Earthlings (Soldiers of Earthrise Book 2)

by Daniel Arenson

  "Hell yeah!" Clay cried. "I'm a slitfucker, says so right on my helmet. I'm going to fuck every last one of those slits."

  A few other officers glared at him. Judging by the fury in their eyes, they didn't appreciate a brute like Clay joining the officer class. Especially not as a mustang—an enlisted man given a battlefield commission, never having gone to officer school or a military academy. Officers still held themselves to a higher standard, which Clay was pissing all over. But the colonel ignored the disruption.

  "The Kalayaan don't have proper military bases," Pascal said. "The Kennys are far too wily for that. They're hiding in villages among the women and children. Like cowards. Every platoon in this brigade will be assigned a Bahayan village. Your job is to mop up the villages and kill every last damn Kenny you find. Any questions?"

  Jon raised his hand. "Yes, sir! I have a question."

  All eyes turned toward him. Jon felt a moment of dismay. He wasn't used to thousands of people looking at him. It was funny. He had faced thousands of enemy guns, and he was nervous about thousands of eyeballs.

  The colonel nodded. "Speak, son."

  "If the Kennys are hiding in villages, they'll be disguised as farmers or fishermen. How are we to tell who's a peaceful villager and who's a Kalayaan guerrilla?"

  "Excellent question, Corporal!" the colonel said. "And I salute your morality. Did everyone hear the corporal? How can we tell who's an innocent Bahayan to liberate, and who's a Kenny to exterminate? Well, let me tell you. If they run toward you, they're the enemy. If they run from you, they're the enemy. Anyone who moves is your enemy! You will find the enemy and destroy him. Kill every last one. Any more questions?"

  There weren't.

  "All right, punks!" the colonel said. "Go out there and kill some Kennys!"

  With rumbling jeeps, roaring armacars, and trucks full of ammo, Apollo Brigade rolled out. They headed north. To war. To madness. Farther and farther away from Maria and any semblance of civilization or sanity.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Shattered Sword

  She slept in a stone coffin, the dead all around, and she dreamed.

  In her dream, Maria was wandering the rainforest. The trees were tall and dark, and mist floated between the boughs. Many eyes peered from the shadowy branches like the candles of monks marching through catacombs.

  The forest was dark, but a silver stream guided her, slender and undulating like a serpent. She followed the silver thread, passing through shadows where monsters peered, over battlefields where dead soldiers lay, and through the skeletons of dead giants, their ribs rising like cathedral columns. Through all the horrors of the world this silver path led her. And Maria followed the light, even as all around her the monsters snorted and sniffed, and demons hissed.

  Finally she came to a forest clearing. Palisades of black trees circled a crater. Cobblestones covered the crater floor, mossy and crumbling, engraved with ancient runes. Dry leaves and lizards scuttled between creeping roots, and when the wind moaned, acorns rolled like dice. An altar rose in the center of the crater, draped with ivy, and upon it lay a shattered stone sword.

  Maria stepped closer, and she saw that the altar was bleeding. The sword must have struck the stone with great strength, cracking the altar but also shattering the blade. Blood dripped across the altar, staining the shards of the broken sword. The hilt lay on the bleeding stone, shaped like a phoenix.

  A cry distracted her. A baby lay upon the altar, bloody like a newborn. It looked at her and wept and wept. A baby with pale skin, trapped in a beam of moonlight.

  Maria lifted the newborn, and it nuzzled her and sucked from her breast.

  When it was full, the baby looked up at her, milk on its lips.

  "I was born from sword striking altar," the baby said. "I was born of stone and blood."

  Maria bolted up, gasping for air.

  She found herself back in Mindao Cemetery, sitting upright in her stone coffin, the one she shared with a child's skeleton.

  It was morning, but she felt dazed, as if she had barely slept at all. The dream kept tugging at her. She could still hear the rustling leaves on the cobblestones. Hear the baby's cry.

  Other gravedwellers were only now retiring to bed. They shuffled through the cemetery, weary souls, dressed in rags and coated with ashes. Men with skinny legs and long white beards. Dour girls with pale faces and dark eyes like bottomless pits. All night, perhaps, they had been dancing with the dead. Now they climbed into their coffins, sharing them with the skeletons, and pulled the lids shut.

