Mabe (Earth Resistance Book 5)

by Theresa Beachman

  Mabe

  Theresa Beachman

  Copyright © 2020 by Theresa Houseman

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  8th pm September 2020

  Created with Vellum

  Author’s note

  This book contains mature themes and language and is only suitable for 18 years and over.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Also by Theresa Beachman

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  1

  Sarah North rubbed her gritty eyes with the heel of her hand as if the motion could scrub away the image of the alien hive.

  “God, today of all days.” Prickly branches scratched at her side and tiny spiders swung trapeze on the corners of her vision. One spun above the blousy purple bloom of a nearby plant. Sarah eyed the flower. Carnivorous and alien, its petals trembled with anticipation. No lunch for you today. Sarah caught the spider on her fingertip and moved it out of harm’s way.

  “Do you think it looks safe enough to get closer?” Zoe Wick, her companion, was buried in straggly gorse. She was propped up on her elbows, her short legs stretched out behind her. The dried mud smeared on her face as camouflage was flaking. It had been a long time since she looked like the elegant stiletto-heeled psychiatrist she’d been before the alien invasion. Battered binoculars hung loose around her neck.

  “Probably not. But then that applies to everything these days.” Sarah swiped her stinging eyes. A good night’s sleep had evaded her for months and now her brain felt like Zoe’s muddy face, crumbling around the edges, the nightmares that plagued her after midnight bleeding into her waking thoughts. She raised her binoculars again and twisted the zoom to bring the Chittrix hive into sharp focus, ignoring the roll of nausea low in her belly. The enormous edifice glinted in the last of the evening light, back-lit against the devastation of Cardiff, its walls crawling with an incessant motion that made her skin itch.

  Insectoid Chittrix cleaned the hive, a mass exodus, working their ragged jaws across the smooth surface, their black tongues lashing it free of accumulated grime and dust, their barbed forelegs swiping the external walls to a subdued gleam.

  Sarah clenched her jaw. “Why did they have to pick today to clean house?” Normally there were flying patrols and guards at the exits, but not chaos like this. At the base of the hive, she could see the thick purple vines of the plant she needed to harvest.

  “Going down there is suicidal.” Frustration soured Zoe’s voice, but Sarah wasn’t ready to give up yet. There was too much on the line no matter the risk; too many lives had been lost to get to this point. And some of those lives had been her responsibility. She swallowed bile. She couldn’t bring people back, but she could ensure they hadn’t died in vain.

  She scanned the hive’s apex where Chittrix congregated in a dense, seething mass. Above the crawling swarm, more swooped in an ever-circling rotation that gave the impression of an organic ship hovering low in the sky. Except the Chittrix hadn’t arrived on a ship, they’d fallen to Earth on meteors.

  Zoe pressed her binoculars to her face. “They’ve got those parcels again.”

  Chittrix descended from the flying melee with a series of long shapes they shunted into openings high on the hive walls.

  “I see them. They’re human sized.” Sarah bit her lip. They were human shaped too, bound in some kind of opaque webbing reminiscent of the silk used by spiders to bind their prey. Chittrix using humans for food. Where was a stiff drink when you needed one?

  Zoe’s tone was grim. “We definitely should give collection a miss today.”

  Sarah grunted and rolled into a crouch in a creak of leather, her pulse rifle snug against her frame. “We don’t have the luxury of waiting for tomorrow.”

  Zoe pursed her lips and shot her a disapproving look. “Yeah, but we don’t want to end up dead.”

  “Either way, we’re going to die if we can’t make some kind of difference. Look at us.” Sarah extended her scrawny arm. “I’m not starving to death yet, but there used to be a lot more of me.”

  “I’m well aware of the situation, Dr. North.”

  Zoe only resorted to formal names when she was pissed.

  Sarah sagged. “I deserved that.” She gave Zoe’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

  Zoe shrugged off her touch but there was forgiveness in her gaze. “We’re all tired, Sarah.”

  “I know.” Sarah tucked loose hair behind her ears. She knew only too well. That was why it was so important to collect the vines. She was sure defeating the Chittrix would be won by tapping into the alien biology brought to Earth on the meteorites. The spores and seeds from their faraway planet, wherever the hell that was, would bring justice. And perhaps forgiveness for herself. She straightened her legs, her muscles needling with the rush of blood.

  “Sarah. Where are you going?”

  The sharp edge in Zoe’s words made her turn. “I didn’t come all this way to lie in the mud for four hours and then go home empty-handed. I’m cold and wet.” She pointed at her worn cotton cargo pants dark with moisture from last night’s rain. She jerked her head toward the purple plants clustered around the hive. “That’s where I’m going.”

