F5: Invasion of the Orcs

F5: Invasion of the Orcs

(Author's note: This story is an entry into FAWC (Friendly Anonymous Writing Challenge), a collaborative competition among Lit authors. FAWC is not an official contest sponsored by Literotica, and there are no prizes given to the winner. Every story for this FAWC begins with the exact same line. Where it goes from there is up to the author.)

* * * *

Upon the table lay three items: a handkerchief, a book, and a knife. These items were soon joined by a small shovel and a length of paracord. Several boxes of hollow point .40 along with a couple of magazines and a Smith & Wesson M&P .40 were placed on the table. Moments later the items were loaded into the dark green pack, magazines and spare ammunition placed last, in the outer slash pockets. The pack was lifted up and slung over the owners' right shoulder, then left, with the hip belt buckled in snugly. The M&P .40 was slid into a holster on the right thigh, not the most convenient place for it, but the thigh would have to do. To the back door she went, pausing only for a second to glance back at the inside of her home one last time, then out she ran not even bothering to shut the door behind her.

She ran till her lungs felt like they were going to give out, collapsing to her knees amidst the forest foliage then falling upon her left side, chest heaving to try and catch her breath. A quick glance at her watch revealed that a half hour had passed. Her eyes closed and mentally she thanked the track coach that had encouraged her to train for marathons. She could still hear his voice in her mind, "Laura! Slower Laura, slower! Speed will come once you conquer distance!" She wondered if perhaps he'd made it out too, how many had actually made it out in time.

When her breathing and heart rate had calmed to an acceptable level, she reached down to grab the water tube. Lightly she brushed off the visible dirt on the bite valve and put it in her mouth to take two small sips. While she was of the school that resources were better held in the body than out, until she could get to a source of water and the time to filter it she would be rationing what she had.

Slowly rising up, Laura's head whipped around, trying to place where she'd exactly run to, or at least a decent proximity. A sigh as she thought of the GPS unit left behind, no longer useful, not since the day before. She'd brought along a compass, the one her father had given her when she was ten and flirting with the idea of being a Girl Scout, but without a map it was nearly useless. Sighing, she began to walk in the only direction that made sense for now, further away from town.

For once in her life, squirrels became the enemy, as they bounced around the forest floor. Each landing sounded like footsteps, and if they hadn't sent her into a panic every time they occurred, she would have smiled recalling father's hunting stories. Now they just caused her heart rate to spike with each innocent landing, causing her to jump and press herself against the nearest tree trunk.

The sounds of helicopter blades overhead made her thankful for the late spring foliage shielding her from above. Slowly she picked her way through the forest floor, trying to tread in a manner that would leave little tracks, walking toe to heel instead of heel to toe. Occasionally she paused to listen around her, hoping to hear the trickle of one of the spring-fed creeks in the area and praying that she didn't hear the sound of anyone hunting her.

Time passed agonizingly slowly, her keeping the slow pace while the sun still hung in the sky. As she walked a rudiment plan began to formulate, dependent upon finding a creek or stream and nothing larger. If she could find a creek, she hoped to be able to travel it at night and attempt to build a shelter to hide during the day. This did mean that she would have to stop wherever a suitable location for hiding presented itself, but considering that the days were still growing longer she was willing to make that sacrifice. Anything to keep from being captured and shipped off to one of the camps.

Shortly before nightfall her ears finally heard the sound of water running, bubbling over the rocky land. Fighting all desire to make a quick dash over, Laura paused and crept up on the water, wary of anyone that might be waiting for her there. Painstakingly slowly she made her way over, till there were only a couple of feet remaining. At that point she couldn't hold back the excitement and made a quick sprint over to kneel by the creek side and splash the cool water upon her face.

Deciding the place was as good as any to rest until the sun was fully set, she soaked the handkerchief in the creek and wrapped it around the back of her neck. Settling against a tree trunk, she brought the pack up against her side, ever wary in case a random Dai soldier patrolled out this way. Feeling about as safe as she had in days, Laura allowed her emotions to come forwards, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed.

