A Small Gray Dot

The fighters carrying Molotov cocktails got all the way down to the lot and were taking cover among the burned out hulks before the Binqua figured out their shield was gone and the lasers didn’t work, and began firing rifles.

Everyone dove for cover. I hit the ground behind a small bush. It wouldn’t afford much protection but it was better than standing in the open. It did offer some concealment, and I had to be alive to get to the building that held the wedge.

Duncan crawled up next to me. He pointed toward the office building where, surprisingly, none of the windows had shattered from the earlier blast, though, a couple appeared to be cracked. I suppose the explosion wasn’t big enough or close enough to do much damage to the building.

“Most of the gunfire’s coming from the second floor, Tenn. I’m going to try taking out a window.”

“Take out one on the bottom, Duncan. Easier to reach those with the cocktails.”

Nobody could likely reach the second floor with a cocktail anyway. It would probably hit the side of the building, which would be a waste, but fires started on the bottom floor would work their way up. The sprinkler system might cut in but as Simon said, the fires would generate a lot of thick smoke.

He was lying on his stomach but he got his rifle high enough to fire and a window shattered.

Lem and Percy were hiding behind a couple of skinny trees, and they rose up and let loose with their rifles. Two more shattered.

Simon, hiding with the people who’d made it to the burned out vehicles, must’ve had the same idea because I heard him shout, “Get the bottom windows!”

Rifle-fire roared and more windows shattered.

Simon hollered, “Toss ‘em!”

I saw a flaming object go flying toward the building. It made it through a window, and the guys lit more bottles and flung them hard. A couple missed after all, smashing against the side of the building, the fire rolling harmlessly down the bricks but most went inside and shattered.

Then, the Binqua realized what was happening and began firing down at the wrecked vans. They were bad shots but I saw two fighters go down. By then, three men, one of them Lowell, arms laden with the cocktails, had gotten to the building and were kicking the door in. They flattened themselves against the building and started lighting and throwing the bottles inside.

Molotov cocktails were flying in like flaming birds. I don’t believe the Binqua realized what was happening at first but soon, smoke and flames were working their way up and smoke began issuing from the upstairs windows. Either the building didn’t have a sprinkler system or it wasn’t working.

In a few minutes, a bunch of Binqua exited the side door and started for cover in the nearby trees. Bullets hit a number but the ability to heal wounds kept some of them going. Our people were going to have to hit them a lot, preferably in vital areas – wherever those might be – to stop them.

Then, the Binqua came boiling from the living quarters at the far end, firing as they came.

By then, the fighters sent to go in through the vehicle entry had made it and they advanced and began firing back. A barrage of gunfire from the Binqua that came out the side door got my attention. They were firing at the fighters coming through the broken fence several yards to my right and down through the trees. I rolled over from my precarious and inadequate cover, scrambled to my feet, and keeping as low as I could, I made a dash for the parking lot and ran toward the other side of the building.

Duncan took off with me. Others followed us and we laid down fire as we ran. I didn’t have a rifle but I was firing with both my handguns. A line of Binqua ran to block our progress and two of the fighters with me fell. I fired until I ran out of bullets. I didn’t have time to reload but by then we’d reached the aliens. We crashed into them kicking and slashing. I saw somebody with a baseball bat whaling on one and a couple of them went down with arrows protruding from some part of their anatomy. The ladies with the bows had gotten them. Seemed they didn’t heal well with those sticking in them.

A Binqua threw something at me. I dropped down to avoid the object and he crashed into me and tried to pin me to the pavement. I fought to get from beneath him and felt my jacket rip but I got my arm free and slashed up with my knife, the blade cutting across his face. He shrieked and reared up and I slashed again. His shriek became a gurgle as he scrabbled at his throat and fell backward. I rolled away.

I was coming to my feet and saw the attached building had erupted into flames. I didn’t know if a Molotov cocktail got it or if it had caught from the main building but I was puzzled that it seemed to be on its way to burning completely – until I saw its outer surfacing was vinyl siding rather than the brick or cement material of the other buildings.