“Time’s another funny thing, isn’t it?” Charlie said, inching back away from the sword’s point. He got a good look at it now and the hilt and recognized it as Roman design. “Funny how you’re here in this advanced space craft, and yet you’ve had your quarters decorated in such an old style. Have a thing for the Roman Empire, do you? Fancy yourself as an emperor?”
Augustus laughed now, throaty and genuine. He lowered to his haunches, staring at Charlie with his one good eye. It was then that Charlie noticed how old he looked. Though his visible skin appeared in good condition, that eye was something else. It contained the years of someone who had seen so much more than they should have.
“Fancy myself? You fool, Jackson. I am one. Was one. Will be one again. But you’re right about time. There was a time when I thought my time was over. Time, however, isn’t linear like we think. Oh no, Mr. Jackson, it’s pliable if you’re willing to wait.”
“And what exactly have you been waiting for?” Charlie said, wondering whether he was pushing things too quickly, the tip of the blade still within striking distance of his throat. The bomb lay just ten feet away. All he needed to do was open the flap on the bag and press his finger to the touchscreen.
Ten seconds later, and it’d all be over.
A tiny flicker in time is all it would take.
“I’ve waited for this moment, Mr. Jackson. This point in time when I slay the rebellion and make amends for the collapse of one empire and start another.”
Augustus turned his face to regard something on the display wall, exposing his side profile. Charlie’s mind itched with recognition. There was something familiar about him. Someone he had seen or read about. “Just who are you?” Charlie asked as Augustus looked back at him with a smile.
“If I told you, you would think me a madman.”
“I already do.”
Augustus inclined his head and brought the sword back to his side, unable to keep the weighty weapon in place. “I am Flavius Julius Valens Augustus, eastern Roman Emperor, Last True Roman.”
Charlie let it sink in for a moment as he scrambled away, putting his back against the wall and bringing his knees up to his chest. Augustus, or Valens, stepped forward, blocking off his routes. Looking around the exacting detail of the place, the sword, and that recognizable face, Charlie wondered if the croatoans had perhaps cloned him or brainwashed him into thinking this, but for what reason? What purpose would that serve?
But beneath all that was the history. Charlie had studied the Roman Empire and knew full well who Emperor Valens was: the brother of his co-emperor Valentinian—the pair who signaled the collapse of the Empire. His body was never recovered at the battle of Adrianople. Many scholars assumed he had died in battle after removing his imperial robe and running headlong into combat, while others suggested he was burned by the barbarians at the behest of their leader Fritigern.
Charlie had his own theory.
“I don’t understand,” Charlie said. “How is that even possible?”
“They were always here, watching us, waiting,” Augustus said. “I’m sure you read about what happened in Adrianople.”
“It was a crushing loss for the Romans,” Charlie said. “Humiliating, in fact. Valens was rumored to have left the field of battle, unable to face the catastrophic consequences of losing to the Goths. Others said Valens was a traitor, a coward.”
The smile on Augustus’s face twitched at the edges and his hand gripped the hilt of the sword tighter. He leaned down until his face was inches from Charlie’s. “I survived, Mr. Jackson. Something you know a great deal about. Doesn’t matter how you do it, you survive, breathe another day.”
“So tell me then, how did you stand the test of time? Was it cryogenics? Cloning?”
“Neither. You remember the pods that rose up from within the Earth? I’m sure you realize now how ancient they were. Put two and two together, Mr. Jackson. It can’t be that difficult to understand. Now, before I run you through, tell me, why come here now? Look out there; you see it, don’t you? The ship that will change the world, remove the human disease from its surface. It’s too late for you now. Your time has come to an end.”
Augustus brought the sword back to Charlie’s throat, pushing the tip in until it broke the skin, pressing against his windpipe, cutting off his air. “I came for one reason only,” Charlie said with a whisper as he squeezed the words out.
He reached up and grabbed the sword, but instead of pushing it away like Augustus was expecting, Charlie pulled it in, driving the sword further into his neck, but at the same moment unbalancing the old emperor.
Charlie capitalized on the move by grabbing his toga and yanking him toward him while simultaneously striking out with his legs, catching Augustus in the calves. The emperor toppled forward as Charlie slid to the side.
Augustus hit the wall with a heavy thud. His mask fell off and clattered to the floor. Charlie held his breath as he pulled the sword free, dropping it to the floor. On hands and knees, he crawled frantically like a cockroach to the backpack.
He reached out and grabbed one of the cut handles, pulling it close to him. Undoing the flap, he reached inside and pulled out the bomb. He spun it over, exposing the touchscreen. He brought his hand down and pressed his finger to the glass screen.
It beeped once for confirmation.
Charlie rolled onto his back as Augustus rose to his feet.
