The stars and a not-quite-full moon shined down upon a badly mauled Redcoat army entrenched downtown and constantly harassed by predators.
Perhaps the aliens felt they had accomplished something: several square blocks of city had been leveled and no human mortars, cavalry, or snipers threatened since the bombardment.
Victory or not, the Redcoats stowed gear, secured checkpoints, and shortened patrols in preparation for withdrawing at first light.
Jon Brewer's voice transmitted to Shepherd who somehow managed to stay awake and alert at his post in the brewery building: "Okay Shep, Omar made it to us. We're ready to go."
Trevor's voice joined the radio traffic: "Good. Shep, run it down one last time before we dive in. Every one has got to know where the pieces are."
Shep eyed the brightly-lit parking lot between two big-box stores where the Redcoats camped. A dark void filled the gap between his position and the alien HQ.
"Okay, listen up. All four of their regiments are downtown; you know that or we wouldn't be having this conversation. Forgetin’ their checkpoints for now, that leaves their General and his staff with security and a lot of wounded."
Brewer radioed, "How many do you think are up there?"
"Combat effective? About twenty between officers, security, and the gun crews but not including the checkpoints or their air ships."
After a burst of static Trevor said, "If the checkpoints get in on this then things won't go well. As for the air ships, I don't think they're armed. Can their wounded fight? How many?"
Shep clicked on a pen light and checked a pad where he kept notes.
"Between yesterday and today I saw about fifty carried into the stores. I don't know how many of them are still breathing but I haven't seen them come out. Most of their walking wounded are still with their regiments and weren't evacuated up this way."
Jon said, "This is it, then."
Trevor radioed, "Jon, are you good to go? Are you sure?"
His reply: "Are you two? Once we get ahold of the AA guns it's all on you."
"Yeah," Trevor answered, "But if you don't get them we won't last ten seconds."
Shep suffered a long yawn, a symptom of sitting for two days in a cold, dusty old building. He felt the tickle of a sore throat and a touch of stuffiness in his nose. He only hoped it would be a common cold and not some strange alien flu.
He said, "Seems to me things have broke our way better than we could have hoped, so we either ride our hot streak and finish the job, or turn tail and call ourselves lucky."
Jon Brewer transmitted, "Guess I'll get started. Hope to see you again soon. If I don't, well, it's been a pleasure."
The radio went silent; nothing remained to say.
Shepherd settled against the window and enjoyed his front row seat for the show.
– Proven fighters comprised most of Jon Brewer's strike team.
Danny Washburn could handle a gun thanks to government training. Whiskey-despite his age-proved himself during the assault on The Order's base. Ames-the fiery brunette-not only fought bravely during the Allentown expedition but did so wearing a splint on her broken arm (which she still wore). Tolbert was not only physically impressive but had performed well as a rear guard during the extraction from The Order's base.
Two members of his team did not have combat experience: Omar, who would hang back to avoid the fighting anyway, and Lori Brewer, Jon's wife.
She insisted she would not allow her husband to commit suicide alone and claimed her shooting skills-thanks to Nina’s tutelage-had improved.
Jon, reluctantly, included her. However, the mission began a half-hour late because Lori succumbed to a bout of nausea.
Ten Grenadiers-a mix of Rottweilers and Dobermans-rounded out the group.
At 2:30 a.m., they emerged from hiding and followed the plan of movement first conceived by Trevor: the hidden paths cut through Northeastern Pennsylvania by railroad companies. Decades ago, those tracks hauled coal out of the valley and supplies in to the anthracite mines. They crisscrossed through the area like a network of above-ground tunnels.
Jon led them through the pitch-black night surrounded by strange noises and watching eyes. They crossed the Susquehanna on a thin train trestle then through patches of woodland, alongside a stream, and across the boulevard fifty yards from Jerry Shepherd's observation post.
Their stealthy approach benefited from the Redcoats’ decision to park four of their five flying ships for the night. Jon guessed they lacked fuel or perhaps this was another symptom of the aliens' lack of night fighting experience.
After crossing the boulevard, the railroad tracks disappeared into a thick patch of dying brush and trees. The cover allowed them to slip directly beneath the Redcoats’ collective noses; so close, they could hear the undecipherable conversations of sentries.
