X war infiltration, p.5
X WAR: Infiltration, page 5
An untold number of hospital staff, patients, and other visitors lay sprawled on the ground, some moaning softly in pain, others lying deathly still, pools of crimson seeping out from their wounds.
The inner voice inside of her was high-pitched, almost childlike. Run down the hallway, Piper. Do it now!
She did as it suggested, her rubber soled shoes making tight squeaks on the once shiny floor as they stepped on the now wet, sticky surface. Sprinting past the lobby and into another passageway, she saw two of the masked gunmen ducking behind various upturned desks and chairs, while alternately getting up and firing multiple shots at the uniformed Torrance police officers shooting back at them from across the hall.
When Piper made it to the adjoining corridor, another visitor, a short Hispanic man wearing shorts and a Raiders t-shirt had been hiding by the doorway of a nearby storeroom, waited for the right moment to escape. As Piper ran past him, he quickly started running right behind her, hoping they both could make it to the back exit, less than twenty meters away.
One of the assailants near the edge of the lobby turned and spotted them. He took careful aim and began firing multiple shots with his semi-automatic rifle. Two bullets struck the man running side by side with Piper and he fell forward, colliding with the teenage girl and knocking her off her feet before slumping on top of her.
Piper shrieked as she tried to crawl away, only to look up and stare into the blank brown eyes of a masked gunman standing over her.
The attacker casually reloaded, ejecting the spent magazine before rocking a new one into place and pulling back the bolt handle, chambering a new round. "Found you!"
Just as he aimed at her face and began pulling the trigger, another shot from behind rang out. One of the wounded cops managed to fire a round from his pistol, hitting the gunman in the back. The masked attacker fell sideways without firing a shot.
Piper had finally managed to crawl free and she was back on her feet again, racing for the exit. Her inner voice began to mourn over the death of her parents, while her adrenaline kept spurring her body onwards. She would ultimately grieve at the time of her choosing, but right now she had to get to safety.
9 England
ADRIAN FARADAY WAS busy watching the British Army prepare for the Zulu attack on his vintage television set when the dog lying beside his easy chair suddenly stood up and started barking, drowning out the sounds from the old movie.
He leaned over and angrily shoved the animal aside, but the dog continued to howl away, completely ruining his favorite scene where the two lead actors in the film were arguing about who was to take command of the outpost.
"Bloody hell," Faraday growled while getting up. He leveled a slight kick at the black furred Labrador retriever's backside, and the dog quickly yelped and scurried away, its paws making slight tapping noises as it dashed along the lacquered wooden floor towards the kitchen area.
His wife was sitting on the couch, and she gave him a worried look. "Don't tell me you're going out there again?"
"I'll have to, just so I can shut this noisy dog up," he murmured. His movie night already ruined, Faraday figured he might as well let off some steam.
Located a few kilometers northeast of Longbridge Deverill in Wiltshire County, Crachit Farm was one of the more isolated homesteads in the area. Faraday had inherited the old two-bedroom house along with the surrounding farmlands from his father, and he had been diligently growing wheat and barley on it for over thirty years. The events happening outside of the county had never seemed to affect his life before, but a recent spate of crop circles appearing in his fields without any explanation had irritated him immensely.
Faraday was never the type to believe in such things as aliens or UFOs, and he figured these geometric patterns were the result of eccentric tricksters. He had watched a TV documentary about two men who explained that creating them was merely nothing more than using a length of rope and a wooden board to flatten the crops with, and he figured that was that.
But over the last few weeks, his dog had begun barking at all hours of the night, disturbing his much needed rest. It seemed that every time his pet would utter a deep throated howl, a new set of crop circles would appear the very next morning when he inspected the fields. With his patience now at the breaking point, Faraday could no longer tolerate any more nightly disturbances, and he was determined to catch the hoaxers in the act and put an end to it once and for all.
After buttoning up his trousers, Faraday sat on the stool by the mudroom as he struggled to put on his heavy boots. His dog got closer and made slight whimpering noises as he ruffled its ears before putting his other boot on.
Harriet sat up on the couch and twisted her head so she could see him standing near the kitchen exit. "Why don't you just call the police?"
Faraday exhaled deeply. "You know I've called them many times already. They haven't been much help since they always seem to arrive after everything's quieted down and they failed to find anything. The last few times I've called they didn't even bother."
"I-I don't like this, Adrian. Can you just let them be?"
"No! I've had enough. If these hooligans insist on bothering us, then I will identify them and file an official complaint with the proper authorities."
Harriet looked on with concern as her husband took out the double-barreled shotgun from the top of a nearby mantelpiece and placed two 12 gauge birdshot shells into its breech. "Adrian, please don't."
"Just in case they're carrying knives and such," Faraday said as he cradled the shotgun in his left arm while opening the back door.
"Adrian, no."
Ignoring his wife's protests, Faraday allowed the dog to scurry out first before moving through the lighted threshold and out into the back of the house. With a cloudy night sky above him, Faraday took out the flashlight from his jacket and turned it on, casting a steady beam of illumination as he began to move towards the work shed.
