As for Sheila Evans, the more people joined the estate, the more she withdrew.
The calendar came to October 6 ^ th.
– Trevor Stone, Nina Forest, and Danny Washburn undertook the glamorous mission of siphoning gas from abandoned vehicles. They drove a Humvee filled with fuel containers as well as the obligatory rubber hose. Trevor also brought a healthy dose of fuel stabilizer.
Despite Nina’s grumbling, their mission bore fruit: nearly fifty gallons of gasoline crammed into the cargo hold of the Hummer even before they arrived at the crowded parking lot of a small strip mall.
That mall sat dead center in a convoluted starfish-shaped intersection in Shavertown, with each fin a different rural road. In between those fins rested a handful of country homes, a wide-open field, and the modern "Shavertown" high school (home of the "Mountaineers!"). In the distance stretched rolling, forested hills.
Twenty-plus cars sat dormant in the parking lot. Trevor pitied the poor bastards who, on the day of reckoning, met their fate running errands to the drug store, Radio Shack, or the bank that sat on its own island away from the other shops. Of course, he sympathized with those caught at "Gertrude Hawke Chocolates."
They parked the Humvee amidst the derelict vehicles and exited, each armed with an assault rifle and an empty gas can.
Trevor had not brought any K9s; he wanted cargo space for gas containers. Besides, at only three miles from the estate, long-range K9 patrols went through that area every other day.
The trio crossed the parking lot unfazed by a charred chunk of human body or the skeletal remains of a horse-sized alien animal. Either the smell of death and decay had faded or their noses grew accustomed.
"This is what saving humanity is all about?" Washburn asked with both hands in the pockets of a denim jacket to keep a cold breeze at bay. While still underweight, Danny no longer looked emaciated after spending most of his first day gorging. "What do you guys do for fun?"
For the first time, Trevor heard Nina joke and she did it perfectly deadpan.
"Today’s Tuesday, right? Tuesday is orgy night."
"It’s Wednesday," Danny sounded unduly optimistic.
"Oh well, you missed it."
"Shit. Just my luck."
Trevor rolled his eyes. He would have been happy to hear Nina make with the sarcasm except he sensed her tone: she belittled. She was not making a joke; she felt it all was a joke.
Washburn, on the other hand, jumped into the spirit of things right off the bat. Trevor believed Danny a solid addition to the group despite his warped sense of humor.
Of course, when he thought about "solid additions" he also thought of the opposite. In the last day, Trevor had seen Sheila Evans once: sitting in a dark corner of the dining room eating breakfast. He did not know how she would cope when Sal opened his kitchen in the basement of a nearby Methodist church. She would actually need to leave the mansion in order to eat.
The three scavengers approached an overturned Dodge Ram truck. Trevor opened a gas can while Washburn prepared the rubber hose.
Without warning, the under carriage of the vehicle erupted into flames. A crackling sound accompanied a wave of intense heat. Trevor stumbled away from the surprise inferno.
A burst of weapons fire from his left.
Nina…Nina is firing toward the strip mall.
Trevor shook his head to clear the spots from his eyes. Shell casings flew from Nina’s gun; Danny dropped to a knee with a hand on his head where the flash fire had singed his scalp.
We are under attack.
He un-slung his M4 and followed Nina’s aim.
As his mind re-focused, he realized his error: they should have secured the shopping area first. Aliens charged from the stores there. They were organized and armed.
Trevor’s reeling mind thought of them as platypuses because of big duckbills. They also sported two muscular arms and wobbled on three legs. They would have been humorous looking, like some bad cartoon aliens on Space Ghost… would have been funny if not for balls of plasma spitting from weapons resembling a cross between a musket and a Super Soaker squirt gun.
He hoisted Danny to his feet with one arm and ordered, "Fall back, fall back!"
They knew ‘fall back’ did not mean run for the Humvee. The right flank of the platypus-things cut off that avenue of escape.
Plasma flew over their heads. Nina’s marksmanship knocked down two of the attackers but more appeared. There must have been a dozen in the stores.
They retreated into the bank building through a smashed plate glass window. Nina flipped over a desk for cover.
"This is just great," she moaned and squeezed a three-round burst toward the enemy.
The attackers did not pursue into the building. Instead, they formed a line outside, firing pot shots from behind parked cars.
"I don’t get it," Trevor said. "This area has been empty. The patrols didn’t find anything."
"Look, your patrols screwed up!" Nina's angry roar bellied her meek demeanor.
A chaotic hail of enemy bolts blasted into the lobby smashing what remained of the windows and leaving smoking black holes wherever they hit. The heat from the fiery plasma warmed the lobby, threatening to ignite a fire.
Danny Washburn mumbled curses as he dealt with a second-degree burn on his forehead. However, he could still fight despite the pain.
Trevor produced a radio from his utility belt. He had to shout above the firefight.
"Home plate, come in, this is left field!"
"Oh man," Washburn grinned. "Did you think that one up?"
"We need assistance!" Trevor radioed. "We’re at the Shavertown mall by the high school! Need immediate assistance! Under fire!"
Static.
Nina observed the platypus’ lack of assault with the frustration of a trapped animal awaiting the predator’s pounce: "Why aren’t they moving in? What are they waiting for?"
Another bolt, then another, whizzed by. A framed picture above the vacant loan officer’s desk fell and shattered.
"Wait a second," Trevor said. "I've got a bad feeling. Let me check something."
He crawled toward the far side of the lobby as plasma shots streaked overhead. The windows on that side afforded a view across one ‘fin’ of the intersection toward the large field. At the end of that field stood a tree line…and a row of figures: maybe fifty from what he could see. Nearly a mile away but marching forward. No, wobbling forward.
"Damn!"
"What? What is it?" Washburn shouted between bursts of fire.
"That’s why the patrols didn’t catch their scent!" Trevor explained as he crawled back. "Because they weren’t here yesterday!"
"What are you saying?" Nina yanked free an expended magazine.
A bolt of energy exploded the edge of the toppled desk into splinters.
"These ones are a scouting party!"
Nina fit a new magazine in her rifle, slapped the bolt closed, popped her head above the barricade, let fly a series of bullets, and then ducked behind their tenuous cover again.
"And how do you know that?"
Track lighting crashed to the floor behind the teller stations raising a cloud of dust.
Trevor told her, "Because the rest of their army is about five minutes away."
Nina shouted, "Oh, this is just great! I knew this shit would happen! I knew it!"
Trevor spoke with a commander’s voice: "Cowboy up, soldier! I don’t need fighters who lose it at the first sign of trouble!"
Her icy blue eyes widened. Nina mumbled something, popped up again, took aim at the scouting party cornering them, and plugged one of the things above its beak.