X War: Infestation: X WAR, #3

By John Triptych

The endgame has begun. China has gone over to the alien menace, and humanity now stands on the precipice of ultimate defeat. All will be lost unless Task Force Zero somehow finds a way to reassert human control as the fate of the world hangs in the balance. The odds are very long, and the final outcome now hinges on a few key individuals and where they stand.

Piper is finally reunited with her long lost brother, but the boy displays frightening powers and has a vengeful mind of his own.

Thorne's ruse is discovered, and he is now being hunted by everyone. His knowledge of both sides is unparalleled, but can he strike the right bargain in order to stay alive?

Elsner finds some unexpected allies, but can he convince them that Earth's civilization is worth saving?

Don't miss the thrilling conclusion to this epic saga of alien invasion!

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Triptych
• Release date: Aug 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393487852

John Triptych

John has varied interests, and his love of everything is reflected in genre-busting novels ranging from real world thrillers all the way to mind blowing science fiction. A consummate researcher, he derives great pleasure and satisfaction when it comes to full spectrum world building and creating offbeat characters based on the real life people he meets in his travels. Website: https://ko-fi.com/johntriptych VIP mailing list: http://eepurl.com/bK-xGn

Book preview

1 Oregon

THIRTY KILOMETERS NORTHEAST of Prineville the paved roads ended, transforming into dirt trails that inclined upwards to the high desert region. Moderately spaced forests of pine grew over the rocky soil, while the less wooded patches of ground had occasional clumps of sagebrush nestled around tufts of hardy frontier grass.

Austin Bravy sat down with a tired sigh on the cleft of a black boulder, peering down at the valley floor below. He was glad to be back in his home state, but his grandmother's house in Portland was over a hundred and fifty kilometers away to the northwest of where he was staying at, and he wished he was closer.

The last few months were just crazy, the young boy thought. His daddy, whom he hadn't seen in person since he was a toddler, came back into his life and everything went topsy-turvy. Austin remembered the time they spent in Wyoming with a local militia, of being taught about guns and how the government was evil and corrupted by Jews and aliens.

Austin placed his hands into the side pockets of his windbreaker, trying to warm them up. Now we're here living with another prepper family, but at least they’re less preachy than the Denglers were.

Daddy came into the cabin one night and got them out of Wyoming. Austin was thrilled when his father told him and his mom that they would be headed back to Oregon, only to be disappointed again when they ended up here, out in the middle of nowhere.

His mom just sort of accepted being stuck in the frontier, because Austin believed she really loved his dad. Truth be told, the boy was happy that his family was back together, though a big part of him still missed his videogames and hanging around with his friends back in Portland.

The boy shrugged listlessly as he looked down at the large bits of black rock jutting out from the yellowish grass on the ground. He had heard the news about schools sitting half empty now, with parents being so fearful of another alien attack that they kept their children inside the house, all the while building fallout shelters in their backyards, if they had the space.

It's like I'm living another life now, he thought. The aliens had changed everything. At first the TV news and talk shows had speculated about peaceful contact, but when the attacks in California and Nevada happened, everybody started talking about the end of the world. Invasion from outer space was on everyone's lips these days.

Austin blew out a deep breath. Maybe Daddy is right. He said we’ll be safer up here. The aliens always attack the big cities, where most of the people are.

The boy's mind quickly shifted back into the here and now when he heard an adolescent male's holler echoing from afar. Hey Austin, where in the hell are you?

He stood up, and looked around. That would be Seth, the Brown family's oldest boy. Austin turned his head back and forth, until he finally spotted a lanky youth wearing an orange hunter vest and baseball cap waving at him nearly a hundred meters away from an adjacent hill. He quickly waved back.

Seth was a pale fifteen-year-old with dark curly hair, and he had an old Remington 870 pump shotgun loaded with birdshot slung over his shoulder. He pointed towards the crest of another hill to the north. I didn't find any more rabbits. It's getting late, so I'll meet you back at the fort.

Austin cupped his hands to amplify his reply. Okay, I'm on my way back.

Even though Seth had taken him along to hunt for cottontails, Austin had eventually gotten separated from him. He didn't have a gun, and the Browns continued to adhere to the local hunting laws, which meant that Austin wasn't allowed to shoot since he needed a certified adult mentor, and he didn't have a youth license either.

