Disintegration ba-1

by Anthony DeCosmo

  Amidst the confusion, none of the aliens noticed the sniping of their leader.

  Another Redcoat officer fell, then another, adding to the chaos.

  One alien squad managed to disengage from the creature, retreated twenty yards, and formed a firing line. They pointed their guns at the giant, pulled triggers, then waited, confirming the notion that these extraterrestrial rifles required charging time to build power.

  Finally, they let loose a volley of energy exploding into the hide of the beast; its myriad of mouths howled in unison. The volley left a gory hole as if the creature had been hit with a bazooka. Apparently, the Redcoat rifles packed a significant punch if given time to power-up.

  The hydra-thing toppled, crushing an ATM kiosk.

  As the Redcoats counted their losses, Stonewall went to work again: a squad leader's helmet blew to pieces; the chest of an alien soldier exploded. This time the aliens recognized the peril and sought cover behind overturned cars and the giant's dead carcass.

  Stonewall's radio broadcast a warning from Shepherd: "Incoming artillery fire!"

  McBride wiggled backwards saying, "Man, we had a good thing going."

  Stonewall answered, "All good things…"

  The two men-now covered with grime and dust-rolled out from beneath the bus and ran toward the alley. Two burning blue balls fell from the sky and hit the bus which disintegrated into metal shavings until consuming the fume-filled gas tank. The tank exploded, turning those metal shavings into shrapnel.

  They rounded the corner and came upon Benny Duda holding the reigns of three steeds.

  "Saddle up, our work has just begun, gentlemen," Stonewall ordered.

  "What? Huh?" Dustin, following behind, asked.

  Stonewall saw Dustin clutching the side of his head. "I say, are you injured?"

  "What's that, General?"

  Dustin pulled his hand from his head. He lacked a right ear.

  – Ross admired the aliens' tenacity as he watched their advance from a parking garage roof.

  After shelling this group of Redcoats-identified as the 2 ^ nd Regiment-on Wilkes-Barre Boulevard, Ross had retreated to a small parking garage on the King's College campus a few blocks north of Public Square. He expected the regiment to be in hot pursuit. Instead, it took them well into the afternoon to move a half-mile.

  Apparently, the Redcoats intended to leave no stone unturned; no hiding spot uncovered. They broke into groups of three and searched every house along their path, much to Woody Ross' amusement.

  In most cases, they entered homes and buildings, searched, and exited empty handed. Other forays proved more entertaining.

  In one instance, Ross saw flashes of alien gunfire and then soldiers emerged from a home with the "trophy" of an emaciated house cat.

  Another trio kicked open a door and rushed in only to be chased to the sidewalk by a two-legged lizard using its dome-shaped head like a battering ram to strike dead a Redcoat before they could power-up their energy guns enough to cut through its armor-plated hide.

  Ross thought about sending the Redcoats a note of appreciation. Their slow progress gave him a chance to prepare a few surprises, their house-to-house searching reduced the hostiles in the city, and their brightly-dressed attention-grabbing army drew creatures away from Ross' (and Stonewall's) smaller, more vulnerable bands of fighters.

  Finally, the 2 ^ nd Regiment approached perpendicular to North Main Street. From his perch above that intersection, Ross saw another bad surprise looming for the Redcoats: acid-spitting dog-sized cockroaches swarming up Main Street. The Redcoats-their lead elements still around the corner-could not see the line of big bugs.

  Ross, foreseeing chaos, decided to add to it.

  "Smoke canisters! Hurry!"

  Mortar rounds hit at the front of the Redcoat line. The soldiers held their ranks in a most admirable manner.

  The regiment commander led his men into the billowing clouds of white fog, probably assuming the smoke hid a human retreat. At the same time, the horde of oversized bugs essentially t-boned the Redcoat column.

  From behind the veil of smoke came screams, the zap of energy weapons, commands yelled in an alien tongue, and insect hisses. Yellow streams of burning acid sizzled like the sound of water on a hot frying pan. Above the mess floated the 2 ^ nd Regiment's air ship that had failed to spot the danger.

  A cold wind dissipated the smoke aiding the Redcoat officers in gaining control of their men-those not melted into piles-and utilizing their energy weapons to destroy the swarm.

