Reprobates (The Bohica Chronicles Book 1)

by C. J. Fawcett

  They spun as one, looking back. The top of the inner wall, as was the outer wall, was patrolled and dotted with weapons emplacements. While the outer one had seemed to be weighted with Ma Deuce .50 cals, on this side, there were more flamethrowers.

  “I see how they keep this area burned clean,” Booker said.

  “They’re not messing around. What do you think they’re trying to keep in?” Charles asked.

  “I suppose we’re going to find out,” Roo said, sounding excited. “I need a good challenge.”

  “Speaking of which, what now, boss?” Charles asked. “I mean, that wasn’t any kind of an operations order. Is there anything more on that tablet she gave you?”

  Booker turned the tablet on, studied it for a moment, and said, “Okay. Looks like we’re heading straight in. The asset is twenty-five klicks ahead of our current position. If we head out at a steady clip, I don’t see why we wouldn’t be able to drive that truck back to the gate in time for dinner.” He secured the iPad in his rucksack and slipped the key fob into a zippered pocket at his hip.

  “That’s it. That’s still nothing. Where’s the Five Paragraph Order? What are the coordinates?” Charles asked.

  “That’s all there is. Civilians,” he said, his tone making no bones about what he thought of them. “And about the coordinates? Funny thing, that. She didn’t give us coordinates. There’s this map, but it’s total shit. We’ve got an azimuth and distance. Uh—you guys do know your pace counts, right?” he asked.

  “That’s it?” Charles asked. “I haven’t done pace counts since boot camp. But yeah, I know mine.”

  “Good on you,” Roo muttered. “Give me my GPS any day.”

  “Well, then, let’s get a move on,” Booker told them briskly.

  “Just like that? Just diddibop into that jungle there? The one that ate up that poor guy we saw? No planning other than ‘let’s get a move on?’”

  “Stop whining. Man up, Marine,” Roo said. “If that’s all they gave us, then it is what it is. Military plans never work out anyhow. We move on and adjust as need be.”

  Charles glared at the Aussie, who stared nonchalantly in return, unconcerned that the big man might erupt in frustration. Charles looked like he was going to argue, and he turned to Booker, but the SAS soldier wouldn’t meet the Marine’s eyes. Finally, he muttered under his breath, then nodded.

  That settled, Booker strode forward across the scarred sand. Charles and Roo followed. The burned area stretched for about forty meters until the foliage began to fight for purchase, and within another twenty, it was at full growth. In one moment, they were walking across the desolate, scarred desert, and in the next, they were in another world.

  “Alien oasis,” Roo said. “Hard-core.”

  “I’ve always preferred the jungle to desert,” Charles said.

  “Where do you think all this shit came from? I mean, this was all sand dunes, like outside the wall,” the Aussie pointed out.

  “Who knows? Government’s brought in some if the rumors are true. Birds flying over the walls. Bugs. Desert lizards and such. By the looks of it, the aliens took what they were given and ran with it,” Booker suggested. “The how doesn’t matter much to us now, only the what. Let’s keep going,” he added. He didn’t give them time to gawk. Instead, he strode along a track that had been cut through the ferns and underbrush and quietly counted out the pace every time his left foot hit the ground.

  After the first klick in the wrong direction, Booker had caught his mistake and corrected their course to reach their objective. It was all starting to come back to him, but he felt he couldn’t be blamed for the misstep. Roo and Charles hadn’t bothered stepping up, and besides, who the fuck used azimuths to navigate nowadays anyway? He knew he was pissed that he’d made a wrong turn. He wasn’t used to making mistakes and was naturally good at everything he put his hand to. Irritated, he held onto the mistake for a few moments and then let it roll off him and fall away. It had been inconsequential, although he knew he couldn’t afford mistakes when the mission kicked into high gear. For now, it wouldn’t help anything to dwell on it. A soldier had to keep moving forward.

  “Thought this place was supposed to be some sort of ball-busting alien playground,” Roo commented as they marched.

  “Sure looks normal to me,” Charles said.

