Charger the Soldier

by Lea Tassie

  As for the killing of the police officers who, in their attempt to capture me, made the mistake of surprising me in my home, that was simply an accident. I have no malice toward the police. I just think that, in the future, it should be made policy for them to knock before entering anyone's home. Finally, regarding the death of my psychiatric officer, I would like to say that had she run a little faster, she might have survived.

  In conclusion, I freely and willingly give my body to science in hopes that it can do good toward the liberation of our planet from the Nazi curse and ensure the survival of the human race.

  He remembers his childhood.

  "Jew boy, Jew boy, such a stupid hat for a Jew boy," was the mildest of the taunts caterwauled by the school kids at recess as they shoved and pushed me back and forth from one kid to another. When I lost my footing and fell to the ground, the kids would kick and spit on me. I never cried, never told the teachers. Instead I would wait till each kid was alone, then seek revenge. I often carried a small sharp rock in my pocket and, when I had beaten the kid to the ground, would scratch a sign into his chest or back. A sign from God that only he could understand. I never had friends, and didn't care. As I grew older, the other kids avoided me and often joked with each other about never walking alone or 'Mac might get you.' My name thus became the new school term for Satan.

  He snaps.

  I was fifty-five when I accepted my destiny. It happened on a Tuesday, after coming home from work. I had had an extremely trying day dealing with other trades people who were unwilling to work with me in completing the installation of a mechanical system for a new office building in Berlin. I decided to take the next day off but, as that day arrived, so did all my rage. It might have ended quietly but, as I drove to my favorite restaurant in a quiet neighborhood on the west side of Berlin, a passing driver cut me off in traffic and, when I honked my horn, flipped me off with a finger.

  I felt no emotion, I drove home, packed a large hockey bag with weapons and sat in my car. Then I realized I had no idea where this other driver might live. Looking out the window of my car, I stared for some time at kids in the school yard across the street. Then, I retrieved the bag from the car and walked toward the school.

  Jill's graduation party

  "Hey, Jill, you going to the party on Saturday?" asked Ken. Ken was the typical football jock from gym class and really had a thing for Jill.

  "I might, just depends on what my mom says," Jill replied, not wanting to show too much interest in Ken. There were only a few American kids in Berlin in those relatively peaceful years before the alien war began. Most were from military families and a few from science families. Jill's folks were pastors stationed there for the troops.

  Ken liked that Jill seemed to have a bit of a wild streak to her nature. She often wore dark Goth clothing and makeup in school.

  She often had to leave home dressed like a princess, but during class hours, all bets were off. It had been difficult at first for her to fit into the rigors of school life in Berlin but the fact that Ken was interested in her and very popular with the other kids did help a lot.

  This was just another typical day for young minds as they filed from one class to another, so they ignored the strange man who entered the school just before lunch. The bell rang and the few American kids made their way to the same table where they always congregated, chatting about this teacher or that. Thus it went unnoticed that this strange but ordinary-looking man moved from door to door, closing and locking them, sealing in the two hundred or so students eating their lunches.

  Without warning, a gun shot rang out and a student slumped forward lifeless at a lunch table. Stunned silence followed, then horrific screams as students panicked and tried running from the room.

  As if in slow motion, the man moved from student to student, shooting them or slicing at them with a sinister long blade fashioned to the butt end of his rifle. He looked like such an unassuming individual, quite ordinary in appearance and height, but he moved calmly, taking deliberate aim to eradicate all other life in the room. Ten, then twenty, children fell to the floor lifeless as the remaining kids scattered in small groups around the room, desperate to find a way to escape. Ken grabbed Jill and shoved her into a small metal serving cart, then pushed it to one side of the room. After only a few yards the cart slowed and, from a small crack in the corner of the cart, Jill could see Ken's lifeless body splayed across the floor.

