The Light: The Invasion Trilogy Book 3 (6 page)

Chapter 10

Laura pulled the straps tight on the nylon backpack. “I think we have everything. Now we just wait for Daddy to get back,” she said, smiling down at her daughter beside her.

“And Duke,” the girl replied.

“Yes, and Duke.” Laura laughed, pulling Katy in for a hug. She hoisted the pack to her shoulders and gripped the M4 rifle in her left hand. Looking down at Katy, the girl grinned and reached up to her. She gripped Katy’s hand and walked through the cramped space of the block house and out into the cool morning air.

Laura had never visited a place like this before. Some stops at manicured, resort camp grounds, where they would rent a well-furnished condo on the lake shore, maybe a night in a friend’s beach house, but nothing as sparse as this. Camping was Jacob’s thing, a sentimental connection to his father, reminders of fishing trips they took together when he was a boy. Jacob tried to pass the same lessons on to Katy. “No daughter of mine will have to depend on a man to bait her hook,” he used to joke.

She moved into the sunlight and watched the soldiers actively prepping the helicopter. The old man in the cowboy hat was fussing with them as they loosened ropes and readied equipment. Other people, refugees who came in with the soldiers, were sitting impatiently waiting; some argued with the soldiers and pointed at them accusingly.

The news of their departure to a possible safe area at first caused excitement, but when rumors spread that there wouldn’t be enough room for everyone on the first flight, fights and heated discussions broke out. Everyone became suspicious of how the lucky passengers would be picked. Families of the soldiers, then women and children seemed the obvious choice, but families didn’t want to be separated. And there wouldn’t be seats for everyone.

A soldier with a notepad looked directly at Laura; he’d already stopped to talk to her earlier that morning. “Ma’am, I really think you and the little one should be on the first flight. As Sergeant Anderson’s family, you have priority.” A year ago, Laura would have never thought of speaking to a soldier—or even meeting one for that matter. Growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, the closest she ever got to the military was a local parade, or a patriotic TV commercial. Now, they came to her like she was part of the family, each of the soldiers feeling a responsibility to look after her.

Laura looked past him to the others—the refugees that stared at her suspiciously. They eyeballed her rifle, her backpack, even her boots. She knew they had nothing; they’d left everything behind, and she could easily be in the same position if things played out differently. She looked up at the soldier and shook her head no. “We won’t leave until my husband returns,” she said.

A man she recognized, husky with a bloodied bandage still clinging to his neck, moved past the others and stepped between her and the soldier. He frowned and leaned in close. “Ma’am, please, we heard gunfire down the road.” Jesse paused and lowered his voice so the others couldn’t hear. “There might not be a second flight. I owe it to Jacob to make sure you get on board.”

“Not without my husband.”

Gunshots echoed in the distance, causing them to look off to the east. Jesse dropped his gaze, not making eye contact while he spoke in a hushed tone. “Okay, but I have… well, I feel I have a responsibility to tell you… if they come… Mrs. Anderson, we won’t be able to stop them.”

Laura gave him a reassuring smile and put a hand on his forearm. “It’s okay, Jesse. Let one of them have our spot. We’ll be fine.”

She led Katy away to a quiet spot farther from the helicopters and the soldiers. She set her pack on the ground and sat atop it while Katy kicked at the leaves and tossed small pine cones. Laura watched the soldiers selecting a young woman holding an infant from the group. The woman looked in Laura’s direction and waved as she was led to the waiting helicopter. Katy stood close to her mother’s side and returned the woman’s wave.

“Momma, look, the baby is going on a helicopter,” she said.

Laura pursed her lips and nodded, already feeling a tear form in the corner of her eye, wondering if she was making the wrong decision. She watched the soldiers make a final pass around the helicopter. They gave the old man a thumbs up then stepped away. The man removed his hat and moved into the Blackhawk. The turbine whined and the blades began to rotate.

The spinning of the blades increased; Laura leaned over, pulling Katy in to shield her from the wind. Soldiers moved around her, gathering in a cluster as debris began to blow, the Blackhawk fighting against gravity to leave the ground. The helicopter slowly lifted away, the tree tops swaying away from the blast of its rotors. Shielding the wind away with her hand, Laura looked up. She watched as the aircraft’s nose dipped and, gaining altitude, slowly moved away.

Her stomach dropped, and her muscles constricted. Four thick bolts of blue arced up from nowhere. Time slowed as she watched them drift through the sky. The pilot must have spotted them; the helicopter banked hard to its right, dipping precariously close to the treetops. Three of the bolts arced high, missing it; the Blackhawk’s nose dipped and the aircraft rotated clockwise before thrusting forward in the opposite direction. The third bolt scraped across the tail-rotor, launching the helicopter into a violent spin. The Blackhawk’s turbines screamed for power as the pilot struggled for control.