Instead of just following the older boy around, Austin decided to wander off, to be alone with his thoughts. He didn't want to be stuck at the compound all day because he hated having to do menial work like doing the dishes or chopping wood. We only get electricity when the generator runs a few hours each day, so I can't even use any of my gaming stuff.

Trudging along the side of the hill he began to pout. I'm bored. Bored, bored, bored. If the aliens are gonna attack again I wish they’d hurry up and do it already. At least there'll be some excitement.

The late afternoon sun had already dipped below the surrounding hills, and a blanket of rapidly cooling dusk had begun to cast long shadows over the terrain. Austin continued his slow pace since his legs were already tired from all the hiking he'd done earlier.

A low pitched moan quickly stopped him in his tracks. The boy looked around nervously, his right hand moving towards the hunting knife attached to his belt. What was that?

Austin's eyes began to dart around. It seemed there were shadows behind every pine tree. He wasn't sure where the sound had come from, but it seemed somewhat close by.

He tried to remember what Seth's father had told him about these woods. Deer, elk, coyotes, even the occasional cougar lived in these parts. Levi said that there are no bears here, but it sure sounded like one I think.

Anybody out here? Austin asked aloud. He had been taught to make himself known so as not to stumble into the paws of a surprised black bear if he encountered one. Quickly remembering what he had been given, he took out a small canister of pepper spray from his jeans pocket.

The boy nearly jumped as another moan was heard, a guttural squeal, like some sort of large animal in pain. As his mind tried to identify what kind of beast could make such a weird sound, he shifted his gaze over to what looked like a cluster of black rocks to his left and froze.

A shallow cavern. It was his first time spent on this side of the property, yet he was sure he had moved along this very same part of the hill before, but had never even spotted a cavern entrance—until now.

Austin carried a small penlight attached to his belt. Pulling it out, he activated a faint beam of illumination as he began to edge closer to the mouth of the cave. It didn't sound like a bear, he thought.

With a mix of curiosity and courage, the boy used his free hand to scramble up a bit, until he could get a clear view of what was inside. As he shone the penlight into the black depths of the hollow, Austin yelped out in fright. The beam's reflection shone over a pair of large reddish-brown eyes.

Even though the tall creature huddling inside the shallow cave had fur covering most of its body, its face was remarkably humanlike, with a saddened look as it gave out a slightly softer moan than before.

The being's whimpering cry kept Austin from running away. It seemed like a universal call for help as the apelike creature's hairy arms continued to clutch the sides of its wide torso, revealing thick black liquid oozing out slightly from an apparent wound on its right hip.

Austin blinked several times to make sure he wasn't dreaming. You're a Bigfoot, aren't you?

The creature continued to stare back at him, while exhaling a deep breath that smelled faintly of rotten pine.

Austin leaned in closer, pulled out a strip of venison jerky from the inside of his windbreaker and offered it to the apelike creature. You're hurt. Do you want some food?

The brown furred Sasquatch seemed to nod as it slowly reached out and accepted the piece of dried meat from the boy's hands.

I'm sorry I don't have any more, Austin said regretfully. I-I can try to get help, do you want me to do that for you?

The creature made an inhaling noise before wagging a finger at the boy.

Austin could hardly believe it. Apparently the Bigfoot could understand him. So you don't want my family to help?

The creature locked eyes with him once more. This time Austin's mind was filled with a jumble of mental images, sounds, and sensations. The cascade of thoughts was too much, and the boy suddenly fell backwards, his buttocks landing on a flattened boulder behind him.

Ooww, Austin said as he rubbed his throbbing temples. It felt like the creature had somehow communicated by mental thoughts alone, and he had somewhat understood. The information overload was a bit too much for him to handle though.

The Sasquatch leaned back, trying its best not to strain its injured body.

Getting back on his knees, Austin tried to remember what the creature had just told him by telepathy. So you could use my help, but you don't want the others in my group to know. Right?

The creature nodded.

Okay, Austin said. You'll be my super secret. I'll come back tomorrow and get you some more food, and maybe something to stitch your wound, okay?