  The night of dark magic and strange dreams was over. Cold reality dawned.

  But Maria could not forget her dream. Even as she walked along the city streets that day, recording stories on her camera, she thought of that crater in the forest. Of a sword with a phoenix hilt, shattering against a bleeding altar. Of a baby suckling at her breast.

  And Maria realized that she had missed her period.

  That she was, in fact, quite late.

  She placed her hand on her belly.

  No.

  A trembling seized her.

  It can't be.

  She began to pant. How could this happen? She had only slept with Jon a few times!

  We did not use a condom, she remembered, feeling faint. Condoms were illegal on Bahay, a devoutly Catholic planet, but sometimes soldiers brought them from Earth. Jon had not.

  I was a virgin. So was he. We thought ourselves safe.

  She tightened her lips. It was surely just her stress, her hunger. Couldn't those cause a girl to be late? Maria did not know. Her mother had never taught her these things.

  Charlie will know, she thought.

  She broke into a run.

  * * * * *

  Maria ran through the shantytowns, past an army base, around a refugee camp, and finally along the Blue Boulevard. It was early. The neon lights were off. The bars, so luminous at night, huddled like frightened beetles in nests of concrete and electric cables. But already Earthling soldiers were prowling the strip, determined to spend their short leave drinking booze, smoking drugs, and banging bargirls. And those bargirls were already out in force, seeking their first catches of the day. They strutted along the boulevard, their short skirts like fishing lures, drawing patrons into the clubs. There they could earn a commission for every drink sold—and extra if they took a soldier to bed.

  But Maria avoided the main strip now. She was no longer a bargirl, could not be a bargirl. Not with Ernesto after her. She had become a creature of shadows, and she slunk through the back alleys, avoiding the bright boulevard. She moved with the rats, the stray cats, and the thousands of orphans who lived in these side streets, struggling like the animals to survive.

  She reached the back of the Go Go Cowgirl. The alley was strewn with paper cups, condom wrappers, and beer cans. Bundles of cables sagged above, shattering the sunlight into a thousand motes like broken glass. Music and laughter drifted from the club like echoes of a dream. The jukebox was playing "Memories of Manila," a popular Bahayan ballad. Somebody was singing bad karaoke.

  Maria sneaked through the back door, entering the kitchen.

  At once she leaped back and hid.

  He was inside. The Magic Man.

  Her old pimp still wore his garish purple suit, and golden chains jangled around his neck and arms. His hair was still oily and slicked back, his goatee neatly trimmed.

  "What is this?" the pimp was saying, voice leaking into the alley. "You call this a cheeseburger? This tastes like crap!" Dishes shattered. "My clients are putes, and they demand proper pute food!"

  "But Magic Man, all the Earthling food tastes like crap!" the chef was objecting. "That's how it's supposed to taste."

  "Well, you're supposed to be dead in a trash heap, but I gave you a job. Now cook them again, damn it!"

  Maria heard a hand slap flesh, a yelp, then the Magic Man stomping off.

  She crept back into the kitchen. The chef was there, picking up piec
es of shattered plates, grumbling under his breath.

  "I should kill him!" the portly man was saying. "I should kill him, then get work at the Cockatoo Club. It's cleaner too, and—" He gasped and dropped the shards of plate. "Maria de la Cruz! You're back!"

  Maria cringed. "Shh! Oscar, please. Be quiet."

  But he was already rushing toward her, his ample belly swaying. Chef Oscar was probably the only fat man in Mindao, no doubt achieved by pilfering quite a few meals. He pulled Maria into a warm embrace.

  "Welcome back, Nini! Can I cook you anything? Just tell Tito Oscar."

  "Please, Oscar, keep it quiet! He'll hear."

  She glanced toward the door that led to the common room. The music was still pounding, but she could hear the Magic Man schmoozing the guests, recommending this or that lager, this or that girl. It was still early, and there were probably only a handful of Earthlings here now, but the bar would be full to bursting tonight.

  "Sweet Maria." Oscar brushed back a strand of her hair. "I'll cook you a meal. Not this silly pute food." He gestured at a few clumsily made cheeseburgers and pizzas. "How about a nice chicken adobo and some rice?"

