Anthony DeCosmo - Empire

Nina added her two cents: “I guess all monsters aren’t created equal.”

The rescued HK squad offered their thanks but a radio call interrupted.

“Overwatch to Boss, you copy?”

Nina unclipped the walkie-talkie from her belt.

“Boss here, go ahead, Overwatch.”

“You know that Stumphide you were looking for…”

…Islands of grass and trees separated the east and west bound lanes of Market Street as it ran spine-like through Wilmington.

A Stumphide straddled one of those islands as it moved along in search of unlucky prey.

The “Stump” came from four legs as thick as trees capable of pulverizing a car-let alone a man-into a pile of scrap. The “Hide” referred to the thick, green leathery skin stretched over a cylinder shaped body.

Two yellow eyes sat menacingly above a crescent maw filled by sharp teeth with wiry fir atop a football-shaped skull. Making matters worse, a dozen short tendrils sprouted from what might be its ‘cheeks’ to grasp prey.

Judging by the tub of fat dangling from this one’s belly, it had enjoyed thinning the heard of Sloths infesting Wilmington.

Nina stood fifty yards from the big monster, watching and waiting for the thing to take notice of her. The creature grabbed a rusting motorcycle with its tendrils, crunched down on the chrome, decided it did not like the taste, and threw the bike aside. At that moment, its yellow eyes looked ahead and saw.

Flanking Nina stood a wall of K9s staring and panting.

The monster and the dog army eyed one another like gunfighters in the old west waiting to draw.

Nina heard the Rottweilers, Dobermans, and Shepherds growl and snarl, their paws scraping the pavement in an anticipation held in check only by the invisible fence of their obedience; waiting for the command.

She gave it.

“Swarm.”

The army of canines ran at full gallop toward the hideous creature capable of splattering any single one of the dogs with a step. Their paws clattered off the pavement as they rolled forward like a flood of claws and fangs. No hesitation. No fear. Nothing other than the desire to follow the master’s command to kill.

They smashed into the Stumphide, first a dozen snouts grabbing and biting, then twenty, then thirty, then more.

It stomped its legs and grabbed with its tendrils, throwing dogs off like rag dolls, their bodies crashed into buildings, the sidewalk, fences, and abandoned cars.

Nevertheless, the dogs charged.

That hideous mouth swallowed a Shepherd whole.

Yet the K9s did not falter.

Its short tendrils strangled a Rottweiler while its massive feet crushed two more.

The Grenadiers concentrated on the tree-trunk-like legs, tearing at them until the flesh cracked and splintered, laying bare muscle and bone.

A gargled howl came from the beast and it stomped with its wounded leg, killing three K9s and crippling another. The dogs tore into the wound, gnawing, tearing, chewing, and clawing.

A mound of Grenadiers-alive and dead-formed around the Stumphide with some actually climbing on their comrades to rip into the face of the monster.

It threw more off, smashed others, but its legs stamped with less power, less enthusiasm.

Finally, as two dozen Grenadiers lay dead on Market Street, the monstrosity collapsed to its side.

With its belly exposed, the creature was doomed.

The K9s enveloped the animal as if they were a school of piranha, ripping and tearing with a ferocity that even gave Nina a chill…

…For the rest of the day, the helicopter circled above relaying information. Human hunters used more heavy weapons to dispatch several larger hostiles including a giant turtle with an insect head, but the K9s were the shock troops.

Battering rams knocked open doors and Grenadiers poured in. They moved along the boulevards and alleyways relentlessly. No battle fatigue, no hesitation, no second thoughts.

Elements of the second column reached and cleared the college campus at the center of town by late afternoon while other elements pushed east toward the coast.

By nightfall, sixty K9s from the first column and half that number from the second died in the invasion, but an untold number of hostiles also met their fate.

Darkness did not stop the hunt.

Human fighters used night vision while the dogs relied on their acute hearing and smell to track prey.

Several of the humanoid-like Mutants-with their oversized mouths and forked tongues-were found and killed while others made at least a temporary escape on hoverbikes.

Grenadiers shredded a pack of Ghouls and both types of Sloths fell by the hundreds.

As morning neared, the intensity of the fighting waned as hostiles disappeared from the street, retreating to hiding spots. Extermination changed from massed attacks to smaller units tracking and cornering alien creatures.

Not long after dawn, Captain Nina Forest traveled by helicopter to the eastern part of the city in response to a civilian request for emergency assistance.

The helicopter landed on a stretch of gorgeous beach near a row of fancy condominiums and ocean view homes in an area known as Wrightsville Beach.

She exited her ride and moved out from under the whirring blades that spawned a miniature sandstorm. There she found a small gathering of Hunter-Killer units among a group of human survivors.

One of those people-dressed in patchwork clothes but in decent physical shape-approached her in an urgent gait. The older man with white hair and a permanent tan offered his hand but Nina felt it a gesture born of impulse, not thought.

“Hello, hello, are you the commanding officer?”

Nina nodded. “Captain Forest. What’s the emergency?”

“We need your help, desperately.”

“Yes, I know,” Nina told him. “You’ll be safe soon. Most of the city is under our control already.”

“Yes, yes, that’s wonderful, but that’s not the problem. It’s the children. They took them.”

She tilted her head and asked, “Children? What children? Who took them? Where?”

The man caught his breath and explained. “The orphans. Jim Brock’s orphans. A bunch of what you call ‘Mutants’ snuck over the bridge and grabbed them. They left one behind to tell us they want safe passage out of the city or they will kill all the hostages by sunset.”

“Mutants leaving messages? Taking hostages? That’s new.”

“Please, you have to help us. They’re just kids.”

Nina rested a hand on his shoulder and assured, “Nothing to it.”

10. Enclave en-clave n. 1. A country or part of a country lying wholly within the boundaries of another. 2. A distinctly bounded area enclosed within a larger unit.

Jon Brewer closed his eyes and filled his lungs with a deep inhale.

A fine mist carried across his face and the distinct aroma of salt water filled his nose. He heard the splash and surge of the ocean parting as the shark-like craft cut through the Labrador Sea.

He opened his eyes again and did not see much more than he saw with them closed. His entire trip felt shrouded in darkness. Perhaps that was appropriate.

Built for stealth, the submarine did not offer any external lighting. Its colorless hull pushed through a lightless ocean.

Jon stood in the conning tower of the Newport News as it sailed northeasterly. It would be a long while before they made it to Qaanaaq. Even then, their journey would not be complete. The coordinates indicated that the “X” marking the spot on Jon’s version of a treasure map waited even further north and further inland.

He expected that being bottled up in the submarine would become difficult over the next several days, particularly once they submerged again. Yet he wondered if it would be easy compared to the low temperatures, the bone-chilling wind gusts, and the hazardous terrain that awaited the Greenland leg of their trip.