Beyond Armageddon: Book 02 - Empire (25 page)

They believed the aliens held the hostages at the Mt. Lebanon Chapel, a historic old house of worship in a clearing not far from the banks of the creek.

           
To get there, Nina would have to cut through the tree line of the creek buffer, follow a wooded walking path, and find the perimeter fence of the graveyard to the south of the chapel. From there they would reconnoiter the area to ascertain the situation.

           
While the specifics might change, the strategy would remain simple: kill the Mutants, free the captives.

           
As for those Mutants, they occupied a middle ground between the organized extraterrestrial armies conquering land and enslaving humans—like the Hivvans—and animal life, both predators and prey, now a part of Earth’s ecosystem.

           
In appearance, Mutants were bipedal humanoids. Oversized mouths filled with jagged teeth and a forked tongue dominated their oval heads. A pair of small eyes sat above round nostrils

           
As for disposition, Mutants acted something akin to a motorcycle gang, wreaking chaotic destruction wherever they rode on their speedy hovercraft bikes. They wore clothing resembling leather and carried a variety of blunt and edged weapons as well as a firearm similar in function to an 18
^th
century flintlock pistol.

In the five years since the aliens arrived on Earth, Nina came to know that Mutants preferred to avoid battle. Instead, they employed the tactics of terror: harassment, torment, and murder. As if they lived to inflict suffering.

In that regard, their taking of hostages felt out of character, as did their decision to leave a survivor to dictate terms. For that matter, just trying to communicate came as a surprise, she knew of no other such instances.

Nina guessed that, perhaps, The Empire’s reputation preceded it into
Wilmington
, putting such a fright into the bastards that they grew desperate.

According to the people of
Wrightsville
Beach
, a pack of these Mutants happened upon a group of kids from the town’s orphanage taking part in a ‘learn to fish’ outing. They gathered them into a school bus and forced it to the gardens, leaving behind a terrified eight year old with terms: safe passage out of the city.

As her team approached the Bradley Creek Overlook, the Mutants surprised Nina yet again; she spied two sentries keeping watch. A more organized and more thoughtful move than she expected from these fiends.

           
On the other hand, it came as no surprise to Nina to see that the two sentries were not very alert. They shuffled about kicking at the wooden slats, swatting flies, and occasionally shoving each other; doing just about anything other than watching for threats.

           
The wooden overlook included a walkway and a viewing patio designed to observe the tidal creek ecosystem without disturbing it. Using binoculars, Nina scanned the forest and shrubs around the overlook for any hidden guards. She saw nothing.

           
“Um, Cap, we going to do something about these guys? It’s a long way ‘round,” Carl Bly whispered as the four humans and their K9 compliment lay prone under cover of heavy brush.

           
Satisfied no other surprises waited, she said, “Okay look, we snipe them.”

           
Nina produced a scoped M4 and attached a sound suppressor.

           
“Vince, you take the one on the left, I got the one on the right.”

           
Vince Caesar followed suite, silencer and all.

           
“On three,” Nina commanded. “One…two…”

Bullets flew across the open terrain without a sound. Both shots found their mark. Both targets dropped, thudding to the floorboards.

           
Nina’s team waited. No sound of alarm came.

“Pack it up, let’s go.”

           
The Dark Wolves crossed the open terrain to the darkness under the overlook.

           
Oliver Maddock and Carl Bly—with a boost from the other two—scaled the wooden structure and threw the dead enemy bodies over the railing into brush.

           
With the first obstacle overcome, the Dark Wolves proceeded with their mission…

…Built in 1835, the Mt. Lebanon Chapel was a small white wooden building one-story tall with a sharply pointed roof, a short steeple, and rows of large stately windows.

A dirt and gravel field separated the chapel from the forest. A road cut a tunnel through the woodlands as it headed away from the area but an empty yellow school bus blocked that path.

           
In front of the chapel, Nina saw a large bell atop a wooden post that looked at home on the grounds of the quaint church.

On the other hand, she saw something that did not match the surroundings: a Mutant refueling station in the form of a tall sharp pillar that reminded her of a miniature version of the
Washington
monument. Several unattended Mutant hoverbikes floated at its base.

           
One adult man and eight children sat huddled on the front steps of the chapel wearing the same type of patchwork clothing Nina had seen on the spokesman for the
Wrightsville
Beach
survivors.

Whimpers came from the children as they clung together; their shoulders slumped in what had to be exhaustion from hours of terror. For his part, the man sat with his arms on his knees and his head slung low.

Nina expected to find two adult women with the group but did not see them. As bloodstained Mutants moved periodically in and out of the chapel, she guessed the worst.

She counted four of the aliens loafing around the perimeter and occasionally stopping to glare at the captives. More came in and out of the chapel to the extent that tracking individuals for an accurate count proved difficult. She guessed more waited inside.

The Mutants sported a variety of weapons. Two of the perimeter guards carried flintlocks capable of punching through the toughest human body armor. Another carried a spiked club and the fourth an axe. She noted one particularly large Mutant enter the church with a pair of nasty-looking swords strapped to its back.

In addition to the guards, two unarmed Mutants stood by the refueling station, perhaps repairing or operating it in some fashion.

She split the team, sending Vince Caesar to circle around to the bus where he would wait to extract the hostages, and Oliver and Carl to points around the perimeter. Nina kept the two hounds with her.

