“Well, there's no time to worry about that now. You guys round up everyone you can find within the next five minutes and get somewhere safe. The aliens are on their way.”
“Shit!” the first guard said. Both men were frozen in place.
“Move!” Frank shouted.
* * *
Frank's gaze was skyward as they exited the building. “Damn, I wish I had my suit.”
“Just a moment, Frank.” She fell silent for a couple of seconds. “On your right.” He looked up in time to catch the dry blob before it hit the ground.
“How did you do that?” he asked as he raised up his hoodie and t-shirt, then slapped the blob on his bare chest. It quickly spread itself out all over his body. He could feel it working its way inside his underwear then down his pant legs.
“I had an automech position it above a hatch. It has been programmed to assist us with such tasks.”
“Good thinking. So where do you want to go?”
“That's your area, Frank. The White House?”
“No, I mean where do you want to go when we're done here? Some awesome planet where the rivers are made out of booze, I hope.”
“Nuun. We could find a nice desolate place and just take a break.”
“Ah yes, a vacation. I've heard of those. To the White House it is then.”
“They are nearly upon us. I need to move the ship clear. Hold me.” She flew into his hand and he took off in a jog toward the Washington monument. He felt the orb move slightly after a short time and he let go so she could fly it herself.
“They'll beat us there. I'm sure the President is in a bunker or something. I'm pretty sure it's deep underground. They don't like going under ground, according to Bett.”
“So what's your plan then?”
“Oh, I'm just going to go talk to them.”
* * *
Frank was full out running when he spotted a few dozen vessels making their approach. One by one they landed, but to Frank's surprise, no domes went up. Then all at once a single gigantic dome appeared. It seemed to cover several square miles.
“I didn't know they could do that,” he said.
“I didn't either,” Gladosanthos replied.
One ship landed between him and the Washington Monument in the grass near Fourteenth street. Its ramp dropped and dozens of Rotinoms and Mingrein poured out. Before he could unsheathe his sword, his phone rang. It was Deon.
“Hello, Deon.”
“Frank, Bett said those are the Brethren.”
“What's that mean?”
“He says they are first generation Mingrein. I guess they are super tough.”
“Well, they certainly are big. And they look hungry.”
“Just watch yourself. We're pulling for you.”
“Thanks. Have a nice day.” He hung up his phone and placed it in his pocket. He unsheathed his sword but before he could charge at them, he noticed they stopped dead in their tracks, smelled the air, noticed him, and began charging at him in unison. None of these Mingrein carried guns. They were only armed with gigantic great blades. The craftsmanship was noticeably inferior but they were still quite impressive. When Frank met the first one, he could tell that it had no defined fighting style at all. It was running on pure instinct. It's size, strength, and speed were much greater than those he had faced before, but it was clumsy, and disorganized in it's thoughts. Frank cut it down easily and moved on to another. Two were on him at once. He then realized that their entire mindset revolved around eating him. They didn't care to be ceremonious about it either. One came across with a diagonal slash of his great blade and Frank instinctively went to block it. The size and weight of the lizard's blade shattered Frank's sword and he barely evaded the strike. Pulling his second sword he promised himself he wouldn't try that again as he decapitated one, then impaled the other.
“Behind you,” Gladosanthos called out as one of the Brethren was trying a sneak attack. Frank spun and cut it's sword hand off at the wrist before backing into a position to keep them all in front of him. To his surprise, the one handed Mingrein simply picked up his blade with his other hand and continued his attack. Frank then cut off the other hand. The beast kept charging so Frank removed his head.
“It's just a flesh wound!” he joked as he continued slaughtering the reptiles.
“I'm afraid I don't get the reference,” Gladosanthos said.
“Oh, I have so much to show you. I'll have to break out my movie rental card.”
“I look forward to it.”
The Mingrein kept coming until Frank had killed every one of them that had poured out of the ship. He stopped to take a breather, noticing the Rotinoms were just standing around, looking for something to target.
“Well, at least the suit's working,” he said flatly as he began cutting them down. “This is going to take forever.”
“You could take out the generator.”
“They'd just fall back and regroup. I need to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“Am I supposed to kill every single Mingrein? I don't like the idea of genocide.”
“I'd prefer to not kill any of them. Unfortunately, they aren't giving us a choice.”
“Noted. I wonder if there are more of them like Bett.”
“I would like to know that as well. We need to spare the innocent whenever possible.”
“Agreed. Once again, we are on the same page.” They made their way to the next vessel that was blocking their way to the White House. Frank could see in the distance what appeared to be a large landing craft parked very near the White House, and it had what appeared to be the functioning dome generator on top of it. It was similar looking to the generator from the raid in Texas, but much, much larger.
* * *
“Taylor, how are we looking up top?” Dave spoke into his phone, peering out of a sewer grate.
“They're shooting down everything we're throwing at them. Choppers, A-10s, F-18s, cruise missiles. They have really advanced anti-aircraft tech. We got nothing.”
“We'll stick to the plan. Out.” He pressed the button to end the call and looked at the Marines that have been assigned to him. “Bob and weave, boys. Bob and weave.”
