At the End - a post-apocalyptic novel (The Road to Extinction, Book 1) (27 page)

Everyone in the audience, including myself,
tensed; as if all could sense what the senator was about to say. I
didn’t want him to, but I knew it was coming . . . the words were
on the edge of his tongue, about to roll off.

“Animals fit their needs. Humans fit their
needs.”

Shock and horror rang out in the audience.
General Kramer looked appalled, possibly even stunned, as if he had
been kept in the dark. When the uproar of the crowd became too
much, the general stepped forward and yelled for silence.

“We believed the situation dire, and so was
that of these aliens . . . it was never supposed to be like this,”
he cried. The senator scrambled in front of the podium and kneed.
“The deal we made with them was only for one percent . . . only one
percent of the population. We powered down our auto defenses when
they arrived, the entire Planetary Defense Network . . . and then
there was nothing we could . . . we never imagined.”

The crowd could no longer sit and listen to
the abominable words the senator was saying. Angry cries were
called out: “You killed us! Extinction bringer!” As the seconds
advanced, the calls evolved into a single word: “Murderer!”

“Please—please—please. I beg your
forgiveness. We didn’t know! We didn’t know. The aliens weren’t
supposed to take so many; it wasn’t the agreement. We didn’t know.”
He sobbed in front of us all. He turned into a heap of emotion,
tears spilling from his red eyes, his body trembling.

The general shook his head. Eyes open and
staring into nothingness, he just shook his head. He looked as if
he didn’t know what to do next.

An officer in the front row drew the pistol
holstered at his hip. BANG . . . BANG. BANG.

The senator hit the imitation-wood
flooring.

People screamed in panic, until they
realized what had happened, then cheers rent the enclosed space.
Their cries of retribution rattled the auditorium.

General Kramer peered at the senator’s
corpse with disgust.

I could feel the hatred in the air from all
the bodies of the living. We had all been betrayed. I gazed at
Tortilla.

His eyes met mine, full of streaming tears.
He shook his head as well. “How could this have happened like this
. . . our own leaders . . . our own . . .”

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice cracking. I
shuddered. “I don’t—” I started to say when my eyes sighted a
soldier running down the steps of the lower level. He leapt up the
stage and whispered into the general’s ear.

General Kramer nodded and dismissed the man.
Walking up to the podium he asked for silence. No one listened.
Then he demanded silence. Everyone obeyed. “Private Locke has just
informed me that a strange mark has been discovered on top of the
buildings that surround the complex. It is a single bar coming out
of a horizontal line. The last of the three marks.” He paused and
sucked in a deep breath. “We now know they are coming for us and
most likely soon. I want volunteers to line up at the right end of
the auditorium, down in the staging area. Soldiers, return to your
superiors for orders.” His words were rushed and his movements
frantic.

“This could be our last stand.” His words
echoed. “We now know why they are here, we are food to them, and we
can guess why they are still here, using our planet as a training
ground, while they weed out those of us who remain. I ask you . . .
I ask you to remember, remember those who you are fighting for,
remember those who have been taken, and those who have died.
Remember our strength, our perseverance, and our intelligence; and
the very thing that makes us human, the core of our species . . .
remember our love.

“Remember these things in the coming
darkness, and know that we stand united: a unit of anger fueled by
the will to survive. Stand strong, stand composed, stand as
one.”

A wave of HOOAH thundered in the auditorium.
The end of his speech penetrated the very hearts of his soldiers.
Blood boiling, the soldiers were moved to a state of charged
preparation, awaiting the enclosing noose with determination in
their eyes.

His speech moved me too, somehow, some way
unbeknownst to my mind, as my blood was charged with energy, and I
was ready to unleash my fury at the alions.

The room became busy with movement, with
soldiers running out, and civilians running down to the staging
area.

I turned to Burnhammer. “You should go
enlist,” she said. “Both of you.”

“We need to get to Pasadena,” I blurted.

She eyed me curiously. “Pasadena, why
Pasadena?”

