by Rob Buckman
“How bad?” Decker asked.
“So, so. Could have been worse but nothing major.”
“What about you and your Team?”
“All good except Joann. The girls are out looking for her right now.”
“Oh god, was she out in the open when that thing landed?”
“I hope not. Told her to get her cute tail underground.”
“Was that one of those KEW’s you were talking about?”
“Yeah, but a small one I think.”
“Jesus. I’d hate to see the damage from a big one.”
“How about a quarter of a mile deep and a mile across?”
“That bad, huh.”
“What worries me is if the UFMs send troops up here, even bio-mechs to check this place out.”
“You think?”
“Wouldn’t put it pass them.” Decker stopped and hit the all-hands frequency. “All Team leaders meet me in the main court room in five minutes – Wolfman out!”
“I want all your team members packed and ready to go in an hour or less.” Was Decker’s opening statement.
“What! I mean, why?” Herriot, Charlie teams leader asked.
“Because I screwed up, that’s why.” Decker growled. “I didn’t expect the bloody device to work… well, not as well as it did, nor the alien's response.” It took a few seconds before his statement sunk in and when it did, he could see the look of surprise on their faces.
“EMP pulse, right?” June Lowery said, seeing Decker nod.
“At the most I expected a couple of destroyers to fly over and have a look, not the bombardment ship to move out of position to drop a bloody KEW on the valley.”
“And you expect them to send a follow up team to have a look and round up any human survivors.”
“Right. We maybe have a couple of hours at the most before they can round up the necessary bio-mechs and support troops to fly here. In that time I want to be long gone, so tell the girls to get their wooly undies on and get ready to move out.”
“To where?”
“United States Marine Corps Mountain Warfare Training Center northwest of here at Picket Meadows. It’s about 35 miles up 395 and then 108.”
“Sheesh, don’t want much do you, in this weather, and this snow.”
“Don’t see where we have much choice. I’m betting there won’t be much left of this place in a few days and I hate the idea of fighting those UFMs with the weapons we have.” It didn’t take them long to realize he was right.
“We’ll probably have to bivouac along the way.”
“It’ll get them use to it for when we move out in the spring.”
“Whenever that is.”
“Let’s get to it girls, we don’t have a lot of time.”
“We’ve found her, Wolfman.” The TAC radio crackled to life.
“How bad a shape is she in?”
“Beat up pretty good, but alive.”
“Good, get back here as fast as you can, we are bugging out within the hour.”
“Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot!”
“It’s a ‘Charlie Foxtrot’. I have the feeling the UMFs are going to be here shortly.”
“Whoa… on our way boss man – out.”
“I’ll have the girls pack your pretty undies, Krista.”
“Wish I had some, Wolfman.”
Despite the grumbling, the team was ready to move out in less than an hour. Between what they’d found in the houses around town and the local sporting goods stores they had already managed to find winter clothing, skis and snowshoes for everyone. The carts now had runners under the wheels and as each team leader reported their Team was ready, Decker had them move out to the edge of town and wait. Krista's Team returned carrying Joann and as she’d said, Joann was beat up pretty bad. The flash from the impact had burned most of her beautiful blond hair off, and she had a nasty burn on the left side of her face. The alien armor had protected most of her upper body and she had several nasty cuts and bruises on her arms and legs. One look and Decker knew she wouldn’t be able to walk for a while and had the girls prepare one of the carts to carry her. While Doc Mason was patching her up Decker kept one anxious eye on the horizon, half-expecting to see UFM destroyers arriving at any moment. As they exited the building for the last time, it started to snow, but only a light flurry to start with, but by the look of the dark clouds rolling in, there was more to come.
“HQ Team moving out.” Decker radioed as he grabbed the tag line to help pull the cart Joann was laying on.
Krista didn’t need any orders and was already moving up 395 and cutting a clear path for them to follow. How it looked from the air Decker had no idea, but if the aliens were half as smart as he thought they were, they’d have to figure any humans in town must have left the tracks when they departed. His one hope was that the new snowstorm would cover the tracks, but getting out of town and into decent cover was the first priority. That was a bit of a problem as the terrain on either side of the road was open, with little or no cover until they got to the dubious safety of the mountains. Their first target was ‘False Hot Springs’, 15 miles up 395, but thankfully, due to the wind the snow wasn’t that deep along the road. Once they reached the mountains, it would be a different story, expecting deep snowdrifts and the possibility of avalanches to slow their progress. It did start snowing heavily with big fat snowflakes drifting down in a nice thick blanket to cover their tracks.
