X War: Infiltration: X WAR, #1

By John Triptych

Around the world, a series of unnatural events starts an inevitable countdown to a shocking revelation that will change everything we know about the universe. From strange lights in the night skies, to the disappearances of key scientists who were about to reveal an astonishing breakthrough, mankind must deal with a threat from an unknown enemy.

Piper, a troubled teenage girl, begins hearing her dead brother's voice. Elsner, a disgraced reporter, finds more than he bargained for when he investigates a UFO cult. Thorne, a treacherous spymaster, plays both sides in his quest to survive the coming onslaught. Perry, a retired government analyst, is brought back when a doomsday scenario he had once envisioned actually comes true.

The chosen few shall soon determine the fate of humanity. Only one thing is certain: we are not alone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Triptych
• Release date: Jun 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393006060

John Triptych

John has varied interests, and his love of everything is reflected in genre-busting novels ranging from real world thrillers all the way to mind blowing science fiction. A consummate researcher, he derives great pleasure and satisfaction when it comes to full spectrum world building and creating offbeat characters based on the real life people he meets in his travels. Website: https://ko-fi.com/johntriptych VIP mailing list: http://eepurl.com/bK-xGn

Book preview

1 Northern Wisconsin

STARING INTO THE CABIN's stone fireplace, Greg Barton leaned back on the old wooden chair and tried to relax, but he just couldn't. He had thought this hunting trip would take some of the stress away, but the problems in his life seemed to be just over his shoulder, haunting him like a clinging specter that wouldn't let go. Whenever his mind wandered, the bad moments would return and settle themselves into his immediate thoughts, making him moody and restless.

The dying embers cast a flickering, orangey illumination across the cabin's interior, partly contrasted by the constant yellowish light from the antique oil lamp on the nearby table.

Barton continued to watch, his eyes transfixed by the fading glow as the air around him began to cool. He should have gotten up and thrown another log into the fire when it started to burn itself out, but his body refused to move. Whatever strength he had remaining subsided along with the fire as he held the quilted blanket ever closer around his body.

The door to the outside opened with a creak, and a short, brown bearded man stepped inside after using the outhouse. Nate Wilson was originally from Canada, before taking his family south of Lake Superior and settling down in Green Bay. He had known Barton for years, and this was their eleventh annual bear hunt.

Nate glanced towards the dying fire before he turned his attention towards Barton. What the hell? It's about to go out. We're going to freeze in a minute here.

Barton shrugged. I’ve got a blanket.

Shaking his head, Nate strode over to a pile of firewood and placed several small logs into the hearth before stroking them with a metal poker, hoping they would ignite. After a few minutes, the fire was restarted, and he sat down on a nearby wooden bench after putting the poker back in place.

Barton closed his eyes, feeling the expanding waves of heat as the fireplace began to roar back to life. Five minutes past midnight, and he would be turning in soon in order to be rested for the early wake up call.

Nate made a low hiss. You're welcome.

Sorry, there's been a lot of things on my mind lately.

Like what?

Barton reopened his eyes and turned to face the other man. Evelyn. She wants a divorce.

Nate's eyebrows shot up. Really? That sucks. I was wondering why you've been in a dark mood since this morning.

Yeah, she wants half of everything, and she's gonna take me to court if she doesn't get what she wants.

Nate shook his head. Cosmic bitch.

She told me I could buy out her share of my business and she'll only take cash. My business—the shop my daddy owned and willed to me just before he died. Can you believe that?

I tell you, the damned courts stripped away our rights and gave it all to the women now. This country is screwed. It's like that in Canada too from what my brother told me.

Barton gritted his teeth. I swear if Evelyn had walked up to the bait we set up this afternoon, I would have shot and skinned the bitch. That's how much I hate her right now.

Amen to that, partner. I would have helped you out in skinning her.

If we don't spot a black bear by tomorrow, maybe we oughta—

Their conversation was interrupted when the front door opened up again, and a third man leapt inside. Jonathan Hoyt was the third and final member of their hunting group, and his blue eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as he stared back at the other two while catching his breath.

Nate leaned back on the bench, using the side of the nearby table for support. You going to divorce your wife too?

Hoyt shook his head while energetically gesticulating with his hands. Guys, you're not gonna believe what I just saw out there in the woods!

Nate started to chuckle. Let me guess, Greg's wife Evelyn? I bet she's going to take this cabin too since it's in his name, he said, pointing a finger towards Barton.

No! Hoyt exclaimed before lowering his voice to a near whisper. I saw Bigfoot.

Nate howled in laughter while Barton closed his eyes and shook his head slowly from side to side.

