He arrived outside McCook while it was light outside; gray clouds lingered in the sky, but the threat of further rain had diminished. The roads were damp and the ditches were heavy with rainwater.
There was no sign of the truck on the highway. He’d evidently fixed the problem and had moved on. Great. What choice was there now? He had to head for Denver and hope the Roamers were nearby.
What had happened to the semi? He drove to the stretch of road, which bore black tire skid marks, and pieces of rubber still on the asphalt. Blown tire. It wasn’t really that rare, especially with the condition of the highways these days. Hell, even Dex carried around two spares to make sure he was prepared. But if these Roamers were as smart as he thought they were, it might not have been a coincidence.
McCook was a small place, not much to look at. It lay between the Occupation in Omaha and Denver, but also along a major route. If there was an opportunity to hide a terrorist group, it was here. Dex pulled over to examine his tablet. He ran a quick scan of the county, searching for any IDs from the last twelve hours. Three came up on his screen. Dex’s heart beat faster as he saw the names. One belonged to the driver of truck twelve, one was his own name, and the last was Eric Chan, another hunter.
Eric was a loner, even more so than Dex, a stick-to-himself Hunter who rarely came in, unless he was forced to. He loved to hunt the ones no one else did, and his track record was almost as good as Dex’s. If he was there, he might have found something worth exploring. Dex raced onto the highway, following the roads until he ended at the location where Eric had stopped. He watched the ID pattern, and it made no sense. Unless Eric had grown wings. Or…
“Damn it. How did you get a hovercar?” Dex asked himself. The streets were dark now, his headlights two bright beacons in the dead town. He drove as quietly as his muscle car would let him and cut the lights a few blocks away. He parked in front of a decrepit house and killed the engine.
Minutes later, Dex was standing outside a church. “Church. A little something for everyone,” he said, walking up with his Glock pressed firmly in his grip. He wanted to shout for Eric, to tell him it was another Hunter, because he didn’t want to end up on the bad end of a bullet, but he kept his mouth shut.
The doors were swung open, a clear sign someone had been there. He entered the church and noticed muddy footprints. Whoever had visited didn’t seem concerned about being tracked. That led Dex to assume the base was not in the immediate vicinity. He followed the mud until it ended inside the church. He could remember going to church a few times as a kid, being dragged by his mother at Easter and Christmas. His dad told him to believe what he wanted, and Dex had sat in the back rows with his family and listened with rapt attention as the preacher recounted tales about Jesus being born or rising from the grave.
Dex shook the cobwebs from his memories and closed his eyes for a second, pushing the image of his parents from his mind. “Not now, Dex,” he told himself as he scanned the room, using a flashlight. Eric’s ID showed him long gone, but he knew a few Hunters with tricks to hide themselves. He had his own guiles in his back pocket.
The pulpit at the front of the stage was still standing and Dex noticed something reflect the light of his flashlight. He jogged forward and saw the tablet. It was the kind the Managers were each provided with. Not quite as informative as a Hunters’, but it held more details than a guard’s or site supervisor’s.
He tapped it to life, and a location was keyed into the map. Cripple Creek, Colorado.
This was it. This had to belong to the terrorists. That was where they were heading. Dex considered calling it in, letting Cleveland know what he’d found. But if he did that, the Overseers would be alerted, along with their Seekers and Trackers. His last altercation with the dog-like death robots had him unsettled, and Dex wanted to stay as far away from the aliens and their pets as he could.
Seeing the giant alien space vessel roaring within the atmosphere also had him on edge. He could feel the shift in the Occupation, and he didn’t like where it was heading.
Against his better judgment, Dex kept the tablet, ran to his car, and raced down the dark streets heading for his new destination, unsure what it was he would find there.
Chapter 43
Alec
They’d remained high in the sky for most of the trip, higher than Monet said was safe. She’d tried to convince Crash to reduce their altitude a half dozen times, but he claimed they were more secure away from the Overseer’s sensors.