Decker’s estimate about the alien arrival was off by an hour, as it took the UFMs two hours to get to Bridgeport, and they arrived just as the team reached a cluster of buildings across the road from the United States Forest Service Heliport. Decker sent most of the team on to False Hot Springs and took Delta team to hide out in the building and watch. If necessary, Decker was prepared to open fire on the destroyer to draw them off from the main Pack if they came this way. The destroyers that dropped out of the cloud cover were three times the size of the ones they’d seen patrolling the roads, and as predicted, they dropped off several hundred bio-mechs on the outskirts of Bridgeport, and established a perimeter. These bio-mechs were a lot larger than the ones they’d seen at the fire base, and able to plow through the deep snow with ease. While the bio-mechs spread out around the town, the carriers and more, smaller destroyers hovered over the town center until the circle was complete. At that point, they opened fire on the buildings, systematically working from the center outwards destroying each building completely before going onto the next.
“Methodical bastards aren’t they.” Dennis Michelson murmured.
“Yeah they are. They want to make sure no one is hiding in the bombed out buildings, and are trying to get someone to start running. They also don’t want humans using this place to hide out in anymore.”
“You think this is how it’s going to be when they start the next phase?” Decker nodded.
“Seems to me they want to force humans to cluster in groups in one place, that’s one reason they’re waiting, the other is getting bodies to operate those bio-mechs.”
“Jesus! They could have millions of those eggs up on that mother ship.”
“Yeah, and not just the ones we’ve seen. I’m betting they have a few really big and nasty bio-mechs up there as well.”
“Makes sense if you are invading a planet with armed natives. You’d want to have some really heavy shit to be able to go in and root them out where ever they hide.”
“True, but what I don’t get is why they don’t like going up into the mountain, or the cold, if what that asshole Burrole told us was true and why use humans?”
“Trackers.” Kim Drummond put in. “Like the Apache.”
“Huh?” Decker looked at her, not being familiar with American history.
“The US army got their collective asses kicked by the Apache. They chased them all over the Southwest but could rarely find them until they started employing other Apache tribes to hunt them down.”
“Makes sense. Humans would know where other humans woul
d hide and how to track them.” Decker murmured as he watched the ongoing destruction of the town.
“That’s sick! Why would humans help these assholes?” CC spat.
“Hate to tell you girl, there are always assholes the helped the enemy in any war. You be surprised at the number of people from other nations that fought for the Nazi’s in World War two, even helping in finding and rounding up the Jews for extermination.” It was a sad comment on the human race.
“It could just be they didn’t have enough bodies to operate the bio-mechs at first and needed humans to find people they could use as incubators.”
“Yeah, that way they get rid of the local natives and put their bodies to good use.”
“I’m surprised they don’t use the animals. There is a lot more of them available and easier to round up.” CC added. There was no answer to that question and Decker was glad they didn’t, for whatever reason. It meant they could use the disguise of the sheep herd without the fear of the UFMs rounding them up.
Using the gathering snow storm as cover, They followed the fast disappearing tracks of the team up 395, making good time with the snow shoes and skis and by nightfall they reached ‘False Springs’ and went into bivouac for the night in a small grove of trees. Large fires were out of the question, but Decker permitted small shielded ones to cook food and make hot drinks. After which they buried the fire pits in snow to hide any heat signatures and hunkered down as best they could under their shelters and tents. Now came the hardening process, as this was their first true night out in the cold away from any comfort. From here on out until they reached the dubious safety of ‘Norden’. Even Decker felt the cold that first night, wishing he had a warm body to cuddle up too. Joann lay next to him in her own sleeping bag but it did nothing to generate the heat two bodies lying together would produce. With their thick winter coats, Max and Goldie curled up in a ball together just outside the tent with the rest of the wolf pack, as they were still a little skittish around humans.
Morning dawned overcast and bitterly cold, and after a hot breakfast and a mug of reviving coffee, the Pack was glad to be on the move. Decker had the flankers move in close so the team was strung out in a long line up 395 following the path cut through the snow by the scout team. In many places, they struggled through waist high snowdrifts, despite the snowshoes, as the snow hadn’t had time to pack down. That left a trail a blind man could follow, and Decker prayed the heavy overcast would continue, even if the intermittent snow flurries did slow them. There next stop was ‘Sonora Junction’ but it still took a day and a half to reach it, and the turn off to ‘Picket Meadows’. They made camp as best they could in the bombed out ruin of whatever was there before the invasion. Now there was no telling what the place was used for.
CHAPTER FIFTEN: PICKET MEADOWS.
