Then he glimpsed the hovering helicopters, black dots against the grey skyline, the flashes of gunfire from open side doors followed by the booming sound some four seconds later, streams of light sweeping from side rocket launchers on the aircraft as pilots weaved and desperately attempted to stop the colossal vessel. Further grinding and then a large explosion, black smoke plumes billowing upwards before the skyscrapers, the Tobin Memorial bridge collapsing as the carrier shuddered abruptly to a halt, distant faint shrieks as the Morgon invaders charged from the hold and out into the dull light.
The marine turned away, slapping Rodrigues’s shoulder and indicating up the slope behind them, multi-coloured trees and bushes filling his vision along with a lush aroma of moist leaves and sap. His eyes looked upwards to the tall white Long Island Headlight lighthouse further up the rising slope as Rodrigues warily struggled to his feet, his eyes still strained on the distant harbour, the chatter of machine gunfire and explosions beyond his damaged hearing.
The waves lapped against his boots below, the Latino glancing down into the dark water, his head shaking in pain from throbbing ears, jarred and scratched hands rising tenderly to the drying blood along his jawline, his scoped assault rifle lost in the channel depths approaching Boston harbour.
Lifting his head, he stared out across the waves, oblivious to the gunfire cracks echoing across the harbour, his eyes widening as he leant forward, straining his sight as he gasped. The water further out from Long Island seemed to surge and bubble, churning and swirling as lights flashed through the surf. Foam formed in large patches, seeming to almost boil as the waves rose and fell, gaining ferocity as the Latino soldier backed away in horror, his body falling backwards onto the steep rocky incline behind as he desperately reached for his holstered semi-automatic hip pistol.
The younger US Marine behind turned from the trees, hearing the crackle of stones, his body tensing as he stared out into the surging dark water in rising fear. The sea churned further, black swirling pools seeming to form across the surface, his body lunging forward to grasp the shoulders of his fallen comrade at the water’s edge, voice rising in engulfing fear, ‘We need to go now buddy!’ Dragging the Latino marine back across the shoal, their boots slipped and slid on the wet pebbles as he lost his balance, falling roughly backwards.
Both men lay on the rocks briefly, their eyes staring out into the water as the waves rose and fell, lights flashing beneath as solid sloped frame seemed to rise from the frothing sea, water cascading off the sleek surfaces, the dark black alloy rising further as steam poured upwards, the powerful engines boiling and evaporating the churning waves beneath.
The marines spun round, scrambling away across the rocks in rising panic, both chests heaving as they lunged for the trees, slipping and sliding across the shoal in their dripping and soaked clothing, heavy body armour slowing their progress.
Behind them, the nine sleek black craft slowly turned in the air, water pouring from the hulls, the pilots and rear gunners staring through drenched cockpit windows, shrieks of adrenalin fuelled lust echoing beneath black armoured plate as they glimpsed the tracer fire across the buildings ahead.
Rodrigues glanced back over his shoulder in horror, feeling the heat sweep across his back, his countryman also looking back at the throbbing pulse of motors, sizzling of steam as water fell over the roaring exhausts, the turbulent air seeming to tremble as the pilots warmed their engines.
The young marine shouted in alarm, half dragging the Latino across the rocks, a whine of determination coming from his lips as further black gleaming craft emerged from the depths, the vessels slightly smaller and with only one pilot, ‘Fighter bombers and their escorts…we have to run!’
The two men scrambled into the trees, bushes lashing their faces as they struggled upwards, branches cracking on either side as the craft engines whirred, steam billowing around the frames as the water surged in their wake, the Morgon vessels shooting forward towards the stricken city, flashes illuminating the skyscrapers as explosions echoed in the streets.
As the two marines clawed their way upwards towards the lighthouse through the trees, many armoured bodies broke the surface of the dark water, heading for the harbour and bright lights ahead. Several nearer the shore turned, red sparkling helmeted eyes scanning the trees, their squad commander indicating for nine figures to follow him as he swam towards the rocks.
Behind then, a submerged grey transport craft broke the surface, water cascading off the wide roof as it turned in the waves, the vessel churning towards the nearby shore as the front loading platform lowered, mechanics whirring from within along with a subdued snarl, sharp claws raking the rutted steel walkway beneath.
New York, a bitten Big Apple: Holland Tunnel
NYPD Officer Davis Michaels turned left, gasping in the billowing smoke as the light faded in the sky above, his head turning to face the south, waving to his colleague and the female military volunteer, the two struggling and jostling between other hurrying pedestrians, the older policeman dragging the young woman’s arm forward.
The high building walls and shop fronts rose up on either side of the street, the sounds of distant furious gunshots sweeping towards them as national guard rear units fought desperately against the advancing Morgons. Street lights now flickered and surged, the reflection of flames across the deserted wet vehicle hulls and dirt encrusted faces, numerous lights overhead
