Silence the Living (Mute Book 2)

by Brian Bandell

  “We are the government. Now get out of here before I shove a hook up your ass and toss you into a sinkhole as bait,” Dobbs said.

  Two of his SEALs trained their weapons on the diving guide. Riggs made a hasty exit. Trainer didn’t budge.

  Captain Dobbs approached him with a face hard enough to deflect a billiard ball. “Word of my brother’s trip to the hospital has gotten out and now…Two golfers on a course connected to the springs system are missing.” He shook his head. “The whole of Northwest Florida is freaking out. People are locking down and arming up, ready to go alien hunting in their backyards. They’re liable to shoot anybody who doesn’t answer ‘hello’ in one second. The word came down from Secretary Stronge to end this as soon as possible.”

  Of course, that political hack who last served in the military three decades ago was an expert on mitigating damage to fragile ecosystems. Stronge was like a dentist who wielded a pickax to remove a wisdom tooth.

  “You’re not penetrating the aquifer with that rusty screw.” Trainer pointed at the drill as it splattered muddy debris.

  He marched past Dobbs toward the drill. The captain caught his arm. Dobbs didn’t say anything. The cold-eyed stare Dobbs gave him made it clear how easily he could skewer him.

  “We already went down there once to fight it and you know what happened,” Trainer said. “Send drones with taser weapons. Chase the monster to the infected area. Then seal it in with barriers in the caves. Without anything to feed on, the mutant and whatever alien life it’s supporting are goners.”

  “The ugly cave dweller smashed three of our drones before they could discharge their weapons,” Dobbs said. “It removed our steel nets. We don’t have time for trial and error here.”

  Trainer yanked his arm free from the solder’s grip. “So far, all you’ve been is error.”

  “Mr. Trainer, please don’t hurt yourself.” Ho approached his fellow scientist, yet stopped short before blocking his path to the drill.

  “How nice of you to intervene, Leonard,” the Lagoon Watcher said. “How much did they bribe – I mean pay – you to sign off on this misguided effort?”

  “I didn’t exactly sign off.” Ho shrugged away from the glare of Captain Dobbs and bowed his head. “They asked my opinion. I said a direct assault could result in casualties, and possibly infection if the alien elements in the water have grown stronger. However, preventing this deadly infection from spreading must be the first priority.”

  “See! Even he knows this plan is crap.” Trainer pointed at the NASA scientist.

  Ho’s cheeks flushed red. “That’s not what I said!” he said through a stammer as a few SEALs shook their heads.

  Trainer took a step toward the drill. Captain Dobbs twisted his arm and slapped handcuffs on his right wrist.

  “This is kidnapping! Secret prisons! Black sites!” Trainer went limp-legged.

  Dobbs dragged him to a generator and handcuffed his wrist to it, close enough to inhale the carbon fumes belching into the atmosphere. Trainer cast his gaze towards Ho for relief. His supposed scientific partner turned his back on him and wiped the sweat off his scalp.

  “If you let me go, I’ll show you…”

  “Show me what? How to destroy the plague spreading beneath our feet with an all-natural, organic bug spray?” Dobbs said in a mocking tone. “You had your chance to stop it. This is mine.”

  Studying the captain’s face, Trainer saw a shade of his younger brother. He could never forget that desperate glare on the young soldier’s pale face in the dark cave as their air ran low. The younger Dobbs had been willing to sacrifice himself so Trainer could escape. He didn’t need an order. The soldier had made a decision with his heart.

  “You see these hands?” Trainer said. “These are the hands that carried your wounded little brother out of a watery death trap. I could have escaped faster if I’d left him. But I cared about life, all life. You obviously don’t. That’s why you’re here now drilling a hole in a protected forest instead of nursing your brother back to health.”

  Captain Dobbs chewed on his knuckles. He could have been restraining his words or his fist, perhaps both. The corner of the soldier’s lips involuntarily quivered as sweat dripped from his temples.

  “Where the hell were you when your brother needed you?” Trainer said.

  That earned him a fist to the gut. Dobbs delivered it so hard that Trainer’s lungs compressed like empty beach balls. He collapsed to his knees.

