A sob came from his lips as he considered the defending soldiers’ horrifying plight, another shuddered gasp as high powered mortar rounds fell around the structure, flashes reflecting off the glass building as the upper defenders opened fire, tracers sweeping southwards towards the advancing Morgons. Explosions from rockets rocked the higher stories, blinding dust and debris thrown from the structure, his mind mesmerised as bodies were seemingly tossed from the upper floors. The tall building seemed to shudder, explosions lighting up the lower building fronts on either side, flames surging upwards with billowing black clouds. Ferocious firing broke out in response, heavy machine guns rattling from high above as large calibre sniper shots echoed across the structures, distant chilling shrieks of anger filling the streets.
Then a sonic boom caused him to shudder as jets swept southwards along the Hudson, the two US pilots banking sharply to the west, his head turning instinctively as the shattering glass of building windows in the aircrafts’ wake showered fleeing people below from the structures. Distant screams of pain and agony filled his ears, a misted vision glimpsing the chasing black craft, guns belching flame and bright laser fire as they closed on the desperately fleeing US flyers.
Further shouts, his head shaking as he turned away, glimpsing his distant colleague gesturing to him frantically between running people, a dark pistol raised in one hand, the female marine retching on her knees next to the NYPD sergeant’s black uniform. Lunging forward, he coughed uncontrollably, behind double and vomiting further in rising panic as he struggled to remain upright, scraping and jarring his fingers and hands on the tarmac to thrust forward, pain shooting through his churning stomach and chest as he swallowed continuously, further screams filling his now more coherent and rapidly clearing senses.
Davis’s body began shaking in fright as he heard frantic shouts around him, heightened terrified screams in nearby streets, one nearby male voice seeming to break through the panic, ‘They are coming up through the manhole covers…fucking cutting people to pieces!’
Stumbling once more, he winced in pain as his ankle twisted, pushing himself upwards to struggle on, a hand rising to wipe the acidic vomit from his mouth, his head shaking and realising his other hand held his pistol, his emotions spinning in shock.
Lunging forward and away from the horrifying sights, his thoughts were spiralling, unable to focus on anything other than two terrifying notions…NYPD Officer Davis Michael’s beloved New York was falling and he realised through almost blinding emotional pain that his fiancé and mother were probably already dead.
Southern Boston, Eastern United States
US Marine Private First Class Rodrigues’s ears were ringing, blood running down his cheeks from the perforated eardrums, his body scrambling onto some rocks as he gasped, hands cut and bleeding, his uniform and body armour heavy and soaked. Gasping for breath, his eyes widened as he glimpsed the massive grey ship further west, the skyscrapers of Boston behind as the loud crunching sound wave swept towards him, his head jolting as a hand slapped his shoulder, his eyes widening upon recognising his saviour, the younger US Marine that had thrown him from the bridge of the aircraft carrier.
Rodrigues shouted loudly in distain, his ears still ringing as he pointed, ‘They have reached the inner harbour!’
The younger soaked Marine glanced round, staring in awe as he heard the cracking and squealing of metal, US Coastguard boats crumpling and being crushed beneath the immense bow, the Gerald R. Ford aircraft carrier powering through the makeshift barrier and into the harbour at full speed.
His eyes strained as he heard further loud cracks, other boats swept to one side or smashed beneath the bow, the enormous aircraft carrier shuddering and turning slowly north west, heading further into the channel and inner harbour. The immense boat thundered behind the international airport, the deserted planes of numerous carriers sat stationary on the tarmac before the low terminal buildings, the aircraft carrier grinding against the sea walls behind, the shrill scream of metal ringing out across the harbour.
Then he glimpsed the hovering helicopters, black dots against the grey skyline, the flashes of gunfire from open side doors followed by the booming sound some four seconds later, streams of light sweeping from side rocket launchers on the aircraft as pilots weaved and desperately attempted to stop the colossal vessel. Further grinding and then a large explosion, black smoke plumes billowing upwards before the skyscrapers, the Tobin Memorial bridge collapsing as the carrier shuddered abruptly to a halt, distant faint shrieks as the Morgon invaders charged from the hold and out into the dull light.