* * * *

Three weeks prior astronomers were celebrating the return of the Swift-Tuttle comet, returning on its 133 year journey. The comet was just within sight for the naked eye, treating amateurs and professionals to a good show. When several objects seemed to break away from the comet, the professionals made note of it, presuming them to be space debris and giving no further thought.

One day later a sphere crash landed in Beijing, kicking up a mound of debris around it. Within twenty four hours it was joined by another dozen of the strange, dark green spheres. The Chinese, efficient and highly protective of their capital city, quickly had it surrounded with a company of ZTZ-99 tanks and a platoon of their latest design the MBT-3000. Ariel coverage was provided by their Z-10 attack helicopters. There they waited and observed the perfectly smoothed surface, while scientists, politicians, and military leaders debated how to approach the object.

The world was on edge, with no one aware of where the spheres had come from. The internet was aflame with conspiracy theorists demanding that the world's governments come clean about all they knew while behind ornate wood doors the world's leaders sweated out their true lack of knowledge. CNN dedicated full 24/7 coverage claiming it was a scare tactic by Republicans to get more military funding. Fox News countered with experts claiming this was a show being put on by the Chinese to demonstrate superiority. The masses went about their days as normal, as exciting as the news was the need for a paycheck outweighed the anticipation.

Just as progress was being made in the endless political debates, in being able to calm down those who outright wanted to blow up the object, a white air like steam began to stream out of the spheres. TV cameras whipped from the reporters in front of them to zoom in, watching as rectangular sections began to rise up.

The world waited with baited breath as the apparent doors lifted away and off to the side. The view of the inside was distorted by the steam, fully zoomed cameras only able to make out a variety of lights within. The mayor of Beijing, left out of the day's discussions, stepped towards the spheres his left hand held high in greetings. As he reached a few meters from the rim of the crater, a beam of purple light shot forth from the initial sphere, and the mayor disappeared from view.

For a few long seconds the world stood still as people absorbed what had just occurred. The first piercing scream tore through the still air shocked everyone back to the present. Cameras remained focused on where the mayor had been, revealing the smoking remains of his lower legs. Panic ensured in the crater area as citizens fled the grounds while the troops headed towards the spheres. Meter long flames spurt forth from the tank turrets while rockets roared overhead, the explosions raising smoke and dust high into the air and obscuring everyone's view.

When the smoke and dust thinned out, the molten piles of what had been the tanks were all that remained. The cameras, abandoned by their operators, remained focused on the spheres. They recorded the first movement, deep green fingers coming to rest upon the edge of an opening. Seconds later they flexed as the figure leapt out and onto the solid ground.

The figure was dressed from the neck down in a dull, silver metallic armor. Its head was blocky, belaying a muscular form, in the same deep hunter green coloring as its fingers. The hair upon its head was black, oily, and wild, continuing down its face into a greasy short beard. The creature looked back at the spheres and swung it's right hand forwards, signaling for the others to follow suit.

Around the world panic ensued, politicians were whisked away to hopefully secure underground bunkers. Those lucky enough to have bought a house with an old Cold War nuclear bunker began to make preps to hide in them. The talking heads on tv attempted to relay some forms of information, trying to appear useful. At best they only managed to get out estimates on the average size of the beings, one and a half meters, and that they were moving about the land via a sort of jump pack.

* * * *

Laura had been in her Intro to Environmental Sciences class, listening to the professor drone on about the importance of fungi to the forest when the news broke out. Several students who had been perusing the news instead of taking notes on their laptops cried out in horror as the real time news played upon their screens.

Within a minute or two the entire class had surrounded themselves around any device capable of streaming the news. Even the professor had given up in mid-sentence, lower lip quivering in the horror that was going on across the ocean.