  Booker shrugged. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Some of the most dangerous things come in seemingly normal packages. Women, for example.”

  The Aussie laughed. “You scared of birds?”

  “I didn’t say I was scared. I just said women could be dangerous.”

  The man laughed again, and the American punched him in the arm as he quipped, “I think the better description would be unpredictable.”

  “Okay. Now you’ve had your laugh, let’s get going. Charles, want to show us how the Marines march?”

  Charles lengthened his stride and easily upped the pace, making sure the other two could maintain it. The world around them stayed silent, the only sounds their measured breaths and bootsteps on the hard-packed dirt. Booker kept the pace count going. Habit took hold and Charles started sounding off, the other two happy to oblige.

  “Goin’ for a stroll in an alien Zoo. Gonna get ourselves a what?”

  “A truck!”

  “Goin’ for a stroll in an alien Zoo. Gonna have ourselves a what?”

  “Payday!”

  “Goin’ for a stroll in an alien Zoo. Sound off!”

  “One, two!”

  “Sound off!”

  “Three, four!”

  “Goin’ for a stroll.”

  “One, two, three, four!”

  Ten klicks in, things became stranger. It started with the plants. As the light of day bled through the thick canopy of leaves, it illuminated the plants along the rough-hewn pathway. Ferns and what looked like normal rainforest vegetation appeared, but everything became larger. The colors deepened and brightened, the vibrant green mottled by over-saturated yellows, reds, and pinks.

  Charles stopped and knelt, examining a creeping ground cover that was prevalent. It grew low to the ground with pearl-white flowers, and it spread between the trees, seemingly giving the trunks a wide berth. He picked one of the flowers and saw that each had a stem that burrowed into the ground, yet there were also stems that connected each flower to the ones beside it.

  “Look at this. They’re separate, yet all connected to each other, kind of like Pando.”

  “Pando?” Booker asked.

  “Yeah, you know, that giant colony of quaking aspen in Utah. It’s really all one tree. They’re just connected under the ground with one giant root system.”

  “And that’s important how?” Roo asked.

  “I guess not much, but it’s interesting, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe yes, maybe no, but if you’re done playing botanist, can we continue?” Booker asked.

  “Right. Let’s get going.” Charles stood.

  They moved deeper into the jungle, and animals began to appear. A few small creatures skittered across the path and the American almost tripped over a mutant that looked much like a mouse—except it was the size of a housecat and had six legs.

  “Okay, shit’s getting weird,” Roo huffed.

  “I think that’s the alien part kicking in,” Booker said.

  Charles halted, his teammates stopping beside him. He looked to either side of the path, his body tense. “There’s something out there.”

  Booker scanned the undergrowth, but it was too dense to see anything. Roo looked at the canopy of trees that towered above their heads. What looked like a monkey jumped across the path above their heads, but when it looked down, it had four eyes, each one a sickly, glowing yellow. It screamed down at the men.

  The Aussie grimaced at it. “Nasty wanker.”

  “If they’re all as big as that mouse thing was, then we should be fine,” Booker commented.

  Charles shook his head. “Whatever is out there, it’s big.
Don’t you feel it?”

  “Feel what?” Roo asked.

  “We’re being hunted.”

  They stood at the ready for several minutes. The Zoo around them, once silent, now seemed laced with a foreign menace. It hummed around them, the sound like a swarm of bees underwater. Charles brought his rifle to the ready position. Roo drew his Ari B’Lilah from its sheath, the wicked edge of the knife catching the light.

  Booker shook his head. “Whatever it is, it’s waiting. We have to keep moving.”

  The American led the way with Booker behind, and Roo took up the rear, watching their six. The creature to the left kept pace.

  “At least there seems to be only one,” Charles said.

  A flash of green paler than the rest of the foliage showed through the underbrush. A thrumming sort of growl started.

  “How far out are we?” Roo asked, sighting into the trees on the left.

  “Two klicks out,” Booker said.

  The creature moved closer to the path, abandoning stealth. It crashed along beside the men, still out of sight. They caught only light-green flashes of what appeared to be reptilian skin.

