Chapter 2: The Accident

MILO'S POV

We hurry into our gear, making sure to get ready two by two. Then, those in their combat apparatuses must evacuate the pod. Otherwise, there’s just not enough room for anyone else to dress. Aiden and I suit up together, each turning to secure the back straps on the chest plates we wear. With all the heavy equipment on, it feels like I’m a baseball catcher getting ready to take the field.

We exit the pod and fall into formation outside, a loose grouping since we are usually split into smaller teams to take on the invaders. The smell hits me. I had a lizard once, a little leopard gecko that liked to crawl up my arm and nestle in the crook of my elbow when I was doing homework. There’s a smell, hard to explain. That same cool, nonmammalian, rocks and pond water smell hits me as I stand with my squad. They’re really close now. The last person out of the pod needs to hit the button for the dissimulation drive to hide the unit. Otherwise, the enemy will smash it to bits. I know we’re all prepared and out of the den when it gives a few high-pitched clicks and then disappears from the naked eye.

“Teams of three, as usual. Do not engage until they are close enough to defeat. Do not fire unnecessary shots and give away your location. If a man falls, do not stop to rescue or revive. Once they know where you are, there is no surviving. Kill or be killed,” Rich says, taking a moment to look each man in the eye.

In tandem, the squad makes an ‘arrrooumph’ noise together in a group baritone. We understand. All but a few of us have done this before, and that means all but a few of us know just how dangerous this defense mission is.

The ground rumbles as we spread out, each team of three trying to find a good location to hunker down and set up field weapons. Once Chavo, Aiden, and I find a little hollow between two bare, sickly-looking trees, we release the pulls inside our gear and are vacuum-sealed into the suits. On the outside, the small scales that make up the fabric of the combat gear are mimicking the colors all around us, an adaptable camouflage. We no longer are detectable by our heat signatures, our housing, or our clothing. Only movement and sound can give us up.

Aiden starts setting up the concussive gun, silently shoving each piece into place. I begin laying out the grid nets and priming them. I dial the resistance way up, taking a second to throw dry grass and sticks on top. A human can walk on these nets without any problem, so long as they’re correctly calibrated. Anything larger will set them off, causing spikes of metal filled with liquid nitrogen to pierce whatever is on top. Chavo makes sure that his three drones are synced to his controls. The triplets are armed with small, round ammunition. Once they hit a target, the drones’ payload can dehydrate a creature within seconds. These things can turn people to desiccated mummies in the time it takes to blink. For the aliens, it slows them down, somewhat.

On paper, all these offensive weapons sound good. They sound like there’s no way an enemy could survive that kind of brutal assault. However, in order to wrestle these beasts down, it usually takes getting hit by two or all three of the weapons at the same time. It has to be well coordinated. It has to be done by a steady hand. It has to be damn near perfect luck.

The first one stomps into view, quickly followed by four others. They are a deep gray, their coloring uniform from top to bottom. If elephants became humanoid, bipedal, and swallowed a ton of turtles and hoarded the shells beneath their skin as some sort of biological armor, this is what they would look like. Their fleshy, fanlike ears twitch as they listen for any sign of a threat, of us. Instead of an elephant’s trunk, these creatures have something akin to a wet bear’s nose in the middle of their faces, though it is exactly the same color as the rest of their nine-foot-long or more bodies.

They’re impervious to bullets, to bombs, to weaponized electricity. The only weakness we’ve discovered in all this time is that they seem to be sensitive to the temperature changes that are a natural part of living on earth. This is why we use liquid nitrogen and the amplified soundwaves of the concussive gun. That’s what we know about them. They can’t get too hot or cold too quickly and their ears are touchy.

However they communicate, it’s not verbal. There are no comms to jam, no radio waves or uplinks to intercept. Their weapons seem to be beyond our understanding as well. Their ungainly, rounded appendages aren’t suited to pulling triggers or anything requiring speed or dexterity. They move about with a sort of backpack strapped on that has two short cannons curling over each shoulder. One side is their long-range armament, and the other is what they use in close combat. That’s all they need. Two different options on the same mechanism. Utter devastation.

Each stretch of their long, column-like legs brings them closer. They’re so heavy that we can feel each individual’s footsteps rattling the earth. Our combat suits do a great job hiding our bodies, scents, and heat signatures, but we’re already slick with our own sweat underneath. The vacuum-sealed digs don’t let the skin breathe.

Another group must have been close enough to strike. We see trees cracking and crumbling with shots of the concussive gun. We can’t hear it, because our suits are programmed to block out any noise approaching the sound barrier. The aliens turn, trying to find the guys’ position. All of us are utterly motionless, watching. These are the men we live in close quarters with. Aiden, I know, thinks of them as his brothers in arms, emphasis on the brothers. Aiden is the youngest of three, and he seemed to need older brother figures to follow when he first joined us. Nearly all the guys stepped in. Seventeen is so young to see so much violent sh*t.

Two of them are priming their weapons. We can tell by the swirling, unnaturally turquoise light that forms in a spherical shape in the short-distance cannon. One of our men runs out of cover, straight toward us although there’s no way he can see us. I can’t tell from here who it is. Every instinct within screams at me to go out there, to help him. The alien turns toward him and activates the canon. The soldier looks back and falls, his momentum carrying him into a roll. He’s back on his feet, and then…

Then, he’s gone. The blast from the alien weapon zigzags toward him, that ball of light somehow homing in on him. It hits him and then there’s nothing left but a bloody mist in the air. There won’t be bones to bury. There won’t be dog tags to send to his family. He’s just gone, no more than wet particles falling slowly to the earth.

Aiden makes a small, strangled sound of bitter sorrow. The invader’s ears twitch toward us, and Aiden’s eyes widen with the understanding of his mistake. I breathe out slowly, just now realizing I’d been holding my breath. It’s our turn.

The other creatures all have primed their weapons, aware there could be more of us. They’ve spread out, looking for us in a coordinated, purposeful manner now. The one approaching us hasn’t alerted his fellows. He must not be sure of what he heard. C’mon big boy. Come get you some.

With my hand behind my back, I keep making a downward motion. Wait. Wait, guys. I can almost see the black, sunken gleam of the alien’s eyes. His weapon is ready to blast us. Wait. This is going to be perfect, down the second.

The creature twists his head our way, searching right in the hollow we’re hiding in. I make a sharp upward cutting motion as I leap to the left, drawing its attention. As it swivels to me, Chavo brings in the triplets, dropping their payload at the invader’s feet. He lifts and drops his large, ungainly appendages, a weird war dance as we’re fighting for our lives. Aiden brings the barrel of the concussive gun around, peppering the creature with cartridges we can’t hear. The creature is just a hair’s breadth away from stepping on one of my nets. I shout at it, positioning myself behind the net hoping I can get him to step forward. Instead, shaking from the barrage from the concussive gun, he turns toward Chavo. Just like before, one second my boy is there, battling with us, and the next he’s gone, the red mist of what’s left of him dispersing in the wind. This time, Aiden screams his pain, a wounded animal sound.

The alien turns gracelessly toward the kid, and I don’t think. I just react. I grab the net from the ground and run, feet pounding the hard ground. When I see the ball of light spark to life in the cannon pointed at Aiden, I leap, throwing the net out in front of me. It drapes around the alien’s giant legs, tangling as the creature moves. He falls, unfortunately right at me. The spikes engage before it hits me with its back, taking me to the ground beneath it.

My whole world goes black. With my last breath I think ‘I hope I’m dead, and Aiden is alive.’