Battle for the Earth (22 page)

It was at this point the patrols started to come into contact with some distressed, confused and badly injured civilians. Between the two patrols they picked up six in total, all badly injured. Trying to keep them alive until they got back to the base at Manassas would be a job in itself.

When the patrols did return, they had already lost another two of the civilians to their grievous wounds. The remaining four were taken straight to the makeshift infirmary for treatment.

The patrol commanders reported back to Mark. The news wasn’t good. The snipers had all been killed the same way by decapitation, and not cleanly: their heads had literally been torn off, in the most sadistic way possible. Then there was the civilians who had been found, and the death of two of them on the way back to base.

Mark was trying to take all of this in when news of another civilian death on the operating table reached him. This only left three.

Mark slammed his fist down on the table in frustration.

‘We need to get inside that Annunaki base and find out what’s going on in there. I’ve got a really bad feeling about all this,’ he groaned

Mark was in luck. One of his resistance commanders, Bill Graham, had been an architect for a building contractor, who a few years ago had carried out renovations to the sewer tunnels in the labyrinth underneath Dulles International Airport. The main Dulles Potomac interceptor sewer system was readily accessible and led right underneath the airport. This was the way to get in undetected. Mark couldn’t believe his luck at finding his own personal guide, someone who had actually worked and drawn up plans of the maze of tunnels. They would enter the tunnels of the sewer system at Fairfax and then travel north-west. Bill Graham had drawn a map of the intended route and adjoining tunnels, and had also planned an alternative route and two escape routes.

The team Mark had put together were specialists in demolitions, ex-special forces, even an ex-CIA agent, with of course himself and Bill, around forty in all. The entry point would be a manhole at the junction of Lee Highway and Main Street.

Once the party had safely entered the sewer tunnel, they headed north then swung west, following the directions on Bill’s map. Mark was surprised at the size and scale of the sewer tunnels, although they were very damp, and extremely smelly, with five or six inches of surface water -no, water was the wrong description. It was actually sludge of varying consistency, oozing all over the concrete walkway. Rats were everywhere - at least Mark assumed they were rats - you wouldn’t be able to tell from the size of them. They were as big as cats. Mark couldn’t help wondering what they ate, then quickly dismissed the thought from his mind.

Bill had warned that the journey would take the group anywhere up to five hours, depending on how well they progressed.

In the sweltering heat underground it was hard going, Mark had insisted that they stop every hour, and drink at least a litre of water to keep them hydrated.

Three hours into the so-far uneventful journey they had stopped for the usual water break, but this time they also ate a high-energy snack of fruit, apples, pears and bananas, followed by a medium-sized bar of chocolate.

After three hours of acclimatisation to the sewers the food was easier to stomach. In pleasanter surroundings it could almost have been a picnic.

Twenty minutes later the party set off again on the next leg of their journey. Bill had worked out that on their last stop for water they would be under a town called Floris, right on the Annunaki perimeter around Dulles. At this point Bill would refer to a more detailed map so Mark could decide where to break surface within the Dulles complex.

Bill and two ex-special forces soldiers were now on point. The sludge that covered the ground they were walking on had become much thicker and denser in consistency, and even the rats seemed larger. The light was poor and it was very difficult to see for any distance.

Bill was checking the identification markings on each of the ladders leading to the manhole covers on the surface. He signalled to Mark to stop for the last water break of the journey, as he figured they were now under Floris. Bill reached into his backpack and finished the last of his water for the outbound journey, and pulled out the detailed map. Mark joined him at the front of the group.

‘OK, Bill, are we under Floris now?’

Bill nodded, still studying the map.

‘Yes, now we’ve got three or four options. It just depends where you want to come up at Dulles.’

‘I think the best place would be central, somewhere around the main terminal.’

Bill tapped on the sheet of paper.

‘This is the tunnel we want, then.’

‘How long will it take?’

‘Twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes.’

‘OK, let’s get to it, then.’

Mark waved the group in the direction of the tunnel Bill had pointed out, and they started off down a smaller tunnel, which was quite cramped compared to the tunnels they had been walking down.

They had only travelled for about five minutes when they came to an unforeseen obstacle. Barring their way was a thick metal grill sunk into the concrete walls. It had a small metal gate which was secured by two large metal padlocks. Mark looked at Bill.

‘Shit! I forgot about these, airport security. When I was down here last we didn’t come out this far. They put them in to stop terrorist attacks.’

‘OK, not your fault. Are we going to meet more of them?’

Bill nodded

‘Probably.’

‘OK, so we need to find a way to get these padlocks off.’

Bill shrugged.

‘We’ll need to do it quietly. Any loud noise will travel right under the airport, then that’s our cover blown.’

Mark put his hand over his mouth and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

‘Acid. I’m sure we’ve got acid with us. The demolition guys will have some.’

Mark collected a bottle of powerful acid from one of the demolition men and, taking great care, squirted some into the keyholes of the padlocks, then stepped back smartly. Tiny puffs of smoke billowed from the padlocks, and then droplets of the acid began appearing on the bottom of the padlocks. All of a sudden the first padlock sprang open, followed quickly by the second.

‘Well done!’ said Bill slapping Mark on the back.

‘Too easy,’ said Mark ruefully.

He very gingerly removed each of the padlocks and threw the gate open.

‘After you, William,’ he said with a grin.

