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

by Theresa Beachman

  “Where now?”

  Her question derailed his thoughts.

  “Northwest. We’ve come south on the water, and we need to pull ourselves back up at bit.” He looked to the sky. No Chittrix for now, but the sun had broken through, feeble rays playing across his face. He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the play of light across his eyelids.

  Anna squeezed his hand. “Let’s move before we freeze to death.”

  27

  Anna stripped off her shirt, letting the weak sunlight hit her bare arms. Her clothes slowly dried as she walked, chafing her thighs in the process but the skin on her torso was still chilled from the wet fabric hidden under her body armour.

  She walked slightly in front of Garrick, needing to be alone after the near miss with the scavengers. He wanted her, she was sure of that, but there was something else. Some of the warm fuzziness she had been feeling since the morning was beginning to fade, replaced by numbing reality.

  This was a fantasy, the two of them flung together for a few days, colliding for a moment in time. Once they returned to his base she’d be working and so would he. She glanced over her shoulder and absorbed him, his hard, dark leanness, and his long legs effortlessly eating up the ground, MP5 slung low. His damp cargos clung to his hips as he walked.

  God.

  She liked it far too much. Hot need pooled in her belly, filling her with an ache that only he could satisfy. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shut him out of her mind. She wanted him. All of him, but she didn’t know if she could give him what he deserved. She’d spent her whole life isolated. Deep down, if she admitted it to herself, she was scared to try. She’d lost that ability years ago, if she’d ever had it. Being alone. It was what it was, but at least it was familiar and safe. Whereas Garrick was uncharted territory, a wild landscape with no guidebook.

  They progressed along a narrow, one-track road that curved between derelict fields sprouting a chaotic mix of overgrown Earth crops and weird intrusions of alien plant life. Tall grasses grew above their heads in a rainbow of motley colours: purple, black, and green, sticky twists of mucilage dripping from the tops of their stems and trapping anything that came within touching distance. Twisted red and purple flowers shaped like upside-down umbrellas danced in small gusts of wind, deceptively pretty for carnivorous plants.

  Anna looked away. She had spent a lot of time in the labs trying not to be grossed out by all the ways the new alien plants had perfectly evolved to eat anything that moved or breathed. A sparrow landed on one of the purple flowers, balanced for a second, and then was sucked into the bladder-trap of blooms. There was a muffled squawk, and then the crunching of small bones as the vacuum compressed its tiny body.

  Garrick stopped beside a low-slung, five-bar field gate on their right. On the other side of the gate, a rippling expanse of red and yellow grasses undulated in the wind, settling against each other with a rough hiss. Taking in the blue National Trust sign next to the gate, Anna guessed this common had been a nature reserve. Still was if you included alien species. It stretched towards the horizon in one long, endless sea of vegetation.

  Garrick offered a sip from his water bottle. She shrugged her backpack off for a few moments and took the bottle, grateful for the warm liquid on her parched mouth. She tried to read the sky above her. It was a peerless blue, and the temperature had ramped up. What was going on with the weather? It was all over the place.

  She reached out and ran her fingers across the angular bones of his cheek. His skin was warm, the soft buzz of hair on the back of his head already familiar under her fingertips. He closed his eyes and dipped his head, enjoying her touch. Eventually, his eyes opened and he smiled at her. Her stomach looped one-eighty.

  He exhaled, tension lines dissolving from his forehead as she continued to stroke the back of his neck. “If you keep doing that, we’ll never get there.”

  “I can but hope,” she replied, her cheeks heating.

  He grinned in reply then he stashed his water out of sight and rechecked his map. Creases of fatigue marked the corners of his eyes. She wanted to smooth them away with her fingers, kiss away the tiredness.

  He stabbed at the map with one finger. “Chittrix activity is intense here. We should go cross-country. It’s quicker and safer. We can cut straight though.” He folded the map before climbing onto the five-bar gate and leaning into the field of grasses. The rustling grew louder as he bent over.

