Planet Genocide I (Galaxies Collide Book 3) (4 page)

Venice Beach was busy, the warm sun streaming down onto golden sands as joggers and dog walkers filled the pavement alongside the beach. Weight lifters flexed and groaned as they worked on the many fitness benches, their muscled and buffed bodies glistening in sweat as the temperature began to rise, another hot afternoon approaching.

Bronzed surfers jumped onto their boards, paddling out into the sparkling water to then slowly turn, riding the crashing waves as the current drove forwards towards the beach. Sailboards and paragliders swept along the blue-green sparkling water further from the golden sands, the wet suited riders occasionally glancing out at the few sailboats and small motorboats in the deeper water. 

Brad Zeiss stared out over the ocean from his vantage point atop the Life Guard tower walkway, his fingers intertwined together across the front of his knees as he sat in the glaring sun. The wooden structure was positioned for a maximum view over the beach, the tanned, mixed race, twenty-three-year-old loving this particular watch tower for its views across the rising hills to the north and exclusive properties lining the sands.

With tightly curled black hair and dark brown eyes, Brad was popular amongst the females on the beach…and even some of the males. His muscled frame and cheeky grin enticing many a proposition, including several, much to his amazement, for inside the watchtower whilst he was working. Always shaking his head and smiling appealingly, he would turn down the opportunities of sexual or physical contact, politely advising he could not oblige, his faith preventing such involvement. The rejected potential partners would either laugh with embarrassment, attempt to persuade him further or insinuate he was gay…he would simply smile back appealingly and shrug, staring back over the ocean until the opportunist had walked away in defeat.

He breathed deeply, closing his eyes in relaxation as he felt the hot sun’s rays across his back and torso, his red shorts shielding his upper legs. Some of the lifeguards just wore swimming trunks, but he believed this was disrespectful to the role and made them difficult to spot amongst the sunbathers. He therefore opted for the standard shorts, much to the amusement of some of his colleagues.

Slowly removing the sunglasses with his right hand, he lay back onto the warm wood, feeling the sand stick to the perspiration on his back as he did so, the radio crackling next to him, his supervisors distinctive grinning voice burbling over the airwaves, ‘You can’t see them in trouble if you fall asleep…stop sunbathing dude!’

Brad pushed his body upwards, grinning broadly as he waved nonchalantly in defeat, realising the woman was watching him through high powered binoculars again. Snatching the radio from the deck, he pressed the side button, ‘I was checking for any paragliders in trouble!’

The female voice giggled over the airwaves, her tone sarcastic, ‘That’s very alert of you…and shows you were ‘supervising’ a three hundred and sixty-degree safety area…very professional, but we are only paid to check on the water, hence the training and viewing platform that faces the ocean…’

The tanned lifeguard smiled widely in defeat, shrugging towards where he thought his supervisor was situated, his voice contorted into an accent, ‘Ok boss woman…I no slack…I work hard for job now!’

The female voice continued, ‘Do a visual of the water for me please…some of the…’ Static filled the radio speaker, Brad wincing and spinning the volume button down as he stared down at the set. The static continued as he lowered the radio to the deck, pushing himself upwards and retrieving the nearby pair of binoculars.

Raising the glasses, he strained his eyes against the glare and stared through the lenses over the sparkling water, the sun seeming to dance across its surface. Slowly scanning the heads of swimmers initially, he instinctively crossed over the area of responsibility for the adjacent towers along the sands, a behaviour of his own making to ensure nothing was missed.

Moving the binoculars to further out, he gradually scanned back, checking the surfers and swimmers that had ventured further from the beach, ensuring they were not in difficulty and were potentially fit enough to withstand the underwater currents. Next, he moved the glasses to the sailboards, glancing across the multi coloured sails and wetsuits and studying the physical frames, ensuring none seemed to be struggling against the tide.

Lowering the binoculars, he stared out across the waves, the sun sparkling against the crests invitingly as he felt the rays seeming to intensify. The radio static buzzed nearby as he shook his head, nodding a greeting to two passing girls in bikinis as they smiled at him. Seeing several sailboats far out from the beach, he raised the high powered glasses again, moving them to stare at the furthest boat to the right.

The pleasure sail craft bobbed on the waves, a middle aged man sipping from a bottle of beer on the deck as his fishing rods hung over the sides. The next boat was more streamlined, its expensive hull furnished with decorative emblems and designs, the vessel longer. He grinned as he glimpsed the two bikinied girls on the rear deck, sipping from champagne flutes and laughing with each other, another swimming in the water below with a bearded man.

Moving the glasses to the next craft, he stared longingly at the sleek vessel, an expensive boat probably from one of the marinas nearby, the elderly man and his wife chatting near the front rail and raising a glass of wine in a toast. He smiled fondly, imagining their wedding anniversary of potentially twenty-five or thirty years…perhaps even longer.

