Chapter 48 – Closing in
Dozens of infantry caste aliens came charging down the bridge guns blazing, in addition two Wedge ships roared over the horizon to support the assault.
The platoon that had retreated across the bridge crossed over into the hastily set up defenses giving the troops in position a clear line of fire. The Marine line erupted in machine gun and small arm fire. Despite the ferocity the sheer number imbalance meant the aliens steadily pushed forward. One of the Wedge Ships engaged a GPMG position and with fire from its Direct Energy Weapon blew the position up. The loss of firepower encouraged the infantry caste aliens to press their advantage.
The Army engineer desperately tried everything he thought of to detonate the charges on the bridge but nothing happened. "Something's blocking the signal, sir!" he reported. "I can't blow it."
"What are we going to do?" Captain Harvel questioned with a growing note of desperation. "We're boxed in here. Maybe we should have taken the extraction."
"No way, we're going to hold the line," LCol. Ritchie growled. "Push two squads up each side of the bridge to provide flanking fire. We'll envelope them on the descent. Have the main positions support the squads and keep them free from attack. Break out the Stinger missiles we brought and drop those Wedge ships," he ordered. Then raising his voice so the others could here him he added, "Marines, we are going to hold this position and we're going to win."
A new voice joined the encouragement. "Come on guys, we can do this." Doc Adukwu declared in his thick African accent. The Corpsman limped awkwardly along the defensive position bringing extra ammo despite being in obvious pain. The doctor trailing behind him looked concerned but did nothing to stop the determined man.
The Colonel's confidence and Doc's example did the trick. The Marines snapped out of their funk, gritted their teeth and dug in.
Despite the numeric superiority of the attackers they were stacked up along the relatively narrow expanse of the bridge so could only bring minimum fire to bear. With the new platoon in position the Marines, on the other hand, were able to concentrate their considerable firepower into that area holding the attack at bay.
Several blasts from the Wedge ships DEW's caused gaps in the line but they were quickly filled by others though their position became more tenuous. But then one, then two plumes of smokes streaked up towards the hovering enemy ships from the Stinger anti-aircraft launchers. At point-blank rank they couldn't miss and each went down. One of the Wedge ships plowed into the bridge, taking out a score of aliens and the other crashed into the channel around the island.
Unrelenting fire from several M240B GPMGs and a salvo of grenades not only checked the attacker's momentum but actually began to push them back. Without support, progress checked and the Marines having every inch of the descent of the bridge to land zeroed the aliens began to get mowed down. En masse they broke and began to run back towards the other side while those who'd been attacking from landward melted back into the residential area. They'd held.
A cheer went up from the Marine position. Corpsmen went out to attend to the wounded and those still standing took advantage of the opportunity to reload and also slake their thirst from their canteens.
"That was close," Harvel commented, wiping sweat from his eyes.
"Naw," Ritchie countered, holding a handkerchief up to stop the blood from a slight shrapnel wound on his cheek. "We're in a good position and were never really challenged."
Looking out, the officers could see dozens of aliens lying dead on the bridge and dozens more wounded withdrawing back to the safety of Terminal Island.
"We're not going to be able to blow the bridge," Harvel declared, "and I doubt we can retake the other side. Looks like we're stuck in this position."
"Well, we'll just do the best we can," Ritchie answered, looking hard at the Captain.
Harvel could see the steely resolve in his commander's eyes so knew they were in for the long haul. So be it, he thought to himself. If it was going to be easy they wouldn't have called the Marines. "Food should be fine, everyone has rations but water could be a problem," the Captain declared.
Ritchie nodded his head, observing with satisfaction the new determination in the officer's voice. "We'll need to sort that out. Detail some men to search the buildings nearby to see if there's any running water. If not we'll have to get it from the channel and use the purifications tablets."
"Yes sir. I'll get it done," Harvel stated without any hesitation. The man was now in all the way.
"Reporting for duty sir." Doc Adukwu came over to the pair, standing with them a bit wobbly but with doggedness in his eyes.
"Adukwu, you're one crazy mother," LCol Ritchie snorted. "If we get out of this mess I'm putting you in for a Navy Cross." Then taking him by the elbow out of earshot of the others he added, "Thanks for that, by the way. The men needed a morale boost. You did a good thing."
