Dulce Base (The Dulce Files Book 1) (2 page)

He still remembered the sight of those…things in the cages.  Some had half-human half-animal combinations. There’d been the ‘man’ with the hands of a seal and the ‘legs’ as well. A woman that looked more like a unicorn, dogs with human heads, bat-like humans that were 7 feet tall, and things that looked like ten people all stuck together, their faces a mask of bewilderment, pain and anguish. It was the stuff of nightmares, there was no denying it.

The Reptilians were something else entirely. They wore no clothes, just a sort of utility belt that held some of its weapons, and had large claw-like talons on their dinosaur-like feet. What always sent a shiver down Reggie’s spine, however, were the yellow, slit-serpentine eyes shining out of those hideous, scaled-bodies. That and the God-awful hissing sound they made when angry. It was they who came to the cages and fed the creatures, and the humans that had yet to be turned into them. And feeding was no easy task. Because of the level of genetic experimentation that’d gone on, several liquid substances needed to be prepared each day, all given out according to the…things’ needs.

The proper name for Level 6 was the ‘Vivarium,’ although what the hell that meant Reggie didn’t really have a clue. He remembered when he’d first started at the base, when they’d still been passing the Manual around. It’d described Level 6 as “a private subterranean bio-terminal park, with accommodations for animals, fish, fowl, reptile, and mankind.”  That was one way of putting it, but there was no way Reggie was ever going to think of cages and tanks as ‘accommodations.’

And of course those poor souls were nothing more than chattel, sustenance for the Grays, the dying race that’d started it all, from outer space that is. It began with a few abductions, then the treaties, but when humans proved incapable of giving them all they needed, cattle were turned to. How long those mutilations would be able to be kept quiet was beyond Reggie, but he suspected not much longer. And God did he hope so. The blood of the animals, and that from many of the humans as well, was used to keep the Grays alive, put into the vats where the creatures bathed and soaked up the life essence. The plasma and amniotic fluid were the best, the prime rib of the humans as far as the Grays were concerned. Thankfully they sated themselves on parasitic plants as well, the sap from some even capable of ‘powering’ them for months.

Reggie shook off the thought and slowed the vehicle as he finally came out of the last of the long and winding ramp from Level 1…and immediately narrowed his eyes. 

Is that what I think…
sure enough, it was.  Three Zeta Reticulan Grays were standing there, the tall grey bastards with big black eyes, no nose to speak of, and that slit mouth that never spoke. Most of the time they were just called ‘Ret. Four’s,’ meaning they were from the fourth planet of the Zeta II Reticuli system, and where the hell that was Reggie had no idea. These ones were a slight shade of green, Reggie noticed, meaning they hadn’t ‘fed’ in awhile, and were more likely to be vicious because of it.

That wasn’t really what had Reggie’s attention, however. It was the large group of military personnel – the first he’d seen since entering the base – that really threw him.  All had weapons, something that wasn’t odd but wasn’t that common either, and the air in the place had an edge to it, something Reggie could feel even from the safety of his cab.  He stopped the vehicle a good hundred yards from the group, who, he now saw, were right near the recently installed antimatter reactor.  He rolled down the window of the cab and then crouched down in the seat as best he could, staying out of sight, listening, just like he had in the mud in Vietnam.

Outside in the tunnel a hundred yards away looked to be fifty scientists accompanied by about half as many soldiers. The soldiers all had machine guns while ahead of them the Grays had flash guns. Colonel Michaels saw this and frowned, then stepped forward.

“We’re here for the presentation, like you asked. What do–”

“Quiet,” one of the Gray’s said, or more properly ‘sent,’ for the word was ‘heard’ in everyone’s mind but not by a single ear. Even Reggie back in the truck a hundred yards away got the message loud and clear.

Colonel Michaels closed his mouth and firmed his jaw and stared into the large black eyes on the Gray’s oversized head. He’d long ago gotten over his fear of the things, knowing that they sensed that emotion miles away, like they did all irrational thought. It was keeping the mind rational, logical, but also skipping about in abstract ways that weren’t easy to follow telepathically,
that
was the secret to undermining the Gray’s dominant hold in all situations with the humans, of which there were increasingly many.

