The Invasion

by Terrance Mulloy

  Joel was ashen and confused as he begun to come around, still reeling from the explosion.

  Matt shot one final look around the trunk of the car he was crouching behind to see obscene phantoms pushing through the boiling smoke, descending on them fast, each leg of the arachnid-shaped machine thudding with impending menace.

  He spun back around to Joel and hoisted him onto his knees. “Think it’s time we bailed this shit-show. Get ready to run!”

  When another gout of plasma whizzed over their heads, Matt screamed in Joel’s face. “Run!!!” Galvanized out of his daze, Joel broke into a full-tilt sprint with Matt towards the fence.

  Matt reached the fence first, and instead of leaping over it, turned and hurled Joel over it like an Olympic shot-putter.

  Joel cleared it and hit the other side, rolling down a small grassy embankment in a half-assed stagger.

  Matt leaped over it as more incoming fire cut the air. Then, they both took off running, tearing through the dense scrub like two heat-seeker missiles. Destination unknown.

  Nine

  Matt pushed through a thicket of beech, emerging onto a narrow fire-trail that cut through rows of dense Cypress trees. Joel followed closely behind, gasping to put some air into his empty lungs. The woods here were relatively untouched from the destruction they had just fled, but the dim sunlight had cast everything in a pale-gray wash. Suddenly, Matt stopped walking and looked up at the sky, his ears now radar dishes.

  “What is it?” whispered Joel tensely behind him, hoping he was not going to have to start running for his life again.

  “Quiet!” Matt growled. “Just listen.”

  Joel looked up at the trees too, straining to listen, dread seeping into his eyes with each passing second. There were no birds chirping, no cars, no planes, not even a dog bark to be heard. There was only a faint, eerie noise building in the distance, like the chatter of a rattlesnake. Suddenly, they felt the ground starting to vibrate underneath them.

  Something was approaching. Something fast.

  “Down!” Matt snapped.

  As they both dropped to the ground an alien scout ship punctured the tree canopy above, dragging smoke in its wake as it de-cloaked. The strange, luminescent stipples across its black hull flickered in rapid agitation, as if the ship was scanning for targets.

  Matt and Joel scrambled under a mottled hedge of scrub, peering up at the ship while it drifted towards them. As it passed overhead, they felt a blast of heat wash over their faces. Then, the ship rocked to a sudden stop, its engines spooling down with a strange mechanical groan while it continued to scan.

  Matt kept a firm grip on his rifle as he laid there, still as humanly possible, eyes agog, his face beaded in thick sweat. Joel was curled up into a tight ball next to him, his face planted into the ground. It was the only way to muffle his whimpering. Every agonizing second felt like they were enduring an eternity while the ship appeared to just sit there, floating. Then, a harsh bleating sound assaulted their ears before the ship rocketed back up through the trees, disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

  The moment it was out of sight, Matt and Joel scurried to their feet and took off through the woods in a frantic dash.

  Matt and Joel pushed up a hilltop covered with tall grass, coming to a stop just before they fully crested it.

  In the distance, they spied a ramshackle Sugarberry cottage nestled among thick trees. There were some rusty tractor parts and farming junk littered around the yard, which was mostly overgrown with chickweed, but for the most part, the property looked completely deserted.

  That’s most likely the idea, Matt thought, his cop instincts telling him something was amiss.

  “What do you think, man?” Joel whispered, kneeling in the long grass with his head dipped low. “Might have a room or basement we could hide in.”

  Matt raised his rifle and sighted down his scope, panning slowly over the old cottage. “Hiding is not really on my to-do list. I need to find a car that works.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot. You still wanna drive your ass into town.”

  “No, I wanna drive my ass home and see if my wife and child are still alive.” Matt stood and began to creep towards the cottage.

  Joel looked around, clocking the distant echoes and strange noises that faintly rustled through the trees. Matt had uncuffed him, and the attractive notion of fleeing suddenly crossed his mind. But where exactly would he go? Back out there, alone? He took another few seconds to think it over, then rose and followed Matt through the grass, crouching low. Never in a million years did he ever think he’d feel safer sticking alongside a cop. But then again, never in a million years did he ever think he’d be witnessing the end of mankind.

