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  CHAPTER 31 – Journal Entry 23

  “They’re posting new rankings and I really think you should see this!”

  That definitely wasn’t my mother. “What’s going on?” I woke up. I liked my dream world much better. Even if it was a time long forgotten. The worst I would suffer back then was a bloody nose, not a spear in the belly.

  “I’m coming!” I shouted. “Just let me put on some pants.” Damn, that didn’t sound good. If I had been a little more awake I would have chosen a better selection of words, especially with the tension flowing through this abode.

  “You’re ranked seventh!” Tanya shouted with an almost gleeful tone. “That’s awesome.”

  “Yeah,” I replied sarcastically. “If there were more than nine of us left.”

  “Oh,” she sighed as the wind flew out of her sails.

  “It says you’re fighting the second and sixth ranked contestants. What does that mean?” Francesca, one of my new acquisitions, said.

  “No, you must be reading it wrong.” Or so I sincerely hoped. “I should either be fighting the third or fourth seed or by some grace of God I should have a bye.”

  “No, it says you’re fighting Leonard Bernstein, number 2 and Troy Trentner, number 6, what does that mean?” She was almost pleading.

  And so I paid a little more attention to what I was actually reading. The aliens had decided to do one-on-one-on-oners. Basically, it was going to be every man for himself in a three-way. This was a very twisted and unwanted surprise. The odds of dying in this mess had increased geometrically. Not only would I have to study two men’s fighting techniques, I would also need to try to figure out how they would interact with each other and with me. If they decided to team up against me and get me out of the way first I was a goner. But I had to believe each of the other men would consider me the weakest link and would rather have my help in eliminating the other and then try to finish me off. Or else they would just play renegade and kill the first thing that got in their way regardless of who it was. This was not a pretty turn of events, and of the three men going into the ring I was picked as a fifty to one long shot of being the one coming out alive. Troy, the number 6 guy, was in the neighborhood of six feet tall, he didn’t look overly impressive but according to his bio he had been a fitness trainer another lifetime ago. He was agile and fast, his preferred weapon was the mace, and he wielded it like it was a child’s toy. Even with a miss he was able to bring it back around before his competition was able to parry a thrust. Leonard, number 2, was even less impressive but there he was. He looked like a lost accountant but the man had an uncanny ability with the bow. He had killed everyone he faced with that bow and arrow. I watched in fascination as he placed two perfectly aimed arrows into the chest of a running man from fifty yards away before that man could take five more steps. I don’t think the poor bastard had even registered the fact he had been shot by the first arrow when the second one slammed home. A deal with Leonard was out of the question, he wouldn’t care who was coming. I can’t imagine he was afraid of either one of us. But Troy, well, he had to be a little concerned with the speed and accuracy Leonard possessed. But I wasn’t even sure if the both of us together had a shot. And could we possibly build enough mutual trust in that short of a time knowing full well we would have to kill each other before the night was through? What a mess. I was scared and I didn’t want any of the women to know. I’m sure they were suspicious, but the drama in this place was already to a boil, I didn’t wish to be the flashpoint. I had not a clue what my next plan of action was. Luckily, the aliens opened the door for me and I took full advantage.

  Word came down the following day the Supreme Commander wished to visit with the final nine warriors. Maybe he wanted to express his undying gratitude for our showmanship. I would have loved to have made it his dying gratitude but such pleasantries had to wait. If the Supreme Commander wanted to see us then that’s what we would do. I just had to take full advantage.

  We met the Supreme Commander the following day with his entourage. Apparently, we were either too far beneath him or he didn’t speak English because he never once addressed us personally. It was all through one of his men or women (I still had no clue if this species reproduced sexually or asexually). He basically just wanted to thank us for a job well done and as gesture of goodwill he laid out a spread worthy of a king. There were lobsters and steaks and every imaginable food along with—bless his heart—beer. The only thing that would have made it a good night would have been if I wasn’t with eight guys who wanted me dead, but I was truly unconcerned with all of them save one—Troy.

