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rocket engine and then slammed into the helicopter.
The helicopter exploded in midair sending flaming pieces far and wide.
"Jesus," the local said, putting the pickup in gear and backing out of the
driveway.
"Great," the chief said. "They've got antiair capability. What next?
Antitank? Organic tanks?"
"That room you were in," Weaver said. "It looked like a giant organism, right?
So it's conceivable that they could grow something as large as a tank."
"That won't be good," Miller noted.
"No," Weaver said with a chuckle.
"Where are they, then?" Sanson asked.
"Probably the same place ours are," Weaver replied in a distracted tone. "Not
near the gate. Okay, they form a gate. And maybe they're getting ready for an
invasion. But that room was more or less empty, right?"
"Right," Miller replied.
"So . . . the mosquito thing that got your SEAL was something like a sentry,
maybe an antibody. It was designed just to defend the hole and maybe send out
an alarm. Although I'd guess getting a couple of satchel charges in the gut
probably sent enough of an alarm through that thing anyway."
"Ouch," Miller said. "You're saying we caused this?"
"No," Weaver replied. "But you might have sped up their timetable.
So they're throwing everything they have nearby into the gate. And,
presumably, their real heavies aren't right there. Or, maybe, they haven't
even produced them yet but will soon. Or are producing them now and they'll be
here momentarily."
"We'd better block the gate pretty quick, then," the local noted, putting the
truck in gear.
"Oh, yeah," Weaver said as his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and
turned it on distractedly. "William Weaver."
"Doctor Weaver, this is the NSA. SOCOM reports they've lost contact with their
SEAL team, the National Guard is out of contact with their company and the
last news chopper to get into the area was shot down by something. I presume
you've moved out of the area? I
wasn't sure if you'd be there to answer, frankly."
"No, I'm still in the area," Weaver replied as the pickup took a corner on two
wheels. "We're going to try to block the gate with a bulldozer. And I don't
know what happened to Lieutenant Glasser but the last two members of the team
are with me in the pickup truck."
"Pickup truck?"
"Some of the locals have rendered assistance," Weaver said. "I'd make a
redneck joke but I are one. Anyway, they've got the monsters pushed back to
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the gate and we're going to try to close it, or at least block it, with one of
the bulldozers that was clearing the area. But we've been discussing it and we
think there are probably heavier monsters that haven't arrived yet. I think
you need to get some really heavy forces down here."
"We will," the NSA answered. "There's a battalion on the way from
Benning at the moment but they can't be there until tomorrow at the earliest."
"Well, in that case I suggest that you get whatever you can get here as fast
as possible," Weaver said. "these guys seem to mean business.
And so far I think we've only seen their equivalent of infantry. I don't want
to think about what might be on the way. I'd say, ma'am, that it's a race to
see who can . . ." he paused. He'd heard the term before. Oh,
yeah. "who can get here the fustest with the mostest."
There was a pause and he could almost see the NSA nod. "I see.
I'll point that out, with underlining, to the Pentagon."
"Yes, ma'am," Weaver said as the pickup braked to a stop by the bulldozer.
"I've got to go now. Talk to you later. Bye."
"You know," Weaver said to the air. "This is almost as exciting as defending a
scientific paper."
"You're joking," the chief replied, climbing out of the truck and scanning for
monsters. There was one of the dogs on the bulldozer and he shot it off but
that seemed to be the only one in the area.
"Sort of," Weaver said. "But you'd be surprised how brutal it can get." He
hefted the shotgun and felt in his pocket for the remaining rounds. The
pistol, on safe as he'd been shown, was shoved in the front of his pants, his
last magazine shoved in his back pocket. "And they don't let you shoot people
who are attacking you for no reason."
The four of them clambered on the bulldozer and the local got it started. It
lurched into motion and headed right for the gate.
"I'm gonna pull it up to the side and pivot it," the local said. "That's gonna
be the bad time; nobody will be able to fire because we'll be in the way."
"Well, I'll do what I can," Miller said. He had grabbed the
Tyrannosaur and had his M-4 slung over his back. "Sanson, take the dogs, I'll
handle the thorns, Doc, you handle anything that gets on the dozer."
The local picked up the dozer blade as one of the thorn-throwers that had just
exited the gate fired at them. Most of the thorns were caught by the blade but
a few pinged onto the canopy over the driver's seat.
Miller leaned against the support of the canopy and fired the
Tyrannosaur, the recoil almost knocking him off his feet.
"Yowza!" he yelled, working the bolt and then rotating his shoulder.
"Got a kick, don't it?" the local said.
Sanson was picking off dogs on either side and Doc realized he
should be watching for threats, not watching the chief. He looked around and,
sure enough, one of the dogs had managed to jump up on the back of the dozer.
He gave it a mouthful of buckshot which, if it didn't kill it, certainly
knocked it off the dozer. Another was trying to get past the spinning treads
on his side and he shot it in the back. It lost the use of its back legs but
still tried to crawl forward.
Just then the local pivoted the dozer, incidentally crushing the wounded dog
monster, and lowered the blade slightly, lining it up with the hole. There was
a mound of injured and dead monsters by the gate and the dozer pushed them
back into the hole along with a thorn-thrower that had just come through. The
mound shrank as it was pushed back and then the dozer blades, which were wider
than the opening, reached the gate. And stopped.
All four of them were thrown forward as the bulldozer lurched to a halt. The
local geared down, but the treads just spun in place.
"Damn," Miller said. "That's weird."
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"Very," Weaver admitted. He hadn't been certain what would happen since the
blade was wider than the opening but if he had been willing to make a guess is
was that the dozer would have gone forward as if the gate didn't exist,
leaving the gate in the middle of the dozer.
However, it appeared that the gate had a very real physical presence. It was,
however, at least partially blocked. As he watched, though, a dog monster
crawled out from under the blade, only to be shot by Sanson.
"Lower the blade a little," the chief said.
The local lowered it to the ground, leaving the top half of the gate open. A
thorn-thrower clambered over the obstacle but was hit by fire from three
separate machine guns and fell back into the gate.
"Let's dig a berm," Sanson said. "Push dirt up to cover it completely."
"They'd just dig through it," Miller said. "No, leave it this way. We'll
realign the machine guns to cover it. I'm sure they'll figure out a way
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