  Matt cautiously stepped up onto the back porch, buckled wood creaking under each step. Joel crouched at the foot of the steps and waited, keeping an eye on the woods behind them. When Matt inched up to the back door, he carefully peered in through a grimy window pane.

  Beyond the small, dank kitchen, the interior looked barren and sparsely decorated, yet there was clear evidence that perhaps until today, someone had been living here.

  Matt tested the door handle. Surprisingly, it turned. He whirled to Joel and clicked his fingers, signaling that he was about to enter the house. Then, he slowly opened the door.

  Hinges groaned as he stepped into the small kitchen. Flies buzzed around a stack of dirty plates in the sink, and the stove top was scarred with burnt-on grease. The air was thick with the smell of mildew.

  Joel followed him in and saw the open cupboard filled with canned food. Realizing how famished he was, he went to approach, but Matt snatched his arm and yanked him back. Before Joel could protest, Matt raised a finger to his mouth, signaling him to remain quiet. Again, Joel went to speak but this time, Matt drew his attention to the open box of .40 Winchester ammunition resting on the kitchen table.

  Joel got the message.

  Matt gave him a taut nod and continued into the living room. Through ragged curtains, thin beams of gray sunlight illuminated a cramped and dusty space. A low hiss of static played on the holoscreen TV that was floating against the back wall, and the wooden floor was littered with empty beer cans and whiskey bottles.

  Matt also caught sight of a rickety wooden staircase that led up to the second floor. When he took one more step, he heard a familiar click behind him.

  He whirled to see a burly man holding a Springfield pistol to the side of Joel’s head. He appeared disheveled, his brawny arms riddled with DIY jail-house tattoos. His bloodshot eyes were wide and feral, making him appear slightly unhinged. Matt figured he was either a heavy drinker or a Fizz addict. Probably both. “Set your rifle on the ground and slide it over to me,” he said with a hoarse croak.

  Matt slowly raised his hands. “Sir, take it easy. We’re not here to harm you,” he said, pointing a finger to the word POLICE that was sprawled across his ballistic vest in neon-white letters. “You want us to leave, we’ll leave.”

  The burly man pressed the muzzle of his pistol harder against Joel’s temple. It was enough to make him wince. “I said, the rifle.”

  Matt blinked, exchanging an anxious look with Joel. He had no choice but to surrender his weapons.

  “Mister, you want to test my resolve, you go right ahead. But if your friend here dies, that’s on you. Now, one last time - drop the fucking rifle!” The burly man’s threats were definitely earnest in tone. Matt could see his calloused hands were trembling slightly. This man needed to be talked down carefully.

  “OK, just relax there, sir.” Matt slowly unclipped the rifle strap and gently laid the weapon on the wooden floor, surrendering it for the second time in a single day. He slid it over to the burly man, who caught it with his boot.

  “Your sidearm.”

  Matt kept his eyes on the burly man as he slowly unholstered his sidearm and laid it on the ground, sliding it over to him.

  “Mind telling me what the fuck you’re both doing in my house?”
/>   “Refuge. That’s all we were after. We were just seeking refuge from…”

  “From them,” the burly man said, finishing Matt’s sentence for him.

  Matt nodded, hoping he could start building some rapport with this guy. “Yeah. From them.”

  The burly man studied Matt for another moment, then nudged Joel forward, still keeping his pistol leveled on them while he scooped Matt’s firearms up off the floor.

  “Man, fuck this cracker!” snarled Joel, rubbing his left temple. “I don’t need this shit—”

  “Then go!” Matt snapped, motioning to the front door. “You’re free to leave.”

  The burly man watched Joel like a hawk, noting the Odin’s Outlaws tattoo emblazoned across the side of his neck. He then flicked his gaze back to Matt. “Kid’s got some lip. He some kinda perp you were babysitting before the shit hit the fan?”

  Matt went to reply yes, but paused, thinking better of it. “Just someone I picked him up along the way. Decided to trail along.”