Class was dismissed when the professor finally snapped back to reality. By the looks of the parking lot, she guessed that every class was being dismissed as people realized what was going on. She turned on the police scanner upon getting in her car, wondering if she could figure out what they had her father doing. Preparing for it, she thought, and then wondered what exactly anyone could do to prepare for this attack.

In between reports on the scanner she listened to the radio stations, most of which had ceased to play music in order to bring news. What little news was stated was spread out with banter between hosts trying to figure out what was going on. Laura shook her head as she listened to them referencing various science fiction movies and books. Arriving home she found a letter awaiting her on the table:

<i>Laura,

Got called into the station, senior detectives meeting. Not sure when I'll be home so I left you a meatloaf ready to put in the oven. Bake it at 350F for one hour. Be sure to lock up at nightfall if I'm not home and feel free to put the leftovers in the fridge.

Love you,

Dad</i>

With a sigh, she dropped her backpack on a chair, feeling no point in trying to do any homework. She grabbed a Mountain Dew out of the fridge and flopped on the couch, turning on the tv to find some news coverage. During lulls in the coverage she made her dinner, musing about how there was danger on the planet and yet she really didn't feel afraid at the moment. Odd how that was, but there were only a few of them and humans had so many millions of weapons at their disposal.

The stress bleed and heavy meal began to overcome the caffeine and sugar of her drink, causing Laura to drift in and out of sleep on the couch. News reports became questionable as she wasn't sure if they were being reported or if they were things she'd dreamed up. During one blink of her eyes, she swore that Michael Jackson was doing the moonwalk on a sphere. A scene of more spheres peeling off from the comet was dismissed away as probably another dream.

She vaguely remembered hearing her father come in or that he laid a blanket upon her. By the time she woke up in the morning her father had already departed. Laura rose and went about making herself a cup of coffee in the Keurig while flicking the tv back on to see if any solid information had developed overnight.

Adding in a dash of sugar and cream, Laura stirred the coffee as she entered the living room in time to see a world map displayed across the screen. She watched as red dots representing spheres began to appear across the map. First Beijing, then Moscow, Sydney, Kuala Lumpur, New Delhi, Bucharest, and many other large cities and capitals lit up. She hadn't noticed her hand shaking until the hot coffee began to splatter upon her wrist.

Slowly she settled on the couch, placing the coffee down as she watched wide-eyed at clips of the green beings, apparently labeled now as orcs by some.

Being that they were in a small town, tucked away deep in a National Forest, she wasn't yet worried for her own safety. The creatures were still roaming through the cities, seemingly taking their time destroying and slaughtering the human residents. The sheer horror of the event was overwhelming, and yet she found herself glued to the screen, soaking in every minute of it.

A couple of hours of watching and the news had droned back to repeating the same things over and over again. Leaving the tv on, Laura began to go around the house assembling bug out bags for the two of them. Her father had shown her how to do it on several occasions and when pot growing season in the forest was going on, usually had a pair setup.

The items were placed upon the kitchen table, two a piece, laid out as they would be placed into the packs. The heaviest items would be placed in the center of the packs to keep their balance. When she'd assembled the items for the bags, Laura went to the safe and retrieved the M&P .40 her father had given her. Every time she picked it up, she could hear his words, "never willingly go into a gun fight with anything that doesn't start with a 4." He'd purchased the .40 shortly after the department had purchased them for all the officers. Impressed with the light weight and the smooth trigger, he'd insisted that it would be the one she carried to defend herself.

An oiled rag was taken out of the cabinet and wrapped around the pistol, best to keep it covered in the humidity. She placed it along with several extra magazines on the table, sighing and wondering what the point of carrying the extra weight would be. It didn't seem the creatures had a weakness, or at least not to one that humans currently possessed. Then again, as shown in previous riots and wars, it wasn't always the known aggressor that someone had to be wary of.

Once the bags were set up, she was beginning to get anxious again from being idle. Wandering over to the fridge, she pulled out a venison chuck, took it to the kitchen island and proceeded to break it down for stew. Way she figured was, there was no way of knowing if the power grid would stay up and stew made a few days' worth of meals.

