The Black Book

It was here. Here is where I found the Doctor's black notebook. I can see it clearly in my mind. From this spot, you could gaze across the valley over the color-coordinated rooftops of dozens of neighborhoods arranged in tiers extending down to Main Street South at the lazy rivers edge far below. It was our favorite picnic spot. We would drive here in our little old, red convertible with a big cooler and folding chairs and a disgracefully dusty blanket to lay beneath us. We sat above the bustle of the neighborhoods and reflected in the peace of the hillside. A peace which was only occasionally interrupted by a jogger, clad in fashionably bright-colored tights, puffing quickly by.

I remember thinking, "Looks like this is someone else's preferred spot too." when I found the book. It was at my foot as I spread the blanket and opened the chairs. Dean was bringing the red cooler and Rex was doing his best to be cute and unhelpful, as small dogs are want to do. I glanced in the front cover, read "J.F. Taylor 608-782-1479" and resolved to give J.F. a call when we got home. It traveled in the bottom of the blanket bag and was quite forgotten when we got home as I simply hadn't told Dean about it when he got back with the food and drinks.

"Hey, Babe. What's this?" Dean asked me a week later when he finally brought the blanket bag and its forgotten notebook in from the trunk. I slapped my forehead and told him about finding it at our spot on the South Hill Fire Break and Off-Leash Area. I grinned sheepishly and said I hoped J.F. Taylor would be so happy to have it back that they wouldn't mind that it smelled like a musty picnic blanket. 

He laughed back and told me that J.F. Taylor should be happy we grabbed it because that was the day we rushed to pack up because rain rolled in quickly, sending Dean running to put up the convertibles brown soft top. If it hadn't come home with us it would have been thoroughly soaked by the drenching that the local news station failed, again, to predict. He then winked at me with that handsome face and I felt my heart do that loopy thing he could always make it do.

A year later, I sit here on the same burned-up hillside looking down into the partially destroyed valley. Dean is dead and I can say unequivocally, "Fuck that fool, Dr. Jerome F. Taylor." I wish I had left the book to rot in the rain. I wish like hell I had set it on fire. We all would have been better off. As I press myself to the hillside in my dark camo, desperately hiding a ridiculously conspicuous sand-dune tan rocket launcher under my body, I contemplate what brought me here. What brought the world to this. I close my eyes and hope that the surveillance ship doesn't see me under my thermal reflective shield.

Of course, I couldn't have known. At the time the chance find resulting in the generous reward on behalf of Dr. Jerry had been so much like a boon. I had been languishing at a retail job I hated and the local university had a diploma program I could just about pay for with the $20,000 the Frink-Tabor Astronomical research Foundation paid for the finding of the Doctor's notebook. Dean, happily supported me, covering the food and rent, so that I could quit the job at the mall. He was so happy I had found something I could get enthusiastic about. And, after repeatedly running into the absent-minded Doctor on campus, Dr. Jerry hired me to save him from his own disorganization. I got $7.50 an hour for organizing his office and calendar 2 hours a night 5 nights a week. It's a wonder to me still that the scattered but friendly Archaeo-Astronomer brought about the end of the modern world at the hands of alien invaders. I mean what were the chances?

"Damn. That was close." breathes Private Lin nervously. He lays on top of two shield-piercing rockets half as tall as this teenager turned soldier. I had met the kid just that morning when the instructions for the coordinated attacks on the prison camp and the airbase were issued. Me and eleven other 'veterans' were issued the new recruits to schlep our metal and hopefully learn something. I said very little to the kid so far. I didn't think it would improve his confidence to know that merely 4 months more of experience made me the 'veteran' in our company.

"Eyes on the prize, Private." I murmur starchly, looking out over the valley. We are mere moments from the appointed time. 

"Yes, Sergeant." he gulps and refocusses the binoculars on the high-powered fence of the prison camp. "The third tower from the gate on our side has the first invisible tag. Halfway up is the target. The tall tower with the circular base at the center of the compound is marked as our second target. It holds the primary gun turrets that will try to kill the escaping prisoners."

"You just make sure you are quick with the metal and quiet on the retreat. I can't explain losing another one of you newbies because you were stupid enough to get caught. The last asshole they issued me is in there." I said gesturing at the prison.

