Salvation (Rise Book 2)

by Nathan Hystad

  “They sound like capable people. I bet they’ll make it,” Izzy said.

  “What’s your dad going to say when he realizes you pulled a fast one on him?” Becca asked the girl in the driver’s seat.

  “He’s going to flip his lid and kill me. If I’m still alive, that is.” She flashed a smile toward Alec, and he groaned.

  “We’re screwed, aren’t we?” he asked.

  “Yep,” she replied. “So we may as well steal a damned Crusher in the meantime. Becca, you sure you can fly one?”

  The girl glanced at her missing hand. “I think so. I remember the controls. I mean… they’ve never let me fly one, but I’ve been inside while they used them.”

  Izzy slowed the truck, craning her neck to stare at the girl in the back. “You mean you haven’t actually flown one?”

  “No. How would I have? They don’t let us traipse around the country in their ships.” Becca frowned.

  “Fine, I’m sure you have enough understanding that we can pull this off,” Alec said.

  “As I said, I’ve been inside while…”

  Izzy didn’t let it go. “Like how much? Did you sit there beside one of the freaks while they cruised to Florida for an orange?”

  “No, just test runs after we fixed something,” she admitted.

  Izzy clenched her jaw so tight, Alec saw the muscles bunch in her face. “This isn’t going to work. I should have gone to my father again. Made him see the light.”

  “You said it yourself, he wasn’t going to change his mind,” Alec said, trying to convince her. “We’re already halfway there. Let’s keep moving. Like we said, if this all blows up in our face, the end of the world is near anyways. May as well die trying to make it better.” He was nervous, but his words felt needed. He was done bowing to them, and was finally ready to throw everything he had at them.

  “Someone cast this guy into a play, because we have an actor,” Izzy said, jerking a thumb in his direction.

  “Whatever. You know what I’m saying. You feel the same way, or you wouldn’t be tagging along,” Alec told her.

  “You’re probably right,” she relented.

  Alec pried the tablet from the pack and checked the nearby Seekers and Trackers, finding nothing within a hundred miles in any direction. He zoomed out and saw a horde of the drones heading for Los Angeles. Becca leaned over the center console, staring at the tablet.

  “What do you think they’re doing?” she asked.

  Alec zoomed out more to see hundreds of the drones migrating toward Phoenix. Another massive group was heading for Los Angeles, where the major harvest production took place. “They’re moving to the most populated worker regions. I think they’re preparing to destroy the facilities.”

  “The people are never going to know what hit them. We need to find the central command center for these bad boys,” Izzy said. “Strike hard and fast.”

  It was a good idea, one he’d never heard Tom suggest before. “I have no idea where it is,” Alec said.

  “This program we have a backdoor into, it’s on here, right?” Becca asked.

  “Yeah, this is the thing that Trent James gave his life for,” Alec said.

  “Can I take a look? I’m good with electronics and stuff like that. I might be able to do some backtracking and find out the source of the commands.” She stretched her one hand forward, and Alec gave it to her.

  It was mid-morning, and Alec rolled his window open, the day already hot along the West Coast. They drove without speaking for an hour, Becca tapping and swiping on the tablet behind him.

  “Guys.” Her voice was quiet, and Alec saw her face had gone pale.

  “Are you feeling okay? Do you need something to eat?” he asked, opening the glove box.

  “No. Nothing like that. I did it. I found the command center for these drones. They’re controlled out of a facility out of Phoenix. The eastern US is operated from Atlanta. If we can destroy that, we’d save a lot of lives,” Becca said.

  “What do you think? If we stop the signal source, would they just drop or could someone else pick up the command?” Alec asked.

  “I’d guess they’re each programmed into one main center. I think we’ll have a lot of dead drones on our hands if we destroy the base,” Becca said.

  “If we could take over the controls…”

  “You’re a damned genius, Alec,” Becca said.

  Izzy pressed her foot a little harder on the pedal, sending them racing down the roadway, heading south. “It seems we’re going to be bringing an army after all.”