  The burly man snorted. He didn’t buy that for a second. He stiffened his aim at Matt. “Then how do I know you didn’t just take these weapons and that vest from some dead cop out there? I’m sure there’s plenty of ‘em around.”

  Matt held up the silver shield that was draped across his ballistic vest. He pressed it and a small holographic photo I.D. appeared. Underneath it was his full name, rank, and badge number. “Like I said, we’re not here to harm you. We just had to find some kind of shelter.”

  Matt verifying himself as a cop seemed to reassure the burly man a little. He gave a dismissive sniff, dumping Matt’s rifle and sidearm on the lumpy sofa behind him. Then, finally, he lowered his handgun and took a seat on the sofa, his weapon resting across his lap. “How bad is it out there?”

  “Bad, ese’,” said Joel.

  “I said, how bad?” asked the burly man, his voice now laced with annoyance.

  “End of the world bad,” said Matt, as he moved to the nearest window and peered out into the front yard, clocking the hybrid pick-up truck parked in the dirt driveway. “Those things - whoever or whatever they are - they’re all over the place.”

  “They were falling outta the goddamn sky, man,” Joel snorted, taking a seat on a wooden stool opposite the sofa.

  “Did I fuckin’ say you could sit on my chair?” snapped the burly man.

  Joel froze, unsure if the burly man was serious or just fucking with him.

  Matt knew he was serious. Dead serious. He had to defuse the growing tension as quickly as possible. “Sir, perhaps you should think about finding an area of the house you can secure. We’d be happy to give you a hand.”

  His suspicions suddenly reinvigorated, the burly man pivoted to Matt. There was now a cynical smirk etched into the corner of his unruly beard. “Why? So you two fuckin’ heroes can steal my vehicle and leave me here to die alone?”

  “That’s not at all what I was saying.” There was a hard glint to this man’s eyes which Matt found unnerving. He took a step towards him, hands held out as a gesture of good faith. “Sir—”

  The burly man jerked his handgun up at Matt nervously. “Don’t take another step.”

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Well you found it, guy.”

  Matt sighed and looked down at the floor. He was done trying to appease this moron. “You wanna shoot an unarmed cop, you go right ahead.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “Then do it! Otherwise, shut the fuck up and listen to what I’m saying. You think you’re safe in here?”

  “You two wanna beef, that’s cool, but I’m outta here,” Joel said, turning towards the front door of the house.

  The burly man snapped his aim to Joel and abruptly stood. “Where you think you’re goin’?”

  Joel froze in his tracks again, his back rigid. “Just let me leave, man. I gotta get home to my girl.”

  “I don’t give a fuck where you need to be,” the burly man sneered.

  “Why are you doing this?” asked Matt.

  “Gee, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I just found two armed strangers inside my house.” He waved his gun at Matt, motioning him to join Joel. “Go stand over there, next to him.”

  Matt leveled a challenging glare then obeyed, joining Joel in the dingy hallway. “You got a name?”

  “Yeah, it’s none of your business.” The burly man stepped into the hallway with them, opening the drawer to a small wooden cabinet. He rummaged through junk, eyes locked on Matt and Joel, fishing out two bits of frayed rope. He tossed them at Matt’s feet. “Tie yourselves up.”

  As Matt bent down to pick up the rope, Joel shook his head. “No way, ese’. No way am I—”

  BAB-BOOM! DUN-DUN-DUN…!

  There was a hollow boom from somewhere outside, followed by a deep, rhythmic mechanical pounding, like the sound of a factory coming to life after a lunch break. Then, the ceiling shuddered, a few chunks of plaster sprinkling over the three men as they all stared up at the ceiling with dread. Something big just passed over the house.

  Joel and Matt looked away and traded eyes. They knew exactly what was out there. They knew exactly what was coming.

  The burly man continued to stare at the ceiling, the sound almost hypnotic now. “The fuck is this?”

  “It’s them,” said Matt, taking his eyes off the burly man to spy his rifle and sidearm still resting on the sofa in the living room. “All this loud yappin’, they probably know we’re in here.”

