The Light: The Invasion Trilogy Book 3 (11 page)

Chapter 21

Rain pounded and soaked through his uniform top. They patroled in a column with James leading the way, winding a path up the steep hillside toward the radio tower just visible in the distance. Lightning flashed, exposing bits of the darkened trail in strobes of uneven light. He couldn’t get his mind off the walled community and the people inside. His heart told him Laura was there, and he wanted nothing more than to return. Looking ahead, he saw Rogers and James. He knew they wouldn’t steer him wrong; he had to trust them as he always had.

James paused at the end of the thick woods. Kneeling, he let his eyes pan over the clearing ahead and pointed to a lone grassy hilltop barely visible in the low light. The steel bunker door cut into the hillside was barely visible between the flashes of light. “You think the others made it up here?” Jacob whispered.

Rogers shrugged. “Someone did, and they made a half-assed attempt at camouflaging the door with brush. I wonder who? Only one way to—”

“Wait,” James whispered, extending an arm to ease them back into cover. He waved and pointed down the trail before ducking back into the brush.

Jacob followed the scout’s gloved hand and saw them: three tall Red Sleeves leading a fourth and shorter Gold along the muddy trail that led to the radio tower. The aliens moved through a clearing of high grass, following the trail toward them at an angle. Jacob knew from the previous trip that the trail would disappear in a bend before traveling past where he now stood. The two Reds stalked out front, leading the way, with the Gold in the middle, and the other Red following farther back.

Jacob crouched in the heavy brush and raised his rifle, taking aim. Rogers reached over and squeezed the hand guard of his M4, shaking his head side to side. “No guns. We fire up here and they’ll be all over us.” Rogers released his grip on the rifle and pulled a fighting knife from a scabbard on his chest. James smiled and quietly slipped across the trail before ducking into cover.

Jacob searched his belt, looking for his own knife. Rogers looked back at him and whispered, “Let them pass. We’ll take the lead two, and you take down the one in the rear. We need this to be quiet.”

Jacob nodded. “And the Gold?”

“We’ll handle that one last. It doesn’t appear armed, maybe it’s wounded,” he said.

Jacob tipped his head in Rogers’ direction and watched him slip away. He then did the same. Squatting and slipping back into the wet foliage, he allowed himself to blend with his surroundings completely before the alien patrol emerged from the cover of the bend. Jacob’s heart rate quickened as the first of the Reds moved past his hiding spot.

He could hear the creak of the alien’s uniform, flexing and squeaking in the rain like polished leather. The thought distracted him.
It wouldn’t be leather unless the aliens had cows, or is any hide leather?
The aliens’ helmets emitted a soft glow of light where they fit over the creatures’ heads. Jacob wondered if they had special optics like night vision and thermals.
They must,
he told himself.
They’re advanced. But if they do, then why haven’t they spotted us? Or maybe they have and it’s all a trap, maybe they planned all of this.
Another moved past, and finally the smaller Gold figure slowly neared Jacob’s position.

Jacob sat perfectly still, allowing the cool rain to flow over his body and the damp leaves to shield his form against the wood line.
No,
maybe it’s the rain. That’s why they can’t see us; it must mess up their optics.
Before he could finish his thought, a low hum emitted from the lead creature. The others halted and raised their rifles. Jacob watched the Gold step ahead, moving closer to those in the lead while the one in the rear turned to face the trail behind it.
Just as a trained soldier would,
he thought.

He froze, watching the tail Red’s head pan and scan the tree line, sure that it would turn and spot him less than five yards away.
They couldn’t have seen me. If they did they would have already fired. Maybe it’s a proximity sensor then, just something that detects, but doesn’t pinpoint… I guess that’s possible. No more impossible than aliens landing in giant pumpkins.

Jacob heard a growl followed by several barks. He watched as the Gold took a startled step back. The scout dog was on the trail now, in a fighter’s stance. Duke showed his teeth and growled, the hair standing stiff on the dog’s back. A Red squared off curiously, the humming became louder, and he raised his rifle. From nowhere, streaks and blurs of multi-cam crossed the trail followed by a flash of steel and a spray of blood.

