Aliens Versus Zombies (17 page)

Through a mouthful of food, Amanda announced, “Tomorrow, we’ll sing ‘The Itsy Bitsy Spider’ song!”

* * * *

It was now midsummer and FronCar hated it. He stood under the canopy of the temporary structure in the park at midday, surveying the area. A late afternoon thunderstorm inundated the city and slowed work outdoors to a crawl. The storm did little to cool the air, as it blew in on a hot breeze coming from the south.

The temperature was much hotter outside than the Drahtch were used to on their temperate home world. This far inland, there were no moderating ocean breezes.

For the first time, FronCar saw some of the wisdom in preserving the indigene’s infrastructure. It was hot as a demon’s pit outside, with near hundred-percent humidity on top of that. Without the indigene buildings’ climate control systems, the dwellings would have been unlivable for the hundreds of colonists now occupying the buildings.

Of course, it had taken the fleet’s top engineers weeks to figure out where the nearest power plant was, how the primitive power grid operated (alternating current, of all things!), how the climate controls worked, and to repair much of the damage to the power lines, transformers, and other components between the nearest power plant and these buildings.

Finally, the power was back on in this area, and just in time. Fortunately, it was simple to convert the electricity to a form that was usable by Drahtch equipment and it saved them the trouble of shipping huge power generators down to the city for that purpose. The hydroelectric dam upriver provided all the power they needed.

With power came lights and climate control. That was fine for the colonists, but did nothing to help the soldiers toiling outside in the sweltering heat. FronCan ran a finger around his stiff uniform collar to unstick it from his throat.

I’ll have to give some thought to creating and issuing hot-weather uniforms to the soldiers before half of them died of heat stroke.

He turned and trudged through the rain to the battle pod for the trip back up to orbit. He was looking forward to tomorrow. That was the day they would release the indigenes the doctor had infected with the hyperallergy virus upon an unsuspecting population.

He couldn’t wait.

Platoon Regulator BlexJasp and his seventeen men continued trotting through the subway tunnel, hoping to catch the indies who had killed so many of their fellow soldiers. The tunnel was dark and the air was thick and heavy with humidity. The patter of falling rain and the occasional thunderclap echoed through the last station they passed, but at least down here they were dry.

At one point, they had reached a fork in the tunnel. He’d had to pick one. He chose left. At best, the choice would keep them on the trail of the perpetrators. At worst, they were chasing ghosts up an empty tunnel.

A slight click, like that of a kicked pebble, emanated from up ahead. BlexJasp signaled the others to pick up their pace.

“Let’s kill those damned indies and get back to base.”

There was a flicker of motion just at the limit of their helmet lights. They ran even faster—and then stopped. Coming at them was the damnedest sight BlexJasp had ever seen: Dozens of tiny vermin, running and hopping along the tracks.

Several of his men raised their weapons, but he held up a hand to stop them. The creatures were too small to be a danger. So why were they charging?

He got his answer when they raced past BlexJasp and his men. Not charging…fleeing. But from what?

Seconds later he got the answer to that question as well.

A scream preceded an indigene, who suddenly appeared in the light. He was followed by another, and then several more, and then a flood of them. The cacophony of screeching and hooting reverberated in the tunnel. It was deafening. The buzzes from the energy weapons added to the din.

BlexJasp dropped to one knee and opened fire, as did the men in front. That gave the men farther back a clear line of fire. The indies fell, but others kept coming, scrambling over the bodies of the fallen. They had no hope of reaching the soldiers, but they were too stupid to know that. They came anyway, screaming the whole time.

It seemed as if half of the indies from the city were attacking at once. And then it got worse.

There was more screeching, but this time from behind them. The soldiers in the rear turned and fired at another group of indies. Thus far, those soldiers been unable to join in, due to the ones in front of them blocking their line of fire. Now they had their own targets, and those were easy pickings. Indies fell in droves.

A service door in the tunnel clanged open to BlexJasp’s right and four indies dove into the packed crowd of soldiers. Three more indies followed.

It was a madhouse. Some soldiers shot at the indies coming from in front, some shot at those behind, and many turned to combat the threat in their midst.

Soldiers fell from friendly fire; others from indigene attack. By the time the sea of indies had been dispatched, eight of BlexJasp’s original sixteen men lay dead or critically wounded.

