Orbs II: Stranded (23 page)

No, no
, she thought, shaking her head. It couldn’t be. But at that moment everything was finally clear. She was nothing more to the Organics than insects were to humans. She was simply a specimen for their collection.

A high-pitched shriek filled the chamber. Sophie reached for her ears as the noise intensified.

Not again. Please, not again
.

A tremor shook the ship violently, and several orbs fell off the walls and splattered into a gooey mess below.

Sophie grabbed the platform’s side as another vibration ripped through the ship. The noise intensified. This was some sort of alarm.

A tremor brought her crashing to the platform’s metal surface. Sophie cupped her ears just as another sound broke out. A familiar sound—a human sound.

Gunfire?

Another tremor shook the ship, and an explosion tore through the wall she was facing. Hundreds of orbs burst into a blue mist as fire enveloped them.

Sophie dropped to her stomach. The sensation of amity vanished, and she once again was paralyzed by fear. She could no longer feel the being’s presence.

The thunderous explosions continued. For the second time in a single day, she thought she was going to die—that her journey had finally come to an end. She had seen Mars, and she had seen the intelligent Organics. She was ready for it all to be over. Closing her eyes, she let the darkness wash over her before one last explosion tore through the ship’s belly.

CHAPTER 32

T
HE
right rotor of the
Sea Serpent
coughed thick plumes of black smoke. Captain Noble wasn’t sure how, but the pilot had managed to get them through the dust storm. The men owed Lenny and the pilot their lives, but for now they had bigger concerns.

Looking out the window, Noble saw another volley of rockets racing out of the tubes beneath the left wing. He watched them tear into the black ship’s sides. Fiery explosions erupted out of the sleek matte surface, prompting cheering from the soldiers.

Harrington unsnapped his belt and jumped to his feet. “Shut the hell up and prepare for insertion. Team go green. We drop in five!”

Harrington turned to Captain Noble. “Requesting permission to tag along, sir. I’m more effective on the ground than barking orders from the air.”

Noble thought about the request. Standard operating procedure was for Harrington to lead the battle from a mobile CIC, but this was no standard operation.

“Granted. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Roger, sir.”

One last barrage of rockets ripped into the side of the alien ship as it began to maneuver away from the lakebed.

The sound of explosions mixed with the groaning of the opening cargo door. Noble reached for his visor, shielding his eyes from the intense light. He could hear boots smacking the dry dirt below as the soldiers jumped out onto the lakebed. With one final deep breath, he
closed his eyes and jumped into the fray.

Sergeant Overton watched the last rocket from the NTC chopper tear into the side of the alien ship. He flinched every time one of them exploded. It was a beautiful sight. Finally he had his vengeance—finally the tide had turned.

The chopper lowered onto the cracked dirt of the lakebed, sending a plume of dust exploding into the air. Overton watched anxiously as the bay door opened and a dozen NTC Special Forces soldiers tore across the landscape.

“Bouma!” Overton yelled over the net.

“Here,” the marine responded. He was standing a few feet behind the sergeant with Jeff.

“Where’s Sophie?” Overton asked in a raspy voice.

“She’s unconscious, sir. Hit her head hard earlier. I rested her against the pole over there,” he said pointing.

Overton took a quick glance before moving toward the NTC soldiers who were now racing up the hill. While he ran, the injured alien ship blasted back into the sky, the shockwave sending a massive cloud of hot, dust-filled air through the lakebed.

“Run, you bastards!” he shouted, raising his fist into the air.

Before he had a chance to shield himself, the backdraft sent him tumbling head over feet. He landed on his back, sliding across the dirt before finally coming to a stop just inches from one of the glowing poles. A woman stared down at him with glazed eyes, her arm hanging loosely at her side from a gash that had nearly severed it. The exposed muscles were too much for even his hardened stomach to handle.

Behind him the NTC soldiers slowed to a trot and blossomed out to form a perimeter around the hillside. Two of them broke off from the pack and paced over to Overton and Bouma.

“I’m Captain Noble with the NTC submarine
Ghost of Atlantis
, and this is Sergeant Donald Harrington, NTC Special Forces,” the man on the left said. He slipped off his helmet and rested it on the ground.

Overton studied the man’s bald head and iron-colored beard. He
could tell just by looking at him that he wasn’t a soldier, but frankly, Overton didn’t care. If the man was the captain of an NTC sub, then he had traveled a long way to get here.

“It’s fucking great to see you guys,” Overton said, holding out an armored hand. “I’m Sergeant Ash Overton. That’s Corporal Chad Bouma and our friend Jeff,” he continued, pointing to the pair. “Doctor Sophie Winston from the Cheyenne Biosphere is back there. She needs immediate medical attention. I hope you have enough room in that chopper for survivors. We may be dealing with quite a few,” Overton finished, looking back at the poles.