  Her belly rumbled. She had not eaten all day.

  And my child needs food, she thought. She shivered, reminding herself why she had come.

  "I would love that, Tito Oscar. Soon. Right now, I need to see Charlie. Can you call her please?"

  The door banged open, nearly giving Maria a heart attack.

  But it wasn't the Magic Man. Charlie came strutting into the kitchen. Even with ridiculously high heels, she moved with feline grace. She wore lacy lingerie and a cowgirl hat, and a cigarette dangled between her brightly-painted lips.

  "I could hear you from across the club, you fat fuck." Charlie smacked Oscar's head. "Thankfully the Magic Man is busy singing karaoke and did not hear. Be careful next time, you stupid idiot!" She turned toward Maria, and her voice softened. She held out her arms. "Come to Tita Charlie, Nini. Give me a hug."

  They shared a quick embrace.

  "Charlie," Maria whispered. "I had to talk to you. I need help. I…"

  Suddenly tears were flowing, and she was trembling. Maria cried like she had never cried, not even in the jungle.

  Charlie cooed over her like a mother bird, drying her tears. She peeked into the common room. The Magic Man was on stage, belting an off-key rendition of Frank Sinatra's "My Way." Earthling soldiers were booing and pelting him with beer cans and chicken bones.

  "Come on, Nini," Charlie said. "Now's our chance."

  She pulled Maria into the common room, where they slunk along the wall, sticking to the shadows.

  "I did it myyy wayyy!" the Magic Man was crooning.

  "Get off the stage!" an Earthling cried and tossed a bottle.

  As the Magic Man fled the stage to the sound of laughter, the two women hurried upstairs. Soon they heard cheers from below. The bargirls must have replaced the Magic Man on stage for the day's first striptease.

  Maria and Charlie walked down the hallway, stepping around a few drunken Earthlings, a sleeping dog, and a couple of bargirls snorting shabu. They entered Charlie's room.

  It was a small concrete cell. Charlie's four children were here, sitting on the floor, doing homework. Outside the window, the strip was slowly coming to life. The neon sign of the Bottoms Up club was flickering, prostitutes were prowling, and music was playing, but the children didn't seem to notice. They were busy with their notebooks, studying English and math.

  "This ain't no place to raise kids," Charlie said. "Above a club like this. And the kids have to go into the hallway and wait when men fuck me here. But since that bastard Ernesto burned down my house, well, here we are."

  Maria's heart melted. "Oh, Charlie, I'm sorry. It's my fault."

  Charlie shrugged. "Eh, it's not too bad. And it's not your fault. Besides it's only temporary. Soon enough a kind Earthling man will marry me. Like Jon married you. And he'll take me and the kids to Earth. I know it. We'll have a big house with a spiraling staircase. Like this."

  She pointed at a photo on the wall, perhaps ripped from a magazine, showing a huge Earth-style house. It probably included at least three rooms, maybe four. At first, Maria mistook it for a hotel. Surely a single family did not need a mansion this size! Compared to Bahayan huts or shanties, it looked like a palace. But Jon had told her that many Earthlings lived in big houses like that. That he himself had grown up in one.

  "If that doesn't happen, Charlie," Maria said softly, "maybe you can come with Jon and me. Earthling houses are big. There will be room for you, I'm sure."

  Charlie snorted. "We're not Mormons. He can't marry both of us. And you need a visa to go to Earth. Only a soldier's wife can get a visa." She pushed up her breasts and adjusted her bra. "Not to worry, Tita Charlie's still got it. I'm going to woo a husband with these puppies tonight, you just wait and see."

  Maria sighed. "I wish I had big dibdibs like you. Yours are almost like an Earthling woman's." She looked down at her own humble breasts. "Mine are like tiny baby Santelmos."

  Charlie laughed. "You didn't come back to the Go Go Cowgirl to talk about tits. What's on your mind?"

  They sat on the bed. Maria was trembling again. And she told Charlie. About sleeping with Jon but not using protection. About her period being late. About her dream.

  Charlie frowned. "Why didn't you use a condom, silly girl?"

  Maria blushed and clutched the cross that hung around her neck. "They're illegal on Bahay."