Nerves and the need for stealth stretched the relatively short trip-a little over a mile- to a ninety-minute creep through a dark nightmare. Nonetheless, they avoided detection.
Jon balanced his M4 rifle against a tree stump, wiped cold sweat off his forehead, and surveyed his unit. For a moment, he worried their frosted exhales might give away their position.
Washburn gripped his own M4 tight and flashed a nervous grin.
Reverend Johnny-who kept watch on things at the estate-had loaned his flamethrower to Tolbert. The sturdy man labored to catch his breath after having hauled the bulky contraption for an hour and a half of walking, jogging, running, and hiding.
Ames, who carried one of the platypus plasma rifles, fell on her rump and held a free hand to her chest as if feeling for a heart beat. Whiskey fiddled with the canvass bag full of ping-pong ball grenades slung over his shoulder. He also carried a nine-millimeter handgun.
Jon’s wife tried hard to appear at ease but the. 44 Desert Eagle pistol she carried trembled in her grasp.
As for Omar, his handgun remained holstered and an unlit cigarette hung from his mouth.
Meanwhile, the stoic and dependable K9s waited on their haunches as if wondering why the group paused.
Jon breathed deep and pointed a small flashlight to the west: toward the brewery. He flashed twice and knew the signal would activate the last piece of the puzzle. In a few seconds, Trevor and Nina would pull the camouflage netting off the Apache hidden on the 16 ^ th hole of the municipal golf course.
Jon, despite the fluttering tickle of fright swirling in his belly, gave his people a thumb up. He locked eyes on Lori and mouthed the words I love you.
She kissed him quick then drove a fist of encouragement into his arm, as if to say ‘let’s go get them’ but her wide eyes and quivering lips could not hide her fear.
The group, except for Omar, exited the brush and quietly climbed the grassy slope toward the parking lot. To Jon’s ears, every brushed blade of dead grass, every pebble knocked loose, every breath sounded as loud as gunshots.
He remained focused on the guardrail at the top of the slope that marked the rim of the lot, fearing the appearance of a curious sentry.
Jon reached the guardrail first, crouched, and peered over. Twenty yards away hovered the first of the four artillery pieces. Further along-another fifteen yards or so-sat one of the all-important anti-aircraft guns.
The crews were not with their weapons; the alien gunners huddled along the sides of the old stores. They appeared cold, bored, and tired.
Perfect.
Jon and Danny led the silent charge while Lori-as per agreement with her husband-stayed at the guardrail. They moved to the first artillery piece undetected, but the time had come to wake the enemy.
Whiskey, stumbling along, threw a glowing grenade into a mass of half-sleeping Redcoats near the wall of the electronics store to the right. Jon and Danny fired on alien soldiers loitering to the left near the old home merchandise outlet.
The exploding ping-pong balls blew apart several tired aliens; more died from gunshots. The ruckus woke the encampment and sent the sounds of battle over the dark valley.
Tolbert, still struggling with the weight of the flamethrower, unleashed a terrifying wall of flames sending alien soldiers running and generating confusion in the ranks.
The dogs swept in snarling and snapping. Redcoat armor provided some protection, but K9s managed to drag many to the ground, digging and ripping until finding tender alien flesh.
They reached and gained control over the two anti-aircraft guns. Tolbert and Ames broke off toward the command post as the half-dressed Redcoat General emerged from his quarters. Ames hit the extraterrestrial square in the chest with a plasma blast.
One of Whiskey's ping-pong grenades tore apart the aliens’ temporary headquarters and Tolbert sprayed fire from his flamethrower, setting alight several soldiers.
Energy bolts whizzed near Jon's head from the surrounding shadows, cutting short any thoughts of a victory dance.
Whiskey pulled a ping-pong grenade and cocked his arm. A blast smacked him and he fell to the pavement.
Danny Washburn grabbed the grenade from the corpse’s hand and lobbed it into the shadows where it exploded far away from anything.
Jon spotted a Redcoat firing line forming at the edge of the camp just beyond one of the four, parked flying machines. The enemy had regrouped quicker than expected and prepared to fire a volley.
Thump-thump-thump.
