The Light: The Invasion Trilogy Book 3 (7 page)

Chapter 12

Wind blew through the trees, causing the upper branches to sway, the ends rattling as they touched. The light was fading, the sun’s last rays casting orange slivers through naked trees. She could hear the cries echoing through the forest; other survivors, lost and alone, the same as her. She debated reaching out, searching for them; strength in numbers she thought. They ran through the forest, scattered and afraid. She listened to the rifle fire and the screams all around her. Looking at her pack filled with meager supplies and thinking about the way the others had enviously looked at her rifle, she thought otherwise. She did not know them, or if they could be trusted.

Laura lay hidden in the foliage of a dry creek bed, the vegetation too sparse to completely shelter her. A place where the ground dropped swiftly, the bank created an overhang that she was able to crawl into. A trail ran above her. If she held out, Jacob would return, and he would find them. Laura’s heart still thudded away anxiously in her chest. She pulled the collar of her shirt up over her mouth to cover the sounds of heavy breathing, and to conceal the cloud of condensation that marked her position. Katy’s face was buried in her hip; Laura could feel the warmth of her body pressed against her.

A curtain of roots hung down above her head. She heard the rustling and breaking of branches on the ground above—someone, or something, was stalking the trail. Laura’s back was to the base of roughly packed dirt surface while tall grass and reeds surrounded the space directly to her front. She pushed the pack against the mound of earth so that it sheltered Katy from the wind channeling up the creek bed. As the noise above her grew louder, she cradled the rifle across her lap, allowing the end of the barrel to rest on her knees.

“Mama,” Katy whispered.

Laura dropped a hand to the girl’s head, cupping it, and brought her face down to meet her daughter’s. “We have to be quiet now, okay?”

Trembling, Katy pursed her lips and pressed her face tighter to Laura’s hip, her breathing barely audible. There was a crunching in the dry leaves above, then a whooshing through the air. A creature with long legs crashed into the dry creek bed to her front. The alien form landed hard, yet controlled, with its legs bending to absorb the impact. It darted a step forward then stopped. Its body was humanoid, but it movements were mechanical, not exactly like a machine but more like a freakishly muscled man. The thick-trunked creature twisted at the waist, its bulk shifting to look back behind it, then back up at the elevated position it’d leapt from.

Laura held the rifle, biting down on the inside of her cheek and trying to suppress the urge to shake, scream, or call out. Her right hand squeezed the pistol grip of the M4 carbine, her thumb searching for the selector switch. A series of low beeps and clicks came from the creature’s helmet. It turned its unarmed hand as if looking at a wrist watch then dipped its head, looking down and searching the depression where she hid. Its face mask focused on her, the thing’s gaze traveling from Laura to Katy then back, its head tilting sideways like a curious dog.

She didn’t wait, her thumb dropped the selector a single click and she pulled the trigger. The rifle bucked against her legs. She saw the puffs against the creature’s chest, and the blue fabric tearing where rounds punched through its shirt. The thing dropped a step back. Laura imagined the look of surprise that must be on its face below the shielded helmet. Its right arm holding the weapon dropped and went slack; its left hand lay flat against its stomach then slowly slid up until it covered the already bleeding wounds. It staggered another half-step back before collapsing into the sand- and gravel-covered creek bed.

Laura tried to conceal her fear. She looked down and could see Katy shaking beside her, and the young girl’s face contorted as she fought back tears. More footfalls landed heavily in the brush on the trail above her. She froze, looking down at the rifle still in her hands. She knew she couldn’t fight them all; hiding would be the only way. Maybe if she dropped the weapon they would spare her. These weren’t the same mindless monsters that came with the first meteor shower. The creature she just killed had hesitated as though it saw something that delayed it from killing her.

She had to try; she shoved the rifle into the thick leaves beside her and drug brush over their laps, lying back, hoping to hide. The ground shook as more of the creatures dropped in from above, crashing to the creek bed around the fallen alien. Laura opened her eyes, unable to resist the urge to look. She saw four of them; three the same as the one she killed, tall and broad-shouldered, but the fourth was smaller, more slender. The fourth wore gold stripes on its sleeves and moved in a smooth manner. Where the large beast lumbered, this one seemed to dance with graceful motions.

Laura couldn’t take her eyes from the slender creature. She watched as the group examined its dead then turned to face her. The smaller figure stepped forward and stretched out a closed hand in her direction. Its golden-gloved fist opened slowly, revealing a thumb and six fingers; in its palm was a metallic disc. Laura watched as the disc blinked then flashed a blinding strobe. Instantly her body went numb. Paralyzed, she couldn’t move. She attempted to fight it and desperately tried to reach for Katy to shield her, but her muscles wouldn’t respond.