2 London

DELICATELY WEAVING his way behind a group of camera operators filming the early evening demonstration at the other end of the street, Alasdair Thorne continued on until he made it into a throng of onlookers who were standing around to watch the spectacle unfold.

The peace demonstrators were a diverse lot of young and old, gluing themselves onto the side of busses and lampposts, or just sitting down in the middle of the street, silently waving signs titled MAKE PEACE WITH THE ALIENS and STOP FIGHTING OUR BETTERS. A few even had signs signaling surrender, while counter-protestors held up placards like APPEASEMENT NEVER WORKS and WE SHALL FIGHT THEM IN OUR LIVING ROOMS—WE SHALL NEVER SURRENDER, all the while goading the other side for a physical confrontation. 

If only all these fools knew what was truly coming, Thorne thought as he increased his pace, now that he had gotten clear of most of the crowd.

World euphoria over Task Force Zero's victory in Africa had been quickly tempered when a huge UFO suddenly appeared over the skies of Antwerp a few weeks later, and bombarded the Belgian city with blasts of blue lightning, completely obliterating large areas of it. Casualties were in the hundreds of thousands, and the attack threw global society into turmoil.

For the past few months Thorne had been crisscrossing the Atlantic, attending meetings in Downing Street, the White House, and at the UN headquarters in New York City. Every politician he knew felt powerless, and a growing movement of submission to the aliens had steadily gained in strength as the months passed, despite their leaders' pleas for patience and solidarity. Humanity was now beginning to come apart at the seams.

One step closer, Thorne thought as he rounded a curve on the street and proceeded to walk towards his home. Ascension is just about to be upon us all.

The memories of his wife came over him as he got closer to his abode. He had planned to tell Grace everything eventually, and wondered how she would take it all, but in the end his contingencies became moot when the Cabal had her murdered, as a consequence of his killing of Gleb Denikin, the Russian FSB director. Ah well, perhaps it is better this way. You may not have wholly accepted our fate, my dear, dear Grace. At least you are at peace now.

Just as he got to the front steps of his terraced house, Thorne pivoted sideways as someone caught his eye. A young, well-built black man stood by the side of the street a dozen meters away.

Thorne instantly recognized him: Nigel, one of MI5's watchers. Trained in surveillance and other clandestine activities of the profession, Thorne had used him for a number of jobs, and Nigel's presence so near his house couldn't be attributed to mere coincidence.

MI5's deputy director quickly stiffened as his demeanor became guarded. Something is happening, but what?

Nigel began to walk closer. Thorne could see that the other man's empty hands were out in the open, but he knew that there might well be others in the area who would be wielding weapons to take him out. He works for the Cabal, Thorne thought. Are they here to bring me in for a meeting, or to kill me?

The younger man stopped, just over a meter away from where Thorne was standing. I need you to come with me, sir.

What for?

The chief wants to have a word, sir.

By chief he means Sir Colin Tillinghast, the head of MI6, Thorne thought. Why would he send you? The Secret Service has their own lads to do their work for them.

I don't know, sir. Perhaps his own people are busy, or maybe he doesn't trust them.

He decided to play along for now. If I refuse, they might shoot me in the middle of the street and chalk it up to the chaos caused by those nearby protestors. Where are we going?

Nigel pointed towards a BMW sedan parked by the lane. I'm to take you to a safehouse, sir.

A safehouse? For my protection?

Yes, sir.

Alright.

Thorne followed the other man towards the rear doors of the vehicle. The BMW already had a driver, another man whom he didn't recognize. Thorne quickly got into the backseat, right behind the driver, and the car sped off after Nigel climbed in and closed the door.

The traffic around Belgravia had gotten thick because of the protests, and the BMW's driver had to weave in and out of wrong way lanes, ignoring the accusing car horns from other frustrated motorists.

Thorne pretended to look out the window, even though he was carefully scanning the vehicle's interior. Where's the safehouse at?

Kensal Green, sir, Nigel said. It isn't far.

The BMW's driver angrily honked the car horn at another vehicle trying to swerve in front of it. Bloody protests, they're jamming the motorway up ahead.

Nigel leaned back, looking bored. Take your time. We're not in a hurry.

