DOOMTROOPERS, Book 1: White Sky Friday

By Simon Drax

The War is over. Earth has lost. Haunted superbabe Gloriana Blitz leads a gang of foul-mouthed Army brats aboard a nuclear submarine in their battle against all-powerful alien invaders that have devastated the planet. DOOMTROOPERS is an action-driven pastiche of anime, manga, and American comic books.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Drax
• Release date: Jun 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9780967360416

Simon Drax

SIMON DRAX was born in Gloomy, Massachusetts. His writing has been published in The Quarterly, Bonesaw, Midnight Zoo, Fever, After Hours, and VideoScope. Drax is represented by Matt Bialer of SJGA. He lives with his family in Connecticut.

Book preview

DOOMTROOPERS

Book I: White Sky Friday

Simon Drax

Copyright © 2011 Simon Drax

Smashwords Edition

Cover illustrations by Christina Chen & Paul DiNovo This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For my mom

Table of Contents

EPISODE 1: FUN CITY

EPISODE 2: NO EXIT RADIO

EPISODE 3: TIME, BABY

EPISODE 4: ASHES

EPISODE 5: LOVE & ROCKETS!

EPISODE 6: THE KILLING FLOOR

EPISODE 7: NO MERCY

EPISODE 8: THE SKULL BENEATH THE PAINT

EPISODE 9: THE STAR

EPILOGUE: FAR AWAY

EPISODE 1: FUN CITY

THEY HAD nearly finished wiring the bomb when Perry came splashing down the main tunnel.

Dudes! he hissed. They’re on to us!

A string of muttered curses sliced through the subterranean gloom: Shit! and Damn! and Oh, ultra!

How many? demanded Gloriana Blitz. She splashed to Perry’s side to look at his scanner. Mick and Sasha swung out their weapons, hit MAX, exchanged a glance and nodded. At the bomb, Clive smirked and shook his head. Oh, no, he said between his teeth as he tightened the next-to-last bolt. We’re doomed. We’re all gonna die.

They were in the sewer tunnels beneath what used to be New York City, once the unofficial capital of the world, a place where one could have purchased a chili dog and a cheap thrill and a new suit all at the same street corner. But that was both a heartbeat and a lifetime ago, before the war, before the invasion. Now the city belonged to the Nytemare.

Perry held up the scanner for Gloriana. It was a metal box with a tiny video screen, where red dots glowed.

Shit! Gloriana said. One Scout AE, four Gun-Dusters, looks like some aerial back-up…

The dots on the screen vanished.

Perry shook the unit, slapped it twice. The red dots returned. Piece of junk! he cried.

But Gloriana Blitz was already moving. She wore form-fitting commando black and a brown leather flight jacket. Ammo belts were strapped across her chest and around her waist, rows of thermionic grenades clipped to her shorts. She had close-cropped blonde hair and full lips and a crescent-shaped scar on her right cheek, a large mole under the corner of her left eye. Her eyes were crystal-cut blue, piercing but weary, eyes that had seen too much, too soon. In another month she’d be eighteen.

She fired-off commands. Mick! Sasha! Extreme prejudice! Perry, Clive—with me! As she spoke Gloriana pulled out a black, bulky handgun, a smaller version of the big guns Mick and Sasha carried. The weapons were jerry-rigged, pieced together from the wreckage of alien artillery; on low power they could blast through two feet of high-tempered steel. Gloriana switched her gun active. There was a heavy electronic click! followed by a steady whine. The others waited, their weapons drawn. They were dressed in an outrageous assembly of scavenged clothes: khaki and camouflage, sneakers and baseball caps, bulletproof vests and black leather and US Navy Fastlink headsets. Under her jacket Sasha wore a tee declaring Darius BURNS! in huge letters across the front. And they were all young. Kids. All roughly the same age except for Mick, the youngest. Despite his impressive sideburns and rugged, wolfish features, Mick was only fourteen.

Gloriana said, It’s going to be close, so keep it tight! Our pick-up’s in… She checked her watch. Two minutes!

Assuming, Clive broke in, "that your big phony bastard boyfriend is on time—"

Aw, Jack’ll be there, Perry said with easy confidence.

Yeah, Jack’s the man! Mick howled. Wicked ultra!

"—and, Clive continued, rushing to finish his work on the bomb, assuming the bastard was able to secure the Sioux, and assuming he was able to get through their defense screens—"

Hey Clive! Gloriana snapped. You finished or what?!