  I tried desperately to make contact with him without appearing to make contact with him. Leonard didn’t give a care about anyone else there. He paid no attention to anything except the food and beer. Durgan was too busy attempting to intimidate everyone. The rest I felt were much more on my wavelength. Yeah, they had confidence and some swagger, but they were also leery. They were aware of everything going on around them; like me, they were attempting to size up their competition and it was then I noted Troy looking directly at me. My heart leaped into my throat. This might be the only chance I had and if he misconstrued my message we both would be sunk. I pointed at my chest and then at his and mouthed the words ‘me and you’. At first he had a quizzical look on his face and then my hopes sunk as anger began to cross his face. I think he thought I was directly challenging him. And then, thankfully, realization dawned; he nodded once in agreement. So the plan was set. I could only hope he would hold up his end of the bargain. And to be honest, it wasn’t much of a plan, we had merely bargained to forestall our own demise in favor of killing the far more dangerous of us three. What a twisted world we had stumbled upon. In all the imaginable tangents I could have foreseen my life going into, this one wasn’t even on the scope.

  After I had made my intentions clear to Troy, I actually partook of the abundance in front of me. In some respects, this could have been my last meal—who knew? The beer was bitter but it was beer nonetheless. And it was not nearly as bitter as my thoughts as I dwelled on the upcoming battle.

  CHAPTER 32

  Outside Vail, Colorado

  “That’s it, Dewey, you’ve got it. Now stay steady and squeeze the trigger—don’t pull it.” Paul moved down the firing line to check on the rest of the recruits. It wasn’t much of an army, twenty-two people to be exact, but he knew the government was covering up the whole alien conspiracy. Dewey had been in the parking lot when the ship came and took his friends away. No matter who he pleaded his case to they always turned a deaf ear. And he was sick of it. Paul, after his latest visit with Senator Allard, had decided to take matters into his own hands. Not many people took him seriously, but he had a small decently armed and growing militia. And he had left enough fliers on campus so when whatever was going to happen, happened, the rest of the nonbelievers would have a semi-safe haven. Paul had never been one to embrace military affairs, that was always best left to those who were trained for such things. But by sheer luck or divine will, he ran into a character named Frank Salazar, a former Marine, who had been taking a few classes on campus to further his education. Paul and Frank didn’t necessarily see eye to eye but they both believed in the cover-up and the impending invasion. Nobody comes down to Earth and scoops up ten thousand people or so without some kind of ulterior motive. Frank still had some connections at the reserve station in Colorado Springs. The sergeant of the armory was sympathetic to this new cause and was also a ranking officer in the newly founded Colorado State Militia. M16A2’s and the corresponding ammunition had somehow fallen off a truck bound for Twenty-Nine Palms and landed in the militia’s arms. The makeshift army had found an old hiker’s cabin, the kind someone caught out in severe weather might have been lucky enough to stumble across. The cabin itself was used mainly for meetings; the men had started building bivouac huts. They figured two would be enough to house them all comfortably. Paul had them build twelve.

  It was difficu
lt to train against an enemy when you didn’t even know what they looked like. The majority of their days were spent on honing their survival skills such as chopping wood for the coming winter, storing food, keeping the generators in peak operating condition, and building and reinforcing the original structures. And when the basic chores were completed, the men all practiced their shooting under the watchful eye of Frank. He was by far the most qualified having attained three expert badges while in the Corps. And he had been thoroughly pleased with the progress of his men. Eight of them were, without a doubt, experts, ten were good enough you didn’t want to be in their line of fire, and three, well those three needed a little more tender loving care and a lot more ammunition. Well, at least Frank knew which three to put on perimeter defense. If you couldn’t shoot you had to be closer to the action. Frank saw to the training and the discipline of the men. He felt they were truly beginning to gel into a fighting force. He wouldn’t want to take them up against Marine regulars but these guys could give the army a run for their money. Paul saw to the day-to-day affairs, recruitment, and if he couldn’t get a warm body he was always looking for cold hard cash. And there were a lot of people out there who wouldn’t publicly admit to what was happening, but when it went down they also wanted safe haven. The U.S. government hadn’t even mobilized the National Guard yet. By this stage of the game, U.S. Marines should have been stationed at every major city. Frank was under the impression the National Guard couldn’t fight their way out of a wet paper bag in a rainstorm, and at best they would take three to four full days to mobilize. The way these ships moved, they’d be lucky to have a three or four hour warning. No, these small bands of brothers had made the decision to not go out like lambs, helpless to the slaughter.

