Anthony DeCosmo - Disintegration

Back at the assembly area, all four of the big guns hovered into firing position.

The first blast arced away from the Redcoat base in a big blue ball with a trailing, comet-like aura. That comet smashed into the small parking garage Ross’ mortar teams had fired from the day before.

More volleys blasted the structure. Big bugs and green alien eels slithered from the doomed garage. The levels buckled and collapsed into a stack of cement flapjacks. A cloud of dust blew away in all directions, blanketing the area.

The artillery pieces adjusted and fired again.

Bolts of plasma fell into the King’s College gymnasium, punching through the roof and vaporizing the interior. The entire building imploded, letting loose another cloud.

The artillery continued. The bolts fell one after another after another.

Having already demonstrated their skill in precision targeting, the Redcoats displayed their skill at mass destruction. The crackling sound of exploding alien ordnance sizzled as if a city block sat atop a hot skillet. An acrid electric smell rode the black and brown fog of destruction rising as the carnage spread.

A series of the glowing balls fell into a large Victorian-ere home long ago remodeled into professional offices. Glowing rings of blue shockwaves radiated outward, smashing tall, majestic windows and knocking porch pillars from perches. The gutted interior could not support the frame so the roof dropped and the sidewalls splintered, leaving only the ruins of the front fascia standing hollow like a depthless prop on a theater stage.

The bombardment pounded on.

The King’s College School of Business suffered a torrent of raining shells. Glass shattered and melted into crystal teardrops. The Redcoat artillery erased in seconds what had taken months to build.

The fiery shots broke the golden dome of a grand synagogue. The stone walls beneath warped and chipped while the innards of the temple disassembled into ashes.

Everything inside the area cordoned by the soldiers felt the downpour. The bombs sent shockwaves but started no fires: the nature of the weaponry did not lend itself to ignition but, rather, evaporated or hammered everything it touched.

The shells came…and came…and came.

Stonewall’s trio of raiders led their horses to the basement fallout shelter of the Kirby Health center, a stately old mansion turned office building.

Garrett intended to stay in the shelter but a blast knocked over a wall and released a horde of those acid-spitting insects into the basement. The men pushed through the thick haze of dust to the outside, barely escaping but losing their horses to the bugs. They faced, however, an even more dangerous environment: a city street covered in a storm of swirling debris, noxious vapors, and collapsing buildings. Visibility shrunk to a few yards.

The ground shook. Flashes of blue flickered like lightning behind the clouds of dust. The smell-similar to electrical wires overheating-grew thick and heavy.

Stonewall led his men even as the chaos rang so loud he could not hear his own shouts. His group met Woody Ross’ unit in the remains of a blasted-open foundation.

They stayed there until a towering college dormitory fell. Car-sized chunks of concrete and steel dropped on their position; one fell on Jennie, killing her instantly.

Stonewall directed the rest to a manhole cover in the center of River Street. They descended like escaping rats into the dark sewer. The cramped tunnel did not allow for standing room, so they sat together in the sludge. The piping was not large enough to allow passage, trapping them in that one smelly spot for hours, feeling the ground shake around them, and fearing entombment should a shot hit directly above.

While they hunkered in a makeshift bunker to wait out the storm, the trembling ground and the constant noise forced, pulled, and otherwise attracted a host of predators from their nests, dens, and lairs.

A cloud of jellyfish things-capable of floating in the air for short periods-charged from their hive inside a deli at the Redcoat perimeter like angry bees swarming. Dozens besieged the Bicentennial Building, engaging sentries on the ground level and floating up and around in a furious frenzy. The Redcoats knocked most from the air quickly, but several broke through to the forward headquarters on a nearby roof.

The newly promoted commander of the 1 ^ st Regiment ended up on the inside of one of the jellyfish-things gaping at his comrades while his battle armor and skin dissolved.

Ghouls, rat-things, another stick ogre, and a tangled ball of eels threatened the Redcoat lines. They all died from the aliens’ energy weapons but drained precious ammunition, inflicted casualties, and distracted from the main objective.

Around noon, an army of carnivorous spider-ants-each rivaling a city bus in size-marched from the south side toward downtown.

Hovering shuttles spotted the approaching threat and the Redcoats formed to face the menace. One wave of insects approached on Main Street, a second came parallel along Franklin. When they moved to within a block of Public Square, the Redcoats opened fire.

The first wave of the spider-ants fell to the concentrated, highly charged rifles.

They kept coming.

The second wave did not stay at street level. The things crawled sideways on walls and over buildings, circumventing and breaching the Redcoat lines.

Their huge pinchers sliced several aliens in two and carried others south as dinner for larva. The new-new 1 ^ st Regiment Commander, who held the post for two hours, died in the mandibles of a spider-ant when it surprised his HQ atop a bank building.

Artillery fire from the alien base camp halted while the foot soldiers dealt with the giant insects. Stonewall took advantage of the pause and vacated their hiding spot for the massive Luzerne County Courthouse along the riverbank.

By late afternoon, the 1 ^ st Regiment stemmed the spider-ant attack, killing most while the balance retreated to their nest in South Wilkes-Barre. The Redcoats lost nearly thirty killed, worse-than-killed, and injured during the engagement.

Nevertheless, the artillery bombardment began anew.

Stonewall’s group made it to the courthouse before that firing restarted. Inside, high in the mammoth rotunda waited a huge spider overlooking all entrances. It managed to sting Pop before they chased it off with small arms fire. Pop shivered violently and died.

Bird and Simms took aim at the evil-looking shadow.

Stonewall shouted, "No!" They gawked at him. He explained, "Allow the beast to lurk about. No need to dispatch it quite yet."

Stonewall smiled despite the presence of dozens of webbed carcasses scattered throughout the silk-ish fibers of the spider’s haunt.

"When our friends finish destroying the city, they will search for our bodies, enter this hall, find our eight-legged friend, and conclude we could not be hiding here."

Stonewall did not allow for debate. He led his group into the Sheriff's office where several skeletons-still handcuffed to desks-sat with bony grins.

Early that evening, the Redcoat artillery barrage halted, leaving several square blocks in ruin. A cloud of smoke hovered above the bombed-out scene creating a literal fog of war floating over piles of dust, rock, melted glass, and a handful of standing pillars and porches.

Redcoat patrols swept the entire dead zone. At the courthouse, they found the massive arachnid and killed it, but did not bother searching the rest of the building, as Garrett foresaw.

As the patrol left Stonewall said, "Not quite their usual thoroughness, thankfully."

Cassy Simms replied, "Maybe they’re tired. And frustrated. You have that effect on people, General."

Stonewall smiled. "Indeed."