Laura wanted to look away, but her eyes were glued to the sight. The helicopter tipped back, nearly inverted, before falling to the far end of the grassy field in a ball of orange and yellow flame. The force of the explosion and the heat from the burning fuel pulled her back, Katy still tight in her arms. She tumbled back, landing heavily in the thick grass.

Before she could open her eyes to recover, a soldier with stripes on his helmet was beside her, lifting her back to her feet. Finally her head cleared, and she heard yelling. Men were running among the scattered group, trying to direct the fight. “Get back, get back. Get the civilians to the woods, everyone else form on me,” she heard the man with the stripes order.

The pack was gone. Katy, clinging to Laura’s chest and arms locked around her neck, began to cry. Laura tried to lift her arms, realizing she was still holding the rifle in her left hand. Jesse swooped up her nylon backpack and steadied her. “Please, ma’am, we need to go,” Jesse shouted, ushering her ahead.

Still stunned, she stepped back, Katy’s screams clouding her thoughts. She stumbled for balance. The surrounding soldiers’ weapons were firing, and the refugees screaming—some running to the block house; others aimlessly into the woods. Blue streaks of light raced across the field to her front.

“Ma’am,” Jesse yelled, his face now inches from hers.

Laura swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay, let’s go,” she said in a dazed expression. Not afraid, she wondered,
Is this what shock feels like?

Jesse forced a smile and led her forward. A bright flash of blue turned Laura’s head in time to see a running man’s body engulfed in a splash of blue. It looked like he’d been swallowed by illuminated jellyfish.
How beautiful,
Laura thought for a split second before the man’s body was again revealed, nearly naked and stripped to the bone by the blue blaze.

“Oh shit,” a crouched soldier shouted, looking down at the maimed man. He raised his rifle and fired at unseen targets to Laura’s rear. She pushed forward, adrenaline spiking her senses, heart beating frantically, and Katy’s tight grip around her neck. With clarity came the fear—she was now eager to escape. She ran the trail, struggling to keep up with the retreating soldiers and civilians ahead of her. They rounded a corner near a row of tiny cabins. Jesse stopped her with a tug at her elbow and pointed deeper into the woods to the north. Civilians ahead of her continued down the trail, others rushed through the thick vegetation in the direction Jesse indicated.

“Keep going, and don’t stop. We’ll hold them here,” Jesse said.

“Where do I go?”

“Just run. Run until you can’t hear the fighting, and then hide.”

Laura hesitated, gunfire thundering in the distance. She pleaded with Jesse to go with her, to show her the way. He gave her a knowing nod and strapped the nylon backpack to her shoulders. He snatched her rifle and checked the action before placing it back into Laura’s hands. “Go, stay quiet, and hide. We’ll find you—Jacob will find you,” he said solemnly, turning away. She went to follow in his direction when a blue bolt of energy splashed against one of the small cabins. The roughhewn pine boards were quickly swallowed in flame.

She looked back and saw that he’d been hit. The thigh of his uniform now scorched and blackened, somehow the big man managed to stay on his feet. He fired his rifle directly into the advancing enemy, not stopping until the bolt locked back. He shot her a scornful look as he reloaded. “Go,” he yelled. “Get the hell out of here.”

Katy screamed into her neck as she turned and followed the others into the trees.

Chapter 11

A distant groan of fire and earth rolled through the forest, the trembling ground forcing the soldiers of the beleaguered patrol to huddle together, their stomachs gripped tightly with fear. Looking in the direction of the camp, watching as the tiny pillar of black smoke was joined by a ball of orange flame and roiling black smoke, Jacob froze. His heart stopped as the men in Jacob’s company lost any momentum they thought they’d earned from the helicopter attack.

“No, it can’t be,” he whispered.

Clem burst from the tree line, his oilskin coat now smeared with blood. He looked to the fight in the distance then back to the men, shoving them out of the clearing in the road and toward the cover of the forest. “Keep moving, get into the thick of it, we can lose them in the back country,” he shouted. “We move south, away from it all.”

Jacob stumbled back from the paralyzing fear. Looking over his shoulder at the older man who was still shouting orders, Jacob thought he caught a glimpse of a smile on the man’s face—an eagerness for the man to be in charge, to take command, like he’d found his opportunity.

“We can’t. We have to get back for my family… for the others… there could be survivors,” Jacob said.

Men were already moving into the woods, vanishing in the thick trees like they’d been instructed. Masterson rushed ahead, passing a cluster of men and closed the distance, stepping between Jacob and the older man. “Clem, I appreciate your help, but you’re not in charge here.”

