Garrick: Scifi Alien Invasion Romance (Earth Resistance Book 1)

by Theresa Beachman

  A tall Chittrix caught the full spray of bullets. It fell to the road, barbed legs jerking. The others abandoned the pods and flew at Hardy, their hard, shiny wings filling the air with a terrible buzzing. Garrick let rip with his MP5, the bullets cutting their wings, causing one to falter and plummet earthwards.

  Sawyer’s volleys hit, scattering the Chittrix further apart. Sometimes, a small group like this could be twisted into disarray and eliminated; their strength was usually in sheer numbers. Garrick ducked back behind the window frame, the air tight in his chest. He needed to get closer. While Sawyer continued to fire he sprinted down the stairs and out onto the street, now closer to the alien pod than Hardy.

  They were seeing these pods with increasing frequency now. Glistening, transparent entities that shifted and pulsed before disgorging a splatter of fluid and hatchling Chittrix, spreading the alien infestation quickly through the city. Garrick was near enough. He took aim and fired.

  The pod bulged, then the top section ripped, and fluid spouted out in a greasy torrent packed with creamy, gelatinous bodies. Most shuddered a few times and then were still, not fully developed enough to survive. But one rose up, swaying like a baby cobra, a slash of tiny teeth glinting in the afternoon light. Garrick pulled the machete from his belt and decapitated it with a swift blow. He swallowed bile, bitter in the back of his throat.

  “Don’t hog all the fun,” Hardy protested, jogging the last few feet.

  Garrick shook his head, wiping his machete on his thigh. “I wouldn’t have to if you’d stop doing shit like this.”

  Scutters were retreating now that the larger aliens were no longer there to co-ordinate them, leaving behind the bodies of five Chittrix.

  Foster shouted from the top of the office building where he was perched on the roof.

  Garrick squinted up into the sunlight. “He sounds excited. Let’s go see what he’s found.” He secured his machete and headed over, slivers of Chittrix pod crunching under his boots.

  Garrick and Hardy climbed up the fire escape ladder onto the roof. The tar under the gravel was sticky from the afternoon heat and pulled at Garrick’s feet.

  Foster hopped from one foot to the other as Garrick and Hardy approached. “Where’s Sawyer? He has to hear this.”

  “Hey. I’m getting too old for this shit.” Sawyer topped the fire escape at the other side of the building, pulling his large frame up onto the flat gravel roof. He pointed one sturdy finger. “Better be good Foster, making me climb all this way.”

  Foster blew him a kiss, his lips making a loud smacking sound. He gestured back to the radio, like a child pointing out their Christmas present under the tree. “Listen.”

  He turned the dial, and the grey hiss of static filled the air between them. His fingers expertly twisted in gradual increments, first one way and then the next. He held up his hand for silence as he worked.

  A voice filled the air. Female, well-spoken, and educated. “...survivors. We are located at Magdon Down.”

  Foster flicked the switch to speak.

  “Magdon Down. We hear you. This is Lincoln Foster. Confirm your location please.”

  He released the button. The woman’s voice spoke on, regardless. “… supplies are virtually extinguished…weapons... Is anyone still out there?”

  Sawyer spoke. “It’s a recording. They’re all dead, Foster. We can’t go on wild-goose chases all over the city. Our resources are stretched far enough as it is. We shouldn’t even be this bloody far into the Chittrix zone.”

  Foster shook his head enthusiastically and bounced on the balls of his feet.

  “Magdown Down, Sawyer. Ministry of Defence, Science and Weapons Lab. Top-secret shit. We’re talking chemical, biological, and nuclear research. That’s the party line anyway. It’s also unofficially a weapons development lab, cutting edge like you wouldn’t believe.” He spread his arms wide to demonstrate the enormity of the secret shit he was talking about, then rubbed his hands together in glee. He focused on Garrick, and his face became serious.

  “We need to go. It’s less than a day from here. We can’t pass on this chance. If we go back to base for supplies, it’ll be another three days at least before we return, and by then someone else will have heard the message, gone there, and looted the place and all its secret shit.” He pointed at Sawyer’s knife in his waistband. “That’s all very well and good, but it’s not going to win the war.”

