Critical Dawn

by Darren Wearmouth

  “While you’re in there,” Gregor said, his face lighting up with an idea, “sabotage their communication rig. That way, if things get fucked up down here, those up there won’t have a clue.”

  Layla took a breath and checked herself over, smartening herself up. “I’ll tell them I just went out for a scout and got attacked by a survivor,” she said. “If there are any questions.”

  “The way Vlad is, I doubt he’ll even notice,” Gregor added. “Go now, and Layla? Take care, won’t you?”

  She gave him a wink and disappeared beyond the trees. Denver just hoped there wasn’t a welcome party waiting for her. But she seemed strong and intelligent. He had confidence she’d figure something out.

  And he hoped his dad would get here soon. He’d been listening for sounds of gunfire and landmines, but the forest had taken on a heavy silence. He didn’t like that one bit. It always seemed to be a precursor to something unnatural, something dangerous, like the insects and birds and the few remaining mammals knew before any human. Even the trees seemed too still.

  But there was nothing left to do now other than wait.

  ***

  Charlie vaulted a log and sidestepped the rusted remnants of a water tower stanchion. Serpentine branches had woven through the crisscross metal supports, creating a solid green barrier. Skidding like a kid playing baseball, he dug his foot into the dirt and swung around behind the natural cover.

  Sweat clung to his camo shirt, sticking it to his back. His lungs ached with the exertion. Having taken the last of the root compound before the drive back, he was feeling the effects of his old muscles.

  Despite that, he’d still managed to outfox the alien hunter. He looked through a gap in the branches and saw birds flutter high above the tree line, indicating something moving below.

  The snap of a twig ahead of him confirmed it. He raised the alien rifle and sighted down its aiming groove. He didn’t understand fully how the damn thing’s armor worked, but having shot it in the leg before, it seemed that it could be caught off guard.

  A rustle of leaves twenty feet away and a darting squirrel made him tense, ready and waiting. But then nothing.

  The forest became still, almost as if the hunter had placed a blanket over the place.

  It was a trap.

  The hair on the back of Charlie’s neck stood on end, and his pulse spiked.

  He spun round to see the dark shadow dart out from behind a huge redwood. The hunter focused on Charlie, raising its sword.

  Even with the injured leg, it sprinted across the ground, eating up the distance.

  Charlie tried to spin out of the way, but his elbow got caught against a branch, unbalancing him and making him stumble over a root.

  The rifle slipped from his hand. He hit the ground on his ribs, winding himself. But with the adrenaline making his reactions faster and the remnants of the compound still active, he managed to twist in time to avoid the slash of the sword as it struck the ground inches from his head.

  The alien’s thick legs, knotted with muscles beneath the form-fitting armor, planted on either side of him, pinning him in place.

  Looking closely, he noticed the armor was actually a mesh. He could see a jagged hole just above its reversed knee. The fabric had torn away to reveal a thick coating of orange gel: the root as a healing agent.

  The alien lifted its sword from the ground.

  Its face, visible through a clear visor, seemed to smile at him. Its solid black eyes grew small.

  It struck out, but Charlie had anticipated the head strike and leaned forward. The sword swung freely over his head, the creature’s arm crashing into Charlie’s right shoulder.

  He took the hit with a grunt and reached over with his left hand to pin the alien’s arm. Charlie kicked forward into its left knee, collapsing it to the ground.

  Charlie knew he’d never be able to out-power it, but he could outsmart it.

  Grabbing a fistful of dirt with his free hand, he smeared it across the visor, and, letting go of its trapped arm, rolled away, coming up on his knees.

  From his flanking position, he noticed two pipes that connected its breathing apparatus to a slim tank on its bank.

  Before the alien had the chance to re-orient itself, Charlie launched himself onto its back, grabbing the pipes and pulling on them.

  They resisted at first, and the hunter tried to fling him from his back, but Charlie clung on and screamed with a deep roar as he put everything he had left into breaking those pipes.

