Europa Journal

by Jack Castle

A small army of Tripod’s stepped in Hu-Nan’s path, and Fu-Mar struggled to hold Hu-Nan back.

  “No, Hu-Nan, no!” Harry yelled. He stepped in front of the big Awumpai, his arms raised, “Please Hu-Nan. Another time.”

  Still fighting and still furious, Hu-Nan thrust Harry aside and reached forward to crush a Tripod’s head in his claws before several more Tripods piled on top of him.

  “DO YOU WISH TO DIE, FILTHY ANIMAL?” Khaos asked. He conjured up another fireball above his scepter.

  “No!” Asha cried out from near Ba-Tu’s fallen form. “You made a promise. Let them live.”

  At Asha’s cry, Hu-Nan stopped his struggles and fell limp in his captors’ arms.

  Khaos looked at the followers still in the room. “SO BE IT.”

  Except for Ba-Tu’s labored breathing, there was silence. Harry, Fu-Mar, and Hu-Nan moved near Asha and surrounded their fallen friend.

  A small army of Tripods encircled the group. The Tripods took no chances and pointed their weapons at the Awumpai.

  The Mukarian bowmen, who were no longer under Khaos’s spell, slung their bows upon their backs and bowed their heads in shame. Asha collapsed over Ba-Tu with grief. She looked into Ba-Tu’s eyes, and so much love passed between them with that look that Harry’s throat ached. The princess embraced Ba-Tu, and the Awumpai closed her eyes. When the Tripods pulled Asha away, Ba-Tu was dead.

  Hu-Nan knelt beside his fallen friend. He took Ba-Tu’s hand in his, and a long sorrowful howl escaped his lips.

  Harry clenched his fists and stepped toward the murderous deity. “I don’t know who or what you are, but you are not my God!”

  Several Tripods had formed a barrier between Harry and Atum, and they lurched forward, causing Harry instinctively to take a step back.

  Despite their presence, Harry shouted, “What kind of a god would kill a creature as noble as this!” He gestured toward Ba-Tu.

  “YOU WORDS ARE BLASPHEMOUS, AND YOU SHALL DIE FOR THEM!” the deity said. He formed another fireball and flung it. The energy force streamed toward Harry but struck the princess in the back instead. She had freed herself from the guards’ grasp and leaped into Harry’s arms in one last selfless act, taking Atum’s vengeance in his stead.

  Harry fell to his knees while still holding Asha. His face close to hers, Harry watched the life force drain from her eyes.

  “Don’t lose faith, Harry,” she said. “Don’t lose…” She died before she could finish her sentence.

  Harry hugged her to his chest. He attempted to hold back his sobs but failed. He didn’t even feel the guards’ hands remove her lifeless body from his arms. The kinetic deathblow might as well have torn through his chest as well, for his heart felt as though it were no longer beating. He heard the Awumpai struggling against the tidal wave of Tripods that now swarmed over their bodies, but Harry just didn’t care anymore.

  Asha had been sacrificed to the gods after all.

  Chapter 21

  The Ruins

  Mac piloted the open-air hover chariot over and around numerous hilly peaks while the wind whipped through her hair. With the exception of a few sharp projections, the terrain had been similar since they had left Enoch’s castle. The chariot flew east, toward the approaching ginger colored dawn, and Mac was enjoying both the scenery and the flight.

  Looking behind her, she saw Stein and Brett on either side of the chariot, rifles slung but at the ready. Enoch had returned their gear that morning before sending them out into the wastelands. Tae sat between the two commandos clutching his backpack to his chest as if he thought he’d never see it again. His fingers, meanwhile, were twitching as he stared around with wide eyes at the strange aircraft. She knew he would have loved to tear the chariot apart and put it back together again, just to see what made it tick.

  Leo, wearing sunglasses, sat beside her in the front seat. He looked as though he were enjoying a Sunday afternoon drive. In fact, he had asked to drive several times, but Mac wasn’t ready to give up the wheel just yet.

  “How will we know which ruins are the ones,” Leo made quotation signs with his fingers, “that fell from the sky?”