Captain Noble scanned the rods rising above Overton’s head. “Harrington, I want half of your people searching for survivors. Position the other half along this ridgeline. I don’t want any surprises.”

“Roger that, sir,” Harrington said as he opened a private channel to his men. Six of them took off running before Captain Noble had a chance to give another order.

Noble turned to look at the helicopter. Thick spirals of smoke rose into the sky. “As you can see, our bird took quite a bit of damage on the way here. Requesting permission to regroup and perform maintenance at the Cheyenne Mountain Biosphere.”

Overton watched the man’s lips move but didn’t hear a single word he said. Across the lakebed, a carpet of blue was spreading across the landscape. The light shimmered for several seconds before breaking past the houses and spilling over the dry dirt. For a beat, Overton thought he was looking at a lake again.

The sound of screeching aliens reminded him he would never see another body of water again. Before he had a chance to react, the far end of the ridgeline was teeming with Spiders.

But how was this possible? The range of the RVAMP was supposed to have cleared every alien for fifteen square miles. There was no way they could have . . .

There was no time to question what had happened with the RVAMP, only to focus on how to get the hell out of the city.

“Sir, collect your men and any survivors and get back to your chopper ASAP. We need to get the fuck out of here!” screamed Overton.

Noble turned to see the first wave of Spiders explode around the houses. The monsters crashed into one another, limbs and claws flailing in all directions.

Noble quickly slipped his helmet on. “Harrington, get our men back to the chopper. Tell them to grab only the strongest survivors. Have the rest of your men form a perimeter. Do not let those things get close!”

“Roger,” Harrington replied over the net.

Overton watched the NTC soldiers fan out over the lakebed. He stepped back and, with a sudden anxiousness, turned to Bouma. “Grab Sophie and get her to the chopper. Jeff, you go with him.”

“What about you?” asked Bouma. His voice was strained, like he already knew the answer.

“I’m going to look for the rest of our squad. Now move it!” Overton said, his legs moving before he finished speaking. He sprinted past Sophie and made his way down the row of poles. Scanning each face quickly, he worked his way from pole to pole.

Pandemonium broke out as Overton entered the heart of the farm. The chirp of automatic pulse rounds, even at a distance, was deafening. He could picture the NTC soldiers unloading magazine after magazine into the approaching horde—he could imagine the overwhelming fear they would inevitably feel when their rounds bounced harmlessly off the aliens’ shields.

Shit
, he thought, remembering the electromagnetic pulse grenades. He brought his chin down to switch a private channel to Bouma. “Tell them to use ’nades.”

Static and gunfire overwhelmed Overton’s earpiece. The sound of war drowned out his voice. He tried again, “Bouma, do you read, over?”

“Yes . . . approaching chopper . . .” a distant-sounding voice responded.

“Tell them to use the electromagnetic grenades!” yelled Overton.

“Rog—” Bouma replied, his voice quickly cutting out.

Overton turned to look at the lakebed, but the forest of poles blocked his view. The intense blue glow that shrouded him made it difficult to see beyond a few yards. The longer he stood in one place,
the blurrier his vision became. Standing inside the farm was like being in an old-fashioned tanning bed. His eyes were beginning to burn from the intense light.

With a sequence of blinks, he activated the protective tint on his visor. When his eyes finally adjusted, he saw for the first time the size of the farm. A moan from overhead drew his attention. He looked up for the source of the noise, but only saw the distorted faces of the unconscious prisoners staring back at him. Were they in some sort of trance? It was hard to tell, and Overton was not a doctor. He pushed on, navigating the rows quickly.

Making his way deeper, he tried to count the poles but lost track. There were at least a hundred, this he knew, with about a dozen humans attached to each. With only two rows left to explore, he knew the chances of finding one of his men alive was slim. But he couldn’t stop now. Not when he was so close. He’d let so many of his fellow marines down in the past.

Determined, he pushed on and stopped at the bottom of another pole. He tilted his head upward, counting the bodies as his eyes quickly scanned their clothing.

One.

Five.

Nine.

He stopped at ten. His eyes fixated on the green camouflage fatigues of a gaunt figure halfway up the pole.

“Shit.” Whatever electrical current was gluing the survivors to the poles could probably capture him just as easily. Sophie had warned him of this. With no time to find an off switch, he was forced to improvise.

He grabbed a magazine one of the NTC soldiers had handed him earlier and jammed it home. Pointing the barrel at the bottom of the pole, he slowly pulled back on the trigger.