I'm not kidding, guys, Nate insisted. I was by my truck and sorting out some stuff at the back for tomorrow's hunt when I saw something moving around, less than twenty feet away.

Barton remained skeptical. There's nobody out here for miles. This whole place is private property, and inaccessible to the public. If someone drove up to the cabin we'd have heard them by now.

Maybe the Sasquatch was driving one of those newfangled electric cars so we wouldn't hear it, Nate quipped.

Hoyt made his way over to a work table and picked up a Remington Model 783 rifle lying on the countertop beside a six-pack of crushed beer cans. After checking to make sure there was a round in the chamber, he grabbed an extra magazine and placed it into the pocket of his hunting vest.

Nate got up and made a calming motion with his hands. Whoa, wait a minute. If there is something out there, it's probably just another man.

I know what I saw, Hoyt said as he moved towards the door.

Barton stood up as well, letting the blanket fall to the floor. If there's someone else out here, he might try to steal our stuff.

Hoyt glanced back at them. I'm telling you guys it wasn't a man! It must have been at least eight feet tall, and covered in fur.

Barton pointed towards the other man's rifle. And what are you going to do with that?

Since you guys don't believe me, fine. I'll just go and bag it for you.

Hold on, Ed, Nate said as he tried to block the doorway. Let's say we believe you. It's probably just some idiot wearing an ape suit out there trying to prank us. If you shoot him and he dies, you could end up in jail.

It's not a man that's out there, Hoyt repeated. It didn't even move like a man. I saw it in the corner of my eye, and it had very long arms, its fists were nearly touching the ground. When I turned on my flashlight and tried to get a bead on it, it moved quickly behind a tree and—

Hoyt's words were cut off when all three men heard a strange bellow coming from the outside.

Barton leaned forward while looking out the window, but saw nothing but the suffocating darkness. What the hell was that?

Bear? It sounded like one, Nate said.

That was no bear, you idiot, Hoyt said. It's the Bigfoot.

As all three of them began peering out from the closed window, the night sky suddenly became as bright as day, as if a giant searchlight was pointed down at the entire cabin.

Barton looked away as his eyes were temporarily blinded. Goddamn it, what in the hell is going on?

Nate partly opened up the window in front of him. Whoever is out there, this isn't funny. We've got guns and this will turn ugly if you try anything else!

Without warning, the burning lights above them were suddenly extinguished, plunging the entire area into darkness once more.

Opening another window, Hoyt poked the barrel of his rifle through the aperture. Rubbing his eyes to get rid of the flash blindness, he tried using the scope after about a minute. I can see some real big shapes by the trees. I think they're all around us.

Nate continued to disbelieve what was happening. Isn't that Indian Reservation just a few miles north of us? Maybe they're just doing one of their ritual dances or something?

It was all too much for Barton as he too grabbed his own rifle from the table and cycled the bolt, chambering a 7.62mm round into it before walking up to the window once more.

Nate could barely breathe. Guys, don't start shooting yet, okay? If you do then the law is gonna come down hard on us.

Barton peered through the scope of his Ruger M77 bolt-action rifle as he trained the weapon to his left, right where their cars had been parked. He held his breath when he saw large humanoid shapes moving slowly around his Ford pickup. After observing one of them placing what looked like an arm on top of his vehicle's hood, he finally snapped and pulled the trigger.

The crack of gunfire was like a large cherry bomb going off. The shadowy shape he had been aiming at seemed to momentarily stagger after he shot it, before letting out a deafening, enraged roar.

Barton shuffled backwards in panic as the outside shadows began to converge towards the cabin. Nate cried out in alarm while reaching for his rifle as Hoyt began to fire at the advancing horde.

Hoyt managed to shoot off three rounds before his magazine was empty. Just as he reached into his vest pocket to try and grab for more ammunition, a large arm covered in black fur reached in through the window and seized his rifle by its barrel. Hoyt gave a defiant curse as he tried to hold on to his weapon, only for his whole body to be suddenly yanked through the window, bursting through the upper glass pane.

Nate screamed as he tried to use his body as a counterweight against the things that were trying to smash the door down. He had managed to slide the locking bolt in place, but it didn't seem to matter as the thick wooden door was quickly splintered like matchsticks, and the horde poured through.

The last time Barton saw his friend was when several trunk-like hirsute arms were grabbing at Nate, and they pulled him past the now open entryway. Nate tried to hold on to the doorsill, but his attackers had so much strength it hardly seemed to matter as he was dragged out into the darkness, kicking and screaming before they started to tear him apart.

With a sense of hopelessness overcoming what was left of his courage, Barton got on his knees while the rifle slipped away from his hands. Please. Leave me alone.