“We need to get to NASA’s Jet Propulsion
Lab.” A plan formulated in my head. If the end was near for all,
then it didn’t matter if we died aboard an alion ship; all that
mattered was that we gave it a shot. “We know that they were
working on unmanned space fighters there, and we could try to use
them to board the International Space Station to fire up the
Planetary Defense Network. The whole system is offline.”

“We would also have to power up a Solar
Station,” she remarked. “And how do you know they were working on
space fighters there?”

“Jacob, the one we lost in Portland, he told
us his father was on the project. And no, the Space Station has its
own solar panels, remember?”

She paused and hung her head, searching her
mind. “I’ll bring the plan to my commander, this has to be taken to
the general.”

I grabbed her arm as she jumped to her feet.
“There’s no time.”

“If you want this plan to succeed, then
there’s time,” she replied. “Go back to your quarters for now. I’ll
come for you as soon as I have word.”

I frowned. Tortilla and I left the
auditorium, but before we rounded the corner of the door, I saw the
line of volunteers; it wound around to the back, and back down an
aisle. Hundreds wanted to fight. I gauged 4/5 of the civilians that
had sat in the audience now waited to enlist.

Knocks rapped our apartment door thirty
minutes later. Burnhammer smiled as I swung it open. “Approved,”
she said. “They didn’t want you two to come at first, but I argued
in your favor since it was your plan. You can take the little ones
to the care center, they will be safer there.”

I nodded. I had already explained the
situation to the twins. Amanda ardently protested being left out.
Jane didn’t want to part ways either, but she also didn’t want us
to leave the facility. “Lead the way,” I said. We had everything
packed and ready to go. I brought nothing for a long journey, as I
hoped they would give us transportation.

We dropped the twins off at the care center.
Jane sobbed helplessly. Amanda screamed for us not to exclude her,
yelling, “I’m old enough! I’m old enough!” A bulky guard stopped
them at the door.

“Since we do not know if the unmanned
fighters have room for passengers, the plan has been altered;
instead, we are going to use them to strike at the ship above
L.A.,” Burnhammer informed us of the modification.

“Jacob seemed to think that a person could
fit in one,” Tortilla, who hadn’t spoken much since the meeting,
chimed in. “If they can fit people, what then?”

“Then we are to proceed with your original
plan,” she said. “But that’s a big
if
.”

We raced down a long corridor to an
elevator. Up we went. Burnhammer brought us to an armory three
times the size of the apartment they had given us. Several
different types of guns were neatly racked along the walls, and on
tall, wide shelves on wheels in the middle of the room. All of it
was orderly. She found Tortilla a shotgun and spare bullets. “400
RPMs and no recoil,” she boasted. Then she asked if I had liked the
submachine gun she had given me before. I nodded, and she handed me
two. For her own hands, she grabbed an assault rifle with Barrett
M968 imprinted above the magazine box. She also grabbed a shorter
gun similar to her assault rifle. “It’s called a Personal Defense
Weapon, shorter and lighter than a standard assault rifle, but it
keeps up the range. Good for cramped situations.”

After we loaded up on weapons, which
outnumbered people ten to one, if not by more, she led us to a
crate stocked full of military clothing: Vests, jackets, pants,
boots, belts, and everything else. “These are part of the DS45
uniform, adopted three years ago. It’s called Dragon Scale. Trust
me, it will save your life.”

“From 25-centimeter teeth that can exert a
few thousand kilograms of pressure?” Tortilla asked, guessing about
the power of the alion’s jaws.

Burnhammer chuckled. “No, probably not from
that. But maybe a few of those black bullets they shoot.”

We nodded, then dressed, covering ourselves
in the lightweight armored-clothing. The clothes fit over our
regular clothes, still light and somewhat breathable with both sets
on. Burnhammer led us to another hangar, where the entire 2nd
platoon geared up and assembled by three jeeps. The head of the
platoon, Lieutenant Laffrado, greeted us when Burnhammer scooted us
in his direction.

“I’ve heard you two have made quite the
addition to Henderson’s squad,” Laffrado said. “Well, good, in
these times we need capable additions. We have no time to train
you, just do as you’re told, and for God’s sakes, don’t shoot any
of my soldiers. Are we clear?”