Her eyes shot straight ahead, unable to blink, unable to change focus. The slender alien turned to face the others, the clicks and beeps filling the air. The large creatures moved forward on stiff joints, lumbering toward her. One reached down, holding a golden bowl that he placed on the top of her head. Laura’s muscles tensed at the same time her body flung into a spread eagle position. She felt distant, her mind a passenger in her body.

The clicks were gone, and then she heard a soft voice—not in her ears, but directly transmitted into her thoughts. “Keep the female with its cub. Deliver them to element six.”

She struggled to turn to search for Katy. The slender creature approached her and knelt over her form. “There is no need to resist; you and your cub are safe now.” The slender one put its hand to Laura’s head and the world went dark.

Chapter 13

Crunched against debris at the side of the blockhouse, his shoulder and side speckled with burns, Jesse tried to push up to stand next to them. Gritting through the pain, he looked up at Jacob. “They’re alive. She wasn’t on the helicopter. She left with the others,” he said.

“Which way did they go?”

Jesse clenched his eyes closed tight; Jacob could see that the man was fighting the pain. He opened them again and strained the muscles in his neck, attempting to get up. James removed a canteen from a carrier on his belt and opened it, allowing the wounded man to drink. Jesse gulped thirstily and paused. “We followed the trail, up toward the small cabins. I sent her north.”

“Alone?” Jacob gasped.

Jesse dipped his chin and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jacob. We tried to fight them back, but they outflanked us. They were on all sides. They got behind us; we pushed back this way but… those things went after them. They fought through us and went after the civilians.”

Movement in the brush behind them revealed two men creeping out of the woods and into the clearing. A soldier dressed in a soiled uniform, a young man in civilian clothes beside him. The soldier carried a rifle loosely in his arms. The other man had burns to his face and neck. The armed man spotted them and rushed in their direction, dragging the wounded man with him. As they approached them, the wounded man collapsed to the ground, exhausted. The soldier squatted by his side. He looked up at Jacob, and the others then searched the surrounding field.

“Where’s Masterson?” the soldier gasped between labored breaths. “Where the hell is Clem?”

James shook his head, taking the canteen from Jesse and passing it to the new arrivals. “He’s not coming. Can you tell me what happened here?”

“Fuck,” the soldier gasped, dropping to the ground on both knees. “He’s not coming? What do you mean he’s not com—?”

Jacob edged toward him, interrupting. “Where are the civilians, the other survivors?”

The wounded man pulled himself together and sat up. He put his hands on his face and rubbed away dirt and grime from his forehead. He looked at Jacob intently. “I know you; you’re the one with the little girl.”

“Yes,” Jacob said eagerly. “Where are they?”

The man looked down at the ground then met Jacob’s stare. “I’m sorry. Those things—just so fast, they—they took them.” The man closed his eyes tight and looked away.

“Where are they? I have to know.”

The man swallowed hard and pointed in the direction of the cottages. “I barely got away myself.”

Jacob got to his feet and faced the trail. Stepping off, he moved out alone. James and Rogers were quickly up and following him. Rogers turned back and pointed to Jesse struggling to his feet. “Salvage what you can from here then take this one and get to the bunker at the end of the trail—”

“By the radio tower,” the soldier answered.

“That’s the place. Now go.”

Jacob moved on, walking the center of the trail. He noticed the others following him and looked back. “You don’t have to do this; I understand the odds,” he said, his voice breaking.

James increased his pace. Not answering, he moved past Jacob, taking the point position and moving down the trail filled with nightmarish scenes. “We’ll find them,” he said, ignoring the obvious all around him.

Bodies were strewn along the trail, many of them scorched by the blue flames; open wounds cauterized by the heat of the plasma weapons. Smoke was billowing through the woods, mixed with the smell of burning plastics and building materials. Fires raged all around them. Ahead, Jacob could see the one-room cottages fully engulfed, the orange flames lighting the forest floor. He moved past them, feeling the heat of the fires, stepping over the bodies of fallen soldiers and civilians, checking each as he passed.

He stopped and looked down at the ground. The packed dirt of the trail was broken and disturbed. He knelt and fumbled with the loose soil. Duke was at his side, whimpering and sniffing at the ground.

James pointed off the trail. “The branches are broken, the grass bent against the others… they left the trail here,” he said. James swiveled his head, giving a worried glance back at the flames. “We’ll need to hurry.”