  On the horizon, Mac had just spotted a crashed spaceship that resembled the Roman Coliseum. It had crashed on its side as though it had taken a nosedive into the planet, more specifically into the side of a mountain. “Oh, I think we’ll know,” she said.

  Tae leaned forward and stuck his head between them. “Looks like a crashed UFO.”

  Leo finally saw the spaceship. “Look at the size of it!” he said. “It’s gotta be the size of a football stadium!”

  The chariot made a low pass over the enormous vessel and the vast amount of wreckage surrounding it. Mac spotted what appeared to be the remains of a single TBM Avenger plane mixed in with the crashed spaceship. Yep, definitely the right one.

  Mac saw a nice open landing spot near the wreckage. “Okay, everybody hang onto something. I’m gonna try and put this bucket down in one piece.”

  “Uh, could you say that again but with a little more confidence next time?” Brett asked from behind her. She glanced back to see him white faced and clutching his seat. She tried not to laugh.

  Much to Brett’s surprise and relief, the hover chariot landed safely and within walking distance of the Avenger wreckage they had spotted from the air.

  “This way,” Stein said. He got his bearings and led them up a trail that wound through the wreckage, which reminded Brett of junkyards he had frequented as a kid back home.

  Looking back, Brett saw that the commander brought up the rear. She had been through so much, but he had never seen her waver. She reminded Brett of the early pioneer women in the West who had hacked their stake right out of the untamed wilderness alongside their men. She was definitely the kind of woman he’d want to settle down with one day.

  Despite his feelings for her, Brett was a realist. Even if we weren’t stranded on an alien planet in another galaxy and even if she weren’t my superior officer, there’s no way someone as strong and beautiful as Mac would ever fall for a big dumb country boy like me, he thought. These and thoughts of alien locusts devouring them before they could escape occupied Brett’s mind for about fifteen minutes, and then he spotted the first Mook.

  The group had been walking steadily up the mountainous trail when the first of many native Mooks revealed itself. It stayed partially hidden amongst the wreckage on the side of the trail, but it certainly took note of their presence. And it had friends. Lots of them.

  “These don’t look like your garden-variety Mooks,” Brett heard Leo say. Brett spied a Mook that hid atop a pile of wreckage. The Mook peered down at him with a menacing look on its face, and unlike the Mooks with which they were familiar, had bones and jewelry piercing its face and skin.

  “I don’t think these Mooks are exactly tame,” Tae said nervously after spotting yet another Mook. This one wore some kind of war paint and had animal bones sticking through its limbs.

  “Maybe they’re an indigenous species,” Brett said. His head swiveled as he scanned their surroundings. Moving closer to Stein, he whispered, “I count at least twenty.” He casually flicked off the safety on his rifle.

  “More like thirty-five,” Stein replied. His rifle’s safety had been off since landing.

  “It’s okay. They’re harmless, remember?” Mac reminded them. Brett could tell that she was eager not to repeat the wall-sentry incident but he was starting to get the vibe that it wasn’t going to be a peaceful encounter either way.

  PHOOTTT! A six-inch dart from a Mook blowgun hit Mac’s shoulder.

  “Harmless, my ass,” Brett said. He fired a quick burst at the Mook holding the blowgun. The direct hit blew the Mook clear off the junk pile on which he stood.

  “Mac, you okay?” Leo ran beside her and pulled the dart out of her shoulder.

  A mob of angry, rub
ber-band-like shouts came from the bottom of the trail. Brett turned to see about a hundred Mooks running up the hillside toward them. A few more jumped out of the wreckage on either side of the trail.

  “Oh, cripes!” Mac said.

  Brett and Stein each emptied a magazine into the nearest of the Mooks. “Reloading,” they shouted in succession as they dropped spent clips and inserted new ones. For the moment, they kept the closest of the advancing Mooks at bay, but the hundred or so coming up the hillside were another problem entirely.

  Both men dropped to their knees, pulled out some charges, and stuck them in the ground on the trail. Brett looked at Mac and the others. “What are you waiting for? Run!” he said.

  Looking at the swarm of angry Mooks, Leo and Tae didn’t need any further urging, and they darted up the trail.

  “What about you?” Mac asked.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll catch up,” Brett said.