If they damaged my tractor again I'm going to kill them! he thought while slowly making his way towards the outbuilding. His vintage Fordson Major had been vandalized a few years before by unknown parties, and it had cost a pretty penny in repair work. Faraday was more determined than ever not to let anyone off the hook if he could help it.
The once howling retriever now seemed docile and cowardly as it ran rings around him as he moved, whimpering and seemingly begging for something.
"Bloody dog," Faraday muttered as he shone the flashlight over his parked tractor by the side of the shed. There wasn't any apparent damage, and he breathed a sigh of relief. At least these crop circle people haven't stolen or smashed anything, but I still need to tell them off so I can get some rest.
The Labrador retriever's whimpering became even more incessant as Faraday began to make his way towards the adjoining fields of barely. He often wondered how these hoaxers were getting in and out since he had yet to hear the roar of a car engine at this hour of night. They'd have to walk and sneak around for miles just to do this every evening.
As he got to the edge of the northern barley field, Faraday squinted at the line of trees out in the distance. He could see strange, dancing orbs of lights towards the opposite end of the field, hovering just above the crops.
What in heaven's name are those things? Pushing himself through the field to get a closer look, Faraday could feel the hairs on his arms standing up, as if he was visiting one of those old science exhibits during his childhood, his memories of walking up to an electric glass sphere and placing his hands on the device, and the chilling effect it had on him.
The dog's whimpering reached a desperate level, and it suddenly ran off, deeper into the field of barley.
"Blitzer! Come back here," Faraday hissed, but the animal was already out of sight.
After taking a few more steps, Faraday stumbled into the middle of the pattern. To his astonishment, one of the orbs of light seemed to hover just above his head, and he could see the stalks of barley being flattened by some sort of invisible energy, creating a wavelike arrangement all around him.
"Oh my god," he said softly.
Without warning, his mind was bombarded with a cascade of sensations, an endless array of mental sounds and images. Faraday's knees started wobbling as a piercing pain, akin to a spike being driven into the top of his skull, nearly overwhelmed him.
The next thing he knew, he had somehow made it back through the back door of the house, and he stood by the kitchen. Looking down, it seemed he was still cradling the shotgun, but there was blood dripping from his hands.
Faraday couldn't hear anything except a constant drone, akin to a small alarm bell that refused to be silenced. He could see his wife pointing at him and screaming, but the ringing inside his head drowned out every other sensation. Everything was in slow motion, as if he were in a dream.
Harriet had a look of horror in her eyes as she seemed to scurry towards him, a chef's knife in her right hand. Her mouth was open and her lips were moving, but for the life of him he couldn't tell what she was trying to say.
He tried to warn her off as she came at him with the knife, but he wasn't even sure what he was saying anymore. It looked like she was about to stab him with it, so he held out his left hand, hoping it would be enough to calm her down. His gesture of peace only seemed to agitate her even further, and he could see the crazed look in her eyes as she brought the knife down, stabbing at his palm before he could withdraw his hand.
Faraday howled in pain as he had felt the knife blade penetrating his flesh, and his other hand instinctively swung the butt of the shotgun, catching her in her side. The blow was enough to throw her back, and she landed on the floor, still waving the knife around as if trying to fend off an imaginary enemy. His vision blurred...
When he opened his eyes again he found himself sitting on the mudroom stool. The body of his wife lay near the kitchen counter leading out towards the living room. When he tearfully leaned forward to take a closer look, he ended up recoiling backwards after seeing what was left of her face.
The guilt became overwhelming as he realized what he had done. I... I killed her! May God forgive me.
A feeling of hopelessness swept over him. He loved her more than anything, and now she was dead. Faraday couldn't remember how or why, but it didn't matter anymore.
After wrapping his wounded right hand with a rag, he calmly reloaded the shotgun. Pulling one of his boots off, he threw the thick woolen sock away, exposing his pale right foot. Holding the long barreled shotgun parallel to his body, he put his big toe in front of the trigger before placing his mouth over the twin barrels of the weapon.
10 Los Angeles
THE COP WHO HAD DRIVEN Piper back to her parents' house stood by the main doorway, his normally stoic demeanor etched with a slight sense of concern. His nametag read McKenzie. "Are you sure you'll be okay here alone?"
Piper nodded slowly. "I think so. Thanks for driving me home, Officer."
He held out a set of car keys towards her. "I guess these are yours now. I'm so sorry for your loss."
She took it from his outstretched hand. "Thank you."
"You're not yet eighteen, right?"
"I'll be turning eighteen in a few months' time."
He nodded. "Okay. As of this point you're still a juvenile. We're going to contact Child Protective Services tomorrow because it's a state requirement, so they might pay you a visit soon. Are you sure there isn't any relative you could stay with right now?"
Piper shook her head. "My gramps is in a care home. My only other relative is my uncle, and he's in another state."
"I understand. You're more than welcome to stay at the station if you want," he said, gesturing towards his partner's patrol car that had just pulled up along the street. "We could set up a bed for you in one of the offices."
"It's okay, thanks. I'll just sleep in my own bed and wait for CPS here."
"Alright. If you need anything just call, okay?"
