On the way home the near deafening sound of hundreds of car horns was interrupted by by a deep vibration that was felt as much as heard. It was that vibration in his gut that made the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand up and take notice.
"What's that?" Kris was looking up at the sky for whatever it was.
"Whatever it is, it can't be good," he said grimly.
A different thrumming sound added to the first as a score of Apache attack helicopters flew low overhead. They flew in a loose but precise formation wile the sensor domes on their noses swiveled back and forth searching for targets while the machinegun on it's belly followed suit.
"Whatever it is won't last long against those Apaches," he said confidently, smiling cruelly.
It was then that the first helicopter was hit by something unseen and exploded, it's smoking remains falling heavily to the ground. The explosion from the impact was spectacular, though terrifying. The building it hit shattered into a thousand flying pieces of wood and steel shrapnel. Most of the surrounding structures were shredded by the buckshot projectiles as much as from the shock wave. It was close enough that their truck skidded a few inches sideways, and the windows cracked.
"Holy shit!" he yelled, struggling to keep the car from skidding up onto the curb.
"Hold on," she said breathlessly, "here comes another one." The second impact was farther away, so it was heard but barely felt.
Then the hissing sound of a hundred rockets being fired was followed by the thunder of as many explosions. The thumping beat of 30mm guns followed with a staccato beat that further drowned out the car horns, which were increasing as their panic and terror increased.
"Go get 'em boys," he yelled rhetorically to the pilots.
"I don't think that's going to happen."
"What? Why not? Those guys are kick-ass."
"And they're falling out of the sky like flies."
"Then we're in serious trouble."
Alex took a few shortcuts on the way back to the house, leaving tire tracks through several lawns in the process. Skidding into the driveway, he left skid marks as he slammed on the brakes.
"Let's go," he said as he jumped out, grabbing his bag.
JJ was on the porch waiting for them, his scoped Remington hunting rifle in his hands. His eyes were scanning the sky, watching an expansive formation of dozens F-16 fighter jets scream overhead. Plumes of smoke erupted from their wings and hundreds of missiles streaked out towards a target that was out of their sight.
"Come on," he shouted, "get inside."
The sound of explosions chased them as they ran inside. The door closing behind them muted the sounds, but failed to cut them off completely. What followed was the familiar sound of aircraft crashing into the ground in a series of explosions that shook the very foundation of the house.
"What the hell's going on out there?" Tony demanded, flinching with every impact.
"The Air Force is engaging the enemy," Alex explained, "and losing badly by the sound of it."
"Engaging who?"
"I dunno," he sighed, "aliens?"
"You're kidding, right?" John said, "there's no such thing as aliens."
"Didn't you see the news?" Karen pointed at the TV, "either it's aliens, or the Chinese have seriously out-classed us in technology."
"Wouldn't be the first time," Tony said snidely.
"This is definitely a first," Alex countered, "and I seriously doubt that it's the Chinese or Russians."
"So what do we do now?" Shannon asked, near to panic.
"We wait."
Alex andJJ had taken up positions at the windows, watching to see what was happening outside. Each was carrying a rifle as well as a pistol on their belts. There was nothing but static on the TV, and the internet was inaccessible, so they were limited to what they could see with their own eyes.
The only sounds were those of jets roaring overhead and explosions in the varying distance. Karen had planted herself at her laptop, vainly trying to connect to the internet, while Kris set up a ritual circle in the middle of the living room to perform a protection spell. Shannon was more practical, gathering supplies from all over the house to put together a medical kit in case it was needed. Her backpack was bulging and overfilled.
Tony was gathering things for survival kits at Alex's insistence. Knives, food, blankets, sleeping bags, coats, and all manner of other things that would be useful for being on the run. The back of Alex's Explorer was packed to the ceiling within a couple of hours. John, meanwhile, was collecting tools for his toolkit. He was, after all, an engineer, and engineers needed tools.
The sounds of battle were continuous and unending, causing them to wonder what was going on. The tension in the house was palpable; between the former soldiers' hypersensitivity and the others' fear, the whole house was filled with the smell of sweat and nervous energy caused by the unknowable.
"We got movement," JJ called from the front window. He poked the barrel of his rifle through the slats of the aluminum shutters and waited.
"Where?" Alex was beside him in seconds.
"End of the block on the right."
"I see him."
A tall muscular black man was stumbling down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. His ripped jeans and tee shirt, and a black denim jacket that was tattered and torn. He was also carrying a pistol.
"Looter?" JJ said.
"I don't think so," Alex replied, "I think he's hurt. Look at the way he's limping." Turning to Tony he said, "you wanna check him out?"
"Sure."
Without fear he opened the front door and went out on the porch. "Hey," he shouted.
The black man stopped and whipped his pistol up towards him with eyes as big as saucers. He was obviously in shock, and terror was written on his face as plain as day.
"Come on," Tony called, "put that gun away and get in here."
Lowering the gun, the big man shambled across the street towards their house. His left arm was held close across his side and blood soaked his jeans. "Thanks," he breathed heartily, "I'm Marcus."
"I'm Tony," he said, holding out his hand with a strange smile on his face.
Without pause, Marcus reached back and tucked the gun into the back of his jeans before taking Tony's hand and pumping it. It was a very strong grip, yet not overpowering. Tony figured it was the adrenaline and fear that made him act so strangely, not to mention his wound.