Moving further right, he glimpsed the black motor cruiser, then blinked, a jolt of static shooting up his spine as he spun the binoculars back, his breath held. He moved the glasses back and forth, then stopped suddenly, sucking deeply as he stared at the water beyond the two previous pleasure craft.

He blinked, lowering the binoculars and shaking his head in disbelief before raising them again and staring out mesmerised as he faintly heard girls’ laughter nearby, the two slim females returning to speak to the handsome lifeguard.

Spinning the zoom, the image moved closer as he squinted in awe. The water was bubbling as if boiling, steam beginning to rise from the surface as he stared breathlessly, his heart beginning to pound. His mind was spinning, considering how to warn the boats…of even how to contact anyone with the radio not working properly. Unable to decide or even contemplate further, he simply stared almost transfixed at the sight, the energy surging through him as he saw other areas across the surface bubbling, more steam rising further back, the water vapour beginning to surge upwards in volume.

He stepped back nervously, seeing the surface break slightly, the black smooth object seeming to sit just beneath the water, the sight gradually repeated across numerous other bubbling spots.

The two girls called out from below the viewing platform, staring longingly up at the muscular physique looking through the binoculars, the figure taking another step back as his body seemed to tense.

Brad’s breathing was becoming erratic as the waves rose and fell around the black shapes, then his lips curled in fear, the first silhouette rising slowly from the waves, the smooth surface expanding outwards as water evaporated or cascaded from the sloped sides. Lights shone upwards, more steam and smoke as electrical static surged across the water, the object rising faster as others around it emerged from the ocean.

The lifeguard stared in absolute terror as the craft fully emerged from the waves, the black fighter followed by more and more sleek vessels as he stepped backwards once more, his back touching the cabin set atop the viewing platform, the girls calling up once more to the good looking guard, his muscles rippling in fear as he stood panting, almost gasping for breath.

His body jolted into action, his hand tossing the binoculars away as he turned, jumping from the platform and running back up the beach as fast as he could. The girls stood staring after him, hearing a muffled shout of ‘Run!’ as Brad sprinted as fast as he could towards the waterfront bars and walkway.

Then the screams began to echo along the beach, arms rising to point as over fifty black craft swept forward towards the city of Los Angeles, pleasure boats capsizing, sailboards and paragliders being incinerated in their engines wake as the water boiled.

The tranquil world Brad Zeiss had known and loved was gone…

The wind whistled across the waterfront, the few people out in the rain bracing themselves against the cold gusts sweeping in from the Atlantic Ocean. The heavily misted dark grey sky looked menacingly down on the city in the poor light, the storm winds pushing the clouds rapidly overhead.

Police Officer Davis Michaels sat in the passenger seat of the police cruiser, his face wincing as static soared across the radio set, the speaker’s shrill beeping continuous as the electronics attempted to reconnect with the main signal. At twenty-nine with nine years’ service in the New York Police Department, he relished the job, the human interaction and adrenalin surges as he and his colleagues scoured the city for crime and potential problems.

Davis sometimes longed for the historical city of the early 1980s, the metropolis in the virtual grip of organised crime as the police chased across the city in a losing battle to sustain control. He smiled faintly as he recalled reading of the introduction of the Comprehensive Crime Control Act in 1984, the police or authorities then being able to seize funds from organised crime…the resurgence of law and order in a city then nearly out of control.

The rain splattered against the windscreen, rolling down the glass in continuous streams as he stared out over Brooklyn Bridge to his left, the cars flashing past in either direction on FDR Drive as horns blared out. To his right and in the distance lay Governors Island, the outline just visible through the murky rain filled air.

Shifting in his leather seat, he adjusted his dark uniform, glad he had not been the one to venture out for their afternoon coffee in the miserable weather. Davis glanced round, squinting through the driving rain for his returning colleague with the refreshments and hoping the policeman had brought a snack, his stomach beginning to rumble.

He grinned to himself as he saw the hunched figure jogging back towards the vehicle, his colleague grasping two covered take away cups and a bag between his teeth as the rain pelted against his darkened uniform. As the figure hesitated to let a car pass, Davis’s eyes drifted back towards Brooklyn, his thoughts drifting to his mother and fiancé, the two spending the day together probably cooking for a later family gathering. He licked his lips, considering what food would be available later that evening, his mother’s Jamaican influence mixed with his sweetheart’s Italian food…a culinary match made in heaven for any man, he mused to himself as his mouth began to water.

The static surged again, a garbled voice breaking through for a second, ‘All units…’ Davis leant forward, clicking his microphone and playing with the push buttons next to the visual display screen, the image shuddering and frustratingly not having changed for the last ten minutes. He clicked his shoulder radio in a vain hope to contacting the precinct, ‘451 Responding, repeat message…’ He sighed as the static roared again, unable to distinguish if any words were spoken.