  Zoe stabbed a finger at the damp earth. “We’re not going anywhere. It’s too dangerous.”

  Sarah shook her head. “Everything is dangerous.” Her voice rose, tinged with a slightly hysterical edge she couldn’t mute. “And we’re running out of time. You’ve said so yourself. Diana keeps going on about it. We’ve almost used all of our supplies. Soon the tinned food will run out. And what then? We’re literally on the precipice of winking out of existence. If the Chittrix don’t kill us, we’re going to starve to death.”

  Her heart thumped against her chest, heating her face while the rest of her was still chilled to the bone. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath, one that would melt the permanent chill in her bones. After which she wanted two weeks in a soft bed. With a duvet and clean sheets.

  Damn.

  She shook her head and lowered her voice. “We can’t hide forever. We need the plant samples now. Otherwise, we’ll be dead before we’ve had the chance to end this.” And that just wasn�
�t an option she was willing to entertain.

  “Fuck. I hate it when you make your let’s save the world speeches. I get all motivated and want to kill shit.” Zoe staggered to her feet and wobbled.

  Sarah caught her elbow, studying Zoe’s bloodless cheeks. “You okay?”

  “I think so.” She patted Sarah’s hand and shouldered her pulse rifle. “The first thing we’re going to do when you end these bastards for us is have a proper meal. Something deep-fried with chocolate.”

  Sarah grinned. ‘You can take the girl out of Glasgow…”

  Zoe gave her a dismissive wave. “Quit your sweet talking, darling, I’m convinced.” She smirked. “Will there be naked men as well as deep-fried chocolate?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “There aren’t any decent ones left.”

  Zoe crashed through a bush. “I said men. Not a moody Russian security guard and a nerdgineer.”

  “Their ears will be burning.”

  Zoe raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think anyone is sexy after you’ve lived underground with them for over a year. But that especially applies to Artem and Dr. Jacob Perry.”

  “You know for a psychiatrist you’re pretty harsh sometimes.”

  Zoe glanced sideways at her. “And who knew virologists were so virtuous?” She chuckled and shook her head. “Nope. I just say it like it is. That’s why they paid me the money.” She held a branch out of the way for Sarah. “You seriously never thought about either of them?”

  “Good grief, no.” Sarah shook her head in disbelief. “After everyone died at the beginning… ” She couldn’t even think about anything like that no matter what Zoe thought.

  Zoe’s expression softened. “That wasn’t your fault, Sarah. They chose to fight just like the rest of us.”

  But I was naïve and stupid. I told them they would win.

  Sarah forced a smile to change the subject. “Artem and Jacob…just no. And an alien apocalypse is the last place anyone is going to find love. There’s too much surviving needing to be done.”

  She tramped past Zoe. Brambles were knee deep, their thorns catching on every exposed inch of fabric. She sucked at a deep scratch on her hand. She’d need to clean it as soon as they were back at Carven House. With limited antibiotics, septicemia was a real risk.

  Zoe remained motionless, distracted by her own chain of thought. Her eyes were wistful. “Who said anything about love, I meant a really good f—”

  “Zoe. Are you coming or do I have to kill all the aliens by myself?”

  2

  Eli Mabe threw the backpack into the rear of the Jackal armored vehicle. “What the hell do you have in there? Bricks to batter a Chittrix about the head if they get too close?”

  “Thank you.” Georgina smiled sweetly. “I was waiting for Ryan to do it, but Foster seems to have waylaid him.”

  Mabe glanced over the top of the Jackal’s raised gun tower. Lincoln Foster was on the far side of the cavernous loading bay, enthusiastically loading Ryan Hardy up with long gun bags and tactical kit.

  It was fucking cold down here, Mabe’s breath clouded, damp and reluctant in the freezing air. He patted his shirt. Even Barney, his mouse, had refused to leave the comfort of his top pocket. Mabe didn’t blame him.

  Three months had passed since their original base near Salisbury had been destroyed, leading them here to a disused cold war bunker in Brackla, South Wales. It felt like longer; in fact he was sure every day was longer, stretching out minute by minute, until eventually there would be no end.

  Under the insipid glow of the yellow strip lighting, Hardy dipped as Foster added another heavy pack to the pile. Foster gesticulated wildly. Looked like he was on a roll.

  “I think Foster might be pushing his luck on the injured soldier routine.”

  Georgina grinned and swung herself up onto the top of the Jackal where she rearranged her supplies, slotting them into storage spaces and securing them in position. “His limp is barely discernible. He’s healed well, considering—” She stopped and wiped a loose strand of fair hair from her forehead. Her gaze softened at the memory.