  He felt the right one give, so he let go of the left and with both hands yanked on the right pipe. The alien dropped his sword and reached up and over with his hands, grabbing Charlie by the head.

  The damn thing’s strength was incredible.

  Charlie thought it’d crush his skull, but as it continued to thrash and buck, it pulled Charlie over its head and flung him away. The pipe came away with a loud hiss as Charlie collided with the ground; his head banged against a rock, making his vision swim.

  Through the dizziness, he watched as the hunter frantically tried to rejoin the connection to his breathing tank, but Charlie had the broken part in his hand. He dropped it and reached out for the alien rifle in front of him.

  Squinting to help combat his fuzzy vision, he pulled the trigger.

  The blast hit the alien square in the chest, throwing it back against the ground with a thud. Its arms collapsed by its side. Charlie heaved himself up and approached, holding the rifle in front of him.

  The alien was still. Yellow blood dripped from its chest, the wound raw and ugly, exposing its weird biology. Even its face, previously black behind the visor, had turned a sickly yellow color, its mouth held open in a silent snarl of final anguish.

  “You ugly fucker,” Charlie said, kicking at it to make it sure it was dead.

  No movement.

  “You’re the best they’ve got, eh? Welcome to my world, motherfucker.”

  Charlie spat blood from his mouth and turned, leaving the dead alien behind in the dirt for the animals and bugs to feed on. If it wanted Earth so much, it could have it.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Gregor scanned through the trees past his office toward the chocolate factory. Layla had been gone for just over an hour. A hover-bike breezed overhead and lowered into the square. Nothing out of the ordinary. The massive shape in the sky was, and it started to move again, rumbling along, creating a sound like a continuous blast from a distant foghorn. The croatoans on the ground, he observed, seemed oblivious to the new arrival.

  In the near vicinity, Layla’s trailer was reduced to a black, charred skeleton. Gregor wondered if the croatoans would kill her on sight, although it was him they were after and only acted on direct orders or procedures. Alex and Vlad’s trailers were still in place without any noticeable damage, as was Igor’s rotting shed.

  Maria shuffled alongside him on her elbows. “They told me you were responsible for the set-up inside the harvester.”

  Gregor shrugged. “I didn’t build them. Just passed the idea along to Augustus. He’s the real boss. Besides, you were safe in there. Had hope.”

  “Until my retirement.” She slapped him across the face and shuffled out of arm’s reach. “Now I can work with you.”

  “You can have that one for free,” Gregor said. “But only that one.”

  “Can’t say you didn’t deserve that,” Denver said.

  The slap momentarily stung, but it was worth taking if it meant having Maria fully onboard. He needed trust when leading the diversionary assault on the farm. Not a former harvester worker with a grudge, taking him down before they achieved their goal.

  Gregor turned to Denver. “There’s a lot of things you and your fake dad deserve too. All good things come to he who waits.”

  “Do you know what he once said about you?”

  “Fuck this,” Gregor said. “I’m going to sweep the forest. Make sure they’re not sneaking up. You should know all about that.”

  Ben
was propped against a tree. He’d sat and agreed with everyone for the last hour. Gregor resisted the temptation to kick him in the face as he passed.

  “How long you gonna be?” Denver said.

  “Not long. Layla should be back soon.”

  Gregor needed time to think away from the group. Every few minutes, Denver chipped away at his nerves. Maria was like a parrot on his shoulder.

  He wanted to think of a disaster recovery plan. If Charlie couldn’t get on the shuttle, they needed another play. Something effective. His mind blanked. It seemed like they had a one shot deal.

  Cutting through the trees, scrambling over obstacles and surveying the damp ground for fresh croatoan boot marks helped release some of the tension he felt building inside.

  Above, he heard the increasing hum of the shuttle descending toward the farm. The others would see it shortly. They’d positioned themselves in woodland between the landing area and warehouses. A trail was cut through the woodland to allow the containers to be transported for loading. As soon as the croatoans appeared on the trail, the plan was to attack the warehouses. Starting with the barracks.