  Sawyer was unimpressed. “Garrick?”

  Garrick dragged his eyes from the northern skyline where the labs Foster was so excited about were located. Smoke hung on the horizon in a suffocating blanket, tendrils extending East and West. It was a risk. They were exhausted and filthy, but much of the weaponry at the CB had been destroyed when the meteorites had fallen. What remained was dated from the eighties when the bunker was built. New and better firepower was tempting.

  As were the tones of the cultured female voice on the recording.

  A hot wave of emotion flashed through him. For a few moments, he was back in the green fields that circled London, spring air in his lungs, blood on his hands, and the screams of his team dying harsh in his ears. The men standing with him now were nothing like the highly-trained squad he had commanded, and yet here they all were, survivors. Still alive six months later. Foster bumped up against him, his breath hot in Garrick’s ear.

  “We need the tech man.”

  Garrick sighed. He was bone-tired, but Foster was right. They needed the weapons and resources to take on the Chittrix. If they were going to have any hope at all of surviving, they needed any advantage they could garner.

  “It’s not my call anymore. We go as a team or not at all,” he answered.

  Foster’s eyes flicked from Sawyer to Hardy. Hardy’s heavy face was covered in a sheen of sweat and grime. “Man, another night sleeping in piles of broken bricks?” He shook his head and shouldered his weapon.

  Garrick stared at Sawyer.

  Sawyer laughed. “Like I’m going to let you rescue the pretty lady all on your own.”

  Garrick contemplated the black clouds gathering over his head, heavy with rain. “Foster, radio base and let them know we won’t be coming back tonight.”

  Foster danced over to the pile of explosives he’d arranged around his watch point. “Done deal then,” he said happily. “Let’s get my bomb picnic packed up and go rescue some ladies.”

  4

  Garrick withdrew the binoculars from his eyes and slid down beside Sawyer. “Bloody hell. There’s Chittrix crawling all over like it’s going out of fashion.”

  They had left the safety of communication with the CB over an hour ago, then parked the Jackal and Coyote Tactical Support Vehicles one mile from the labs; there was already a significant Chittrix presence at that distance.

  In front of them, Magdon Down hunkered, a collection of unassuming, white two-story buildings with red, engineered slate roofs. The central structure had a glass atrium jutting out from its centre like a crooked tooth. Security fencing around the buildings was torn to shreds and hung sagging around the perimeter. Tall Chittrix waded through swarms of Scutters. As he watched, more descended from the skies in an oppressive swarm. Even from this distance, the vibration was heavy in the air, irritating his skin.

  “There’s Chittrix all over the building. No way we can just walk in there.”

  Sawyer pulled a face. “Wanting things too easy in your old age, Garrick?” His hands turned his rifle in a gentle caress, giving Garrick a wide grin.

  Garrick thumbed the receiver on the radio clipped to the side of his head.

  “Foster, where the hell are you?”

  A voice nipped his ear. “Still west of Magdon. Hardy keeps slowing me down.”

  Obscenities peppered the background chaos in Hardy’s broad Irish accent.

  “Chittrix beat us to it. We need to create some kind of distraction.”

  Foster’s voice crackled over the receiver. “Give me ten. Out.” Garrick’s receiver clicked o
ff. He rolled onto his side, checking the view again. Alien insects were all over the building like ants on a jam sandwich, they clearly sensed there was something important inside. There were more Chittrix heaving around the building than they had seen during their entire trip here.

  “They aren’t trying to enter the building. Just milling,” he muttered under his breath.

  “They’re maintaining boundary,” Sawyer said softly next to him. “Like they’re waiting for something.”

  Garrick squinted and ran a frustrated hand across the top of his head. He didn’t like this at all.

  “Something’s up.”

  “Think they heard we were coming?” Sawyer asked.

  Garrick glanced up at the sky above his head, which was thick with flying Chittrix. He shook his head. “No. It’s not us that’s brought them here.” He stared at the main building. “Maybe someone else.”