That was a bald-faced lie. But hearing that I watched helplessly from the bushes as the cocky Private Gonzales was dragged up before a group of a dozen aliens and swiftly gutted for her complicity with the human resistance wasn't going to embolden the twitchy Private Lin. No. It was better he not think about the swift death likely to befall both of us today, even if we hit our targets. Better to think about what we may gain if we are victorious. The freedom of over 50,000 humans, including his parents, was a more positive train of thought. We held still for the second pass of the drone and then assembled the first rocket into the launcher.

Seconds ticked by. I thought about bacon. Dean had made BLTs that day I found the book. He had looked expectantly at me and asked what I thought of the sandwiches. To be honest they were a little bland. He had forgotten the salt and pepper over the tomato layer again. I didn't have to make them though, and the picnic was a nice surprise after a long and unsatisfactory day at the grind. So I thrilled him by calling them delicious, then chowed down with the addition of the crunchy Salt And Vinegar Potato Chips he brought to enjoy with my cans of Sprite and his own favorite, Pepsi. He proudly declared the bacon was a fake made of beans and he had put $2000 dollars on the vegan stock that morning after tasting the surprising product in store. We had marveled over the convincing non-meat and several months later after it had experienced modest gains he cashed out with $1000 more than he had bought it for. Our date night to celebrate his windfall was a glorious night that ended with him proposing to me. Less than two weeks later I buried him tearfully, hastily with Rex and five of our neighbors in a hole under a spruce tree in the park nearby. God, I loved that man. I look down at the engagement ring he gave me and steely resolve rolls through my soul.

"You know what to do after we install the second shot, right?" I snap at young Private Lin.

"Run for the brushes and stay put till the battery on my shield is half gone. Then circle back to the secondary location and wait for notification that we're clear for return to camp." he replies mechanically. The kid fidgets with the second shot, making sure the ties are clear. He gets ready for the moment I drilled him for all afternoon.

"And?!!" I prompt with menace.

He winces at that, "The left lapel has the cyanide and is a far better death than if they capture and torture us for our bases location."

"I expect your post-operation report promptly soldier. Don't you dare get yourself killed coming home." I chide aggressively as I take aim at the tower. Five... Four... Three... Two... One.

The launcher jerks predictably and installs the round into the first tower. A second of silence leaves a moment of doubt but as we moved to reload the structure rips apart and the wavey telltale lines of the electric walls disappear. Lin hesitates for a moment but I yell a belligerent "Goodbye" and he is gone with a nod as I take my second shot at the now well-lit turreted tower. The target position explodes and I drop the launcher to run for the breach with one of our heavy bore secrets.

Pandemonium erupts as the 5 other teams' volleys also land and the prisoners run for their lives. The power across the horizon flickers and the city streets, including the invader tower ships, are suddenly plunged into darkness as the attack on the airstrip also commences. Quickly though, the aliens have their drones and MAVs in the air and begin to cull their human prisoners.

I take out my heavy bore and begin firing at the drones and MAVs hovering over the escapees. I fire for Dean and I fire for stupid Dr. Jerry and all the poor bastards who've died fighting for the liberation of our planet. I see a creature-topped aerial vehicle turn away from the people fleeing, towards me. Away from the people running for their lives and our species survival. I level the alien tech secret and hear a soft pop as it throws scalding light at the alien warrior and tears it to shreds just as efficiently as if I was throwing bombs. Brilliant voids of light can be seen erupting from behind the barracks as my compatriots bring down their aerial targets. I can see prisoners descend upon the downed vehicles and stomp their captors to death. The drones are dragged away by the courageous in groups to be salvaged for equalizers like the one in my hand.

I regroup with Torres, but Miller is nowhere in sight, and as I turn on the radio I hear Boggs tell Smith that Rauch is dead. Torres grabs the radio and yells that nothing has changed and we go in as planned. Miller staggers up just as Torres and I arrange ourselves at our designated point of entry. Blood leaks down her neck from her obliterated ear but she nods, takes a steadying breath, and raises her bore as we aim at the door to the experimentation lab. The rest, for us, will certainly be life and maybe even death, but these few coming minutes will undoubtedly make history. History both for us and for the alien invaders.

Together we fire.