Clive pocketed his wrench. He had a wide sharp face and delicate elfin features. He flicked back his riotous mop of jagged black hair and studied Gloriana and the others for a moment behind his wire-rimmed glasses, then turned to the bomb. It was a fat, silver capsule nearly waist high, hot-wired with a tangle of wires and covered with strips of black tape. Clive took a wad of pink gum from his mouth and squashed it flat onto the bomb, covering a three-pronged symbol with the words

WARNING

THIS DEVICE + 300 MTG +

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Finished, Clive said.

All heads turned to Gloriana.

She looked into their faces. Another time, another place, she might have smiled, even laughed; they were all trying so hard to look tough guy. She wished briefly that her father, General Blitz, could have witnessed the fruits of his labors. The Old Man had done a real number on these kids.

Gloriana pushed the thought aside. She raised her weapon and demanded, Ready?

Yeaaaaaah!! they shouted, their voices spiraling into wild shrieks and assorted battlecries of Fuck ’em up! and Rock and roll! Clive stood from the bomb and swung his modified Uzi 9-Millimeter into position. Yeah, yeah, rock and roll, he droned, and then he was hurrying with the others, splashing down the long dark tunnel toward the ladder that would take them to the surface and the enemy.

Perry called out readings as he ran: Creeps on positive track, bearing zero-two-nine! They’re coming in faster than—

They’ll be right on us! Gloriana warned. Be ready!

They reached the ladder. It stretched up and vanished into a circle of light. They heard the heavy-footed KA-SLAM! KA-SLAM! KA-SLAM! of the approaching enemy Gun-Dusters. Gloriana looked at her watch, then up into the circle of light. More than a minute till pick-up. Jack, she thought, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick…

She turned to Mick and Sasha. "You guys up to a full charge?

Sasha nodded, once. Gonna kill ’em, kill them good, she said through clenched teeth. But Mick was still a little unfamiliar with his makeshift weapon. Uh, yeah, he said, puzzling over the taped-on dials and read-outs.

What’s the problem, Clive said to Mick. That’s the output, that’s the discharge, that’s the safety—got it?

"Hey, man, why don’t you use it, Mick said. You built the fucking thing, let me use your Uzi!"

Fuck that! Clive said. I had to put a damaged coil in your gun’s relay, the sucker might blow up in my face!

Mick blanched. Perry wailed, Dudes, zero-zero-three!

Man, it’s a joke! Clive slapped Mick on the back and made a sudden fist. This kid’s ready to rock!

Then get up there! Gloriana cried. Let’s hit ’em!

Up the ladder. The thunder of the Gun-Dusters grew louder, faster. Hurry! Mick and Sasha reached topside; Gloriana heard Sasha yell out a warning, There! Over there! followed by the high-pitched blare of their weapons as they opened fire. The tunnel shook with a blast from above and Gloriana winced, forced herself to climb faster through the falling dust and debris. She took the rungs two at a time, hauled herself through the hole and up into the street.

The dead city greeted her with flying shrapnel and ear-splitting cacophony. She barely had time to get to her feet, much less make sense of her surroundings—a blur of empty, blasted skyscrapers, and towering above them, the black, monolithic shape of the Nytemare processing plant—before she realized Sasha was screaming, Six! SIX! SIX!!!

Gloriana spun. A Nytemare Gun-Duster was bearing down at them at top speed, its armored feet smashing the concrete with each stomp, weapons blazing. She responded as her father had taught her, instantly. Glori dropped to one knee and she and Mick and Sasha fired as one, a triple-blast of staccato crimson that lanced out and struck the Duster head-on. There was a violent crackle of energy; the Duster exploded with a burst of fire and smoke and toppled dead in the center of the street. Gloriana stood, her eyes whipping past the smoldering wrecks of two other Gun-Dusters and a Scout. She was about to order the team forward when the ground suddenly erupted with fresh rips of enemy fire. Clive ducked back into the hole with a yelp, then came back up an instant later, Uzi rattling. The bullets spanged and bounced off their target, another Gun-Duster rising behind an overturned bus up the street.

The Duster was gleaming and metallic black. It stood nearly twenty feet high, an oval-shaped chassis mounted on two legs and equipped with a score of gun barrels. The Duster kicked the wrecked bus aside in a crash of dead metal and came stomping at them, its gun turrets swiveling around to lock-on with lethal accuracy.

Cover! Gloriana yelled.

