X war infestation, p.1
X WAR: Infestation, page 1
X WAR: Infestation
John Triptych
Published by John Triptych, 2019.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
X WAR: INFESTATION
First edition. August 10, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 John Triptych.
Written by John Triptych.
Also by John Triptych
Expatriate Underworld
The Opener
The Loader
Stars in Shadow
Nepenthe Rising
Shards of Eternity
Wild Sargasso Space
The Dying World
Lands of Dust
City of Delusions
The Maker of Entropy
The Dying World Omnibus
Wrath of the Old Gods
The Glooming
Canticum Tenebris
A World Darkly
Wrath of the Old Gods Boxed Set 1
Wrath of the Old Gods (Young Adult)
Pagan Apocalypse
The Fomorians
Eye of Balor
Wrath of the Old Gods: Box Set 2
Standalone
Stars in Shadow Omnibus 1
X WAR: Infestation
Watch for more at John Triptych’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By John Triptych
Dedication
1 Oregon
2 London
3 Simi Valley
4 Tianjin
5 Utah
6 Oregon
7 London
8 Washington, DC
9 Santa Barbara
10 Long Island
11 Beijing
12 Oregon
13 London
14 Utah
15 Portland
16 Beijing
17 Oregon
18 Utah
19 Prague
20 Oregon
21 Ürümqi
22 Castle Rock
23 Scotland
24 Washington, DC
25 Ordos
26 Portland
27 Scotland
28 Vashon Island
29 Ochoco National Forest
30 Scotland
31 Virginia
32 Ordos
33 Utah
34 Toronto
35 Olympia
36 Ordos
37 England
38 Virginia
39 Utah
40 Niagara Falls
41 Ordos
42 Los Angeles
43 England
44 Utah
45 Ordos
46 Nevada
47 Ordos
48 Utah
49 Virginia
50 Utah
51 Virginia
52 Utah
53 Las Vegas
54 Inner Mongolia
55 Washington, DC
56 Mongolia
57 Utah
58 Beijing
59 Mongolia
60 Washington, DC
61 Ordos
62 Washington, DC
63 Unknown Location
64 Oregon
65 Texas
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Further Reading: Nepenthe Rising
Also By John Triptych
About the Author
To all those that believe there is something out there.
1 Oregon
THIRTY KILOMETERS NORTHEAST of Prineville the paved roads ended, transforming into dirt trails that inclined upwards to the high desert region. Moderately spaced forests of pine grew over the rocky soil, while the less wooded patches of ground had occasional clumps of sagebrush nestled around tufts of hardy frontier grass.
Austin Bravy sat down with a tired sigh on the cleft of a black boulder, peering down at the valley floor below. He was glad to be back in his home state, but his grandmother's house in Portland was over a hundred and fifty kilometers away to the northwest of where he was staying at, and he wished he was closer.
The last few months were just crazy, the young boy thought. His daddy, whom he hadn't seen in person since he was a toddler, came back into his life and everything went topsy-turvy. Austin remembered the time they spent in Wyoming with a local militia, of being taught about guns and how the government was evil and corrupted by Jews and aliens.
Austin placed his hands into the side pockets of his windbreaker, trying to warm them up. Now we're here living with another prepper family, but at least they’re less preachy than the Denglers were.
Daddy came into the cabin one night and got them out of Wyoming. Austin was thrilled when his father told him and his mom that they would be headed back to Oregon, only to be disappointed again when they ended up here, out in the middle of nowhere.
His mom just sort of accepted being stuck in the frontier, because Austin believed she really loved his dad. Truth be told, the boy was happy that his family was back together, though a big part of him still missed his videogames and hanging around with his friends back in Portland.
The boy shrugged listlessly as he looked down at the large bits of black rock jutting out from the yellowish grass on the ground. He had heard the news about schools sitting half empty now, with parents being so fearful of another alien attack that they kept their children inside the house, all the while building fallout shelters in their backyards, if they had the space.
It's like I'm living another life now, he thought. The aliens had changed everything. At first the TV news and talk shows had speculated about peaceful contact, but when the attacks in California and Nevada happened, everybody started talking about the end of the world. Invasion from outer space was on everyone's lips these days.
Austin blew out a deep breath. Maybe Daddy is right. He said we’ll be safer up here. The aliens always attack the big cities, where most of the people are.
The boy's mind quickly shifted back into the here and now when he heard an adolescent male's holler echoing from afar. "Hey Austin, where in the hell are you?"
He stood up, and looked around. That would be Seth, the Brown family's oldest boy. Austin turned his head back and forth, until he finally spotted a lanky youth wearing an orange hunter vest and baseball cap waving at him nearly a hundred meters away from an adjacent hill. He quickly waved back.
Seth was a pale fifteen-year-old with dark curly hair, and he had an old Remington 870 pump shotgun loaded with birdshot slung over his shoulder. He pointed towards the crest of another hill to the north. "I didn't find any more rabbits. It's getting late, so I'll meet you back at the fort."