Monet had thrown a fit when she realized she’d left the tablet at the church. They’d been so startled by the loud hovercar thrusters that they’d run for the doors, leaving the device behind.
Alec doubted anyone would ever find it in lonely McCook. He didn’t think anyone would have a reason to visit the place, and if they discovered the tablet, it would likely have no charge by that point. None of his comments seemed to help her foul mood.
They weren’t moving quite as fast as Alec had suspected, but they were almost there. He peered through the windows, taking in the peaks of enormous mountain ranges, and it blew his mind. They were so majestic, that it was hard to not believe in something bigger than humans or even the Overseers at that point.
“Do you hear that, Crash? The hovercar is sputtering. It’s leaking fluids, and we need to land it and either repair it or walk the rest of the way,” Monet shouted.
“You see that big mountain?” he asked, pointing below.
Alec watched from behind as Monet nodded.
“I need to get us around that, then land. I don’t want to have to walk over it.” Crash began maneuvering them south, and Alec’s stomach lurched as they began their descent. It was freezing up there, the hovercar not built for comfort apparently. Or the aliens had different ideas of what constituted luxury.
The hovercar was starting to struggle, the thrusters kicking on and off.
“Shit, what do we do?” Crash asked, for the first time letting Alec hear a sense of nervousness.
“Let me take over,” Monet said, and Crash didn’t hesitate to move. She crawled across him and seized the controls. “Hold on to your seats,” she warned, and Alec did a second too late. They dropped, and his eyes began to roll back as he tried to watch what Monet was doing. She was flipping switches as they plunged, and with a sudden motion, the thrusters fired up, slowing just enough to stop them from hitting the ground at full speed.
It was like he was in a dream, with no way to prevent the inevitable. He closed his eyes, silently hoping they would make it. They’d come so far; he couldn’t die like this.
Alec felt the impact as the hovercar broke through tall tree cover, branches snapping heavily, and the car skidded to a standstill, its nose bashing into a boulder, spinning it to the side. The left edge then smashed into a thick tree trunk, sending Alec and the others reeling. He heard something shatter, and everything went dark.
“Alec… Alec, are you okay?” Monet was leaned over him, her brown eyes lively and concerned. She had a cut on her forehead that was dripping on his chest, and he tried to sit up. He’d been pulled from the hovercar, and he glanced to the side in time to see their transportation explode. Monet lay her body over his, trying to protect him, and debris rained down all around them.
“Where’s Crash?” Alec asked as he tried to slide from under Monet. She lay still now, her body a dead weight on his. He saw it then. The piece of the ship had struck her in the back of the head. Blood was everywhere now, and he let out a panicked shout.
“Monet!” he yelled, struggling free from her grasp. He rolled her onto her back, checking to make sure the debris had finished falling. The hovercar was still on fire, and heavy smoke poured from it.
“Kid, we have to go. They’ll see that from miles away,” Crash said from somewhere behind him. He didn’t have to tell Alec who they were. The place would be teeming with Trackers and Seekers before they knew it.
“We can’t leave her!” Alec said, and Crash was at his side, press
ing a finger to her neck. She seemed so small now, helpless as she lay unconscious… or dead.
“She’s alive. Give me a hand,” Crash said, picking her up. He limped along, and Alec saw the bloody tear in Crash’s right thigh.
“Let me take her,” Alec offered. He stood up and tested his arms and legs before patting his chest. He seemed to be in one piece, and Crash passed her over to Alec. He wasn’t the biggest man, but years of holding up sheet metal in the factories had given him strength he otherwise might not have had.
“This way,” Crash said, and Alec started forward with Monet in his arms. She wasn’t very heavy, but he knew he’d only be able to carry her so far. They were in the foothills of a range, and not only was the ground uneven and full of thick vegetation, but it was dark.
“Do you have a gun?” Alec asked.