The marine turned away, slapping Rodrigues’s shoulder and indicating up the slope behind them, multi-coloured trees and bushes filling his vision along with a lush aroma of moist leaves and sap. His eyes looked upwards to the tall white Long Island Headlight lighthouse further up the rising slope as Rodrigues warily struggled to his feet, his eyes still strained on the distant harbour, the chatter of machine gunfire and explosions beyond his damaged hearing.
The waves lapped against his boots below, the Latino glancing down into the dark water, his head shaking in pain from throbbing ears, jarred and scratched hands rising tenderly to the drying blood along his jawline, his scoped assault rifle lost in the channel depths approaching Boston harbour.
Lifting his head, he stared out across the waves, oblivious to the gunfire cracks echoing across the harbour, his eyes widening as he leant forward, straining his sight as he gasped. The water further out from Long Island seemed to surge and bubble, churning and swirling as lights flashed through the surf. Foam formed in large patches, seeming to almost boil as the waves rose and fell, gaining ferocity as the Latino soldier backed away in horror, his body falling backwards onto the steep rocky incline behind as he desperately reached for his holstered semi-automatic hip pistol.
The younger US Marine behind turned from the trees, hearing the crackle of stones, his body tensing as he stared out into the surging dark water in rising fear. The sea churned further, black swirling pools seeming to form across the surface, his body lunging forward to grasp the shoulders of his fallen comrade at the water’s edge, voice rising in engulfing fear, ‘We need to go now buddy!’ Dragging the Latino marine back across the shoal, their boots slipped and slid on the wet pebbles as he lost his balance, falling roughly backwards.
Both men lay on the rocks briefly, their eyes staring out into the water as the waves rose and fell, lights flashing beneath as solid sloped frame seemed to rise from the frothing sea, water cascading off the sleek surfaces, the dark black alloy rising further as steam poured upwards, the powerful engines boiling and evaporating the churning waves beneath.
The marines spun round, scrambling away across the rocks in rising panic, both chests heaving as they lunged for the trees, slipping and sliding across the shoal in their dripping and soaked clothing, heavy body armour slowing their progress.
Behind them, the nine sleek black craft slowly turned in the air, water pouring from the hulls, the pilots and rear gunners staring through drenched cockpit windows, shrieks of adrenalin fuelled lust echoing beneath black armoured plate as they glimpsed the tracer fire across the buildings ahead.
Rodrigues glanced back over his shoulder in horror, feeling the heat sweep across his back, his countryman also looking back at the throbbing pulse of motors, sizzling of steam as water fell over the roaring exhausts, the turbulent air seeming to tremble as the pilots warmed their engines.
The young marine shouted in alarm, half dragging the Latino across the rocks, a whine of determination coming from his lips as further black gleaming craft emerged from the depths, the vessels slightly smaller and with only one pilot, ‘Fighter bombers and their escorts…we have to run!’
The two men scrambled into the trees, bushes lashing their faces as they struggled upwards, branches cracking on either side as the craft engines whirred, steam billowing around the frames as the water surged in their wake, the Morgon vessels shooting forward towar
ds the stricken city, flashes illuminating the skyscrapers as explosions echoed in the streets.
As the two marines clawed their way upwards towards the lighthouse through the trees, many armoured bodies broke the surface of the dark water, heading for the harbour and bright lights ahead. Several nearer the shore turned, red sparkling helmeted eyes scanning the trees, their squad commander indicating for nine figures to follow him as he swam towards the rocks.
Behind then, a submerged grey transport craft broke the surface, water cascading off the wide roof as it turned in the waves, the vessel churning towards the nearby shore as the front loading platform lowered, mechanics whirring from within along with a subdued snarl, sharp claws raking the rutted steel walkway beneath.
New York, a bitten Big Apple: Holland Tunnel
NYPD Officer Davis Michaels turned left, gasping in the billowing smoke as the light faded in the sky above, his head turning to face the south, waving to his colleague and the female military volunteer, the two struggling and jostling between other hurrying pedestrians, the older policeman dragging the young woman’s arm forward.