  Stein had already finished setting his charge. He jumped to his feet and sprayed a quick burst at the advancing Mooks. Half a dozen went down on the trail and slowed the pace of those behind, but the tidal wave of Mooks continued to advance at an alarming rate.

  “Time to go,” Leo said as he came back down the trail to retrieve Mac, who had frozen in place. Leading her by the arm, he dragged her up the hill.

  Brett finished with his charges, and both commandos soon followed Leo and Mac. The light-footed Mooks were almost upon them.

  “Hit the deck!” Brett yelled while diving behind nearby wreckage for cover. Once Brett was sure Stein was safe, he clicked the detonators three times. “Fire in the hole!”

  The explosion engulfed the first twenty Mooks and blew them apart. Brett and Stein sprayed the few Mooks that had gotten through ahead of the crowd and were stumbling around, stunned by the explosion.

  “That should buy us a little more time,” Brett said. He took one last look over his shoulder, and they were off once more.

  The two commandos easily caught up with the astronauts. The group rounded a bend in the trail together, and then the trail bottlenecked through a tight entranceway that led into a wide, circular dead-end.

  A solid wall of the crashed UFO blocked their path, and the walls of wreckage on either side were just as impassable.

  “Dead-end,” Leo said.

  “No kidding, really?” Brett reminded himself to thank Leo for stating the obvious if they ever got out of this predicament. “How many charges you got left?” he asked Stein.

  “That was my last.” Stein set up behind a small wall of junk that would serve as cover. He began removing his magazines and placing them within easy reach on a slab of scorched metal.

  Brett unslung his rifle and removed his sidearm. He checked that the pistol had a full magazine and a round in the chamber and then threw it to Mac. “Mac, here. Try and keep them at the entrance. We have limited ammo, so pick your targets.” Brett then removed a second pistol from his vest and gave it to Leo. “Here, take these mags and divide them up with the commander,” he ordered.

  Although Leo outranked the commando, it was pretty clear that Brett was the man currently in charge. Leo took the weapon and the magazines from him.

  “You know how to use one of those?” Brett asked.

  “Yeah, this end goes toward the bad guys,” Leo said.

  Brett had to admit it; the young pilot was keeping his cool. Just then, the first three Mooks ran into the bottleneck entrance.

  Stein was first on the trigger and mowed them down. “Reloading,” he yelled while replacing his spent magazine with a fresh one.

  “Covering fire,” Brett yelled back to him, but for now, no more Mooks appeared.

  “How many more of those do you have?” he could hear Tae ask Stein.

  “Six,” Stein answered. He seemed to think for a second and then removed his pistol and handed it to the engineer. “Spare clips are in my magazine pouch on my belt.”

  Tae was reaching for the spare clips when the Mooks swarmed into the funnel. As the commandos knocked the first ones down, other Mooks climbed over their fallen brethren. And when those Mooks fell, the Mooks behind used the pile of bodies for cover as they flung spears, blew darts, and shot arrows at them. When a second arrow flew past his head, Brett decided he was getting tired of playing cowboys and Indians. Fortunately, they had excellent cover and a little bit of range, which made it difficult for the Mooks to hit them.

  “Persistent little guys,” Leo said to Brett.

  The commando noticed that Leo hadn’t wasted a single shot. “Good shootin’, Lieutenant. You would’ve made one hell of a commando.”

  The Mooks abruptly stopped advancing. Everybody held their breath.

  “I think they finally gave up,” Leo said.

  “No,” Brett said, “I hear them climbing the wreckage around us. Alan, how much ammo you got left?”

  “Two magazines, you?”

  Brett sighed; he had hoped for better. “I’m down to my last one, six rounds at that.”

  “I’m out, too,” Mac said.

  Stein looked at Tae, who also had a respectable kill ratio. “How much ammo do you have left?”

  Tae ejected the magazine from his pistol and saw no ammo. “I’ve got one round left in the chamber.”

  “You might want to save that for yourself,” Stein said.

  Tae threw Stein a dirty look.

  Brett hoped Stein wasn’t right, but these Mooks were savages. Who knew what kind of torture they were capable of?