Crash patted his chest where he retained two handguns in his double holster. “Still got these. I’d be surprised if Monet didn’t have one on her somewhere.”
“But no food or water?” Alec asked.
Crash limped along, struggling as they meandered away from the burning vessel. “No, but we have fresh mountain river water to sate our thirst, my friend. Have you ever been in the mountains before?”
Alec didn’t feel like making small talk. He just grunted, and Crash apparently understood. He stayed quiet as they walked for what had to be another mile. Alec’s arms were aching, his legs burning, and he knew there was no more gas in his tank. “I need to…”
“Stop? Good idea. I hear some running water. It’s only another few hundred yards, I promise.” Crash led the way, and Alec hardly knew what he was doing anymore. His feet lifted with the added weight of Monet in his arms, and eventually, he bumped into Crash, who’d stopped in his tracks. He helped lower Monet to the ground and waved Alec to the edge of a trickling stream.
He watched as Crash scooped some up, drinking from cupped hands. Alec followed his lead, and when his parched throat was soothed, he wiped some over his face and hair.
There was a noise behind them, and Crash had a gun in his hand in an instant.
Alec’s heart soared when he saw it was Monet trying to sit up. “Monet!” He rushed over to her. “Are you okay?”
“Stay down,” Crash instructed.
“Where are we?” she asked. Her eyes were half open, but she had a dazed expression on her face.
“You have a concussion. Our friend here was kind enough to carry you. We should only be a couple miles from our target,” Crash said.
“Thank you, Alec,” Monet said.
He reminded her that she was only hurt because she’d put herself in harm’s way to save him, but she didn’t seem to think anything of it.
They stayed for another hour, having their fill of water and washing their wounds. Monet ended up with a bandage made from pieces of Crash’s jacket, and the man fashioned one for his sliced-up thigh. He also found a stick to help him walk. The sun was starting to rise when they decided to move on.
“Shhhhh. Do you hear that?” Monet asked.
“Well, what do we have here?” a woman’s voice asked. She was at least fifty yards away and was aiming a rifle with a scope on it at them. “You don’t look like Eric,” the woman said.
Crash brought one of his handguns up just as the rifle shot rang out through the valley. Crash stopped, like he was pondering one of life’s great mysteries. Then his gun fell to the ground, and he crumpled in a heap.
“Crash!” Monet yelled, reaching for the gun. She pulled Alec behind a tree, and they stood there, hiding in the dim dawn light.
Another gunshot echoed toward them, this time striking the bark of the tree they stood behind.
“What do we do?” Alec asked. Monet’s eyes told him she didn’t know.
Chapter 44
Lina
They waited above the camp’s opening, hiding among the rubble of the stone structure. Cole lifted a finger and pressed it against his lips, his eyes warning her there was still danger surrounding them. There was a fourth man, and he was even more bedraggled than the others. He stumbled into the building, and he let forth a howl of anger. He would have seen the bodies of his fallen friends.
Cole’s hand raised, his fingers dropping one by one in a countdown. She understood what he wanted to do. She leaned against the broken chunk of rock, and it only partially broke away, landing on the ground prematurely. The man glanced up from below, his face turning into a grotesque snarl.
“Again!” Cole shouted at her, and they pressed with all their strength. As the rock fell, she saw their target attempt to flee, but the coyote stood in his path, keeping him at bay.
Having missed with her attempt and feeling more annoyed with herself than embarrassed, Lina watched with cruel satisfaction as the lump of broken concrete flattened the ugly man with a crunch.
She could see Cole was blown from the effort of heaving the massive chunk over the edge of the broken wall two floors up from the ground below and his red face pulsed with the throbbing of a vein at his right temple. He appeared overcome by a wave of dizziness and sat, taking slow, controlled breaths to steady himself. If his head hurt half as much as hers did, then he was in a bad way.
