Bea Cannon - A Small Gray Dot

“Take out one on the bottom, Duncan. Easier to reach those with the cocktails.”

Nobody could likely reach the second floor with a cocktail anyway. It would probably hit the side of the building, which would be a waste, but fires started on the bottom floor would work their way up. The sprinkler system might cut in but as Simon said, the fires would generate a lot of thick smoke.

He was lying on his stomach but he got his rifle high enough to fire and a window shattered.

Lem and Percy were hiding behind a couple of skinny trees, and they rose up and let loose with their rifles. Two more shattered.

Simon, hiding with the people who’d made it to the burned out vehicles, must’ve had the same idea because I heard him shout, “Get the bottom windows!”

Rifle-fire roared and more windows shattered.

Simon hollered, “Toss ‘em!”

I saw a flaming object go flying toward the building. It made it through a window, and the guys lit more bottles and flung them hard. A couple missed after all, smashing against the side of the building, the fire rolling harmlessly down the bricks but most went inside and shattered.

Then, the Binqua realized what was happening and began firing down at the wrecked vans. They were bad shots but I saw two fighters go down. By then, three men, one of them Lowell, arms laden with the cocktails, had gotten to the building and were kicking the door in. They flattened themselves against the building and started lighting and throwing the bottles inside.

Molotov cocktails were flying in like flaming birds. I don’t believe the Binqua realized what was happening at first but soon, smoke and flames were working their way up and smoke began issuing from the upstairs windows. Either the building didn’t have a sprinkler system or it wasn’t working.

In a few minutes, a bunch of Binqua exited the side door and started for cover in the nearby trees. Bullets hit a number but the ability to heal wounds kept some of them going. Our people were going to have to hit them a lot, preferably in vital areas – wherever those might be – to stop them.

Then, the Binqua came boiling from the living quarters at the far end, firing as they came.

By then, the fighters sent to go in through the vehicle entry had made it and they advanced and began firing back. A barrage of gunfire from the Binqua that came out the side door got my attention. They were firing at the fighters coming through the broken fence several yards to my right and down through the trees. I rolled over from my precarious and inadequate cover, scrambled to my feet, and keeping as low as I could, I made a dash for the parking lot and ran toward the other side of the building.

Duncan took off with me. Others followed us and we laid down fire as we ran. I didn’t have a rifle but I was firing with both my handguns. A line of Binqua ran to block our progress and two of the fighters with me fell. I fired until I ran out of bullets. I didn’t have time to reload but by then we’d reached the aliens. We crashed into them kicking and slashing. I saw somebody with a baseball bat whaling on one and a couple of them went down with arrows protruding from some part of their anatomy. The ladies with the bows had gotten them. Seemed they didn’t heal well with those sticking in them.

A Binqua threw something at me. I dropped down to avoid the object and he crashed into me and tried to pin me to the pavement. I fought to get from beneath him and felt my jacket rip but I got my arm free and slashed up with my knife, the blade cutting across his face. He shrieked and reared up and I slashed again. His shriek became a gurgle as he scrabbled at his throat and fell backward. I rolled away.

I was coming to my feet and saw the attached building had erupted into flames. I didn’t know if a Molotov cocktail got it or if it had caught from the main building but I was puzzled that it seemed to be on its way to burning completely – until I saw its outer surfacing was vinyl siding rather than the brick or cement material of the other buildings.

The fire was going to prevent me from entering. That could be good, maybe the fire would destroy the wedge but I didn’t have time to wonder about it because the Binqua were hell bent on taking us down. They seemed to have run out of bullets and had what appeared to be some kind of club and were using it to bludgeon. As had the one who’d tried to pin me, they were also throwing objects, a kind of disk. I couldn’t tell what they were but they appeared to have a cutting edge. They managed to bring a number of fighters down with them until our people got better at dodging.

A few Binqua appeared to be trying to take fighters down by crashing into them with their bodies. This worked somewhat because even the slim ones were heavier than humans. A couple more ran into to me but I managed to get one with my knife, slicing into his belly, and the other one met my boot. It didn’t kill him but he fell and I got him with the knife, too. They were heavy but their skin was thin. It was easy to slice them open and, even if you hit nothing vital, too many cuts or holes and they couldn’t do the fast healing anymore and they died. Everyone else had found that out, too, and were putting as many holes in them as they could. Someone with a sledgehammer was smashing one to mush.

In the meanwhile, most of the small building had burned; the roof was gone and only one wall was still standing. I was about forty feet away but the machines I glimpsed inside seemed unaffected. They gleamed brightly as though polished by the fire. I recognized the egg-shaped form of one from the image I’d seen in the files. It was the wedge, and like the others, it sat there in seemingly pristine condition. I guessed they were made of sterner materials than the building. Whatever their composition, they didn’t burn.

That was disappointing but I’d known this wasn’t going to be easy.

I began to work my way towards the building. Through the melee, I saw Simon and Lowell fighting back-to-back. Something whizzed through the air striking Lowell and he fell. My heart caught but there was no time to get to him. Simon went into a killing frenzy, screaming and slashing with his sword. I caught a commotion out the corner of my eye and saw Madison. Nearly surrounded by Binqua, she was kicking and turning, seeming to almost dance. I was nearing what was left of the building and I needed to take the wedge device out, so I said a silent prayer for her and fought my way through.

I stumbled over the doorsill and up to the machine. I was pulling out the canceler when something collided with me from the side knocking me down. The canceler flew across the blackened cement floor. I rolled and my knife met the chest of the Binqua who’d bowled me over and was trying to bash my head against the floor. His breath rasped in his throat as he groped at me. I pushed him off me, got to my knees and stabbed again, burying my knife in his throat and he sprawled over backward, drowning in his stinking, bluish-red blood. I pulled the knife out and scrambled towards the canceler in time to see a tall, dark haired Binqua in a black suit reach down and pick it up.

I rose to my feet. There was an opening through which wisps of smoke were still issuing, and I could see a set of concrete stairs leading to the main building. Apparently, wherever in there he’d come from hadn’t burned much because he didn’t look singed.

I had a feeling I was looking at Julius Henderson. It was evident from the avid grin stretching his lips that he was pleased to get the canceler. He exclaimed something in his language, which of course was lost on me.

I took a step towards him and he pointed a .45 at me.

He glared at me with cold, black eyes. “Stop there, Tennessee Murray.” He gave a smile that looked more like a grimace. Or, perhaps it was. “Yes, I know who you are. Tedun – Martin Bedlow to you – made a copy of your driver’s license and I have since discovered your history. You think you will stop us but you won’t.”