  As the last insects died…as the fray finally subsided…as the Redcoats formed marching lines once again, the mortars fired this time with explosive shells that-given the close range and tightly packed enemy formation-simply could not miss.

  Two…four…six explosions raked the army. Body parts, helmets, and equipment tossed into the air while neatly lined rows of Redcoats toppled like dominoes.

  With the aid of their air ship, the Redcoats spotted their attackers and fired energy bolts toward the roof of the parking garage.

  Ross ordered the retreat and the mortar teams-lugging heavy backpacks as well as the mortar tubes-evacuated the roof.

  As three enemy squads marched into the confines of the garage, Ross and his men slipped out the rear, hidden from the aircraft’s view by shabby and dead overgrown brush.

  Inside, the Redcoats surrounded an odd-looking human vehicle; scrape marks from the low-hanging garage roof were visible on its cab as well as the white, tubular body. The aliens did not understand the symbols: AGWAY PROPANE.

  The concrete ceiling and floor funneled the explosion laterally, engulfing the Redcoats in a firestorm of burning gas and exploding truck. Balls of black smoke rolled out from the garage and the blast echoed across the city, catching the attention of numerous hostile ears.

  While two more squads went inside to extract survivors, a mob of ghouls plowed into the remaining regiment elements on the street.

  This time panic struck the ranks. Individual soldiers fired wildly as the speed of the attack allowed no time for formal lines. The regiment commander personally killed two of the bony, ape-like fiends at close range.

  Eventually, the Redcoats overcame the assault. Nonetheless, two more squads had been badly mauled, pushing the formation's casualty count over sixty percent.

  An alien shuttle landed on the parking garage roof and loaded wounded for evacuation.

  Mortar rounds exploded on and around the ship, lobbed from the roof of a tall King’s College dormitory three hundred yards to the southwest.

  Rifle charge packs stored onboard the ship created a secondary explosion resulting in an inferno. Fire jetted from the open sliding side doors and the cockpit window exploded out. The injured Redcoats onboard became dead Redcoats and nearby healthy Redcoats became dead or injured Redcoats.

  The remaining members of the 2 ^ nd Regiment retreated into a small building catty-corner from the parking garage and established a hard point.

  An hour later, a squad leader missing after the shuttle exploded crossed the street to join his comrades. He appeared dazed and disheveled and carried a message for the Redcoat General. When translated, it read: "General Stonewall McAllister will accept your surrender with the following terms: you will strip naked and crawl through the streets begging for mercy."

  – Gray clouds swept in and turned the city dark earlier than usual. Shepherd-drinking his third cup of horrible instant coffee-contacted Trevor via radio.

  "The 3 ^ rd Regiment bugged out before dark along with two flying ships. Garrett tracked them. Give em' credit, they search just about every house, shop, and bowling alley they pass. But get this; they stopped when the sun went down. Looks like they don’t like fighting at night."

  Trevor said, "Everything they do is really formal. Maybe where they came from they fight wars like gentlemen in a dual. Or maybe their world has more sunlight or something."

  "Whatever the reason, it looks like they took over a bunch of house
s off Wilkes-Barre Boulevard and have hunkered down for the night. That means the Reds have committed three of their four regiments to the fight."

  "As best as we could hope," Trevor radioed through cracks of static.

  Shep waved away a cloud of smoke from Omar's cigarette; the scientist lay nearby studying the Redcoat artillery through binoculars.

  "Anyways, Ross tore up their 2 ^ nd Regiment really good. ‘Course he had some help from our friends downtown. Point being, that bunch lost most of their men and are held up in a building on North Main Street. Tell you what, though, them boys can hold a hard point. Ross says there’s been waves of things bull-rushing them for hours and they mowed them all down."

  "They’re disciplined and their weapons pack a punch. What about the 1 ^ st Regiment?"

  Shepherd snickered. "After they got stomped, they headed straight for the Square. Garrett says them fellas got hit with a whole shitload of baddies. He saw a blob chase them and one of them…whattayacallit…a ‘Stick Ogre’ brained a bunch of them before they blasted it. Now they’re held up in a big blue and white office building downtown."