  Fifty, then one hundred, children fell, bodies piling up around the room, the floor red with blood. Some tried to defend themselves, but the man just kept advancing, kept shooting. Most fell to their knees and cried for their lives to be spared, but the man took no notice and, one by one, they continued to die.

  Jill watched in horror as the last few children dropped to the ground lifeless. Her breathing almost stopped as she waited to be discovered. Then, when the last child died, the man served himself a cup of coffee and sat down. Leaning back in the chair, he called out, "You can come out now, I'm done."

  Jill was silent.

  "Hey, girl, you in the cart, I saw you go in there, you can come out now."

  Jill was still silent.

  The man grabbed a fork from the table and threw it at the cart, hitting the thin metal door, which sent out a ping.

  Jill screamed.

  "What's the matter, Duchess, no speaky the English?" demanded the man. "I said I'm done. You better come out, or I will start again, on you this time."

  Shaking violently, Jill slowly emerged from the small cart and found herself surrounded by dead bodies. "I'm American," Jill said in a voice that was almost a whisper.

  "What's that?" demanded the man, staring at the trembling girl.

  "I'm American," Jill said again, crying as she trembled.

  "American, you say. Well, hell, this is your lucky day then. Come here, sweetheart, and have a seat," the man said, with a hint of emotion in his voice for the first time. He was pleased that the girl was not one of those Germans he hated so much.

  Jill could not move; she was barely able to stand.

  The man said, "Damn, looks like you pissed yourself. Better lose those leggings before the police get here. We don't want the media to take pictures of an American girl pissing herself." The man's face no longer held any hint of emotion.

  As if in a dream, Jill did as she was told. She removed her soiled leggings and then stood silent as if partly dead herself. And there they remained, the man drinking his coffee and the Goth girl, now dead inside, simply standing, until the noise of police involvement came from beyond the lunchroom door.

  As the door burst open and police stormed into the room yelling, the strange man turned to the still girl and said, "Don't be like me, be worse."

  Jill crumpled to the floor.

  She was still in a coma when the aliens attacked Earth, and was chosen for the Lycan program because of her low brain activity. The conversion to Lycan was easy for Jill for she no longer registered any feelings of pain. The day she was revived and linked to Charger, the girl Jill was buried so deep inside that Lycan body that it seemed as if she no longer existed.

  But what came from her body then was pure hell on earth and, with all the muscle enhancement she had, hell was a safer place to be.

  >>>

  When Charger awoke from the operation, his first sight was through Mac's eyes. Mac was being fed in a cage and Charger experienced it, even the feel of food in his mouth. He was already feeling confused when Jill's view of the world came into focus. She was running down a young trainer, and nipping wildly at his legs. Charger staggered out of bed, disoriented by what he was seeing, and flailed around the room. He knocked over several sensitive machines before being held down by half a dozen orderlies while one of them injected a sedative into his thigh.

  When he awoke again, he was strapped down and flashing between Mac's viewpoint, Jill's, and his own. It took several days of electronic training before he could figure out which one he was. The experience of see
ing the world through another's eyes was wild. He instantly knew things about them that he had no business knowing. He panicked at first, nearly losing his own mind because the Lycan minds were so aggressive, but with much practice and pain, he eventually re-established himself as dominant over them both, though he still got disoriented trying to move in and out of their minds.

  Too bad Dal hadn't made it, Charger thought. He would have liked being hooked up with a werewolf.

  When he was well enough to fight again, Charger was reassigned to an Australian combat front line group, as one of the new recruits to replace those clobbered by the three Shillelaghs weeks before. This time it would be different, this time he would save the humans, this time the Shillelaghs would pay for Chang. Being bonded with two Lycans so that the three of them formed one single fighting unit would make them invincible. "The aliens better start running now," he thought.

  Because the Lycans were always with him at chow time, Charger was never invited to sit with the humans until he met Ben, an ex-monk who gave up his work when he realized that the church had lied to everyone. He told Charger that being called German, or French, or native, or American, were just social labels, that they were all humans, and all the same. They had the same blood, same flesh, same dreams.