  Tom

  Tom slowed as he neared his old home. He’d lived there for so long, everything around him was familiar. When he was a kid, he used to be able to ride his bike in the fields behind his house with his eyes closed. He always knew by feel when to turn, when to slow for the creek, hearing the tiny flowing river as it rolled over the rounded pebbles. This was much the same, and he smiled sourly as he headed toward their encampment alone.

  He’d instantly regretting leaving Alec behind. It had been a rash decision, a foolish one. The kid wanted to help, he had fire in his belly, but Tom could only think the same way as Greg Zhao had; he wanted to protect his family.

  Tom stopped at the side of a ridge, the road narrowing. This was where he wanted to see the Reclaimers’ former glory. It was high noon, and the sun was peeking through the dense forest cover as he scanned the valley for signs of their old camp. It was destroyed.

  There were a few smoldering fires nearby, tiny bushes burning and sending off smoke signals into the sky. He’d spotted them miles away and expected this, but it didn’t ease the sudden shock at seeing his old home nothing but a crater.

  He wondered how quickly their terrible ships had descended on the location. Time was running out. The Overseers were on the move, and they weren’t messing around. His old timeline was wrong. He didn’t have two weeks left. Hell, he would be lucky if they had four days.

  He pulled out the tablet and activated it. There was only one Seeker in the neighborhood of Cripple Creek, and Tom exited the program. This was it. The call of all calls. He was aware that all of his people would see it, as well as Soares and Cole, Lina and Monet, even Alec. His chin found his chest as he thought how helpless his nephew was going to feel when he saw the urgent rush to the rendezvous, but there was nothing more he could do.

  For Tom, this was a one-way trip, and he was at peace with it. He keyed in a message on the tablet’s secreted untraceable application and waited for the confirmations to return. He’d instructed them not to reply, but he would know that they’d received the notification.

  He waited until everyone had the message, then nodded grimly to himself, tucking the tablet away before returning to his vehicle. He started down the mountainside road, heading for his next and final stop before Detroit.

  It was all going to end in four days, one way or another.

  Chapter 32

  Dex

  Rain splattered on Dex, the incessant downpour leaving a layer of water at the bottom of the boat at least an inch deep. Everything was soaking wet, and Tubs was muttering under his breath as he paddled the canoe through the Potomac River.

  “Only a couple more miles, buddy,” Dex told the other Hunter.

  “Is that your go-to line? Jeez, what the hell was I thinking tracking you?” Tubs asked.

  “I did paddle the first hour.” Dex rubbed his sore shoulder, and Tubs had the audacity to roll his eyes at Dex. They faced one another; the load of explosives tarped in between them.

  “Tell me why we didn’t drive again?” Tubs slowed his pace, and a fork of lightning flashed across the dark sky illuminating a bridge to their left.

  “If we drove, they’d see us coming from miles away. Plus, if you were tracking Cleveland’s truck, maybe someone else is too.” Dex glanced to his wrist where the metal bracelet clipped around his skin. Tubs also had one, the device almost too small to fit the big man’s arm.

  “They’d probably
have let us in.”

  “Sure. Hey, guys. Do you mind if we come and search for my target? I think he might have snuck into your facility, the one where a bunch of Overseers hang out, and park their rides when they’re tired of cruising for chicks,” Dex said with a smile.

  Tubs stared at him straight-faced and broke out in a quiet laugh. “You crack me up, Lambert. Remind me why we didn’t get along before?”

  “Because we’re both selfish and only care about ourselves,” Dex told him.

  “Good point. When do we…”

  Dex saw the lights from their location, drawing his attention like a beacon. “Now. The rivers converge here.” He pointed to the right, and Tubs grunted as he used the paddles to redirect them.

  “What if we drove, and…”

  “Would you cut the crap? We’re in a boat already. There’s no turning back. This is our mission, and we’re going to finish the task.” Dex had a sinking feeling in his gut. The message had come the night before, and their timeline was going to be tight.

