Invasion (The Alien Wars #1)
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Authors: Paul Moxham
INVASION
The Alien Wars – Book 1
By Paul
Moxham
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Copyright 2016 Paul
Moxham
Version Updated:
All rights reserved, without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means
without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE ALIEN WARS
This science fiction series will tug at the heartstrings of anyone who likes a thrilling adventure about everyday people trying to survive amid the horrors of a post-apocalyptic world.
~*~*~
Table of Contents
Buena Vista
,
VA
,
USA
,
To the residents of
Buena Vista
, Frank Swallow looked no different from the other soldiers who had returned from
Europe
with lost limbs. However, he had a secret, one that not even those closest to him knew. Not his parents, nor his best friend, and not even his wife knew the alternate life he led.
All she knew, and what everyone else knew, of those three years that he’d been away in
Europe
was what he had written in his letters.
The tragic times, the terrible conditions, the loss of his friends, and the incident.
The incident that had cost him the use of his right arm.
All those things flooded his mind as he left the cottage and walked down the country road. As he caught sight of a youngish, blonde-haired woman pushing a stroller, he wasn’t surprised when she stopped and looked at him. “Hey, are you Mr. Swallow?”
As the man nodded, Sandra resumed speaking. “Sandra told me about your ordeal. I just want to say I’m sorry. I balled my eyes out when I heard about your arm.”
Frank flicked a glance at where his right arm should have been, which was now just a stump, and nodded. “Well, it was painful, but now I don’t feel a thing.”
The woman took a moment to gaze at her baby girl in the stroller. “It’s still so... I mean, when I heard the news that my husband was coming
back,
I was so excited, especially since he had to leave just after I got pregnant. Now, I know it might be different for you, since you and Sandra were only dating when you left, but I wonder...” She cocked her head and bit her lip.
“Wonder what?”
“You know, ah, John lost his left leg, which is getting him shipped back home, but I’m worried that he’ll be, I don’t know, different when he comes back.”
Frank puffed out his cheeks and started to scratch a phantom itch on his missing arm. “Yes, he will.”
As the woman’s face cycled between shocked and terrified, Frank put his remaining hand on her shoulder. “Better you know now than find out the hard way. Look, I don’t want to frighten you, but he will be different and life will never be the same. Fighting and killing changes everyone, especially if you lose a limb. I can’t say I know exactly what he’ll be going through, but I have a good idea. The one thing I suggest is just make him feel needed. If he’s just lying in bed all day without anything to do, he’ll go crazy. Don’t treat him any different than when he left. There’s plenty of stuff he can do while sitting down. Just give him the same kindness and support you gave him before he left and love will take care of the rest.”
The woman fought back the mist welling in her eyes. “I suppose that makes sense. Oh, and congratulations. Sandra told me your baby boy is turning one later this month.”
Frank grinned. “Thanks.
Yeah, on the twelve of June.
In fact, I’m just on my way to meet them in town, so if you don’t mind—”
“No, no, of course not.
Take care.” The young woman gave a wave and walked away, much faster than before.
Frank’s gaze stayed on the retreating figure. Just like everyone else whom he had told, she would never know the truth about his arm.
Which was for the best.
Even if he hadn’t signed those stringent non-disclosure forms with the government, he wasn’t sure how many people would believe him anyway.
If he had told her that
Adolf
Hitler had been the one who ordered his right arm to be amputated and that a being from outer space was the one to do the job, would anyone ever talk to him again?
After all, he was just a regular
schmock
in his freshman year of college when he enlisted in the United States Army Air Force. Or joining the great battle between good versus evil, as that slick recruiter put it. He thought he was clever, joining a cushy support service before they could draft him into the infantry. Yet again, the Army got one over on him. At five foot five with a slim figure, he barely met the physical requirements before being rushed through a few weeks of the new, ultra-streamlined wartime basic training. They shipped him off to
North Africa
before his boots were even broken in. The first few months had been horrible, absolutely brutal. Everyone who had taken a look at his letters to his parents cried their eyes out. The sad thing was, he actually censored out the worst horrors and only passed along the funny stories. Of course, a combat vet’s sense of
humor
in the trenches was a bit different from those of civilians living in the lap of luxury back home.
He did write about praying daily, hoping that someone, somewhere would take notice. Though his buddies made fun of him whenever they caught him praying, he was confident that deep down they all wanted to believe in a higher power. It wasn’t as though Frank believed in the Bible completely, but he did believe that there were many unanswered questions about the universe and he refused to accept that they were alone.
Made sense, since it was pretty damn clear that they were not alone.
The most disappointing thing was that instead of people focusing their talents on space exploration, they were inventing new weapons to kill people. Why couldn’t everyone just live in peace?
As he walked down the road, his thoughts drifted to his family. Not even Sandra knew of the double life he led. He prayed again that she’d never find out what he had been up to these last two years.
It all started when his fighter crashed in
Algeria
after being separated from the rest of his squadron during a dust storm. The pilot was killed instantly, but by some twisted miracle, as the rear facing gunner, he survived with little more than bruises and some light burns. He hadn’t been too despondent though, since they landed near an oasis.
Could have been much worse.
He stayed there for the first couple of days, barely surviving on dates and water.
