Chapter 2:
Walters and I drove to the local station which was on Rivera and 5th street, home of the 23rd Division. Our station which was the Eighth Precinct was four miles away but dispatch said head to the nearest station and with the rate of accidents and traffic building up, I doubted we would even make it there anyway. It was pure pandemonium on the streets and I couldn't blame them if what we'd heard on the radio was true. We got stopped on Eighth Street by a huge traffic jam.
Traffic jam wasn't the word for what we encountered; it was more like chaos incarnate. If we weren't pressed for time, we would've had to go out and do traffic duty to help alleviate the buildup. I think that's every cop's least favorite job. Soon the traffic just got too bad and we were forced to stop. Even with the roof fired up it didn't matter, we weren't going anywhere.
"We should get out and try to see what we can do about this." I said to my partner. He was reluctant but nodded in agreement. We got out of the car, but didn't go far from it. The sounds of horns honking and people screaming their heads off threatened to overwhelm my senses. I'd seen madness like this before but from the other side of the badge when I was a kid during the L.A. riots. "Please everybody, calm down!" I shouted, waving my hands in a placating gesture. "Please return to your cars and stay calm. Whatever this mess is, we'll get it sorted out soon."
The whole time I was feeling a nice steady mix of apprehension, terror and excitement. I could feel the adrenaline singing through my veins, underscoring the fear and doubt that I felt deep in my guts. I hadn't truly been under serious pressure yet and I hoped I'd measure up. In the academy, they taught us when we were about to enter a stressful situation, try not to worry, the training would automatically kick in. I sure hoped it did.
As if to accompany the mess on the road, the radio screamed even louder. Walters had turned it down because the chatter was way too much to sort out but now the frenzied noise on the radio changed into shouts of terror. Even through the din of the shouting and honking we both heard it. My partner turned it up so we could hear what was going on. "Get away, return fire, Aaaaahh!" Gunfire and agonized screams blared out of the speaker while Walters and I looked at each other with a mutual expression of uncertainty.
Hearing my brother officers scream out like that did no favors for my current state of morale. I would've bet my next paycheck Walters wasn't feeling too good either. We were too engrossed in the radio to see what was going on but a rush of people running by the squad car caught our attention. "What the fuck" my partner started to say as we got pinned in by a stampede of panicked people.
A fireball like something out of a movie, flared up not too far from us. The sound and sudden flash of light made me flinch and reflexively, I went for my pistol. When I thought about it, it was nice to see that some of the training did automatically kick in. "They're here…" Walters said in a voice that sounded like it was a hundred miles away. I looked at him, hoping he would know what to do next. My hands shook and I did my best to steady them with no luck.
Though he was slightly portly and balding with brown hair slowly turning gray, Walters could move when he wanted to. His pale cheeks reddened with intensity and he went for the twelve gauge Mossberg shotgun sitting in the center console of our squad car. Meanwhile, I thumbed the safety off my Beretta and checked to make sure a round was chambered. "Whatever is coming, get ready." Walters said as he pumped the shotgun.
"Shouldn't we be trying to….I dunno!" I said in fearful frustration. I really didn't know what we were supposed to be doing and Walters telling me to get ready, didn't exactly give me a coherent game plan to follow.
Not that it mattered because streams of... I don't know what you'd call it, tracers I guess, maybe alien space lasers, flew in our direction. Instinctively, I hit the ground while screaming in terror; this was the first time i'd ever been shot at and I think it was a minor miracle that I didn't piss myself. Pieces of our squad car showered onto me like a molten rain. The sounds of the tracers slamming into our vehicle reminded me of rain hitting a tin roof.
"Move it, kid!" Walters yelled as he yanked me onto my feet by my collar. My legs dangled like over-stretched rubber-bands at first, but when a tracer zipped by my ear, they started moving of their own volition. Out of the corners of my eyes, I could see people dropping when they got hit by the enemy fire. I did my best to tune it out while I selfishly thought of my own survival. Still, enough training kicked in to prevent me from blindly fire my weapon in fear of hitting a civilian.
Scurrying into the alleyway of a Bank of America building, we managed to get behind cover; it would have been nice to catch our breath too but we should have been so lucky. Walters and I returned fire at the invaders; I found myself wishing I had something a little more substantial than my Beretta.
We got our first look at the invaders. Even if the air wasn't hazy with smoke, the aliens would still have been weird looking. They were tall, gangly, and bipedal. Their heads had a weird, sideways oval shape to them; I couldn't tell if that was their actual heads or if they were wearing helmets of some sort. I couldn't discern any facial features of note. On their right hands were their deadly weapons that sprayed ahniliation and didn't seem to need reloading.
"Reloading!" Walters yelled as he hugged the wall he was shooting from and began shoving shells into the shotgun. Glancing at Walters, I was suddenly jealous of the aliens endless supply of ammunition.
"Got it!" I replied and squeezed off a few shots. My shots jerked an incoming alien backward but didn't put it down. In response it sprayed those deadly tracers at me, causing me to get behind my sparse piece of cover. I could hear and partially feel the impacts of the alien shots. I glanced back around and again returned fire at my same target, frustrated that I couldn't kill it.
The alien I was firing at went down, coinciding with the boom from Walters' shotgun. "Nice!" I yelled as I ejected the empty magazine from my pistol and fiddled with sliding in a fresh one. Walters merely grinned at me and kept firing.
There was a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye and my body reacted of its own accord. Somehow, an alien flanked us and began firing before I could yell out a warning to my partner. Walters went down in a spray of alien fire while simultaneously I emptied my pistol into the foe. This time, something I shot went down.