"Thank you sir," Doc replied a bit embarrassed, "but I was only doing my duty."
Refugee Encampment and Military Command Los Angeles rear area, somewhere outside LA
Though still steady, the stream of casualties coming into the hospital had dropped off considerably. Michele hoped this meant things were going better at the front though the snatches of conversation she was able to pick up didn't give her cause for optimism. She looked down at the ring on her finger wondering anew if she'd made the right decision. Then the woman whose life had changed so dramatically the year before began to wonder if Mike was still alive. She might not need to worry about the future as a Marine's wife. She had made a hasty decision, in the passion of the moment. She'd not weighed the cost to her of a husband serving in the military. He was asking her to make a tremendous sacrifice for him. No one would begrudge her for being unable to fulfill that. No one would fault her for not wanting that kind of restriction on her life, the anxiety, worry, questions it would cause.
Then she saw two orderlies carrying out a body bag.
Did that one have a wife? A family? Michele's emotions swirled, unable to lock on a position. Perhaps it was the fatigue of the day or maybe just realization. She felt guilty for thinking such selfish thoughts. Hundreds of thousands of women had husbands serving in the military. Thousands had to face the agony of their death. What made her special?
"Please…please, you need to help me," a woman's frantic voice implored urgently. "He's very sick and if you don't do anything I'm afraid he'll die."
Michele heard the voice and there was something familiar about it but in her fatigued state she couldn't place it. The next voice, regrettably, she could.
"I'm sorry but there's nothing we can do to help you lady," Dr. Chevreau countered coldly. "We're beyond capacity and have no room for civilian sick at this point. Take your baby to a clinic."
"They aren't able to do anything for him and have no supplies," the woman pleaded. "They told me to come here. Please help he can barely breath!"
"We just don't have the time right now to look at non-priority patients. Come back in a couple of days and check to see if we can see you."
With that Dr. Chevreau turned and walked away. The woman tried to follow but an orderly blocked her path.
Michele saw the woman's shoulders slump then begin to contract as sobs wracked her body. The child she carried began to cry pitifully but everyone ignored her. The woman turned around, eyes desperate and wild and Michele recognized her.
It was Kathy Martinez, the widow of the Lieutenant who led the team that rescued her.
Michele was taken back to the previous year, after she'd come back from LA after being rescued. Not knowing whether Mike and the others were alive she'd met Kathy Martinez, the wife of 2Lt. William Martinez, and given her the letter Mike had given her to pass along. They'd talked briefly but Michele had been in such a state of shock from everything that had happened it had been short. She remembered the attractive woman had been pregnant at the time. This had to be the child, 2Lt. Martinez's child. She had to do something.
"Mrs. Martinez?" Michele went over and touched her arm gently.
"Please….please will you help me?" she sobbed, barely able to get the words out. "Please don't let my baby die. He's all I have left."
"I'll do the best I can to help."
"Thank you. Thank you. Wait…I recognize you. Have we met before?"
"Yes, my name is Michele Trantor. Your husband rescued me and my nieces last year."
"You're the one who gave me the letter," the distraught woman confirmed.
"Yes."
The baby cried but it was cut short and contracted as if it couldn't breathe.
"Can you do anything?" Kathy screamed in desperation. "He's going to suffocate."
"I can't but I know someone who can," Michele tried to reassure her.
Taking the woman by the arm Michele led her into the hospital. An orderly attempted to bar their progress but a glare from the determined woman caused him to step aside.
"Kelly! Kelly!" Michele called out to her friend. "You were a pediatrics nurse before all this right? This child is sick. Can you take a look at him, please?"
Kelly's expression hardened for a moment then softened at the sight. Despite the numbing fatigue from the day's relentless activity the compassionate nurse relented. "Sure. Let me see what I can do." The careful nurse took her stethoscope out and listened to the baby's heart then breathing. "What's his name?" she asked kindly continuing the examination.
"William," Kathy answered, "after his father."
Michele winced at the statement, remembering the handsome junior officer who had died so heroically yet tragically at the bridge.