Having regained some more of her senses since being dragged from the stinking room, Lina took control and helped Cole to his feet.
“We need to move,” she told him. “We need to leave this place and never return.”
“No argument from me,” he muttered as he tried and failed to stand on the second attempt. She helped him down the stairs, so that by the time they’d made it safely to ground level, he was able to walk unaided but significantly slower than he usually did.
They managed another hour before the sun began to slip away and the chill of the early evening air changed the game. Cole found somewhere that was far from their normal routine and tucked them both in a basement he accessed from an external door under an abandoned house. It was very unlike him to choose a place that had no emergency exit lined up, but he seemed happy to tuck them away in the dark and wait it out until their injuries weren’t so painful.
What was painful, however, was their supply situation. Both of them had been carrying meat caught the day before in the form of a particularly thin rabbit and a squirrel. Neither would be considered great eating, but given that their enforced alternative now was no eating, they seemed like a decent prospect. Both had been taken by the people near the outskirts of the city along with a knife, two water bottles-both filled with clean water-and all of their spare shotgun shells. Given that Lina’s gun was nowhere to be seen when they’d escaped, and that Cole was down to literally a handful of shots for his gun, she felt a pang of fear for their safety.
Their heads and necks and arms hurt like neither of them had experienced before, and having to ration out the contents of the single water bottle they had left wasn’t going to help that situation.
“Let’s sleep,” Cole suggested. His movements were sluggish, and Lina eyed him suspiciously, not sure if it was more exhaustion than the lump on the back of his head.
“You shouldn’t go to sleep after you’ve been knocked out,” she said gently as she pulled her own sleeping bag from the mess of the untidily packed bag.
“I’ll take the risk,” Cole said, screwing his face up in pain as he lay flat. He groaned as he moved carefully, letting all of the tension out in a pained but relieved sigh as he let his body relax.
He was asleep in minutes, Lina watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as his breathing fell into rhythm and he drifted off into total unconsciousness. She felt bone-weary too, and after watching him for as long as she could manage to keep her own eyes open, she wriggled into her sleeping bag and lay down beside him, their bodies pressed together to keep warm.
She heard the familiar sounds of their now friendly coyote plodding around outside. Noises that once were off-putting and alarming were now comforting, like the healing animal could keep watch over their sleeping forms. Lina was glad
for his company and found herself trailing off moments later.
It took them almost a week of searching the houses they stayed in to replace the items lost. Lina even discovered a half box of birdshot in a cabinet drawer in one place, seeing Cole’s eyes light up as he replenished the three spent cartridges from his gun, which he’d stripped and cleaned thoroughly on the day after their escape to wipe all traces of blood and dust from it.
They fell into the same routine whereby they walked from dusk ‘til dawn, apart from the few nights where there was no moon at all, and they were left in the pitch black, forcing them to rest and walk as far as they could before the pre-dawn became full sunlight.
The coyote traveled with them still, staying closer and closer every night. She’d even considered giving the beast a name but didn’t want to get her hopes up. If she named him, it would only be harder when they eventually went separate ways.
Some nights were more difficult than others as their journey took them one pace upwards for every three paces forwards, which sapped the strength from their legs. Food was also proving harder to come by, because the smaller mammals of the lower plains were scarcer. There was plenty of evidence of larger predators, some even that could pose a risk to them, but they kept their eyes and ears alert, never straying far from the old bones of the road, which mostly kept them out from under the cover of the trees. Still, they made good distance, covering at least thirty miles a day.
Cole told her he’d been all over the country and seen all kinds of colors, shapes, and sizes of almost everything, but Lina was still reeling in shock at the dusty plains of New Mexico after growing up in a luscious green and warm valley. She’d never seen snow, so when she woke in the middle of a day sleeping to find Cole not beside her, she panicked and ran outside to gasp out loud.
Occupation: A Post-Apocalyptic Alien Invasion Thriller (Rise Book 1) Page 21
