Aliens 2035

Chapter 1

1

Hiawatha National Forest

Upper Peninsula, Michigan

October 22nd 2032

The Bigfoot stopped and listened. The forests of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan were different, older. More pines, trees of different sizes compared to the foothills of the Appalachians and southern Ohio where the trees were largely deciduous and of the same age. The ground was rockier, too. She had been traveling for nearly a month, working her way along the edge of the Great Lakes, mostly traveling at night, using her natural ability to cloak protecting her from predators and humans. It was one of the few interdimensional powers that remained as she had entered the vulnerable phase that came along with reproduction. She knew that she could even die, although death itself was no concern.

A day behind her was another from her clan. They traveled separately increasing the chances one of them would make it to the rendezvous. Her clan had the most humanlike faces of all the Bigfoot subspecies. After so many millennia, finally the gathering had been called. The excitement of meeting others of her kind from different clans had hastened her movements and in her anticipation she had let down her guard. Now something didn’t feel right. The composition of granite and ancient shales below the soft vegetated mat of the forest floor interfered with her sensors, so she swiveled her head from side to side and peered past the nearest trees deep into the woods, her bio-sensors automatically collecting data from the odors, sights and sounds, in addition to a wide range of electromagnetic radiation and magnetic fields not available to humans. The late afternoon sun hid much among the lengthening shadows. She squinted and held rock still.

There! To her left and right and in front of her. A familiar smell. Humans! She craned her neck and could make out the breathing of a fourth human waiting on a small ridge several hundred yards away. The humans closest to her converged on her as if they knew she was there.

The Bigfoot knew she was being hunted. She started to run, picking the easiest route through the dense scrub trees of the forest. She could feel the chameleon pigmentation of her skin blending with the forest browns and greens, hiding her from the primitive eyes of the hunters. Still, they followed as if they knew where she was. It was impossible but somehow it was happening. She headed toward a creek when something slammed into her chest, spinning her around to the ground.

The three hunters trotted easily through the dense forest of spruce, maple and oak, skirting brambles of blackberry and wild shrub roses, and vaulting over felled trees without making any noise. Their US Military Camo Anorak Jackets blended with the trees and they moved like ghosts through the wilderness. The afternoon sun was lowering in the west, hidden mostly by the multi-colored fall canopy. The air was crisp and their breaths wreathed their faces momentarily, trailing to wisps behind them. At a prearranged spot, they spread out in a V– formation, with the third man at the bottom of the letter, where game could be flushed toward him into the killing zone. They ran silently no unnecessary communications, each man intent on his mission. Each carried a gas operated, US Navy Mk-12 5.56 semi-auto sniper rifle. Its effective range was 550 meters but range in these woods didn’t matter. What the men wanted it for was the stopping power of the NATO 5.56x.45 ammo.

At another prearranged signal, the last man stopped and took up a position behind a fallen white pine. The two flankers continued deeper into the trees. Within seconds they were no longer visible. Clearing a spot on top, he braced the sniper rifle on the rough bark. Everything was going exactly as the leader who had trained them predicted and he waited, keeping his nervousness under control with deep slow breaths.

A man dressed similarly as the others but armed only with a Walther PK 380 side arm topped a ridge a hundred yards behind the team. He held a razor thin Light Tablet in his left hand. The newcomer’s pale-blue eyes scanned the woods before shifting to the device’s screen. It displayed a military grade grid map of the Hiawatha National Forest. Tiny dots of blue light showed the three hunters’ positions as well as a larger green light moving rapidly. Underneath each one were GPS coordinates and a hash tag with the man’s name. A fourth larger dot of green light bearing no name was moving on a straight line toward the center of the vee. Suddenly, the green light disappeared. The leader grimaced. Everybody froze and waited. And just as suddenly the light reappeared and moved again. The leader c****d his head and concentrated but could hear no sounds of the large animal thrashing its way through the dense forest and underbrush like a scared deer or moose. The upright figure moved silently and much faster than any man could. The team leader depressed a tab on the screen and spoke into his throat mic to the team. “The new satellite feed shows the bogie’s running toward you. Flankers keep it in the pipe.”

The men did not answer but maintained radio silence. The team leader watched their progress. The men acted in concert just as he had trained them. The two flankers waited for the creature to pass, then paced the quarry on either side, running at angles to cut off its flight deeper into the woods. The shooter at the bottom of the vee stayed put, completing the perfect pocket for the beast to run into. A rare smile came to the leader’s lips. This was the best team he’d ever seen.

He saw the beast’s green dot stop, then retreat backwards just like the others they’d hunted. It stopped again and pivoted, obviously aware of the men following it. The animal’s bright dot lurched sideways. It was running at right angles to the vee. At the same time the right flanker’s voice hissed in his receiver. “To je nalevo.”

The team leader stabbed the mic icon. “English at all times!” he hissed.

The man repeated his warning in English, his Croatian accent heavy, though understandable. “It’s turning left!”

The hunter at the bottom of the vee came on, his voice smooth and calm, his English less accented. “I have him in my scope. Nicktos. Its face is almost human.”

“Bravo One, you are cleared to shoot, Repeat. Pull the trigger.”

The soft phht sound of a suppressor round echoed through the team leader’s receiver. “The creature is hit but is not down. Repeat, the creature’s hit but is still running. We’ve lost it.”

“Roger that.” The team leader answered. He swore under his breath. In the twenty-two ops they’d run up to now, not one of the creatures had ever deviated its line of escape. They always ran directly into the vee, making an easy kill for the shooter. But this one had changed as if it had somehow learned their tactics. They’re adapting and we’ll have to adapt, too.

How many of the creatures were in the Peninsula was anyone’s guess, and more were arriving every day. All the team leader knew was that the client wanted every one of them killed and incinerated. It was a gruesome mission but he fully embraced the goal of his employer. It was necessary to save the human race.

The Bigfoot struggled back on her feet. A quick scan of her body showed the wound had severed important connective tissue. The damage was fatal without her normal regenerative capabilities. She let out a warning scream that echoed through the woods to others of her kind. Then she ran all out, no longer worrying about silence. She had to get away, find a place to die away from the eyes of the humans.

The Light Screen beeped. The creature’s green light had crossed a stream and was moving more slowly now. The leader keyed his mic. “Bravo team, the creature is moving north northwest perpendicular to your position. It has crossed Owl Creek.”

The man scanned the sky. The sun was a hand breadth above the western horizon. They’d better hurry if they wanted to find the Bigfoot before nightfall.