  “I was where I always am, out following orders,” Dobbs said. “That’s what I’m doing now. No matter what it takes, or who we have to hurt.” He glared at the scientist. “We’ll see this job through.”

  If the Lagoon Watcher could have found the air to talk, he would have told Dobbs that the alien’s microscopic robots shared much the same ruthless mentality.

    

  The tremors, I felt them in my spines. Vibrations rattled the ceiling, making the brisk water in the dark cave slosh around me. It never dawned on me how tight this space was until then. I shouldn’t have cared. I could simply dart off into a safer subterranean hiding spot. But, this vile toad needed me.

  The bloated ball of warts had swollen even more after guzzling a few tanks of fuel, dissolving a collection of nine-irons between its plump lips, and gulping down the golfers’ bare bones. I had the pleasure of stripping the flesh from the victims, just like carving the skin and fat off a chicken. Beside lunch, this relationship hadn’t paid off yet.

  “Is that Moni? Tell her to come. I’m waiting.”

  Toad cracked its mouth open. The ever-growing fat bastard could barely close its trap. The purple pouch expanding in its belly pulsated, like something inside was ready to rip its way out. The light radiated so intensely its skin was nearly translucent.

  “Soldiers.” The murky voice surfaced in my head. “Many.”

  They thought they could break down the door and overwhelm me. Just like when they had arrested me back in the day and I left a cop with a split lip, I won’t go without making them fill out an injury report.

  “Dig upward…Then leave.”

  Dig towards the surface? Why, so their hole reaches us sooner? That wouldn’t make much difference. I could pop out of the ground before they’re ready, but those were a fool’s odds. The toad would be better off if I scooped its slimy hide up and hid it in another section of the caves.

  “No move.” Its voice responded before I could voice my plan. “Must stay. Hatch. You leave.”

  “Oh yeah, and your fat froggy ass will take care of them.”

  Its tongue wiggled out of its mouth. I tried jerking away before it tagged onto my forehead. The sucker was again too fast. Good thing it didn’t last long. I digested its plan in a second.

  “Oh, they’ll love this.”

  I began digging upward.

  70

  Colon sent a text to his wife Rosa from his personal phone before his tank left cell tower range.

  I love you and Ernesto always. Keep fighting, no matter what happens today. This world was meant for us.

  Colon exchanged a nod with his driver, Lt. Rivera, a father of two with their names tattooed on his arm. He’d also just finished a text.

  The dozen M1 Abrams tanks ground through the rocky desert towards the descending sun as the dust trailed behind them. Colon strapped viewfinder goggles on his face, giving him access to several of the tank’s cameras. The smoke column, now taller and thicker, loomed ahead. He could only imagine what the black shroud concealed.

  “If you got someone you care about, send them a text now while you still can,” Colon told the gunner, Lt. Klem. He was one of the first to sign up for TERU.

  “Last time I texted my mom while in the field it was a blood bath. I was the only one who returned to base in one piece.” Klem had lost five marines in his company during a suicide bombing in Iraq and he still went on another tour. “It’s like admitting we’re going in over our heads.”

  “It’s okay.” Ri
vera winked at him. “You’ll text her when we get back.” The driver eyed Colon seeking a sign of confidence.

  Colon squared his jaw and nodded, all while his stomach shriveled into a raisin. Colon had escaped death’s gaping maw once. Now, he was driving into his fuming mouth.

  Returning to the viewfinder, Colon saw flakes of ash littering the desert floor and blackening the branches of the dry brush. Once towering cacti had died and withered like deflating balloons. The eruption of choking smoke grew larger as they approached. It dominated the horizon, a black mountain before them with a summit high beyond their sight.

  The tips of Colon’s fingers tingled. Something crawled on his arm. Had a spider snuck inside? He pulled away from the goggles and swatted at it. Nothing.

  “Agh, what is this?” Klem scratched at his neck and winced.

  Rivera sweated profusely and his skin practically glowed with heat. “They’re waiting for us. We shouldn’t be going here, man.”