"I will. Thanks again, Officer."
"You bet."
Piper watched him walk down the driveway and get into the patrol car. Officer McKenzie had driven her back home using her parents' car, and now it was hers. It had taken only a few minutes for her to become an orphan. A part of her remained in shock, unwilling to believe what had happened.
Closing the front door behind her, Piper walked over to the couch inside the living room and sat down on it with a heavy sigh. A slight sense of guilt manifested into her subconscious; it seemed her deepest, darkest wish had suddenly come true. No, I wanted to be alone, but I never wanted Mom and Dad to die.
She was too exhausted to cry anymore. The single light coming from the adjoining kitchen cast the rest of the house in deep shadow. Dawn would be coming soon, and they would probably take her away, doubtless to be placed in foster care.
They can't just put me in one of those facilities, she thought. I'll be an adult real soon, then they'll just kick me out again. It's not fair!
When she was being questioned at the police station, she’d only given the barest details of how she escaped the massacre. Piper never told them the assailants had been actively looking for her, even knowing her name. She wasn't sure why, but her instincts were telling her it would be even more dangerous to tell them everything.
Her thoughts strayed from grief over to suspicion. How did those shooters know who I was? Don't tell me I was their target all along?
The police had told her there had been four of them, and now they were all dead. Two white males, one black, and one Hispanic, all killed in a gun battle. They didn't think it was gang related since the suspects wore no associated colors or even had any tattoos. The deceased shooters were still in the process of being identified, but Piper had overheard one of the duty sergeants telling the detectives on the scene that the assailants had no ID of any kind on them.
Who were those maniacs? They just seemed to come out of the blue.
A sense of paranoia quickly washed over her as Piper got up, turned on all the lights, and nervously searched the house, just in case someone was in there. After confirming that the three-bedroom bungalow was empty except for herself, she walked into the kitchen and made sure the rear entrance was bolted tight before making her way back to the main door and slipping the chain lock into place.
The cops said they were all dead, but they never found out how they got to the hospital. Maybe there was a getaway car and someone else was driving it? They could be on their way here.
Reaching for the phone on the table by the sofa, she hesitated. No, this is too crazy. I'm not gonna call them. There's nobody else in here but me.
"Piper."
She instantly reacted, letting out a terror-filled shriek while twisting her head back and forth but failing to see anything. A child's voice just said her name. The whole living room and kitchen was brightly lit, and she wasn't sure where the sound came from.
"Piper," the high-pitched voice repeated.
The second utterance she heard was too much, and Piper fell off the couch, screaming at the top of her lungs before curling up into a fetal position on the carpeted floor. "Help me! Someone help me!"
A neighbor's dog started barking in the distance. Piper clenched her eyes shut while wrapping her arms over her head. It sounded like the same voice she had heard during the shooting inside the hospital, telling her to run.
Snapping her eyes open, Piper stayed on the ground, her eyes scanning the room, hoping for some sort of realistic explanation. Is there a kid hiding inside this house? No, I looked. I'm the only one here.
After letting out a deep breath, Piper got to her knees. Are there voices inside my head? Maybe I'm going crazy.
The reflection of vehicle headlights coming from the drawn windows beside the front door made her stand up, and Piper promptly recovered from her fright. Oh good, maybe it's the cops, coming to check up on me.
When she pulled one side of the curtains open, Piper felt somewhat relieved to see a man and a woman get out of a sedan that had just been parked in front of the house. The couple wore formal business attire and looked rather ordinary as they walked up to the front door carrying soft leather briefcases, even though it was the middle of the night.
Piper opened the door before they could even ring the bell. Are they detectives or something?
The woman was closest to her. She held her hand out towards Piper and smiled. "Oh, I see you were already awake and expecting us. I'm Ellen Jackson, from CPS." The woman gestured at the equally smiling man now standing beside her. "And this is my partner, Daniel Greene."
After shaking the woman's hand, Piper scratched the back of her neck in confusion. "CPS? I thought I was going to get a visit from you tomorrow or something?"
Greene kept up his disarming smile. "Well, with over half the city still talking about the UFO incident and now the hospital shooting, I figured we would just drop on by and see how you were doing. May we come in?"
Piper stepped back and gestured for them to follow her inside. "Yeah, sure."
"Thank you," Ellen said as she stepped into the living room before her expression turned solemn. "First of all, I am so sorry for your loss, Piper. I can't even imagine how traumatic it would be to lose both your parents like that."
"It's okay," Piper said softly.
Daniel moved towards the couch after closing the door behind him. "Why don't we sit down? We were hoping to brief you on the type of services we provide sometime tomorrow, but since you're fully awake like us, why not just discuss it now? It will only take a few minutes."
"I guess so," Piper said. "Do you want anything to drink? I think there's orange juice in the fridge. I can make some coffee too if you’d like that."
"We're fine, thanks," Ellen said as she sat down on the couch. "Please, sit here with me."
Piper threw herself onto the other end of the couch, right in between the two CPS representatives. Daniel placed his briefcase on the ground in front of him and was reaching into it, apparently looking for some sort of paperwork.