  The Overseers had used the old Navy shipyards just south of Capitol Hill, a place Dex had never been before. He hated going in so blindly, but he didn’t have any options. This was going to make or break Tom’s success.

  Paddling up in a crappy canoe wasn’t his idea of efficiency, and when the rain had begun a few minutes after they started upriver, it had gone from bad to worse. But they were almost there, and if he could succeed here, none of it would matter. He’d dry off and happily detonate the devices with his tablet as they ripped away from town.

  “You mind taking over?” Tubs asked, and Dex shrugged, switching seats with the other man.

  “How old are you?” he asked the guy. He had one of those faces that made it tough to tell.

  “Thirty-six. Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Can’t really remember.”

  “What do you remember about that day?” Dex asked, more to pass the time than to make a real connection. This was what he always did when he was bringing in a hunt, a Roamer who’d thought they could outsmart the Occupation. But no one could really outsmart the Overseers, not in the end. The thought was a cold one as Dex paddled toward their encampment.

  Tubs’ gaze went distant, and thunder boomed loudly overhead, more lightning crackling in the night sky. “I was a kid. I’d say… eleven, maybe. I loved baseball. I’ll never forget that. Can’t recall if I was any good. Things like that get pushed from your head after a few decades of all this.” He waved his arm around, indicating their new world.

  “A guy your size, bet you were killer,” Dex said, breathing evenly as he rowed.

  “I wasn’t too big. I think my dad was, though. My mom was tiny, a little brown-haired woman with curls and a smile that would make you forget scraping your knee,” he said wistfully.

  “What happened?”

  “I was in Sarasota. Still find it hard to believe the bastards were as quick as they were. It took them a week to locate us, even with Tampa so close, but I heard others made it months before being taken out. We hid out in the school. Dad kept trying to persuade us to head to Cuba or something in a boat. Lots did. Who knows what happened to them. When they came…” His gaze met Dex’s. “I’ll never forget the sound of that damned contraption lowering from above. It descended in the middle of town, and immediately, a dozen of those hovercars dropped too. Seekers floated toward us, Trackers herded us into a large group. They didn’t talk, but after the first ten or twenty of us were decimated by their weapons, people learned.

  “My dad tried to fight one of them. He punched the leathery bastard right in the face. Can you believe it?” Tubs asked.

  Dex only nodded.

  “They shot him. The alien shot him, blowing his head off, and when my mom screamed and startled the Overseer, she was next. I stood there with pieces of her on me…” He wiped his arms, as if the rain was really something from his memory.

  “What did you do?” Dex asked. The man’s story wasn’t so different than his, or most of the people still alive.

  “Nothing. I did nothing. Other than piss my pants.” Tubs twitched as the thunder boomed again, and he glanced toward their destination. “Think the vessel they used in Sarasota is here?”

  Dex grinned grimly, adding fuel to the fire. “I’m willing to bet big that it is.”

  “Good. Let’s make ‘em pay.”

  Dex spotted the naval yard bridge beyond their landing target and moved for the coast of the river. There were a few docks protruding from the land, but he doubted anyone had used them since the Occupation. There was no way the Overseers were watching this river. He’d been paying attention to them for years, and they didn’t seem the least concerned about covering their backs. He attributed it to the fact they were alien, that their minds worked differently, but it could be nothing more than arrogance.

  The pier was a couple hundred feet long, dark, unlit, and the shipyard was illuminated by four erected light posts, each shining at least one-thousand-watt mercury vapor lamps into the field.

  “That’s the ballpark,” Tubs said. “Used to hate the Nationals.”

  Dex directed the canoe ineffectively toward the dock, bumping into it hard and nearly losing one of his oars. It jarred from his hand but clinked safely into the oarlock. Tubs grabbed hold of the pier, steadying them.

  They stayed low, Dex pulling out his binoculars. He wiped the wet lenses with a finger and pressed the cold plastic to his eyes. He scanned the area, unable to see a single moving target. It was quiet.

