He knew what those were. For women, it was either work in the plants, making god knows what for the bastards, or being sent to the breeding facilities. The third alternative was death, which was preferable for a lot of people.
“I hear you,” he said. Beth stared at him, her one green and one brown eye boring into his. It was enough of a genetic defect that she hadn’t been sent to the breeding grounds, and little enough of one that she was allowed to live. Lucky girl.
“How do you do it?” she asked, glancing at his small serving of the tasteless mush.
“Do what?”
“Go on. This is never going to change. You need to admit that, and then you can move on.” She was whispering, keeping their conversation private. Most of the other tables were full of people eating voraciously in silence. Three human supervisors walked between the tables, guns in hand. Alec hated those people most of all. The ones who chose to side with them. If he had a gun, he’d…
“Look, there’s always a better life. It’s up to us to find it,” he said, only half believing his own words.
“Sure. Look me up when you arrive.” Beth spooned the last of her dinner into her mouth and ran a hand over her recently shorn head. It was the same haircut they all had. Once a month, the supervisors shaved their heads, and Alec didn’t mind it. It was all he’d ever known.
He leaned in, pretending he’d dropped something in the middle of the table. “I’m going tonight.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
“I need to. I can’t… I need to. Come with me.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s too risky. When I leave next, it’s going to be for real.”
For real? He was about to ask her what she meant, when the alarm rang out again, indicating dinner was complete. He ate the last of his meager serving and stood. He moved close to her in line. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow, okay?”
She nodded without turning or saying anything more.
Twenty minutes later, Alec was inside his bunk. As the door closed, he slid a piece of cardboard between the latch and frame, before the electronic locks slid into place. He stared out of the tiny barred window at the grassy view that stretched out behind the manufacturing plant. There was so much out there. So much empty space. There had to be others who wanted freedom from this oppression.
He waited two hours, until everyone would be fast asleep, exhausted from the twelve-hour shift, before he opened his bunk door slowly and carefully so the hinges didn’t alert anyone of his escape. He picked up the piece of cardboard and stepped into the hall, glancing at his wrist where the locator was embedded into his bone. He’d almost forgotten the most important part! He could have been killed within a few minutes without it.
Alec pulled the metallic strip from under his mattress, and wrapped it around his wrist, clicking it into place. It vibrated slightly, somehow blocking the signal of his locator. He tried not to think of Tom’s expression on the plant floor, the last time he’d seen him. One day he was there, the next he’d vanished into thin air. Tom had acted like a father to him, even though he’d only been there for a year or so. Now he was most likely dead. But Tom had left a few presents behind for Alec, and for that, he’d be eternally grateful.
He scanned the darkness for signs of guards, but the halls were empty. The Seekers would be in the skies, but no one had escaped from the Plant for at least three years. The Overseers were either growing complacent or they were concentrating on other things. A few tense minutes later, Alec was in the grassy field, running through the fresh night air.
At that moment, he felt free, and he clung to it. If they found him now, he’d be killed, but part of him was at peace with that. At least he didn’t give in to them like everyone else.
He knew this path like the back of his hand and checked his wrist as he neared the edge of the field, making sure the ID chip blocker was still intact. It wasn’t foolproof, but something in the band messed with their sensors, or that was what Tom had told him. So far, it had worked like a charm.
A wooden barbed-wire fence ran along the property line, and he hopped the four feet, vaulting his legs over the log beam, landing softly on the gravel road beyond. With a glance to the skies, Alec moved to the opposite ditch and headed north.
Ten minutes later, Alec arrived at his destination out of breath. Sweat dripped down his back in the cool night air as he entered the abandoned building. This street was full of derelict warehouses, and Alec knew this had once been a thriving commercial region of Detroit. Now it was home to rats and not much else.
The side door creaked as Alec pulled it open, and he darted inside the safety of the structure. Boxes sat piled high on pallets from a lifetime ago. This had once been a ball-bearing distributor, and the entire warehouse room had the lingering smell of grease to it.
A sliver of moonlight slipped through a skylight and lit his way to the office at the rear of the floor. For the first time in the last month, Alec felt happiness creep into his mind. This was his haven.
He found the flashlight and flicked it on, setting it on the desk. Alec sat in the chair and pulled the box across the wooden surface. Inside, he found what he needed. Pictures. Magazines. All from a world he’d never known but wanted so badly.
Alec had been born three months into the incursion, twenty-five years ago. He liked to think his parents had been joyful people; in love and excited at the thought of starting a family.
He scanned through other people’s long forgotten photos, seeing birthday parties, school graduations, and weddings, everyone smiling in each of them. Those were what kept him going all these years.
What was he doing? Sneaking out at night to stare at memories of an Earth that would never be again.
“Get it together,” he whispered to himself. The thought of returning to the factory and doing it all again tomorrow, or today, judging by the moon, was enough to send a shiver of dread through his body. How long could he go on like this?
He needed to leave, for good. He had to take Beth and escape Detroit. He’d heard rumors of a safe zone over the last ten years, and it was time to put the gossip to the test. If only he could duplicate the technology on his wrist.
