Conquest ~ Indian Hill 3 ~ A Michael Talbot Adventure (28 page)

As one they answered. Some more vehemently than others. “Yes
,
sir
!”
t
he cry rang off the walls.

“Good
,
this is just a simple extraction, if however something should go wrong, do not, I repeat do not come back here. Is that understood?” Paul
looked
at each and e
very man to make sure this was clear. “Head back to the pump house and stay low until someone comes to get you. There’s at least a week’s worth of water
and
MREs
.”
There
was a soft moan from the men. Paul knew their pain,
MREs
could sustain life but that was about it as far as taste went. Paul clapped Frank on the shoulder, “All right, let’s move
.
W
e’ve got a hero to go and save.”

The men moved silently through the exit
.
A
ll of the parts on their gear that could make even the slightest whisper had long ago been taped up with electrical
adhesive
.

***

I
slipped through the storm drain that went completely under
Main Street
, careful to make sure the bag
I
carried didn’t get wet, not that it would have mattered, but it seemed
like
the right thing
to do at the time. The rage that had flowed through
my veins and sent me
on this mission began to ebb ever so slightly to the point where
I
asked
my
self what the fuck
I
was
d
oing.
“Well,
too late now
,”
I answered. “I must be losing
it, I’m starting to answer the voices in my head
."

The going was
difficult through the flow pipe.
I
t didn’t measure more than
three
feet across and even that estimate was a gracious one considering all the debris that
had accumulated
over the years. And the smell
of death
was not something I had been prepared for,
even though
I had smelled it enough over the last two years to become more than acquainted with that acrid metallic odor. The pipe wasn’t pitch black
,
but it was
getting
close.
T
he thought of
smacking into
a body right now was not on my top ten list of things to do. Although I had more to worry about from the living than the dead. The smell increased the
farther
I
crawled in until I knew without a doubt
—
like a great horror novel
—
the dead lay smack dab in the middle where the least amount of light was. I pulled my shirt up over my nose in a vain attempt to block out the worst of
it
.
I
t didn’t work. Claustrophobia, not my worst phobia but it was steadily climbing up the ladder as a panic began to well up from depths unknown. To make matters worse
,
dust and
debris began to rain down on me
as the ground above the pipe began to vibrate.

Earthquake
in Walpole?
It was long moments before I realized it was heavy troop transports traveling
on
the road I was under
neath
. Was the body a sign
?
W
as it a hint from a merciful God to stop now and turn back?

No! God isn’t merciful and he’s not vengeful, he’s worse, muc
h much worse, he's apathetic.
K
icked back
like a fat man
drinking a beer
on a Sunday afternoon
, feet propped up and watching the games begin
.
T
hat wasn’t fair
though
,
at least not entirely, I had looke
d to God more than once during my
ordeal and like a crutch he had on
more than one occasion propped me up. God hates whiners, he helps those who help themselves
.
I believed
that
wholly.

I moved forward with a new determination
,
just as my hand sunk up to the elbow in what I was one hundred percent sure wasn’t a two foot deep pool of jelly
,
more  like
jellified human remains
. I gagged on small pieces of
my lunch as it made a return visit
.
I pulled my arm back through the cavity
.
I had just punctured through something’s soft innards. With an audible plop my hand came free. I wrestled for a long time with a scream caught in my throat, the realization that my voice would come through on the other side like a megaphone, and any shot
taken
down
th
e
pipe would almost certainly hit me, unless I dove for cover and that pretty much meant diving on the body.

“
Yeah that’s no good
,”
I said softly. With my stomach under some semblance of control I pushed
i
t as far away from me as I could and did my best to put as much distance between me and it as was possible.

“Oh
,
fuck!” I yelled as I felt something pull on my
belt.
Visions of a demonic clown rising up and biting out my
throat spurred me on. But the hand on my belt wasn’t letting go. I expected the other hand to wrap
its
cold jelly laced fingers around my throat, my vision began to pinpoint. I had to get that hand off my belt
,
it was dragging me down, both literally and figuratively. I began to thrash and kick at the entity but my foot couldn’t find any solid purchase, like a gelatinous mass
,
my foot would only sink in and come back out followed by the putrid stench of the decayed. I hoped beyond hope
that one
of my kicks didn’t end up in the creatures mouth I kept kicking. Nothing happened, nothing got bitten off, nothing came any closer, and nothing let go of my
belt.