  Trevor told Shep, "Us locals call that one the Bicentennial Building because it was built back in '76 for the-"

  "Bicentennial. Okay, I get it, I’m not that slow."

  Shep heard a drop in Trevor’s enthusiasm as he asked, "How many we lose so far?"

  "Not a one unless you count the monsters downtown. The Redcoats have killed off a heap of them."

  Trevor asked, "What about Dustin?"

  Another cloud of smoke drifted near. Shep waved it away again.

  "Garrett says they patched Dustin up just fine. Nothing we can do about his ear, ‘course, but he refused to go home. The three of them are held up in the hotel across from the 'Bicentennial Building', right under the Redcoats’ nose. That Stonewall sure is ballsy."

  "Is Ross’ group with him?"

  "No. Bear is bunking in a college dorm. You know, those mortars are dry on ammo and those guys are worn out; they did the heavy lifting today. Honestly, I think they're done for a while. Say, what’s Jon’s status?"

  Trevor answered, "They’re hiding in a strip mall on the west side of the river waiting for you to give the word when that 4 ^ th Regiment moves. That’s when things will get interesting."

  "No doubt. And you two?"

  Trevor's tone changed from the strong commander to something akin to a teenage boy speaking with a girl's father before a first date: "Um, me and Nina are held up here in a house on the north end. We’re going to sleep in, you know, separate rooms and all. We’ve got enough K9 noses here to let us know if anything gets close and our chopper is hidden good. Um, you?"

  "Well, the temperature is starting to drop like a rock, so we got ourselves blankets and some God-awful coffee. Seems to me the Redcoats are shutting down for the night, so maybe we can get some shut eye."

  "Sounds like a plan, Shep. Keep me informed if anything happens, otherwise goodnight."

  Shep put down the radio and gazed out the window. Far across the way, he spied the lights of the Redcoat camp. Above, a blanket of thick clouds obscured the stars and a light snow drifted to Earth.

  More smoke stung his eyes.

  "Hey, I’m trying to breathe over here."

  – Trevor examined the radio in his hand but-in actuality-he studied the situation.

  Things went according to plan. The Redcoat regiments fought the monsters in the city with Ross and Stonewall aggravating the alien army from a safe distance. If tomorrow went as well as today, the Redcoats' numbers would dwindle to a fraction of their initial strength and the monsters infesting the city would be similarly culled.

  However, he knew the danger would increase exponentially tomorrow. Certainly the Redcoats would adjust their tactics or, worse, they would swallow their pride and withdraw to continue their march on Harveys Lake where they would find and destroy the estate, undoing months of progress.

  Nina-in a flight suit similar to Trevor's-walked into the kitchen where he stood.

  "I checked on the chopper from the window," she told him. "Nothing has messed with it."

  Trevor chose that particular house on the north end of Wilkes-Barre to use as their staging point because it sat next to a golf course nestled amidst a neighborhood, all just a few seconds flying time from the alien encampment.

  Nina asked, "What's Shep have to say?"

  "Everything is going according to plan."

  "That's great."

  "Yea, but it's kind of scary," he said and drifted to the kitchen table where a kerosene lamp lit the room in a soft glow. "We've brow-beaten an alien army and the worse we've taken is Dustin McBride losing an ear."

  "Good planning," she said. "And a little luck."

  "Maybe. Or…" he gazed at her as his thoughts drifted off. "Or maybe we're too good at this; at this whole fighting thing. Ever since man made fire we've done nothing but divide into tribes and countries and fight each other. Maybe a dress rehearsal for all this?"

  Nina, returning his stare, whispered, "Maybe we're a race of killers. Maybe that's why they're here; to snuff us out because we're so damned dangerous."

  The two realized they stared at one another and quickly averted their eyes.

  – The combatants in the Battle for Wilkes-Barre awoke on the second day to a ground covered with the remains of a snow squall. The early sun managed to burn away low-hanging cloud cover but it could not chase away the cold. Soldiers on both sides spoke through puffs of chilled air and wet, icy snowflakes fluttered on the wind.

  Stonewall and his companions gathered in the bridal suite on the top floor of the Ramada on Public Square. Dustin cleaned the bandage on his ear and Benny ate a stale candy bar.