Jacob remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He forced himself forward, springing from bent knees to explode onto the trail and colliding with the far larger creature in a footballer’s tackle. The creature ducked and tried to roll Jacob off. A fatal mistake. It was at the wrong angle, and Jacob was able to curl his arm around the thing’s neck and sink his blade just under the alien’s helmet. The crunch of bone and the tearing of sinew vibrated through the knife as the blade struck home. The creature collapsed while its wet sticky blood warmed Jacob’s gloved hand.

Jacob hit the ground hard and continued his forward roll into the grass, somehow finding his way to his knees, his rifle slapping against his side from the sling. He looked up and saw the Gold staring at him. It pointed its golden-gloved left fist in Jacob’s direction. Seeing him on his knees, helpless and only feet away with the bloodied knife, the creature hesitated. Things moved quickly; Jacob sat stunned, looking at the creature that he was sure shared his own sense of shock.

The dog’s continued growling, joined by a noise from up the trail, forced the creature to look away and into the direction of the sound. Rogers and James were slowly approaching with their rifles held up, the crumpled bodies of the red-sleeved soldiers lying dead at their feet.

“Take it easy there, Gold Finger,” James said, moving ahead and leading the way with his rifle’s barrel.

The Gold stiffened, its head shifting from Jacob to James while its gloved hand moved along with its head. It stopped on James and pointed a gold finger.

“Now, I ain’t sure what it is you got going on with that fancy glove, but where I come from it ain’t friendly to point,” James said.

The alien curled its finger, gracefully retracted its hand, and then removed its helmet. James’ jaw dropped as his head leaned back, his eyes squinting in the low light. The creature revealed a soft feminine face. Perfectly shaped and formed like the finest porcelain doll. Rain pelted off its smooth hairless head, water running down and over high cheek bones. The alien lowered its arm and rested the helmet on its hip. She blinked wide eyes and spoke in a smooth female voice. “I submit; I am yours to do with as you wish.”

James stammered, taken aback by the alien’s appearance and soft-spoken words. He sarcastically shook his head then exhaled loudly, regaining his senses. “Oh no, this isn’t the first time I’ve had a pretty gal tell me that. Never ends well for me, usually passed out and naked with all my credit cards gone.”

“Cover and bind it,” Rogers said. Stomping forward, he slapped a pair of zip ties in James’ hand.

Jacob watched as the bearded scout nodded and yanked a bit of cloth from his belt. He grabbed the slender alien by the shoulders and spun it around, blindfolding it. He took its right wrist and bound it with a zip tie, but before he could wrap the left wrist, the hand opened, revealing a flash of light. James’ arm’s stiffened, and he convulsed while falling back. Rogers was still close. He swung hard, catching the creature in the solar plexus with the butt of his rifle.

The alien reeled, releasing James from his agony. The creature turned, now trying to direct its weapon at Rogers. Before it could, the soldier stomped down heavily on the outside of the alien’s knee, forcing it down, while Rogers threw a forearm to direct the alien’s weapon up and away. The creature let out a screeching gasp as it fell into the thick mud.

Rogers moved by the crumpled form and kicked its ankles so that they were close together. With his boot on the thing’s back, he squatted low and grabbed the creature’s gloved wrist then twisted it so hard Jacob thought it may snap. Unable to remove the weaponized glove, he used a roll of tape and made several passes to get the tape to stick in the pouring rain. He wrapped the gloved hand into a fist before binding it to the other then taped the creature’s arms to its waist. “Try that again and I cut the hand off,” he said.

Rogers then eased back and taped the ankles together. He leaned down and easily hoisted the now restrained creature to his shoulder. James was still recovering on the ground, sitting up wide eyed and forcing an embarrassed smile to his face. “You okay?” Rogers asked.

“They get me every damn time,” he chuckled.

“Give it a rest! It isn’t even human,” Rogers spat. “Get off your ass; we need to move.”

Jacob smirked and extended a hand, pulling James back to his feet; the scout stood and slapped the wet mud from his pants. “What about them?” Jacob said, pointing to the dead.

White lights came on in the far distance, emitting a soft glow that outlined the hilltop and backlit the radio tower.

