Storymania - Weller--A Novel In Work by Woody Floria

Weller--A Novel In Work (6)
Woody Floria

Blalock was unpacking the last of the Stinger missiles and making sure they were positioned to provide the best field of fire for protection of the site. Bostick seems to be a pretty damn competent guy, Hendrix remarked. Yea, Blalock agreed, seems to think of everything. Scanning the night sky, Hendrix noted nothing but stars. Looks like things have quitted down. Don’t kid yourself, Blalock replied, it’s the calm before the storm. Ya think, Hendrix asked. With what we’ve seen in the last hour, I doubt they have just called it a night? Just at that moment, Hendrix began to feel a change in the atmosphere. Everything had become very quite and his skin begin to tingle, like the air was filled with static electricity. You feel that Joe, Hendrix ask. Damn straight Skippy, Blalock replied. Scanning the night sky, noting that nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

General Alfred Crocker looked up at the big board and drew in a quick breath. The area around Hendrix position had cleared out for awhile, but now he was witnessing a hard target moving in low and slow. Accessing the situation, he made a quick decision. Tapping away at his keyboard, he called up a secondary screen showing his fighter’s positions. Signal flight 29 Savoy, to move in on Hendrix position he ordered, and patch me through to the flight leader.

Major Marty Petkovsek, call sign “Penthouse” was commander of a flight of four FA-18s orbiting approximately 150 miles North of Hendrix’s position. He had no idea what he was doing, maintaining his flight in a slow circular orbit, he was just following his orders, until his radio crackled to life. Flight 29 Savoy, this is Crystal Mountain, how do you copy? Five by five, Crystal Mountain, Petkovsek acknowledged.
Major, this is General Alfred Crocker, stand by for mission assignment. Roger sir, standing by Petkovsek acknowledged. Major, drop the hammer and get your ass in gear. We have a hard target, unknown origin or description at coordinates 4 x-ray delta, delta range approximately 150 miles. Target is assumed hostile!! You are authorized guns hot, smoke the bandit, do you copy? Copy that sir, Perkovsek replied, tapping the coordinates into his navigation system, ETA 8 minutes!! Stick your foot it in Major, Crocker replied, I’ve got troops on the ground that need air support right now!! Roger that sir, Petkovsek acknowledged, we’re rolling guns hot!!

Hitting the speed dial on his cell phone, Crocker reached out to Hendrix. Hendrix answered on the second ring. Matt, We’ve got a hard target moving in on your position from the Southwest, range three miles and closing, can you see anything? Negative General, we can’t see it, but we can feel it. It’s like the air is full of static electricity. It’s big Joe, larger then any contact we’ve ever recorded, Crocker replied. I’ve got a flight of four F18s shagging ass to your position, ETA 8 minutes, but it looks like the bogey’s going to be on top of you in less than three. Roger that sir, Hendrix replied, hold one. Turning to Blalock, Hendrix apprised him of the situation. Blalock immediately began issuing orders to his men, and all eyes turned to the sky.

Bostick turned to Furlough with a stern look on his face. Looks like they’re making their play, going for the downed ship. Makes sense, Furlough acknowledged, it’s a soft target. Maybe not so soft, Bostick speculated.. They’re not exactly helpless, they’ve got Stingers. Furlough just shook his head, fucking Bostick thinks of everything!!

Petkovsek had his attack radar set on max range, but he was still just outside of his target acquisition envelope. Pushing his afterburners wide open, he formed his flight up into attack formation. Suddenly, his radar screen lit up with contacts. Jesus Christ Penthouse, we’re in the shit, his wingman Abe “Snuffy” Smith exclaimed. Where the fuck did they come from Petkovsek blurted out? Threat alarms were screaming in his cockpit as he ordered his flight to take evasive maneuvers. Pulling hard left on his stick, Petkovsek and Smith peeled away from the formation and barrel rolled in an attempt to gain attack position.

General Alfred Crocker watched the big board display helplessly, as he listened to Petkovsek’s flight comms. Nine hard targets were engaging Petkovsek’s flight. No way their going to get on top of this Crocker exclaimed. Grabbing the mic he broke in on Petkovsek’s comms. Get the Hell out of there Pet, Crocker ordered, your outnumbered and outgunned.

Blalock and Hendrix saw the disruption at the same moment. A large portion of the star field went black as a massive dark triangular object moved in on their position. It was dead silent, but the silence was suddenly broken by tones from the Stinger missiles as they began to lock on to their target from a half dozen different positions. There was a bright flash of light as the first Stinger fired off, quickly followed by five additional flashes.

Crocker was almost in a dead panic now as he scrambled to sortie additional fighters in to help Petkovsek’s flight. Rangers have engaged the target, sir his FAC announced tensely. Patch us into their comms, Crocker ordered.

Blalock and Hendrix watched in amazement as the Stinger missiles arched quickly toward their target and then went completely off course flying in a half dozen different directions. What the FUCK, Blalock exclaimed, but practically before the words were out of his mouth the entire sky lit up as a blinding beam of light shot from the alien craft. The heat from the light was over powering as almost instantly the downed alien craft vaporized before their eyes. Dropping to their knees reflexively, Blalock and Hendrix were covered in sand and ash as a cloud of debris rolled over their fighting hole. Choked by the superheated atmosphere, both Hendrix and Blalock coughed and gagged uncontrollably.