“What have you done?” Augustus said, looking down at Charlie, not understanding what he was smiling about. The emperor’s face was gnarled and twisted, and Charlie realized the truth to him being burned.
A part of Charlie took great pleasure in knowing that he’d destroyed an emperor.
“They all crumble,” Charlie wheezed, coughing out blood between each word.
“Crumble? What?”
“Empires. They all eventually run out of time.”
Charlie coughed once and passed out. The last image he had was of Augustus reaching for his neck with his hands. But like before, he was too late.
The time was now.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sitting on the steps to Gregor’s office, Denver held Maria’s hand. Together, they watched the skies. A tense quiet had descended since the last of the croatoans were put down. The only noise came from the groaning and shuffling of the now-free humans, led by the now-conscious Alex, into one of their shelters. She’d only taken a glancing blow from a croatoan rifle. Vlad wasn’t so lucky.
Denver blinked, waited, and watched the mother ship’s pink circles, like alien eyes staring down at the Earth. They remained bright, still working. He pictured Charlie stuffed inside the container, the bomb tightly held as he waited for his time.
“What if he was caught before he had the chance?” he said.
Maria squeezed his hand and leaned in. “He’ll make it, I’m sure. I might have been only outside of the harvester for a few days, but one thing I’ve learned is that if your dad wants to do something, there’s no one who could stop him.”
Denver glanced in Gregor’s direction.
The old gangster, Charlie’s nemesis, stood with Layla by the alien hover-bikes. They seemed eager to leave, but Denver didn’t know where they expected to go. Nothing was settled yet. The people on the farm still needed to be cared for.
“Thinking of skipping out on us?” Denver said, raising his voice so they could hear him. He kept the alien rifle close by his side, one hand on the stock, ready to lift it into place within a fraction of a second.
Gregor tutted and looked away, not even trying to hide the disdain on his face.
Layla, however, stepped away and approached him. Her eyes were glossy and red. Dirt stained her otherwise unblemished face. Wiping a rogue hair from her forehead, she stood over him, casting a shadow.
Unlike Gregor, she wore no expression of disdain but rather sympathy, pity even. “I’m sorry for everything,” she said, regarding them both. “I’m sorry about your dad, Charlie. And you, Maria, I’
m sorry that you’re the only one left from the harvester crew. I don’t know how much they taught you about grief and death during your education, but I just wanted you to know that I understand what it feels like. I lost everything and everyone I knew during the invasion.”
Maria brought her hands to her face as she sobbed, the pent-up emotion over the last few days finally coming out. “I can’t believe they’re gone,” she said between ragged breaths. “We’ve only just got free, and now Ethan and Ben are gone, leaving me behind. Why me?”
“It has to be someone,” Denver said. “We need the strong to survive, and as far as I could tell in all this, you were the strongest of that group. I’m sorry your friends and colleagues didn’t make it, but we’ve all had to make sacrifices. It’s how the world is now.”
“Holy shi—” Gregor turned to face the ship in the distant sky. Denver and the two women looked up.
The mother ship’s underlights faltered, flickered, and became dull. A fraction of a second later, they heard the boom rip through the sky. The sound pressure hit Denver in his chest, rattling his organs inside.
Debris and hull wreckage blew out of the right-hand side of the round ship near the top where it had docked with the gargantuan new addition. The explosion continued to roar as the cloud of metal and smoke and flame continued to billow out.
All the lights on the various buildings of the farm went out. Maria squeezed Denver’s hand as they both stood to watch the devastation above them.
“Motherfucker’s done it … Goddamn,” Gregor shouted over the noise. Almost half of the ship had blown away, leaving a ragged wound stretching front to the back, bisecting the craft and exposing its innards through the flames.
The whole thing tilted now that its anti-grav projectors were useless. The weight of the terraform ship docked to its top pitched almost ninety degrees up.
“It’s coming down. Oh my God, it’s really coming down,” Layla said.
Throughout all this, Denver had remained quiet, his breath caught in his throat. A single tear fell down his cheek in both joy and an unending sadness at the loss of his courageous father. The one person whom he truly loved had done it: traded his life for a chance of freedom for all.
“He’s done it,” Maria said, hugging Denver around his neck. “He’s really done it.”
The sky turned black with the smoke. Thick, rolling clouds of alien technology melted by the nuke. Tinges of orange compound tainted the atmosphere as it burned up in the fire that had taken hold of both ships. The blast had torn away a huge section across the underside of the terraform ship.
It seemed to take an eternity, but eventually, a second explosion roared out as both ships crashed into the earth. Although they fell beyond the horizon, they could still see the cloud rise into the sky from the impact. Denver felt it too in the ground, the ripples feeling much like an earthquake. It reminded him of the stories Charlie had told him about what it felt like when one of their infernal machines created a sinkhole.
