Gods and Men (Ruins of the Earth Book 2) Read online

  Gods and Men

  Book 2 in the Ruins of the Earth Series

  Written by

  Christopher Hopper

  and

  J.N. Chaney

  Copyright © 2020

  Variant Publications, LLC / Hopper Creative Group, LLC

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing.

  To our faithful readers who helped launch Wic, Sir Chuck, and the Phantoms into infamy.

  —Christopher

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  Book Description

  Ruins of the Earth

  Ruins of the Earth #1

  A secret buried in the Antarctic.

  A puzzle unsolved for thousands of years.

  And a Brooklyn-born Master Gunnery Sergeant who's royally pissed that he has to babysit the researchers sent to figure it all out.

  Patrick "Wic" Finnegan's last op as a Marine Raider before retirement sends him to the frozen Ellsworth Sub-glacial Highlands. The only reason he's here?

  He owes a favor for an old friend--but that doesn't mean he has to like it.

  When Wic finally sees what the team has uncovered, he can't believe his eyes, nor is he prepared for the violence to come.

  Soon, the portal opens and unleashes a storm of unbridled fury upon humanity.

  From the Antarctic tundra to the streets of Manhattan, Wic and his team will be pushed to their limits as they fight to hold back Earth's ultimate threat.

  The odds are against them. Governments are toppling. And the Earth is falling into ruin.

  Contents

  Previously

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Part Two

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Part Three

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  The Story Continues

  Super Good Time Feelings Merchandise Store

  Stay Connected

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Previously

  Last time in Ruins of the Earth Book 1…

  After barely surviving a violent encounter with unexplained robotic forces at the Ellsworth Subglacial Highlands Excavation Site in Antarctica, Patrick “Wic” Finnegan returned home and promptly retired from the United States Marine Corps. But as soon as he secured his long-sought solitude, Wic felt compelled to investigate a strange anomaly looming over lower Manhattan. To his shock, the enemy forces he’d encountered in the southern hemisphere were only the beginning of what he’d soon discover was a global alien invasion.

  Forced to join arms with a small, multi-branch contingent of US military service personnel, Wic went on the hunt for the only man he knew who might have a clue about taking down the enemy: his childhood friend, Dr. Aaron Campbell. But when his search was interrupted by Androchidan death angels, Wic found himself the owner of a sentient AI rifle named Sir Chuck.

  Eventually, the newly named Phantom Team found a way under the lethal herding dome and attempted an assault on the portal ring that bisected the Brooklyn Bridge. But when their initial mission failed, Wic was forced to seek cover beneath the city. There, despite numerous engagements with their alien pursuers, the Phantoms were rescued by the Russian Bratva, and Wic was re-introduced to an old ally: USA-loving, fanny-pack-toting Vladimir Petrov.

  Aided and resupplied by his unlikely Russian benefactors, Wic, along with Hollywood, Bumper, Ghost, Yoshi, Z-Lo, Aaron, Lada, and Chuck, orchestrated the dramatic and highly effective ANFO bombing that brought down the enemy gate. But even with millions of people liberated from mass relocation off-planet, Phantom Team realized their work had only just begun. Cities across the world were besieged by the same horrors as those faced in New York.

  Despite his deep desire to return to the Pennsylvania countryside and disappear, Wic embraced the call to save humanity and resist the Androchidan Empire. The plan? Take the fight to the enemy’s front door by heading back to the one place Wic never wanted to see again: the ring at the Ellsworth Subglacial Highlands Excavation Site in Antarctica.

  As Wic was about to step through the portal’s threshold, he looked at Chuck and said, “Here goes nothing.”

  “Wrong, my good man,” Chuck shouted back as electricity snapped across the stone and onto his receiver. “Here goes everything.”

  Part One

  1

  1600, Sunday, June 27, 2027

  Location Unknown

  Last Known Location: Ellsworth Subglacial Highlands, Antarctica

  “Anything you care to tell us, Chuck?” I yell at my busted-ass alien weapon from inside our stolen dropship, Dolores.

  “Might you be a tad more specific, Patrick?” he says in his John Cleese sounding voice. “There are so many things I could expound on for you that we could be here a while.”

  “It looks like a staging area.” I thrust an open palm at Dolores’s wraparound flight control monitor. “For an invasion.”

