavy breaths. Even in his improved state, he wasn’t anywhere near ready to fight. “I learned I’m surrounded by the best people I’ve had. That war sucks. That we’re all scared. But that we’re all here, as soldiers, because we go past it.”
Simple. Concise. And with nothing unnecessary said. But it drove home the point.
“Agreed,” Li said. “Mav! How about you? Where did that come from?”
“Well, like Irons, there’s the official reason and the real reason,” Lopez began. He felt no worries about venturing into the territory he did. “Officially, when I joined, I carried myself like Maverick from Top Gun. But no one wanted to use three syllables, I suppose, so I just went with Mav. Unofficially…”
Here goes nothing. They all know. But they don’t really know.
“Maverick is just a nickname for cowboy, which everyone thinks of as this great American icon. But it actually has its roots in Spanish culture. Which, obviously, you all know me, I take pride in that. I also relate to the fact that frankly, most cowboys were from the lower classes. And many cowboys, well, they were gay. It’s a heavily male culture. And it’s weird, because the stereotype of cowboys is very homophobic. But there are many. It weirdly comforts me to know that the spot I’m in now—that many of us are in now—is not new. It’s got precedence. Some suffered the worst kind of fate. But others pushed through and survived. And so yeah, I got the personality of the maverick. But I also got the culture and the soul of a maverick in more ways than most people can ever imagine.”
Lopez smiled when he finished. When he spoke like that… he was proud of his identity, dammit. It wasn’t a burden to hide from the military. It wasn’t a secret he had his comrades in Apocalypse Squad keep. It wasn’t a biological defect. It was who he was, through and through, and it was something many people in history carried. It was a weight he didn’t see as a weight so much as a badge. He swore right there if he got out of this alive, he would find a way to make it OK for the LGBTQ in the military. Maybe he wouldn’t request it directly. But he could work to get it.
“I’ll be damned,” Irons said, wearing a warm smile. “I’ve known you almost my whole life, Mav, and I never knew that.”
“I knew it cuz I thought it and I didn’t fully understand it,” Lopez said. “Probably still don’t.”
“Thanks for sharing, Matt,” Li said. “Well, Michelle Lake, you’re the only person left. Why Monster?”
“You guys will think it’s ridiculous.”
“Does it involve sex in an elevator?”
Lopez laughed even as Irons punched him and Li for making the joke.
“No, no, it’s… OK, so, you guys don’t know this, but I’m like Mav. I’m lesbian. It’s a good thing I haven’t been part of the squad as much as him, because I have no idea how he keeps it a secret. Anyways, so, back in the early 21st century, there was this awesome pop artist called Lady Gaga. People like me adored her, and she adored us back. Outsiders called it a cult, but for people like Lopez and me who had to deal with obnoxious shit for years, we craved someone who loved us for who we are. She called us her little monsters, and as a little girl, I loved Lady Gaga. But I hated most of my life. Bullied, forced to love Jesus, all sorts of shit I didn’t want to deal with. Yes, I snapped at basic. But when they started calling me Monster, I owned it. Because I always wanted to be a little monster, and I finally got that chance.”
Lopez swore he saw tears forming in Lake’s eyes. Hell, he himself felt emotional at hearing her story. Everyone in the fucking squad looked like they felt something after that, even Kowalski, who kept his eyes upward and his breathing heavier. Li just looked at the ground for several seconds before he finally spoke.
“Thanks, guys, all of you, for sharing that. I thought my call sign was the most embarrassing, but… no, not embarrassing. You guys, your signs have soul. That’s awesome. That’s so cool.”
“We’re more than just soldiers,” Lake said, her confidence rising now that she’d told the truth. “I’m more than just a lesbian, Matt’s more than just a gay man, Fred’s more than just a fantasy nerd, and so on. We’re people. We’re humans with emotions and feelings and mistakes and shame and embarrassment and joy and love and humor. Maybe we fuck up, maybe we’re not perfect according to the UGM. But we’re most certainly human.”
