“It is what it is, but I bet they think twice before doing silly shit like that out in the open again.”
Jacob leaned forward, dropping the empty magazine from his rifle before searching for a replacement in his vest. “Did you see anything else?”
James nodded, drying his hand on his trousers. “They got ’em, lots of people in there. It’s some kind of town. I was able to get up to a rooftop just across from the orb. They built a fence that runs right around that small town. There are a few houses on the backside that look like they were damaged when that thing landed. For whatever reason, they excluded them from the fence.
“I had a good view of the back approach; something was going on. They positioned all of their guards in and around the orb—had all the civilians marching down the main street for some sort of concert, gathering, or something. I couldn’t hear anything, but it must have been important. I was about to pull back and head for the tower when I saw them pull some lady onto the stage. They dumped her head into some of that Delta stew, the black shit that turns them.”
“And you stopped it?” Jacob asked.
“He’s not in good shape. Popped his grape and put two into his chest.”
Rogers grunted. “This isn’t good. I think you just poured gas all over the hornets’ nest. They’ll double up security now and go out in force after us.”
James spat and, using a log, drug himself back to his feet. “Wake up, brother, what you think they were already doing? I just let them know they can be touched. I put them on notice. And hell, I plan to do more of it. I just need a bigger gun.”
“You might have crushed our only chances of getting inside.”
“Damn, Rogers, what the hell are you so afraid of? Look around you. We’re fucked. This is all lost already, there’s nothing left to lose. I lay up there on that roof watching them, so damn many of them, and not that many of us. The people filed out of those houses, all of them falling in line, doing what they were told to—”
Jacob leaned in. “Did you see Laura?”
The bearded scout shook his head. “No… just crowds of faces all dressed alike. But for the most part they looked safe—except for the one, but she stood up to them. I saw her shout at them before they snatched her from the crowd. Maybe that’s what we’ve got to look forward to. Do what we’re told to survive.”
“Except they don’t accept men into their little commune,” Jacob said.
“Wrong, they had men. I watched a couple of them really close. Little rat bastards wearing blue pajamas, like trustees or something, they had more freedom of movement than the others. I was planning to snatch one of the little turncoats. Well, before I saw the Liberace routine.”
“We need to go back,” Jacob said, having heard enough.
James grinned, swinging his legs over a nearby log. “Now you’re talking. But first we need to get back to the tower and rearm.”
Chapter Seventy-Two
The old man lay tucked into thick grass, his eye glued to the scope with a clear sight of the roadblock. He was in an elevated position and less than five hundred meters from the target; they would take several down before they had to withdraw back into the woods. Even if they did not kill them all, it was enough to slow them down, and that was their main objective—to disrupt the enemy movement.
A single alien vehicle blocked the intersection; two Red Sleeves in front, another behind it, one sticking out of the armored turret. The back of the carrier jostled and a ramp dropped, more alien soldiers exiting and moving into the grass alongside the carrier. The ear tickling vibrations stopped as their vehicle shut down and settled onto the surface of the road. These things were settling in for a long shift.
Clem grinned. Excited at the prospects in front of him, he let his hand move to the top of his scope and turned a dial, illuminating a red dot. He steadied the .308 bolt-action rifle and focused on the alien in the turret. He knew more of Matt’s soldiers would be farther up the trail, setting improvised explosive devices on the road leading back to the alien base. If these called for help, there would be a surprise for any quick reaction force. They were ready to take the fight back to the enemy. Clem turned his wrist and looked at his watch, almost noon. Almost time to begin.
“Hold up,” Masterson whispered.
His spotter was positioned just behind him to his right. He was behind the stock of an M240B machine gun fitted with a long-range scope—a gift from the stores at Emmerson’s ridge. “What is it?” Clem asked.
“We got civvies on the road, moving this way.”
Clem removed his eye from the scope and squinted into the bright sunlight. He spotted a group of refugees, women and children carrying heavy bags, one with a suitcase on rollers. A sight right out of the Third World. He used his scope to get a better view. Panning left and right, he could only see women; two paced out in front of the others—an elderly woman and a short, husky woman, wrapped in blankets.
The two red-sleeved soldiers at the front of the convoy spread out on the road, watching the approaching mass. One turned back, signaling the alien in the turret. A short moment later, a Gold Sleeve exited the back of the vehicle and joined them on the road. The creature made its way to the front, anticipating, almost welcoming, the approaching civilians.
“They surrendering?” Clem whispered.
“Looks like it. Your call, what do you want to do?”
“I’m hungry, but I’m not eager to take down friendlies in the crossfire,” Clem said. “Let’s see how this plays out.”
As the civilians drew closer, the Gold Sleeve