  "We are the last of our kind on this planet, and we are heading for extinction," Ben said sadly. "It's like saying I'm Jewish, I'm Christian, I'm Muslim, you know, when the reality is that we're all just religious, and we're still all the same biologically. The aliens are the ones that are different."

  Ben was an older man, well built, but not strong. "Come on, mate," Ben said, "bring those pups to chowder, let's eat up tonight, for tomorrow we might have to die."

  Charger found it was getting easier to control Mac, a fiery black and rust red short-haired Lycan, stocky and exceptionally powerful in build, but Jill was still difficult. She had long hair, the muted orange of the stripes on a Bengal tiger, and was incredibly vicious and flexible, though her face was delicate, almost human. She constantly nipped at Mac, who wanted Charger to stop her doing that. It was annoying Charger, too. Or were those Mac's thoughts? Sometimes Charger still clawed at his own mind, trying to figure out whose thoughts he was thinking.

  He ate a fine meal with Ben that night. Rations tasted good in Mac's mouth, too. And Jill's. Ben chatted away the evening, waiting for darkness to set in again. Charger told Ben that as the aliens' way of combat seemed to be failing, the smarter ones were forming together, trying to look like the American machines.

  He remembered waking one morning as the aliens tried again to dislodge his group from stable high ground. They formed into tank-like objects, massive in size, but they had difficulty navigating the soft, wet soils. One crested a rise and came face to face with an American M-1 tank. The alien version of the M-1 dwarfed the real M-1, which was first to fire. Many rounds poured into the alien machine, but did little damage at first. It took the concentrated fire power of several tanks at just the right moment to disable and destroy the fake tank.

  The next night saw Charger and Ben sitting beside a small campfire, warming their hands during a lull in the fighting, and hoping the fire wasn't visible to the enemy. Mac and Jill were roaming around in the dark, visiting other Lycans. Charger could 'hear' their thoughts and conversation, but they were just chattering so he ignored them.

  Ben was doing all the talking, speculating about the aliens and how the war might have been stopped earlier, preventing many deaths. Charger mostly just listened. He never could see any point talking if he had nothing to say.

  "Mankind doesn't have to be evil," Ben said. "The church was created and built by men and it cannot help being imbued with our sinful nature. But if we simply believe and trust in God, everything becomes simple. There would be no killing."

  Charger sensed movement nearby. Stealthy movement. And too close.

  "Remember," Ben said, "evil can only thrive when good men do nothing."

  Charger swiveled suddenly and thrust his sword into a small alien invader sneaking up behind Ben in the dark.

  He turned to face Ben. "I'm bad. But I'm good at math."

  Charger was glad to get back into the fight when dawn came. Gunfire erupted as the aliens bore down on the human soldiers behind him and the flashes lit up the morning skyline. Aliens never seemed to fight on any schedule, always at random times. He scrambled to his feet, ready to fight, when the familiar clicking on his wrist computer picked up on three Shillelaghs moving rapidly toward his western flank. This time he didn't squat down and wait for the fight, but raced full speed down the line toward the three, all the while flashing between Mac's, Jill's, and his own vision.

  Jill howled madly and bolted headlong into the Shillelagh, but it was Mac who got there first. He hit the closest Shillelagh so hard that for a moment Charger could feel Mac's breath leave him. The Shillelagh went liquid and seemed to splash everywhere. Jill was already mauling the second Shillelagh when Mac joined in. Charger hit the third Shillelagh hard, slicing deep into its armor. He focused on the gold multiple eyes, trying to find a brain nearby so he could cleave off a chunk.

  It was Jill who found the sweet spot, just behind the eyes and down to the left. "Kill there!" is what he heard from her mind. He struck hard at that spot and the third Shillelagh fell dead. Mac and Jill were tormenting the second as it lay dying on the ground.