Reason tried desperately to reassert itself. Fouled water and sweat covered me from hea
d to toe. The adrenaline shakes
wracked my body. I pushed through some damned up branches but still
the dead clung as if holding on
to me would bring them back to life. Panic would not allow me the fortitude to turn and face my adversary, flight was my only choice but no matter the advances I made it stayed one step behind. Unconsciousness would have been welcome and it was a very viable option as my heart labored under the stress. I had to take my chances with what was behind me if I ever wanted to take my chances with what was in front of me. I turned my head to the left to see what it was that I would have to pry from my
belt
.
Stark
,
bony fingers had latched on to my knife, panic welled, not only was it trying to kill me
,
but it was going to use my own knife!
I was r
epulsed at the thought of touching the fingers, instinct won over, I grabbed the
m anyway
.
They
weren’t hard, in fact they were soft like cloth
.
The pinpricking of my vision began to subside, my hammering heart
slowed
something closer to a hamster rather than a humming bird. A small jewel dangled from the rope lo
o
ped around my knife sheath. I pulled up to unloop the tangle and up from under the putrid water the head of an enormous dog popped up, sprawling me on my back. The eyeless muzzle stared at me without an ounce of malice in it.
I
t was
only
a dog that had been long dead and entombed in this underwater grave. I wanted to vomit but the thought of my undigested
lunch
floating around
with me repulsed me more than the half decayed dog ever could. I pulled his collar over my knife sheath and pushed him
away as far as possible.

“
So much for keeping the satchel dry
,”
I mumbled. The
G
enogerians would have to go a long way to make me more scared than I had just been. It was possible, I admitted
,
but I didn’t think I would have enough reserves in the adrenaline tank
for it to happen
. I was feeling washed out, the dog had literally taken a lot of fight out of me, but I sure as shit wasn
’
t going back that
way. ‘Onward
Christian Soldier,
’ I
began humming
.

***

Tracy awoke with a start, her soldier instincts telling her instantly something was wrong.

“Where’s Mike
?” she asked
Flaherty, the sentry on duty.

“He went to relieve himself
,
Lie
u
tenant
,” he answered
,
never taking his gaze off the enemy encampment. Tracy couldn’t determine if it was because he was being diligent or he couldn’t actually believe what he was seeing like
rubbernecking
a roadside
crash
on a clogged highway.

“How long ago was that
?” she asked
, trying to keep calm even as she knew she had reason for apprehension.

“I’m…
I’m not sure?” Flaherty said
,
finally pulling his eyes off the enem
y encampment.

“What do you mean you’re not so sure
,
Corporal
?
” Tracy flared
,
making sure
he
knew who
he was talking to.

“Uh
,
L
ieutenant, it didn’t seem like that long ago
,
but now that I’m thinking about it
,
it’s been about fifteen minutes.”

“Get the men up!” Tracy ordered. “And give me those binoculars before you go. I’ll deal with you later.”

Flaherty swallowed hard. He knew
Lieutenant Yarborough
.
S
he could be much more formidable than anything the aliens thr
ew
at them. “Yes
,
ma
’
am
,” he said
hastily
,
retreating
to where the rest of the squad had gone to get some rest.

Tra
cy scanned every possible entry
way
in
to the enemy stronghold and almost missed him as he climbed up a small embankment and into a small copse of woods not twenty feet from the nearest alien sentry.
S
he noticed also with increasing alarm that he hadn’t come out of the ditch and into the trees completely unnoticed. The alien commander was even now grabbing some of his guards and directing them
toward
where Mike had stopped. He had his back up against a tree
,
not facing the parking lot, completely unaware
of
his impending doom. He seemed to be doing something in his lap
,
but her view was cut
off by
a small mulberry bush.

“
This is no time to be messing with your fly
.
G
et up
,
”
s
he hissed through her teeth. Dozens of more enemy troops were patrolling all around the parking lot
.
If she laid down cover
fire
she thought she could wipe out half of them before they
realized
what was happening
. She watched Mike as he stood up, the guards had closed to ten feet and still he seemed oblivious. Weapons raised, the element of surprise and superior numbers and still they approached
hesitantly
.

“At least the bastards are scared of us
,”
Tracy voiced, but that would be small
solace if she were to watch the man she thought she was falling in love with die in the next few moments.
S
he watched Mike swivel away from the tree, his arm moving upward in an arc, surprise etched
in
his features as he realized how close the enemy had got to him.