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

by Theresa Beachman

  “Help me get her out!” he shouted across the water at Hardy. His words echoed back at him. This wasn’t going to happen. His sister was not going to die in this fucking monstrosity. Adrenaline fuelled his arms and legs.

  Garrick erupted out the water like a wave then turned and hooked his hands under Violet’s arms and rolled her onto the ledge as Hardy pushed her legs up from below. When she was clear, Garrick bent over and listened to her chest. She wasn’t breathing, but his fingertips registered an erratic pulse in her neck.

  Come on V. Come on.

  He adjusted her head and breathed one, two, three breaths into her lungs. He counted in his head. One, I love you V, two, stop pissing about, three, wake the fuck up now. His hands trembled with the effort of keeping himself together.

  Hardy waited at her feet, hanging protectively over her like a wolf over his mate. His face was emotionless. “Again,” he said as Garrick paused to listen to her chest.

  Garrick leaned forward, gave three more breaths then jerked backward as Violet finally coughed and rolled, heaving up dirty river in violent spouts. He slapped her back twice then hung over her, his arms squeezing her shoulders as he laughed with relief. “Christ V. Don’t do that. You scared the hell out of us.”

  Hardy rocked back on his heels, still clutching her ankles, and closed his eyes.

  Garrick helped her into a sitting position to catch her breath. Her lips still had a bluish tinge, but she was alive. She gave them both a small smile and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her voice wavered. “When we leave, can we walk out?”

  There were no doors or tunnels out of the cavern. What they found instead was a hole in the floor, a tunnel sloping downwards, leading away from the river and deep into the Chittrix colony. It ran at an angle of forty-five degrees, not steep enough to fall down but angled enough to require extreme care.

  Garrick went first, Violet next, and Hardy took the rear. They inched and slid their way down the claustrophobic tunnel, which narrowed as they crept, finally spilling out into another cavern. This one was much bigger, like a small chapel with gaping, open holes peppering its tall walls, ceiling, and floor. They crouched together for a few moments, taking in the enormity of the task in front of them.

  They’d landed in the middle of spaghetti junction.

  The air was dry here, isolated from the icy water of the Thames. Warm blasts from three hundred and sixty degrees buffeted them. Garrick’s eyes flitted from one opening to another. How the hell were they going to navigate their way around this thing?

  “Any indication if we should be going up or down?” Violet’s voice was hushed in the giant antechamber, which was surprisingly quiet after the din of the hive outside. Where the hell were all the Chittrix and Scutters?

  Garrick stood up and began to walk slowly, across the eerily pliable floor, sensing the deepening depressions under his feet. He consulted the tracker pad on his wrist, locating Anna’s bracelet signature. Hardy and Violet followed, covering him with their weapons as he stepped over and between tunnel entrances.

  “I hate to think what the fuck this is made of,” Hardy said. Garrick glanced over his shoulder. Hardy bounced lightly on the malleable surface then bent to run his fingertips over it, his face wrinkled in disgust.

  Garrick checked his wristband again. They were closer to Anna, blips pulsed brightly on his wrist, detailing her location. He spread his fingers and panned back on the digital map. A delicate filigree-pattern of tunnels appeared on the screen.

  “Are you getting this?”

  Hardy checked his own wrist scanner. He nodded in agreement.

  “Wait.” Violet grabbed his forearm.

  “What?” Garrick scanned the space around them. Nothing. The tunnel entrances were dark and empty, but a diffuse burr vibrated in his head.

  Hardy stilled beside him, raising his pulse rifle. He hears it too. Garrick pointed with one gloved hand to the nearest tunnel entrance in the direction they needed to go. He took one hesitant step.

  That hazy burr again.

  From above.

  Garrick craned his neck, raising his face to the roof of the cavern. A Chittrix was hanging suspended above their heads, barbed feet embedded in the vaulted ceiling.

  Garrick swore under his breath, and then the Chittrix released and dropped, plummeting in a blur of claws and angular limbs. Its tail arced, rotating its body to land upright with swift agility.