  “You seen anything like this before?”

  Anna shook her head and joined him, stepping onto the first bar of the gate to get a better view. She craned her neck, looking past the succulent tangle of stems and grasses. Between the new species, spindly strands of pale grains struggled for light, clearly fighting a losing battle. The alien plants were robust and sturdy in comparison, unbending canes of scarlet and black peppered with muddy green.

  “I’ve seen smaller versions in cracks in the road. Julia harvested them. Some are highly toxic. She was considering incorporating them into her weaponry. If—”

  Anna’s words hung in the air as images of Julia, being pulled from the building by the stocky soldier, assaulted her. Her work was incomplete. Julia still had plenty to contribute to fighting the Chittrix.

  “When,” she corrected herself. “When we find her, she can finish her work.”

  As if response to her words, a wave of motion swept through the vegetation in front of them, a sibilant hiss in a wisp of breeze.

  “Toxic?”

  Anna nodded. “Mostly to smaller animals from what I’ve seen. Birds, mice, cats.”

  “Cats?”

  “Yeah.” She didn’t want to remember that one.

  Garrick sighed and ran his fingers across the top of his skull, fingertips pressing his temples. Swinging his leg over the top of the gate, he stood for a moment then extended his hand to her.

  Crap. They were going through, not round.

  28

  Garrick pushed his way through the greenery in front of Anna. He wasn’t taking any chances by letting her go first. He wanted her close to him, safe and protected. He took his time, checking over his shoulder to make sure she didn’t drop too far behind. He needn’t have worried. She shadowed his path through the crowded, rubbery stems of grass. Stalks flexed under his touch, yielding in a supple, resilient way that made him want to wash his hands.

  As they progressed into the field, the plants became taller. The ground was bumpy with dried earth that crumbled under his feet, unbalancing him, so they moved slowly, taking time to shift the grasses without cutting them. He let his machete hang loosely at his side, not wanting to provoke the plants by cutting, but unwilling to sheath it here where he could only see two damn inches ahead of him.

  She stumbled against him more than once, so in the end, he took her hand for the rougher sections, keeping her body tight to his so they functioned more efficiently as one unit. As they walked, he tried not to appreciate her breasts bumping against him whenever she misplaced her footing. Images of her wrapped round his waist only hours before flashed into his mind’s eye, and his cock surged. She was a Grade-A distraction.

  Before long, grasses were above their heads, seriously restricting their vision, tying painful knots of stress in Garrick’s shoulders. Despite the fact that the towering vegetation concealed them, they were effectively blind and vulnerable. He scanned the moving plants for any sign of an ambush or alien activity, but focusing on the moving stems made his eyes ache. Convinced they were not the only ones moving through this sea of grass, his skin tingled with the anticipated threat. But there was nothing to do but ignore it and forge ahead.

  He consulted his compass yet again to make sure they were still heading west, the thin red arrow wavering tremulously. It would be so easy to end up walking in circles, the plants pressing closer and closer. Pollen dusted his arms, drifted into his eyes and hair. It was in his nostrils, scratchy and dry, powdery in his mouth.

  Behind them, there was no longer any evidence of a pa
th. Leaves and fronds had closed around them like a living curtain, tight and oppressive. His lungs fought the sensation, competing for air. There were no animal sounds: no birds, no chattering of small creatures. Just the creak and hiss of the tall plants. He tried not to think about when he’d read Day of the Triffids as a child – without much success. Every nerve-end in his body shrieked at him. It wasn’t if something was going to happen but when.

  The heat of the day was intensified as if the alien foliage was generating its own energy. Garrick started to push stalks out the way with the point of his blade, no longer wanting to touch them with his hands. Anna tugged on him, wanting to examine the leaves, buds, and blooms that hung over them like over-sized silk lampshades.

  “Are these plants are a coincidence?” he asked.

  “Coincidence?” She frowned, concentration illuminating her face.