  The first Shillelagh had reformed itself and seemed terrified at what had happened to the other two so quickly. It tried to retreat, but ran into an excited Jill. By the time Charger reached it, Mac and Jill were holding it from escaping the way two cats might confine a mouse.

  It had been a good morning to wreak revenge for Chang, he thought, proud of what he had done. He was sure the message got back to the aliens' command that this time all hope was lost for them. This morning a new fighter had been born, this day would be the beginning of the downfall of the invaders, as the new weapon entered combat. The Vampire-Lycan hunting had begun and now many Vamps would want the upgrade.

  Getting a break before the next battle began, Charger watched the news. The aliens had spread to much of Earth and, when the military command finally got a satellite into orbit, the remaining humans could see that behind enemy lines, the planet was desolate.

  Charger shook his head. Sure, the humans had cut into the world for resources, built their homes on land taken from other living beings, but they had been learning. Before the invasion, they had begun giving back to Earth, patching damage done here and there. Humans had felt good about themselves, he thought. But in these satellite photos, Earth was black and barren. There was nothing left behind the alien advance but bare dirt and rocks.

  And the new Hyborgs with Lycans? They were nothing like him. They were smaller, with not as much of an edge. Government cut-backs, the newscaster said. Charger laughed bitterly. They were only Vamps and Lycans, they were only meant to be cannon fodder. But they were angry now. The cry for avenging the planet was growing.

  Chapter 13 Capturing aliens

  Sergeant Hanna Massey began searching the unspoiled green area she'd stumbled into, wondering if her theory that it was an enemy safe haven could be true. She moved carefully from fir trees to cedar trees, sometimes crouching among tall ferns while taking stock. She found no nests of aliens half buried in the soil, no red mass, no sign of any life except for the plants. Flying over from Europe, she'd heard via the radio about the aliens always killing everything when they attacked, even plants and animals. That made no sense. But if true, why hadn't they razed this place down to dirt and rocks? She spent all the remaining daylight hours searching, even to the borders of the green haven, but never finding life. The whole sanctuary, from the ocean inland, was maybe five miles square.

  As night fell, Hanna decided to rest among the trees. In the morning she would continue south, looking for a military organization to join. As she set up her bedding gear, she felt the urge to sleep weighing her down. But before she gave in, it would be wise to r
ecord the area on her camcorder. Switching it to night vision, Hanna began recording, panning the camera in all directions. As she stared at the small viewing screen, a blur flashed across it. A cold shiver ran the length of her body.

  She moved the camera back toward the blur and squinted at the small view screen. There! Something raced past the camera again. Switching to infrared mode, Hanna looked around. With her back pressed firmly against a large Douglas fir, she slowly panned the camera around to her left shoulder. There, not more than three feet from where she sat, four bright orbs hovered a few feet off the ground, at the center of the camcorder screen. Then they blinked. And blinked again.

  "Shit!" Hanna screamed as she grabbed her automatic weapon and fired round after round into the thick dark forest in the direction of the blinking eyes.

  She grabbed the camcorder again and flashed the lens left, then right, up and down, trying desperately to find those blinking eyes. There was nothing. Whirling around, she looked behind her, half crazed with fear, and fired off more rounds until the magazine was empty. Quickly she reloaded, snatched up her gear and ran hard for the beach. She stopped twice to spray the area with fire and reload, stumbling several times before she reached the beach. There she plunged into the cold ocean water, deeper and deeper. When the weight of the pack on her back forced her head below water, Hanna finally stopped panicking and turned back.

  She was alive. But this place was not a safe haven for enemies, it was a trap for stray humans. She had survived only because of the glimmering light she carried; it had to be very important. "And what the hell was that in the bush?" she wondered. "Goddamn invisible aliens." Hanna drew upon all her courage and set out down the beach to find the human military so she could show them the importance of the glimmering light she had.