Invasion

18

“Hold it right there.” One of the soldiers stepped through the brush and aimed his rifle at Reno.

Reno kept his hands raised. He looked over at John.

“Is someone else with you?” another soldier asked.

“There’s only two of us left standing, and an injured soldier,” Reno said.

“Keep your hands where I can see ’em and slowly step out.”

John raised his hands and emerged from behind the tree. The soldier on the right looked him up and down.

“You’re a cop?”

John nodded. “Nashville P.D. And my friend here is an EMT.”

“What are you doing out here? And why is there a dead soldier at your feet?”

Reno’s eyes narrowed. “What? No. He’s not dead.”

The second soldier kneeled by Matthews and checked his pulse. He looked up at the first soldier. “Alive. Barely.”

“We were in a transport and on our way from Nashville when we were attacked,” John said. “The three of us were the only survivors.”

Reno stepped forward, against the soldier’s orders. “But it’s only going to be two survivors if we don’t get him some help fast.”

The soldier who was still standing glared at Reno for a minute. Then he lowered his weapon, letting out a sigh. “Get to the JLTV and drive it back here. We’ve got to get this poor guy back to base.”

The other soldier stood and hurried out of the woods, back towards the highway.

Reno and John still had their hands raised.

“You gentlemen can put your hands down. I’m Private First Class Reynolds, U.S. Army. Just call me Reynolds.”

The soldier stuck out his hand and Reno shook it.

“I’m Reno, and this is John.”

“Nice to meet you. Now, can you give me an update on the wounded?”

“This is Matthews,” John said. “Sergeant Matthews.”

Reynolds met his eyes. “Sergeant. Yeah, I saw his stripes.”

“Our vehicle flipped,” Reno said. “I’m pretty sure he’s got internal bleeding. He needs an ER doctor, and soon, or we’re going to lose him.”

A few minutes passed, and then the sound of an engine came from the road. The soldier who Reynolds had identified as Braxton emerged carrying a spine board stretcher. He lay it on the ground next to Matthews.

“Be careful moving him,” Reno said. He then looked at Matthews, whose eyes were barely open. “Hang in there, Sergeant.”

They carefully rolled Matthews onto his side and slid the board under him. Reno strapped him down, and then each man took a corner.

“On three,” Reno said. He counted, and on his mark, they lifted Matthews.

They carried him to the road where the JLTV sat idling and loaded him into the back of the vehicle. Reno jumped into the back seat, where he could keep an eye on the sergeant.

“I hope we can make it back before night,” Braxton said.

“We should be able to,” Reynolds said.

Reno didn’t know why that mattered, but he didn’t care. He only wanted to get to the base to get Matthews help.

“Just hang in there, Sarge.”

Braxton hit the gas, and the JLTV was off.

Reno kept looking at Matthews—the man’s skin had gone white and he flittered in and out of consciousness. He groaned with every bump in the road, and Reno noticed that John was now staring at the sergeant, as well.

“Jesus.” John looked out the window and then back at Reno. “If we don’t get to Fort Campbell soon, this guy is gonna die.”

Reno had witnessed so much death since this had all begun. Most of it had occurred in random flashes of violence which had left him helpless. But this guy, Matthews, he had a chance. The odds weren’t great, but Reno could do something about it. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

John groaned, and Reno looked out his window to see what had troubled the cop anew.

Some cars had been abandoned, their doors open and the vehicles pulled off onto the shoulder of the road as if the drivers had stopped for a moment to check a tire. But other vehicles sat in piles of burning, twisted metal. Charred corpses blended into the melted plastic, creating a grotesque sculpture of death and destruction. Even inside their vehicle, the stench of gasoline and burnt flesh made Reno gag. Some of the bodies on the road had been burned so badly that he couldn’t tell whether the person had been a man or woman as they passed close by. And he had seen enough of the attacks to know that the death here was simply collateral damage. The flying aliens had not only killed people—they’d vaporized them with lasers like something out of a science fiction movie.

John said, “I knew it was bad in the dome, but my God.”

“Is it like this everywhere?” Reno asked.

“As far as we know,” Reynolds said. “None of the reports we’ve received have been positive.”

Again, Maya popped into Reno’s mind. He had wanted to believe that the invasion wasn’t widespread, that it was a strange anomaly in Nashville. But Reno couldn’t believe his own lie now, and as he surveyed the damage the aliens had left behind, he wondered if Maya would have had any chance to drive to her mother’s house without being blown to pieces by whatever weapon had attacked the Army transport.

An explosion pulled him out of his thoughts, rocking the JLTV like the earlier blasts they’d felt had knocked around the transport. He glanced out the back of the vehicle, looking to the night sky and expecting a laser to cut through the clouds like before.

But it wasn’t just a beam this time.

Flames lit the horizon, and a huge, dark shape flew through the flames.

It was headed right for the JLTV.