by Mark Tufo
INDIAN HILL 4: FROM THE ASHES
Mark Tufo
Electronic Edition
Copyright 2014 Mark Tufo
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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Dedications: To my wife, to another chapter!
To Kimberly Sansone, thank you for taking the time to help make this book be the best that it can!
To James Cummings, who put a face to Drababan, thank you for that! Please visit him at webpages.charter.net/zerostrife
As always to the brave men and women of the United States Military, Thank you all for your sacrifice for our Great Nation.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 01 - Mike Journal Entry 01
Chapter 02 - Genogerian Encampment - Outlands U.S.
Chapter 03 - Mike Journal Entry 02
Chapter 04 - Paul
Chapter 05 - Mike Journal Entry 03
Chapter 06 - Paul
Chapter 07 - Mike Journal Entry 04
Chapter 08 - The Guardian
Chapter 09 - Mike Journal Entry 05
Chapter 10 - Mike Journal Entry 06
Chapter 11 - Mike Journal Entry 07
Chapter 12 - Tracy
Chapter 13 - Mike Journal Entry 08
Chapter 14 - Tracy
Chapter 15 - Alex
Chapter 16 - Tracy
Chapter 17 - Paul
Chapter 18 - Mike Journal Entry 09
Chapter 19 - Tracy
Chapter 20 - Paul
Chapter 21 - Drababan
Chapter 22 - Paul
Chapter 23 - Mike Journal Entry 10
Chapter 24 - Tracy
Chapter 25 - Mike Journal Entry 11
Chapter 26 - Tracy
Chapter 27 - Mike Journal Entry 12
Chapter 28 - Paul
Chapter 29 - Mike Journal Entry 13
Chapter 30 - Drababan
Epilogue
Prologue
My name is Michael Talbot and I’m a Colonel in the United Earth Marines Corps. (Okay, Lieutenant Colonel, but it sounds way cooler to say Colonel.) It has been three years since I was part of a revolution of Genogerians (a supposed sub-species to the Progerians) and more importantly, the repelling of a hostile alien takeover of our planet. We were able to overthrow the command inside the Scout Ship Julipion and take control. Once the necessary repairs were completed, we renamed it the Guardian. For three years we (and I use that liberally—I really mean man in general) have torn apart and rebuilt damn near the entire ship as we learned the Progerians’ advanced technology. The Genogerians we have come to ally with have proven far more useful than the Progerians ever thought them capable. They had only ever used the Genogerians for basically their grunt work—lifting heavy stuff, guarding things and expendable ground troops as planets were discovered.
Earth had the unfortunate luck of being found by the Progerians some five years previous. During the attempted takeover, I spent nearly two years aboard the Progerian scout ship competing in fights to the death with my fellow humans, all of whom had been attending a Widespread Panic concert at Red Rocks. At first, I had fought merely for survival, then I fought to save the lives of my “spoils”, human women the Progerians had given to me after every round. Then ultimately I fought to win back the Queen of the Games, my girlfriend, Beth.
Before my final bout I had hatched a half-assed plan (famous for that, by the way) to escape, never truly believing in any success. The alternative, however, was to fight a man that I probably couldn’t have beaten with a grenade launcher. I had been more successful then I could have ever imagined due to the ultimate sacrifice of the Space Shuttle Liberation and her brave crew as they detonated a nuclear device inside the hold of the scout ship. I thought the nightmare was over as we landed on terra firma only to discover I hadn’t even fallen asleep yet. I had no sooner decided to throw my lot in with the Marines and hook up with my best friend on the planet, Paul, who had formed a highly organized militia in Colorado, when I found myself whisked off to France where I received some much-needed tracker removal surgery. I was still in recovery when Paris was leveled in an attempt to find me.
I had given myself up before they could kill any more innocent people. I was going to have my dance with Durgan; a human that had been taken in the initial invasion on Red Rocks and forced into battle along with the rest of us. The aliens had quickly fallen in love with his success and willingness to shed others blood on the arena floor. Come to think of it, he’d probably been subjected to the same chemicals the Devastator mutants had. Durgan had been pretty muscle-laden when he’d started his first bout but by the last one, he was freakishly large to the point where I was convinced he could take out a Geno in a straight up fight. (Look in Journal One for more about the psychotic steroid ingesting, murdering megalomaniac.) A higher power apparently deemed me worthy the day we fought. I bested him and my reward was not another woman but the right to fight Drababan, the Genogerian champion. Drababan was somewhere in the neighborhood of eight feet tall and six hundred pounds, which made Durgan look like a hobbit in comparison. The beast probably ate meals that weighed more than me.
The Progerians had circled our planet long enough to pick up some tricks, drama being one of them. Our fight was to be aired worldwide as we fought in the crater where the Eiffel Tower once stood. Our weapons of choice for the match were swords and we parried for a few moments. Okay, scratch that, Drababan had parried and I was blocking his potential deathblows. Somehow I had found an opening in Drababan’s attack and was able to cut him, nothing that would require more than a stitch or two, but it had enraged him to no end.
