The Awakening

A violent storm raged outside the farmhouse throwing sheets of rain against the home’s windows with an irregular clattering like pebbles in a tin can. Intermittent flashes of lightning painted silhouettes of tree branches on the floor, followed by the muffled growl of distant thunder that rumbled through the house, rattling a loose window pane.

Against the far wall of his bedroom, John Brun tossed and turned in his bed, possessed by a wild nightmare. He thrashed about, mumbling anguished, incomprehensible words. Sweat covered every inch of his body and matted his short black hair to his head. 

As a bolt of lightning split the night and thunder exploded in the house with a deafening clap, John’s eyes flew open. 

He rose like a corpse into a sitting position and stared with unfocused eyes at the dark hallway outside his bedroom door. 

Words that had not formed in his mind passed his lips. “They’re coming,” he said, as if in a trance. “They found us.” 

  “Now Duke! Advance your line!”

Duke drew his side arm and raised it high into the air. The marines in his line took their rifles off their shoulders and held them at the ready. 

“Oorah!” they cried in unison. 

Duke motioned forward with his pistol and the line advanced down the slope, under the cover of trees, and right into a few of the enemy fleeing up from the murderous fire in the valley below. Although their featureless faces could not show it, they were shocked at the sudden appearance of a second line of humans. Shots rang out from the line, and they fell. For good measure, marines skewered them with bayonets as the line swept over their bodies. 

“When you hit that tree line, the jig will be up,” Shiloh screamed over the cacophony of battle. “You’ll have time for one long volley, then you need to charge. You need to close that distance as quickly as possible!” 

The line advanced. 

“Get ready!” Duke cried, as they neared the tree line.

“Oorah!” the entire line screamed, civilians and marines. 

They hit the tree line and saw at least a hundred of the enemy at the base of the slope, climbing toward them. The valley below was in absolute chaos. 

“FIRE!”

A murderous rain of bullets poured down on the aliens from the left slope as Hector continued to pour it on them from the mouth of the valley.

The surprise was complete. Their mortuus busy on the right, the aliens were caught in a vice, and were being mowed down. 

“Bayonet CHARGE!” Duke yelled, even as the firing from the line continued. 

Three hundred screaming men and women poured out of the tree line and down into the valley. A few of the aliens managed to draw weapons as if from their thighs and fired into the line. The results were disastrous, as entire sections of the line exploded into pink mist. But the sheer number of people rushing down the short toe of the hill quickly overwhelmed them, breaking upon them in an angry wave. 

From the opposite side of the valley, John saw the charge. He jumped to his feet and waved his weapon in the air. “Marines, follow me!” he screamed, running to the valley floor from the right slope while summoning his weapon from its pouch.