  The General gazed out the window toward the blue and white building across the street where the enemy camped. Strategies and goals rolled over in his mind.

  Eventually he boiled it down to one order: "Gentlemen, let’s go for a ride."

  The unit descended the hotel via a stairwell, released their horses from the banquet room, and rode into the early morning light whooping and hollering and firing into the air.

  The horse hooves c lunked and c lapped on the pavement as Stonewall led the three around Public Square, brazenly passing in front of the 1 ^ st Regiment of alien soldiers in the Bicentennial Building. The sentries fired hastily aimed potshots but scored no hits.

  Stonewall waved his hat at the Redcoats and veered north on Main Street, galloping between burned out abandoned vehicles.

  A half-mile north they happened upon yesterday's battleground-dead alien bodies, ghouls, and a multitude of big-but-squashed insects-as well as the remaining members of the 2 ^ nd Redcoat Regiment hunkered inside a small wooden building that had been a print shop ("Quick Print Your Summer Bazaar Flyers Here!").

  Stonewall lit and threw a Molotov cocktail. It splashed and spread flames fast along the front wall, forcing the Redcoats to evacuate.

  Satisfied, McAllister turned his cavalry south again. A Redcoat aircraft followed their progress as the three horse soldiers slipped inside the large King’s College gymnasium ("Home of the Monarchs!").

  The burning wood of the print shop attracted more unwanted attention to the besieged 2nd Regiment. As thirty-five battered and weary soldiers evacuated the burning print shop, they confronted another mass of acid-spitting roaches slithering forth from the burned-out bottom level of the parking garage where-no doubt-the creatures had spent the night gorging on barbecued Redcoat carrion

  Much to the surprise of the 2nd Regiment, a furious volley of massed energy balls shredded the insects. That volley came from the 3 ^ rd Regiment as it marched up a side street to join the action. The equation shifted in the aliens’ favor.

  A devilbat swooped low. Well-aimed, coordinated fire knocked it spinning from the sky.

  A seven-foot-tall troll lumbered toward the group and was blasted to pieces.

  Enthusiasm swept the aliens, despite the cold air, the blustery s
now flurries, and the losses they had endured. A new day meant a new opportunity to finish the battle.

  Plans went into motion.

  The remnants of the 2 ^ nd Regiment merged with the 3 ^ rd and spread along Main Street.

  The 1 ^ st Regiment further entrenched on Public Square, occupying positions on the top of the tallest buildings. Boxy alien flyers circled the sky.

  The Redcoat General dispatched his 4 ^ th Regiment from the assembly area in the shopping district, which resulted in several enthusiastic radio communications from Shep to Trevor and Jon. Regardless, it took most of the morning for the 4 ^ th formation to march downtown and align itself perpendicular to the Redcoat forces on Main Street.

  When combined with the Susquehanna River bank to the west, the Redcoat army effectively sealed off several square blocks of city, including the heart of the college campus.

  Back at the assembly area, all four of the big guns hovered into firing position.

  The first blast arced away from the Redcoat base in a big blue ball with a trailing, comet-like aura. That comet smashed into the small parking garage Ross’ mortar teams had fired from the day before.

  More volleys blasted the structure. Big bugs and green alien eels slithered from the doomed garage. The levels buckled and collapsed into a stack of cement flapjacks. A cloud of dust blew away in all directions, blanketing the area.

  The artillery pieces adjusted and fired again.

  Bolts of plasma fell into the King’s College gymnasium, punching through the roof and vaporizing the interior. The entire building imploded, letting loose another cloud.

  The artillery continued. The bolts fell one after another after another.

  Having already demonstrated their skill in precision targeting, the Redcoats displayed their skill at mass destruction. The crackling sound of exploding alien ordnance sizzled as if a city block sat atop a hot skillet. An acrid electric smell rode the black and brown fog of destruction rising as the carnage spread.

  A series of the glowing balls fell into a large Victorian-ere home long ago remodeled into professional offices. Glowing rings of blue shockwaves radiated outward, smashing tall, majestic windows and knocking porch pillars from perches. The gutted interior could not support the frame so the roof dropped and the sidewalls splintered, leaving only the ruins of the front fascia standing hollow like a depthless prop on a theater stage.