One of the creatures sauntered into the room and loomed over him.

When Barton saw the red glow coming from its eyes he cried out in horror.

2 Russia

MID-NOVEMBER, AND THE snow was already falling hard onto the streets outside. Oleg Ivanov counted himself lucky to have followed the lights in the sky when he woke up after his latest drunken stupor, and found an open doorway leading into the old factory's interior. The small fire he made from scraps of cardboard and paper didn't give off too much heat, but at least it was enough to keep him from dying.

Located just west of the Urals, Perm was a city split between two banks of the Kama River. When Ivanov was born, the city had been called Molotov, so named after the diplomat who had engineered a non-aggression pact with Germany before the Great Patriotic War started. After Stalin's passing, Molotov too fell from power, and the city was renamed back to Perm once more.

Blinking his eyes open, Ivanov propped himself up to a sitting position by the side of the waist-high divider and held his hands out to get warm. Wintertime meant near endless cycles of twilit night across this part of the world, and the cold weather had nearly killed him when the season began. To be homeless was hard enough, but to be homeless during winter would be tantamount to suicide.

I've got another two months in here, he thought as he looked around at the desolate work floor. It was apparent the factory had seen better times, since all that was left were huge empty spaces furnished with nothing but dust and rubble.

Ivanov had once worked in a factory like this, before the fall of the Soviet Union put him permanently out of work. This place is like my life, wasting away until there is nothing left but a shell.

Reaching into the pockets of his worn woolen jacket, he pulled out a crusty piece of bread he had found in the trashcan beside the marketplace before gingerly putting it back inside. I'm not going to eat this yet, he thought. Maybe for breakfast tomorrow.

It didn't occur to him that he couldn't tell what the time was as he fumbled around with his other pockets. The tips of his gloves had worn down, exposing his dirty fingers, and he could feel several matchsticks lining the inner pockets, along with assorted bits of other junk.

When his fingers failed to clasp the small glass bottle, a creeping sense of despair and sadness gripped Ivanov, and his shoulders began to shudder. No! Where did I put the vodka? Did I lose it?

His chin began to tremble as he unbuttoned his coat and threw it off before placing the garment down onto the dusty floor. He ran his hands along the dirt encrusted fabric, hoping to feel a solid, cylindrical bump that indicated there was a bottle inside one of the outerwear's hidden pockets.

A man's voice echoed across the work floor. Hey you! What are you doing in here?

Turning his head, Ivanov could see a man holding a flashlight approaching him from the other side. This other man wore a uniformed jacket and a peaked cap, indicating he was some sort of security guard.

Ivanov quickly put his coat back on as the guard walked up to him and pointed his flashlight towards the old man's face, half blinding him. Ivanov grimaced as he used one hand to shield his eyes from the beam's dazzling glare.

The guard gritted his teeth as he stood over the derelict. I asked you what you are doing here. Will you answer me or not?

It ... it was cold outside.

So what, this is private property. How did you get in here?

Ivanov's voice was close to a whisper. I-I was out in the street, and I saw some lights in the sky, very close to me. Then I felt something and heard voices. It seemed like they were guiding me so I followed. The lights led me to a door in front of this place, then the lights suddenly flew back up into the sky and disappeared. I tried to open the door and it was unlocked. So now I'm here.

The guard snorted. You're drunk and out of your mind. I'm the night watchman here, and I made sure all the doors are locked. You must have broken into one of them, yes?

Ivanov shook his head. No, no. It was open. I swear in the name of the Soviet Union.

Oh, so you're another of those old useless communists, eh? Get up and put that fire out.

Ivanov slowly got up on his feet. Shuffling closer to the small bonfire, he began stamping down on it, but the right sole of his old shoes suddenly gave way, and he slipped, falling to the hard, concrete floor on his side with a pained groan.

The guard tilted his head up and roared with laughter. You old fools are so worthless, you can't even put a fire out properly. He moved forward and stood over the smoldering pieces, using his boots to snuff the remaining flames out.

Ivanov looked up at him while rubbing his aching hip. You disrespectful young punk. Back in my time, everyone obeyed their elders.

The guard finally lost his patience. He moved closer and grabbed Ivanov by the collar of his jacket, trying to pull him back onto his feet. You're leaving right now, even if I have to throw you out! Do you hear me, you old—

His words were interrupted when a strange hissing noise was suddenly heard by both men, coming from one of the waist-high concrete dividers in the middle of the room.

The guard quickly loosened his grip on the old man's collar before moving sideways and casting his beam of light across the vast, seemingly empty room. Who is there? Come out.