As he stood there, catching his breath, the tunnel lights came on. Power to that portion of the city had been restored.

BlexJasp surveyed the carnage. At least a hundred indies lay all around. In some cases, their red blood mixed with the yellow blood of their victims.

But why had they all attacked at once? Why were they all right here, right now?

He closed his eyes and shook his head when he noticed that the indies all appeared to be soaking wet.

The rain. They all came down from the surface to get out of the rain.

It appeared that even the planet itself was fighting the Drahtch colonization efforts.

With the squad reduced in number from eighteen, including BlexJasp, to only nine, perhaps it didn’t make sense to continue pursuing the indies who had set the traps that killed twenty-two of his men. The thought of giving up galled him to no end. But what if there were a large number of armed indies up ahead? Nine soldiers might not be enough to take them out.

BlexJasp told himself that there would be another opportunity to make them pay. Intelligent indies couldn’t go unnoticed forever. Sooner or later they would stick out like a sore thumb and BlexJasp and a full platoon would be there to even the score—and then some.

Right now, the score, including ChibNorl’s men, stood at fifty-eight of his men dead or out of commission, to none for the responsible indies.

Still, what would his men think if he ordered them to quit now? He didn’t need rumors spreading among the troops that he’d lost his nerve.

Knowing that he was probably putting pride ahead of common sense, he signaled the others to continue on, chasing the indies that he hoped were up ahead, but hadn’t actually seen.

Maybe it was all just a wild orneek chase…

* * * *

Daniels and his team brought up the rear of the human contingent of forty-nine.

The hoots and screeches and howls of Zoms on the warpath, followed by loud buzzes that could only be alien weapons, caused a number of the humans to turn, weapons at the ready. The sounds were clearly a fair distance down the tunnel, and didn’t appear to be getting any closer. But they waited, just in case.

“It sounds like the Zoms did us a favor and at least slowed down the aliens for us,” Daniels said.

The tension rose as the battle continued. Who was going to win?

After a few minutes, silence fell inside the tunnel.

“I hope they took out a bunch of them,” Chrissy replied.

“You hope the aliens took out the Zoms or the Zoms took out the aliens?” Jesse asked.

Chrissy laughed. “Either way is fine by me. With any luck, they wiped each other out.”

Those within earshot laughed, as much from tension release as anything.

Fewer than forty of their party were armed and fight-ready. The others were frail, injured, or children. It wasn’t much of an army with which to take on possibly dozens of aliens armed with energy weapons. There was no telling how many aliens might be pursuing them—if any. The not-knowing was the most worrisome part.

Then the lights in the tunnel came on.

“Uh-oh,” Daniels said. “We’d better get out of this tunnel in case the aliens are right behind us. We’re too exposed here.”

Geoff Meisner, at the head of the group, was of the same opinion.

He told those behind him that they’d better all exit at the next train station and look for cover on the surface. They passed the word along to those behind them, and so on down the line.

They reached the next station in less than twenty minutes. The gate was padlocked.

“Crap.” Geoff had heard the story of how Chrissy had picked the other padlock. He called for her to do the same, now.

Chrissy pushed her way forward through the crowd. She removed her homemade lock-picking tools and went to work.

At the rear of the group, Daniels and the others peered back down the tunnel, flashlights off, straining to see or hear anything that might indicate the approach of aliens.

Was that the sound of a pebble clanking off a rail? Was that the crunch of boots on gravel? Tension and adrenaline could play tricks on one’s senses.

Then, an undeniable clank originated from the darkness. Someone or something was approaching.

In a stage whisper, Daniels told those ahead that they’d better get moving in a hurry, or they’d get pinned down. The message was passed forward until it reached Chrissy and Geoff.

“I’m going as fast as I can. If I rush, I’ll make a mistake and it’ll take even longer.”

“Take your time, missy, and get it right,” Geoff said.

“Those flashlights are blinding me. Just…just turn them both off. I can do it better by feel, anyway. Geoff and Mary turned off their lights and semidarkness enveloped the front of the group.

Another clatter came from behind them, close enough now that even those at the front could clearly hear it.

That increased the tension even more and boosted the pressure on Chrissy.

A whispered voice came from the middle of the group. “Come on, come on! What’s taking so long?”