For the sake of my honor Drababan had been prolonging the fight so that I would die well. (Stopping there for a second, who the fuck dies well? Dying is dying, the end result being death, right? To die with dignity is what Dee wanted for me. Oh, and while I’m already on a tangent, I started calling Drababan ‘Dee’ because he was sick of me butchering his name; it’s a hard ‘D’ with a rolling ‘R’, it was ridiculous trying to say it properly. He seemed alright with it, this I know because he hadn’t eaten me yet. Back to the original tangent, I fucking basically wanted to live with indignity if it came to that. There is no recovery from death—no laughing, no loving, nothing! Sorry, had to get that out.) So there I am, holding up this sharp toothpick as a charging T-Rex is barreling down on me when all hell broke loose. I know you’re thinking what more could happen. Well, plenty actually. My buddy Paul, who had forsaken me in France, picked the most inopportune of times to attempt a rescue. Or opportune, really depends on how you look at it. Marines had attacked the ring of Genogerian guards who had been completely caught unawares. And this is where it gets strange; Dee, the charging T-Rex I told you about earlier, scooped me up like a bellhop grabbing a valise and ran full tilt for the opening the Marines had blown in the side of the crater.
Bullets whined by me, as did the blue arcing fire of the Genogerian rifles. I remembered this all vividly as I bounced around on Dee’s back. I probably should fill this in a little more. I had been in recovery aft
er the fight with Durgan for, maybe a month, and in that time Dee had visited on numerous occasions. We talked many times during my recovery and even played some games, which he consistently trounced me in. I learned that he was a truly spiritual being; he had been imprisoned and forced to fight due to his beliefs. He was as much a victim as me. It was there and then that I learned the Genos were not so enamored with their lot in life.
When Dee saw a chance to escape he took it, no questions asked. I hadn’t realized that at the time and neither did my rescuers who almost shot him to death (he had already been shot a couple of times). A sub picked us up off the coast of France, and while we were traveling back to the U.S., the Progerians released their military might. To give you an idea of the enormity and severity of the attack, picture the U.S. in its heyday with all of its military might going on a full-scale invasion against the island nation of Guam. There was nothing we could do to stop it. We were helpless as destruction was unleashed upon our planet. It was that brutal. The only thing that most likely saved the planet was that the Julipion in its truest form is only a scout ship meant to find habitable planets and report back to the home world. Destroyer and Cruiser Class ships are then sent to complete the job.
The Julipion did not have enough ground troops to effectively control the planet and at least for now they wanted to protect Earth’s most precious commodity - people. We were the perfect slaves, ruthless in war and apparently tasted delicious.
Chapter One - Mike Journal Entry 01
“Holy shit, when did he start to walk?” I asked.
“Mike, he’s two and a half and he talks as well.”
“Get out of here!” I said disbelievingly.
“Maybe if you spent more time at home you’d know that. His first words were, ‘Who that man?’” Tracy laughed as she came into the living room. She kissed me and wiped her flour covered hands on the sides of her pants.
I grabbed Travis, gave him a kiss and spun him around a couple of times before putting him down.
I wasn’t gone nearly as much as our long running joke would lead one to believe, but, out of necessity, I did spend a lot of time away from home. It was my goal to ensure that Travis lived as long and fruitful a life as he possibly could. There was no doubt the Progerians were coming back. For a while the military had received transmissions of the Progerians progress, but I think when we stopped sending anything back the Progerians thought better of broadcasting their whereabouts.
I’d been back up to that friggen scout ship three more times since the takeover. The first time was more of a photo-op, a way to rally the world so to speak. Although, if the threat of slavery and death wasn’t already enough, then my smiling mug wasn’t going to tip the scales.
“Dee!” Travis squealed.
I turned to see Drababan, my bestest, biggest, baddest alien friend who had come to visit. It really wasn’t that big of a deal as he lived next door in a special house retrofitted to his enormous size. When I let him in, he immediately leaned down and picked up my son by his outstretched arms.
“That still scares the hell out of me, Mike,” Tracy said as she headed back into the kitchen, where I was also headed. I lingered for a moment as the eight-foot, six hundred pound Croc-beast picked my son up and nuzzled him close. Travis was laughing as he wrapped his left hand around one of Dee’s teeth. With his right he was attempting to smack Dee’s snout.
“You will be a fighter like your father, Travis,” Dee said with a Genogerian version of a smile.
Out of necessity Dee’s words might one day ring true, even though I was going to do everything in my power to ensure that would not be the case.
“You know, your big green friend out there still refers to me as, ‘small female that mates with Mike.’ At least he calls our son by his name.”
I smiled (inwardly). This was a sore spot with Tracy. Dee would only use the names of those he respected and for some reason I garnered a coveted spot with him. As far as I knew he used mine and now Travis’s actual names; everyone else was a descriptor.
I was helping Tracy prepare dinner when we noticed it had quieted down in the living room.