After being let go, Ivanov collapsed back onto the floor, his eyes narrowing in the dusky gloom. He could see something shuffling in the shadows, but he wasn't sure what it was. At first he thought it was some sort of monkey, like the ones he had seen in the circus as a child, but this one seemed to be hairless, and almost as big as a man.

The guard took several steps forward, aiming his flashlight at the twitching form huddling by the corner. What in the world?

Ivanov's eyes grew wide when the being suddenly looked up, right into the illuminated beam of the guard's flashlight. The old man's mind barely registered the combination of wrinkled, granite-like skin, pointy ears, and the mouth that bristled with fangs. But the worst part was the seemingly dead bloodshot eyes, with shining corneas in the darkness.

The creature moved so fast the guard had only enough time to make a short scream before it leapt up and wrapped its long, thin limbs around its victim's body, pinning the terrified guard's arms like a vise.

Ivanov watched helplessly as the creature bit into the side of the guard's throat, tearing out the victim's trachea, while its forked, hollow tongue sucked up the gushing blood from the dying man's now opened throat.

Unable to bear witness anymore, Ivanov closed his eyes and looked away, just as he heard a thud, indicating that the guard had fallen to the floor. His ears continued to hear loud slurping sounds, as if a giant dog was inside the room, lapping up water with its tongue.

The moment seemed to stretch out for an eternity, and all Ivanov could think about was the time he’d spent with his wife, before she died of pneumonia. He could picture her smiling cherubic face, and he knew he would be joining her very soon.

And then the sounds stopped. Ivanov didn't dare open his eyes again as he could sense the horrid thing shuffling closer towards him. His nostrils could smell the bitter, acrid scent of blood, and he hoped that his death would be a quick one.

Be not afraid, a strangely accented voice said, somewhere to his left.

Ivanov's eyes opened into slits, his fear of dying temporarily overcome by a sudden curiosity. As his vision came back into focus, he noticed a woman dressed in strange robes standing several meters away from him. She had olive skin, almond shaped eyes, and an absurdly long headdress that concealed everything else but her face. Ivanov could tell that the creature which had attacked and killed the guard was still somewhere close by, and he dared not turn around.

The woman strode closer, until she was less than a meter away from him. Her thin lips crinkled into a smile, revealing her perfect white teeth. You are Oleg Ivanov, and we have been looking for you.

What... what do you want from me?

You shall be our herald here. You will start a movement, one that will begin the ascension of your species.

3 Tokyo

USING HIS CHOPSTICKS, Dr. Ichiro Himura took another piece of thinly sliced beef from the bubbling hotpot in front of him and wolfed it down, but a tiny bit of the meat got stuck in his throat, and he had to cough for nearly half a minute in order to dislodge it. Normally he would have felt a sense of shame if this had happened out in public, but since he was sitting inside the living room with only his wife present in their high-rise condominium, he kept on eating as if nothing had happened.

Chifune, his wife, gave him a concerned look. You should take your time while having dinner.

Himura shook his head. I am sorry, but I need to get back into the office very soon.

But you've just returned home. Why?

My team will be having a conference call with our British and American colleagues, and I have to be there.

Can this not wait till tomorrow?

No, we're on the verge of a possible breakthrough, so everyone is working overtime—just a few more problems to overcome.

Chifune placed her bowl of rice back onto the small table and sighed.

Himura didn't seem to notice as he leaned forward and pulled out a piece of tofu from the sukiyaki pot with his chopsticks before dipping it into his bowl of raw egg and spices. He looked at his wristwatch before placing the tofu into his mouth and swallowed it without even chewing.

I have barely seen you at home for the past several years, Chifune said softly. You've spent every waking hour at your office.

Himura looked up at her as he chewed on a piece of cabbage. Hmm? What's the matter?

Chifune's lips started to tremble. My mother is in the hospital in Osaka. T-the doctors think it might be cancer. I-I want to visit her, but who would clean and cook for you?

Himura stopped chewing. Why did you not tell me this before?

I told you this last week, but it seems you didn't even listen.

Placing the bowl and chopsticks onto the small table, he got up to a kneeling position and reached out to place a comforting hand on her trembling shoulder. I... I am so sorry.

Chifune placed her hand over her mouth, and just managed to stop herself from crying.

Himura sat back and bowed his head in shame. The theoretical work they were doing back at the laboratory had become an obsession of his for the past several years, and it had blinded him to the needs of his own family. Their children were already grown, and all he had left was her. The sudden guilt hit his stomach like a freight train, and his appetite was all but gone.

Chifune snorted softly before reaching out and placing her hand over his. Do not feel guilty. I fully support your work, even though you don't really tell me what it's about.