  The hollow booms drew closer and lower, sounding as if it was right outside the house. Realizing there may be much bigger fish to fry, the burly man marched past Matt and Joel to peer out the front window. There was a brilliant flash of blue light from above, which momentarily blinded him.

  Then, without warning, Matt made a cannonball run for the sofa.

  Still partially blinded, the burly man spun around and shot at Matt, but he had already disappeared behind the wall that separated the living room from the hallway.

  Joel stood frozen in the hallway, unable to will himself to move.

  The burly man grinned and aimed his weapon at Joel. “You shoulda kept running, boy.”

  Joel pinched his eyes shut. This was it.

  Bak-bak-bak!!!

  A taut snap of gunfire rattled over the mechanical pounding outside. The burly man was cut down in a nanosecond, a puff of blood misting the rancid air.

  Joel wheeled to see Matt poised in the hallway, the scope of his rifle pressed firmly against his right eye. He lowered his rifle and looked down at the dead man heaped on the floor, a sense of disgust overtaking him. This was not the way he intended this encounter to go.

  “Thanks…” said Joel, still reeling with shock.

  Matt’s eyes flashed to the irregular light that was continuing to shift outside the front window. “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve still gotta find a way out of here.”

  As if on cue, the mechanical pounding above them stopped. It was quiet out there now.

  Joel turned to the front window of the house, eyes wide with growing concern. “That can’t be good.”

  Matt glanced down at the dead burly man again, noticing a keyring attached to his belt. He bent down and clipped it off. There was a certain key on it that was sure to be for the truck outside. At least he damn well hoped it was.

  Creak-creak-creeeeeeeak…

  The two of them froze, listening intently as something began to walk along the porch outside, wood creaking with each heavy step.

  Then, it too stopped.

  Dead silence again. The only sound was the faint and steady drip of a leaky tap in the kitchen sink.

  Matt glanced at Joel and saw that his eyes were fixed on something behind him in the hallway. His face was a rictus of abject horror. Joel’s mouth opened, and although only a shallow whisper came out, it was enough to chill Matt’s blood. “They… they followed us here…”

  Matt spun around to see a dark smear silhouetted against the
light of the kitchen window. Eerily humanoid. It wore that same macabre black armor as the other beings. Raspy breathing could be heard emanating from a series of thin, gill-like slits in its helmet. Its weapon was aimed at them; a sleek-looking rifle that, for the split-second Matt glimpsed it, reminded him of a sword gleaming in the murky light of some Medieval Keep.

  Instinctively, Matt raised his own rifle and pressed the trigger without hesitating.

  The combined sound of Matt’s rifle discharging, and the otherworldly sound of plasma projectiles shattered the air with a crack so deafeningly loud, Joel instantly thought his eardrums had blown. He ducked and scurried into the nearest bedroom, screaming for dear life, his ears throbbing with pain and blood.

  At the very same second, with uncanny reflexes, Matt dropped to the floor as the alien rifle melted a ten-inch crater in the front door behind him, a beam of smoky light instantly illuminating the hallway like a spotlight.

  Matt kept his trigger fully depressed, the high-velocity rounds pulverized the being as it attempted to evade Matt’s direct line of fire. A fountain of sparks erupted as the being torqued its body to take cover, bullets pinging off its strange armor.

  Then, its knees began to give.

  It stumbled forward, pivoting its weapon to return fire on Matt, but one of his rounds had already penetrated a narrow slit that connected two armored plates at the back of its helmet. The force threw the alien head forward with a brutal snap, tiny bone fragments exploding onto the floor. The being collapsed face-first in the hallway with a loud crash, strange lubricant-like fluid spraying from its armored joints.

  A powerful surge of adrenaline hit Matt like a fevered dream. He was almost dizzy as he sat up against the cratered wall, gasping for breath, his chest heaving through his ballistic vest.

  It took a few seconds for the haze of discharge residue to clear, and when it did, Matt realized the oily substance leaking from the dead alien was actually blood. Black blood.