The Light: The Invasion Trilogy Book 3 (12 page)

Chapter 23

With dawn came an eerie calm as the rain beating on the roof soothed her. The storm continued, its thunder blocking the dark thoughts in her head. Laura tossed the thick comforter away and left the bed. She cautiously crept the hallway, fully expecting to see Francis still there, but he was gone. The kitchen was clean, and the door closed. On closer inspection, she could see that he’d left it unbolted. She did not know if that was a show of trust, or a test, or possibly a complete loss of faith in her.

Laura approached to the door and pulled away the heavy curtain that covered the glass pane set in the top. She saw two women standing alone at the end of the sidewalk. They were dressed head to toe in black, only their bald heads exposed. Laura eyed them suspiciously. The women stood in place until they were joined by others, then they turned toward the door and navigated the sidewalk in Laura’s direction.

She backed away, put her hand on the lock, and felt the sweat building in her palm. When she looked back up, she could see a dark-faced woman standing just outside the door. She heard the knock and before it could register, she saw her hands open the door. The woman stepped into the opening and inspected her, her head slowly panning over her body. The woman reached for Laura’s wrists. Her hands were cold and dry as she turned Laura’s palms up and inspected them.

“You’ll come with us now,” the woman said with an accent the Laura had never heard.

“But my daughter… I’m not even dressed,” she protested.

The woman waved a hand and two women brushed through the doorway, quickly draping Laura in a dark gown and heavy cloak; another woman crouched and placed a leather slipper on each foot. When they finished with her, they nudged her forward.

“Your child will attend school, you will come with us,” the woman said.

“Where is Francis? I want to talk to him,” she said.

From the back, another leathery skinned woman marched forward and scowled at Laura. She looked her up and down and gritted her teeth in disappointment. “Why always the lazy ones?” she muttered before looking Laura in the eye. The leathered woman held a small chrome box and smiled at Laura as she caressed the box in her palm. Laura felt a static sensation in the plate on her head.

“The Creator does not demand obedience… he expects it,” she said.

“And if I ref—?” Laura felt a quick squeezing sensation in her head that subsided as quickly as it came, the world going light then dark as if a light switch had been flipped. She looked back up at the leather-faced woman.

The woman glared back. “Any more questions?”

Laura shook her head
no
, a tear forming in the corner of her eye; she wanted to show strength, but she felt broken, her head still cloudy from the pressure. The woman showed no mercy and nodded to the others. They formed around Laura and pressed her out of the house and onto the walkway.

Not speaking, the women guided her to the street where others huddled around her in the pouring rain. She tried to turn her head but lost sight of the leathered woman. At the next house, she was forced to wait in the street as another woman was retrieved. She now understood the group she stood with were all new like her. This was their common bond; instead of resisting the huddle, she now fell into it. Hands clapped and the group shuffled along, moving quickly now. Laura recognized the course and knew they were returning to the orb.

They were stopped and formed into a straight line, standing shoulder to shoulder. Laura looked up and saw men dressed in the same dark blue as Francis moving from a hatch in the Orb. She watched them until a firm hand squeezed the back of her neck and she heard the leathered woman’s voice. “Do not look at them.” She spoke louder so the others could hear. “Do not speak to them.”

Laura focused her eyes to the ground as a man paced by her, stopped, and faced her before stepping off. She was then led forward; looking left and right, she saw she was now in a new line along with five others.

The leathered woman was replaced by a frail woman in an identical dark robe who said, “Come, this way.”

Following the instructions and moving ahead, Laura saw that the others had already begun to follow, so she fell in close to the group, moving toward the hatch. She watched as the blue-dressed men moved in ahead of them, vanishing in the opening. Soon they were on the ramp, climbing up toward the opening, the metallic surface scuffing against the soft sole of their sandals. She heard a woman whimper, sobbing quietly as another tried to comfort her. The woman guiding them ignored their agony, walking straight ahead as they followed.

The hatch was rough, the surface appearing old and unmaintained. Laura tried to look inside, but the interior was dimly lit. The ramp faded into the floor of the space that was a rough metallic, the walls made of the identical material. Laura expected pneumatic hatches and sliding doors, laser lights and soft hospital-like lighting. Instead, what she found was very industrial; the space was rough and soot covered. Carved into the walls were symbols that looked vaguely familiar—like hieroglyphics, but instead of cranes and alligators, they were strange creatures.