  “Frank, how is Generator Four doing? Paul asked.

  “So far so good, but it’s going to need a new valve before the winter sets in. We don’t want to get caught up here without enough juice when the snow sets in.”

  “Alright, I’m running down to Boulder today. I heard there are three more recruits and a couple of thousand dollars in donations coming our way. Ask the men if there is anything special they want while I’m in town. Oh, and Frank...”

  “Yeah,” Frank said as he turned back around.

  “Tell the men two out of the three new recruits are women and if they are anything but perfect gentlemen, I will let you use them for targets.”

  “Yes, sir,” Frank said with a grin. He knew Paul wasn’t kidding. “Dude, you really should have been in the Marines.”

  “Dude, huh? Is that a military term?” Paul smiled. “Naw, I could have never been in the Marines, especially with those god-awful haircuts.”

  “You mean high and tights?”

  “Yeah, those things. Besides women love this long hair.”

  “Well, I guess we all have our faults,” Frank snorted. “I’ll get Bivouac Eight set up for the women.”

  “Frank.”

  “Yeah, boss.”

  “Make sure there are no extra holes in the sides.”

  “I’ll check on it myself, Paul. Drive safe. See you tonight. Hey, why don’t you snag some Mickey D’s on the way back? Stop at the one in Georgetown and tell the manager, a pencil necked little geek named Richard, you know me. He’ll hook you up.”

  “Excellent, and get on Dewey, will you? His shooting is terrible. I don’t even want to be in the same room with him when he shoots darts.”

  Frank smiled. “Hey, Paul, someone has to be on the front line of defense.”

  “Alright-alright, I’ll be back in a few hours.” Paul turned and hopped into his brand new Jeep Wrangler courtesy of the dealership owner who had a son training here at this very moment. What a strange twist of events his freshman year had turned out to be. His dad had told him these would be the most memorable times of his life. Somehow he figured this wasn’t what his dad had meant. ‘Mike, I swear to you and Beth I will avenge your deaths.’ He felt with utter conviction all those people had been slaughtered and he meant to do all that was in his growing power to do something about it.

  CHAPTER 33

  Washington D.C.

  “Dr. Schoville, what are the chances the aliens can see that bomb?” the President asked with just a little more tension than he wished the cabinet members to see.

  “Well, Mr. President, I think the proof is in the pudding,” the professor answered in all seriousness.

  “Dr. Schoville, pardon me,” the President said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m tired and I’m more than a little worried—what exactly do you mean?”

  “Well, sir,” the professor said without missing a beat. “Our shuttle is still there. If they suspected the magnitude of the device on board I have no doubt they would have eliminated it a long time ago. And to be honest with you sir, they still have a long way to go and we know the aliens could strike at their leisure.”

  “And that is my concern,” the President noted.

  “Mr. President, if I may?” Captain Moirane stood up.

  “By all means, Captain, your opinion is always welcome here.”

  “Well, sir, like the good professor noted, if they knew of the device on board they would have eliminated the threat as soon as the shuttle left the planet. With that new platinum wrap around the warhead I don’t think even the most advanced scanning equipment in the galaxy would detect anything more than some random naturally occurring radiation.”

  “Captain, what is the prognosis for the crew of the shuttle?” the President said , once again rubbing the bridge of his nose.

  “Sir, they were all volunteers and they knew exactly what they were getting into,” the Captain answered as neutrally as possible.

  “I know they were volunteers. I am asking you as a military person, what do you believe their odds of coming back from this are?”