Austin cupped his hands to amplify his reply. "Okay, I'm on my way back."
Even though Seth had taken him along to hunt for cottontails, Austin had eventually gotten separated from him. He didn't have a gun, and the Browns continued to adhere to the local hunting laws, which meant that Austin wasn't allowed to shoot since he needed a certified adult mentor, and he didn't have a youth license either.
Instead of just following the older boy around, Austin decided to wander off, to be alone with his thoughts. He didn't want to be stuck at the compound all day because he hated having to do menial work like doing the dishes or chopping wood. We only get electricity when the generator runs a few hours each day, so I can't even use any of my gaming stuff.
Trudging along the side of the hill he began to pout. I'm bored. Bored, bored, bored. If the aliens are gonna attack again I wish they’d hurry up and do it already. At least there'll be some excitement.
The late afternoon sun had already dipped below the surrounding hills, and a blanket of rapidly cooling dusk had begun to cast long shadows over the terrain. Austin continued his slow pace since his legs were already tired from all the hiking he'd done earlier.
A low pitched moan quickly stopped him in his tracks. The boy looked around nervously, his right hand moving towards the hunting knife attached to his belt. What was that?
Austin's eyes began to dart around. It seemed there were shadows behind every pine tree. He wasn't sure where the sound had come from, but it seemed somewhat close by.
He tried to remember what Seth's father had told him about these woods. Deer, elk, coyotes, even the occasional cougar lived in these parts. Levi said that there are no bears here, but it sure sounded like one I think.
"Anybody out here?" Austin asked aloud. He had been taught to make himself known so as not to stumble into the paws of a surprised black bear if he encountered one. Quickly remembering what he had been given, he took out a small canister of pepper spray from his jeans pocket.
The boy nearly jumped as another moan was heard, a guttural squeal, like some sort of large animal in pain. As his mind tried to identify what kind of beast could make such a weird sound, he shifted his gaze over to what looked like a cluster of black rocks to his left and froze.
A shallow cavern. It was his first time spent on this side of the property, yet he was sure he had moved along this very same part of the hill before, but had never even spotted a cavern entrance—until now.
Austin carried a small penlight attached to his belt. Pulling it out, he activated a faint beam of illumination as he began to edge closer to the mouth of the cave. It didn't sound like a bear, he thought.
With a mix of curiosity and courage, the boy used his free hand to scramble up a bit, until he could get a clear view of what was insi
Even though the tall creature huddling inside the shallow cave had fur covering most of its body, its face was remarkably humanlike, with a saddened look as it gave out a slightly softer moan than before.
The being's whimpering cry kept Austin from running away. It seemed like a universal call for help as the apelike creature's hairy arms continued to clutch the sides of its wide torso, revealing thick black liquid oozing out slightly from an apparent wound on its right hip.
Austin blinked several times to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "You're a Bigfoot, aren't you?"
The creature continued to stare back at him, while exhaling a deep breath that smelled faintly of rotten pine.
Austin leaned in closer, pulled out a strip of venison jerky from the inside of his windbreaker and offered it to the apelike creature. "You're hurt. Do you want some food?"
The brown furred Sasquatch seemed to nod as it slowly reached out and accepted the piece of dried meat from the boy's hands.
"I'm sorry I don't have any more," Austin said regretfully. "I-I can try to get help, do you want me to do that for you?"
The creature made an inhaling noise before wagging a finger at the boy.
Austin could hardly believe it. Apparently the Bigfoot could understand him. "So you don't want my family to help?"
The creature locked eyes with him once more. This time Austin's mind was filled with a jumble of mental images, sounds, and sensations. The cascade of thoughts was too much, and the boy suddenly fell backwards, his buttocks landing on a flattened boulder behind him.
"Ooww," Austin said as he rubbed his throbbing temples. It felt like the creature had somehow communicated by mental thoughts alone, and he had somewhat understood. The information overload was a bit too much for him to handle though.
The Sasquatch leaned back, trying its best not to strain its injured body.
Getting back on his knees, Austin tried to remember what the creature had just told him by telepathy. "So you could use my help, but you don't want the others in my group to know. Right?"
The creature nodded.
"Okay," Austin said. "You'll be my super secret. I'll come back tomorrow and get you some more food, and maybe something to stitch your wound, okay?"
2 London
DELICATELY WEAVING his way behind a group of camera operators filming the early evening demonstration at the other end of the street, Alasdair Thorne continued on until he made it into a throng of onlookers who were standing around to watch the spectacle unfold.