“Fuck who’s in charge. I’m just trying to keep you lot alive. Soon, everyone at that campsite will be dead, and whatever is there will come back at us. Then we’ll be sandwiched between them and the things just over the hill we’re already running from.”

Rogers stepped up next to James and cleared his throat. He spat on the ground near Clem’s boot. “You leave those people to die back there, and you’ll be running from me also.” Rogers stood up straight, adjusting his rifle, while James fell in behind him.

Clem slowly panned down, laughing, looking at the wet spot on the pavement before looking up to shoot a sadistic grin at the bearded scout.

“Nobody cares about them. Right now it’s about survival, and if they don’t have the means, well, then we can’t go sacrificing ourselves for them.”

Rogers clenched his jaw and nudged a step forward. Clem let a hand drift from his hip to rest on the grip of a holstered sidearm. Turning to face Rogers, he squared his shoulders and stepped a half pace forward, inviting the threat. “Master Sergeant, I suggest you get your people un-fucked,” he said without looking away.

The muscles in Jacob’s neck tightened; his eyes locked on Clem’s hand wrapped around the butt of the pistol. Instinctively, he pulled his own rifle closer. Distant combat echoed behind them, rattling through the trees, reminding them of the people dying at the camp.

Rogers shook his head slowly and his expression hardened before turning toward James, ignoring the others. “Let’s go—lead us out. Jacob, keep that rifle up and ready; you kill anything that isn’t us.”

“What about them?” James asked, dipping his head at Clem as if he were an object rather than a person.

“Let them run if they like; it’s not our job,” Rogers said.

“You’re all going to die. There aren’t enough of you to make a difference,” Clem shouted.

Jacob turned away to follow his leader; he met eyes with Masterson, who slightly dipped his chin before looking at Rogers. “Get to your people, then meet us at Emmerson’s Ridge. Do you know it?” Masterson said.

“I do,” Rogers answered, stepping off into the destroyed convoy advancing in the direction of the camp.

***

They ran directly at the fighting, sacrificing caution for speed. Moving out of the narrow hills and onto an expanse of flat ground, James guided them to the shoulder of the paved road, Duke trotting by his side. The closer they got, the more Jacob could hear the sounds of screaming people, the noise fueling his adrenaline and blocking out the signals from his tired muscles begging him to quit.

At the cutoff where the paved surface of the road met the gravel, they spotted the first of them—a cloaked vehicle, its surface reflecting the same liquid sheen they’d seen in the valley. With no time to hide and without warning, a red turret materialized from atop the mirrored shell and rotated in their direction. A bright flash burst out, and Jacob gasped for breath as a blue beam raced above his head, the oxygen in the air feeding whatever energy the projectile consumed. Jacob felt the heat on his neck, and the screech of the shot screamed at his ears.

He was bumped hard and knocked off course as Rogers moved him from the road and into the concealment of the trees. James’ rifle barked somewhere ahead of them, single shots in rapid succession. “Contact left!” he shouted before firing another salvo.

Rogers stopped abruptly and dropped next to a tree, bringing up his own rifle. Jacob followed his movements, doing the same and dropping in line. Rogers’ weapon joined the fight while Jacob spotted a target of his own—a broad-shouldered creature dressed in blue, the red stripes seeming to illuminate the sleeves of its arms. Covered by a wide, glossy helmet, the creature’s head swiveled. The helmet turned, and a dark tinted screen locked in Jacob’s direction.

The creature seemed to lean back slightly, surprised by his presence; its weapon rose to its shoulder and leveled out. Jacob was faster and already on target. He applied pressure to the trigger, feeling the buck of his rifle. The creature lurched back then spun, collapsing to the ground. James was back on his feet, running toward the camp as he shouted over Duke’s barking for them to move up. Jacob could see the woods ahead flashing with the bright blue lights of the alien weapons, the report of the friendly rifles’ resistance fading.

Without consideration for their own safety, they rushed on, already committed and ready to put themselves in harm’s way to shield the civilian withdrawal. Jacob exited the trees and dropped into the clearing of the athletic field. They had egressed at the center of the longest edge of the field. Rogers and James close to him, they were in a perfect flanking position.

Jacob could see the blockhouse far to his right, the structure now engulfed in blue flames. He searched a mass of friendlies just in front of the blockhouse, some fleeing while the wounded on the ground were making a final stand. He couldn’t find Laura anywhere. The burning wreckage of the Blackhawk was on the opposite end of the field just inside a copse of trees—he prayed his family wasn’t there. James moved close to him and grabbed his shoulder, taking his eyes from the burning wreckage of the helicopter and back to their immediate front.

“We’ll look for them later… now, we fight,” James said.