  Something moved in the trees ahead.

  Gregor ducked behind a moss-covered rock and peered over it.

  A figured darted between two redwoods, heading toward him.

  Human.

  Charlie Jackson.

  Gregor looked down the sights of the AR-15. Aimed at Charlie. Followed his movements as he closed in. Fifty yards. Forty. Thirty.

  His finger itched on the trigger. Gregor had waited years for this opportunity. Denver would take the bomb if his father didn’t show.

  He couldn’t fire. Yesterday, Jackson would’ve been worm food. But not today.

  Charlie hadn’t spotted him. He was twenty yards away. Gregor kept the rifle shouldered and stood. “Managed to deal with the alien?”

  Charlie abruptly stopped. His hand twitched against the alien rifle. He darted behind a tree. “Waiting to ambush me, Gregor?”

  Gregor knelt back behind the rock. “I wasn’t going to shoot. I could’ve easily killed you if I wanted.”

  He peered over the moss. Charlie’s head shot back behind the tree.

  “We need to finish this, Gregor. Lower your rifle.”

  “Both of us come out after I count to three. Leave our rifles on the ground.”

  “Why should I trust you? You don’t have to pretend to care. Nobody else can see you out here.”

  “You need to get that bomb onto the ship. It’s in all of our interests. I’m arranging a place for you on the shuttle and leading the attack on the farm. Why would I jeopardize the plan?”

  “Because you’re a dick who has no respect for life.”

  Gregor scowled and bit his fist. “The shuttle’s arrived. There won’t be another run until tomorrow morning. If there is another run. You heard what Layla said.”

  A sickly-looking rabbit with greasy fur shuffled between the rock and tree. Time was against all native species. The shuttle would be gone in less than an hour.

  Gregor stood, placed his rifle on the rock, and held his arms out.

  Charlie looked around the tree. He placed his rifle on the ground and stepped out.

  They stood twenty yards apart. Charlie walked to his side. Gregor moved to keep an equal distance until they were ten yards away from their weapons.

  Charlie rolled up the sleeves of his camouflage shirt. Gregor took off his watch. They started circling a large rock, staring at each other.

  “Why did you kill Pippa?” Charlie said.

  “It wasn’t me. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

  “Your mother was a whore. Stop lying. Why did you do it?”

  Gregor winced. He’d slit throats for lesser comments. “I killed the man who did it yesterday morning. You, on the other hand, killed my cousin.”

  “He was collateral damage. I blew up a croatoan building. If you lot didn’t have your tongues stuck up the croatoans’ shit pipes, unlike us survivors—”

  “Stop right there. You won’t get a rise out of me. I did what I needed to keep my team alive. Those humans, livestock, they’re bred for food. They didn’t have a previous life like you or me. I only went after people who attacked my operation.”

  Charlie shook his head, maintaining his cold stare. “You think it’s acceptable? Do you? I mean, deep down in your commie soul?”

  “I’m not a commie, and the ice age froze my soul. We’re never going to agree, so let’s get this plan out of the way and meet back here.”

  “You know I’m not coming back, Gregor. Whenever I think about Pippa, I can’t help seeing your ugly face. Do you think that’s the last thing I want to see up there?” Charlie pointed to the sky.

  Gregor stopped and reached for his pocket. Charlie stopped opposite and narrowed his eyes.

  They walked toward each other. Gregor produced the blue bead necklace and held it toward Charlie. “Here. I think you’ll want this for your journey.”

  Charlie paused. Looked down. He snatched the necklace from Gregor’s hand and briefly closed his eyes. “If you lay a finger on Denver after I’ve gone …”

  “We’ll go our separate ways. You have my word on it. From now on, my enemy’s enemy is my friend.”

  Charlie started walking back toward his rifle. “Let’s do this.”

  ***

  Making their way back to the group, Gregor kept a healthy distance between himself and Charlie. A suspension in hostilities was all they needed. They were never going to be friends. There was too much water under the bridge.