  They crept from behind the broken building, closer to the entrance road that led to the labs. From here it was only a short sprint, although getting there was increasingly less likely. Scutters were foot-deep near the door.

  Sawyer pointed to the side of the building where a fire escape wound its way up to the roof of the main atrium.

  “That’s our way in.”

  Garrick stared at the building. “That’s where there’s the most Chittrix.”

  Sawyer raised his eyebrows in challenge. “That’s where it’s going to be most fun then.”

  Garrick pressed the transmission button. “Foster?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Setting charges now.”

  Garrick shot a pointed look at Sawyer. “We do this by the book. No crazy shit.”

  Sawyer picked up the large backpack he’d been carrying since they left the jeep. “Crazy shit is all that’s left, man.” He shouldered the bag, adjusting the straps for comfort. With the combination of grey camouflage paint on his face and dust on his clothes, he blended into the grimy desolation of the environment with ease. He bent low and ran sure-footed across the rubble, disappearing into the tree lined access road.

  Garrick turned to check on the Chittrix that were still swarming like wasps intent on a honey pot, crawling directly up the walls of the building and converging on the roof.

  Gunfire and a high-pitched ratcheting noise began to echo from the far side of the building, setting his teeth on edge. Foster wasn’t visible, but from the disarray and scatter of Scutters on the far side of the building, Garrick guessed he was on the roof of a damaged storage unit, two car parks away from the main building.

  Garrick ducked as an explosion rocked the ailing pre-fabricated shell. A crash of disintegration spread across the roof as the sheet metal walls began to shimmer down, piece by screeching piece.

  Scutters shrieked and a whole squadron of Chittrix took off, swooping in a huge crescent above the main building before circling to the source of the explosion.

  Garrick burst from the shadows, running in a low crouch and hammering through clouds of dust spiralling from the explosion. He ducked his head and ran like hell across the concrete road, heading for the fire escape that climbed the side of the building. The air was full of the noise of gunfire and the screaming rattling of Chittrix and Scutters as they swarmed away from the barrage of bullets and debris in confusion and uncertainty.

  Scutters blocked Garrick’s path at the foot of the fire escape, forcing him to pull out his machete and swing at them in wide, unforgiving loops. Acidic liquid sprayed from their bodies and rained on his arms. He wiped the worst off against his cargo trousers as he hacked his way forward.

  Shouting from behind alerted him to Sawyer, who stormed in Garrick’s direction, his knife flashing low and deadly as it cut into the exposed meat of Scutter underbellies. Insect bodies collapsed, ochre-tinted liquid oozing from amputated limbs.

  Garrick’s fist closed on the bottom of the fire escape. He yanked hard, releasing the safety catch. The access ladder dropped down in a screech of rusty metal, shavings of grime falling in his face. He wiped them away with a sweep of his forearm. Yellow liquid dripped from his machete as he secured the blade into his belt.

  A group of Chittrix paused as they passed the front of the building. He didn’t wait to observe their reaction as they spotted Sawyer now climbing the ladder above his head. As the first one changed direction to head them off, Garrick did an automatic one-eighty away from Sawyer’s rapidly disappearing form while keeping the approaching Chittrix in his sight.

  He shouted over his shoulder as he sprinted. “Change of plan, Sawyer. Inside.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply but ran to the rear of the building. It was immense, more substantial from behind than he’d thought from the seventies facade. Windows were set low in the walls at ground level, and he wondered for the first time how far down it went. If it was anything like the subterranean CB, there might be several floors below his feet. Garrick rounded the edge of the building and dodged out of sight.

  Here it was still free of Chittrix and Scutters. A fire escape was set below ground level only a few feet from him, six concrete steps leading down to a grey-painted door. Cobwebs obscured the door frame. He reached for his machete again, a rattle from behind confirming that Chittrix were following. He swung at the glass, hard. The machete bounced clean off. A small chip dislodged itself and fell to the paving stones with a clink.