  Mabe’s jaw tightened. The journey to Brackla had been fraught, triggered by explosions planted in the Command Base and a lethal Chittrix attack. The subsequent escape had been chaotic—Foster’s broken leg, fleeing groups of people split apart by attacking Chittrix. Mabe knew he had been lucky to make it to Brackla in one piece, “No matter what happened. We made it here. You remember that.”

  Georgina shot him an appreciative smile as she jumped down from the Jackal. “Sometimes I think Hardy still feels responsible because he didn’t find the explosives in the Command Base sooner.”

  “The only individual responsible for the destruction of the CB and the shit storm that followed was Mathew.” Mabe’s fists tightened at the memory of the dead scavenger. “Hardy knows that, as do the rest of us.”

  She tilted her head as Hardy turned, her eyes softening as her man approached them. “I hope so. I tell him often enough.”

  Behind Hardy, Foster had moved on to a new victim. He was loading up Joe, the seven-year-old that Hardy had found with his dead mother on the outskirts of Cardiff only a few short months ago.

  Hardy staggered up, peering over the pile at Mabe. “Where do you want this lot?”

  Mabe stifled a grin and pointed to the rear of the larger Coyote Tactical Support Vehicle.

  Hardy shoved ammunition boxes and gun bags along the Coyote’s bare metal floor before he brushed his hands on the seat of his pants. “As usual, Foster appears to be taking his own mini apocalypse.”

  “Wouldn’t be the same if I just sweet-talked them, would it?” Foster patted Hardy’s cheeks, a gesture that would have earned any other man a punch on the nose. He jumped into the Coyote and bent over his supplies. “Hey, ladies,” he crooned, stowing his kit. “Joe, bring that pulse rifle over here.”

  Foster took the pulse rifle from Joe, but his attention scoured the bay. “Where’s Garrick?”

  Mabe pointed to the far side of the vaulted space where Garrick, their leader, was talking to Anna, the scientist he’d rescued from the wreckage of Magdon Down’s Science and Weapons lab. They were talking, their heads almost bumping. Their happiness was palpable, the curve of Garrick’s arm around her waist, the way she reached for his cheek and stroked her fingers across his jaw. As they spoke, Garrick slid one protective palm across Anna’s belly and lifting her other hand kissed the inside of her wrist. The gesture was so brief, a microcosm of movement, if Mabe had blinked he would have missed it, but he didn’t.

  And now I know.

  It was always going to come to this, that there would be a new generation, a fresh reason to fight and find a way forward. A sense of heaviness settled on his shoulders. Why did even thinking about it make him feel tired? He glanced away from the intimate moment as the emptiness in him shifted and raised its hungry head, remembering the tight bear hugs his niece Rachel would give him whenever he visited.

  Down.

  He should be happy for Garrick and Anna. He was happy for them. He would fight to protect all of the now displaced inhabitants of Brackla and any children that were part of the community. But close relationships were not for him. Not when the chances were high one of you would end up dead in the coming weeks.

  No matter how much he wanted to believe differently, when he looked around and saw the fragile bonds of love in the group that had taken him in, he knew it wasn’t the path for him. His parents had died when he was young, leaving him and his younger sister, Lissy, to take on the world on their own. When Lissy had split from her husband a few years ago, Lissy and Rachel had become his family, his entire world. Losing them to the Chittrix had ripped out his heart and he’d decided then, there wasn’t a place for those kinds of attachments anymore. He just didn’t have it in him to grieve for another loss.

  He kicked at dirt on the floor, bringing himself back to the here and now, and cleared his throat. “We should head out soon. The sun will be up in half
an hour. There’s no guarantee the roads to Cardiff will be clear.”

  He’d always hated goodbyes. He hated them even more now that Hardy and Georgina were leaving to search for her sister in Scotland.

  “Take care of yourself. And Foster.” Georgina wrapped her arms around Mabe, her arms barely meeting around the breadth of his middle. Soft hair brushed his cheek, a fragile reminder of the past when he’d rubbed Rachel’s head while she read him pony stories propped between his legs.

  “I do not need taking care of.” Foster grinned, grabbed Georgina, and squashed her in a bear hug. “You ever get bored with this delicious nurse, just let me know, Hardy.”

  Hardy growled and paced forward.

  Foster grinned and planted a chaste kiss on Georgina’s forehead before releasing her. Then, before Hardy could react, Foster snatched him in a fierce shoulder hug. “Take care of both of you, man.” He slapped Hardy hard on the back then pushed him away, blinking furiously and spinning on his heels. “You guys are distracting me from my ladies, now where was I?” He vaulted up into the Coyote, the slight wince as he landed only visible to someone who knew him well.

  Georgina eyed Mabe. Like I said. Look after him.

  Mabe gave the briefest nod.

  “Hardy. You ready?” Garrick approached the small group with Anna.