However, when no one from his squadron showed up, he had to consider his options. Deciding that he would start walking the following day, he watched the sun sink below the horizon. He was just getting himself comfortable for the long night ahead, when a dark shape broke through the cloud cover and descended toward the ground.
As he gazed out at the desert, he saw the biggest aircraft he had ever seen in his entire life.
One without a single propeller.
It was massive. No words could describe how imposing it looked in the setting sun.
Suddenly, a small craft flew out of the belly of the
mothership
and headed toward the oasis. As he realized that it was going to land, he hurried to the outcrop of rocks that bordered the southern part of the oasis.
For the next hour or so, he stared on in disbelief as hordes of men dug beside the rocks, creating a massive hole. Overcome by an irrational but desperate need to get a little bit closer, he crept along the rocks. He didn’t get far before his feet suddenly slipped.
As rocks rained down upon the ground, shots were fired. He fled into the darkness but was quickly caught. The soldiers dragged him to some tent set up near the excavation site. His heart skipped a couple dozen beats when they pushed him inside.
On one side of a map table lounged the strangest, yet most familiar figure.
Adolf
Hitler curled his pencil
mustache
in his direction, but never stopped chatting with some kind of mechanical man next to him. What did those trashy pulp magazines call ‘
em
?
Robots?
He got a better look at the blood-red eyes behind the steel mask as the guard prodded him closer with the tip of his bayonet. In all those weird fantastic fiction books, didn’t these
robo
creatures always come from another planet?
Frank could only burst out laughing. The weight of dread lifted from his soul. Obviously, he hadn’t survived the crash. The oasis must have been that purgatory deal the Catholics were always going on about. Judging from his new roommates, he sure as hell wasn’t in heaven.
He reached for a camp stool and kept grinning. “Well this isn’t so bad. Looks like more fun than purgatory. So when’s Cleopatra getting here?”
His giggling faded when the guard
buttstroked
him in the spine and bounced his nose off the ground. The soldier stared straight ahead, with one jackboot on Frank’s neck, while reporting to his
Führer
in German. Hitler gave the young
stormtrooper
a rare smile and lopsided salute, but still kept gossiping with the alien thing, all while Frank was dragged outside for a far less friendly chat with some beefy Bavarian boys.
Even through the beatings, Frank still couldn’t help but chuckle in his lucid moments. Not once did they ask about his unit or even a damn question about the war. Always the same
jibber jabber
about other worldly people. What the heck was a spaceship, anyways?
Frank spit out a loose tooth and gave a dry chuckle. “Hans, for the millionth time, I’m not holding out on you. I don’t know what you Hun bastards are talking about. Just tell me what one of these ships looks like and I’ll tell your boss that I saw a hundred of ‘
em
.
Whatever you want.”
One of the interrogators raised his steel baton again, but the tent flap opened up. A high-pitched “Nein!” made the SS man drop his paddle and stick up his right arm. Hitler ignored the soldier and just clapped the robot’s
armored
back. The metallic creature trumped over to Frank in a blur.
In one smooth motion, it unsheathed a sword and slashed through Frank’s right shoulder. He could have sworn there was a glint of a smile on that steel face in the lamplight.
Frank had no idea what happened next, because he collapsed from the loss of blood. When he opened his eyes again, hours or years later, he was lying in some spotlessly clean bed. He shook the heavily bandaged stump on his right arm until the sight of it made him sick. Clambering out of bed, he stumbled to the window and threw it open for fresh air.
As he saw the Big Ben and Westminster Abbey landmarks outside, his heart couldn’t take the roller coaster anymore. As his body hit the floor, a doctor and a nurse rushed in and helped him back to bed.
Over the next few days, he met with several high-ranking officials in the British and American armies. He learned that a dozen aliens, who were working with the Allies, along with several British soldiers, had rescued him from the oasis over a week ago. It took much longer for them to convince him that he hadn’t lost his mind.
Once he agreed to help the officials, he was sent back to the States, where he had a secret meeting with President Roosevelt. And within a matter of days, he was helping the war effort in a rather unique way.
He came back to reality at the sight of Sandra standing by the cafe door, holding Arthur in her arms. He smiled from ear to ear. Aliens or no aliens, he was going to spend time with his beautiful wife.
It wasn’t until night had fallen and he and Sandra were tucked into bed that his mind drifted back to those damn aliens. Tonight was a most critical night. If there was ever a time that he couldn’t afford to miss an appointment, it was tonight. What was going to happen tomorrow would be crucial to the allied war effort and he couldn’t let his country down.
He counted the minutes as they passed. As it neared
, he inched his way out of bed. While leaving for his very first meeting over a year ago, he had woken his wife, but now, this being his seventh meeting, he had enough practice that he never made a sound.
His bare feet strode across the carpet, and he slipped through the bedroom door, which was partly open. It was a tight squeeze, but one that was necessary. He found that even if he oiled the hinges, the door always made some kind of noise. So on nights like this, he was always the last to come to bed, making sure not to shut the door.
As much as he loved Arthur, the chance that the baby boy could start crying at any minute worried him. That’s why his meetings in recent months had been fewer. But tonight was critical.
Absolutely critical.
He hurried along the hallway until he reached his study. He walked over to the bookcase and pulled out the Bible. Behind it was a key. Picking it up, he hurried over to his desk and unlocked the last drawer. Inside was a simple medium-sized envelope. It was sealed.