“No one can argue against that,” Li said, and then a wicked smile formed. “Oh! We forgot! Buck!”
“Nope!” he yelled, about twenty feet ahead of the pack. “Nope! I’ve never given a fuck about call signs! Call me Buck if you want something besides Lieutenant or Commander Andrews.”
Li sighed mockingly. Lopez didn’t bother to hide his laugh.
“No fucks given,” Li said, and his eyes lit up. “That’s it! He’s Lieutenant Buck ‘No Fucks’ Andrews!”
“I swear to God, Li, use that call sign on me and I’ll bust your ass up harder than the fucking roaches.”
But it was too late. Irons called out “No Fucks!” So did Lake. Lopez did a moment later. Kowalski could never bring himself to do it, but he smiled when everyone else did. Even Jordan forced a grin.
“You fuckers are so dead when we get a working ship,” Lt. Andrews said when he turned around, but even he cracked a smile before he could turn back to the road.
35
Onward they trudged, soldiers on a highway once occupied by gas guzzlers, “advanced” electric vehicles, buses, limos, the random pedestrian, and even the occasional emergency landed aircraft. Now, despite years of technology, years of advancement, years of research, that stretch known as Interstate 15 had become a barren stretch of nothingness. Nature had begun to take it back, with cracks, dust, and debris filling in for tire marks and oil drippings.
And just a few dozen feet to their right stood the remains of the once great Las Vegas Strip. What was once a place for strip teases, high-stakes gambling, sex-infused nightclubs, mounds of drugs, and dinners too exclusive for anyone without nine digits in their bank account to attend had become a shuttered graveyard of early 21st century American indulgence. Only one building remained in use—the Aria, which had been converted into a warehouse for Mass Media. Otherwise, the buildings resembled the highways—coated in brown dust, with no working lights, and edifices slowly tearing from the structure.
That was, until last night. Now, the former Aria casino had pollen littered all over it. Circuits exploded every so often, and sparks flew from the windows at intermittent periods. The soldiers tried not to examine the windows too closely, knowing what awaited them and what did not.
“Eyes forward, soldiers,” Lt. Andrews said. He didn’t have to say “Mouths shut.” Not anymore. Not with the horrors of seeing what the xenoroaches had done to the once-majestic silver emblem of Las Vegas.
Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass filled the air. Shrill screams followed, the screams of the aliens. The soldiers cocked their guns toward the casino.
“Move!” Lt. Andrews called as something flew toward them, gravity accelerating its fall.
It missed all of the soldiers easily, for it had come from the top floor of the Aria, some sixty stories up. But when the dust had cleared and the danger of flying debris had subsided, the soldiers quickly realized that the toss had come not as an attack, but as a message.
Lopez got there first. He moved past the dust, coughing and flicking his hand to avoid having more of it enter his eyes. The first thing he saw was cracked glass. From the inside, blood had scattered all over it.
More dust cleared. He saw cords and wires from all around. Sparks flew, but none were of any threat. Then the glass came open, as if done automatically.
A human popped out, but it looked like the farthest thing from a human. The aliens had caved the woman’s face in. Her stomach had all of its intestines removed, which Lopez realized with horror the aliens had placed inside
the pod. Her spine was severed. The rest of her body was barely attached.
“What the fuck!” Lopez yelled as he turned away, disgusted. Seconds later, he collapsed to his knees, vomiting.
The aliens hadn’t just killed the human. They’d massacred and desecrated her, turning a full-grown woman into a ragged puppet they’d grown tired of and destroyed for fun. And on top of that, it was like they’d known to send her down to the patrolling soldiers, knowing that it might break them.
Lopez glanced up at the top floor of the Aria. He ignored the comments of his comrades as he looked through the scope of his rifle. At shadow’s edge, three aliens stared him down. They stood frozen in place, but Lopez knew better than to assume they couldn’t move. They’d positioned themselves there to taunt the soldiers, egging them on, Lopez thought.