The air shook. A wind gusted across the parking lot. A portable light pole tumbled and smashed. Something big hovered above.
A hailstorm of bullets ripped in to the forming line of Redcoats, obliterating their armored bodies.
"You guys need a little help down there?"
Nina’s voice crackled from the rear seat of the Apache to Jon’s radio.
"Damn straight, Ghost Rider. Tear em’ up!"
Trevor sat in the forward seat controlling the gunship's armaments. Gunner and pilot both wore night vision goggles.
Nina swerved the ship around searching for targets.
"Hold."
She responded to Trevor’s order and held the craft steady.
The rapid-fire cannon whirled and bullets flew. Two enemy soldiers and the parked car they hid behind shredded to pieces.
"Starboard! Starboard!"
Trevor turned the gun sights to his right at Nina’s warning. A trio of Redcoats stood inside the windows of the electronics outlet, apparently thinking the darkness provided cover.
The ‘copter’s gun fired again. Glass smashed, parts of the store’s ceiling fell, and the aliens broke apart. Trevor kept firing, strafing the prone Redcoats in the makeshift hospital ward: no prisoners would be taken today.
Brewer radioed, "There’s a bunch of them in the other building!"
Nina pulled the helicopter about. The tail rotor knocked over another portable light but she handled the beast with skill, hovering near ground level. Trevor swept the interior until nothing moved.
"Boss! Check it out!" Tolbert yelled and pointed to the sky over the valley.
Jon saw what Tolbert saw: a speck of light flying toward the overrun camp: the only one of the Redcoats' planes off the ground that night.
He frantically waved toward the guardrail. Lori, seeing the signal, escorted Omar to the heart of the camp. The professor had spent a full day smoking cigarettes and observing the big guns from Shepherd’s watch point. While the machines themselves were based on complicated technology, Omar quickly demonstrated that operating the guns posed no challenge.
With an unlit smoke in his mouth, Omar climbed into the gunner’s position on one of the mobile anti-air weapons. He scanned the strange symbols above buttons of various geometric shapes for three seconds, and then went to work.
The barrel elevated, swerved side to side, then down, then up again. The control panel on the anti-aircraft weapon beeped and bleeped.
"Omar…" Jon lead.
The professor muttered, "What are they going to be doing, Mr. Brewer? No weapons are onboard those ships of their's. Nonetheless, I need one…moment…too…"
With an electronic buzz, a thin line of energy flew from the big gun like an arrow made of light. It hit the flying ship, neatly cutting away its mid section as if magically turning the metal there to dust. The remaining pieces of the craft fell to Earth and exploded.
After sweeping the camp one more time, Trevor and Nina tackled the Redcoat checkpoints one after another where they found alert but confused soldiers. It seemed their discipline worked against them. Had they abandoned their posts and rushed to the camp, the aliens would have thwarted Jon's small strike team and retained control of their artillery.
Instead, the Apache preyed on small, clustered groups of sentries at scattered guard posts and dispatched them at the cost of fifty percent of the helicopter’s thirty-millimeter cannon ammunition and two Hellfire missiles.
While the Apache sought out checkpoints, Omar taught a crash course in alien artillery. Forty-five minutes later the big guns fired again.
Trevor and Nina took position near downtown and served as spotters.
The first shots fell randomly around the city; the aim so poor that the Redcoats-huddled in their defensive positions-did not realize the artillery aimed for them.
Until Omar and his gunners found their mark.
The 1 ^ st Regiment, tightly packed inside the big "Bicentennial Building," suffered the worst. Artillery blasts shook the foundation and vaporized support pillars. The inexperienced Commander ordered the evacuation too late. The entire complex crumbled to pieces, killing nearly all the troops housed inside. Those not killed by the demolition, faced a horde of opportunistic ghouls.
Shortly thereafter, Omar aimed for the 3 ^ rd and 4 ^ th Regiments along North Main Street.
The human gunners did not handle the artillery pieces as expertly as the Redcoats. The difference in their success lay in the targets. The Redcoats had tried to stamp out a handful of guerrilla fighters by destroying entire blocks. Their chance of hitting those individuals had been relatively small compared to the size of the area targeted.