We were sworn to secrecy, he said sheepishly. It's an international scientific effort, and our discovery could change everything we know about physics in general. The whole world will benefit, that I can assure you.

You don't have to tell me any more of it. I-I just wish that we could visit my mother. The doctors say it is terminal, and she would appreciate it if we came as a couple.

Himura placed his second hand on top of hers. Then I shall do as you ask. My work is mostly done, and this breakthrough could come at any time. I'll see if I can take the day off tomorrow, and we will take the train to Osaka together.

Chifune looked up at him and smiled. Thank you.

Himura's smartphone started ringing, and he quickly leaned towards his left to pick it up before answering. Hello, yes, I shall see you downstairs. After ending the call he returned his gaze to her. It's the car from the office. They're here to pick me up at the lobby downstairs.

But you haven't even finished your dinner yet.

Himura stood up before bending low and giving his wife a kiss on the cheek. I'm sure there will be some food at the office. I'll be back late tonight, but don't wait up for me. Get some sleep, and we'll head to the train station first thing in the morning.

Chifune watched him move towards the door, where his shoes were located. Alright. Don't push yourself too hard.

After putting on his leather wingtips, Himura blew her a kiss before turning around and opening the door. He still wore the same office dress shirt he'd worn to work that morning, and figured there would be no need to get a fresh change of clothes since his lab coat would cover any sort of wrinkles or stains during the video conference.

Closing the door behind him, Himura walked briskly along the outer corridor, heading towards the elevators. The passageway was mostly deserted except for a lone figure wearing a black trench coat standing near the lift doors.

Himura stopped beside the other individual, and glanced towards him, making a slight bow before pushing the down button. Good evening.

The other man merely nodded in return, and Himura noticed he wore sunglasses that completely concealed his eyes. A gray peaked cap further obscured the stranger's features, and it seemed his alabaster colored skin was paler than normal.

Despite his many years of living in the same building, Himura did not recognize the other man, yet he mentally pushed his suspicions aside, figuring that he was probably someone else's guest. The man's skin also seemed like he might have some sort of medical disorder, but Himura thought it best not to ask, for it was not his business.

When the elevator doors finally opened, Himura took a step forward, and was about to get inside when he ended up gawking at a completely identical stranger who also wore a matching trench coat, hat, and sunglasses.

Himura's eyebrows shot up. The other man looked like an exact duplicate of the one standing beside him. What? Are you both twins or—

He never got to finish his question, as the man right next to him suddenly reached out and pinned Himura's arms behind his back, while the man in the elevator got closer and pressed a damp handkerchief against his mouth and nostrils.

Himura tried to twist away, but the man behind him had absurd strength, and his arms felt like they were being gripped in a steel clamp. In his panic he breathed in deeply, the bleach-like chemical smell from the wet handkerchief overwhelming his senses, and he quickly fell unconscious.

4 Northern Wisconsin

AFTER PARKING HIS TOYOTA pickup truck along the side of the road, Elsner Bravy straightened his tie before walking up the driveway towards the small farmhouse. The Bad River Reservation had a population of less than two thousand residents, and he hoped to finish all his interviews by late afternoon.

A middle-aged, heavyset man wearing a wool sweater emblazoned with the Ojibwe eagle insignia stood beside a wooden workbench, hammering a nail into a block of wood. He noticed Elsner coming up towards him with a slight glance of indifference, before returning his focus back to the task at hand.

Elsner stopped a few meters away and smiled widely. "Good morning, I'm Elsner Bravy, a journalist from the Herald. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions about some strange happenings that were reported a few days ago?"

The man shrugged as he took out another nail from a small cardboard box lying on the table in front of him. I don't know what you mean.

Well, a number of residents in Green Bay and around this area reported seeing some strange lights in the sky last Saturday night. Also, the cops are investigating the disappearance of three bear hunters just south of the reservation. I was hoping to see if anybody over here heard or saw anything, since you live close by.

The man placed the hammer down on the workbench and looked up at him. A bunch of bear hunters disappeared? On Saturday night?

Elsner nodded. That's correct, sir. Those three men were last seen by their families as they headed into a private hunting area, just a few miles south from here. One of their wives reported them missing when all three didn't show up for work on Monday. And when the cops got to their cabin by the woods, they discovered the cars they were driving, but the three people were nowhere to be found.

Oh yeah? This isn't a joke or anything?

I'm serious, Elsner said. The cabin was ransacked. The door had been smashed in. All their gear including their hunting rifles were still inside, and it looked like they had been used too.

Some sort of a fight?

Nobody knows. That's why I drove up here to see if anyone heard or saw anything.

The man drew in a deep breath before turning around and picking up his hammer