  God, she was beautiful when you asked her something science-y, small white teeth pressed down on her lower lip. He glanced away as images of his own teeth pressing into that lush lower lip rushed into his mind.

  “Julia thought they were starting to seed the planet.” She gestured at the vegetation. “Blake said it was more about assimilation.” Her face went dark as she remembered the other scientist from Magdon Down. Given the man was disabled, Garrick thought it unlikely Blake was still alive. But he hadn’t said as much.

  She continued, her head tilted as she examined a scarlet bloom with wafer-thin, pendulous petals. “From the small fragments he deciphered, Blake said it wasn’t about war or anything as crass as that. It was about absorption. Plain and simple. Seeding Earth with their home flora. They come here. They make it their own. Julia and I found some growing in the roof gutters outside the labs. They were just little, nothing like the big ones here.”

  She pushed away a serrated fern with the cuff of her sleeve. Ridged spines along the top of each leaf caught and tugged at the fabric of her clothes, resisting her progress with an apparently innocuous passivity.

  “Then we discovered that virtually all of the plants we analysed were at least partly carnivorous.” She gestured to a rich-purple, oval bloom in front of her, picked up a dry stalk of grass, and trailed it across the lip of violet petals. After a few seconds, the flower trembled and shook.

  Checking he was paying attention, her expression was serious as she spoke. “Watch.”

  As he did, the flower folded in on itself like a silk scarf being drawn into a vacuum.

  “Suffocation. Nice.”

  Her head bobbed in agreement. “There are other lovely variations. Pretty gross, most of them.” She gestured ahead to where a tall plant with yellow blooms shaped like elongated trumpets swung in the air. Red splotches speckled the inside of the bloom. “Big enough to catch small mammals.” She cast her eyes around. Picking up a small stick, she tossed it into the yellow blossom.

  Garrick raised his eyebrows when nothing happened.

  Anna thinned her lips and gave him a reprimanding stare. “Wait.”

  Suddenly the whole plant gave an enormous shudder. The yellow flower clamped completely flat, convulsing as it pulverised the wood. Then, without warning, the yellow petals shot inside the green calyx. Nothing remained, apart from the small, green cup.

  He stood in silence, machete hanging loosely at his side. His shirt was stuck to his back from the stifling humidity and the snugness of the armour. He tried to assimilate the fact that all the plants around him were carnivorous. He squinted upwards, the sun was no longer overhead. “It’s going to be getting dark soon. We don’t want to be here when it does. Let’s keep moving.”

  He needed to get her to the safety of the base, and soon. His stomach lurched, at the thought of what would happen once they were back at the base, surrounded by other people and day-to-day normality. Here she was scared and let him keep her safe. Would that all change once they were somewhere where there was ‘normal’ life? His emotions were rusty and awkward. And yet, even after such a short period of time, walking away from her would tear him apart. He fumbled in his pocket for the map.

  According to his navigation skills, they should be walking through a small village by now, but he’d seen no evidence of any kind of habitation. Anxiety vibrated in his veins. Something wasn’t quite right, but what it was exactly eluded him.

  Anna squeezed his shoulder.

  “Did you hear that?” Her breath was warm torture against his skin.

  “What?” His eyes searched the grasses. Rattling blades and vertiginous stems pressed in on them from all sides. A living, breathing cage.

  “I thought I heard chittering. Like the Scutters, but higher-pitched.”

  A black insect form suddenly launched at them from the undergrowth. It was the size of a small dog, with enormous curved mandibles stretched wide in a hungry grimace. A thick armour plated tail whipped wildly, slicing through the air, aiming for Anna’s neck.

  Garrick instinctively brought up his forearm to deflect it, shoving Anna out its trajectory. It lashed at him, its tail slicing through the flesh and dressing on his right arm. He cursed, grabbing the thickest part of the spiny tail and flung it to the earth, ignoring the barbs piercing the palm of his hand. He lunged forward before it escaped, stamping on it with the full force of his body. The carapace shattered under the weight of his boot, body fluids exploding and splattering in a shower over his arms and legs.