She took a deep breath, and then sent the two Grenadiers running out of the woods directly for one of the Mutants armed with a flintlock. It heard the fast
pat-pat
of the dogs’ feet and turned in time to see them racing at him. It panicked and fired its flintlock wildly, hitting nothing but distant treetops.

The dogs dragged the Mutant down with bone-crunching bites and raking claws.

Oliver Maddock bolted from cover and knifed the guard on the far side of the chapel. Carl Bly fired his assault rifle, dropping a third guard and Nina did the same, killing the fourth.

The unarmed bad guys manning the refueling station hurried for the woods like scared rabbits. Nina pointed in their direction and ordered the hounds to, “pursue and kill,” which they did.

Maddock and Bly moved to the front stairs as the startled hostages panicked and tried to scatter, despite their male chaperon attempting to keep them together.
Nina
Forest
stayed further away and covered the scene with keen eyes scanning for any surprises.

With a throaty grumble, the school bus came to life and pulled to the chapel. Vince Caesar, behind the wheel, motioned for the hostages to get in but they stood and gawked, stunned into inaction.

The chapel’s front doors opened and a trio of Mutants ran out with flintlocks drawn.

Maddock and Bly nailed all three in a series of bursts, their shots whizzing by the ears of shell-shocked hostages.

The bullets and the Mutants accomplished what Caesar could not: the children and their chaperon raced for the open doors of the school bus. However, one eleven year old girl did not make it. The last Mutant—the big one with dual swords—grabbed her in a hug and retreated into the church closing the front door behind.

Nina ordered her team, “Get them on the bus! Do it!”

With her M4 held high, she entered the building.

Two rows of pews sat between white walls with a thin aisle down the center. At the far end of the room stood the altar with a low wooden banister ahead of it and podiums to either side.

Blobs of gore—the remains of the Mutants’ most recent victims—lay scattered about.

She entered the church in hot pursuit and saw only the eleven-year-old blond girl standing in the middle of the center aisle by herself.

Her battlefield instincts sensed the attack a fraction of an instant before her eyes saw the flicker of a shadow. The creature struck from above, having sat in ambush on a perch atop the front door.

One of its two swords swung down as it jumped. Nina held her rifle aloft to block the strike. The Mutant’s double-edged weapon hammered into the composite barrel, saving Nina’s life but bending the rifle and sending her staggering backwards.

The Mutant landed on the floor in two heavy thumps and quickly slammed shut the front door, locking out any reinforcements

The vile creature stared along the aisle at Nina and used its massive maw to present a disgustingly wide smile. Its forked tongue slithered along its teeth in anticipation of another kill.

Nina examined her carbine. The bent barrel turned it from a powerful high-tech weapon into a fancy-looking club.

The Mutant drew its second sword and charged. Both of the deadly weapons swung at Nina. Her only defense was the broken frame of the M4.

The little girl dove between the pews as Nina backed away while desperately blocking two clumsy swings by her opponent. The M4 bent and warped even more—its usefulness as a club neared its end.

To her advantage, the Mutant did not fight like a skilled swordsman. It wielded the blades as if they were sharp clubs. No finesse. No style. Perhaps it had stolen the weapons from some unfortunate soul or alien but did not know how to use the blades properly.

Skilled or not, the Mutant aimed to split her in halves. It raised both blades high and hacked down. She held the deformed rifle up and blocked both blows in unison. With the swords against the rifle, the monster tried to out-muscle her, pushing to drive her to her knees.

Nina refused to kneel. The creature’s strength could not bend her to its will.

Frustrated, the Mutant changed tactics. In a surprisingly quick move, it pulled one sword away from the rifle and thrust at her. She twisted her hip sideways to dodge the stab. The tip of the sword ripped her pistol holster away and opened a gash in her pant leg. A solitary line of blood drizzled from the exposed flesh.

The Mutant pressed the attack, forcing Nina to retreat several steps. She managed to block one more blow with the broken carbine but the force of the swing knocked the dead rifle from her hands and off through the air.

Nina hopped backwards to avoid two more crescent strikes from her attacker. It smartly used a third weapon—one big booted leg—to kick her in the gut. She went sprawling and sliding along the floor to the base of the wooden banister near the altar.

The Mutant grinned again and closed in.

Nina reached to her utility belt as she staggered to her feet. With a flick of her wrist, a collapsible steel baton extended. She brought it forward barely in time to glance away a strike from one of the swords, but the baton wavered; it would not absorb much punishment.

The Mutant brought its second sword down in an overhead hack.

Nina threw herself over the banister.

Instead of splitting her skull as intended, the sword splintered into the wood of the railing.

Nina slammed her baton against the Mutant’s wrist as it tried to pull the blade free. She felt its bones there break like dry twigs.

The Mutant howled in pain, released the sword, and backed off.

Nina grabbed the weapon.

It was short and surprisingly light, not from a lack of density but perfectly crafted balance.

She never trained in fencing or sword fighting, but she did know how to use nightsticks, batons, and bayonets. Nina relied on that training as she went into battle with a new weapon.

The Mutant regained its composure and raised its remaining sword, but its blade wavered, as if it knew fear.

Nina attacked. Given their preference for easy prey, Mutants were not accustom to facing determined enemies; they preferred sheep.

Nina was a wolf.

It hissed as she sliced its shoulder. It responded, swinging its blade around to take her head off. She ducked and punched the creature’s gut. It felt like hitting a rolled carpet, but she did elicit a grunt of pain from the monster.