Anthony DeCosmo - Disintegration

Nina watched Trevor’s intense stare at the photographs. She saw an idea forming in his mind. She walked to him and whispered, "What is it?"

Her soft voice distracted him; sent a shiver through him.

When he re-focused, he smiled. A big, big smile.

"Gentlemen," he stopped Jon and Stonewall's argument. "I suppose we’re just going to have to enlist a few more fighters to our side."

"Oh?" Stonewall responded. "Do tell, where shall we begin recruiting?"

"In Wilkes-Barre. Downtown, most likely."

Jon coughed as if choking on Trevor’s announcement.

"Um…you want the things downtown to attack the Redcoats?"

"Not exactly," Trevor referred to the photographs. "Look at their brilliant red uniforms and the sparkling gold on their lapels. Look at how they march and fight. Oh, what an arrogant bunch they are! Why, they see themselves as invincible."

Jon countered, "They’ve got firepower."

"So did the English during the Revolution. So did America in Vietnam. The problem in both cases is that the other guy didn’t fight by the same rules."

Stonewall grinned. "I believe you’re formulating something dangerous and exciting."

Trevor spent several minutes sharing the first part of his plan.

"Oh, wonderful!" Stonewall reacted. "Then it is to be mass suicide after all! Pure genius!"

"Once their main forces are engaged, Jon’s strike team takes out their command and control. You’ll need to take Omar with you to figure out those guns."

Nina asked the obvious question: "How is anyone going to get that close?"

Trevor brushed aside the photos and unfurled a map of Wilkes-Barre.

"Jon, tell me about their checkpoints."

Brewer pointed to the map. "They’ve got the major and secondary roads blocked. Here…here…and here."

Honest regret sounded in Stonewall’s voice: "I hate to be the pessimist but I can not fathom an approach they have not covered."

"That’s because you didn't grow up in northeastern Pennsylvania. Did he, Jon?"

Brewer-the only other native of the area in the room-did not understand.

Trevor helped Jon’s mind develop a picture. "When you were sixteen and your cousin bought you beer, where did you and your friends go to drink it? When you were twelve and were heading to the park to play a game of pick up football did you know a short cut? What about dirt bike riding or walking with the pack after curfew on Friday night?"

Jon's eyes widened and he grinned as understanding blossomed. He returned to the map and traced his finger over it.

Trevor said, "They spider web all over this area. Years ago, when they were still mining anthracite ‘round here, every neighborhood had them. That’s why they’re perfect, because those neighborhoods didn’t like them so they put them between tree lines or through areas of heavy brush or squeezed them between buildings and out of sight. They’re tough to spot from the air."

Trevor spent several more minutes explaining the second phase of his plan.

Nina nodded in approval as she predicted, "They’ll never see you coming."

"Hmmm," Stonewall tipped his hat at Trevor then Jon. "I do concede, you gentlemen offer thinking that is-what would be the word? — ah yes, three-dimensional. As long as our Redcoat friends remain one-dimensional, the Lord may bless us with a prayer. But you will still have several hundred of their soldiers to contend with, even if they become leaderless."

Trevor explained the last part of the plan and ended by telling Nina, "That leaves it to you and me to polish things off. We’ll only use one. I’d rather have one running fast and efficient with both gunner and pilot."

"Um…Trev," Jon tried to be subtle but failed.

"You don’t trust Nina, I know. Your rational mind tells you that it wasn’t her fault, but you can’t bring yourself to trust her despite that. I understand. It’s human."

Stone faced her.

"But it’s also human to have faith in someone. I have faith in her. We- I — need her. Just as I need Stonewall to do his part and I need you, Jon, on the front line."

"I hate to break up the mutual admiration society," Stonewall broke in. "I’m still not exactly sure how I’m supposed to accomplish my rather lofty objective."

Trevor placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Why General, you’re going to charm them right out of their fancy red coats."

– The night air felt cold and dry. A blanket of clouds obscured the moon and stars. The streetlights had stopped functioning months ago, leaving the Redcoat checkpoint at the lower end of Kidder Street across from a vacant Taco Bell to depend on a pair of glowing orbs for light.

Behind a hastily constructed barricade of abandoned human vehicles, a squad of ten soldiers manned that important checkpoint: important because it guarded the most direct route from the city to the army’s assembly area.

The aliens huddled together around the glowing orbs in search of warmth but remained vigilant with their helmets on and weapons at the ready.

A heavy, chopping noise cut through the air: thump-thump-thump.

The aliens heard that noise in previous battles. They knew the creature on the other end of that thump-thump could spit furious fire. They had lost more than a few comrades to its teeth.

That creature appeared above the rooftops of the neighborhood ahead of the checkpoint: An Apache attack helicopter.

The alien soldiers used box-like communicators to call for help. Their powerful anti-aircraft guns sat at the camp on top of the hill behind them. However, they knew those guns were useless in this case: the area around the checkpoint lay beneath the firing arc of the weapons.

To their surprise, the ship did not attack. It hovered a hundred feet away.

Below the chopper, moving up the street, came a strange-looking man. A human male with an odd uniform riding on an animal and approaching the checkpoint.

The squad leader at the alien post produced a paddle-shaped translating device from his accessories sack. When the strange human spoke, the aliens listened to the translation.

"Do not make any sudden moves or your position will be destroyed in its entirety. I bring you a warning: this city and all its populace belongs to me, General Stonewall Garrett McAllister. Leave this area and we will not destroy you. Approach this city and you will be crushed under the heel of our boots."

The squad leader responded with a snort: his race’s version of a chuckle.

The human spoke again: "Move off and you and your army will be spared."

The man on the four-legged animal galloped away. The helicopter provided cover for a moment, then it too turned and disappeared above the rooftops.

The squad leader barely contained his fury. How dare these barbarians speak to a superior race in such a manner!

When the army commander hears of this insult there can be no other course of action. We will take this human’s city and smash it to pieces!

Moments before the first rays of light climbed the horizon, the aliens at the Kidder Street checkpoint dove for cover beneath their bulwark of dead cars as explosions erupted around them.

The mortar shells caused no damage but served as further insult to the proud army occupying the high ground above the city.

One of the alien shuttles lifted from the Redcoat camp and hovered above Kidder Street, no doubt tracing the source of incoming artillery.

From his perch atop the brick brewery building, Shep radioed, "Ross, you copy?"

"Yeah, Shep. Go 'head."

"One of their planes is airborne. I don't see any missiles or armaments, but they got to be up to something. Wait a sec…"

A sharp buzz pulled his attention to the assembly area where two of the silver upside-down-bowl machines came to life: large barrels extended from their smooth surfaces.