The peace demonstrators were a diverse lot of young and old, gluing themselves onto the side of busses and lampposts, or just sitting down in the middle of the street, silently waving signs titled MAKE PEACE WITH THE ALIENS and STOP FIGHTING OUR BETTERS. A few even had signs signaling surrender, while counter-protestors held up placards like APPEASEMENT NEVER WORKS and WE SHALL FIGHT THEM IN OUR LIVING ROOMS—WE SHALL NEVER SURRENDER, all the while goading the other side for a physical confrontation.
If only all these fools knew what was truly coming, Thorne thought as he increased his pace, now that he had gotten clear of most of the crowd.
World euphoria over Task Force Zero's victory in Africa had been quickly tempered when a huge UFO suddenly appeared over the skies of Antwerp a few weeks later, and bombarded the Belgian city with blasts of blue lightning, completely obliterating large areas of it. Casualties were in the hundreds of thousands, and the attack threw global society into turmoil.
For the past few months Thorne had been crisscrossing the Atlantic, attending meetings in Downing Street, the White House, and at the UN headquarters in New York City. Every politician he knew felt powerless, and a growing movement of submission to the aliens had steadily gained in strength as the months passed, despite their leaders' pleas for patience and solidarity. Humanity was now beginning to come apart at the seams.
One step closer, Thorne thought as he rounded a curve on the street and proceeded to walk towards his home. Ascension is just about to be upon us all.
The memories of his wife came over him as he got closer to his abode. He had planned to tell Grace everything eventually, and wondered how she would take it all, but in the end his contingencies became moot when the Cabal had her murdered, as a consequence of his killing of Gleb Denikin, the Russian FSB director. Ah well, perhaps it is better this way. You may not have wholly accepted our fate, my dear, dear Grace. At least you are at peace now.
Just as he got to the front steps of his terraced house, Thorne pivoted sideways as someone caught his eye. A young, well-built black man stood by the side of the street a dozen meters away.
Thorne instantly recognized him: Nigel, one of MI5's watchers. Trained in surveillance and other clandestine activities of the profession, Thorne had used him for a number of jobs, and Nigel's presence so near his house couldn't be attributed to mere coincidence.
MI5's deputy director quickly stiffened as his demeanor became guarded. Something is happening, but what?
Nigel began to walk closer. Thorne could see that the other man's empty hands were out in the open, but he knew that there might well be others in the area who would be wielding weapons to take him out. He works for the Cabal, Thorne thought. Are they here to bring me in for a meeting, or to kill me?
The younger man stopped, just over a meter away from where Thorne was standing. "I need you to come with me, sir."
"What for?"
"The chief wants to have a word, sir."
By chief he means Sir Colin Tillinghast, the head of MI6, Thorne thought. "Why would he send you? The Secret Service has their own lads to do their work for them."
"I don't know, sir. Perhaps his own people are busy, or maybe he doesn't trust them."
He decided to play along for now. If I refuse, they might shoot me in the middle of the street and chalk it up to the chaos caused by those nearby protestors. "Where are we going?"
Nigel pointed towards a BMW sedan parked by the lane. "I'm to take you to a safehouse, sir."
"A safehouse? For my protection?"
"Yes, sir."
"Alright."
Thorne followed the other man towards the rear doors of the vehicle. The BMW already had a driver, another man whom he didn't recognize. Thorne quickly got into the backseat, right behind the driver, and the car sped off after Nigel climbed in and closed the door.
The traffic around Belgravia had gotten thick because of the protests, and the BMW's driver had to weave in and out of wrong way lanes, ignoring the accusing car horns from other frustrated motorists.
Thorne pretended to look out the window, even though he was carefully scanning the vehicle's interior. "Where's the safehouse at?"
"Kensal Green, sir," Nigel said. "It isn't far."
The BMW's driver angrily honked the car horn at another vehicle trying to swerve in front of it. "Bloody protests, they're jamming the motorway up ahead."
Nigel leaned back, looking bored. "Take your time. We're not in a hurry."
Thorne tried to appear relaxed, using subtle yoga breathing techniques to keep his anxiety level at a reasonably controlled state. "Did Tillinghast mention what kind of threat it was?"
"I believe it had something to do with a number of Chinese assets who've arrived in the country, sir."
The Dowager, he thought, referring to his Chinese counterpart in the Cabal. She probably found out that I was the one who tipped off Task Force Zero with regards to the outpost she was building in the Sudan. Now she wants revenge. "And Tillinghast is positive that I am the target?"
"That's what I was told, sir."
It's good of Colin to still be looking out for me. "Did he say how long I'll be in the safehouse?"
"He didn't say, sir."
The walkie-talkie that was attached to the driver's belt began to squawk. A second man's voice came over the channel. "Car One, what's your ETA, over?"
Pulling out the communications device from his waistband, the driver used his left hand to answer. "Traffic's a mess. Give us another ten minutes, over."
"Affirmative, out."
That voice on the other end sounded familiar, Thorne thought, pulling out a smartphone from underneath his coat pocket. "Excuse me, I have to make a call."