I looked up at the lieutenant. He was a
tall, wiry man. He looked strong, but not as crazy hulky as some of
the other soldiers we had seen. “Yes, sir,” I replied. Tortilla
followed up with a yes sir of his own.

“Good, good.” Laffrado smiled and waved some
laggers over. “Burnhammer will keep you informed and under her
guard. She’s one of the finest young corporals I’ve seen, so know
that you’re in good hands.”

Henderson, along with Loritz and another
squad leader, joined Laffrado, discussing the route we should take
to the JPL. “Shadow Stalkers!” Laffrado yelled. “Gather round.” He
waved his men in close. “You know the mission by now, we have to
get to NASA’s JPL. We’ll be taking two scientists with us, and two
17-year-olds, who have fought with the 3rd squad already. Our route
is simple, a straight shot down the main road to 210, and we’ll
find our exit about 48 klicks west after we hit the highway. We’re
ten down from our usual 31, but we’re strong and determined, so
let’s get the job done. HOOAH!”

The platoon thundered HOOAH back at
Laffrado.

As the platoon loaded up the jeeps, two
women strolled up with computer gear and other gadgets. The taller
one with long black hair walked up to us with a smile. “You’re not
soldiers,” she observed. “You must be the two that devised the
plan. It is nice to meet you. I am Doctor Strafford, and this is my
associate, Doctor Sutton.” She offered her slim hand to us.

I shook and released. Dr. Sutton made her
way over, but did not offer her hand, and she spoke nothing to us.
Her shorter brown hair curled in a frizzy mane. Her eyes were cold
and tired, as if only awake because of the graces of the coffee
bean. The two were loaded up in the first jeep a second later.

Suddenly a siren broke our silence. “They’re
here,” Laffrado shouted. “Goddammit. Hold on.” He ran off into the
main yard. He returned a moment later. “An army of the alien
bastards has been sighted making their way up the main road, so we
can’t go that way. We’ll have to take the back roads that connect
to highway 2, then make our way west from there. It joins back up
with 210 near the JPL exit.” He explained the rest of the details
to his platoon, then dismissed them to their vehicles.

Tortilla and I followed Burnhammer into the
second jeep. The vehicles ran without making a sound; their fake
engine noises must have been disabled. The platoon rolled out into
the main yard. Giant howitzers were lined up a few meters from the
compound wall. Missile launchers were parted behind the howitzers.
Everywhere massive guns were prepped for the coming onslaught.
Soldiers gathered civilians in an empty hangar across the yard. I
could see the fear in their trembling bodies. They looked just like
me.

The remote-controlled helicopters flew in
and out of the compound. Soldiers ran from one building to another,
out into the main yard, and around the giant guns; they were
hurrying back and forth in every direction, near chaotic, as they
primed all possible weapons and secured all possible vulnerable
points.

We turned left, heading towards the
northeast section of the compound, around the mountain entrance. We
stopped as the driver of the first jeep handed a soldier guarding
the gate a green slip of paper. They saluted each other and we were
on our way as the gate parted.

Trees began to blur as we zipped down the
rugged road. I was bouncing all over the place, using my seatbelt
and the door to brace my movements.

Then I saw a yellow ball drop from the
sky.

An instant later, the first jeep was blown
from the road in a ball of fire. The trees around us ignited in a
sea of red and yellow. The heat pressed upon us as yellow bombs
exploded all around.

Tortilla grabbed my arm. Our eyes locked. “I
love you,” he yelled above the crackling flames. “I love you.”

The words scared me, scared me more than I
had ever been scared in my entire life. It meant it was the end. I
could barely see him with my blurry vision, but I reached out and
touched his face. “I love you . . .”

The front of the jeep caught fire and
exploded, sending the vehicle to its side. As the red and yellow
that pierced my vision turned to black, I heard the screams of
soldiers, and the repeated cry of, “NO!”

Then I heard nothing but the crackle of
death.

Darrel

A
s the swiping claws
plunged at me, I watched the last black globe I had fired, now
trapped within the blue suspension field. No lightning bolts struck
the bullet. Unstopped, it approached the edge of the cloud at
almost a crawl.