  “And you were expecting…?”

  I shrug. “Maybe something a little less hostile?”

  “I can assure you that we are in no imminent danger. This is all business as usual.”

  “I’m gonna hold you to that, pal. ’Cause if we get shot, I’m feeding you to the flounders.”

  “You’re a sick man, Patrick.”

  Phantom Team has just come through the portal, which was surprisingly uneventful. Now we’re looking out across the biggest, most advanced hangar I’ve ever seen. The cavernous space is dimly lit in red hues and teaming with Androchidan death angels, bots, some overlords, and dropships just like ours.

  Further back, I make out other vessels that look like gunships. How do I know the
y’re gunships? Well, they have stubby wings with weapons pods, badass V-tails, and mean-looking blacked-out cockpits—in my book, that means they want to kill you. Highly scientific assessment, I know. Beyond those are even larger ships that look like armed cargo haulers.

  It feels like I’m on a movie set again. Only I know this ain’t science fiction because back on Earth, humanity is being herded and culled like sheep.

  “We’ve got incoming,” Z-Lo says from his seat at the helm.

  Dolores’s ultra-wide display shows four dropships and two gunships headed our way. Identification reticles mark each ship and list data and coordinates.

  “What do we have for weapons?” Sergeant Susanne “Hollywood” Catania asks. Her intelligent dark eyes dart across the screens in an attempt to size up the situation.

  “We don’t need weapons,” Chuck replies.

  “Like hell we don’t,” Bumper yells.

  Never tell a Navy SEAL he doesn’t need a weapon. He’ll just make one out of some Q-tips and duct tape and then kill you with it before your protest is over.

  “You’re sure they mean us no harm, Chuckles?” I ask.

  “I already told you as much. Keep your distance, Z-Lo,” he says to the kid. “They have no reason to attack us.”

  “That’s what they said about Romulan warbirds too,” Yoshi says from the other captain’s chair. He looks agitated. “Oh look, they’re powering up photon torpedoes too. It must be a picnic.”

  “Can it, Yoshi,” I say to our Air Force JP and resident alcoholic. Even though he almost got me killed on the Brooklyn Bridge, he’s a competent medic and good shot.

  “Are you sure they are not wishing to killing us, Phantom Lord?” Vlad asks in his thick Russian accent. “I have seen many American films where good guys think all is super fine, and then BAAM! people are dyings like—”

  “Oh, Blimey O’Riley,” Chuck interrupts. “Would everyone pop a Xanax? These vessels mean us no harm. To them, we’re just a transport returning to be reoutfitted.”

  I glance over my shoulder at Chuck. “You’re sure about all this.”

  “To use your words, yut.”

  “Smartass.”

  “Crayon eater.” Then Chuck calls out to Z-Lo. “Proceed to the landing zone designation I’m putting on-screen. And slowly, please. We don’t need any undue attention.”

  I put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Nice and easy.”

  He nods and then uses his hands, which are both wrapped in orange rings of light, to move us out of the way of the six oncoming vessels. They pass without firing on us—I consider that a win—and then enter the portal’s field. One second they’re here, the next they’re gone.

  I feel Phantom Team breathe a collective sigh of relief.

  “They headed back to Earth?” Bumper asks Chuck.

  “Indeed, Phantom Three. It appears that word of our recent activity in Lower Manhattan has finally reached command, and Mother has ordered reinforcements.”

  “Mother?” I reach around and pull Chuck off my back. “You mentioned something about her when we first met.”

  “Ah. You’re right. I wasn’t quite myself back then.”

  “But ya’re now. And you’re pledged to help us too, so…”

  “So who is she?” Hollywood interjects.

  “The Androchidan’s queen, for lack of a better term. Think of an ant colony or a beehive. Same basic principles.”

  “And Mother sends military force to investigate New York Big Apple?” Vlad asks from behind me. He’s still got his American-flag-print fanny pack on. But now he’s wearing army green cargo pants and a white Celine Dion shirt, circa late 90s, complete with cutoff sleeves.

  “The matter certainly has piqued the Androchidan’s interest, yes,” Chuck replies. “Look.”

  Two of the larger ships at the hangar’s far end lift off and head in our direction, like lazy C130s climbing after takeoff. Damn things don’t even look like they should be able to fly, and I doubt they’ll get through the ring. The ships look like someone made an egg out of metal, smashed it semi-flat, and then stuck all sorts of random hardware on it.