  Colon felt it too. Unease. Alarm, like he was about to walk over a pile of sleeping crocodiles. Most soldiers who faced the aliens head on had perished. Why would they fare any better?

  “This is your only warning.” A baritone voice rattled inside his skull, like an intruder into his thoughts. “We know you desire to protect your cities. Now that we have the resources we need, that is not what we’re after. We have claimed this land as ours. Turn back now or we promise you suffering beyond death.”

  Colon might have believed them, but images of the bodily remains in the streets of Columbus were fresh in his mind.

  “Listen up, TERU,” Colon said on the secure communication line. “Any anxiety you feel, that’s coming from them. They feed fear and chaos into our minds. Don’t listen to them. Trust your training, and do this for your fellow soldiers.”

  Klem took a deep breath and ceased clawing at his neck. Rivera poured water over his head and said, “I’m from the Bronx. Those aliens wouldn’t last five minutes on the streets in my neighborhood.”

  The tanks stayed in staggered formation as they penetrated the smoky haze. Colon’s visibility faded to 20 yards. He could only make out two of the other tanks around them, but GPS showed him the formation’s position. His bigger concern was what else lurked in the grey soup. An entire army could surround them and attack from all sides.

  “TERU team, keep an eye out for enemy sightings and report them to me immediately,” Colon said. “We don’t know what form they’ll take. If you see anything alive out here, assume it’s hostile.”

  Colon heard the acid rain drops pattering on the tank’s armor. The metal exterior would hold up for many hours, but he wasn’t sure about the cameras. They had wrapped rubber around them to buy more time. If they went, they’d be fighting with one eye closed.

  “Sir, I see something,” said the driver of D Unit, in a tank on Colon’s left flank. “Some guy in a cowboy hat. He’s just standing there watching us. Shouldn’t the rain burn him?”

  It should, if he were human.

  “Engage him,” Colon ordered.

  “Whoa, he’s gone,” the driver said. “Faded into the smoke.”

  Colon was certain the cowboy continued watching them. No matter worrying about him now. That’s not what they came for.

  Comparing their GPS location with the photos the ill-fated drone had taken of the maar lake, they were 30 yards from the edge and needed to traverse halfway around its outer rim to reach the side closest to the fracking equipment. They could blast a hole in the edge of the maar and wedge underneath their shield to the pump.

  A blunt thud came out of nowhere, making Colon jump and the viewfinder goggles slip off his face. Then scratching. Something clawed at the hatch atop his tank.

  “Fuck, you didn’t see that coming?” Klem asked. “It’s too close for me already.”

  He couldn’t admit it out loud, but Colon couldn’t spot everything. With six camera angles and a split-second window before the hard-charging aliens covered the 20 visible yards from the smoke cover, it was an impossible task

  “B Unit, you see something on me?” Colon asked the tank covering his flank as he readjusted his goggles.

  “Yeah, some ugly coyote thing,” the gunner replied. “I got it.”

  B Unit decimated the mutant with machine gun fire. Another bump rocked his tank, then a harder one. The cover man took out the rabid desert dogs. Then a hulking figure emerged into Colon’s view; a bull almost as large as a truck. It wore an iron face mask. The cowboy yanked on its reigns and smacked its rump, sending it stomping at the commander’s tank.

  “Check your 4 o’clock Klem and cook me up some purple hamburgers,” Colon said.

  The gunner gave the possessed bull the full artillery treatment. It exploded like a blimp of blood and meat. When the dust settled, the cowboy had returned to the shadows.

  “Would you like cheese on that?” Klem asked.

  All became quiet and still. They wouldn’t make this that easy, Colon thought.

  With an eye out for the ones hunting them, Colon led the tank squadron along the edge of the maar lake. He studied the ground, looking for a pipeline or a cord of some kind that powered the fracking equipment. He encountered a large mound, something that had been camouflaged in the sand not far from the shield.

  “Stop,” Colon told the driver. “What is that?”

  “Think it’s a way to get at the fracking equipment and shut this thing down?” Rivera asked.

  “Could be. Let’s have a closer look.”

  As the camera zoomed in, he saw sand and rocks resting upon the mass, almost as wide as the tank. The mound stirred ever so slightly. The hum of machinery, perhaps? No, it breathed. Those were scales.