Thorne tried to appear relaxed, using subtle yoga breathing techniques to keep his anxiety level at a reasonably controlled state. Did Tillinghast mention what kind of threat it was?

I believe it had something to do with a number of Chinese assets who've arrived in the country, sir.

The Dowager, he thought, referring to his Chinese counterpart in the Cabal. She probably found out that I was the one who tipped off Task Force Zero with regards to the outpost she was building in the Sudan. Now she wants revenge. And Tillinghast is positive that I am the target?

That's what I was told, sir.

It's good of Colin to still be looking out for me. Did he say how long I'll be in the safehouse?

He didn't say, sir.

The walkie-talkie that was attached to the driver's belt began to squawk. A second man's voice came over the channel. Car One, what's your ETA, over?

Pulling out the communications device from his waistband, the driver used his left hand to answer. Traffic's a mess. Give us another ten minutes, over.

Affirmative, out.

That voice on the other end sounded familiar, Thorne thought, pulling out a smartphone from underneath his coat pocket. Excuse me, I have to make a call.

Nigel reacted by leaning closer and placing his hand on top of Thorne's phone. You don't want to do that, sir.

And why not?

The Chinese have your number, sir, and not only can they triangulate its position, they'll also be listening in. In fact you'll need to hand it over to me, Nigel said, holding his hand out to receive it.

Thorne realized what he had to do. Very well.

Instead of handing the device to him, Throne forcefully thrust the top edge of his phone right at the bridge of Nigel's nose. The smartphone's casing instantly broke, but it had shattered the upper cartilage just below the nasal bone, momentarily stunning the younger man.

The driver of the BMW tried to stop the vehicle, only for Thorne to reach over and wrap the upper strap of the seatbelt he wore around his neck. Thorne used both feet to brace himself against the back of the driver's seat as he continued to apply pressure, hoping to strangle the man behind the wheel as quickly as possible.

Nigel tried to shake off the effects of his broken nose but his eyes continued to see nothing but bright flashes ahead of him. He could feel the vehicle pick up speed as the corners of his eyesight began to clear. When he saw that the BMW driver was struggling against the pressure on his throat and swerving the vehicle in a panicked attempt to get Thorne off of him, Nigel instinctively began to pull out the Glock pistol from the shoulder holster beneath his jacket.

Thorne quickly sensed the incoming danger to his left side and thrust out with his leg, the sole of his wingtips connecting with the top of Nigel's head. The MI5 watcher was momentarily stunned again as Thorne brought his left leg back and continued to pull at the driver's upper seatbelt strap with all of his might.

The choking off of his windpipe had finally induced panic in the driver. He tried to lean back to give his throat some slack, but inadvertently pressed his foot down on the car's accelerator and lost control of the steering wheel when he finally used both his hands to try and pull the straps around his neck loose. The BMW fishtailed over a divider, caught the side of a freestanding traffic light before careening past the nearby intersection and colliding with a low concrete wall.

When Thorne opened his eyes he was still stuck inside the backseat of the wrecked BMW. Bit of glass were all over him, and he could see the front airbags had engaged, obscuring the unmoving driver from view. His left arm felt painful and he figured it was broken. Nigel lay on the floor with his eyes closed, the right side of his face bruised and bloodied.

Hearing anguished cries coming from the outside, Thorne used his right hand to open the door before slipping out onto the sidewalk. He could feel other people's helping hands on his body as he got up on his still wobbly knees.

A man close to his age wearing a beige jacket and a tweed cap helped to prop him up to a fully upright position. That was one heck of a nasty crash. Are you alright?

Thorne ran his hand along the side of his face and realized he had sustained a nasty cut on his forehead when he saw blood on his palm. I'm fine, thank you.

Your companions, I think they're both hurt badly.

I don't know them, Thorne said as he abruptly turned around and began to limp away, ignoring any additional queries while picking up his pace. Spotting a flight of stairs leading into the Warwick Station entrance of the London Underground transit system near the end of the street, he quickly made his way down the steps and out of sight, just as the coming sirens were heard in the distance.

3 Simi Valley

EMMA JANDA SMILED AT her mother as they both put away the now dry dishes in the cupboard. Why don't you let me finish up here?

