Yas leaned down to be able to see through the opening, and let out a satisfied grumble.
They both stared at the same objects, as she did every time she returned there, partly out of a need to reassure herself that it wasn’t all a bad dream, and partly to recall that they had more of a fighting chance than ever before.
The two alien ships settled on their heavy landing gear and stripped of anything that could lead their enemy to their hiding place. They lay under the cover of trees where possible, with scaffolds erected to provide camouflage netting, which draped over the exposed parts and hid them from any prying eye flying overhead. She imagined them powering up, surging upwards from the ground to break away from their disguises and turn east toward the nearest gateway.
“Any news on your friend?” Yas asked, shattering her daydream.
“He’s… he seems upset,” she said quietly. “He saw his uncle killed in front of him, we all did, and I don’t think he’s taken it well.”
Yas grunted, conveying a sense of awkwardness that made her shoot him a questioning look.
“You didn’t mean Cole, did you?” she asked. He shook his head.
“My… friend,” she said, “was barely alive the last time I checked. The doctors here don’t know what’s wrong with it, and others are still trying to decipher the language from their ships to be able to find a way to communicate with it and find out.”
“Will it give the fever to us?”
Lina shook her head and pursed her lips to hide the fact that she didn’t fully believe the doctors who had given their assurances that it could not.
“They say no. It’s like the sickness that animals get but people cannot.” Yas grunted again.
“You think it can help?”
“Imagine our villages were at war,” she said, feeling him stiffen beside her at the mention of it. She held up a calming hand and tried again, softer this time. “Imagine our villages were at war, and you found a way to make all of their people sick without contracting the disease yourself…”
“It is a dishonorable way to—”
“You think the aliens care about honor?” she snapped, instantly regretting the tone of her voice.
“I care about my honor,” Yas answered carefully, “even if others do not.”
“Honor or no honor,” Lina told him with a reassuring arm rested on the bulbous muscle of his shoulder, “we must win. That’s all that matters.”
Chapter 3
Dex
Dex forgot about everything going on for a moment as he drove the highway, windows rolled down and music blaring through the old muscle car’s speakers. It may not have been his first choice for a vehicle, but it would do in a pinch. It turned out there were a lot of options once the majority of the Hunters had been “let go,” as Hansen had put it. That likely meant they’d received a bullet in their heads as a retirement gift, and he tried not to think about it as the Zeppelin song played.
The last few weeks had been hell, but he was glad to finally have some space between him and the damned Gateway. It powered on once a week from what Dex understood, depending on what was coming in and out of the hub. So far, he’d been subtle in asking for details, not wanting to come across as too interested in the aliens’ business. Judging by the lack of information Hansen seemed to have, he didn’t think the self-proclaimed Colonel knew much either.
Dex slowed as he approached the Mackinac Bridge, wary of such a long stretch of unkempt highway over the bodies of water. To his right sat Lake Huron, to his left, Lake Michigan, and today, the sun was bright casting bright reflections from the east.
The bridge was over four miles long, and even from the far end, a few of the old metal support cables dangled to the sides, snapped from weather and disrepair. Winters could be harsh up here, and Dex suspected this highway had seen better days.
He didn’t have a choice. While the Overseers were hauling iron from the mines using hovering freighters, Dex was landlocked in his car, and Hansen had told him to meet at the Iron Mountain facility.
“Here goes nothing,” Dex whispered, pressing his foot to the gas pedal as Robert Plant sang about giving someone his love.
He drove at twenty, carefully avoiding any cracks or rifts in the concrete, and by the time he was halfway over the bridge, his sweating had subsided. Dex glanced at his sleeves, wondering why he chose to wear the leather jacket on a warm morning like today. Summer had continued for a little longer here, and he cranked the fan up a notch.
By the time the song ended, Dex had crossed the bridge, and he took a deep inhale, knowing he’d likely head south once he’d been given his next orders.
The rest of the drive went smoothly. The remarkable lake views snuck past treelines and run-down motels along the way, and in another hour or so, he saw the first derelict sign telling him about the upcoming Iron Mountain Mine tours. Not that he needed the directions.
He stared at the massive floating alien structure, a beam of bright red cutting toward the Earth. The ground shook here, a constant vibration as he guided his modified sixty-seven Camaro toward the mine. Every instinct told Dex to turn around and leave, but he’d promised Tom Mason he’d be the inside man, and after working under these bastards for so many years, he figured his conscience needed this salvation.
To his surprise, the roads were still twinned, even out here in northern Michigan, where the population was insignificant. But he imagined the old mines were part of the reason for the extra lanes, local residents annoyed at the relentless movement of semi-trailers. Dex caught sight of an old railroad, a train parked a quarter mile away with a tree growing through the caboose. For some reason, the sight made him smile, and he almost forgot where he was heading, until his gaze found the skies again.
“What have you gotten yourself into?” he asked himself, and turned the music off, hearing the full noise of the alien mining equipment now. It was a terrible sound, like the grinding of tectonic plates, and he jammed a finger in his ear, trying to block the effect.