The Wrecking Crew were split up and each man was assigned a group of Marines to command. Their headsets were still within range of each other, and Dave was in command of the entire ground operation. In addition to all the Marines in the subway tunnels and sewers, there were snipers and sharp shooters from every branch of the military and SWAT teams positioned in windows and various high vantage points.
New York City, while deserted by normal standards, still had pedestrian traffic, and people foolishly attempting to go about their daily lives despite the impending danger. When the ships finally landed and emptied, a blood lust set in with the Mingrein, and several people lost their lives straight away. Many of the beasts were practicing their ceremonious consumption. Some victims had their heads split after watching their appendages being eaten. Others were left to bleed to death in the streets. As expected, small arms fire had little effect on the advancing lizards, but high powered rifles were working, and working well. Backpackers, however, proved themselves adept at locating the shooters and showering them with thousands of projectiles, with the high velocity of their tiny bullets shredding Kevlar like paper.
“We've got four ships worth here, guys. Keep in mind that Frank has three and he's pretty much alone,” Dave said through his headset.
“Well, someone needs to tell him to hurry the hell up and bail us out!” Chavez joked.
“The sewer seems to be masking our scent,” Dave said. “Keep to your objectives.” He was referring to the plan of traveling through the sewers to where they could be in short range to fire rocket propelled grenades at the Mingrein dome generators.
Dave and his men made their way down the large sewer pipe. Eventually they came upon another grate. He motioned for silence as he went to take a peek. There was a lone backpacker standing in
the street, looking for something to shoot. Dave pulled his second side arm, a special .22 caliber pistol with a silencer. He took aim and fired one round into the little gray alien's head. It fell lifeless and Dave ducked down, waiting for repercussions. Nothing happened so he chanced another peek. There was nothing except the heap of an alien. So he motioned his men to push on. Once they were clear of any grates, he pulled out the map with the sewer diagram overlaid onto the streets.
“There's an intersection up ahead. We turn left and then a couple hundred feet to the center of this dome. We're going silent from here on out,” he whispered to his men.
“Sir, we have sounds up ahead,” a private said, keeping low tones.
Dave motioned for everyone to hold their position and he went ahead to the intersection. There was nothing to the right that he could see. He held his night vision goggles up to his eyes to double check. They confirmed the right tunnel was clear. He changed positions to check the left. He could make out four Rotinoms about a hundred feet away. He motioned to his men again. Taking a couple of deep breaths, Dave pulled off his helmet. With a gesture of his hand he pulled his varitherm suit upward so it covered his shaved head to just above his eyes. Another gesture brought the front up to just under his nose, covering his mouth. “I hope this thing still works,” he thought to himself.
He silently rounded the corner, with every step under his close scrutiny. Two of the grays were actually facing his direction but they didn't seem to see him. Slowly and steadily, he made his way toward them until he was close enough to fire and be sure of not missing his mark. He went four for four, and found himself having to pull their carcasses to the side so the tunnel could be passable. After pausing to be sure the area was clear, he went back for his men. Just then an explosion in the near distance rocked the tunnel.
“Situation report!” he half-talked, half-whispered into his headset.
“We have tanks coming up Fifth Avenue, Sarge,” Potts replied.
“Are they doing any good?”
“No sir, they're getting blown to bits.” Another explosion rocked the tunnel.
“How many tanks did they send?”
“Four total. There's still two left. They're firing the same missiles that took out all those choppers.”
“Shit. Maybe we can use this as a distraction.” Pulling the map out again and double checking his position, he motioned to the private near the rear to hand forward the RPG. “Stay back guys, this might not go well.”
Ducking, he entered a side tunnel that was only about four feet in diameter. After about fifty feet he came to a ladder that led up to the street. As quietly as he could climb with the extra burden of the RPG, he made his way and slowly raised one side of the man-hole cover to take a peek. He saw the ship, a Mingrein freighter, and then he saw the generator on top of it. He lowered that side and slowly raised the opposite side. There were two Mingrein, standing guard behind a line of four backpackers, facing the opposite way. He could hear their alien chatter, and those haunting laughs. Reaching down with his free arm, he unstrapped the RPG from his shoulder and prepared it for firing. Once it was ready, he carefully held it between his knees and flipped the lid upward. It wasn't easy as it was so heavy, but his adrenaline was really pumping and before he knew it, he was aiming and firing. He dropped the spent weapon and slid down the ladder as quick as he could. The explosion happened before he was at the bottom of the ladder. He dove to the side just in case any shrapnel, or aliens, were on their way down after him.
“Nice shot, Sarge!” Chavez said through the headset. “Visibility is too poor for long range shots right now.”
“Give it a minute. That fog will clear soon. Take out the backpackers first. I'll get as many as I can from down here.”
“On it.”
24.
“This is taking way too long.”
“These aren't average Mingrein, Frank,” Gladosanthos replied.
“Where the hell is everyone? This place should be crawling with Marines. And Army guys.”