“Leave ’em, there’s no time,” Rogers said, already moving toward the bunker door. Crossing the remaining distance at a near jog, Jacob followed Rogers’ lead, with James lagging behind, still recovering from the stun. The bunker door was partially concealed by cut limbs and pine boughs, but not enough to completely hide it. Rogers moved past it to the sloping hill and dropped the creature hard to the ground. He spun back to Jacob. “Keep an eye on it.”

Jacob nodded and moved toward the crumpled form and knelt down with his rifle close to his chest. He watched James move in and take a position across from the door with Duke by his side. Rogers worked his way through the cover of the brush and tapped lightly on the door before lifting a latch and swinging the door in. A low rectangle of light cut out and Rogers turned back. “Get inside, now.”

Chapter 22

The building was old; exposed rough-cut planks covered with heavy coats of paint reflected back the soft glow of gas lanterns. High industrial rafters were covered with webs and stained with dust and smoke from a hundred years’ worth of fires. Clem let his eyes adjust as he searched the open space, noting the walls were covered with block and tackle, and rusted hooks wound with heavy rope hung from the ceiling. In the back, he could barely make out a group of people huddled around wooden tables lit low by candlelight, the flickering flames silhouetting the mass of people.

He could smell the wood smoke and a faint scent of roasting meat. People spoke in hushed tones. A vehicle door slammed and he heard the husky woman’s commanding voice behind him. “Leave your gear against the wall; you can hold onto your rifles,” she said as she stomped past him.

Masterson followed her then stopped by Clem’s side. “What do you think?”

Clem dipped his chin. “Do what she says; maybe there’s a hot meal in it for us,” he said, tossing his rucksack to the side. When the others were out of earshot, he turned to Masterson and whispered, “We need whatever intel these people can give us.”

Masterson shrugged and stepped off, following the others toward the candlelit corner. Faces slowly materialized around the table. Four women—their hair pulled back and wearing dark clothing, army surplus jackets, and ill-fitted hunting parkas—were hovering over a road map covered with push pins.

A red-haired woman looked up at Clem, scowled, and turned to Ruth. “Who are the strays?” she asked.

“Found them on the road. I didn’t think they would make it through the night on their own,” Ruth said.

Clem grunted; the red-haired woman looked at him, then back to Ruth. “How’d it go?”

Ruth moved around the table and ran a hand across the map, pointing a finger at a long stretch of road. “Here,” she said, taking a pin and pressing it into the map. “We wrecked one of their trucks and a squad of their soldiers. No casualties on our side.”

The woman raised her eyebrows. “Any of the little ones?”

Ruth nodded. “Yeah, you were right about them; they’re still eager to take us in. Whatever has them spun up, it hasn’t stopped them from wanting prisoners. We stopped in the road like you told us and that thing came right out to greet us.”

The red-haired woman showed no emotion; she looked back at Clem and Masterson. “And what’s the story with these two?”

Ruth scowled. “They were up in the weeds—watching us, I guess. They seemed useful and didn’t get in the way so I brought them back.”

“Useful? Ha! Hell, if we hadn’t been up there, they would have cut you down,” Clem said. “You can’t hit an up-armed patrol with hand guns and liquor bottles.”

“My ass! You put us in danger; my girls had it handled.”

Clem laughed at that and moved closer to the table. Looking behind him, he found an old wooden chair and pulled it close before sitting down.

“Go on… make yourself at home,” Ruth scowled.

Ignoring her, he leaned forward and stared down at the map. “So, what have we got here?”

The red-haired woman looked him over then let her eyes drift to Masterson, her gaze stopping at his weapons and equipment. “I’ve seen enough soldiers in my time to know you’re either military or one of those veteran militia crazies. Which is it?” she asked.

“Which would you prefer?” Clem said.

“Mister, whoever you are, we don’t have time for games.” She turned and whispered to one of the younger girls positioned around the table. The young girl, barely a teen, nodded then moved back, disappearing to the left.

Masterson stepped out of the shadows and stood over Clem’s shoulder. “Military, ma’am. Excuse our manners; we’ve been on the run since those things showed up. We were prepping to ambush the group on the road when your party came along.”