Perry Franklin was like a kid in a candy store. He had two camcorders running and was snapping stills as fast as he could point, focus, and shoot. Can you believe this shit, Franklin ask his partner, Troy Little? It’s amazing, Little replied. We’re so on the cover of next month’s Journal. Both Franklin and Little were Field Investigators with the Mutual UFO Network, and Area 51 was their beat. They maintained what amounted to a permenate base camp atop Freedom Ridge, a mountain top located miles away, but just outside of the Federal control zone around the top secret base. Suddenly a blinding bright flash lite up the entire night sky, followed seconds later by a strong rush of hot wind and what sounded like a sonic boom. MUTHERFUCKER, Did you get that, Little screamed. Tell me you fucking got that Perry??

Crocker stared at the big board in a state of dread. Flight 29Savoy was gone. Vainly, the FAC called out to the flight over and over again with no reply. As Crocker watched the alien contacts paired up and dispersed in groups of two and three. Four FA18s gone without ever firing a shot, they never had a chance.

Alex Parker, glanced at the clock, rudely awoken by the incessant ringing of his cell phone. 3:20AM, Jesus, this better be good he thought to himself. Glancing at the caller ID, his interest piqued. What up Perry, Parker asked? It’s crazy out here Alex, Franklin exclaimed his voice obviously filled with excitement. Slow down man, Parker replied, it sounds like your hyperventilating. Listen to me Alex, this is huge, Franklin practically screamed!! We’ve got video like you’ve never seen, the base is under attack!! Attack, Parker replied skeptically, by what, prairie dogs? No Goddamnit, aliens!!! I’m telling you Alex we’ve been watching them buzz the base all night, then there was this Hellasious explosion, lite up the whole damn sky!! And you got it on tape, Parker asked, now obviously more excited!! You’re damn right we do, Franklin replied!! Okay, okay, Perry, I’m going to call the station and get the chopper in the air coming your way. Get your gear packed up!!
No way, Alex, Franklin replied. There’s no way I’m leaving right now. Send the chopper, and I’ll send you the tapes.

Parker immediately called WLAS, where he was the evening news anchor man and connected to Ernie Pyle, the graveyard Production Manager. Ernie, it’s Alex!! I need you to get the chopper in the air over to Freedom Ridge to pick up some important video tapes. Oh come on Alex, Pyle immediately groaned. Do you have any fucking idea what it cost to put that bird up and fly it all the way out there? The Station Manager is already on our ass about budget overruns. Just do it Ernie, I’ll deal with Eric in the morning, Parker replied. Okay, Alex, but I’m telling you he’s gonna be pissed!!

Finally catching his breath. Blalock wiped the tears from his eyes and attempted to focus on the carnage that surrounded him. The alien ship was gone, just gone. Only a smoking hole remained where the ship had rested. The four transport truck that had been parked near by were on fire, belching out reams of thick, black smoke. Staggering from the fighting hole, he began attempting to located and organize his men. Hendrix surveyed the situation and called Crocker. General Alfred Crocker answered on the first ring. Matt, what’s happening? You can turn the fighters around sir, Hendrix replied there nothing left here to defend. Say again, Crocker request? It’s gone sir, the ship is gone..

Peanut Brown had been driving all night and he was dead tired. Checking into a small motel on the outskirts of Vegas, he registered under a fake name and paid cash for his room in advance. Falling onto the bed, he set his alarm, for 10:30AM, then fell asleep almost immediately.

Roy Gallagher slipped the lock on Dr. Jose Phillip’s office door, eased in and quickly moved through the darkened office by the glow from a small pen light. Quickly locating the doctors computer, he pulled up Shanna Miller files and download them on to his memory stick. Taking a moment to browse the files, he noted with interest the doctor’s comments. Congratulations Mrs. Miller, got one in the oven. Quietly slipping back out of the office, he made his way back to his car, plugged the memory stick into is laptop and e-mailed the entire file back to the address he had been given two hours before. He didn’t know who the file was being sent to, and didn’t care. Gallagher wasn’t the kind of guy that questioned orders, he just got the job done.

Bostick listened quietly to the update from his perimeter security team. Damn, he thought to himself. Fucking MUFON guys really had something this time and the intercepted cell phone communications made it very clear they were taking it straight to the media. Fucking Alex Parker was a constant pain in his ass!! That SOB was always snooping around, trying to dig up dirt on the base, but until now, all he’d had was suspicion and supposition. What to do? He knew what he’d like to do, but unfortunately shooting a Stinger right up the WLAS news copters exhaust pipes wasn’t really a viable option Tapping his finger’s nervously on his desk, the light bulb clicked on and he quickly grabbed his phone!

Furlough was just settling into bed when his phone rang. He was dead tired, more exhausted then he could remember being, even during the countless days and nights of sorties he’d flown in the Gulf War. Bosticks voice had a real sense of urgency that immediately grabbed Furlough’s attention. Major, I’m going to have to press you into service. What’s up, Furlough Replied?

Go to part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10