  It instantly flattened Hardy to the floor in a violent collision of bodies. His gun was torn from his hand, as he disappeared under the thick alien thorax and silvered wings. Violet screamed and fired her pulse rifle, charging until she was aiming point-blank against the side of the Chittrix’s neck.

  Its tail lashed, swiping Violet’s feet out from under her, hurling her flat on her back. As it lifted its head its jaw chattering in triumph, Garrick bludgeoned it across the face with the back of his SIG, silencing the call to battle. The Chittrix recoiled with a snap under the force of his blow, clicks and whistles terminated in its throat. Immediately, he unloaded an entire round through one glittering eye, smashing the perfect orb into jagged, weeping edges. Its tail hit the floor, and the body slumped.

  Hardy’s hand surfaced from under the lifeless Chittrix, slapping against the sleek thorax in agitation. Garrick bent and yanked his friend’s arm and Hardy’s face popped out.

  “Fucking get this thing off me,” he spat.

  Violet and Garrick heaved together and the Chittrix slid sideways, releasing Hardy with a wet crunching sound.

  Violet stuck her hand out, grinning widely. “You’re welcome.”

  Hardy shook his head in disgust as he accepted the proffered palm and hauled himself onto his knees. “Bloody thing weighs a ton. And it stinks.” He wiped jellied slime from his abdomen and arms. “F-u-ck,” he said, distaste in every syllable.

  Bending over, Violet swept more viscous ribbons from his backside, flinging them across the floor with curled lips. “Quit being such a girl.” She bent and returned his pulse rifle.

  The tracker pad beeped, reclaiming Garrick’s attention. Anna’s signature was moving. He spun one hundred and eighty degrees, trying to determine the source. The signal jittered on the screen, unsure where it wanted to lie.

  “Fuck.” He slammed it against his thigh. Damn thing was supposed to be waterproof.

  Hardy came up behind him, rubbing his hands clean on his trouser leg. “Ok?”

  Garrick clapped the tracker again. The signal steadied. He raised the pad in the direction of the tunnel entrance directly in front of him. It was a slash in the wall, eight feet tall, barely a foot wide.

  “This one—”

  A scream cut him off. A woman’s scream. Anna. Directly ahead.

  “Garrick, go now!” Violet shouted from over his shoulder. As he spun in response to her voice, she raised her pulse rifle, taking aim at a spiked Chittrix shadow rushing across the ceiling.

  Hardy reached for his own weapon, nestling it in the crook of his shoulder. His eyes were focused as he tracked in tandem with Violet. “Go! We’ve got this.”

  Garrick spun on his heel and sprinted across to the tunnel entrance the scream had come from. He charged in.

  Hold on, Spitfire.

  45

  Garrick raced down the tunnel, hot air blasting in his face. Under his feet, openings gaped treacherously, forcing him to jump as he pursued the echo of her scream.

  Scream again, Anna. Again.

  Another shout.

  Beneath him and behind. He’d gone too far.

  He skidded to a halt and backtracked. Collapsed to his knees. The shout had come from below.

  Without hesitation, he rammed his legs into the descending tunnel and let go. He hurtled downwards like a rock, arms crossed across his chest, pulse rifle snug to his body.

  Garrick exploded out the tube into a smaller chamber. Faint light outlined a body being dragged across the floor by dark Chittrix pincers.

  Anna.

&nbs
p; His mind struggled to compute the rest. The Chittrix pincers were attached to a male chest, which in turn emerged from a sleek, black alien abdomen. A tail arched above the man’s head, six feet long, jerking in agitation.

  Instinctively, Garrick rolled and fired his pulse rifle. The Chittrix-man howled in distress, jerking backwards. He released Anna and lunged forward, whipping the air with a forked tongue. Garrick grabbed his machete and charged, roaring. This was for his brother and the poor bastard that was now some freak show of Chittrix genetics.

  He hit the monstrosity full on and registered shock in the black, inhuman eyes staring back at him as the machete sank deep. The Chittrix-man had expected Garrick to run, not fight back. Hot, dark blood spurted over Garrick’s arms. He jerked the machete upwards, enlarging the wound and the creature spasmed under him, dragging him to the floor in a mess of limbs and blood.