Jacob saw the creatures moving forward, firing at the wounded men on the ground. His anger blocked any recollection of fear. The aliens were close, less than fifty meters, and lined up in a makeshift skirmish line. Formed up like an opposing football team, this was a clean-up crew, organized to finish those left in the fight. Marching ahead, they approached the blockhouse, weapons up and firing rapidly at anything to their front, the blue beams exploding and engulfing on contact, knocking the fleeing soldiers and civilians to the ground.

Watching the carnage, James snarled, “We have to stop this! This isn’t an attack… this is a massacre.”

Still in the aliens’ blind spot, the bearded man raised his rifle and snapped off three quick shots, took a deep breath, and fired again, laying down a base of fire into the blind profiles of the lined up creatures. The nearest alien crumpled; the others in the line, still preoccupied with the targets to their front, were oblivious to the attack on their flank. Jacob dropped to a knee and opened fire determinedly. Selecting targets of his own, he locked on center mass of each creature and watched them tumble with the impact of his rounds.

The remaining aliens turned, suddenly aware of the threat at their flank. At less than fifty meters away, they lunged, bringing their weapons up as they advanced. The Assassins were ready and already stable in their firing positions. Jacob was on his feet. Stepping into the field, he stayed on the trigger, shoulder firing his M14 until the bolt of his rifle locked back. Jacob watched as his rounds cut through the creature’s shirt, others smacking against its helmet and visor. Whatever armor the things wore, it was useless against Jacob’s weapon.

The creatures were down, the gunfire ceased, and the Assassins found themselves alone now in the field, surrounded by the dead. James moved to one of the dead and kicked a heavy metallic rifle away from its gloved hand. He drew his knife and stood by the body encased in the blue suit. At over seven feet, the thing was taller than a human, its chest wide and shoulders at least double that of the largest man Jacob had ever seen.

“Looks like they skip leg day,” James said, moving closer. He pointed at the creature’s lower body, which appeared scrawny in comparison to the barrel chest.

“What are you doing?” Jacob asked.

Behind them, the fire around the downed chopper grew, the dry grass of the field and nearby woods now in flames. Rogers pointed in the direction of the helicopter. “We can’t hang out here, the woods are going up,” he shouted.

“I want to see what they look like,” James said.

“What?”

“These things… I want to see their faces.”

Rogers moved close and looked past them, posting himself at a standing watch. Unable to hold his own curiosity, he nodded the okay. “Hurry up then; get it done.”

The bearded soldier probed and tugged at the corpse’s armor. Duke paced back and forth restlessly, the scent of the beings still close in the air. Looking for a zipper or a way into the uniform, James rolled the thing over. He slunk back and looked down at his hands, now covered in bright red blood. “Well, they certainly bleed like us,” he said.

“Well, they ain’t us, so don’t go getting attached,” Rogers scorned, showing his impatience.

James found a locking fastener at the back of the creature’s neck. With some struggle, he was able to break its grip. As he pulled down on the fastener, the fabric relaxed and loosened over the body. Soon it was so loose it draped off of the thing’s shoulder blades, revealing a dull gray flesh covered in thick scales. When James went to touch the skin, the creature tried to rise, its back suddenly convulsing. Dropping down with force, James pressed a knee between the thing’s shoulder blades and pinned it to the ground, listening to the alien wheeze its last breath.

He let off the pressure and rolled it to its back. The suit’s grip released the helmet, allowing it to be easily lifted out of place from a locking collar and revealing a humanoid head. All the features of a human, its head was bald, the expressionless face showing evenly spaced eyes below perfect eyebrows, its lips thin and pressed tightly together.

“What the fuck? He looks just like us,” Jacob gasped.

James pressed a finger into a hole just below the thing’s collar bone. “Well, they weren’t prepared for projectile weapons. If I had to take a guess, this blue suit works great against their ray guns.”

“Energy weapons,” Jacob added, reaching down to recover and examine the creature’s rifle. It was simple in design from his engineer’s vantage—a long cylinder that fit over the wearer’s forearm and a lever mechanism fired the bolt. A series of red and blue lights shone brightly at the base, probably displaying the charge or weapon’s strength. “It makes sense not to use projectiles—not having to replace a bullet—these things are probably rechargeable.”

Looking down, Rogers shook his head. “So our body armor is useless against this blue shit. And their suits don’t work against our rifles.”

“Perfect matchup,” James said sarcastically.

A low moan near the burning block house alerted them. Before Jacob could turn, Duke bounded through the field toward its source. His bark was different, more of a high pitched whine. He whimpered and stopped at a form near the building’s porch, the dog’s tail wagging frantically as he circled the figure. The men rushed ahead, finding a crumpled man struggling to stand. When he turned to face them, Jacob saw the bloodied bandage on the man’s neck and the mournful face of Jesse Winslow.