THEM (Book One)

Chapter Three

    Brock and the others worked hard in the compound. The workload was rough and there was little down time. However, after long weeks of hiding, scavenging and fighting for their lives, the group enjoyed being part of something and the relative safety it offered. The complex that was part of the base, was huge and soon many facilities were fully stocked. 

    The main airstrip area soon was only manned by Brock, his three friends, and Harris. Chris was the runner, going from area to area for whatever needed doing and the group here coordinated. They had gotten a message from the base to the north and were told to expect more contact but that soon had gone dark.

    The base proved to be  a suitable place to live. It used to be a military base but had since been converted to suit the needs of the survivors. Things had been pretty quiet as of late but as a huge storm began to roll in, it seemed things were about to get harrowing. Brock was called to the makeshift radar room as an automated call summoned him. He had not seen anything on  radar for weeks but sure enough, there was an incoming plane heading right for the outpost. 

    He admitted that he was getting pretty good at radar work for someone who had self trained in the alien apocalypse. As the cargo plane neared, the radar in the outpost turned on and let out a soft alarm. The radio transmission crackled as whoever was aboard was trying to communicate with the survivors' outpost. Inside the outpost, Brock leaned over the radio.

"Inbound airplane. This is the LA survivors outpost," Brock said clearly over the radio. "Do you copy?"

Brock checked the conditions and the runway, knowing that the landing strip was covered slick rain and fog. "You cannot land. We weren't expecting supplies, unless this is absolutely necessary you must turn back. Do you copy?"

There was a long pause and crackle then the plane turned to its side to circle into the clouds letting them know it was either going to land or deliver something.

"I suppose they must think it's more important than their safety!" Brock snapped.

    Brock and the others began to suit up for the weather. At the base of the south face stood an airlock door and the oppressive rain that covered it, just beyond and waiting to coat anything that came into it. The wind had the strength of a category 5 hurricane, delivering the rain at an almost horizontal level before shifting this way and that. The weather seemed to be getting worse and worse. These storms that were normally rare in Los Angeles now, were becoming more and more common.

    Brock, Shane and Zeke stepped outside. In the distance they saw the core of the storm approaching and like a small dot in the sky the huge cargo plane coming their way. The wind fueled turbulence brought the plane in the cloud cover they had been in for the last five hours. The wind blew water offer their goggles making it slightly more comfortable but not easy at all to see. 

    Shane and Zeke were tough and a bit more used to the weather but even they seemed set back by it. Brock cinched his jacket tight. The cold was almost like a slap to the face. Behind them, Harris wore a hood and goggles and stepped into breezeway. Below their feet the water pooled, threatening to make anything that tried to land, hydroplane out of control.

    The cargo engine roared over the sky. Its sound ripping through the low cloud cover. The gathered group took a roll of red flares and small radio beacons soldered onto spikes they drove into the ground.  They lit the flares and laid them alongside the beacons to create a line of sight for the pilot that had contacted them only minutes before. To the west, Brock headed in her own direction towards the hanger where they held the heavy machinery.

    The cargo plane sank its belly below the cloud cover exposing its faded gray color for seconds before disappearing into the heavens. The sight of it was surreal, almost mystical in how it cut through the clouds but never once revealing it wings circling away and making them wait for it to return. In the wait, Harris started up the heavy tread tractor, ready to deal with any cargo that was dropped. It was not unheard of for the clandestine way the plane was behaving. With the aliens only a few dozen miles off they did not want their movements to be too predictable. The aliens didn't much use their air vehicles, but they did not want to test that theory to see if they would make an exception.