In contrast, the Redcoats packed themselves tightly into their points. Every blue bolt that hit one those buildings caught at least some of the enemy soldiers in its blast radius.
Discipline and doctrine were not the only Redcoat traits turned against them that night. The Redcoat artillery had been so intuitively designed that the humans not only learned fast how to fire effectively, but also had no trouble maintaining the barrage: the big energy guns ran on H2o and a special powdery compound added to the artillery much like mixing Kool-Aid into a pitcher of water.
– Dawn brought a dramatically changed battlefield.
Trevor-in the Apache's gunner's seat-watched the landscape scroll below as they flew toward downtown after having refueled at the lake.
Nina-steering the chopper on a steep bank over center city-craned her neck to look down at the broken Bicentennial Building. Omar's artillery barrage had scooped out the center and the outer walls collapsed in. Red-clothed cadavers lay throughout the wreckage.
She said, "Looks even worse now that the sun's up. Most of them died at their posts."
"Not all of them; look south."
Nina did and saw two alien soldiers running from a dozen floating jellyfish creatures.
"Poor bastards," she joked.
"Hey, no, really, we should thank them. You know how many hostiles they took out in town? Hundreds; maybe thousands, I'll bet."
They circled for another pass and then flew northeast toward the captured base camp.
Nina said, "I think I saw something moving over by the boulevard. I want to-oh shit!"
Trevor saw them, too: eight Redcoat soldiers standing in the parking lot of a Bowling Alley. They clearly held the helicopter in their sights.
Nina turned hard and accelerated. Trevor tried to lock-on with the cannon but fired wildly as the chopper bucked.
A volley fired toward the helicopter, but Nina's evasive flying avoided the meat of the shot. A glancing blow hit near the rear-rotor. Alarm bells and warning lights blared in the cockpit; Nina's feet furiously worked the suddenly limp pedals.
"I got it, I got it," Nina's assurance sounded hollow.
The chopper spun left, then right, all while descending dangerously fast first over residential roofs, then nearly into the side of a Wendy's restaurant.
"We're going down! Hold on!"
With a last second jerk on the stick, Nina turned a crash into a hard landing. They settled to a stop a few yards from the remains of the Redcoats' Kidder Street checkpoint.
The two exited the cockpit, drew side arms, and inspected the damage.
"She’ll fly again," Nina predicted as she ran her hand over the skin of the craft. "We just need to find some spare parts."
Trevor changed the subject: "Good job up there."
Nina smiled. "Yeah. You, too."
They stared at one another for three long seconds, then nervously looked away.
Trevor and Nina walked Kidder Street to the parking lot that had once been the Redcoats’ camp. Four of the alien airships, four big pieces of artillery, two tanker vehicles of a kind, and two mobile anti-aircraft guns sat in that parking lot.
Omar shuffled between the guns and planes like an excited child on Christmas morning.
Trevor and Nina approached Jon and Lori.
Nina spoke first: "We kinda trashed the Apache and there's a squad of Redcoats still roaming the boulevard."
Jon Brewer said, "Don’t worry about them. If something doesn't eat them by this afternoon, they'll be on the run out of the valley."
Trevor gave Jon a solid handshake.
"Well done… General. What’s our status?"
"Stonewall and Bear have headed for the estate; they need to rest and refit before they can do anything more. Some other volunteers drove in a while ago and are helping search for enemy stragglers. Personally, I'm exhausted and it's damned cold out here. But you want to know something? I feel like I could do this all day."
"Adrenaline," Lori said. "Winning something like this, the way the odds were stacked against us, it's like a drug, I suppose."
A message came over the radio from Tolbert.
"Yo, boss," he meant Brewer. "We found a couple of them holdin’ up in a corner bar. Could use some extra guns."
Jon told Trevor: "Tolbert’s got a team searching over there," and he pointed to a residential neighborhood below the ridge and to the north before transmitting to Tolbert: "We can’t have them drinking our booze, now can we?"
Jon slung his rifle, took a step in that direction, then turned to Nina. "Hey, you wanna help me out on this or is infantry work too good for the fly girl?"
She shrugged and followed him, rifle in hand.
Trevor stood with Lori Brewer and watched Nina and Jon walk across the parking lot, climb over the guardrail, and disappear down the grassy slope.
