barricades.
'I have an idea,' Trevor told them. 'Let’s run away.'
– 'Here they come…steady…steady,' Trevor encouraged the troops manning the bulwarks.
A first, then a second, then a storm of alien shots sprayed toward the emplacements. Human rifles answered the challenge but that answer lacked the fury of previous exchanges.
Jon Brewer’s voice came over Trevor’s radio: 'They’re hitting us here, too. This is it.'
Trevor nodded to himself as he watched a wave of Viking attackers flow into and across the open ground. The enemy’s ponchos morphed from gray to a near honey-color as they crossed the killing zone under the golden rays of an evening sun.
Stone glanced at the handful of men and women lining the trenches. Most of those who had volunteered to stay behind were pre-doomsday soldiers but a few wore tattered civilian clothes instead of army-issued fatigues.
The balance of his force had already retreated to the last mountain. He knew for his plan to have maximum effect, the enemy needed to remain oblivious to this fact.
'Shep,' Trevor transmitted. 'What about you?'
Shepherd’s radioed reply came with a melody of gunshots playing as background music.
'Oh yeah, they’re coming. I reckon the whole bunch of em’ are-hey! Hold fast! Gotta go Trev, waitin’ on your order.'
Alien pellets bounced off the tree limbs above Trevor’s head. Scattered rifle and pistol rounds blasted a reply.
A Viking soldier clutched his chest and fell to the ground. His comrades swarmed around the body with a determination Trevor had not seen in the previous skirmishes that day.
Yes. This is it.
A scream grabbed his attention.
A chubby woman wearing a plaid shirt stumbled from behind a cut tree that served as a barricade. She clutched her right eye with one hand while a hunting rifle dangled absently from the other. Blood poured from the wound as she staggered and screamed. Confused and disorientated, she accidentally wobbled forward into the field. Before anyone could retrieve her, Viking slugs finished the job.
When they reached the halfway point in their march across the tree stumps and chopped brush, the Vikings hollered and sprinted forward.
Trevor raised his radio and ordered, 'Fall back! Fall back!'
The enemy intensified their fire as they closed for the kill. One, two, three and more of the defenders took hits first in the front then in their backs as they turned.
Stone lobbed a grenade into the vanguard of his foe. The detonation knocked two of the warriors to the ground but the rest of the mob paid the blast no mind.
'Go! Go! Go!' he encouraged his followers as they withdrew from the ramparts.
Trevor waited as long as he dare, but when the aliens climbed the downed trees and piled rocks serving as the second line of defense, he could wait no more. He joined the flight to the rear; racing alongside his soldiers just as he knew Shep and Jon raced alongside the men and women who manned the flanks.
Not satisfied with merely overrunning the position, the aliens pursued.
The dense forest provided some cover, but more soldiers fell victim to the attackers. Trevor and the others kept running, leaving behind the injured and their pleads for help.
The retreating mob crested the hill and then stumbled and hopped down the other side. Thick forest gave way to brush and then tall grass as the descent smoothed to a gentler grade.
The Vikings still pursued, closing the gap between predators and prey.
'Faster! Faster!'
Trevor saw one middle-aged man stumble and roll. A sickening crack from his leg meant he would not get up again.
A woman on his right staggered but found her balance; a soldier to his left leapt over a boulder only to be hit square in the back by an alien round.
The brush thinned into a field of grass. The mountainside became a small valley. Human feet splashed through the shallow stream there. The plop and ping of projectiles left no doubt the pursuers remained close.
Trevor shouted encouragement as he reached the northern bank where another grassy slope beckoned. His legs wobbled wearily. Could he possibly climb fast enough to escape?
Despite his fatigue, he rallied his troops forward. Patches of dirt burst into the air as enemy slugs hit the slope ahead.
The humans chugged up the mountain, trying to reach the relative cover of the tree line.
More screams as slower runners were thinned from the retreating ranks.
Trevor heard the splash of Viking boots in the stream. He heard their cry…
No, not their cry.
Woh-who-ey!..woh-who-ey!
Stonewall’s brigades slammed into the Viking front on both flanks like a vice. The cavalry bore down on the foot soldiers caught in the wide-open terrain of the small valley. While only three dozen in number, the sudden appearance of the imposing mounted soldiers and their devilish rebel yell decapitated the alien offensive.
Horse hoofs splashed through the stream. Carbines fired and swords swung. The bones of trampled aliens snapped under the strong legs of galloping steeds. Stonewall himself swooped in and lopped off a poncho’d head.
The tip of the aliens’ spear lost cohesion and splintered into small groups while the mass of the Viking force-their confidence battered- halted their charge.
Stonewall holstered his sword and pulled a revolver. He squeezed off shot after shot as he maneuvered his ride halfway up the slope in pursuit of fleeing aliens. The gallant General cornered another foe against a tree, raised his gun, and… click.
'Oh dear heavens…'
The Viking confidently raised his rifle for an easy kill.
Thwump.
A thrown knife plunged into the chest of the enemy fighter who groaned and fell.
Stonewall turned to see Kristy Kaufman on horseback.
'Why Miss Kaufman, I do believe I’m in your debt.'
'That’s Ms.'
He bowed then surveyed his handiwork: dozens of Vikings lay dead in the valley with several more squirming and moaning as their life bled out. A swarm of K9s hastened their end.
'Gave them a bloody nose, we did,' Kristy cheered as she and the General returned toward friendly lines. 'They’ll think twice before hitting us again.'
'Hmm…I wish I shared your optimism. I fear our foes have a keen grasp of combat. This is but a temporary setback. Indeed, they will blame their losses on their overabundance of enthusiasm. When the smoke clears, they will realize they still hold all the advantages.'
Stonewall gazed toward the top of the densely wooded hill. The last hill.
'Our mounts will be of little use now. I fear this will become a bloody mess soon.'
'We’ll find a way, General.'
McAllister glanced at the empty pistol in his hand.
'I hope whatever 'way' we find is not overly dependent on bullets.'
– Trevor passed his 'soldiers' en route to a hastily constructed command tent. He listened as he moved and heard groans of pain, forlorn sobs, and snippets of conversations.
'…yeah, and a year ago I was at a company golf outing in Myrtle Beach, now look at me-toting a shotgun and shooting aliens. Ain’t that some kind of shit?'
'I can’t believe he’s gone. I saw him. He was running and they shot him in the back…'
'Don’t tell me to calm down! I don’t want to be calm, goddamnit!'
'Shhh…listen…me and a couple of the others are going to sneak off before morning.'
He tried to block it out but he could not block out the truth of their situation.