The team scattered, Mick and Sasha to one side of the street, Gloriana and Clive and Perry to the other. The Gun-Duster adjusted for the maneuver in mid-step, belching a volley of projectiles flying like shrapnel as its weapons turned to track Mick and Sasha with a whine of gears and then opened fire; the air shattered, the broken windows of the building behind Mick and Sasha exploded as they scrambled for cover. Gloriana and Clive pulled the pins from their thermionic grenades and let them fly. The Gun-Duster detected their movement—too late. The thermionics went off with a flash and a teeth-grinding WAKA-WAKA-DOOOM!!! and the Duster went down on one leg, still firing, then blew apart into a splintering shower of hot metal.

YAH! Perry screamed into the rain of debris.

Shut up! Give me a sweep! Gloriana looked around, then yelled to Mick and Sasha, You guys clear?

What? Mick yelled back. Yeah. Ha ha ha!

Whew! Perry said, making a face as a cloud of fumes from the dead Gun-Duster swirled into the air. That stuff stinks!

They use some kinda metacarbolic shit for fuel, Clive said, but it’s no worse than your breath, Perry. Gloriana began to cough as the fumes reached her; Clive touched her shoulder and said, Easy, killer, his breath’s not that bad!

Don’t call me killer, she managed to gasp, squinting at Mick as he jumped and shrieked with post-combat glee. She shouted, Mick, take it easy! then succumbed to a fresh fit of coughing.

Hey… Perry nearly lost his footing as he clambered up a pile of rubble and peered through white haze at the brittle ruin of the city. You don’t think anybody’s still…?

No chance, Clive breathed. They’re all gone, fucking aliens cleaned ’em out like bugs…

Heads up! Sasha called. Hear that?

They looked at the sky. They heard the low, angry chop of an engine, getting closer, rapidly climbing to a deafening level. A second later the origin of the sound came tearing into view from behind one of the skeletal skyscrapers: a Sioux A-60 Attack Helicopter, very low, coming in fast.

Jack! Gloriana half-said, half-coughed as the Sioux descended upon them in a storm of sound and wind and dust. In the cockpit a young man with mirrored shades and short, spiky brown hair grinned at the dirty team as he set the craft down with a bump.

Gloriana made a fast check of the street, then whistled, held up one finger and made a wide flat circle in the air: Clear out! Mick and Sasha moved first to the copter, striking a defensive position on both sides of the hatch door as it slid open. Gloriana and Perry and Clive scrambled over the rubble and broken bricks and jumped into the craft.

Still grinning, Jack flipped a toggle on the dash and spoke into the mike of his headset. HOT! HOT! HOT! he said, his voice booming through the copter’s PA. FOUR DUSTERS AND A SCOUT! ULTRA HOT, WARDOGGIES! He spared a special grin for Gloriana as she squeezed into the gunner’s seat below him. She winked back, and unseen by either of them, Clive rolled his eyes. Sasha slid the door shut. The Sioux screamed with gathering force and lifted into the air.

Jack glanced over his shoulder and asked, IS THE BOMB READY TO BLOW? Clive responded with an unenthusiastic thumbs-up and looked out the port window as the Sioux tilted forward then shot like a rocket down the narrow trench of the street. Clive grimaced against the sudden acceleration; he watched the corpse of the city where he grew up fly past.

Ready to blow, he said. Ready to kiss it goodbye.

WHAT YA SAY? Jack boomed through the speakers.

Sky high! Mick shouted beside Clive. Rock and roll, yaaaaaah!

New York fucking City, Perry drawled. Let’s see the other fighter groups top this!

Great place to visit, Sasha said, making a rare attempt at humor, but I wouldn’t want to live here!

HEY, I LOVE NEW YORK! Jack said, his grin widening under the mirrored shades. WHAT A GREAT VACATION!

Everyone laughed except Clive, who pretended not to notice Gloriana slip on her gunner’s headset and switch off the PA.

Right on time, hero, she said into her mike.

Jack’s grin mellowed into a satisfied smile; he began to nod to himself, up and down, up and down, as if listening to some secret beat only he could hear.

Jack was the oldest of the group, practically ancient: twenty-six. Aside from Gloriana’s father, General Blitz, Jack had been the only real soldier among them when the aliens came and screwed up everybody’s life. He wore a tight khaki tee-shirt and dog tags. His bare arms were lean and strong. Gloriana watched his oil-smeared hands move over the controls with confident ease and the Sioux tore through the devastated streets. They were only seconds from their destination, the South Street Seaport. The sharp grey edge of the harbor came into view.

Jack’s voice crackled in her headset. You okay, Glori?

She nodded.

Check out the wheels! he said, indicating the cockpit of the Sioux. Too bad we have to ditch it, isn’t it hot?