“Got it!” Chrissy grinned.

She and Geoff unwrapped the chain from around the gate post as quickly as possible, producing a metallic clanking. If anyone was chasing them, they had to hear it.

Behind them, a shout accompanied the crunching sound of many feet running on gravel.

They’d run out of time.

“Move, it move it, move it!” Geoff made no effort to keep quiet at this point, as he waved the others out. “Go to the right and find some sort of defensible position. Missy, you take Mary and lead the others. A few of us will stay here and buy you some time. We’ll be right behind.

Chrissy nodded and led the group up the stairs and into the rain.

* * * *

A metallic clatter emanated from up ahead. It sounded close. It didn’t really matter anymore whether it was smart indies or stupid ones making the noise. Either way, they were dead meat. BlexJasp was ready to kill them all or die trying.

“Let’s go! Double time!”

The nine of them took off running. Their headlamps jiggled as they ran, creating weird patterns of light and dark on the wall.

The soldiers rounded a curve and there they were. At least a dozen indies running toward the station exit and six pointing weapons at them.

“Drop!” he commanded. “Turn off your lights!”

He and his men all dove to the floor, mindless of the sharp jabs from the gravel.

“You three, shoot at the ones fleeing. The rest, shoot at the ones with weapons.”

They opened fire. Lying prone in the dark, they greatly reduced their exposure to return fire.

Two of those running for the exit fell, along with one of the shooters. Several bullets clanged off the rails to either side of the soldiers. One bullet deflected into the body armor of a soldier, doing no harm.

They kept firing, and three more of the damned indies dropped, before the others escaped. Then the shooters dropped back, still firing at BlexJasp and his men. One more indie fell. Another grabbed his shoulder. But they managed to get out with no more casualties.

Score: Still fifty-eight soldiers down, but now seven indies, too. That was getting to be more like it—and it would only get better once they caught up to the main pack.

“Let’s go!” BlexJasp shouted.

They all jumped up and sprinted for the station platform. There was more clanging up ahead.

One of the men rounded the nearest corner, gun pointing left and right, in case some of the indigenes were waiting in ambush. He signaled all clear. He and the rest turned the corner and started toward the stairs, only to encounter the padlocked gate.

BlexJasp gestured the others out of the way and then blasted the padlock. Once through, they all ran up the stairs, stopping just below the surface while one of the soldiers peered over the top.

He signaled all-clear and waved the others forward.

While they all stood on the sidewalk, in the driving rainstorm, BlexJasp peered left and right, looking for some sign of the indies.

Which way? Which way?

The rain had created an early twilight. The fact that some of the street lights were lit didn’t help at all. Nothing moved on the street, except for water.

“It looks like we do this the hard way, door to door. You four go left, the rest with me. Whoever spots any indies calls the other team immediately. We can’t let them get away, but don’t be reckless. Nine of us stand a better chance of taking them all out than only four or five of us.

“Keep your wits about you. If they’re indoors, they can see you, but you can’t see them. Shoot out the streetlights to make visibility harder for them. Go!”

* * * *

The forty-two remaining men, women, and children had split into three groups and hid in three adjacent townhouses. That gave them better odds for escaping should one of the houses be overrun. It also gave them three sets of windows to fire from, if it came to that.

Daniels and his team, along with ten others, waited inside the first unit. The four noncombatants waited in the bathroom off the hallway, hopefully out of harm’s way and ready for a quick exit, if needed. Of the ten with weapons, three waited facing the front door and windows downstairs, two behind the overturned table in the dining room off the kitchen, and three stood by the kitchen windows, in case of attack from the back yard. The other two were upstairs spying from the upper front and back windows. One of them was Jesse Jefferson, who’d been wounded in the firefight at the station. His left shoulder was injured, but at least he wasn’t bleeding much. The blast had cauterized the wound. He wouldn’t be able to hold a rifle, but he was just fine with a handgun or knife. The other was Jennie Josephs.

Daniels watched through the window as the aliens emerged from the train station and split into two groups, one heading toward them and the other away.

“Good. They split up. That improves our odds. If we can take out these four before the others realize what’s happening, so much the better.”

He walked back toward the stairs, so those upstairs and in the kitchen could hear what he had to say.