  “Sir, knowing they have to get close enough to let loose that missile without giving the aliens a chance to blow it up or move their ship... well sir, they’d never be able to get their ship far enough away in time, they would be killed by the initial blast.”

  “So in your expert opinion, you think—”

  “I think we should be preparing drafts for the parents, wives and children of those men.”

  “Thank you, Captain, that is all.” The President sat back down in his chair, bracing himself for the whopper of a migraine mere moments away. But he knew he had one more task to complete before this night was through.

  “Alright, everybody is dismissed for the evening but please wake me should any new events arise.” Although he was fairly certain sleep would once again not visit the White House. “Captain?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Send in Mrs. Cavanaugh on your way out.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

  Mrs. Cavanaugh was the President’s personal secretary and had been at his side since he was a lowly district man back in Massachusetts. She entered the room and assessed the situation at a moment’s glance. “Joseph, why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep?” Mrs. Cavanaugh suggested, concern written all over her face.

  “I would love to, Mrs. C, but the fate of the world is resting squarely on my shoulders.”

  “It’s going to be tough to hold the weight of the world up when you yourself are barely standing.”

  “Point well taken, but I have to do this one final thing before I call it a night. Could you please take some dictation for me?”

  “Certainly, Joseph.”

  “Mrs. C, when are you going to start calling me by my title?”

  “Joseph, I’ve known you since you were a wet-eared kid out of Harvard, you’ve never called me Betty and I’ve never called you by whatever title you had at the time. That’s just who we are. I see no reason to change now.”

  “I guess you’re right Mrs. C. Now is not the time to change anything more than what already has been. That’s the first time I’ve felt like smiling in the last month,” the President said with a twinkle in his eye
.

  “Ah, there is the Joseph I know and love.”

  “And now back to the reason I wanted you here.”

  “Do you want me to start on the letters to the families of the shuttle crew?”

  “Mrs. C, you really need to stop listening at the door.”

  “How else am I going to make sure you’re doing the right thing? Go to bed, Joseph—I’ve written enough of these letters to know how it’s done.”

  “And that’s the problem, Mrs. Cavanaugh. I keep sending brave young men to their deaths and here we are safe and warm at home.”

  “It’s the lot you drew in life and don’t go feeling all sorry for yourself. You are a true leader of men. You’ve averted at least two great wars since your time in office and the one war you had to fight you made decisive decisions that saved the lives of countless thousands. And you are now sending some of this country’s bravest men on a suicide mission to save potentially billions of lives. You’ve known all along the few always have to be sacrificed for the many.”

  “Once again, Mrs. C, you’ve gone where none of my top advisors will ever go. You tell it to me straight. Not necessarily what I want to hear, but always what I need to hear. But no, I will not leave you here alone to write these letters.” Mrs. Cavanaugh began to protest but the President just motioned her to sit back down.

  “Dear Mr. and Mrs…”

  CHAPTER 34 – Journal Entry 24

  With one week to go I did not have a lot of confidence in my alliance with Troy. Was a nod enough to trust my life to this man? I watched his bouts, but I saw no overt signs of him being any less sane than myself. As far as I could tell, he also didn’t hurt his gifts. Maybe this made him honorable or maybe it didn’t, but my best chance still lay with him. Deb had become more reclusive than I ever had and Stephanie had practically vanished from sight. Tanya slowly but surely took over the daily household affairs. The house had seemed a lot more subdued these past few weeks, possibly due to the end being so near and nobody knew their fate, not with any certainty anyway. I conditioned my body for six hours a day, whether it was on the treadmill or practicing martial arts. I was quite impressed with the machine I had become. Too bad it took death matches to get me into shape, but for good or bad I was a bona fide lean mean killing machine. The women folk seemed especially nervous this time around or maybe my senses were just a little bit more heightened. Either way I was walking on the edge of a razor. It hurt to walk up there but it beat falling off into the abyss. I said my prayers and had a sort of group hug with the women more so for them than me. I was attempting distance, but women are like that, all touchy-feely. What are you gonna do?