  A Mook suddenly jumped up on the wall behind Brett and Leo. Neither of the two men saw it aiming its spear down on them. BANG! The dead Mook fell off the wall and landed between the two men. Well, that decides that, Brett thought as Tae stared at the dead Mook through the smoke of last shot.

  “Thanks, Tae,” Leo shouted. He asked Brett, “So what do we do now?”

  “Ain’t nothing but a thing, chicken wing. We just beat them the good old fashion way.” Brett grinned and unsheathed his long, jagged survival knife. He buried it in the soft metal nearby for when the time came.

  He reached for the knife only seconds later when the Mooks again swarmed the entrance. Brett and Leo were closest to the entrance and went first to hand-to-hand combat. Brett used every trick in the book: he tossed Mooks right and left, bashed their heads against the walls, stabbed them, and sliced their throats. Leo had trouble with just the two Mooks in front of him and the third on his back.

  Mac came to Leo’s aid and whacked one Mook upside the head with a pipe she had found amongst the wreckage, but she, too, was soon overwhelmed by Mooks.

  Stein fought like a man possessed and killed Mook natives as fast with his knife as he had earlier with his gun. But even the big giant was wearing down. One Mook sliced his knee, while another blew a dart into his back.

  Their little Alamo had been overrun, and there was no escape. In a matter of seconds, it would be over, and they would all end up in Mook stew.

  Brett knew it. They were finished.

  TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

  Heavy machine gun fire from overhead dropped scores of Mooks around the humans. Mooks were shredded by the dozens, and those that tried to flee were cut down from behind.

  When the shooting finally stopped, Stein and Brett made short work of the remaining Mooks and then stood guard near the entrance. Tae joined Mac and Leo, who looked up at the wall behind them and tried to spot their benefactor.

  Just then, a man appeared. He had dark, wavy hair and wore khaki pants and a bomber jacket. He put his boot up on the edge of the wall and peered down at the group. The distinct nose of a .50-caliber machine gun was visible on the ground next to him.

  “It’s freaking Indiana Jones!” Leo exclaimed. Brett stared at the pilot, worried he’d taken a hit to the head and then realizing at the last moment that it
was a classic movie reference.

  “Who?” Tae asked.

  Before Leo could answer, the man in the bomber jacket called down to them, “You all right down there?”

  “Yeah,” Mac said, “thanks to you.” Brett found himself frowning at her tone. Captain Harry Reed was alive, and he had just come to their rescue, and Brett wasn’t at all sure that he liked the effect it was having on Mac.

  Chapter 22

  Final Resting Place

  Mac couldn’t help but stare at the rescue pilot sitting across the smoldering campfire, resting his elbows on his knees and holding a tin cup of sweet smelling coffee in both hands. He was taller than she would have imagined and had dark-brown hair, with graying temples. His wavy bangs had grown out and hung over his eyes. Unlike her former husband, who was always clean shaven and wore a suit to work every day, Captain Reed had a rugged look, with his five-o’clock shadow and his worn flight jacket.

  Mac did some quick mental calculating and determined that he had to be at least 254 years old: it was 223 years since he had vanished in the Bermuda Triangle, and records showed that he was thirty-one at the time of his disappearance. The ruggedly handsome pilot didn’t look much older than thirty-five. Mac decided that he was precisely the sort of man who could build the frickin’ Swiss Family Robinson tree house — complete with a two-car garage and a swimming pool fed by a bamboo aqueduct — after being dropped in the jungle with only a pocketknife.

  #

  After Harry had saved them from the Mooks, he had lowered a rope into the ruins. Brett and Stein had climbed up first and then pulled the rest up.

  Introductions had been made, and then Harry had led them to his camp, which was about a quarter of a mile farther up the grassy mountainside. To Mac’s surprise, it was a fairly respectable camp that included a pitched tent, a small fire pit, a clothesline, and an aqueduct system that caught and stored rainwater. Harry had rigged the aqueduct system to serve as a shower, too, which only confirmed Mac’s Swiss Family Robinson tree-house theory. He had also mounted a .60-caliber gun on a makeshift tripod behind a homemade metal bunker.