Each Grenadier legion included a heavy-weapons Hunter team to combat these more dangerous threats.
The H-K groups straddled a line between military and Internal Security. Most of the time, I.S. coordinated and deployed the groups although military field commanders often took direct control of the teams during situations just like the one faced at Wilmington by Shepherd.
The engines on the planes slowly spooled down from loud to quiet to off. As they did, groups of black-clad humans, fierce looking Doberman Pinschers, Rottweilers, German shepherds, and Belgian Malinois’, as well as cargo and equipment off-loaded from the transports.
Usually Hunter-Killer teams did not operate in groups larger than a legion. For Wilmington, Shepherd used his influence with Dante Jones to have four legions placed at his disposal.
For the assault on Wilmington, an officer of Shepherd’s choosing would coordinate command of the Hunter-Killers, and he knew exactly whom he wanted for the job.
Nina Forest exited the terminal building and joined the General. The planes and their disembarking passengers stood one hundred yards away.
“Is this the last of them?”
Shep told her, “I reckon so. You got enough?”
“You sure you want me for this? You’re going to piss off some of the H-K commanders when they hear you put a field-operator in charge of this.”
“Screw them,” he replied, as his eyes remained focused on the planes. “You did a damn good job in Harrisburg and Trenton and you did it fast. That’s what I need.”
“Yeah, well, I’m just saying, we were a lot smaller than. Now we’ve got all sorts of chains of command and people get their panties in a twist real quick when their toes get stepped on.”
“Anyone thinking like that will get a boot up their ass. You know the boss isn’t much for red tape or bureaucracy. I’m putting in you in charge and that’s the end of the conversation as far as anyone is concerned. Your track record is pretty good. Use the Wolves as necessary. Sweep that city, clear it out, and cover my ass while we head south. Think you can handle that?”
The Captain answered, “Nothing to it.”
Shepherd turned and stared her directly in the eye.
“Nina, I mean it, I got to get my boys over to seventeen today and start going south fast to finish up this little trap we’ve put together. I can’t be worrying about what’s going on behind me. I need you to take this city. I need you to do it fast.”
Nina furled her brow and spat, “Which part of ‘nothing to it’ didn’t you understand?”
He could not help but smile. She was not being arrogant- okay, maybe a little — instead she was, in her mind, simply stating a fact.
After all, one way or another she always got the job done.
The city of Wilmington, North Carolina provided a perfect example of what happened to humanity’s sprawling concrete and steel jungles in the five years since the invasion. Unlike Richmond and Raleigh, no large organized alien army bothered with this port city. Instead, a new ecosystem grew over the old.
The vast majority of buildings-government, private, commercial, historical sites-stood intact, although the lack of maintenance showed in overgrown lawns, creeping vines, wind damage, and fading paint.
Five years after Armageddon, those buildings served as dens for a variety of creatures. Among the newcomers, Type A (herbivore, somewhat passive) Giant Sloths thrived by dining on the large number of trees throughout the city. In turn, Type B (carnivore, more aggressive) Giant Sloths thrived by dining on Type A Sloths, as well as a myriad of animals lower on the food chain such as slimy and electrified ‘Land Eels’ and dog-sized reptiles that spat acid and were known as-obviously-’Spit Lizards’.
Ironically, vacant cities like Wilmington became incubators for Earthly animals formerly in danger of eradication. Red wolves hunted amidst the buildings for both terrestrial and extraterrestrial prey including white- tailed deer prancing along vacant boulevards and furry six-legged squirrel-like mammals digging burrows in city parks. Foxes competed with alien carrion eaters for scraps and gray bats shared twilight airspace with gigantic Devilbats.
While the wildlife did not distinguish between Earthly and otherwise, Trevor Stone’s warriors did. Harmless or not, every alien creature faced extermination, and that was the job of the Hunter-Killer teams and why they came to Wilmington, North Carolina on Sunday, August 23 ^ rd.
Just before midday, a blue and white helicopter soared toward the squat skyline of Wilmington. Below the chopper, two columns of invaders marched aggressively for the city’s heart.
The first crossed the Northeast Cape Fear Bridge entering the city’s western sector; the second plunged southward along Route 117 intent on occupying the centrally located University of North Carolina at Wilmington campus.
Each column included a thousand disciplined and fearless K9s accompanied by human handlers dressed in black BDUs with matching caps carrying backpacks filled with specialized ordnance and armed primarily with shotguns or hunting rifles.
Nina Forest stood among crates in the rear hatch of an open-air Humvee holding a radio in one hand and clasping the roll bar with the other. She led the first column as it crossed the river and entered Wilmington from the west.
The previous day’s rain had blown out to sea leaving behind damp ground, fading puddles, and a musty smell everywhere. As noon approached, the clouds gave way to sun and the temperature rose. She rolled the sleeves on her black BDUs and took off her cap, letting a ponytail fall free to her shoulder blades.
Captain Nina Forest directed the Humvee to lead the mob of dogs and their handlers to the south along the river. When they came to a fork in the road, she radioed orders after consulting a map provided by the navigator sitting in the front passenger seat.
“Romeo One through Five, take Davis Street east until you hit McRae, then clear all points from Bess street north to Red Cross Street south with 4 ^ th as boundary west. How copy?”
“Romeo Command to Boss, hard copy all.”
Five different whistles blew and the mass of canines parted with half turning east into a residential neighborhood of small family dwellings, churches, and deteriorated neighborhood parks. Human handlers jogged alongside their fast-trotting Grenadiers waving their arms and shouting to show their army the way.
Nina surveyed the scene ahead where the four-lane blacktop led. Everything looked bleak and neglected, with colors worn to gray, dying and twisted landscaping, and scraps of litter coalescing against walls and stuck in the branches of bushes and trees. A picture postcard from post-apocalyptic America.
Insects-particularly mosquitoes-buzzed everywhere especially in the gravel and weed fields sloping down toward the river off to the right.
She pushed aside aesthetic considerations and dispatched the other half of her force.
“Juliet Two, push west to the river, spread out between the bank and Nutt Street and move south. You’re our right flank. Juliet Three, stack up next to Two, sweep the equipment rental place, the bus station, and then continue south on Front Street. Juliet Four, straight down on North Third until you hit the community college. Clear the college, secure a perimeter, and establish a first aid and rescue zone.”
“Juliet Four Command, solid copy.”
“Juliet Five, you’re our left flank. Start with that office building over there, keep Fourth Street to your left, and push south.”
More whistles. The remaining Grenadiers parted with handlers providing direction. One Legion still followed her Humvee.
Nina leaned over to speak with a dark-clad black man walking alongside her ride toting a military automatic shotgun, wearing stylish Oakley shades, and chewing a large wad of gum.
“Juliet One, you’re in reserve. Follow along and put out brush fires.”
The man with the shotgun and the shades answered with a thumbs up.
She returned her map to the navigator in the front seat and alternated her attention from left, to right, to straight ahead. Radio chatter from the Century commanders carried over her walkie-talkie.
“Juliet Two to Juliet Command, Something hopping around down by the shoreline…dogs got it.”