He slowed near the mine turnoff and saw the operation more clearly without the tree cover. The structure above the old mine was a mile wide, huge thrusters pressed a blue flame downward, and the red beams appeared to be cutting into the earth.
The beam stopped, and the noise decreased to a thrumming from the thrusters. Dex watched as hovering robots rolled in and out from the massive hole in the earth. The robotic drones floated, each the size of a dump truck, full of the raw iron ore the aliens were so interested in acquiring.
No sense in delaying the inevitable. One of the alien vessels was grounded beside the open excavation, and Dex saw a Hummer beside it. That matched Hansen’s style.
A minute later, Dex drove beside the other vehicle, throwing his car into park, and he stepped out, feeling vulnerable as he saw the group of aliens stalking the mine perimeter. They were wearing some kind of dark gray skein, their muscles and bones protruding from the material. For the first time, Dex noticed how different the aliens could appear.
They inhaled while talking and clicked the devices away.
“Lambert, what the hell took you so long?” Hansen’s distinct lisp carried across the grounds.
“Did some sightseeing,” Dex joked, but the man didn’t smile. Which was fine by Dex, since his scarred face was even harder to look at when he showed his teeth.
Dex wished that Tom had finished the job all those years ago, then the Reclaimers leader might still be alive, and the world would be a different place. Wishes are for the dead, Dex thought.
“Stop messing around.” Hansen’s gaze rose over Dex’s shoulder to the aliens behind him. The Occupation’s human leader was clearly tense; a sheen of sweat clung to his forehead like a banner.
“Sorry, sir. Trip was slow going. That old highway hasn’t held up so well,” Dex told him, and Hansen only nodded idly.
“Walk with me,” Hansen said. Dex noticed the man’s hand was never far from the gun strapped in his chest holster, and Dex didn’t
blame him. His own Glock was under his leather coat, where he’d be able to access it quickly.
Dex followed the man around the giant alien vessel and toward the mine’s edge. The skies were crystal clear, not a cloud in sight, and the sun beat down as it began its trip to the western horizon. Beyond the mine were overgrown fields to the right, a dense forest of spruce and birch to the left.
“You know, these old mines were thought to be empty. Either that or they found cheaper ways to process it back in the day.” Hansen pointed to the ground, where Dex could see veins of dusty red ore. The walls of the mine were ridged, and old roadways ran along the outskirts where trucks had once hauled the supplies in and out. Now they were irrelevant, as the alien transporters were able to fly.
“There wasn’t much talk about mining where I grew up,” Dex said, realizing he knew nothing about Hansen, other than he’d betrayed Tom and Travis early on. That told Dex about as much as he needed to know.
“The Overseers have them all over the planet.”
“So they’re stripping us, hey?” Dex asked.
“Sure, but what will it matter? We’re going to be…”
“On an island, right?” Dex was dubious.
“You don’t believe it?” Hansen asked, his gaze still on the mining operation below.
“I don’t know what to believe, but if there’s a chance we can survive this, I’m in,” Dex lied.
Hansen patted him on the back and nodded. “Good. Which brings me to your next job.”
Dex didn’t like the segue but waited for the orders.
“There was an agri-facility in Wisconsin we shut down a month ago. Some of them may have escaped during the purge, and I want you to go there and deal with it.” Hansen met his stare now, his face unreadable.
“Deal with it. Understood.” Dex was aware of what the man wanted. “How do you propose I do that?”
“You’re an industrious man. You’ll figure it out,” Hansen said, and Dex jumped as the red beam began cutting through the sky, striking the mine below.
“I’ll need a tablet to communicate.” Dex had to shout over the noise, and Hansen waved him to follow along as he walked from the gaping hole, toward a metal structure a few hundred yards away. As they entered and shut the door, the noise from outside was partially blocked, and Dex could almost hear again.
“This will allow you to communicate with me.” He passed an alien-looking radio to Dex, who raised an eyebrow as he clutched it. “You tap the icon here.” Hansen pressed the screen, and it sprang into life. Dex paid attention as he was given the instructions.
“I’ll still need a tablet.”
“Why?”
“What about the drones? Aren’t you worried about them being in someone else’s control?” Dex asked.
“Nonsense. I killed that fool, and no one saw his message. You know why? Because we’d already disabled our facilities by then. If the Overseers aren’t worried about a ragtag group of Vermin, neither should we. Capiche?” Hansen’s lisp was more pronounced, his forehead sweating droplets.
“Clear as day. But I think…”
“Fine.” Hansen crossed the room, unlocking a desk drawer, and passed a tablet to Dex. “I can trust you, right, Lambert?”
Dex didn’t hesitate. “Of course you can, sir. You and me. We’ll be sipping little fruity drinks on the beach in no time.”
A flicker of something crossed Hansen’s face before he gave Dex one of his frightening smiles. He wiped a hand on his blue suit and stuck it out, Dex shaking it quickly. “If you do these few jobs well, we’ll be able to make it there sooner than later.”
“Where are the others?” Dex asked, noticing there were no other humans visible at the mine.
“They’re doing their own tasks. Each mine has one of us watching over the procedures,” Hansen told him.
Dex wondered if the details were outlined in his tablet, and slid the device into his jacket’s oversized pocket. “Sounds good.”