  “Anything?” Tubs whispered. They were each in black clothing, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. Tubs slipped his hat off, wringing it out before shoving it back on his bald head.

  “Nothing yet.” His gaze stopped in the center of the four tall light posts. That was where the ships had to be. He thought he saw the reflection of a bulb on the top of a parked spaceship, but it was hard to tell from this far away, with a high fence surrounding the area.

  He was sure they’d redesigned the place to accommodate their fleet. It appeared as though a few old buildings had been destroyed, possibly dumped into the river.

  Tubs tied the boat off, using a thick length of rope they’d taken from the same pier they’d found the canoe, and Dex began hauling the packs from the tarp. They bags were heavy, and he grunted as he hefted the first one over his shoulder.

  Tubs had an easier time with them and took twice as many of the explosives as Dex without comment. The rain continued, maybe even harder, and Dex blinked the falling water from his eyes, his leather jacket doing little in the way of blocking the downpour. He considered waiting it out, but the storm would be good cover.

  “We need to scope it out from a distance, then come up with our plan. Good?” Dex asked the big man.

  “Good.” Tubs started forward, and not for the first time in the last few hours, Dex wondered if he could truly trust the man. If Tubs had wanted him dead, he’d had plenty of opportunity since they’d met the day before, so that put his mind at ease.

  It was only a couple of blocks to Dex’s ideal muster point, and they crouched in the entrance of a brick building. Dex tested the front entrance, finding it unlocked. He headed inside the six-story building and used his flashlight to guide his way. He found the stairwell and pressed through.

  “Leave the packs here,” Dex said.

  “You sure?” Tubs set his bags down gently, hiding them under the steps. Dex copied him.

  “Unless you want to carry that two hundred pounds up six flights of stairs,” Dex said. Tubs didn’t argue.

  They jogged up the pitch-black stairwell, his jostling flashlight the only source of light, but it wasn’t long before they were at the top floor. Dex glanced up, seeing more steps, these ones narrower. “To the roof,” Dex said, continuing up.

  “Just when I was getting used to being out of the rain.” Tubs followed Dex through the heavy metal door. Before it closed behind them, Dex stuck his flashlight in the jamb, preventing
it from closing all the way. He didn’t feel like being locked on a roof in the heart of the enemy’s territory.

  The roof was flat, with multiple ventilation ducts jutting toward the sky, and he walked past them toward the brick ledge facing the shipyard. There they were.

  He didn’t even need his binoculars to see there were at least twenty enemy ships, each massive and intimidating. Even silent and grounded, they set fear into Dex’s bones.

  “Do we have enough?” Tubs asked, staring somberly at the alien vessels. It had been twenty-five years since they’d lowered through Earth’s atmosphere, and so much had changed since then. Dex pushed away the fear and embraced the thrill of what they were about to do. This would change the outcome of the war, or at least even out the playing field enough to make a difference.

  “We have enough. If we’re short, we’ll place them between two ships, hoping to damage them enough. If we’re lucky, we start a chain reaction,” Dex told him.

  This made Tubs smile again. “Good.”

  He used his binoculars and saw no one in the open yard. There might be aliens on the ships, but he doubted there would be many. He saw lights on in the building inside the fence and spotted one of the Overseers inside the window. The tall alien was standing there, placing some breathing device in front of his face. He took long inhales of the mist and staggered slightly.

  “Tubs, you seen them using those misters?” Dex asked.

  “Sure. Not often, but enough that the others talk.”

  Dex had seen them too, but since he’d noticed it years ago, he hadn’t given it much thought. Now he began to wonder.

  The alien placed the device in a uniform pocket and turned from the window, the light flicking off.

  “What’s the plan?” Tubs asked.

  “We cut through the fence.” He pointed at the left edge. “Head inside, stick one of these on every damned hull we can within five minutes and run like hell. Run to the boat and paddle away.”