Lopez cocked his rifle.
“Mav!”
Lopez turned to Kowalski, who angrily moved toward him. He looked up, saw what Lopez saw, and cursed.
“Don’t make the mistake I did,” Kowalski said. “Don’t give them anything. Save it for the bastards in space.”
Then they heard the growl.
They immediately—along with the rest of Apocalypse Squad—cocked their guns. It had come at about 3 o’clock from Lopez’s position.
They all saw it immediately. An alien, hiding in the darkest spot underneath the bridge they had just passed. How did it not strike us? How did it not devour us immediately?
It made no move to attack the soldiers. But it growled and bore its teeth, and Lopez smelled the stench of the ugly, foul aliens, one like rotten, overcooked eggs.
“Let’s count our lucky stars that we passed by without any damage,” Lt. Andrews said. “From here on out, let me make it clear. We do not under any circumstance go into a dark place, a shaded place, a place without direct sunlight. I don’t want you guys to have any fucking shadows if you can help it. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” the soldiers replied.
“I’m tired of these assholes tracking us. But we can’t let them make us stupid. If we have no choice but to go under a bridge, then I’d sooner burn that bridge before we go under it. Clear?”
“Clear.”
“Let’s move.”
They all lowered their guns, ignoring the alien in the crevice of the bridge, but they could not ignore the human offered up as a warning.
The warning, Lopez knew, was simple. It said that if the aliens got to them, they would not just kill them. They would destroy them savagely and leave them unrecognizable for what they were—men and women.
There was perhaps no greater insult or fear for the soldiers to face. Death was one thing. Loss of humanity—not just in existence, but in spirit—was another.
They could not surrender. They could not let themselves get captured. If they ran out of weapons, if they ran out of ammo, then they all knew in their minds they would sooner die with an exploding grenade in their hand than with their hands in the air.
36
The chatter stopped. The groans, the complaints, the jokes about the heat, the jokes about call signs, the jokes about firing accuracy and battle competence all vanished. No one could say a word after seeing the woman’s remains from the xenoroaches. It felt disrespectful to joke about things like calling the CO “No Fucks” when the woman had barely any remains.
They passed by old landmarks. The massive billboard advertising the Cirque du Soleil show “O” at the Bellagio. The buildings of Caesars Palace, but not before passing under a bridge whose sign for “Sahara Avenue” barely hung on—fortunately, a scope of the area confirmed that it was clear. Once-lit up neon signs advertising strip clubs like “Spearmint Rhino.” Artisan hotels and purple-painted buildings that had no decor, an intentional contrast to the once rainbow-spectrum colors of the Strip. Through it all, no one said a word.
They passed by Downtown Las Vegas, a place even more historic than the Strip. Once home to the world’s largest TV screen, it now just looked like a place riddled with bullets, blood, and war. They ignored the sound of the display for “Golden Nugget” collapsing to the street, likely the work of some destructive, vandalizing aliens. Through it all, no one said a word.
They passed under the desert sun, the dusty wind, the dry heat, and the blistering, clear sky that both blessed them with no aliens and cursed them with no relief. They passed under bridges, some of which had no aliens, a couple which had one hiding, a couple which had multiple ones waiting. They easily took them out, now prepared for their hiding spot. Through it all, no one said a word.
When they finally cleared Downtown Las Vegas, a serene sight awaited them.
Plenty of abandoned structures remained. Houses, restaurants, smaller casinos, Walmarts, strip malls, shopping malls, car dealerships, and government buildings went unused and had remained unoccupied for years. But as best the soldiers could tell, they were abandoned by humans, by people they could communicate with and relate to. These buildings lacked human life not because of the monsters of space, but because of human choice.
There would come a time when they would face the question of why they had left so many humans behind, left them to live lives they could not enjoy in reality. But for today, they would just take the lack of aliens until sunset.