“So you haven’t followed the call to surrender like the rest of them?”

Masterson looked down at her curiously. “Surrender, ma’am?”

She turned back to a radio. “A man has been on the radio broadcasting a looped message. He claims they’ve negotiated peace. Said all of the military units were being stood down. If we drop our weapons and come in peacefully that these things—friends he called them—would take care of us.”

“Anything else?” Clem asked.

She nodded. “They claim we are the aggressors now; that they have come in peace, and we attacked them.”

Masterson shook his head and looked to Clem before looking back to the red-haired woman. “Honestly, this is the first I’ve heard of any surrender. As far as I’m concerned, my boys will fight until they don’t have any fight left in them,” he said.

She nodded curtly, looked at the map, and pointed a finger. “Okay then, so how many in your command? Where are they? We need supplies.”

“I’m sorry; I dissolved what was left of my company yesterday.”

“Then you did surrender,” she snapped back.

“No, ma’am; just sent them underground so they could cause more damage. I assure you they are doing what they can to slow down the enemy.”

The young girl returned to the table, holding a notepad. She handed it to the red-haired woman, who flipped through pages cautiously before stopping at one then set the notebook on the table. “Toronto is completely lost. They have the city surrounded; only unarmed civilians are being allowed to enter.”

Clem cleared his throat and spoke up, answering for Masterson. “Before we get into all of this Q and A, how about you tell us who you are and what you’re all doing here?”

She smiled and pulled up a chair of her own. “They call me the Grandmother, and this is the resistance.”

“Resistance?” Clem said, trying to keep a smile from his face.

“Mister, I’m sure you can find humor in this, but after they showed up, things changed. All of our men are gone; the camps aren’t safe anymore. While the military has been doing whatever it is you do, those things were going from town to town, killing every man standing against them and taking the rest away. Most of the camps, and some of the cites, are completely occupied now.”

“Wait, what do you mean taking the rest away?” Masterson asked. “Taking them where?”

The woman lifted the notepad and shook the small book. “We think we know where, but what we don’t know is why. Most of us came from the city before it was sealed off; some of us from the camps to the south. Those things came in after the first of the bombs dropped on the cities and military bases. Then they waited… they used the black eyes to corral us, and then they started capturing. I was with my husband and two daughters when they cornered us on the road. We tried to surrender…”

“What happened?” Masterson asked.

“One of their soldiers executed my husband then one of the small gold ones did something to us, and we couldn’t move. They put my girls in their truck… I would be gone too if Ruth and her people hadn’t come along.”

Ruth grunted. “It wasn’t nothin’ heroic… completely by accident. We were running, the same as the rest. We’d just been attacked west of Toronto after the first of the bombs dropped and had been driving through the night when we saw Sarah lying on the road and those things standing over her. They took her girls and were about to take her too. We just did what we could; started shooting. I guess it was enough because they pulled back and let us be.”

Masterson nodded. “How many of you are there?”

Ruth frowned. “We had a lot more yesterday—I lost a lot just finding this place. We were out looking for survivors when we ran into their patrol.”

“So your attack on their convoy today, that was spontaneous?”

“We try to keep patrols out around the clock,” she said, motioning to pins on the map. “Our priority is to find survivors before they do. But, if given the opportunity, we kill them.”

“And you think you know where they are taking them?” Masterson asked.

Sarah nodded and held up the notebook. “One of the women we brought in this morning knows where a dome landed. She said their soldiers were walking survivors on the road toward it. More are being guided that way by the hour. We have contact with all of the militias in the area; they are ready to strike when we give the word.”

Masterson looked down at Clem beside him. “We need to get eyes on this thing and find out if maybe there’s a way to hurt it. How soon could your people be ready to attack?”

A door opened and a pair of women dressed in fatigues carrying pump-action shotguns filed into the open room. “Ruth, they’re here,” one said, alarm showing in her voice.

“How many?”

The girl shook her head. “There’s a lot of them this time; way more than before. I don’t know if they’ve seen us, but their numbers are growing.”

“What’s going on?” Clem asked.

Ruth looked away from the girls and locked eyes with Clem. “The Black Eyes—they found us.”