The passageway narrowed and they were squeezed into two columns of three. The space smelled smoky and oily, like the belly of an ocean vessel. None of it was what she expected of an alien space craft. Finally, they rounded a corner that ended at another rough-cut wall. Laura tried to search for anything useful, but the lights were low and all she found was a space void of any recognizable features. A crunching sound of gears, and the wall began to move up. Lights flickered, casting the space in a dizzying strobe effect.

The robed woman guided them into what appeared to be a large kitchen. They stripped off the soaked cloaks and hung them along a row of hooks evenly spaced high on the wall. Other women in black garbs were already hard at work removing food from pots and setting up plates on shiny metallic trays, some containing bowls, others with pitchers and glasses. The stench made her choke, and she fought back the revulsion.

Laura and the others were again formed into a line standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the kitchen staff. The last of the bowls were filled and the kitchen staff was formed into lines and marched back through the same hatch Laura’s group had just entered.

The robed woman moved in front of them; she turned her head to verify they were alone. “I am Taurine; you now answer to me. You will serve the guides their afternoon meal. You will not speak to them. You will follow any and all instructions. If you violate any of the rules of our order, you will be witnessed.” The woman paused. “Do you understand?” Her voice was calmer and more reassuring than the leathered woman’s.

Laura nodded as the woman panned, examining their faces. “Each day will be better than the next.”

The back wall made a grating sound and slid to the left, revealing an open dining room filled with the humanoid creatures dressed in gold linen. They were seated around long communal tables. Consumed in conversation, they didn’t bother to look up or seem to notice the dingy kitchen filled with servants.

Taurine stepped forward and gently touched Laura’s wrist. “You serve the mélange,” she said, pointing to a tray of glasses. Without waiting for a response, Taurine moved on assigning other responsibilities to the women.

Nervous, Laura bit her lower lip and stepped forward cautiously. She edged to the metallic counter and gripped the tray in both hands. She noticed the glasses had already been filled and the carafe was topped off as well. The tray was heavy so she held it close to her body to stabilize its weight. She turned toward the open dining room and saw some of the seated guides eye her impatiently.

She moved ahead; the room filled with sounds of alien voices, her knowledge plate struggling to keep up while processing several conversations at once, and her head filled with waves of strange conversations that made no sense to her. She stepped lightly alongside a table, her legs feeling heavy and wobbly, the tray rattled in her grasp.

She moved between a pair of seated guides; one reached up without making eye contact and casually grabbed a glass, the one across from her doing the same. She proceeded to move away when the closest guide snarled at her, took the carafe, and placed it in the center of the table then shooed her away with a flick of its wrist. Laura inhaled deeply, trying to calm her nerves and moved on. Looking around, she could see the other women were now all holding trays and making their way around the room.

The fact that the guides seemed to have no interest in them helped her to relax. She tried to not focus on the job of serving and instead take in the sights of the room for anything useful, anything she could use. She strained her eyes, trying to look up and into her mind and silence the storm of voices, tuning in and out of several conversations until one caught her attention.

“The council is not happy with the Messenger’s loss.”

“Do you know who will replace him?”

“No, but when he arrives, the retribution will be delivered. They have chosen to spare the community and instead will hit the outside harshly. It appears the local resistance is not isolated, so the migration here is not going well.”

“How so?”

“The other settlements are far ahead of this one. The council will not tolerate our ineffectiveness and our sustained losses… We have to be ready for exodus…”

“You there!”
a voice echoed loudly in her head.

Laura suddenly realized she had stopped moving and her tray was still resting in her hands while she’d been lost in the voices inside her head.

“Yes, you,” she heard again over the others. Laura glanced down and saw a female face—the same as the one she’d met on her arrival. Scanning the room, she saw they all looked identical in every way, only a scar or birthmark to tell them apart.

Laura began to speak but held her tongue in fear of the warning she’d received. Her hands gripped the tray tightly, and she stared down at her white knuckles, afraid she may have already offended the alien by looking it in the eyes.

“It’s okay, you may speak to me,” the guide said.

Laura looked up again, waiting for a response.

“Has every guest been served?” the guide asked.

Laura again eyed down. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not be sorry, be obedient. Do not stand and wait to be called,” the guide said, shooing her away.