Even more gratifying, the first words to break the silence came from Lt. Andrews.
“It’s twelve hundred hours and we’re halfway there,” he said triumphantly. “We might make it with time to spare.”
“Nice,” Lopez said.
No one said anything else, but the comfort level slowly rose. No one would ever forget what they had seen, but at least they could move past it for the time being.
“You know, at this pace, we might just want to do one of those 100 kilometer walks,” Irons said, a small smile testing the reaction of others.
“100k? How about 1,000k?” Lake said, but she did so with a wink.
“Now let’s not get too crazy,” Irons said. “I’ll race you 1,000k in a car, but not on foot. I’ll bleed out my feet and die before that happens!”
The banter between the two women continued. One person who remained strangely silent, though, was Li. Lopez didn’t think he was about to break again, but instead, he looked on the danger of crumbling. Wherever he was mentally, he wasn’t physically.
Lopez let the two women talk more about great hikes and dropped back to Li. Kowalski was about ten feet behind them, protecting the rear of their march.
“You doing OK, bud?” Lopez asked.
“Trying,” Li said with a heavy sigh. “Trying. But man. This is hard. I don’t want to break again, you know?”
“I don’t blame you,” Lopez said. “Just… I dunno.”
“I’ll tell you what you can do,” Kowalski said, and Lopez groaned.
“Firestone—”
“What, you think I’m going to beat him again? No. I made that mistake already.”
He then turned and, once again to the surprise of Lopez, he put his arm around Li.
“Listen. I am as green as you are. But many generations of my family served in war. A little over a hundred and fifty years ago, my ancestors fought against the Nazis invading Poland. And he wrote something down that my family has passed down ever since. I left it on Churchill but I look at it every day. ‘War is a contest of wills. Killing isn’t enough. If you choose not to break, you cannot be defeated. War is not about weapons. It is about people and their will to fight and their will to live. Our existence must break before our will.’ Li, I am scared. But if my ancestor, as a Jew, could resist extinction and the Nazis, we can do the same here.”
Li took an audible breath, flared his nostrils, and nodded. Kowalski patted him hard on the back. There was no outward sign of change. But the Pole had made his point, and Li wasn’t the only one listening.
Keep your will to live and your will to fight. Find the reason to do both.
If it’s not humanity as a whole, it’s your friends.
37
But by the same token, they saw something so beautiful that it made them holler for joy. By itself, it meant nothing. Exit 48 on Interstate 15, with the sign pointing to Craig Road.
But they knew what it was. The exit to go to Nellis Air Force Base.
“Sweet motherfucking Jesus, alleluia!” Lt. Andrews exclaimed when he saw the sign.
The soldiers had marched for nearly ten hours. Jordan could probably not have gone another two miles, and Irons herself desperately needed food. Lopez and Lake had already given her and Jordan some of their water supplies, hoping that it would not be a move made in vain. Their clothing, once worn for formal presentation, was tattered, bloody, dusty, and as dirty as if they had rolled around the bottom of Death Valley. Their skin peeled from sunburn, and the men who wore buzz cuts had red burn marks on the top of their skulls.
But all of that pain, agony, and annoyances vanished. Not only did they pick up the pace, a few ran up the exit ramp in celebration of having made it to their destination. All they had to do was walk maybe one more mile—less than an hour, had to be—and they could hunker down in one of the buildings inside the base.
When they reached the top, Li asked Lt. Andrews how much further they had to go.
“About three miles to the main entrance.”
Groans filled the air. The curse of Las Vegas was such that everything was visible, even the objects more than a dozen miles away. The curvature of the buildings, too, supposedly made the buildings appear closer than they actually were. The same, it seemed, was true for Nellis.
With guns at the ready and clear firing lines, the soldiers moved with a quickened pace. By now, physical fatigue would have set in. Blisters, sore muscles, a weary mind, peeling skin, and cramps all would have threatened the soldiers.