Wait
, he thought, tilting his helmet back up the pole. The marine was at least twenty-five feet up, so the fall alone could be fatal. Especially if he or she was already injured. There was no way of knowing exactly what condition the soldier was in.

Overton cursed and flared his nostrils.

More gunfire erupted in the distance. Two minutes had passed. He had less than that to get the marine down. The horde would be closing in on the chopper.

I can’t leave them.

He knew he had no other choice. Pointing his rifle at the bottom of the pole, he emptied his entire magazine into the alien architecture. A loud whine rumbled from under the dirt, and the glow of the pole pulsated several times before dying.

One by one, the prisoners slid down the pole. Overton tossed his rifle to the ground and rushed to help, but the bodies came crashing down too quickly. The sound of bones shattering echoed in his helmet, making him cringe. Seconds later, a pile of twisted people lay in a heap on the ground.

“No!” he screamed, digging through the bodies. More gunfire poured out in the background, followed by several concussions that sent tremors through the ground.

No time.

With all his strength, he jerked and pulled bodies off the pile, clawing desperately for the marine. He finally uncovered the green fatigues. He yanked another body off the top and gazed upon the marine’s face for the first time. The unfamiliar feeling of grief overwhelmed him. It was Lieutenant Allison Smith; the woman had been with his recon unit for five years.

Goddamn, it’s good to see her
, Overton thought. He paused to look Smith over. Her eyes were open but glassy. There was no immediate sign of consciousness. Overton struggled to pull the woman free from the others, watching her chest for signs of life. Slowly it rose and fell.

“Thank God,” Overton whispered. “You’re going to be okay, Smith. Just hang in there.” He tapped her face with an armored finger, and Smith let out a deep groan. A deep gurgling sound crackled in her throat. She’d more than likely suffered internal damage and some broken bones. Nothing they couldn’t patch up back at the med ward.

With one last ounce of strength, he hefted the injured marine over his shoulders and began trekking back through the forest of poles. He ignored the pleas from several of the civilians who had somehow
managed to wake up, their arms reaching toward him, begging for help. There was nothing he could do for any of them now.

By the time Overton got to the slope of the hill, the entire lakebed was filled with Spiders. He froze at the top of the bluff. With astonishment, he watched the creatures surround the chopper. The Spiders were desperate, sacrificing themselves by racing into the wave of pulse rounds. Inch by inch, the suicidal creatures crept closer to the helicopter.

The com came to life with Bouma’s voice. “Overton, where are you? We’re leaving!”

“On my way!” Overton replied. He cautiously made his way down the slope, careful not to lose his footing and accidentally drop his precious cargo. When he got to the lakebed, his legs began to resist. His body was giving up on him. With Smith’s weight on his shoulders, his knees were beginning to groan, and his shoulder wound was flaring up, sending sharp spikes of pain down his back.

Don’t give up. You’re so close
, he thought. A dash of adrenaline gave him an extra burst of energy. His footfalls were longer, his stride more efficient; he was going to make it.

And then he slid to a stop, nearly toppling Smith over his shoulders. Spiders were flanking the chopper on both sides. Several of the NTC soldiers were torn from the line. Claws ripped through their armor like it was plastic wrap.

Overton closed his eyes, flinching every time one of the Spiders sunk a claw into one of the terrified men. The line was beginning to break.

There were screams, shrieks, and more gunfire. The landscape was soaked with red and blue blood. It was hell. Overton had seen it before. And for the first time in his career, he wasn’t sure what to do. With an empty rifle and Smith on his back, all he could do was watch.

As the NTC line broke, soldiers retreated toward the chopper. Bursts from NTC plasma rifles sent the Spiders tumbling across the dirt. But there were too many of them, and they were suicidal with hunger.

Overhead, the blades thumped through the stale air, sending clouds of dust into the sky. Overton watched the last two soldiers jump into the cargo bay as the chopper began to rise from the ground. He was too
late—he was cut off.

He turned to look back up at the poles. He could try and escape, but only if he left Smith. And that wasn’t an option.

“Wait!” a voice yelled over the net. “Overton is still out there!”

Overton pushed Smith farther up onto his shoulders; they weren’t going to make it. He had to find another escape route. “You have to leave without us!”

Static broke back over the net as the chopper rose farther into the air. A thick plume of smoke flowed out of one of the rotors. Before he had a chance to turn and run, a soldier appeared on a minigun angled off the helicopter’s side. Several small objects flew out of the open door and landed in the mass of Spiders below. At first Overton couldn’t make them out, but the sound of their deafening explosions quickly made him smile. The NTC soldiers were trying to save him.