Out of the Black (Odyssey One, Book 4) (22 page)

And then the sky fell in and his city was facing an alien invasion from space.

Teach me to offer up a challenge like that
. The forty-year veteran grumbled as he emptied his personal weapon into the big walking spider that was in the process of
eating
a squad car outside his precinct.

His six millimeter wasn’t having much effect, unfortunately, so he had to assume that the thing was better armored than your average punk in New York. That didn’t take a whole lot, however, so he was at a loss as to what he should be doing.

“Rick!”

Miradi glanced over, recognizing the man scrambling in his direction.

“Hey Paul, little busy now. Unless you’ve got something with better kick than a service pistol, of course,” he said dryly as he changed mags.

“Shotgun with slugs just piss these bastards off,” Paul Reerson yelled, his back to the car Rick was covering behind.

“Better than this. I don’t think that bastard has even
noticed
me!” Rick Miradi said in disgust.

“Trust me, Rick, I saw what these things can do. You don’t
want
them to notice you,” Paul told him between panting breaths. “They’ve got MilSpec lasers or something, I’ve never seen anything like it. Cut right through a SWAT van like butter, Rick. You get their attention, you’re a dead man.”

Miradi holstered his pistol. “So what? We watch them take apart the city, piece by piece?”

“Got word out. Some boys are out trying to clear cars off the expressway.”

“For what? There’s nobody driving now anyway.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “You need to turn on your radio, Rick. National Guard is trying to get into the city, but all the damn roadways are blocked. They’ve moving tanks in.”

“
Tanks??
” Rick gurgled, shocked. “Those things will do more damage than the giant spiders!”

“Jesus, Rick. Haven’t you heard? Someone already set off a nuke or something in Central Park, and they’ve been dropping heavy ordnance all across the city for the last hour! Pay attention!”

“I’ve been
busy!
”

He’d lost five men since the whole damn mess started, and sure as hell didn’t have time to worry about the rest of the city just then. His own were in trouble, and they came first.

He finally sighed, however, and shook his head. “What do they want us to do?”

“That’s just it. We don’t know. The Guard seems as confused as anyone, and they’re not having the best of luck with these things either,” John muttered. “Better than us, of course. Tanks can kill these things, but in a city those old tanks are sitting ducks for these things.”

“Great.”

“We’ve got some SWAT guys with heavier weapons running security at St. Barnabas. Thousands of people have moved in that direction, but those things are going to hit there within six hours at the rate they’re moving. When they do . . .” John shook his head. “There’s no way the cordon can hold back more than a couple of them, even with the big rifles they’ve got. We need to help the Guard get that deep into the borough, or we’re going to lose a lot more lives.”

“Fine.” Rick nodded. “Let’s go.”

He let out a piercing whistle, getting the attention of the rest of the men with him, and waved them out. They all began to move back from the fighting, continuing to be ignored in large part by the giant spiders.

Downright insulting is what this is
.

They were half a block away when his radio chirped in his ear. Rick touched the device, opening the channel. “Miradi.”

“Rick, it’s Lyssa. I have something you’re going to want to see.”

ST. BARNABAS HOSPITAL, BRONX

COMMANDER IAN GRANGER glared out over the streets below him as he lay across the rooftop of the hospital. Thousands of people had flooded the area, most directed to the hospital by other officers when they were found stranded on the roads.

A civilian Bell 2900 chopper was picking people up fifteen at a shot, getting them out of the city, but that was like emptying the ocean with a teaspoon. The whole city was screaming for airlift, and there weren’t enough birds in the world to do the job. So that left at least twenty or thirty thousand people here, right in the open.

When those things make it this far, it’ll be a slaughter
.

“Commander?”

“What is it?” Granger didn’t even glance back. He was still sighting in the Hecate he had against known-distance targets. It would make things faster when the fighting started.

“We have an officer on the link, calling in a Code Ninety.”

Granger snorted. “This whole city is a Code Ninety today.”

Code Ninety was used as a terror alert, indicating that a citywide disaster was imminent. It required all available officers to drop anything they were doing and report for orders.

“Yes sir. It’s just, she’s pretty damned insistent.”

“Fine, put her through to my channel,” Granger said.

“Patching over now.”

Granger waited a second before he heard a voice crackle to life on his earbud, a woman’s voice he didn’t recognize.

“Say again, this is Officer Lyssa Myriano, badge number Nine Five Seven Three. I am calling in a Code Ninety. We’re Ferry Point Part and . . .”

“Officer Myriano,” Granger cut in, her dossier lighting up his Augmented Reality HUD, “you’re distracting my men, and you do not have the authority to issue a Code Ninety. I’m sure whatever you’re seeing seems real important to you, but we’re all well aware of the situation and we’re busy dealing with it where we are.”

“No,
you
don’t understand, sir.” Her voice came back, cutting him off. “Whatever you’re dealing with, it can wait.”

“Look,
officer
,” Granger growled, more than a little sick of a beat cop telling him what could and could not wait, “I’ll be the judge of . . .”

“What’s your name, soldier?”

The voice on the line was
not
Officer Myriano, and that gave Granger pause for a moment. The tone stopped him even longer, something he’d last heard when he was in the war, though he didn’t recognize the voice itself.

“Who is this?” Granger demanded, a tone of caution in his own voice.

“Captain Eric Stanton Weston, Confederate Marine Corps. I say again, what’s your name, soldier?”

“Ian Granger. Look, Captain, I don’t know what you’re up to but I’ve got better than twenty thousand people here to protect. I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

“Granger, let me put to you this way . . . I’m sitting on about a hundred and twenty tons of military grade hardware and firepower. First come, first served.”

The channel went dead a moment later, leaving Granger gaping in shock.

“Sir?”

Granger stood up from his sniper position, eyes sweeping the skies. “When is that chopper due back?”

The NYPD had taken the brunt of the early fighting, losing dozens of men and women, quite possibly hundreds in the initial battles as they threw themselves into the fray the same way they would against any terrorist or violent offender. Unfortunately for them, they were facing no offender like they had ever dealt with in the past, and despite several heroic charges and stands, the dead showed little for their sacrifice aside from a handful of grateful citizens.

Those who survived learned the hard way that their sidearms, even their small artillery pieces, were of no value against the invaders tearing the city down piece by piece.

So it was that when the call went out, talking about military hardware available for the taking, it spread fast through the police channels. In a very short time a veritable tide of blue was sweeping through the city toward Ferry Point Park, confusing everyone who saw them pass.