Okay, dear, her mother said. I'll see what's going on with your father. It seems Bill just fell asleep right after we finished dinner.

Emma giggled as she took out the drinking glasses from the dishwasher and placed them on a serving tray by the kitchen counter. At least he's finally getting some rest. He's been out with his buddies all day—I heard they did some sort of lifting and construction work.

The portly, sixty-something woman sighed while adjusting her thick eyeglasses. I told him he would strain his back if he kept at it, but we needed the money.

Emma gave her a surprised look. What? I still have some money left over in my savings account. I'll head up to the bank first thing in the morning and withdraw it.

It's alright, dear. Keep your savings. We're doing okay, it was just a little short this month since your dad got laid off.

He's still collecting unemployment, right?

Not anymore.

Huh?

The benefits ran out last month, but don't worry. He's doing some odd jobs with his friends, and with my job at the clothing store we'll be fine.

Oh God, I'm so sorry I didn't know. I'll ask around again to see if there's any openings at the mall.

It's okay, I know you still have some classes to take before you get that degree, so don't worry, we got this.

The guilt at not being able to help her parents was eating Emma up inside. Are you sure?

Her mother gave her a reassuring pat on the cheek before turning around and padding back out towards the living room of their three-bedroom bungalow. Yes, now you have a good night.

I love you, Mom, Emma called out as her mother disappeared behind the partly open divider leading out into the living room.

While placing the utensils into the one of the drawers, she heard a soft thud from the other side of the house. Emma quickly looked up in alarm. Mom? You okay?

The lack of response made her nervous as she quickly made her way into the living room. When Emma saw that her mother was lying on the carpeted floor in front of the TV set she gave a shrill scream and ran over to where she had fallen, going down to one knee as she hurriedly began to examine her mother for any signs of life.

Once Emma had turned her over, she could tell that her mother was still breathing though her eyes were shut. It looked like the older woman had just fainted. Mom, speak to me!

Another voice, belonging to a man she once knew intimately, spoke from the alcove by the front door. It's okay, she's just asleep.

Emma held her mother's head in her arms while staring in wild eyed shock at the tall, thin man with the thick brown beard standing over her. Mike?

Michael Ripley smiled as he helped carry Emma's mother onto the sofa, laying the sleeping old woman gently on the cushions. How are you, Em?

Emma fought back tears as she wrapped her arms around him and they kissed. Oh my god, Mike! What's happened to you?

He sat down with her on the opposite couch while keeping their hands clasped together. I... had to go away. I'm sorry about that.

What did you do to my mom?

It wasn't me, but the ones who are with me sort of... put her to sleep. Don't worry, when I'm gone she'll wake up again as if nothing happened.

She looked up at the ceiling. Did you do the same thing to my daddy?

Yes. And the two FBI agents sitting in their car across the street. They're both out like a light too.

Emma looked down at the floor, her temporary euphoria now replaced by concern. All I got was a text message from you, like, last year, telling me not to believe what they would say about you.

Ripley nodded. Yeah, I'm so sorry I had to stay away for awhile.

They said you killed your partner and shot your FBI supervisor too. I-I just couldn't believe it. Those damned reporters even wanted to interview me but I told them to go to hell.

Emma, I swear to you that I didn't kill them.

She placed her right index finger on his lower lip and smiled. I believe you. I always have.

He turned away in shame. I-I couldn't see you. I knew they would arrest me if I tried, so I had to stay away... until I figured out what was really going on.

What is going on, Mike? All I know is there's aliens from outer space that are out to kill us. I lost my job, so did my dad when the economy tanked, and I ended up moving back here—to my folks' place. Everybody I know is scared.

Yeah, it's happening. The aliens are real, but if I give you specifics they'll probably come after you in order to get to me.

We were supposed to get married, Mike. What are we going to do now?

All I can tell you is that the Ether Society is behind all this.

The religious organization that worships aliens?

Ripley nodded. I know it sounds crazy, but their agents infiltrated the FBI and framed me for the murders of my partner and the senior special agent in charge.

What are you going to do?

Find a way to get the truth out, Ripley said softly. The good news is that I now have some help.

