Читать книгу Invasion: Earth vs. the Aliens - Robert Reginald - Страница 7

PROLOGUE

BANG! BANG! YOU’RE DEAD!

You Only Live Twice.

—Ian Fleming

Alex Smith, 29 December, Mars Year i

Marin County, California, Planet Earth

I don’t know why I lived while so many others died.

I should have been killed.

I was chased and bruised and bent and broken and twisted every which way—and still I survived.

Why?

Why did I live while so many others died?

There has to be a reason.

* * * *

The blast rolled me into a ditch, along with the tattered jigsaw pieces of my late comrades-in-arms.

I remember hearing two successive explosions—blam! blat!—and being covered with dirt and leaves and branches and half an arm, leaving only my eyes and nose exposed. Then I watched the clouds scudding by above me, interspersed with wisps of green-and-black smoke, in a world made dim and deaf by the thunder of war. It was almost scary in a way.

But I wasn’t scared! I don’t think I really understood what was happening. My ears were ringing with the effects of the after-blast, but despite my temporary deafness, I could feel the rumble of something very large approaching.

Thud!

The ground belched and bolted and raised itself up. At first I thought “earthquake,” but then I figured it out: one of the alien monstrosities was striding boldly over the landscape towards me. I couldn’t see it and I couldn’t hear it, but I knew it was there nonetheless. I tried to move, but my limbs seemed paralyzed. My breath caught in my throat.

Thud! Thud!

The zap-zit of a death-ray flashed over my head and incinerated one of the trees down the road, making it a Roman candle of instant flame.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Closer and closer the machine strode. I thought I could hear someone crying in the distance, but I couldn’t have, could I?

“Help!” he screamed. “Help me!”

It might have been Mayer. It might have been Stromwick. Whoever it was, I couldn’t save them.

Thud! Thud! THUUUD!

A great metal pad splattered right down on top of me, straddling my narrow reserve. I could see the cross-pattern, the stitchery, if you will, of its fabric hanging right above my face. It paused for a moment to release another great zzzappp!—and someone from our squad replied in turn, the RPG striking twenty feet away. But the shadow of alien machine’s foot protected me, saving me from myself. I could feel the vibration of the metal fragments rattling off its armor.

And then it was gone, just like that!

I was free.

But still I couldn’t move.

I felt a pressure on my chest, as if the Martian were yet perched there, squeezing the life out of me, sucking it from my very heart. I’ll never forget that moment, however long I live.

Bang! Bang! You’re dead!

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

Was it me who was rumbling and rambling—or the alien?

Was I dead—or just barely alive?

Why did I live while so many others died?

Why?

I wish the bloody hell I knew.