  Garrick cursed and swung again. The recoil as he hit the glass fired up his arms and neck, knocking his brain against the top of his skull. He tried a third swing, aiming lower on the glass. This time a small crack appeared, snaking from one side to the other. But still, the glass held. He risked a glance round the corner of the building. Chittrix were swarming from the direction he had come, a sea of Scutters surging at their feet.

  Shit.

  He swung again, and the machete bounced, nearly recoiling into his forehead, but the glass protested, and another crack appeared.

  Fuck. Fuck.

  He made several hard, choppy blows in quick succession, gritting his teeth as pain ricocheted up his arms.

  Finally, the glass crumpled inwards, and the machete lodged in the broken frame. He jerked free from the splintered wood and reached inside, feeling for the emergency bar. His fingers closed over the cold, smooth metal and he pushed frantically. He felt a faint click from within the door, and then all hell broke loose as an alarm began to wail in a great wailing crescendo.

  A fierce clicking sounded behind him, causing him to turn just as a winged Chittrix landed only a few feet away. Nearly seven feet tall, its skin was mottled green and grey, its compound eyes a deep, lustrous black. It advanced on him, clicking its mandibles, shrieking while its tail lashed the grass and churned up clods of mud under its feet.

  Garrick turned and threw himself inside the building, the door clattering against the inside wall. He stumbled over the threshold and turned, slamming the door shut behind him. A small fire-axe hung on the inside wall. He rammed it between the safety bar and the door, locking it. The wood shuddered as the Chittrix hurled itself against the closed door, but the axe held it secure. Garrick took a few hesitant steps away from the door with his eyes trained on the axe, listening to the howls of frustration on the other side.

  Finally, he turned and jogged past a sign.

  Weapons Development Laboratory.

  5

  Shrieking alarms tore through the air, shattering Anna’s concentration. She paused for a moment, the medi-pack in her hand forgotten as she raised her eyes to the flashing strobe light pulsing in time with the alarm system. Blue light washed over the bag she was re-packing. As the sound reverberated painfully through her skull, she threw the last few things she needed into her backpack, or bug-out bag, as Julia insisted on calling it. Medical supplies, foil packs of long-life survival biscuits, spare clothes, and a triple-sealed external hard drive containing their combined research over the last four years. Time was running out, and they had been slowly putting these escape bags together over the past week.

  J
ulia had gone to find Blake, her backpack already rammed full with supplies and more copies of their research. Anna checked her watch. It was after six. Julia had been gone for over forty minutes. Where the hell was she?

  Anna muttered obscenities under her breath as she shouldered her heavy pack. Her muscles protested after the exertion of yesterday but eased just as quickly as adrenalin spiked through her system.

  In the last six months, the alarm had never tripped. There was only one explanation. Chittrix or Scutters were in the building.

  The armoury.

  She needed to secure the body armour. She grabbed her pulse rifle. The brief moment of reassurance it gave her dissolved as the alarm continued, making her ears ring.

  Cracking the door open slowly, she scanned the corridor for any sign of intruders. Azure light continued to cycle across the smooth floor, but otherwise, it was empty. Her hands were damp on the door frame as she stepped out and turned left, heading deeper into the building, down the access corridor for the labs. Gripping the banister so that her feet barely touched the floor, she flew down the stairs two at a time. She skidded to a halt on the basement landing, four floors under the building, heart thudding in her chest. Grey light filtered down weakly from above.

  Without warning, the alarm went dead, and silence consumed the air. Blue lights continued to strobe above her head, running off the auxiliary power systems. She waited, listening to the building to tell her what was going on.

  Nothing.

  The access door was ajar. Cautiously, she pushed open the heavy door and stepped through, fighting to keep her breathing under control for fear of alerting anyone or anything to her presence.

  Ahead of her, the passageway stretched out long and straight, the only illumination coming from the strobing blue light behind her. She held the door open, letting as much light as possible into the space ahead. There were four doors: three weapons labs where Julia spent most of her time working on the pulse lasers and acoustic weapons, and the armoury where Anna worked on her biological armour.