  “Ah, fuck this bullshit,” the Aussie protested, squaring his shoulders. He opened fire into the dense vegetation.

  His companions halted and peered into the thick jungle, their weapons trained to where the rounds had gone. Silence descended on them. There was no answer from the creature and the growling had stopped.

  “Did you hit it?” Booker asked.

  “Did you see it?” Charles asked at the same time.

  Roo rolled his eyes. “I knew where it was, generally.”

  The American raised an eyebrow. “Generally? A little trigger happy, are we?”

  “I just don’t like running.”

  Booker straightened. “Well, it seems you scared it off. Let’s keep—” He was cut off as a massive creature launched itself from the foliage. It had four limbs that ended in two-pronged, clawed feet. A spined tail as thick as a tree trunk whipped toward Charles. Its jaws opened wide, revealing a mouth full of jagged teeth dripping with blue saliva.

  Roo fired and it whipped its head toward him while a high-pitched scream ripped from its throat. Light blue sacs expanded between its shoulder blades and under its head.

  “I think you’re just making it mad,” Booker said and fired a few times at its head. The rounds glanced off its tough hide.

  “Ugly motherfucker, aren’t you?” the Aussie growled.

  The creature hissed, then made a sound like boiling water.

  “What is that?” Charles asked, looking calmly down the stock of his shotgun.

  “Whatever it is, it can’t be good,” the Brit said.

  The creature circled the men. They mimicked its movements. Six small, pale-blue eyes lined each side of its head, all twelve blinking at them. It opened its mouth again and spat a thick blue substance. Roo leapt out of the way, rolling just in time. The spit hit the plants where he had been and the green leached from them, the leaves bubbling up and melting with an acidic sizzle.

  “That’s bleddy brilliant.” Booker fired at the monster’s broad side.

  It struck out at Roo and he rolled out of the way again but fired as he moved. “Any time now, guys,” he yelled.

  Their attacker made the bubbling noise again, the light-blue acid sacs glowing faintly. It turned its head toward the Australian again.

  Charles took aim as the sac between its shoulder blades filled, the blue skin thinning and glowing. “Okay. Play time’s over.” He fired. The enemy screamed when the sac exploded, its own acidic saliva searing through its sides. He fired again to deliver a round behind its hinged jaw and it collapsed in a twitching, oozing heap.

  “That shit’s nasty,” Roo said, kicking the creature in the head, careful to avoid the corrosive fluid.

  “Well, now we know,” Booker said briskly. “If everything’s like…whatever that thing is, we can handle it. Charles was so good as to figure out its weak spot.”

  The American shrugged. “Let’s go get that asset.”

  With a slightly quicker pace, they easily covered the remaining distance to their target. The Zoo had come alive. Large creatures thrashed through the jungle on either side of them, although they stayed out of sight and didn’t attack. The men didn’t lower their weapons.

  “Based on this azimuth and the map, the objective should be close by,” Booker warned them.

  They peered between the trees around them, seeing nothing but jungle.

  “This is why they invented GPS,” Roo muttered. “Exact coordinates. Easily getting from point A to point B.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure they created GPS just for your convenience,” the Brit muttered.

  “I know people,” he snapped in response.

  Charles rolled his eyes. “Oh, look out, the Aussie’s got ‘people,’” he said with air quotes.

  Roo flipped him off.

  “Stop jabbering. We aren’t going to find the objective discussing the invention of GPS.”

  “Where should we start?”

  Booker looked around at the dense jungle. “It isn’t supposed to be far from here,” he said. “I don’t think splitting up is a good idea. We can use this central location and then spiral out from here.”

  They spent an hour striding through thick underbrush and between the dense trees until they found the objective in the center of a small clearing.

  “I guess you can navigate the old way,” Roo commented.

  The ancient M9 half-track was just ahead of them where deep ruts marred the earth, and the surrounding foliage was completely trashed. Dried blood marked some of its surfaces. The three stopped in front of it.

  “You ever seen one of these before?” Charles asked, taking in the tracks the vehicle had instead of rear wheels.