"Hey," Lori put an arm on his shoulder. "How is it you knew this would work? How is it that we’re alive when we were outnumbered and outgunned?"
"How did you know when you came up that ridge that you would wipe out this base and survive to tell the tale?"
Lori answered, "I didn't know. Honestly, I was sure we were going to die."
"Yet you did it anyway?"
"Sure," she said and tried to smile. "It didn't seem like I had any other choice other than letting my husband get killed by himself."
"Well there you go. It isn't that I knew it would work, it's that we didn't have any other choice."
Tolbert's voice-from the radio-interrupted their conversation: "They're taking pot shots at us. Where’s our support?"
Jon’s voice: "We’re coming. Over your right shoulder, cutting through the yard."
Tolbert: "’Bout time."
Trevor told Lori, "Your husband…he did a hell of a job."
"Don’t tell him that; he’ll be impossible to live with."
Bang.
An explosion blasted from the neighborhood to the north. Trevor flinched, then saw a puff of smoke drifting from the far side of a house.
His heart stopped as a message broadcast over the radio: "Nina is down! Nina is down!"
Trevor instantly stepped toward the slope but caught himself. In the distance, the smoke rose and dissipated.
Lori growled, "What are you waiting for? Get your ass down there, Trevor. Run…"
Trevor, confusion and fear all over his face, glanced at Lori then moved toward the grassy slope. His walk grew into a jog.
"Run! Go! Now!"
His jog became a trot became a sprint. Trevor bound down the hill nearly falling as he pushed through dead stalks of grass. He stumbled over the railroad tracks and raced across a small street then hopped a decaying old metal fence into a backyard where he stopped at the base of a rear porch.
In front of him, a block away, he saw the bar full of barricaded Redcoats. Jon, Tolbert and others fired into that bar neutralizing the threat. He did not see Nina.
Where is she?
His eyes searched desperately; his mouth gaped…
…Nina stood in the shadows of the porch holding an ice pack on a minor bump to her head. A stray Redcoat burst had hit a propane tank on a gas grille. The explosion merely knocked her to the ground. Jon left her behind with an instant-cold pack from his first aid kit.
Trevor did not see her, but she saw him; she saw him come running around the house searching for her. She saw the look of desperation in his eyes. Nina saw his feelings, forced to the surface by fear. She took a step forward. The boards creaked and grabbed his attention.
He saw her standing with the pack to her head. She did not need it, though. She tossed it aside at the same time that his look of desperation turned into a massive smile of relief.
Then he caught himself. The smile vanished. For a moment, it appeared he would walk away; retreat.
No. No more retreating.
Instead, he walked in big, deliberate-almost angry-strides to the porch. He climbed the stairs. Nina backed into the corner. Her heart raced; she trembled.
Trevor grabbed her shoulders and locked onto her eyes.
"Now you listen to me!" He shouted. "I don’t want to be alone anymore! I don’t want to be afraid anymore!"
She breathed a sigh and a sob all in one exhale as he continued, "I can’t spend every night thinking about you then every day running away from you!"
She shook; her eyes watered.
"Tell me to go away and I’ll go. But you have to tell me that because I’m done hiding from you!" He paused for only a split second then implored, "Say something! Say anything!"
The words flooded out: "What do you want me to say? I’m afraid, damn it, I’m scared!"
"We’re all scared!"
Their words mixed.
"I’ve never been like this before…I’m confused…and I keep wondering…I don’t want to be just a killer…"
He pushed, "Tell me something Nina! Tell me to leave but tell me something!"
"…and I betrayed you…and they made me hate you… but I think I love you!"
The words slipped out; no conscious thought directed them.
Everything stopped. All the mixed words. All the confusing emotions. Time halted.
Nina Forest filled with fear. She had never felt vulnerable before and now she stood there with her heart wide open. He could have shattered her with a word. He could have killed her if he walked away.
Trevor moved his arms from her shoulders to her back and gently pulled her in close; her face buried in his chest and the warmth of their hug chased away the cold of the day.
She whispered softly, "I don’t know…I don’t even know what that means."
"We’re going to find out," he stroked her hair. "We’re going to find out, together."