When her father hadn't made it home by supper time, she ate the stew while watching the news. The latest updates showed the orcs making their way through the cities and so far there had been no successful human assaults on them.

The sound of someone testing the door lock spooked her back to the present. Laura sat low on the couch, suddenly wishing she'd kept the .40 closer to her instead of the kitchen table. When she heard the sound of a key slipping into the lock and turning the tumblers, Laura breathed out a sigh of relief and a little laugh at how spooky she'd been. When her father opened the door, she gave him a little wave from the couch, "hey Dad! Long time no see!"

He gave her a tired smile and walked over to the hallway table to deposit his wallet and keys. "Hey, how are you holding up?"

"Well...a little jumpy," she admitted, "but I'll be okay I think. Doesn't look like things are going well are they?"

"No, no they aren't. Don't think we'll be keeping things up and going like this too much further. The department's already not responding to a number of calls for minor things. People under too much stress as is. They've had us working eighteen hour days just to keep up with the insanity as people snap from the stress and worry. Seems to be just a matter of time before those...those things start making their way out here. But for now, what's that delicious smell in the air?" He offered her a tired smile, trying to hide his own worries and get her mind off of this for now.

She nodded along, not really surprised with anything he told her, having already drawn the same conclusions herself. There really seemed no good answer as to what to do. Laura returned the smile of his, "I'm sure you know its stew. There's some in the Dutch oven in the oven." A little grin, she'd always found those sort of things amusing, an oven in an oven. "There's also a loaf of pumpernickel bread on the table."

"Mmmm," his face brightened a little at the thought of the filling meal at hand, "thanks, I really need this." Off to the kitchen he wandered, glancing at the bug out bags and nodding approvingly before turning his attention towards the waiting stew and bread. A bowl was filled up and a large chunk of the bread ripped off the loaf and buttered lavishly. Mark swiped a Miller Lite out of the fridge before coming to the living room and plopping on the couch.

Taking the hunk of bread, he dipped it into the gravy and took a large bite, making a very satisfied sound as he chewed. Laura had recently been interested in her mother's old recipe cards and this particular stew was one he hadn't had in six years, not since Maureen had lost her battle to pancreatic cancer. With the recent events he feared this would be the last time he'd get to taste it again. Brushing the thought away after swallowing, he gave Laura a smile, "It's quite good. You're getting really handy around the kitchen, aren't you?"

"Well you know Mom used to teach me, so I have the basics. That and she left really good instructions," she smiled in return, trying to hide the bit of pride at the compliment. Her legs tucked under her on the couch, eyes watching the news while letting him have the time to eat. As he ate, she could see the exhaustion crossing his face and had the feeling that even though she had lots of questions, he wouldn't be up long to answer them. So it came to no surprise that when he finished, Mark excused himself to put the empty dishes into the sink and head off to bed.

When the local news ended at midnight, her last source of information since many of the major cable networks were shutting down and evacuating, Laura headed off to her bed for a restless night of sleep. Every bump and sound in the night spooked her out of the light slumber she'd conned herself into.

By morning she'd fallen into an exhausted sleep, dozing until the sound of a bird right outside her window finally roused her. Walking out of the room she found that her father had already headed out for another long day of work. Shaking her head lightly, Laura began her day's routine, first by stretching herself out. Donning a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, out the door she went for a jog.

As a kid she'd always loved to run and when her mother had passed was when she became serious about it. Putting in long miles on the roads and trails allowed her the time to mull things through with little interruption. Today was no exception as the run gave her the chance to feel a bit of normalcy after the past couple of days events and escape into the rhythm.

The calm demeanor on the street was almost strange when she considered the destruction going on in the cities. Yet, there wasn't anything she thought that she would be able to do and so she ran her route, savoring the ability to do something normal for one more hour longer. When finally her route ended with her back inside, Laura did a post-run stretch and stripped out of her running clothes.