“Payback, you bastards,” Denver whispered as he picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He walked off, leaving the other three behind.
“Hey, wait,” Maria said. “Where you going?”
Without turning back, Denver said, “To the next farm. Freedom starts here.”
***
The smell of fire was thick in the air even hours after the initial impact. Denver approached his truck and slid into the driver’s seat. Pip appeared out of nowhere, having scarpered to safety hours earlier. She curled up in the middle space between the front seats and placed her head on his leg. She whined mournfully.
“I know, girl. I know.”
Denver patted her on the head, smoothing her fur, all the while trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. He couldn’t break down now. His dad would want him to go on, finish what he started, and that was just what he was going to do. Even if he had to do it on his own.
The engine fired, and he reversed the truck out from its hidden position within a tight group of bushes, backing it onto a dirt track that would lead out of the forest. He slammed on the brakes as he saw a silhouette appear in his rearview mirror.
Reaching for the pistol he kept in the door tray, Denver wound down the window and looked out. The shape moved toward him in the evening gloom. He opened the door with his free hand while keeping the pistol low, ready to fire.
The person crunched twigs and leaves as they approached the driver’s side. Denver raised the gun and was about to shoot when a voice called out to him.
“Denver, it’s me, Maria. Don’t shoot!”
He lowered the gun immediately as she stepped close enough for him to see that it was her. “You followed me? I thought you’d stay with the others at the farm.”
“There was a change of plan,” Maria said, smiling.
More movement came from behind him as two more people stepped out of the shadows. “Layla, Gregor?”
Gregor grinned when he stepped forward, placing his arm over Maria’s shoulders. “Your lady here seems to think we ought to stick together. Now don’t get me wrong. I still don’t like you, but you don’t seem too much like your old man, and I like the way you shoot. What say we pool our resources?”
“What about all the people on the farm? The pregnant women?”
“Taken care of,” Layla said. “Alex was okay, just got knocked out. She’s staying behind to look after them. No point moving them if they’re comfortable there. The plan is to join up with Eastern Farm Twenty a hundred kilometers from here. They’ve got reinforcements. We just need to get word and start the fight back.”
Denver saw an excited look in Layla’s eyes, not at the death of yet more aliens, but at the thought of freeing more people. Gregor’s expression just seemed bloodthirsty, as usual, but every resistance needed its psychopaths to do the jobs ordinary people with morals wouldn’t be comfortable doing.
He thought about it for a moment. The three of them stared at him expectantly, waiting for his decision.
That’s when it dawned on him.
It was his resistance now. He was the one to lead this.
Instead of that prospect frightening him, it gave him a new shot of energy. After all, it was what his dad, Charlie Jackson, the Last True American, had spent all his time teaching Denver: how to be him. How to be the survivor. How to never give up and never stop until humankind was once again free from tyranny.
“Get in,” Denver said. “We leave now.”
Maria walked around and got into the front passenger seat. Gregor and Layla jumped into the rear after stashing a bunch of weapons in the truck bed.
Denver looked at Maria and smiled. “I’m glad you followed me,” he said.
“Me too.”
He held her gaze for a few seconds before turning to the others in the back. Talking to everyone now, he said with a grim tone, “Did everyone see what I saw before the initial explosion?”
They stared back at him in silence. Eventually, Maria asked, “What? What did you see?”
“At first I thought they were bits of debris, perhaps from the initial explosion, but their trajectory was all wrong. I only realized after, once the shock wore off. There were six of them. Pods, crafts, whatever you want to call them. Either way, some of the bastards up there escaped and came to Earth. Probably digging into the ground as we speak to recuperate. Well, we’re not going to let them this time.”
Denver turned back to face the front and engaged first gear. “This time, we’re going to hunt them down and murder the bastards in the dirt before they think about rising again.”
With that, he floored the accelerator and headed out into the night, promising to himself he’d do his dad proud. One way or another, the aliens would regret ever coming to Earth.
Click here to get Book 2: Critical Path.
Acknowledgments
We would like to thank our cover designer, Jason Gurley, and our editors, Aaron Sikes, Monique Happy and Amanda Shore. Also, big thank
you to everyone who agreed to read an early copy and give us your thoughts. Collectively, you’ve all helped make this a better book.
Thank you!
About The Authors
Two heads are often better than one. Darren Wearmouth and Colin F. Barnes joined forces in 2013 to write thrilling tales of science and adventure with characters we can all relate to. Exploring the ‘what if’ scenarios of the post-apocalypse and where advanced technology will takes us, Wearmouth & Barnes seek to bring unique experiences to readers.
Website: http://www.wearmouthbarnes.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/UtlZD
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wearmouthbarnes
Critical Dawn Page 30