“I'll go up and have a look.” Her orb elevated to where he could no longer see it. He was standing behind a turtle, having killed everything aboard already, as well as all those from it's pods. After a couple of minutes, she returned.
“There are several crashed Earth aircraft within a two mile radius. Evidently the Mingrein are shooting everything down quite easily. I spotted a group of soldiers fighting their way through the line from the North. There are more beyond the river, but the bridges are well covered by the enemy.”
“Dammit. So much for being prepared. Oh well, if you want something done....” He picked up a random Mingrein great blade and smashed it through the windshield of the turtle. “I don't want them running out on us.”
“So much for not committing genocide.”
“Something tells me this particular group of Mingrein won't be missed.” He came around the disabled ship in a full sprint and headed straight toward the final vessel that stood between him and Groll's ship. Carrying his sheathed sword in his left hand, he reached into his pouch and produced a shuriken, which quickly found it's way into a backpacker's forehead. He pulled another and repeated the feat with another gunner. His third shuriken found it's way into a Mingrein's forehead, but it didn't have the desired affect. The enraged lizard charged him, catching Frank's blade with his throat. Not taking the time to reclaim his throwing stars, Frank dispatched three more beasts before again stopping to catch his breath.
“Did you see that? That star was nearly buried and all it did was piss him off!”
“This confirms that these are the first generation Mingrein that Bett told us about.”
“Tough bastards. We better keep moving.” He peered around the freighter to view Groll off in the distance at the front door of the White House. Several Rotinoms were filing out of the building. Groll was looking in the door, as if afraid to enter. Frank could hear him yelling at the other Mingrein but he couldn't make out the words.
“What did he just say?”
“Go, my brothers. Feed.”
“Yikes. There must be innocent people inside still. The President is in a bunker. Groll thinks he's gonna answer the doorbell himself.”
“What's your play?”
“I was thinking about going over there and killing Groll. Is that cool?”
“Oh, I suppose.”
* * *
“This is like, the craziest action movie ever. But crazier,” Deon was saying as they sat in the tiki bar watching the live feed. On several occasions Denise had to turn her head. She was viewing Frank quite differently now. He wasn't the same man that she had found so attractive before. Now he was a crazed warrior, covered in blood, most of which was not his own.
“It's interesting that Frank is actually using very little of what I taught him. At least he isn't spinning,” Hiro said. “Is anyone hungry? I'm going to go get a snack.”
“I don't have much of an appetite, but thanks,” Denise replied.
“Could you grab me a beer on your way back?” Deon asked. Terrelle could only sit and watch in silence.
* * *
“Fog's lifting. We're going to open up.”
“Good hunting, Chavez,” Dave replied. His own efforts were fruitful. With the dome down, the lizards were slowing down. The grays were in a state of confusion and he was able to shoot most of the backpackers from the cover of the sewer grates. He found a good angle from which to watch the Mingrein fall as Chavez and his group of snipers delivered high powered bullets into their thick skulls. Once they were done, Dave and his men emerged to do a sweep of the area. There were only a couple of stragglers. Rotinoms were standing, waiting for new instructions, but only finding death.
He dialed Taylor and when he answered, Dave asked, “How many more domes are up? This one is clear.”
“Nice work. We are looking at twenty-seven more. The closest one is up three blocks to the north, over one to the east. It's a small one.”
“Twenty
-seven? How is Jones doing?”
“It might not have been the best call to send the big guy into the sewer.”
“He ain't that big. Out.” Dave chuckled at the thought of Jones crawling through the smaller pipes, and getting stuck. “Okay guys, North three blocks and then locate an entry point. Everyone look sharp.”
* * *
Frank was making his way toward Groll's ship when movement up top caught his attention. “What the hell is that?” he asked as a mechanical arm unfolded from somewhere on top of the vessel and attached itself to the dome generator. Adeptly, the alien crane picked up the generator and placed it down on the ground. Then another, identical generator raised from inside the hold to take it's place. “I sure wasn't expecting that.”
“Me either,” Gladosanthos replied. Groll barked out more orders and turned to board the ship.
“Shit!” Frank exclaimed as he began running even faster. “What did he just say?”
“Kill everyone. The others are gathering food.”
“Shit!” he exclaimed again as Groll's ship lifted off and headed north. The sound of machine guns was getting closer. Frank decided to take out the generator first before entering the building to dispose of the Brethren that were still inside. But upon inspecting the box, he saw he wasn't equipped to destroy it. “Maybe there's some type of armory room inside. Watch my back.”
“Always, Frank.”
They were greeted by a particularly large Mingrein as they entered the open door. Frank disarmed it by cutting off the hand that held it's blade before cutting it's throat. Kicking it to the floor, he surveyed the scene. The dead lay in various positions around the building. A random Rotinom rounded the corner and walked straight into Frank's sword. Guns shots from upstairs caught his attention so he bounded up the steps to find what appeared to be a secret service member trying to defend himself from a hungry lizard. The bullets were only agitating it as it stopped to shake it's head with every strike. Frank flew in from behind and removed its head from its body.
Custodian_Monster of Earth Book One Page 23