The bearded scout broke the trail, stepping into the pucker brush, his hand pointing to the signs of a cut trail. He nearly stumbled over the body of a young man in civilian clothes, the back of the man burnt down to his exposed ribcage. James stepped to the side and pointed; without saying, the others knew they were on the right path. Coming out of the thick cover, Duke ran ahead and sat on another trail, this one far narrower and led along a dry creek bed. The dog moved ahead, leading the way with the others close behind.

The forest was suddenly quiet, only the roaring of the fire and the crackling of burning trees making any sounds. The light had faded; if not for the eerie back glow of the burning forest, it would have been too dark to see each other. James put down a palm, slowing the others and bringing them in close before pointing down at sets of odd boot prints on the trail. Large and oval shaped, they pressed deeply into the soil and looked to be composed of hundreds of tiny spikes. James stepped off, leading them on before pausing again.

Duke was ahead on the trail, pacing anxiously and whining as he moved on and off the trail to show the way. James cautiously followed along beside the animal and made his way to a steep drop-off. He weaved left and navigated his way off the trail with the others close behind. James stopped in a gravel depression and touched his gloved hand to the soil. When he raised it, it was covered with sticky blood. He then waved his hand along the sand and gravel bed, covered with more of the odd boot prints nearly lost on the loose soil. “A group of them stopped here; one didn’t leave vertical,” he said, sticking a gloved finger into a puddle of blood.

Jacob followed him into the creek bed, the despair building in his body, fearing what he may find. He spun, looking at the boot prints and the blood on the sand. A lingering fear began building in his stomach. He stopped and was caught by a sudden flash of color, bright nylon fabric against the bank. He rushed ahead and found Laura’s backpack, her rifle and a spent shell casing on the ground beside it. Jacob took a step forward and dropped to his knees, pulling the backpack to his chest.

“Jacob, over here,” Rogers called, following Duke over a rise on the far side of the creek.

A bare foot exposed from the surrounding grass. Jacob moved closer, climbing the rise and finding a scene of burnt and discarded bodies scattered among the small clearing. “My God, they killed them… all of them,” he gasped.

Rogers shook his head in disagreement as he bent over and lifted a stuffed bear. “No, only the men,” he said, indicating the bodies. “Check them for yourself. All the women and children are gone, and all their belongings are left where they were dropped. They were taken, Jacob.”

Chapter 14

The television was too loud. Tin echoes recalling the previous day’s news, traffic, and highlights of the weather. She had fallen asleep in front of the TV. Jacob would be home soon, she should get up. She squinted. Bright sunlight from an open window; she forgot to close the blinds last night. Somewhere in her subconscious she smelled wood smoke, distant but alarming. A tiny voice in the back of her mind began to scream
something is wrong
, pulling her into the present.

“Mommy.”

Laura rubbed her face and jerked her head to the side. Prying open tired eyes, she looked into an unfamiliar space. Shocked awake, her now conscious brain struggled to move into this new place. She was not home. She was lying on an overstuffed sofa, covered with an afghan blanket. The room was a cliché 1960s theme—pastel walls, shag carpet, a wood-paneled console television along a wall, playing a black-and-white image with a looped broadcast. There were family photos on the wall, filled with people that she didn’t recognize.

“Mommy,” Katy said, shaking her arm.

Laura pulled her in, suddenly remembering her last thoughts when she was hiding in the woods, trying to keep Katy safe. But now Katy was here and she was clean, wearing a yellow cotton gown. Her hair was soft, washed and tied back, a concave bowl attached to the top of her head. Remembering, Laura’s hand swung up, checking her own head; she wore the same device. She noticed she was also dressed in the same yellow clothing. “Katy… where—?”

“You were sleeping, Momma. The people gave us food,” she said.

Laura pushed herself up, feeling disoriented and struggling to recall the gaps in her memory. In the corner of the room was a small dining table; on the top was a brown tray with cut sandwiches and stainless steel cups. “Did you eat it?” she said, tension building in her voice. “Who put it there?”

A hissing sound, the clunk of a lock, and the door swung in. A backlit figure stood in the opening and lurched a cautious step forward. “The consumables are safe; we have no reason to poison you.”

The voice was soft and familiar; it appeared in her thoughts rather than her ears. Katy was on her feet before Laura could stop her. She moved past the being and climbed to the table, grabbing a sandwich. She took a bite and looked back at her mother, smiling.