  Four people squatted against trees when he approached. Layla frantically gestured him over when she saw Gregor coming. He quickened his pace and crouched next to her. Charlie stooped on her other side. They briefly glanced at each other, then Layla.

  “How’d it go?” Gregor said.

  “They’re starting work right away. Alex is going to stall the croatoans,” Layla said. She looked at Charlie. “Vlad will help you in the warehouse. He’s going to put some equipment in a container for you. An alien rifle and some oxygen equipment.”

  “What about the farm? Any step-up in security since yesterday?” Gregor said.

  “Some reinforcements came down on a shuttle last night. Just the usual ones, nothing like that thing we saw in Ridgway. Besides Augustus asking them to pressurize the breeding lab, it’s been business as usual.”

  “Breeding lab. You fucking people,” Charlie said. “Can we rely on them?”

  “Augustus’s message put a rocket up their asses. It doesn’t take a genius to work out why he wants to do it.”

  Gregor raised his eyebrows. “Because they’re changing Earth into the middle box?”

  “What’s he babbling about?” Charlie said. He looked at Gregor and slowly said, “They’re doing it because that ship is gonna complete the terraforming process.”

  “I know that,” Gregor said. “I was referring to a scientific experiment. Something that’s probably way above your head.”

  “Look above my head,” Charlie said. “There’s two ships that want to kill us.”

  Layla grabbed Gregor’s sweatered arm and twisted. She did the same with Charlie’s shirt. “Knock it off. The pair of you. Charlie, there isn’t much time; move to the back of the meat-processing building.”

  “We’re both committed; don’t worry about that,” Charlie said. “How will I know the difference between Alex and Vlad?”

  “Alex is a woman,” Gregor said. “You might’ve met Vlad before. I’m not sure.”

  Denver moved over and joined the huddle. “Well? Are we ready to go?”

  “We?” Charlie said. “There is no we. I’m doing this on my own. You’ve always known it.”

  “I’m coming to make sure you get into that container. Once Gregor attacks, I’ll come in from the other side. Add to the confusion.” Denver glanced at Gregor. “Are you okay with that?”

  Gregor raised his left shoulder and pursed his lips. “Fine with
me. I’ll bring the other three in.” He looked at Ben and Maria. Both held their respective weapons and peered through the trees. Hardly Special Forces, but it’d do.

  Charlie walked over to Maria and said something in her ear. She watched him walk away with a genuine look of sorrow, holding out an arm toward him before letting it drop.

  As Charlie passed him, Gregor held out his hand. “Good luck.”

  Charlie stopped, looked into Gregor’s eyes, firmly shook his hand, and slowly nodded.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Charlie and Denver sprinted around the farm facility’s perimeter, keeping to the shadows. Through the trees, they saw the one called Alex stalling a couple of croatoans by the shuttle. They were expecting the next load of meat and root and weren’t happy about the delay.

  “It’s coming,” Alex said, raising her voice and talking slowly as though that would get through to the increasingly agitated croatoan. It raised its hand to the shuttle and nodded its head, indicating that it needed loading.

  Charlie clutched the bomb case to his chest and duck walked to the edge of what Gregor had told him was the meat-processing building. For a moment, Charlie doubted himself, wondered if this wasn’t some sick, elaborate plan on Gregor’s part, but even if it was, it still represented an opportunity to get on that shuttle. Even if he had to kill every last alien and fly the damned thing up there himself.

  Denver took a quick glance around the edge of the building. “We’re clear,” he said, his body pressed against the building, the alien rifle in his hands across his chest. “They’ve gone back to the shuttle. Alex is making her way to the other side of the unit. Are you really sure this is the only way?” Denver asked, looking directly into Charlie’s eyes.

  “You know it is.” It really wasn’t the time to get into another discussion. He understood his son’s hesitation, but this was personal. He wanted to do this. Needed to do this. So much had happened since the day the aliens rose out of the ground. So many people close to him were cruelly killed as nothing more than inconvenient insects.