Even in adversity, mankind’s ability to make the best of things is astonishing, thought Bill.

After another five minutes there was another thick grill, again with a gate and padlock, which this time proved no obstacle at all. Twenty minutes later Bill called a halt to the group at a set of ladders thirty feet directly under a manhole cover.

‘This is it,’ he muttered, excitedly tapping the sheet of paper in his hand.

Mark signalled for everyone to get down on the ground and stay quiet. He began to climb the ladder, gradually inching his way up until he was directly under the manhole cover. Tentatively he raised the cover enough to look out across the surrounding area, Bill couldn’t have got it more right. They were next to a large complex which could only have been the main terminal.

Mark waited for a good five minutes. It was dark outside with very little lighting, so visibility was poor. This suited Mark. There would be less chance of them being spotted in the open. All the time Mark was watching there was absolutely no sign of movement, no guards, nothing.

He remembered the brutal and gory demonstration of the effectiveness of the perimeter security. It was clear that the Annunaki were relying mainly on the perimeter security as their main deterrent.

Replacing the manhole cover quietly in its groove, he slowly climbed back down the ladder and rejoined the group, congratulating Bill as he did so. After issuing his orders and splitting the group into four smaller units, the first unit of ten men emerged from the manhole and made their way to the main terminal, followed by two other units. The last ten men were left to secure the tunnel and the manhole above it along with the escape route from the terminal back to it.

Inside the terminal building it was pitch black. The three units split up in different directions and started to look for clues as to what exactly the Annunaki were up to.

All the units were using night-vision goggles, which made navigating through the terminal buildings considerably safer and easier. Mark could see in the distance some of the areas that were obviously occupied by the Annunaki. With lights blazing brightly they were making Mark’s job far easier, and circumventing these areas was simple.

Mark had ordered his other units to give it two hours of reconnaissance, then meet up with him back at the point they had separated. If nothing had been discovered by then, well - it wouldn’t be worth discovering.

The units were also equipped with night-vision cameras so that a record of the interiors of the buildings could be kept, highlighting any changes made by the Annunaki and also documenting which buildings the Annunaki were using regularly and what they were being used for.

As Mark’s team entered an annexe of the main terminal, they noticed a strong rotting smell. It was the smell of death, of rotting human torsos and limbs, flung everywhere with no regard for dignity or respect, just left to rot. These were the failed Sybote experiments, the 99 per cent of unfortunates who hadn’t made it into the Sybote club.

Appalled and disgusted as they were by the sights and smells that greeted them, Mark’s team were conscious that they still had a job to do and, in any case, this was obviously an important discovery.

After taking as many pictures as he could, Mark cut off some of the silver coating on one of the bodies. This involved the gruesome business of cutting the flesh to the bone as the material and structure wouldn’t separate from the body.

Mark and his men had now got all the intelligence they needed. It was time to return to the meeting point and the other units.

Slowly but surely the unit backtracked to the meeting point to await the arrival of the others. They wondered if they would have had as much success as Mark and his unit. Indeed, when the other units arrived back they all had their own stories to tell, but now wasn’t the time. Mark mainly wanted to get back out without being discovered, so that they would be able to use the sewers again, perhaps even for an all-out attack one day.

The three units slowly made their way back, first to the manhole then down the ladder into the relative safety of the sewer. Once everyone was back inside the sewer system of tunnels, Mark and Bill pored over the escape routes Bill had already highlighted, looking for the best one back directly to Manassas Park, as opposed to going to Fairfax.

The route they chose was going to be a gruelling six-hour journey, but if they were going to be using the sewer tunnels on a regular basis, it would be good training. Mark couldn’t wait to get back so he could scrutinise the intelligence they had gathered.

The return journey was as disciplined as the outward one. Each hour they would stop for a litre of water to keep themselves hydrated. At the third stop they would have a high-energy meal break and a twenty-minute rest. Bill along with two soldiers was point duty again, documenting every step of the way - all the different passages, grills, every aspect of the sewers - the more information the better.

**

40

The night had been an arduous one. It had actually taken seven hours to get back to the Manassas base, but after four hours’ sleep Mark was up and about again, putting all the intelligence gathered the night before into some semblance of order. It was starting to become very clear that the Annunakis were up to something and, whatever it was, it was big and nasty.

The operation had been a great success. They had penetrated deep into the heart of the Annunaki base and got out again without the Annunaki even noticing them. They had begun to chart the system of sewers all around them in such detail, that Mark had decided to make this a full-time job for Bill.

Mark was sitting at a dusty old table in the living room of one of the houses the resistance had commandeered. Trophies and photographs were strewn around the table awaiting investigation.

The Annunaki were obviously trying to turn humans into something. The photographic evidence from that horrendous room bore witness to that. What was the silver-like material and framework under it, and those ugly black hair-like things which almost seemed to be growing on the material?

Then there were the pieces of metal that had been picked up. Mark took a closer look at one. Then he had to take a second look. It was like a tiny scorpion. What the hell is it, he wondered?

He stood up and scanned the room as if looking for something. He went over to a dusty window ledge and picked up an old pair of glasses, dusted them down and returned to the table and the piece of metal. Holding the glasses a few inches away from the object magnified it three times.

‘It is, it’s a tiny little metal scorpion!’

He was no longer speaking to himself. Bill had joined him at the table and was desperately trying to get a good look at the object.