  “Oh shit. Back up!” Colon shouted.

  Its eyes opened with a blaze of purple so bright it blinded his viewfinder. Hoisting its black and yellow head from its burrow, the massive Gila monster poked its forked tongue at him. Rivera threw the tank into reverse.

  “Target at my 12, cover me!” Colon shouted.

  The supersized reptile’s mouth opened wide and clamped onto the tank before it could get away. Gila monsters were renowned for their bite strength and this alien-enhanced big brother had no problem lifting the 60-ton tank off its treads and dumping it onto its side.

  Rivera’s chest cracked against his instrument panel. “I always hated lizards!”

  Their seat belts kept them from flying all over the place as their world turned 90 degrees. The cabin buckled under the pressure of the powerful jaws. If it cracked and the acid rain seeped inside, they’d lose their skin drop by drop.

  “It can’t chew through our armor, can it?” Klem asked Colon. With their treads off the ground and the super-sized lizard too close to shoot, he couldn’t do a thing besides beg for help and pray.

  “A Unit under attack,” Colon radioed. “Get it off me.”

  Gunfire popped. Two tanks directed small arms fire at the Gila monster, their best option since artillery would have damaged Colon’s tank. The reptile unlocked its jaws and swiftly eyed the other tanks with claws out. The creature brandished hands full of swords.

  The Gila monster’s fast-twitch muscles propelled it at B Unit. It clamped its massive jaws on the hatch and pried it off. It furiously raked its claws over the vehicle as if digging a hole, its claws stabbing through the armor. Klem raked the monster’s back with machine gun fire, creating enough of a distraction so two soldiers could scurry away from the wreckage. The soldier’s didn’t have time to change into their protective suits, but their full-body jackets, helmets and face masks would buy them some time in the acid rain.

  The Gila monster reared its head around at them. The two soldiers stood their ground and opened fire. The gunner charged at the Gila monster’s face and unloaded a clip on it. Chunks of purple flesh flew off, exposing bone. It didn’t matter. Its bite crushed his body like an action figure beneath the tire of a semi. The driver scampered away.

  Swiftly leaping from the curtain of smo
ke, the cowboy blindsided the soldier with a boot to the ribs. What happened next, Colon couldn’t see clearly as a wind gust encircled them with smoke and ash. When the dust cleared, the cowboy hoisted the soldier’s severed head like a trophy.

  Colon removed his goggles in a cold sweat. Gasping for air, Colon smelled the rot of festering death. He traded stares with Rivera and Klem. They couldn’t drive. They couldn’t fire the artillery. All they could do was stew in this steel death trap and hope the other tanks could bail them out.

  “We can’t sit here like this.” Rivera pawed at the useless throttle.

  “I have faith in our men out there, but prepare for external combat,” Colon said. “Cover every inch of your skin with the hazmat suits.”

  “If he can chew his way in here, I’ve got a surprise for him.” Klem grabbed an assault rifle.

  “Remember not to direct your aim inside the hull because the bullets will ricochet,” Colon said.

  “Yes, sir,” Klem responded.

  They had started putting on the hazmat suits over their uniforms when something heavy landed atop their overturned tank. With an ear-piercing screech, its claws peeled into the tank’s armor.

  Colon donned his viewfinder goggles. He needed to see where the ten remaining tanks were. Six of them surrounded him, ready to blast the monster with small arms fire, and perhaps artillery if it got away from their commander’s vehicle.

  The Gila monster could close the distance too fast. Tanks weren’t meant for nose-to-nose combat, not without infantry defending them. Staying in the 20-yard visibility range put all their lives in danger and the small arms fire barely had any impact.

  “All units, this is Brigadier General Colon. Stand down from the reptile. Proceed to the fracking equipment. If it follows you, respond with artillery fire before it gets into range.”

  “Sir, what about you?” asked the driver of C Unit.

  Rivera stared at Colon through the helmet of his hazmat suit with the same question in his eyes. He couldn’t look at the man. Every soldier who had signed up for this mission knew this could happen.