  “Garrick. Watch out.” Anna grabbed his bleeding arm, pulling him away from the open flower heads.

  He staggered against her. “What?”

  “Pollen. It’s all over your arms, and you’ve got an open wound.”

  Garrick bent his head, checking his arm. The dressing Anna had applied was torn open, fresh slashes now accompanying the still raw wounds from the day before. A blanket of golden pollen dusted the lacerations, soaking up the blood into bobbled, spongy clots.

  Beside him, Anna threw her backpack to the ground.

  “Belt off. Now,” she ordered.

  “I’m flattered but—”

  “Off!” She delved into her bag, throwing items onto the dirt in a rush. “It’s poisonous.”

  Poisonous? He struggled to focus on the word. It was flighty and out of reach as his concentration faded.

  With a soft white cloth she cleaned the yellow powder from his arm, carefully swabbing the edges of the wounds. Pollen was disappearing inside the open flesh of his arm. It was actively moving into his flesh. Was he imagining that? She doused the wound with her water bottle, making him hiss with pain.

  “Hold it here,” she ordered, giving him a gauze pad to press against the wet flesh.

  He did as he was told, pressing the pad down. It was easier than trying to unbuckle his belt with his fingers and brain, which were refusing to communicate. His hands were clumsy and shaking as he struggled to hold the dressing in place.

  Slender arms reached behind him and slipped his belt from the loops. Anna tied it round his bicep, a few inches above his elbow. Everything wavered and wobbled like bad TV. Cold sweat popped up on his brow. His stomach heaved with a wave of nausea.

  “I’m not feeling that great.” His voice was distant. What was happening?

  “We need to get you out of here. We need to rest somewhere safe.” Anna sounded as if she were standing at the end of a long tunnel.

  She knelt in front of him, tossed everything back into her pack, and then stepped up beside him and supported his waist. His muddled brain enjoyed the gentle clasp of her arm.

  “Stay with me, Garrick.”

  He closed his eyes, unable to keep them open any longer.

  Anna tugged at his waist. “Walk. Bloody walk.”

  He let her lead him into the rapidly expanding darkness.

  29

  Staggering under Garrick’s weight, Anna finally escaped the alien field through two broken, wooden gate-posts. Below her, a small scattering of houses was visible on a gentle slope. Behind the houses to the east was the flat open space of London City Airport. To the
west, the angular shadow of the primary hive lurked on the horizon.

  Houses. Shelter. She needed to get him somewhere safe.

  Her thoughts were scattered and panicky, leaping through her mind like skittish colts. Garrick was still conscious, but barely, his chin tight against his chest.

  “Garrick, hold it together,” she grunted as they lurched down the hill as if in a drunken, three-legged race.

  She counted each heavy step in her head.

  This is not ending here. I can do this.

  “Just so you know, I’m not dying here, and neither is he,” she shouted at the sky as she urged Garrick on. His feet were un-cooperative, tripping and unbalancing her. He was walking, but only just.

  They stumbled off the grassland at the back of the village and onto a tiny high street. There was a small supermarket, clearly looted, its windows smashed in, dark charity shops, and a ravaged dental clinic. Litter filled the street, thick drifts caught between abandoned cars and empty cardboard boxes advertising chicken nuggets and Monster Munch crisps.

  Many front windows were gone, black gaping holes the rain had swept through, soaking everything. Smooth, coffee-coloured mushrooms sprouted along the jagged edges of broken glass.

  God, he’s heavy. Her jaw ached with tension, and pain lanced through her chest. Garrick slumped further against her, his forehead hot and feverish on her neck. She wasn’t going much further.

  Across the road, she clocked a dry cleaner and launderette, one of the few buildings with no broken windows. Nobody looted for clean three-piece suits in the aftermath of an alien invasion. She half-dragged, half-guided the solid weight of him across the road. If he passed out completely, she wouldn’t be able to move him at all. He mumbled something into his chest, but the words were indistinct.