“I can finish up here. Could you please make sure your friend hasn’t eaten our son?”
“Sure.” It was a sight to behold as I walked into the living room. Dee was stretched out on our over-sized sofa with Travis resting comfortable on his chest, nearly lost in the steel iron of Dee’s arms. Dee lifted an eyelid.
“He is exhausting.”
“Tell me about it.”
“He also punches harder than you.”
“Okay, now you’re just being mean.”
“I would like to talk with you,” Dee said as he tenderly moved my son off of his chest and onto the sofa.
“Sure. Let’s go outside.”
“Mike,” Tracy called from the kitchen entryway. I turned just in time to see a two-liter bottle of Moxie hurtling in my direction.
It would have slammed off of my nose if not for Dee’s large hand swiping it out of the air. His eyes lit up as he snagged what was undoubtedly his favorite drink on the planet.
“I have once again saved you, Michael Talbot. Thank you, small female who has birthed Travis.”
“You’re welcome,” Tracy sighed.
If not for Dee I wouldn’t spend any time hunting down the caustic drink, but it was worth it just for his reaction. The plant had shut down after the initial attacks. I was having a horrible time imagining what three-year-old bottled soda tasted like but the big guy didn’t seem to mind.
I walked outside and when Dee finally met me there he handed me an empty plastic bottle. The belch that issued forth from him rumbled like a freight train.
“Better now?” I asked him, taking the bottle. “This shit is going to kill you.”
“It will be worth it,” he replied in all seriousness. “It is good to have you back in this vicinity, Michael.”
“You as well, Dee. How did your trip to the Outlands go?” I was referring to where the vast majority of freed Genogerians had decided to make a settlement in the U.S. It was near a town called Hyder in Arizona. After Phoenix had been leveled, most of the remaining human inhabitants had left the state completely. Our informal census had the Geno population at a few hundred thousand, which meant they now outnumbered humans nearly four to one in the region. They’d first wanted to set up shop in the Middle East. It had taken numerous conversations to steer them away from that. History was rife with conflict in that area. Peace across the planet was at an all-time high at the moment. If we were able to somehow repel the next wave of attacks, and the world was once again safe from outside invasion, then I was sure that we would revert back to our natural state soon enough. Mixing the Genos within that type of scenario would be like adding Napalm to a forest fire. Plus, I knew there was still a fair amount of justifiable hatred directed toward the Genos. The largest group had settled in the States, that way I’d be in a much better position to ensure their safety.
“They are much like unsupervised children,” Dee said in all seriousness. “It is good that they did not all settle in the same place.”
That had been by design. We’d separated the Genos and placed them around the globe so that there would not be any one place that had a huge concentration.
I shuddered, thinking of the damage my son could do in thirty minutes on his own. Multiply that by a factor of a million or so for the Genos and you get the picture.
“They know not what to do with their new found freedom.”
It was a volatile situation. Dee and I had worked with some of the natural leaders like Tantor, but once the Genogerians had discovered they no longer had to listen to their overseers, they took that to the next step and didn’t want to listen to anyone at any time. Add to that the fact that they’d somehow developed a new alcoholic beverage called Krakas, which was like gasoline-infused tequila. Two shots would put a man on his ass. Yes, I was the test subject for that particular experiment. The Genogerians
thought it hilarious the Earth champion could be dropped so easily.
It is impossible to pigeonhole the entire Geno population, though. They are a dynamic and divergent group as any populace will be. There were some that traveled down Dee’s path for inner peace and religion, and some wanted to mate and raise families, although not in the traditional American way—Genos’ weren’t really the domesticated type. Can’t imagine any of the brutes wearing a tie and going to their accounting job in the city. A good number joined up with the new coalition military forces because they knew the fighting wasn’t quite done. It was like any populace, but with two distinct problems: they had no leadership and no police force to keep them in check. If a fight broke out it could go on for days among multiple groups. Luckily, most of the injuries only revolved around broken bones. Deaths were rare, but without a common goal or a unifying force it was going to be difficult, if not impossible, to rein them in.
Urlack, the Progerian/Genogerian shunned hybrid, who had basically led the rebellion and brought me back to the scout ship for our final showdown with the Progs, lived there now. A couple of the Progerian pilots including Iserwan, who was the first to force Kuvlar the Interim Supreme Commander to surrender, stayed aboard the ship. The Genos that stayed aboard were becoming very adept at what the pilots were teaching them. More than once I witnessed Iserwan shake his head at the ease at which a difficult concept was passed on to the “lesser” species. If he had ever thought the Genos were less than he himself was, that had long ago evaporated. That isn’t to say all of the old prejudices had melted away as well, but it was a start. They were not the ignorant mindless beings he had expected them to be.
It is still strange to me to think that bigotry travels the stars. Possibly that is a necessary way of thinking for a planetary conquering species, or for any conquering species in fact. Maybe it’s the justifying of a hostile take-over by believing that you will be doing the “savages” some good, protecting themselves from themselves, I guess.