  Solid alien chitin crushed Garrick as he fought to free himself. At last, he crawled out from under the tangle of man and Chittrix, his pulse hammering in his temples and his hands red and bloody. He tugged his machete free, ready for any sign of life, but the Chittrix-man’s head hung motionless and slack.

  Garrick stood for a moment, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. He had never seen anything like this before and he never wanted to again.

  Then, tearing his gaze from the corpse he staggered towards Anna in the far corner of the room.

  46

  “Anna. Wake the fuck up.” The voice came from far away. Something rocked and shook her. Something was hurting her. She pushed it away, fighting to slide into the blackness, away from the pain invading the edges of her consciousness.

  “Anna! Jesus Christ!”

  The voice wasn’t going to let her go back to sleep. It was strident. Annoyingly familiar, she thought in her red and black room of pain. A face flashed into her mind’s eye. Grey eyes, dark hair. Safety.

  “God, you’re heavy.”

  Garrick. The blackness started to dissipate.

  She blinked, and there he was in front of her, shaking her as if his very life depended on it. He shifted and blurred as pain lanced through her injured shoulder.

  Anna slapped at his hands. “Stop it. You’re making me sick.”

  Relief flooded his features, and he stopped rattling her shoulders but didn’t let go. “Thank fuck. I thought...” He didn’t finish his sentence.

  She raised her hand to her forehead. Pain drilled into the top of her head, the edges of her vision pulsing in time with the pounding agony in her skull. Her fingers came away wet, black in the washed-out light emanating from the walls.

  She blinked rapidly, her palm on her chest.

  “Why is my head bleeding?” Blake. Memories restarted, overwhelming her brain with barbed pincers and fathomless obsidian eyes. “Blake?”

  Garrick didn’t answer. He was busy kneeling in front of her, pulling a kit of out a slim pack strapped to his thigh. He ripped open a packet and pulled out a thick pad of white gauze, which he pressed to her head. He took her left hand and tried to place it on the dressing. She yelped and jolted away from him.

  “I’ve hurt my shoulder,” she gasped, bending forwards to protect herself from new explosions of misery. The world fuzzed over, fading to black.

  “Anna?” His voice drifted in and out, as his face bent over her, creased with concern. He slid her sleeve up and the sting of a needle punctured the crook of her arm. Warmth blossomed in her bicep, expanding to fill her body, leaving no room for the pain. The grey edges retracted, and she sucked in a long shaky breath as his presence washed over her in a wave of safety.

  Garrick snapped his fingers. “Stay with me.” He took her good hand and placed it against the sterile pad on her head. “Keep it there. Pressure will help slow the bleeding.”

  Blake was lying a few feet away, cheek down on the floor of the chamber, his hybrid body in disjointed chaos. Thick viscous blood coated his torso. She looked away, forcing herself to focus on Garrick searching through the medi-pack. Triumphant, he produced a tight roll of bandage.

  Relief flowed through her, and she didn’t fight it. I’m happy he’s here. The sensation was a delicious novelty.

  “How did you find me?”

  He stopped what he was doing, reached over, and put his hands on her wrist. “Your tracker bracelet?”

  “The strap’s torn. It’s in my back pocket.”

  He took her left hand in his, his calloused fingers enveloping her skin in warmth. He squeezed gently.

  “You really know how to make a guy work for it.”

  “You came for me even after I pushed you away.”

  His fingers grazed the line of her cheek. “When’s it going to sink into that obtuse skull of yours? I’m not going anywhere.”

  He slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her mouth against his, the taste of him filling her brain, detonating fireworks in her belly. He was so solid and real, his mouth dark and hot against hers, claiming her as his own.

  She broke away from the kiss, her cheeks heating. Despite everything, he had come for her. The thought made her giddy, even if she was sat in the middle of a Chittrix hive.

  He pulled her forehead to his own, his hand possessive against her throat. Anna touched the silver chain around his neck. The coding chain for the Sweeper.

  “You have the coding chain?”

  He winked, a quick smile illuminating his intelligent face. “There’s no time to explain. We need to hurry.” Breaking away from her, he unrolled the crepe bandage. He quickly wound it round her back and shoulder, securing her injured arm under her breasts.