Dressed head to toe in baby-blue linens that reminded Laura of hospital smocks, the creature slid another step toward her, and the heavy door swung closed behind it. Feminine features, tanned skin, petite and slender, it was smaller than any woman Laura had ever met. The thing’s head was free of hair, its face perfectly shaped like a store mannequin. Its lips moved when it spoke in a foreign tongue, but Laura was somehow able to comprehend the words. “Are you comfortable?”

With graceful movements, the creature moved closer. It looked at Laura and blinked its piercing blue eyes. Passing through the room, it sat gently on a chair across from her and smiled with perfect rose-tinted lips.

Laura looked away, repulsed; her head spinning.

“Don’t be alarmed; it’s your knowledge plate. The discomfort will soon pass as your system adjusts,” the alien said.

Laura’s eyes focused on Katy at the table. Again she went to speak, but the creature stopped her with an uplifted six-fingered hand. Laura’s gaze found the table where a notepad and pen lay just in front of her.

“The food is safe. It meets all of your nutritional needs,” the alien said.

“Why am I here? What do you want with us?” Laura sat up. Leaning forward, she let her hand pass over the notepad and palmed the pen. She pulled it into her grip and slipped her hand to her thigh.

“Why are
you
here?” the thing responded in turn.

“I don’t understand; you brought me here.”

“Then you concede that we were here first?” The thing nodded and crossed its hands into its lap. “Understanding will be the key to our partnership.”

Laura shifted in position. Sitting up further, she looked the alien in the eye, squeezing the pen in her grip, emboldened by the firmness of it. “Partnership? Who are you?”

“I am Thera, your guide.”

“What do you want?”

“I am but one of many. I don’t want anything.”

Laura, not waiting any longer, lunged at the creature, arms outstretched, stabbing down with the tip of the pen. It did no good. Before she cleared half the distance, the alien shifted to the side smoothly and opened its hand, freezing her. She fell back into the cushions. Her legs still bent, she tilted to the side awkwardly, her eyes now fixed on the ceiling.

“Your knowledge plate gives away your intentions. You have shown strong restraint characteristics, Mrs. Laura Anderson; your peers were not so cordial in our first meeting.” The alien paced across the room to the exit and turned the knob. The creature looked back to Laura and flashed six fingers. Laura felt immediate relief, the feeling returning to her muscles, her heart rapidly beating in her chest.

“When you have rested, we will have more to discuss.”

Laura’s head panned to Katy, who was still sitting at the table, unaware of the tension in the room. The door opened and two men entered, both dressed in dark-blue coveralls. The taller of the two carried a clipboard and a bundle of folded, yellow clothing. The shorter man stepped forward, smiling. He wore a close-cropped beard, the rest of his head nearly bald. She noticed that both men were wearing the gold discs on their heads. The tall man waved to Katy as he passed the alien that was leaving the room, the door closing behind it.

“Mrs. Anderson?” the short man said in a thick French accent. “It is good to see you awake. Are you finding everything you need?”

Laura stretched her back, numbness fading as blood rushed to her muscles. Her hand moved up to squeeze the pained muscles in her neck. She pushed forward and quickly got to her feet, edging away from the visitors and standing between them and Katy. “Who are you?”

The shorter man smiled and dropped his hands, showing palms in a submissive stance. “My name is Francis; this is Ernesto. We’re friends; you have nothing to fear from us.”

“Am I… am I a prisoner?” Laura asked, her head spinning in confusion.

The men laughed patronizingly. “No, of course not; no more than we are. You’ve been rescued.” The man focused on Laura’s shocked expression. “Does this look like a prison? You’re safe now.”

Laura stepped back and allowed herself time to survey the space. She noticed a covered window on the far wall. The short man caught her gaze and followed it. He waved a hand toward the thick drapes. “Yes, it’s okay,” he said. “Please, have a look.”

Laura backed away then slowly stepped to the wall, casting a wide berth around the two strangers. She put her fingertips to the heavy drapes and pulled back the fabric.

Bright sunlight bled into the room as she peeled back the curtain. Laura moved and pressed against the glass. She was in a house at the end of a cul-de-sac. In front was a lawn of thick uncut grass and a car in the driveway on flat tires. Along the blacktop surface sat a row of cookie-cutter homes, garbage stacked along the curbs. Beyond them, she could see a tall fence. It didn’t look natural, its material smooth and out of place; not metallic, but not wood or stone either. “We have some work to do, but this community will do nicely. We have full support from the Creators.”

Pressing close, in the distance she could see people walking the tree-lined street—all women and children. More of the figures in gold sleeves wandered among them, all being watched over by the large, more stout creatures. She was in a community, but she didn’t recognize any of it. She looked back at the men. “What is this place?”

“It’s a start.”