Laura backed away and hurriedly completed her rounds around the table before returning to the kitchen with an empty tray. She set it on the counter then pressed her palms onto the cold metallic surface, listening to her heart beat.

Taurine watched as she put back her head and took deep breaths. The old woman moved by her side. “Why are you in distress? Why do you find it difficult to serve the communal, what is there to fear?” she asked.

Laura felt the presence of the others—the women returning to the kitchens with empty trays of their own. They gathered around her, all looking at Taurine.

“This is not a trick or a difficult question; you may answer it freely,” Taurine said. “I am here to help you with the transition.”

Laura gaped at her confused. “What transition?”

“Is that why you are afraid?” Taurine asked. “Because of the unknowns?”

Laura pursed her lips. “It’s because everything has been taken from me.”

“Everything? Do you not have a daughter? A home? A purpose?” The woman waved her arms, motioning the kitchen. “What more would you need?”

Laura fought to hold back her emotions. “What about my husband?” she said, her voice breaking and a tear forming at the corner of her eye.

“You’ve been assigned a mate; does Francis not suit you?”

Laura gasped and looked away.

Taurine flashed a wicked smile. “Oh, you didn’t know. Well then, maybe
you
are the one that is not being found suitable. I suggest you work on that before you are cast aside. Do you think that would be best for your child?”

The old woman clapped her hands, bringing the other women in close. The door to the dining room slid closed as a new group of women entered the space from behind them. Laura listened as they were given instructions on what their job would be. She leered up and locked eyes with Taurine, who flashed her a vindictive smile.

“You are all dismissed. Your mates will greet you in the passageway,” Taurine said.

Laura stumbled and stepped toward the exit door, her body feeling heavy and out of breath. She moved slowly, falling into the group of women. She wanted to be far away from the vindictive woman who appeared to take pleasure in her agony. She fell into line, following the others through the narrow opening and back into the dimly lit passageway. Just as Taurine had said, she found Francis there waiting for her.

He didn’t speak, turning away once she acknowledged him, knowing that she had no choice but to follow.

Chapter 24

The bunker didn’t spare them from the sounds of the roaring storm outside its walls. The space was cold and dreary; rain seeped under the door, turning the concrete a dark gray. A stream of murky water traced a line between the tired soldiers, making its way to a drain vent located in the center of the small space. The man-made cavern was dimly lit by a single low-watt bulb hanging in the center of the bunker.

Jacob watched Jesse move, happy to see him on his feet. His friend was back; the attack had invigorated him. He stood in the corner over a propane stove warming water for soup. His neck still wore a bandage, and his body bore the wounds from the fight, but he knew the other soldiers expected more from him as a scout, and he was doing his best to put on a show.

Not designed for housing, the bunker was filled to capacity. Along with the two who came in with Jesse, four more had arrived during the night. Survivors and stragglers, men who, when they found the destroyed cabin, knew this was the last refuge in the area. Along the floor, intermixed with bundles of equipment and crates, men sat exhausted. A lone soldier stationed himself at the back, fidgeting with the only working radio, desperate for a signal. All the landlines back to the cabin were dead; an uplink to the radio tower was their only hope.

Jacob pressed against his space of open wall, moving his knees to keep them from the encroaching water. His eyes turned and focused on the prisoner across from him. Its head was still covered in the fabric, its wrists and ankles still bound, and the blue-and-gold-sleeved uniform coated with mud from the trail. Rogers and James were arguing about what to do with it, how and whether or not to interrogate it. The other men listened in anxiously, this being the first live alien they’d managed to capture.

“We need to get that uniform off and get rid of it,” James said. “It could have a tracker embedded in it; they’re probably using it to find us right now.”

Rogers rubbed his forehead wearily. “Seems like they’d already be on us if that was the case.”

James pointed up at the ceiling. “These walls are pretty thick and shielded by the cell company that originally built it. Who knows how much shielding our guys added to it? Probably blocking the signal.” He paused and stared at the alien in deep thought before nodding. “Yeah, it’s got a tracker. Hell, I bet they’re out there right now searching for this one. They must have found her dead friends by now.”

“Really? It’s a
her
now? That’s how this plays out?” Rogers grunted, the hours of movement without resting taking a toll on him. “You never stop, do you?”

“Don’t get all excited, even a boar hog can be a she; it doesn’t mean I’m going to go exchanging phone numbers and asking her to prom.”