Emma looked down at the floor. I'm glad you're still alive and free. Will we ever get back together again?

He held on to her hands. Once this is over, I'll definitely come back for you. It's just that... it's been so long and for a time I thought you went out and started seeing other guys.

Emma hissed. Oh, please! You're the only one for me.

I'm so glad to hear it. Em, what I'm doing is dangerous, so what I'm saying is... I might not come back alive.

She looked straight into his eyes. For a short while she said nothing, then the words suddenly came out. Let's do this together. We're not married yet, but I want to be with you, always and forever.

Ripley was somewhat surprised to hear her words. But I'm a fugitive, Em. You wouldn't want to go around the country with me, not until I've cleared my name first.

Look at my situation, Mike. I don't want to be a burden to my parents. They're struggling, just like everybody else who isn't insanely rich right now. If we're going to be together, then I'd rather go with you.

But... it's dangerous.

You did say that they would come after me to get to you, right? Well, they won't be able to do that if I'm by your side now, will they? And you told me you have some help too.

Yeah, but I'm still not sure just how powerful they are.

Emma glanced towards her sleeping mother. If they can knock out my mom just like that then they must be. Who are they?

Two very special kids.

Are they disabled?

No! They have some sort of powers that they use. Something to do with their minds. The Etherians were experimenting with them since they were conceived. I think these cultists were planning to use these children as weapons or something.

Wow, just like the shows on TV we used to watch together?

Like you wouldn't believe, Ripley said, pointing to the coffee table in the middle of the room. Take a look at this.

The stack of magazines lying on the table suddenly began to float in the air, as if gravity around them had suddenly turned off.

Emma's eyes widened as she threw her hands over her mouth. Oh my god!

Ripley nodded, and the magazines fell back onto the tabletop with a loud slapping noise.

Emma stared into his eyes again. That... was amazing.

I didn't think you'd believe me, so I had them do a demonstration for you. I think that if I could get them to the good guys, then our country has a chance.

You'll definitely need my help. Give me a few minutes to pack my clothes, and I'll join you.

Are you sure about this, Em?

Since the day you asked me to marry you, she said. Then she kissed him gently on his lips.

4 Tianjin

THOMAS PERRY GENTLY rubbed the back of his tired neck while sitting in the rear seat of the limousine. The delay with China having to sign the Task Force Zero protocols was taking a toll on his physical body, and he was somewhat thankful that President Jian Qiao had finally agreed to meet with them to discuss the final arrangements.

Sitting beside him was Reese Fulton, the president's national security advisor and close friend who had gotten Perry out of retirement. Nice of our president to lend us the Beast, yeah?

Despite his fatigue, Perry smiled. The Beast was the nickname of the president's state car, a heavily armored Cadillac, and they both happened to be riding in it. Doesn't he have like, a half dozen copies of this thing or something?

More like a full dozen.

Seems awfully generous of him to allow us to use even just one, Perry said as he glanced out of the tinted windows. They had just arrived from the airport less than an hour ago, and now the motorcade was being driven along the highway to meet the Chinese president. And the detachment of Secret Service agents guarding us is a nice surprise too.

The president considers you as part of his essential inner cabinet now, Tom. As deputy secretary of defense and the director of TFZ, the country—heck, the entire world—can't afford to lose you.

Perry gave a thin smile. I appreciate it. If only I had some time off to spend with my wife, this would be an ideal life right now.

How is Abby?

She's back on meds, which means she's asleep most of the time nowadays.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Ah, it's alright, Perry said wistfully. Maybe sleeping for most of the day is better for her. With all these alien attacks happening, the anxiety would be too much for her to cope with if she got off the medication.

I understand.

Perry decided to change the subject. How's the president doing?

Worried, just like everybody else. The Europeans are totally divided now, and our old allies the British are barely hanging on with regards to their government policies.

Perry let out a deep breath. A huge surge of advocates who demanded that the EU make peace with the aliens was steadily growing in momentum. The destruction of Antwerp threw the entire political landscape into chaos, even though there were no official contacts with the enemy. Multiple conspiracy theories had grown, with an increasing number of people all over the world believing that their respective governments were in private talks with the aliens, but refusing to