The Marine Corp base at Picket Meadows had taken it share of the alien’s attention, and much of it was nothing more than a bombed out ruin. The row of Boeing CH-47 Chinooks and the airfield had taken the main hit, cratering the strip and turning the hellos into heaps of burned out scrap metal. That fell in line with what Decker had seen at the base he’d flown out of. If it wasn’t underground or protected by hardened concrete bunkers, it was toast. The Pack took up residence in a partially demolished barracks, and by plugging up the broken windows; they managed to make the place livable. A couple of scavenged bottles of propane, salvaged portable gas stoves and heaters, provided heat for cooking, and take the chill off the room. Like soldiers everywhere, they became minimalists in combat, making do with the least amount of everything, be it food, drink, a place to sit, or a place to sleep. Decker let them thaw out and get a hot meal inside them before ordering them into their sleeping bags, assigning the duty of guard to himself and the wolf pack. Chucks of half-frozen deer meat kept them happy and they hunkered down near the front door after trotting around, sniffing and peeing on everything to mark their new territory. Decker smiled, wishing it were that easy for humans to keep the UFMs at bay. He made a round of the building with Max, and a couple of younger males in tow, more to get a lay of the land, and look for anything out of the ordinary. The blanket of snow hid how depressing the place looked, and for a moment, suppressed anger flared at what the alien invader had done to his planet, and to him personally. If the rail gun idea panned out, he'd have no trouble blowing every last one of the ugly green motherfuckers back to where they came from. By three in the morning, he was having difficulty keeping his eyes open, so it was a relief when Grace Lowery tiptoed out of the barracks and came up behind him. Max of course roused him out of his half sleep, and he gave her a wan smile as she took a knee beside him, looking out the open door at the snowy landscape.
“I’ll take over, boss. You need to get a little shut eye yourself.”
“Thanks Grace. I won’t say I don’t need it because I do. Don’t think I can stay awake much longer.”
“Your orders for tomorrow?” Decker yawned.
“Have them search for the armory and the ammo depot. Let’s see if there’s anything left we can use. Other than that, food and supplies would be good.”
“I’ll have the girls start on that right after breakfast. You go get a little sleep. Forty hours is a bit much for us older folks.” She chuckled softly.
“Speak for yourself old girl.” He patted her on the shoulder as he left.
Thanks to the portable gas heaters, the barracks was surprisingly warm after sitting by the open door, and walking around outside for hours on end. Looking around in the dim light from the candles in jars sitting on window ledges, he found his sleeping bag laid out near one of the stoves. He was betting he knew who set that up, and a careful look showed Joann lying on the other side. In sleep, she looked so young laying there, with none of the normal worry lines marring her sweet face. He removed his boots, jacket, and outer winter pants and slipped inside his bag with a soft sigh, telling himself to thank Joann in the morning for making a pillow for his head. He never saw Joann sit up and look at him as he drifted off, smiling in satisfaction as she saw him relax in sleep. Crawling out of her bag, she quickly dressed and placed the spare blanket over Decker’s slumbering form. Once done she refilled the coffee pot and put it on the stove to boil, tiptoeing out clutching her rifle to say good morning to Grace.
“How’s he doing?” Grace asked.
“Sleeping like a baby, thank goodness.”
“Good. The Boss needs his sleep after being awake for so long.”
“I sometimes wonder how he handles it all.” Joann murmured.
“Training mostly and dedication. The one thing I can say about those SAS boys, they don’t quit no matter what.”
“We are SAS now.” Grace gave her a sharp look and started to say something before she shook her head.
“You’re right, we are, even if we didn’t go through ‘Selection’ and all the other training they do.”
“What do you mean, ‘Selection’?” Grace smiled slightly as she scanned the snowy landscape.
“The SAS uses ‘Selection’ as the first phases of their testing. You ask permission to try out and go on a forced march across very rough terrain to see if you are fit enough to go further, but that’s not the only thing they are looking for. They want soldiers who are more mentally flexible than most soldiers.”
“Hold that thought while I go get us hot coffee.”
“That would be nice. Thank you, Joann.” She watched her walk softly away and wondered how she was going to explain to her the difference between an ordinary soldier and an SAS Trooper. She wasn’t even sure she could explain it, not having been through that it takes to become one. Joann returned with the hot coffee and Grace sipped the dark brew eagerly as she wrapped her cold hands around the mug.
“What makes them so different from an ordinary soldier?”
“Being a civilian, you first have to understand what a soldier is. When you join the Marine Corps, or any other regular unit, you get indoctrinated into the history of the Corps, all the f
amous battles, our heroes and who did what to whom and when. You learn to jump at any order and answer with a sir, yes, sir and how to march up and down in good order and look pretty. At the end, you start to think differently, see things a different way, respond to situations as a soldier rather than a civilian. Like a policeman or a fireman, you run towards danger instead of away from it.”
“I get that, like we do now.”
“Right. Your team or platoon mates become your family and you do everything you can to protect them. Like they say, you can do simple mechanical actions while in a complete panic.” She chuckled.
“Yeah, like reloading your rifle while the bad guys are shooting at you.” Grace nodded.
“In the military, you hear stories about the SEALS, Rangers, Green Beret and others and wonder how much of it is bullshit and how much of it is real, even stories about people in the Corps who did extraordinary things. Then you hear stories about the SAS and say, No way! That's horseshit, like taking down the Iranian Embassy hostage situation in twelve minutes, or hostage takers surrendering after hearing the SAS was on its way.”
“No shit!”
“Yeah, no shit. They practice hostage rescue in a building they call the ‘kill house’.”
“I’ve heard of that.”
“Did you also hear they do it with live ammo?” Joann’s jaw dropped.
“No way.”
“Yes way and the hostages are live to boot.”
“Ooh my! What if they make a mistake and shoot the hostage?”