Chapter 9: Infestation

When the aliens were done eating and the pork was all but gone, the Mutons retreated into the shelter of the barn, and once they were out of view Vi slinked down from her perch and accompanied me back to the house. I didn’t press her on the issue of the Mutons, she would have to get over her prejudices on her own, it didn’t seem that she could be convinced of their benign intentions.

We got into bed, Vi throwing the sheets over us and trying to coil as much of her body beneath them as she could manage, huddling up to me for warmth. It would be spring in a few weeks, it still surprised me that wheat was planted in the winter. In a few months time the fields would no longer be barren plots of land, instead full of golden corn. I hadn’t seen them that way since my childhood, and I had to admit that seeing it again would fill me with nostalgia.

As I began to close my eyes, Vi’s breathing becoming deep and regular as she lay beside me, a sound started me awake. Vi heard it too, flaring her hood, her eyes glinting in the darkness. She shot out of bed, shouldering the plasma rifle she now kept beside the window, and flung the shutters open. I rose groggily, it sounded like something was happening in the barn. It had to be the Mutons, but what were they doing?

Vi was spitting fury, hissing and waving her long body back and forth like a cobra preparing to strike as she aimed her weapon.

“Hang on, don’t shoot the bloody Mutons, what the hell is going on out there?”

I knew what she was thinking, her fears had been confirmed and the Mutons were attacking us, but I had more faith in them than that. They had no reason to attack us, so what were they doing?

“I’m going down, cover me.”

She turned and glared at me, her eyes fierce, and hissed her disapproval.

“If you like it or not I’m going down to the barn to see what’s happening, you can come with me or you can stay here.”

I headed downstairs to retrieve my assault rifle from the cupboard, and Vi followed after me, knowing that her complaints would fall on deaf ears and that we were better off together. She flopped down the stairs behind me, her fat tail making the old wooden steps creak, and she readied herself at the back door as she looked tentatively through the window. I stacked up behind her, checking the magazine in my rifle and chambering the first round. I flicked the outdoor lights on then tapped her on the back, and we burst through into the courtyard, weapons shouldered as we scanned the gloom for movement.

The noise was coming from the barn all right, it sounded like a goddamned war was going on. Mutons were grunting and calling to eachother, there was the sound of splintering wood and an odd screeching cry that made my blood run cold for some reason. Where had I heard that sound before?

We moved forward, quick but cautious, until we reached the closed doors of the barn and prepared to breach them. I kicked one of the doors ajar and we stormed inside, our weapons raised as we scanned the interior. I had to hop backwards to avoid a rolling Muton, grappling with something on the ground, roaring in anger and pain. I couldn’t see properly, the only light was spilling through the door, inside the barn was gloomy and full of deep shadows.

“Roomba! What’s going on?”

I heard Vi hiss, and there was a flare of green from her plasma rifle that lit up the space like the flash of a camera, the scene illuminated for a fleeting moment like some nightmare polaroid. I remembered where I had heard that screeching sound, and why it made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

Chryssalids.

One had fallen where Vi had gunned it down, its insectoid carapace melting inward like slagged metal where the bolt of super-heated gas had hit it, its body covered in wicked spines and sharp blades, its limbs like serrated knives. One of the Mutons was wrestling another on the floor of the barn, pitting his monstrous strength against the writhing insect, its six limbs a flurry of stabbing daggers. He was covered in orange blood from abrasions, but he wasn’t down, and as I watched he tore one of the long legs from the alien with a guttural grunt. The flailing alien screeched as its syrupy ichor leaked from the stump, and it scrabbled with its forelimbs, trying to get at the Muton’s eyes.

The rest of the pack were scattered about the barn, battling with the creatures in the darkness, unarmed and fighting only with their fists. There was a hole in the middle of the floor, the damned things had burrowed up from under the ground, it was a goddamned infestation.

I aimed my weapon and began to fire, Vi following suit as the Mutons realized that the cavalry had arrived, trying to get some distance from the monsters that were attacking them to clear our line of sight. The Chryssalids had been difficult to control at the best of times, mostly deployed as indiscriminate killing machines when ADVENT sought to take out a particularly well entrenched resistance settlement, but now they were completely feral and running on animal instinct.