For a moment, there was a pause as if time had merely stopped. I glanced at the dead alien and then to Walters who was gurgling blood. As much I wanted to move, I found that I couldn't; fear gripped my brain and my insides. The moment passed and I dashed to my downed partner. One look at him and I knew that there was nothing I could do for him. "Oh God...Oh God..." was all I could manage to croak out.
In the movies, deaths are almost always dramatic. Walters' death was nothing of the sort. A moment after I uttered my last "Oh God," he died with a cough that sprayed blood all over me. The screams and the death that the aliens were handing out were muted as my mind raced in a thousand directions. Somewhere in that maelstrom of thought there was one fundamental truth, I couldn't stay.
"I'm sorry" I said as I picked up the shotgun and holstered my pistol. I took off in a sprint down the alley. Sweat poured into my eyes as I ran; I figured I beat my best time at the academy at that moment. I managed to get two blocks without somehow encountering another squad of aliens. What greeted me wasn't much better.
An image fresh out of the worst of apocalyptic imaginings stretched in front of me. Corpses lay strewn in the street, punctuated by the burning of cars and buildings. The thickness of the smoke in the air almost choked me, which was an impressive feat considering L.A.'s legendary smog. My lungs burned from a combination of my running and the smoke and I coughed.
Among the corpses was a mixture of civilians, police, firefighters and soldiers. The scene was too much for me and it nearly drove me insane. The only thing that kept me from breaking down then and there was the familiar whining sound of the alien weapons. With a startled yell, I dove behind a burning car as the shots thudded against it. I came face to face with a man with half of his head blown off and it took everything I had not to retch at that moment.
My fear and confusion turned to anger in that moment and I stood up, firing the shotgun. The anger passed as I realized that I was outgunned. I began to sprint in a random direction; anywhere would have been better than were I was at. In my daze, I didn't realize where I was heading until the very last second when my vision cleared enough to see that I was about to ram headfirst into the plate glass facade of a clothing store. I barely had time to put my arms in front of my face and scream.
Unlike the movies, crashing through glass hurts. It hurts like hell. The sound was unexpectedly loud and rang in my ears as I sailed through the window and slid across the carpeted floor. I lay there what seemed like eternity, stunned. Pain wracked my entire body and I could feel my forearms leaking blood. I tried to take a breath but found that I couldn't; the wind was definitely knocked out of me. It took a few gasps before I could finally breathe again.
Slowly I crawled to my belly, trying to get to my feet. When my forearms made contact with the ground, the stinging of my cuts made me yelp. Fortunately, the pain spurred me on to get to my feet. Limping, I made my way from my landing place and to the back of the store. The only light in the place was from the one I created with my epic entrance. It was enough to see where I was going but even still, from the shock I clumsily knocked over a mannequin or two.
From behind me, I could hear an alien make its way through the broken window. I whirled around and pumped out two shots, center-mass. At this close range, my shotgun had much more impact than when Walters and I were making our stand earlier. The alien staggered backward and fell to the ground, unmoving. I continued to limp until I made my way to the emergency exit of the place.
Never breaking my awkward stride, I got out of the clothing store and into another alley. I feared my panting and the trail of blood that I was leaving would make it easy for the enemy to track me. To my right, there was a door that was seemingly unlocked. I didn't know where it led and I didn't care, I just hoped it was open. Sure enough, the door opened with a twist of the knob and I staggered in.
Closing the door behind me gently so as to not give up my position anymore than I had to, I stumbled away from it. The room was dark and I tripped over something, nearly falling. It was at that moment that I remembered I still had my gunbelt on complete with my handcuffs, mace, collapsible baton and a mini-maglight. I fumbled for the light, my hands slippery with blood. It took two tries before I managed to get it in my hand; the pain from my wounds stung from the effort.
I slung the shotgun behind my back and drew my pistol. Placing the light under the pistol as how I was taught back at the academy, I shined it around to take a look at my surroundings. I was in some sort of storeroom. I looked down and saw that it was a box that I had tripped over. With a deprecating grin, I stepped over it and made my way through the room.
Lucky for me that there was no sign of pursuit; the door hadn't burst in and I wasn't filled with alien lead or whatever it was they were using. I tried to catch my breath but the adrenaline in my veins was still singing and my breath came out in ragged gasps. "Okay Charlie, so far so good. You're doing good." I whispered to myself trying to build my confidence.
There was the tell-tale sound of movement to my right, the scratching sound of a foot on the floor. I whirled around to find myself staring down the barrel of an automatic rifle. "Don't move!" I and whoever was holding the rifle yelled, simultaneously.
Though the light was bright, the person behind the rifle didn't flinch and I got a good look at the person. To my surprise, it was woman in the uniform of a Marine. She was dressed in her full "battle rattle" and her hands shook slightly as she trained her weapon on me. I don't think her hands trembled more than mine though.
"Okay, we're both human, not alien so that's something." I began. "So maybe we shouldn't shoot each other. How does that sound to you?"
She nodded slightly but I noticed that she didn't lower her weapon, neither did I. I had to respect that. Despite everything that was going on, maybe because of it, it was stupid to let your guard down.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Corporal Grace Bordeaux, United States Marine Corps. Okay, your turn."
"Officer Charles Jones, L.A.P.D., nice to meet you. Now that, that's out of the way, how about we lower our weapons?"
Corporal Bordeaux nodded. "Sounds good to me, as long as you get that goddamned light out of my eyes."
I knew trust had to start somewhere so I "safed" my weapon and holstered it, lowering my light at the same time. She lowered her rifled and leaned against the wall with a sigh of what sounded like to me, relief. I replied in kind with my own sigh.
"So, what brings you to the neighborhood?" she said. "Investigating a noise complaint?"
Smartass. I thought as I leaned against the wall. Still, I had to chuckle and it felt like a million years since I did that. It felt good. I knew right then and there that we were going to get along. That was if we lived long enough.