Rogers shook his head in frustration and moved back against a bench. “If you’re serious, then have at it. Get the clothes off this thing,” he said, leaning back in surrender.

Jacob sat up. “Why don’t you just ask it first?”

James turned and looked back at him. “Ask?”

“She knows we’ll find out anyhow. I’m sure she’s been listening—”

Rogers sighed and shook his head. “And now here you go with the
she
.”

Jacob ignored the comment and continued. “This is a good test; give it up the easy way or we find it the hard way. Let’s see what she has to say. We need to know what’s going on out there.”

James shrugged, looking over to Rogers. “He’s got a point; why take her alive if we weren’t planning to use her for something?” The leader returned an apathetic shrug in response.

James inched closer to the restrained alien. The creature had not moved since it was dropped to the floor hours earlier. Men along the walls, sensing something was about to happen, adjusted their posture, their full attention now focused on the creature.

James grabbed at the alien’s uniform and yanked it into an upright, seated position, forcing its head away from him. He worked on the knot of fabric at the base of its neck and tugged the satchel from its face.

The alien squinted in the light; its bright blue eyes closed tightly and slowly opened. Jacob saw sadness in the creature’s face. He began to feel pangs of sympathy before he caught himself, remembering what this thing was capable of. He looked around the room and could see the other soldiers were having the same reaction. James reached ahead and pulled away a final strip of fabric that had bound its mouth. Once its lips were free, it swiveled its head smoothly, examining the room and the faces of the strange men.

“Why have you taken me? Where am I?” she asked in a soft voice.

Jacob was amazed that the tone was matter of fact, the English clean and crisp. She showed no signs of fear or displays of emotion. The creature sounded unconcerned, even though its eyes deceived it.

“This is my summer guest house. I want to apologize in advance; the lake house is being renovated, and the housekeeper is home with a sick kid,” James said.

“Guest house?” she asked, puzzled.

Rogers shook his head, not amused. “Just ask.”

James frowned. Using his thumb and index finger, he stroked the heavy beard covering his chin. “Are you wearing a locator?”

Without answering, she gave him a puzzled expression.

“Are you wearing anything that will allow your people to find you?” he said, speaking slow and deliberately.

“Why would I have such a device? No member of the communal is any more valuable than another.”

“So where is it? How do they track you?” James asked.

She looked at him absently. “Why would they track me?”

James cracked his knuckles, letting his eyes examine her uniform, looking for anything distinct. “Well… since you say there is no device, I guess we can cut all of your clothing off and shred it. According to you, I will find nothing and that would prove you are truthful.” He stared at the alien and saw her expression hadn’t changed. “
Or
, we search your clothing and find a device. Then—well, let’s just say it’d be better if I found you trustworthy, and you just gave it to me
now
.”

“I don’t understand your reasoning,” she said.

James reached to his hip and drew a long, custom Ka-Bar.

“I’m just saying it isn’t healthy to be caught in a lie. You sure you ain’t got something on you?”

He leaned in close, slowly turning the blade so the alien could see it from every angle while the light reflected off the sharpened surface. James grabbed the chest of her uniform with his gloved hand and pulled it tight. “Now you’ll have to take it easy on me. I’m not used to undressing ladies this way.” She drew away from him. He stuck the blade close to the fabric and let the razor-sharp knife sink into the material. It cut as easy as silk, quickly splitting with slow movements of the blade.

She lugged back again and turned her head to the side. “Yes, I have such a device.”

“Ah, really? You mind telling me where it is?”

She stretched out her bound arms and looked to her balled up left hand. “It’s in the glove.”

Rogers stood from the bench he was leaning on. “Now hold up; that’s the weaponized hand.” He moved forward so he was in front of her. “Tell us how to safely remove it, or I’ll cut the entire arm off.”

She scowled, turning away from Rogers, not liking his harsh tones. “The glove cannot be removed with my hand like this.”

Losing patience, Jesse stood up and, moving closer, he said, “Let’s just kill this thing and get rid of it.” He stepped close to get a better view. Other men nodded, agreeing with him.

She shook her head, worry now clearly showing in her eyes. “The glove is not a weapon. It is not lethal. Only designed to render obedience.”