The driver’s door swung open, startling him as a cup was thrust across the front seat, the gruff voice of his partner filling the car as rainwater fell from his sleeve and black leather gloves, ‘Take the damn thing! Jeez…I am soaked Bud!’

Davis grabbed the polystyrene cup gratefully, his partner pushing his soaked uniform into the car as he shook his head, slamming the door, ‘Your turn next time…any luck on the radio or phones yet?’ He indicated to the flickering screen grumpily, shaking the water from his gloves, ‘I see the electronics are still shot…shall we go back to base?’

Davis shrugged, placing his cup on the dash as he dusted the rain droplets from his uniform, ‘It’ll be back on soon…the engineers will be working on it now…’ He pointed to the windscreen briefly, grinning, ‘Look…it’s stopped raining now! So…what’s in the bag?’

His older colleague sighed as he stared out of the misting windows, then glanced at the black man, winking, ‘Chocolate cookies…I thought you would like…’ He stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he glanced round furtively, ‘What was that?’ He indicated to the radios, ‘Turn them down…I can’t hear…’

Davis leant forward obediently, noticing the shadowed figures on the street tense and turn to stare into the city behind, ‘W-what’s going on?’ The hairs on the back of his neck twitched, the muffled siren wailing in the distance, then escalating as another started sounding in Brooklyn across the river…then another in Queens to their right.

He leant back, watching the nervous figures begin scuttle past them, his ears straining as he heard the wailing noise seeming to get louder as more and more sirens started to sound, ‘What the hell?’ Davis cautiously opened the squad car door, his left boot dropping onto the wet tarmac as the swirling noise now filled the vehicle.

Rising slowly from the car, he leant against the black and white door, straining his eyes as he glanced round, the sirens wailing all across the southern side of the city. His partner’s head lifted above the roof on the other side as they retrieved their caps, his expression suspicious as the cars before them started to accelerate past, people beginning to run pensively along the sidewalks of Broad Street past them on either side as the policemen’s hands dropped cautiously onto the top of their side weapons.

Davis glanced up and behind, the distinct whirr of helicopter blades echoing across the towering street walls. His partner stiffened, pointing upwards as three military jets swept high overhead, following the line of the Hudson River, his voice strained, ‘What the hell is going on? We’d best get down to the ferry terminal…see if they need a hand.’

The black officer’s eyes widened as he nodded, static shooting up his spine as he stared at the dark water in the distance, the surface beginning to bubble and spout, ‘I dunno what’s happening…but it’s coming now!’ Davis darted forward, running to the edge of the main road and lunging to the right along the river, jogging sideways as he glanced out over the water once more, awaiting a gap in the slowing and gathering traffic to proceed.

His partner ran forward, raising and waving his hands at the passing traffic, the squeal of tyres as cars slowed to let them jog across. The two uniformed officers darted through the stationary vehicles, reaching the middle of the carriageway as three helicopters shot overhead, beginning to circle out towards Queens on the right as Davis gasped, stopping dead in his tracks.

The choppy water surged and spun violently about three hundred metres from the river wall beyond the Staten Island Ferry Terminal, the policemen staring open mouthed as car tyres screeched, the drivers turning to follow the frantic pointing and gesturing of their passengers. Pedestrians jumping as the sonic boom roared across the River, three more jets shooting past high above and banking hard out over the southern water as the sirens continued to wail.

Davis drew his pistol cautiously, lowering it as he ran forward at a half crouch through the traffic, lights beginning to pulse through the surging water, several more swirls beginning to emerge across the river. The crunch of bumpers and smashing plastic lights filled the air, drivers distracted by the flashing beacons and wailing sirens as the waters began to surge more violently.

The dark black craft slowly emerged from the water, liquid cascading from the wings as they automatically extended, the glow from the engines causing steam and smoke to rise and pour from the vessel. Behind it, more fighters rose upwards, billowing steam swirling across the bay as Davis skidded to a halt, falling backwards and crashing against a car bonnet as he stared open mouthed, his heart pounding as he sucked for air.

He lay half across the car bonnet dumbfounded as more and more black sleek fighters emerged from the water, the steam contorting the vision before him as horns blared out, other drivers and passengers simply opening their doors and running away from the water in panic.

Static energy flashed from the black vessel hulls, sparking across the dark water surface as people began to run in sheer terror from the piers and waterfront, the screams filling Davis’s ears as he simply stared open mouthed. The fighters swept forward, the water dripping from the shining surfaces as steam and smoke filled the air, the craft shooting past as they swept up the Hudson River, the water surging backwards in their wake.

Davis lay their gasping, the screams around him seeming distant as he stared upwards, rain beginning to fall once more as explosions echoed from the north, the screeches of the high powered craft becoming more distant as the sirens continued to wail.

Far out along the river, numerous figures swam underwater towards the docks and lower Brooklyn, their black armour surging through the waves and currents from over forty fighter craft.