Kelly caught the discomfort of her friend and connected the dots. "Well, he's a beautiful boy." Hanging on to him still she got a serious look on her face. "Your child has a pretty severe case of Bronchiolitis Mrs. Martinez."
Kathy's hand went up to her mouth as she gasped. "Will he be okay though?" she asked, barely able to keep her emotions in check.
"Sure, we can take care of it. We have what we need here to look after him. Don't worry."
The relief of Kathy's face lightened the mood of the group. "Thank you so much. I've been so worried."
Kelly left and returned with a series of medicines which she administered to William then gave instructions on further medication to his mother. "Sit here for a bit," Kelly ordered "to allow him to calm down and the medicine to take over. Then give him these based on these instructions."
"Thank you so much," Kathy gushed, hugging the nurse spontaneously.
"Happy I could help. I need to go," Kelly left.
"Please, can you sit with me for a bit?" Kathy asked Michele.
Michele hesitated knowing there was still much to do but seeing the look of desperation on the woman's face relented. "Sure. I've got some time."
"When I met you I hated you," Kathy declared quietly. "I knew before you gave me the letter and didn't want anything to do with you. I'm sorry…."
Michele took the upset woman's hand. "I understand. I wouldn't want to get that kind of news either. You have nothing to apologize for."
"Do you have anyone in your life?" Kathy asked.
Michele looked at her ring. "Yes, I'm engaged."
"Is he in the military?"
"Yes, he's fighting right now," Michele could barely whisper.
"Then you do know what I mean," Kathy stated with relief. "But I'm sorry also because I lost the opportunity to find out how William died….," her voice dropped off. "I wasn't ready then…maybe I'm still not….but I've heard bits and pieces since then but I'd like to know: how did he die?"
Michele took a deep breath. "He died so that others could live. We were in a desperate place and he gave his life so we could get out. He was a hero."
Kathy choked with emotion and squeezed Michele's hand tightly. "Tell me everything."
For the next half hour Michele went in detail everything that had happened from the time they'd met at the Police station to the time Kathy's husband had detonated the C4 on the bus stopping the alien advance. The woman listened with rapt attention, asking several time for more details. In the end, Kathy Martinez left with a recovering child and a greater sense of peace about what happened to her husband.
Michele watched the woman leave with a sense of peace of her own. In some ways she'd been given closure herself and looked afresh at her relatively new relationship. Sure there was risk, she reminded herself. Mike could be dead right now but she'd also forgotten the upside, the joy of the life she desired with the man she loved. He was a man who could only be the way he was, and therefore more desirable then any other, because he was a Marine. Eyes moist, she thanked God for the reminder of what she had to gain rather then wallowing in what she could lose.
Abandoned industrial complex, somewhere outside Military Command Los Angeles Protective Zone, LA
The trio walked as casually as they could towards the group of buildings known as the Foundry. As they got closer it was obvious people were watching them.
"Walk casually," Raul urged Lt. Langois. "You look like a cop."
The Cajun MP snorted but didn't comment though she loosened her stride up.
"Some of them have guns," Father Alexander suddenly observed. The priest became nervous, wondering if this had been a good idea.
"I told you this was a dangerous place to come," Raul responded. "I told you we need more backup."
"Well it is what it is," Langois commented but the usual confidence seemed to be escaping her. "Too late now, we're committed."
Suddenly things didn't seem so simple. The observation and declaration had a chilling effect on the group.
"So why the change of heart" Langois asked Raul, trying to ease the growing tension as they walked towards the first building.
"Why do you care?" he shot back with a forlorn expression. "You've already judged me and found me guilty."
"Well, are you?" she countered.
"Si, yes…I am guilty of many things," the Mexican replied quietly.
"Well den you condemn yourself. But I ask again, why are helping us here?" Langois pressed.
Raul shared his story as they walked closer. Father Alexander was impressed that the young man didn't embellish or try to make himself sound better. He stuck to what seemed to be the facts.
Lt. Langois listened quietly and while her tone seemed to soften she still held her ground. "Yet despite all dat you still turned to crime to support yourself."
"You don't know what I went through!" he raised his voice.
"I know you had a choice!" Langois shot back. "You think you da only one with a bad story? You chose that path."
"You're right," Raul agreed quietly, hanging his head a bit. "I did. That's why I want to change. That's why I want to help."