The high building walls and shop fronts rose up on either side of the street, the sounds of distant furious gunshots sweeping towards them as national guard rear units fought desperately against the advancing Morgons. Street lights now flickered and surged, the reflection of flames across the deserted wet vehicle hulls and dirt encrusted faces, numerous lights overhead shorting, the shattering and crunching of glass underfoot now intermingled with screams as sharp shards cut through flesh. Abandoned cars and buses sat at angles across the thoroughfare, a number burning as residents and workers ran past on foot to escape the merciless slashing blades and gunfire behind.
Further continuous gunfire rattled to the east and north, several muffled explosions as Davis wiped the sweat from his brow, the black NYPD shirt now stained with sodden dust. Smoke drifted across the fleeing civilians, discarded belongings and boxes strewn across the illuminated sidewalks and streets between the vehicles. Fires raged in buildings further into Manhattan Island, the exhausted NYPD officer glancing round as heat swept over him, further explosions to the north as the roar of jets swept over the streets, the sound wave tearing along wide thoroughfares as an air battle continued further north. In the distance he could just hear helicopter blades, the sound from further west and across the Hudson, numerous soldiers being dropped by ropes to bolster defences on the west side of the river.
Davis turned once more as the clatter of metal tracks and the burble of deep engines could be heard, military vehicles surging southwards further to the east as sirens wailed across the high building walls. Looking back westwards, the queue of stationary and abandoned traffic lined both carriageways into the tunnel mouth, several doors open as his eyes moved to the infamous height restriction sign above, the measurement followed by ‘We Mean It!’ failing to amuse him as it usually had, his eyes straining as he realised the overhead and side lights in Holland tunnel were flickering.
The two others drew next to him, gasping for breath as others thrust past, two small children crying as a woman dragged them towards the tunnel, shocked and bloodied office workers in dust covered suits jogging past as the shattering of glass sounded to the north, the officers grimacing as they glimpsed the distant youths throwing broken masonry through shop fronts...looting had begun. Davis shook his head and gestured into the darkened tunnel, ‘We need to get to the other side of the Hudson…this is the best bet I think…we may be safe on the other side...’
His approaching colleague nodded, the shocked wide eyed female shaking her head, the policeman’s hand grasping her arm tighter, the other on his holstered pistol, his face flushed and glistening with sweat. Both ducked as an explosion roared from further east, flames and thick black smoke billowing upwards into the dark sky, their bodies stiffening as they glimpsed the jet black fighter sweep east through the swirling cloud, an armoured personnel carrier on the further intersection burning fiercely along with two nearby lorries, several bodies struggling or laying prone on the tarmac in the intense heat, the older officer shouting hoarsely, ‘We can’t stay here…the enemy is taking the island…’ They ducked as an explosion erupted nearby, screaming and shrieking, the crack of sniper rifles from the rooftops as a forward sections of marines previously dropped from helicopters attempted to delay any invaders that emerged from the smoke and corners further south.
Davis gritted his teeth as more people surged past, several whimpering or crying in fear, gunfire erupting in a nearby street as he instinctively drew his pistol and raised it upwards for safety, another burst of machine gun fire causing him to duck. His sight strained as he glimpsed the looters running in terror towards the north, his eyes widening as one bucked several times, the close gunfire from a side alley almost cutting the youth in two as the bloodied corpse collapsed onto the tarmac between two abandoned vehicles.
Nervous energy and fear swept through his frame as his heart pounded hard, acid rising from his stomach as he coughed, ‘They are all around us...we need to move now...’ He pushed the other two forward towards the tunnel, shrieking at the fleeing people around, ‘Into the Holland Tunnel...run as fast as you can!’
Another jet swept overhead, the roar of engines deafening, the aircraft banking sharply and rising as the pilot fled from Manhattan towards Jersey City, a Morgon fighter surging after its prey, the older policeman shouting desperately over the sound waves at the people around them, ‘They have lost the air battle…we need to get out!’