The Gray stared back at him, then sent out the message, “disarm.”

“What?” Colonel Michaels said, looking from that leading Gray to its two companions gathered around the antimatter reactor.  “What do you mean ‘disarm?’ We’ve never had to do that before.”

“You’ll do it now,” another message came, this one seemingly from one of the other Grays, although how Colonel Michaels or any of the others could tell was beyond their ability to explain.

Colonel Michaels shook his head. “I won’t.”

There was no message this time, just the feeling imparted that that was that, the conversation was over, as was the meeting
and
everyone’s life. It was known instantly, as you’d know a breeze was blowing your hair.

Colonel Michaels reacted and managed to get his right hand up, the one holding his machine gun, a fraction of an inch, or about as much as he could in a few fractions of a second. After that the psionic blast from the leading Gray in front of him cut into his forehead and blew his brains out the back of his head as sure as a gunshot at point blank range would. Brain-matter flew all over the soldiers behind him, but they were trained and didn’t hesitate as their commander’s body began falling to the floor.  Neither did the Grays.

Before Colonel Michaels’ body was on the floor several more mind blasts came, each blowing the brains out of an unsuspecting soldier. In a matter of moments the floor was littered with a dozen bodies.

For the soldiers’ part, they reacted quickly. Machine guns were hoisted and aimed, but trigger fingers suddenly weighed a thousand pounds and wouldn’t move.

“Their minds!” one soldier managed to shout out, and a second later his head exploded in an unseen blast.

“Ed…Ed!” another soldier shouted, staring across the few feet that separated him from his nearest companion, Ed Childers, member of Delta Force for more than a year, but now staring with wide and frightened eyes as his arm seemingly moved against his will, pointing the machine gun his companions’ way.

“Ed…no!” Ben Dean shouted again, but it was too late. Ed raised the gun up and suddenly his trigger finger wasn’t so heavy and was now moving toward its goal, exactly when he didn’t want it to. His eyes began to water as his mind revolted against what he was about to do, but his body couldn’t object.  The machine gun fired to life.

Ben Dean was mowed down as were a dozen soldiers around him.  Ed kept firing and crying and trying to say he was sorry but he couldn’t stop. The firing continued and then–

BANG!

It was a single shot, but the bullet went right into Ed’s forehead and stopped that finger from firing. He fell to the floor dead and Gus Tine gritted his teeth and reached down to grasp the bullet wound in his side, the one he’d just taken from Ed. He’d been lucky enough to survive, unlike many of his companions now lying dead beside him.

“Start shooting, our wounds stopped ‘em!” he shouted to the other wounded men around him, just three that looked capable of firing.  Of them, two nodded and reached for their weapons, and Gus directed his attention back to the three Grays still standing near the antimatter machine.  He took careful aim and–

“Shit!” Chris Evans said as he saw Gus’s brains blow out the back of his head, another one of those mind blasts from the aliens. He glanced over at Doug Best, who was the only other one down on the ground with him. Doug had his machine gun up and got a few rounds off, right at one of the Grays and then–

“Shit,” Chris muttered again as Doug’s brains exploded out of his head. He gritted his teeth, raised his pistol up to his eye, aimed, and fired.  The Gray ahead of him – its name was beyond human comprehension – had sensed what Doug was doing, but just a hair too late. The 9mm bullet slammed into the small space between its two black eyes and it jumped back a step involuntarily, then began to fall back slowly. It was dead before it hit the cold steel floor of the tunnel.

A shout went out, but that wasn’t quite right, it was more a mental blast of anguish, and it came from the two remaining Grays.  They unleashed their fury at the same time they unleashed their reserves. The door behind them that led into one of the many smaller storage chambers opened up and several Reptilians poured forth, each armed with a flash gun.

