Anthony DeCosmo - Disintegration

"Ross, bug out! Move!"

First one gun, then the second, launched blue fireballs glowing like shooting stars in the morning twilight. The balls flew over the Kidder Street checkpoint in a beautiful arc and crashed into a house just as Woody "Bear" Ross and his two mortar teams left its backyard.

Instead of an explosion, the strike disintegrated the home as if it were a sandcastle caught in a gale: not board by board, but molecule by molecule leaving the foundation filled with dust.

With the mortars disrupted, the alien artillery fell silent. However, part one of the plan- the baiting part — worked: the Redcoats assembled two regiments and marched down hill.

"This is Shepherd to all units; we got that war we wanted. It's going to be a long day."

– "Public Square" comprised the heart of Wilkes-Barre. A small park sat inside a traffic circle where four primary streets converged.

Buildings surrounded the square, a few reaching fourteen stories and standing since the 1930s. Others, such as the bus terminal and Ramada hotel, were built after the '72 flood, hence a more modern appearance.

A holler-a rebel yell-followed by a trumpet crooning something similar to "Dixieland," disturbed the deceptively quiet scene downtown as dawn bloomed.

Stonewall, Dustin McBride, and bugle boy Benny Duda galloped on horseback from south to north along Main Street and across Public Square.

The commotion woke the city.

Things emerged from the shadows, the smashed display windows, and the battered store doors. Ghouls from Boscov's, a tall troll from a garage…out came the hordes; hordes hungry because prey animals had become scarce to the point that predators now fed on other predators.

The groans…the growls…the moans…the unearthly whistling…a garbled cackle…they joined together in a nightmarish chorus.

– One Redcoat regiment strutted down Kidder Street, marching side by side grouped in squads with one air ship overhead. They stayed to the east of downtown, making their way into the residential neighborhood that had sheltered the mortar teams an hour before.

A second regiment-also supported by one airship-split to the west then turned again to follow Wilkes-Barre Boulevard, a major north-south thoroughfare skirting center city. Both regiments aimed southward like parallel spears searching for a victim to skewer.

Shepherd radioed, 'Trevor, you copy? Two formations headin' south according to plan."

Trevor's reply over the radio: "I guess we should be careful what we wish for. Good luck to everyone. See you soon, I hope."

– Ross' group chased away a furry crocodile creature and then hid in a dilapidated furniture warehouse just off Wilkes-Barre Boulevard to the northeast of center city. His mini-army consisted of himself, Kristy Kaufman and a pair of two-person mortar teams.

One of those teams was comprised of an elderly fellow everyone called "Pop" because he spoke often of his dead grandkids, as well as a young woman named Jennie.

Mortar team number two included a late 20's man with a goatee nicknamed "Bird" because of the American eagle tattooed to his chest. Formerly a borderline white supremacist, Armageddon (and General Stonewall) changed his perspective.

Since Frank Dorrance's death, Bird now paired with Cassy Simms when on mortar duty.

Ross peered from a front window while his teams exited the rear door, walked under a small iron train trestle straddling a side street, and set up their weapons behind the cover of a steep grassy bank that supported railroad tracks.

One of the alien regiments came marching along the boulevard in perfect formation, their red uniforms stood apart brilliantly from the grungy, litter-covered streets of the dead city. The ship providing air cover drifted off, perhaps investigating movement or a shadow.

Ross watched as the vanguard of the regiment neared a traffic sign that served as a range marker for his teams. As the first alien soldiers passed that small blue sign, he turned to Kristy Kaufman and shouted, "Now!"

Kristy stepped out the rear door and signaled Pop. A moment later, a thwoop-thwoop played in Ross' ears like a sweet melody.

The first explosion turned a neat formation of Redcoats into a flying mass of splintered body parts. The next landed among the scattering aliens killing three and wounding several more.

Ross allowed another volley and then ordered retreat. Less than a minute after exiting the warehouse, sapphire balls of alien artillery disintegrated the building into sawdust, left smoldering holes in the grassy embankment, and twisted the iron trestle as if touched by the sun.

– The second part-or hope-of the plan showed signs of success around noon. At that time, the 1 ^ st Regiment-the one conducting house-to-house searches through the dense residential neighborhood to the east-suffered an ambush of ghouls from alleys and backyards.

Those ghastly, mindless animals flooded the Redcoat marching lines and clawed or bit to death six soldiers before the Redcoats' superior firepower eliminated the threat.

A while later that same regiment changed its heading and moved west toward downtown. As they passed a nightclub built from an old train station, something big charged the group.

It walked on massive, elephant-like legs that could crush a car and Bobby Weston. It had no head or eyes but it did have six long necks flailing like thick tentacles. Massive mouths opened and shut at the end of those flailing necks.

The Redcoat commander barked orders but his decrees went unheard as the monster stomped soldiers. Nearly two squads crunched underfoot with sickening snaps while the impact tremors knocked more off balance.

Hurried blasts from Redcoat rifles pinpricked the mammoth as it stomped again, crushing another half-dozen aliens while its mouths plucked even more from the street as if gorging at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Stonewall observed the carnage from a prone position beneath a smashed city bus two blocks away. He set aside his hat and pointed a sniper rifle in the direction of the battle. Dustin McBride shared the space beneath the bus using binoculars to spot targets while Benny Duda hid in a nearby alleyway with their horses.

"To the left," McBride directed. "Looks like someone important; given orders 'n shit."

Through the scope, Stonewall spotted the brave Redcoat regiment commander valiantly rallying his troops despite the chaos.

"I salute you, Sir," Stonewall said honestly, and fired.

The high-powered slug tore through the commander’s body armor and knocked him to the ground at the same moment another giant leg stepped on yet another bunch of Redcoats.

Amidst the confusion, none of the aliens noticed the sniping of their leader.

Another Redcoat officer fell, then another, adding to the chaos.

One alien squad managed to disengage from the creature, retreated twenty yards, and formed a firing line. They pointed their guns at the giant, pulled triggers, then waited, confirming the notion that these extraterrestrial rifles required charging time to build power.

Finally, they let loose a volley of energy exploding into the hide of the beast; its myriad of mouths howled in unison. The volley left a gory hole as if the creature had been hit with a bazooka. Apparently, the Redcoat rifles packed a significant punch if given time to power-up.

The hydra-thing toppled, crushing an ATM kiosk.

As the Redcoats counted their losses, Stonewall went to work again: a squad leader's helmet blew to pieces; the chest of an alien soldier exploded. This time the aliens recognized the peril and sought cover behind overturned cars and the giant's dead carcass.

Stonewall's radio broadcast a warning from Shepherd: "Incoming artillery fire!"

McBride wiggled backwards saying, "Man, we had a good thing going."