“I can think of only one good way to do this.” Rogers reached out violently and grabbed her bound wrists, pulling them tight, and dragging the alien partway across the floor as she whined in protest. Then he brought in his boot and stepped on her forearms, applying so much pressure that Jacob thought her arms might break. She yelped and cried out in pain, having been surprised by the big man’s sudden movements.

“What the hell are you doing?” James said. “Take it easy, boss.”

Rogers turned his head. “Shut up and get it off. Cut it at the elbow.”

“No… take it easy. Let me try first. I can get it off. ” James scrambled, grabbing at the thing’s fingertips. The alien, frightened yet complying, straightened them just enough so that James could slowly roll the glove off of the creature’s hands. All the while, the thing struggled and kicked against Rogers’ boot.

“I got it,” James said, pulling back at the strips of heavy tape before taking the metallic glove tight in his hand.

Rogers stepped away and the alien pulled back, crashing against the wall and bringing its hands up to shield its now tear-covered face.

“Well, look at that… the space lady has feelings,” Rogers said, unaffected.

Jesse stepped closer, pointing at the alien’s face. “Don’t let it fool you, Sarge; it’s a killer. I saw them firsthand.”

“You are the killers,” she gasped.

Ignoring her comment, James laughed as he stretched the glove out and examined it. “Relax guys, we got it off,” he said.

He turned the glove over; in the palm was a diamond-shaped pendant. All the fingers were coated in a type of silicone with embedded circuitry clearly visible. James stretched the glove out and laid it flat on his palm, the entire piece far smaller than his own hand.

“What does it do?”

“It’s of no use to you,” she said.

James grinned and let out a short laugh. “That’s not what I asked. So this is what you used to knock me on my ass; how is it powered?”

“I don’t understand.”

Jacob scooched closer; he reached out for the glove and James obliged by handing it over. He felt the wires and squeezed the pendant between his fingers. “The energy source; what activates the crystal?”

“It is part of my being; the same as how the rifles are part of the Ursus warriors. We all have a role.”

James took the glove back. “Ursus? You mean the big bastards with the red sleeves?”

“I understand your word
bastard
, and this is not correct. The Ursus are brave warriors, bred for war; they come from strong family units.”

James smiled and glanced at the pant legs of his uniform, where he’d wiped his hands earlier. “Well, they bleed like pigs.” James looked her in the eye and saw he got no response from his comment. “How many Ursus will they send for you?” he asked.

She eyed up at him. “I’m not important enough for them to look for me.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Karina, a guide for my people.”

“What were you doing out here?”

“I am a guide; I was searching for survivors so that they could be safely returned to the community.”

“You mean prisoners.” Jacob leaned in. “What have you done with them?”

She shot him a puzzled glance. “We have cared for them, given them food and shelter; they are part of the communal now.”

“You have my family; I want them back.”

“Then you should join them. All are welcome in the communal.”

Answering for Jacob, James scoffed. “My people got a saying, lady… better dead than red!”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t understand this
red
.”

Rogers laughed and said, “Different time, but the same principle applies. We’ll get our people back.”

James nodded and winked at her. “We need a vehicle to get into that camp,” he said before he turned to Rogers still standing over his shoulder. “How many claymore mines do we have left?”

Rogers smiled, knowing the bearded scout’s intentions. “We can spare a couple.”

She glared up at him. “Why would you need mines?”

“I figured we could see if you’re right—that they wouldn’t bother looking for you. I’ll stack the dead out there and this glove right down the throat of a mine.”

Her eyes shifted from the glove and back to the door. “There is no more cause for this violence; if you lay down your weapons it could all stop.”

“Nope. That’s not our way,” Rogers said. “Thought we explained that.”

“You must understand… the war is over. You have lost.”

James shook his head. “I think you’re the one who is not understanding. You all just got here; we weren’t even trying earlier.”

“Your big cities have already fallen, and your armies destroyed or surrendered. Only small pockets of resistance remain, and they will be squashed with the exodus.” Her tone changed from weakness to one of strength.

Rogers stepped over her and looked down. “Bullshit. What is the exodus?”

She smiled, showing perfectly shaped white teeth. “Our people will arrive. What you have seen is only an advanced party meaning to pull out and detect your remaining forces. The exodus will force you to submit and join us, or cease to exist.”

“Why the hell would you tell us this, anyway?” James said arrogantly.

“It is our law. You have captured me rightfully in combat or by submission; I now belong to you,” she said. “Same as your people now in the communal belong to us.”