Alec flicked off the flashlight and shoved the box to its original spot. It was time to go home. Each step was a challenge as he crossed the warehouse and marched outside.
His heart hammered in his chest the moment the fresh air hit his lungs. The familiar whine of an active Seeker drone carried to his ears from above.
Chapter 3
Lina
“Don’t give up,” Lina whispered to the old man struggling up the steep hill. “Not long to go until we can rest.” Her smile, a full set of white teeth showing against her coffee-colored skin and jet-black hair, shone bright and genuine. She hoped it would reassure him, make him forget the nagging pain in his chest and the agony of what they had left behind.
Their safe home in the wooded hills of the huge reserve was all that remained of their people, so far as they knew. The thirty or so survivors fleeing the burning wreckage of their village were a mixture of old and young. In her twenty-first summer, Lina had worked as a healer since she was a child. Because she was a healer, because she was someone who people looked to for answers and reassurance, she stepped up to the plate.
That was why, standing high on a wooded hill overlooking the valley where she’d been born, she smiled at the broken and frightened remnants of her entire people to portray a confidence she didn’t feel. She’d been following the advice of the elders and knew that they must lead the people up out of the hidden valley and north until they reached the snow-capped mountains.
The flames from far below frightened her and would haunt her dreams for as long as she lived, but her face never revealed that fear and loss in case it infected the others and put them at risk. She hitched up the heavy pack on her shoulder and stepped down to assist a woman struggling to carry a bag of hastily gathered belongings and a child under her other arm.
&n
bsp; “Lina,” a gruff voice said from behind her. She turned to see one of the village’s warriors, holding up a hand to her.
“Caleb,” she said. “What’s up?”
“One of the elders has fallen,” he told her.
“How bad?”
“She says she cannot move her leg. It hurts her too much.”
Lina bit her lip before answering. “Everyone needs to keep going,” she said. “We can’t be on the side of the mountain after dark; it’s too dangerous.”
“Where do you suggest we go?” Caleb asked. He was brave, of that there was no doubt, but when it came to strategy, he was a follower rather than a leader.
“The old roads should be over the crest,” she told him. “I have seen them before. Gather everyone to the shelter and I’ll follow.” Caleb tried to argue, but she sent him away to look after the majority of their group. He went reluctantly, trying to sound reassuring as he encouraged them to speed up and leave the mountainside before night began to fall. Lina stepped carefully through the steep path until she found the old woman sitting with her back against a pine tree twice as wide as she was. She held on to her left ankle with both hands, her eyes squeezed tight in pain, her toothless mouth held in a silent scream.
“It’s okay,” Lina said soothingly as she knelt beside the woman surrounded by her loved ones. “You’re going to be okay.” She slipped off her pack and pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle containing a neatly cut strip of cloth already soaked in lavender oil. The old woman hissed in pain as Lina slipped off her sandal and stretched the bandage to wrap it tightly around her swollen ankle with practiced hands.
She reached into a pouch for a sprig of cut lavender, handing it to the woman, who took it silently and pressed it to her top lip before inhaling deeply, letting the soothing scent of the flowers calm her.
Lina finished the bandage and slipped the remains of the plant into the pocket of the woman’s coat. “You’ll need to carry her,” she told the few people waiting around in nervous inactivity, “at least until we catch up with the others.”
They all ducked instinctively as the whoosh of air and a high-pitched shriek passed far overhead. The fast-moving hovercraft was followed by two more as the rumbling sounds of distant explosions rolled up the mountain.
“We need to move,” Lina said, thanking their luck that their group had moved when they did, and that the hovercrafts that came with the bombs must have been far enough away to allow for their people to flee.
The woman was carried from the wet ground, her arms stretched over the shoulders of the two fittest to remain with her. The main group was out of sight by the time they’d restarted their upwards journey, and with fire and explosions below them and uncertainty up ahead, the climb was an arduous one.
Screams and cries of alarm sounded from across the crest, making Lina and the group she’d returned for drop and press themselves flat onto the ground. She crawled on her belly, inching up the wet slope as her heart pounded fit to burst. The whine of an engine reached her brain before her eyes could take in the scene.
The buildings beside the old road had long succumbed to the wind and time, but there was still valuable shelter to be found there. The rest of her people, almost all of the survivors of the world she had grown up a part of, were being corralled inside a circle of armed men and women. All of them wore stiff-looking uniforms, making them appear like they’d been made as part of a single batch, and pointed shining weapons at her people.
“No,” she growled angrily, pushing herself up and preparing to run blindly to their aid and her unwitting fate. She never made it to her feet, as the old woman with the sprained ankle grabbed Lina’s boot and pulled her to the ground. Lina’s face hit the damp earth and her mouth filled with dirt. The woman held a finger to her lips and pointed firmly at Lina.
The old lady stabbed her finger at the rest of the group, and then pointed off to the north through the trees. She said nothing, made no sound at all, but the wide-eyed stare of resolve made arguing a pointless exercise.
Without looking at the younger men and women, and the children, the woman forced herself to her feet and hobbled over the peak.