  “What are those?” I ask Chuck.

  “The nickname is untranslatable in English and refers to an animal native to Androchida Prime. Your closest Earth equivalent would be something between a rhinoceros and a beaver. A Rhinoceaver, perhaps?”

  “Looks as ugly as that sounds,” Hollywood says.

  “And their purpose?” I ask.

  “Defense and construction.”

  “Holding telephones,” Vlad says. “Are you to tell us, enemy wishes to rebuilding giant exploded ring?”

  “Your broken English notwithstanding, yes, Vladimir. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  “Well, that’s not good.” I watch the two Rhinoceavers line up and narrowly miss the ring’s sides as they pass through the portal.

  “What was the use of destroying it if they’re just going to rebuild it?” Yoshi asks and then takes a pull on his flask.

  I eye him until he looks away. “That’s why we’re here. To find a way to stop them, to stop it all.”

  “Copy.” Yoshi caps his flask and tucks it into his vest.

  Z-Lo lowers Dolores into a slip marked with bright yellow paint on the black floor. As our vessel touches down, it blends in with at least a hundred other dropships in rows of two. Although “blends in” might not be the best term; the graffiti along Dolores’s hull pretty much screams, “Hey, assholes! Look at us.”

  Z-Lo starts the engine shutdown sequence, and I can feel the crew start to relax. We made it. Step one complete.

  “I don’t want to alarm anyone,” Chuck says. “But we are about to be inspected.”

  I lean toward the display. “By whom?”

  “Every ship returning from deployment receives an initial inspection by Terminal Command.”

  “Can’t you just tap into the network and say we’re all green?”

  “I lost that ability long ago, Patrick.”

  I frown at him. “When?”

  “When having the Androchidans track me meant putting you in harm’s way, remember?”

  I think back to our first exchange along the Garden State Parkway. “So no more connectivity to the plushies’ internet then.”

  “Correct. Though I am still quite adept at conversing with them, and even making you sound like one of them. That is, so long as you look like one of them.”

  I’m about to question him, but then his meaning hits me. “The armor.”

  “Bravo, old bean.”

  “You want him to play dress-up?” Hollywood asks.

  I can hear Charles grinning behind a smug little smile. “Of course. Don’t you, Hollywood?”

  She puts a hand on her hip and smiles at me. “And see him try and walk in that armor?” She gives a small laugh. “Would love to. Heels are a bitch.”

  “Come,” says Lada, Vlad’s older sister, her arms covered in tats. “I am helping to undress and dress you. Make sure everything fits nices and firmly, yes?”

  “Nope. I’ll be just fine, thanks.”

  “I dunno.” Hollywood’s got a twinkle in her eye. “Something tells me you’re gonna need a woman’s touch.”

  “And you don’t have long either,” Chuck adds. “Time to get suited up, Captain Underpants.”

  No matter how much I protest, Lada insists on helping me get the alien armor on. Fortunately, the only things I need to shed are my Kevlar bump helmet, MOLLE Interceptor vest, utility pouches, gloves, and boots. Lord knows the tattooed Russian tigress would like me to take off more. I keep my skivvies and cammies on and then take a drink from my Camelback.

  The Androchidan kit is built on a black suit that feels a lot like neoprene with a porous inner liner. It seems to have several internal bladders, extra cushioning around the joints, and a network of tubes or wires running throughout the suit—maybe both. It also needs a thorough cleaning: stuff smells like cat piss and ammonia. But no one in
war ever smelled good. There’s the price of beauty, and then there’s the price of staying alive.

  The emerald-green armor plates lock around my limbs and chest with some sort of electromagnetic system that gives off a hum followed by a click as each component snaps into place. For smelling so god-awfully foul, it’s advanced as hell.

  The last things to go on are gauntlets and boots. While bulky, the gloves seem incredibly articulate—eh, save for the extra thumb digit on each hand. The boots fit well enough but have a raised heel, which makes walking in them weird. So that’s what Hollywood was referencing earlier.

  I reach for my SCAR 17 and mag pouches when Chuck interrupts me.

  “There’s no time for that, Patrick. The inspection detail is almost here. Plus, you must look the part.”

  “You’re telling me I’m going out there without my weapons?”