The chatter of gunfire was deafening in the enclosed space, the green and yellow light from our respective muzzle flashes painting dark shadows that concealed as much as their light revealed. One of the aliens charged at me, screeching and shaking its sharp spines like the rattle of a copperhead. Vi reacted faster than I could turn my weapon on it, whipping her powerful tail like a flail and throwing the creature away from me to slam against the far wall of the barn, the wooden slats cracking under the impact. We had to take this fight outside, they would overwhelm us in such close quarters.

“Pull back! Vi, tell them to fall back!”

She barked an order at them, would they understand her, were there some common commands their languages shared? Whatever she had said, they seemed to understand our intent, and Roomba rallied them as they scurried towards the exit.

We pushed our way back out into the courtyard, trying to get some distance from the barn as the Mutons ran for cover. They seemed ok, they were all here, though one of them was limping and seemed to be nursing a deeper wound on his arm. Roomba stopped at the exit, pounding his chest and roaring, then threw his considerable weight against the doors to slam them shut. Insectoid limbs pushed through the opening, slicing at him like chitinous swords, but he weathered the blows as he struggled to keep the two wooden doors closed. He glanced back at us, and loosed a rumbling call, I didn’t understand what he had said but his intent was clear.

“Firing line!”

I knelt and aimed my weapon at the door, Vi steadying herself, perched on her tail as she shouldered her smoking plasma rifle. Roomba held on for a few more second, his sausage-like fingers digging into the soft wood, splintering it as he struggled to keep the aliens contained. Their claws and sharp legs pierced the doors, stabbing at him and narrowly missing his head, and he finally threw himself aside. The doors were flung open and the Chryssalids inside spilled forth like a tide, their limbs flailing as they powered towards us, a dozen of them now illuminated by the lights from the farmhouse. We opened up, loosing a hail of glowing plasma and hot lead, cutting down those at the head of the pack. They lay limp where they fell, but those behind scrambled over the bodies of their comrades, red eyes glowing and sharp mandibles snapping in anticipation of sinking them into our flesh.

We loosed another volley, more of them falling to our gunfire, yet still they came. More were emerging from the barn behind them, were they coming from the hole? We couldn’t weather this kind of assault, there could be a whole hive of the damned things.

“Back to the house! Fall back!”

I started to walk backwards as I lay down suppressing fire, but these were not sentient creatures with a sense of self-preservation, they were driven by raw instinct and could not be so easily discouraged. Vi did not seem to be able to slither backwards, and so she paused every so often to fire her weapon as she pulled back. The Mutons realized where we were going and made their way to the back door of the property, Roomba helping the injured member of his pack along.

They reached the door before we did and struggled through the human-sized opening one by one, causing a holdup as me and Vi tried to cover them. The Chryssalids were closing in, a dozen bodies now lay between the barn and the house, but they flowed over them like water as they came at us. They were relentless, savage, but they were predictable as they made a beeline for us.

Vi ducked under the doorframe, then I felt her long tail wrap around my waist and pluck me off the ground, snapping me inside the house as Roomba slammed the door behind me. He heaved a nearby cupboard in front of it, scraping it across the hardwood floor and leaning it against the door. Not a moment later a forest of knife-like legs broke through the wood, scrabbling furiously as the aliens tried to gain entry. They threw themselves against the door but it wouldn’t budge, and Roomba began to stack more pieces of furniture to reinforce the makeshift barricade. Damn it, the other doors, the windows, we had to block all of them or we would be overrun in the cramped interior of the house.

“Vi! The other doors, the windows!”

She spun around, her eyes wide and her hood flared, and nodded. She called to the Mutons, pointing and gesturing, commanding them as I had seen ADVENT Vipers do on the battlefield. They obeyed, lumbering off into the house to complete their tasks. Could she speak their language after all? No, these must be common ADVENT commands, had to be. In a moment we had all regressed, the combat situation forcing us into our old roles.