The response disarmed the cynical MP. "Maybe there is hope for you. Maybe," she emphasized. "We'll see how this all goes and then talk again."
The conversation had taken them to the edge of the first building. The trio went in from the light of day to the shadows and darkness of the unlit factory office area. Shards of light filtered through dirty broken windows lighting up the dust that swirled around. Though quiet the three knew they weren't alone.
"Hey." A voice challenged them from the dark.
"Who is there?" Raul answered, signaling the others casually to stop.
"It is Viktor, Mr. Santos," a voice with a thick Eastern European accent answered.
"Viktor Krakov," Raul confirmed, trying to keep his voice calm. "What are you doing here?"
"Me? I am always here," the man answered coming out of the shadows with three other men flanking him. Then with a quizzical look on his face he asked, "What are you doing here? We never see you in this place."
"Business Mano."
"Yea, and who are these people?" Krakov asked pointedly, as the others brandished weapons. "They don't look like they belong here."
Si, you're right. They're military," Raul confirmed. Gwen Langois flinched and would have gone for her weapon if not for a look from Father Alexander.
"What?" Krakov raised his voice as one of his confederates raised the MAC-10 he carried. "You pick strange friends Raul," the Russian probed as the group spread out to encircle them.
Gwen Langois' heart beat wildly as she watched not only their avenue of escape eliminated but the gunmen move into solid covering positions. They were completely defenseless. She chided herself for trusting this grease ball. If she was going to go down, it wouldn't be without a fight. The feisty MP prepared to make her move.
"Friends, ha!" Raul chuckled, confidence in his voice. "You think I want to come to this place and leave the comfort of my hacienda? They are business associates. I am looking to make connections to move my product into the military base. These are my contacts. We are working on a deal that's why I needed to come. I don't trust the details of my business to anyone."
"Hmm," Krakov shrugged visibly relaxing causing his men to stand down. "Okay, makes sense. Next time you come back bring me some whisky. The nights are starting to get cold."
"No problem, Mano. I bring you Johnny Walker Blue," Raul chuckled. Then signaling to the others he said, "Come on, vamanos," and they walked past the impromptu checkpoint.
Out of ear shot Raul let out a deep breath. "That was close."
"Thank you Raul. You were brilliant," Father Alexander declared.
"Yes, dat was a good move back there," Langois stated, a bit confused. "You did well to get us past them."
"I told you I could be trusted," Raul shot back. "I can be trusted. I want a new life."
Langois nodded her head in agreement. "You're right. I was wrong about you and I hope you can forgive me. When you do what I do you get cynical...you lose your faith…."
"No problems," Raul cut her off so she didn't have to be more embarrassed then she already seemed. "I wouldn't have trusted me either." Seeing relief on the woman soldier's face made the man happy for some strange reason. "Come on, let's go find Hector now."
They moved deeper in the building coming into contact with a variety of people who seemed to be running from the world for their own reasons. Raul gained confidence with each step, taking charge of the search, asking everyone they met about Hector. Finally they seemed to find the information they sought and moved to another building deeper in the complex.
The trio entered into what had once been a smaller storage area compared to the main industrial room they'd exited. Lit by several candles and a number of flashlights, a generator hummed in another room providing light to several overhead lights. Though dim the group could see a boy lying on a mattress in a corner at the opposite end of the room.
As if sensing the arrival of people who cared Hector turned and saw three people on the opposite side of the room. Straining to see who'd arrived in the low light his heart skipped a beat as he recognized Father Alexander. A squeak of delight came out of the excited boy but he saw the priest raise a finger to his lips to quiet him.
"That's Hector!" Father Alexander said in a low voice. "Let's go get him," the priest added urgently.
"Wait!" Raul cautioned, putting his hand on the arm of the eager clergyman. "We must move cautiously. You two, stay in the shadows. Say nothing!" he urged. "This could get tricky so let me do the talking."
The Mexican man left the others and walked into the brightest light of the room. "Maria!" he called out. "Maria Rincon, where are you?"
"What are you doing here?" the petite woman hissed ominously, coming out of the shadows on the opposite side of the room. "And why have you been asking around here for Hector?"