“Care for something to eat or drink?”
“I won’t decline some coffee and a few waters to take with me, but other than that, I’d just as soon be on the road,” Dex told him truthfully.
“Right this way.”
Ten minutes later, Dex was heading east, glad to be leaving the loud mining efforts, and took one last glance into his rearview mirror, seeing the red beams still cutting into the ground. He wanted to stop the car, to examine the tablet and try to gain an understanding of the current state of the Occupation, but he needed a few miles between him and the hundreds of aliens first.
He took a sip from his coffee cup, thankful for the dark strong brew.
Chapter 4
Alec
The room was stuffy, and Alec moved to the small window to open it wide. A gentle breeze sent fresh air inside, and he stood there for a moment before taking his seat. Gregory Zhao frowned at him and peered at his daughter.
“As I was saying, this is going to be a difficult venture, but I have confidence…”
“Would have helped if you had confidence before Tom was killed,” Cole muttered, and the room grew silent. Cole didn’t back down. “We’re all thinking it. You’ve been content to hide out here while Tom was doing the dirty work. Good people like Soares and Monet here busting their hump and sticking their necks out for the cause, while you grow tomatoes and breathe fresh ocean air.”
Alec turned to Cole, shaking his head, but his brother didn’t appear to notice.
Zhao stared at Cole for a moment, his chin lowering to rest on his chest. “You’re right. You are a thousand percent right, my boy. That’s why I’m helping now. It’s the only thing I can do. Will it bring back Tom? No. Will it bring back my sister, or your parents, or all the damned people we’ve lost along the way?” Zhao’s voice rose, his posture stiffening. “But we’re going to try, and that’s enough.”
Cole relaxed in his chair, and Alec felt the tension leave the room. Izzy was beside him in the makeshift meeting space. There were some stacked crates in the corner, an extra lamp added to the desk to increase the light in the storage facility. They gathered around the folding tables, lined up beside each other, and Alec shifted his glance, seeing various expressions from everyone
Yas sat beside Lina, his hulking presence countered by his soft and amiable voice. The two Roamers, Renata and her daughter Marisol, were present, and Alec noticed the younger watching his brother.
Soares sat beside Monet at the far end of the tables, with the two pilots, Becca and Whittaker, opposite them, turned in their seats to watch Zhao at the wall, looming over the gigantic map spread along the wooden surface.
Doctor Parvati was beside Alec. She hadn’t said a word since entering the room, and Alec suspected her thoughts were consumed with her patients in the medical facility. Scott, the ex-police officer, sat beside Bailey, Tom’s third in command, rounding out the group.
Zhao continued. “We have an influx of people coming into our haven, and this is bound to attract attention at some point. We’re working on finding a secondary location we can use as a backup, and I’ve sent a dozen scouts out, mostly heading north along the coast toward Oregon, and perhaps on to Washington state after that.
“These are some long-term issues that might turn short-term if we’re discovered, or if we keep receiving the steady stream of newcomers.” Zhao took a sip from his water glass and cleared his throat. “We have tactical issues to decide on, and I’m going to hand the floor over to Captain Soares to discuss. Keep in mind we don’t need to argue about any of the topics. I think everyone in this room can hold a civilized conversation, and if you can’t, you’ll be asked to leave.” Zhao peered at Cole.
Soares rose and crossed the floor, standing at the map while Zhao took a seat. “We failed.” The words hung in the air for a moment before he kept going. “We had a mission, and that was to shut the Gateway down. We didn’t do that, even with some help from new friends.” The captain glanced at the Roamers. “But Tom did something special; h
e sacrificed himself so we might have a future. Without his bravery, we wouldn’t have met Jack Paulson, or Sylvie. We wouldn’t have the Freeborns or any of the others working with us now.”
“He didn’t need to die,” Cole whispered, and Soares leaned over the table, palms resting on the surface.
“Cole. Your uncle was already dying. You knew that. He had cancer, and it was so bad, he could hardly get up some mornings. Let us remember his life, and his purpose, and give him this.” Soares’ voice was calm but passionate.
Alec remembered the coughing and the redness of his eyes. Every time he’d asked his uncle about it, he’d deflected, but he’d understood the truth, at some level, the entire time.
“What does this mean?” Soares asked. “It means we have new objectives. What details can we know are factual?”
“We know the Gateway is open,” Alec said.
“Right. We also suspect there are more than one of these gateways on Earth. Jack and Sylvie are working on confirming this. What else?”
“We have control of the drones,” Izzy said.
“Bingo. Which tells us they either don’t know how to reprogram their robots, or they don’t care,” Soares said.
“We found out they need misters to breathe and survive on Earth.” Doctor Parvati spoke for the first time.
“Very good.”
“The factories are in China,” Zhao told them.
Soares nodded, scribbling the details on a whiteboard with a red felt marker. His handwriting was nearly illegible, but Alec got the point.
“Then it’s clear what we have to do,” Monet said from the far side of the table.
Soares motioned for her to stand, and she did, pacing in front of the map. “We need to head to China, mess up their supply.”
Rise | Book 3 | Reclamation Page 3