I returned to the cupboard, rummaging through my old XCOM rucksack for more magazines and reloaded my rifle, stuffing spares into my pockets. If only the Mutons were armed, these Chryssalids would have a much harder time. Wait, there was at least one other gun, did the old shotgun my father used to keep over the mantle still work? Did we have shells for it?

I rushed into the living room, darting past one of the Mutons who was upending our couch and leaning it against a window. I pulled the shotgun down from where it was hooked above the fireplace, and checked that the barrels were clear. Good, it looked like it would probably fire if I could find some damned shells for it. I heard a smashing of glass and turned around to see the Muton struggling against the window, sharp claws piercing the couch an inch from his face. I slung the shotgun over my back and ran to his side, pushing the barrel of my rifle between the couch and the window, firing on full auto into the aliens who were trying to force their way in through the opening. There was a blood-chilling screech, then the claws that were embedded in the fabric of the couch withdrew, the Chryssalids outside scurrying around the side of the house to find another entry point.

I left the Muton to his task and ran deeper into the house, wracking my brain, trying to think of where my grandfather might have kept shotgun shells during his time here. The kitchen drawers? No. The pantry? Maybe. I was startled by the sound of gunfire coming from the other side of the house, Vi must have caught them trying to breach, she could handle it.

I burst into the pantry, knocking over cans of food as I searched for a box of shells. I cleaned the shelves, there was nothing but tins of beans and spam, fuck. Where else might they be? The attic? The garage? Double fuck, was the garage door closed? Probably not. Adrenaline coursing through my veins as I made my way to the garage at a sprint, accessible via a door to the farmhouse, or from outside. I flung the door open, seeing the truck parked inside, and the garage door raised. As if on cue two Chryssalids rounded the corner of the house and saw the opening, chirping and beginning to scurry towards me. I steeled myself and banished the urge to retreat back into the house, charging forward and slamming my fist down on the door control. There was a mechanical creaking as the automatic door began to lower, but the aliens were too close, they would enter before it closed. Cursing, I kneeled and fired off a burst, cutting the legs out from under one of the aliens. It fell on its face and lay motionless, but the second continued forward.

Too late I realized I had emptied my mag, and as I fumbled in the pocket of my jacket for a fresh one, the second Chryssalid slid under the garage door as it sealed behind the alien. It barreled across the room and slammed into the back of the truck, setting off the theft alarm, the truck’s lights flashing and the siren filling my ears as the alien rose and steadied itself.

My hands were shaking, I released the catch on the empty magazine and it clattered to the floor, but I couldn’t get the fresh one into the receiver. The Chryssalid flared its orange spines and came for me, my blood freezing as it extended its arms, reaching for me with its razor-sharp claws.

It was knocked clear off its feet, thrown against the far wall by a fist the size of my head. Roomba lumbered forward to stand between me and the alien as it struggled to its feet, his bleeding knuckles white. He raised his fists, taking a defensive stance as the Chryssalid spat and chirped at him, beginning to circle on its pointed legs. I jammed the magazine into my gun and chambered a round, raising it, but Roomba was in my line of fire. Before I could shout for him to move out of the way, the Chryssalid lunged at him with its talons, cutting a deep welt into his tattooed forearm. He weathered the blow, responding with a crippling punch to the creature’s head that sent it crumpling to the floor. He waved his hand, trying to dispel the pain as orange blood dripped from the abrasions in his skin, the alien’s chitinous armor having cut his fingers.

I stepped around him and put a couple of shots into its brain to be sure, and turned to give him a thumbs up. He didn’t understand the gesture, but he thumped his chest with his good hand, grunting his triumph.

I checked that the door was sealed, it looked solid, they wouldn’t be able to get through here. I remembered why I had come, and ran over to the shelves at the back of the garage, trying to ignore the irritating noise of the truck’s alarm. I scoured the shelves, tool boxes, motor oil, rags, miscellaneous car parts, come on it had to be here. Yes! There, three boxes of shotgun shells. I snatched them up in my hands, pulling the shotgun from my back loading both barrels.

I called Roomba over and thrust the weapon into his massive hands, showing him where the triggers were. He nodded his understanding, and I handed a box of shells to him, shoving the rest into my pockets. He would figure it out, he was a soldier after all.