Lina pressed her forehead to the ground for a second, hearing the stifled crying of people behind her, and turned to lead them away as she had just silently promised she would.
She had no choice. It was the survival of some or it was the destruction of all of them. Tears ran down the faces of the group as she threaded her way through the dense forest as behind them the sound of screaming and the metallic twang of guns signaled death.
Caleb bravely led his group onto the higher plain where the old road stood. He’d been up there as a child many times, never leaving the dense cover of the trees, but felt no such fear as he pushed ahead to show the survivors of his home the way.
He stopped, waving an arm above his head to lead them into the dying light and towards the collection of low buildings where he envisioned them seeking safe shelter for the night.
He didn’t hear the rapidly descending hovercraft, but he did catch the tormented screams from the villagers who were caught in the open and exposed. Another hovercraft popped above the tree tops, silent until it emerged into open space. The shrieking whine of the engines tore through the air to drown out their cries. The ships sank to the ground, whipping up great clouds of pale red dust, which settled after the engines hushed to silence.
The circular doors opened, and ramps descended, spilling out two squads of uniformed humans who hefted bright metallic weapons and corralled the terrified people into a tightly huddled group.
From each ship came one of them.
Many of the older generation, those who’d been no more than young children when the invasion first began, had seen the aliens when they arrived. For many of the unfortunate souls who’d been born since, their first sight of the occupying force drew screams of terror and repulsion.
One of the Overseers walked slowly towards the group, showing only disgust and derision at the sight of so many uncatalogued, wild humans.
It was tall. Taller than any person Caleb had ever seen, and it walked with a curious gait that resembled a wading bird; knees bending backwards and thick, scaled skin covering the sinewy muscles. Long arms hung past its thin waist, lower than a human’s would, and the pointed snout below almond-shaped yellow eyes opened when its lips peeled back to reveal a double-row of sharp, pointed teeth.
It snarled something at the uniformed collaborators, who began dragging people out from the fringes of the huddle and separating them under direction of the alien.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that those separated were too old or infirm to be considered for breeding. The younger ones had a device pressed into the base of their skulls and became instantly compliant, shuffling up the ramps of the ships to their imprisonment and ultimate death. Many more would be assessed at the sprawling work camps and be found unfit to work or breed. They would all be killed in time.
Those left behind huddled together to await their deaths, which came at the hands of their own kind, who opened fire on them without mercy, like they were exterminating vermin.
Chapter 4
Dex
Dex rolled his window down, letting the chilled night air blow against his face. There wasn’t much he enjoyed more than cruising the empty interstate at two in the morning, music blaring. The CD player still worked in his car, and he was careful to keep his favorites from scratching. He momentarily found himself wondering if anyone would ever make music again and pushed the idle thought from his mind.
He had bigger fish to fry. The classic rock song reached its crescendo, and Dex’s foot pressed hard on the pedal, advancing down the roadway at an unsafe speed. He didn’t care. There were no more police or highway patrol to stop him, and that was how he liked it. Occasionally, the roads would be busted open from wild vegetation, but a flat tire was a risk he took on each mission.
To top it all off, the bastards had outfitted the
engine with some contraption that made gasoline obsolete. It was some sort of renewable liquid they gave him to fill the tank with. He didn’t quite understand the tubes flowing in and out of the hood to the undercarriage and didn’t really care. It kept driving, and that in itself was a miracle.
“Where are you?” He grabbed the folder from the leather passenger seat and opened it with one hand, looking away from the road for a second. He scanned the picture and saw the name on the bottom: Trent James. What kind of name was that anyway? It sounded like an accountant, not a deserter rumored to be linked to the fabled uprising. He read the file notes and laughed. The guy was listed as an auditor.
This was his fifth hunt over the past six weeks, and the Overseers weren’t happy about all the people escaping their camps. At least that was what Dex had been told by his boss. He never had direct contact with them, and that suited Dex just fine. The less those yellow eyes saw of him, the better his chances of surviving.
The last four hunts had gone as they always did, with him dragging a body around inside his trunk. It was one of the reasons he drove the old Chevy, the trunk space. Plus, it went like a bat out of hell.
He tossed the folder to the seat beside him, cranked the volume higher, and kept heading toward the full moon hanging in the sky like an omen.
An hour passed and he slowed, seeing the sign indicating the exit for Creston, Iowa. Another nowhere town in a nothing state. The Overseers weren’t set up in Iowa, which made it the perfect running grounds for defectors. The target’s locator was last active here in Creston, but it hadn’t moved in three days. That either meant he’d removed it or he was still there, hoping no one would put the energy into finding the worthless Trent James.
Dex was batting a thousand if he didn’t count the few unfortunate instances sprinkled within the last ten years. Which he didn’t, because sometimes things happened that were out of his control. He took the exit into the small town. It appeared so much like every other settlement in that part of the United States. Bland and dark. Streetlights were a thing of the past, and he cut his own car’s lights as he turned onto the main road. The bright high moon cast enough glow to grant him safe passage.
Occupation: A Post-Apocalyptic Alien Invasion Thriller (Rise Book 1) Page 2