  “Hey, dumb-ass.” A woman’s voice hissed down the shaft above their heads.

  “Violet.” Garrick raised his brows. “Love my sister.”

  He ran his hands gently down Anna’s thighs. “Legs ok?”

  “Yes. I think so.” He helped her stand. “I’m wobbly but functional.”

  They moved under the shaft, where the end of a red rope dangled. Garrick tugged it twice and more tumbled down. He tied it to Anna’s waist and behind the backs of her thighs. He worked quickly, jerking the knots secure and snug against her body.

  As he worked, a moan came from the far side of the room. They both froze momentarily, waiting for Blake to pull himself up from the floor. But there was nothing more. Anna hissed a breath through clenched teeth.

  Garrick yanked on the rope above her head and commanded. “Now.”

  The rope constricted around Anna’s hips and under her legs, creating a cradle to lift her up. Her injured arm remained safely secured to her chest.

  “Hardy has your weight, but you’ll need to help him with your legs. Keep yourself off the wall as much as possible.” He took her chin gently in his fingers and turned her face to look at him.

  “It’s too late to push me away now. You know that, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for her answer, instead giving the rope a sharp tug. Then she was above him, ascending into weak amber light, leaving Garrick alone with Blake’s broken body.

  She used her feet as much as possible to keep herself off the walls but still bashed her shoulder several times, sending bone-searing ricochets throughout her upper body. Halfway up, another coil tumbled past her and quickly went taut with Garrick’s weight as he followed her. When she reached the top, hands appeared and pulled her over the edge.

  In the half-light, Violet and Hardy hauled her carefully over, both wet and bedraggled. Two perfect strangers who had risked their lives for her.

  Violet’s smile gleamed in the murk. “Let’s set the big bomb and get the hell out of here.”

  47

  Garrick climbed up the shaft, aiming for the flickering torch Violet held at the top. His feet struggled to find purchase, so he relied on his arms to do most of the work. By the time he pulled himself over the lip, his biceps were protesting loudly, and his palms were smarting. Hardy reached over to his belt, grabbed the back of his body armour, and helped pull him over the edge and onto the floor of
the chamber. Across from him, Violet was untying Anna in the insipid light.

  As he stood, whipping the rope from his waist, a blast of euphoria hit him. They’d made it this far. The rest was surmountable. He grabbed Hardy’s hand, pulling him into a one-armed bear hug. “Thanks.”

  Hardy pounded him on the back with a thick fist, pushed him away, and pointed. “I’m not doing this every week. Just so you know.”

  Garrick stuffed the rope into his backpack, his voice rattling in clipped battle tones. “Let’s keep moving. We still need to get out of this shit-hole.”

  Anna interrupted. “Blake decoded enough of their language to communicate with them. He planned it all. He told them to come. He invited them.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “If you hadn’t turned up, the Chittrix would have taken all of us.”

  Garrick, handed his reloaded SIG to Anna. “You’re with us now.” She took it in her good hand and checked the safety. She gave him a hesitant smile, dipping her head in agreement. She wiped her hands across her cheeks, straightened her back, and sniffed. “I’m good. Let’s plant the Sweeper.”

  Garrick reached forward and planted a brief kiss in the centre of her forehead. Her body was confident under his touch. It was time to go.

  Garrick kept his pace swift as they jogged back along the tunnel to the huge vaulted room they’d come from. Anna remained close behind him. Exactly where she was always going to be from now on, as long as he had anything to do with it. Behind Anna, Violet followed with Hardy.

  As they entered the central chamber, Garrick, checked the map to get his bearings. Behind him, the others remained in a neat defensive circle, their ears pricked to the soft humming vibration permeating the air.

  Anna took his wrist and flicked through the digital maps their tracking pads had constructed of the colony.

  “We’re too high. The egg chambers will be lower, where they’re easier to defend, and the environment is the most consistent.”

  A rising hum of vibration saturated the space around them. Hardy’s eyes narrowed. The noise was definitely getting louder. “Hurry up,” he muttered, nervously checking each of the entrances facing them.