If the declaration fazed the man he didn't show it. "I need to boy for an operation I have going on," Raul stated smoothly. "A simple job really. I need him only for a day or so. I'll pay well for him."
"What kind of operation?" Maria asked suspiciously.
"That is none of your business woman," Raul snapped. "Remember you work for me."
"Perhaps things have changed," the hard-faced woman responded menacingly. Javier and three other men came out of the shadows to cover the Latino man.
"What's this all about Maria? Are you crazy? Do you know who I am?" Raul tried to intimidate.
"Soon to be a dead man. You and your friends hiding over there in the shadows. I know who's with you. You've brought the priest so you've sold us out and now you're going to die."
Several other armed men came into the room from another door.
"Kill them all," Maria ordered.
Somewhere on Terminal Island, LA
"Keep moving!" Mike rasped out to the others as they bobbed and weaved through a forest of shipping containers. He fired a short burst from his M4A1 sending an alien spinning that had come charging around a corner. The beleaguered Gunnery Sergeant had passed up several good defensible positions to continue moving knowing that if they stopped the aliens trying to pen them in would swarm. Not only would they be unable to hold the position indefinitely but more importantly they wouldn't be able to accomplish their mission.
Despite everything going on he instinctively looked at his wrist watch and realized they were now many hours past the arrival time of the relief column yet there'd been no signs of any reinforcements. Showing the incredible capacity of the mind to multi-task not only did he continue to lead the squad but also processed the implications of what he'd just discovered. There were no signs of relief. Did that mean they were stuck on the other side of the bridge? Did the shield have anything to do with it? Had they even made it? He had neither the time nor the luxury of pondering such things. He needed to find the shield generator and take it out. But how could he do that when they were on the run. The aliens continued to pop in and out of cover taking pot shots but never able to mount a serious attack on the group due to the strength of the Marines concentrated fire. So this boxing match continued of two fighters seeking the advantage over the other.
"Uhnn…" Lockett cried out in pain, stumbling then falling onto the pavement. The African American grabbed his calf and tried to get back to his feet.
"Defensive formation!" Mike ordered urgently. "Harris, buy us some time with the 240!"
As the Marines spread out and increased their fire to keep the aliens hungry for victory at bay Mike went over to Lockett.
"Hit in the leg, Gunny," the Corporal reported through gritted teeth. "Sorry about that."
"Not your fault," Mike countered, ripping open the leg of the wounded man's combat pants. Examining the wound he reported, "Looks like the round went clean through." He then took a field dressing, ripped it in half to dress the wound then the other part he tied tight above the wound.
"I can still move," Lockett declared. "I can still fight. Help me up."
An alien round skipped off the pavement and clipped Mike on the cheek. His hand went up automatically and came back with blood on it. Great, he thought, another scar. Michele's going to love that…oh Michele… he had to push the thought of the woman he may never see again out of his mind because the aliens were massing.
"Marines, we are leaving!" Mike shouted above the increasing fire. "Harris, cut us a path."
The bespectacled Marine and his partner concentrated their fire on an avenue of shipping containers and burned through a belt of ammunition risking overheating the barrel of the gun.
Seeing the impact Mike yelled, "Let's go," and led the way down the path stepping over the bodies of dead aliens. The others followed suit, firing in all directions as they went. Even Lockett kept pace through a combination of determination, fear and adrenaline.
The Marines were able to break out of the alien cordon around them which allowed for some maneuvering. Rather then go the direction they'd been on Mike made a series of right and left turns to try to throw off the pursuit. Though he'd studied the map and aerial photos of the island knowing it inside and out things had been so chaotic he'd lost sense of direction so just went where he felt. He could see an open area to their front and continued to push on. Coming into the open he thought he could see a shimmer of light emanating upwards from what looked like a shipping container but on closer examination was not but in fact some sort of machine.
"Gunny, it's the shield. Let's…" Private Jackson, the number 2 on the GPMG called out but his statement was cut short. Three rounds from an alien machine gun caught the Private in the chest ripping him apart.
They'd found the shield generator.
A platoon of aliens moved into position between the Marines and the objective opening fire and forcing the team back.
Helping Harris drag the dead body of Pte. Jackson, Mike wondered how they would ever be able to reach it.