  “Not in a long time. Looks like a right POS,” Roo said. “Don’t see how it’s worth fifty big ones.”

  Booker circled the vehicle and grimaced. “Jesus, the thing’s been ripped open.” His teammates joined him. The truck’s side was scored by four long gouges, the metal curled back.

  “I don’t have any desire to meet whatever did that,” Charles said.

  The Brit clicked the fob and opened the door. The cab had old blood splattered throughout. The seats were ripped, and half the windshield was shattered from the inside. He leaned in and then flung a single boot from under the passenger seat. It landed behind him with a squelch.

  “Don’t think that was empty,” Roo muttered.

  He shrugged. “Why’d you think I pulled it out?”

  Charles inspected the cargo. Large rectangular crates were stacked precariously in the back. The material was hard and porous but smooth to the touch. Each was sealed with a complicated locking mechanism that Charles didn’t feel like figuring out, but it seemed to involve a thumbprint and several keys. He righted a few that had tipped. They were lighter than he had expected.

  “Either everyone died, or they left in too much of a hurry to get these crates strapped in,” he said, ratcheting the straps tight and securing the cargo.

  “Okay. We’ve secured the asset, now let’s bring ʼer home and get paid,” Booker said.

  “Do you always describe exactly what you’re doing, or do you just think we’re dense?” Roo asked.

  The Brit shrugged, and Charles laughed.

  Booker got in the truck and after a few seconds of fiddling, had it started. “There’s not enough room for all three of us. You two decide who gets the back.”

  His teammates looked at one another and Roo lunged for the passenger door. Charles climbed into the back, his weapon at the ready. He thumped his fist onto the roof of the cab.

  The vehicle lurched forward, the tread spinning and then catching on the torn earth. With a great metallic whine, Booker drove the half-track back the way they had come.

  Roo had his window down, the barrel of his gun aimed at the foliage. Charles scanned their surroundings. He knew there were cre
atures out there; he just couldn’t see them.

  The Brit slid the back window open so the other man could hear what was going on in the cab. “We should’ve been attacked again by now,” he said. “It’s not like we’ve been quiet.”

  “Do you want to be attacked?” Charles asked.

  “Well, not necessarily. Although I do want to have a go at slaying one of those creatures,” he replied.

  “What the fuck is that thing?” Roo asked, indicating a large mound of earth they were rumbling past. “I don’t remember that being there when we came through.”

  “That’s ʼcause it wasn’t there before,” Charles pointed out.

  The air suddenly seemed to vibrate with the sound of buzzing.

  “Where the fuck is that coming from?” the Aussie yelled.

  Booker tried to get the half-track to go faster.

  Charles scanned around them but didn’t see anything.

  The buzzing droned closer, and six giant winged creatures erupted from behind the mound of earth.

  “Oh, hell no, they have giant bugs?” the American said between gritted teeth. He fired as the creatures flew toward the vehicle.

  Big as mastiffs, with five eyes and snapping mandibles, the locust-like creatures swarmed forward. He fired, bracing his back against the cab, pouring a steady stream of lead at the oncoming creatures. A round entered its open mouth and ripped out the back of its body. It spiraled and fell to strike the back bumper of the truck with a wet smack.

  He pulled the pin on one of his phosphorous grenades, counted to four, and lobbed it. It exploded in mid-air, the burning phosphorus annihilating three of the flying locust-like monsters. He tried again with a second grenade, but the animals dodged, the explosion only destroying greenery.

  Roo opened the passenger side door, swung himself out, and fired his Smith and Wesson at the insects. His volley obliterated another.

  “Are you guys finished with these nuisances yet?” Booker yelled.

  Charles grunted and fired again. The enemy he had aimed at dodged, then zipped forward. He had to drop the shotgun and grip the creature by its snapping mandibles as they fell together to the truck bed with him on top. With one hand holding the ugly head at bay, he drew his sig and put three rounds through its snapping jaws. He stood, dragged the bloody and dead creature with him, and hurled it from the vehicle.