  Charlie snorted. "Oh, please, so is shabu, but since when do bargirls give a damn? And the Earthlings brought more condoms here than bullets."

  "I don't know then!" Maria said. "I… I didn't know much about sex. My mother never taught me, and…" She covered her face. "I feel so stupid."

  "You didn't know how babies were made?" Charlie said, eyebrows rising.

  "I suppose I did! Somewhere. In the back of my mind. I don't know, Charlie! I fell in love with him, okay? I was scared that night. Scared and in love. And I'm stupid. You know how stupid I am."

  Charlie sighed. "You're not stupid, Maria de la Cruz. You're just young. And… No, okay, you are stupid. But hopefully Tita Charlie can teach you a few things." She rummaged through her purse. "Here, try this, stupid girl. Take this stick. Go pee on it."

  Maria looked at the stick. A pregnancy test.

  She took it to the toilet. She came back crying.

  Charlie looked at her. She looked at the stick.

  A positive sign.

  "I'm pregnant," Maria whispered.

  She sniffed, shaking, as Charlie embraced her.

  "Oh, sweetie," Charlie said. "Don't cry. It's okay! Children are a joy. Other than my useless brats, that is." She looked toward her kids and shook her fist. "Get back to your homework, you useless little idiots, or do you want to grow up like me?"

  Maria wiped her eyes, but she could not stop shaking. "Charlie, I'm scared. What if Jon doesn't come back? What if I'm left alone with a baby, and we're homeless and hungry? What if the war just goes on and on, and I end up like—" She bit down on her tongue.

  Charlie placed a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow. "Like me?"

  "I didn't mean—"

  "Yes you did." Charlie sighed. "And you're right. You don't want to end up like me. An aging whore. Who would?" She held Maria's hand. "Mister Jon will come back, Maria. I know it. He's not some stupid pute who would run into gunfire, trying to become a hero, and only become a corpse. He's careful. And he knows you're waiting. He'll come back, and he'll take you to Earth, and the baby too." Tears smudged Charlie's makeup. "You'll live in a big house with a green yard, and a spiraling staircase, and you'll be so happy."

  That night, Maria walked for hours, along train tracks and highways, through bustling boulevards and decaying shantytowns, until she reached the end of the city.

  She stood in the darkness, facing the edge of wilderness. Behind her Mindao perched on the land like a boil—bloated, glowing
, rotting. Before her spread the darkness, a living, whispering being, guarding the beasts of flaming war. Maria stood here between neon and fire, looked to the northern distance, and placed a hand on her belly.

  "Are you thinking of me too, Jon?" she whispered. "Do you miss me too?" She looked up at the twin moons. "Do you look upon the same moons, and do you wish we were together?"

  She closed her eyes, and she imagined he was here. Holding her hand. Laughing with her. Playing cards. Hugging and kissing her. Telling her it would all be okay.

  She opened her eyes and gazed into the darkness.

  "I love you, Jon. Come back to me. Come back to our child."

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Village of Roses

  Lieutenant Clay Hagen, ears dangling around his neck, led his platoon to battle.

  Their jeeps rumbled over the charred landscape of this shithole world. This maggot-infested wasteland. This playground of mutilation. Clay watched the landscape roll by, his blood bubbling hotter, hotter, his cock hardening in his pants, his lust for the killing blazing like an inferno in his belly. He loved this feeling. He lived for this feeling. Planet Bahay. The galaxy's premier hunting ground.

  Clay had gone hunting many times as a child. He would roam through the town of Lindenville, hunting squirrels. Stray cats. Sometimes dogs he snatched from yards. He loved the thrill of the chase. Loved the fear in the animals' eyes. He loved how they squealed as he dissected them. As he pinned their skin into the ground. As he pulled out organs and watched them pulse and quiver and bleed over his hands. He delighted in keeping his projects alive as long as possible. He was a scientist of pain.

  Sometimes Clay would collect trophies from those animals. In his bedroom, he had drawers full of them. Dog teeth. Cat paws. Squirrel tails. Sometimes he left mementos for the families whose pets he hunted. A severed cat head in a yard. A beheaded dog on a driveway. Why should only he enjoy his beautiful creations?