On the floor Doug was able to smile at his kill before his head exploded like an overripe melon, the mental blast from two Grays hitting him at once. Blood and brains showered those soldiers still around, of which there were few.

The initial firing and mind blasts had taken out more than forty of the scientists and nearly all of the thirty soldiers. The remaining scientists had managed to run back into the tunnels, most heading toward the ramps leading up to Level 1.  Some of the soldiers also cut and run, although some were actually pulling back in face of the alien onslaught of mind blasts, trying to protect the fleeing scientists, as was their main duty. Now that Reptilians were pouring forth, and with flash guns, it was a whole new ballgame.

“Run!” a voice shouted, one of the few soldiers still standing near the antimatter reactor, and immediately he became the target of every Reptilian rushing in. It only took one blast from a flash gun and he was vaporized instantly, not a trace of him but a smote of dust that fell to the floor in a barely discernible pile.

That pile was trampled over a moment later by the scaled toe on one of the Reptilians’ feet, the large claw-like talons dashing it into oblivion. The thing wore no clothes, just a sort of utility belt that held some of its weapons. Many around it began hitting a small, orange button on those belts, allowing them to vanish instantly from sight. This one simply raised its gun and ran forth, its slit-serpentine eyes shining out as its scaled-body descended upon the mayhem.  The creature made a hissing sound and raised its flashgun up, taking aim on another soldier, then firing.  The man had been rushing toward the elevator that would lead to the surface, and was vaporized instantly. Several scientists were also rushing that way, and they met the same fate.

In the truck Reggie could hear the scratching and scraping of the Reptilians’ feet as they ran through the tunnel, hunting down the fleeing humans. The sounds were getting closer, closer to his truck, and he knew he had to do something.  His eyes began to move back and forth in a panic as he thought.
What weapon is there? What can I use? How can I–

The door to the cab flew open and Reggie bolted up from where he’d been crouching down on the seat, tears of fear coming to his eyes, ready to spill out over that black teardrop tattoo. A Reptilian was there, its broad snout just inches from his face, its yellow and serpentine eyes showing no sign of emotion. In its hand was a flash gun. Reggie’s eyes went wide. He managed to open his mouth in an attempt to shout ‘no’ when the alien fired…and everything went black.

Part I

1 – War

Back Alleys – Vientiane, Laos

Monday, December 22, 1975

Turnicot Dupree ran through the rubble-strewn alley and hoped to hell he’d make it to the LZ.
What the hell am I doing this far into the capital, anyways?

His thoughts were quickly interrupted as a Laotian fighter suddenly sprang out at him from around the next bend. Turn was out of ammo – even though he was still carrying his 9mm – but the soldier didn’t know that, and Turn brought the gun up as if to shoot.  The move bought him a few precious seconds as the Laotian soldier dove back the way he’d come, no doubt scared to death of the tall black man in front of him. Turn did have scowling eyebrows and a pencil-thin mustache that covered a pair of sneering lips, lips that’d grown up not taking any Mississippi sass, and lips that sure the hell weren’t going to take any Asian bullshit.

“Got him!” Turn shouted over his shoulder to his partner Dan, then dashed forward, turned around the corner, and slammed the butt of the 9mm pistol down where he expected the man’s head to be, and where it was.  The man crumpled to the ground and Turn reached down to–

BOOM!

Turnicot opened his eyes and dust immediately filled them. He closed them again and brought his hands up, rubbing at them for a moment, then opened them again. There was more dust, but at least this time he could keep his eyes open.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he said, disappointed in himself, not believing that he could miss the tell-tale sound of an incoming mortar round.

He looked over and saw Dan lying there, clenching his leg, or what was left of it, for it now gone and had blood squirting out everywhere.

“Oh, shit!” Turn said, then began to move over to him.  “What the hell just–”

Turn’s words were cutoff as bullets ripped into their position, one of them striking Dan right in the forehead and causing his eyes to go wide, then lifeless.  Turn’s own eyes went wide at the sight, and then he got his head down.