Davis Michaels waved people past, most now startled and in shock, oblivious to the policeman’s uniform, their bodies jolting as the loud sniper fire from above became more rapid, a heavy machine gun barking from another roof top as the officer spun round, tracers sweeping eastwards along the carriageway as the policeman shook his head, biting his lower lip. Burning bodies now lay in the distance around the destroyed military vehicles, surviving soldiers sprinting away from the intersection as the high calibre rounds from above sparked and bounced across the tarmac behind them.
Then his blood ran cold, glimpsing the black armoured figures moving on the other side of the rising flames, the air quivering from the heat, the hand on his pistol tightening in rising terror as he glimpsed the sparkle of blades slashing from side to side, the flashing of assault rifles as other enemy soldiers returned fire on the sniper positions.
Gasping, he felt the tightness in his chest and turned, shouting hoarsely at the civilians and now some retreating national guard soldiers, ‘Into the tunnel...run!’
Boston Harbour in Flames
US Marine Private First Class Rodrigues pulled himself further up the steep bank, grasping at branches and low bushes for support, the younger soldier ahead of him, the crack of broken twigs beneath his boots as he struggled upwards to near the edge of the trees above, the lights cascading through overhanging foliage and leaves.
The soundwaves of distant explosions swept towards them, a low wailing siren beginning to sound between muffled gunfire, the fighting in Boston harbour erupting further as national guardsmen joined regular marines and coast guard defenders in a desperate attempt to repel Morgon shock troops. Clambering from the lower crippled hold of the Gerald R. Ford, high powered sniper rifles cracked from the upper decks as Morgon sharp shooters claimed the lives of inexperienced or naïve human officers and troops, the shocked soldiers emerging briefly from behind buildings aghast at the devastation as more hardened veterans shouted frantically for them to remain in cover.
Morgon fighter bombers swept over office and exclusive apartment blocks, small black revolving barrels dropping from open holds into the vehicle packed streets below, horns blaring in the stationary lines of cars and delivery vans as frustrated drivers attempted to escape the loud gunfire behind.
Flames shot upwards with billowing black smoke, the vehicles incinerated in the acidic inferno, the celebrating shrieking pilots unleashing a new weapon similar to napalm, but far more toxic. Cloud
s of polluted burning air billowed across the building fronts, seeping through window openings and over balconies, residents asphyxiated or blinded in the fumes in their apartments, their furnishings igniting to end the lives of any hidden survivors.
The cars burned in an inferno below, paint smouldering and bubbling as it was melted from polluted and scorched steel, the occupants’ seared and lifeless charred bodies still aflame inside. Windows began to smoulder and disintegrate as the crumpled dried and charcoal caked frames of pedestrians crumpled and shattered in the toxic firestorm, numerous approaching army vehicles either completely consumed or reversing away as several smouldering volunteers turned to run in panic.
All along the harbour, buildings became engulfed in fire, the Morgon vessels sweeping past to bomb and strafe positions behind. Screaming and burning human soldiers threw themselves into the churning water, many bodies consumed by the acid that now seeped from the quaysides down bubbling brick and stone, the others in safer areas dragged under the waves by powerful approaching enemy troops.
The escalating fires joined to become an inferno, sucking the oxygen from the air and depriving any unfortunate survivors of the last comforts of dwindling existence. The flames consumed everything in the lower harbour, a firestorm engulfing anything that would burn, fuel, furnishings and the contents of warehouses erupting in the intense heat.
Black armoured figures swept up the river, the water sizzling above as the alien soldiers slowly consumed the oxygen supply in their helmets, their muscular bodies powering against the diminished tide. The surging and frothing water was constricted by the immense crashed vessel ahead, churning past shattered pleasure boats and the sinking hulls of coast guard or security launches on either side. Burning debris filled the waterways, Morgon soldiers streaming into the Mystic and Chelsea Rivers and making their way further upstream to clamber into choked streets, horrified screams and the crackle of gunfire driving the invaders on in rising blood lust.
Planet Genocide II: Galaxies Collide 5: Onslaught Page 11