The Invasion Trilogy Box Set [#1-#3]

by Lundy, W. J.

  Jacob returned the handshake. “I’m Jacob.”

  Murphy gripped Jacob’s hand firmly and pulled him in close so the others couldn’t hear. “Listen, I ain’t gonna sugarcoat this for you. They’ll be back and when they come, they’ll come hard. You need to get that weapon up and be ready to use it; do you understand? You can’t cower.”

  “I got it,” Jacob said, suddenly unsure of himself and missing the security of his second-floor safe zone.

  More screams erupted from all around them, signifying the things were out there roaming the backyards of the homes.

  “Well, that didn’t take long,” Murphy said under his breath. The soldier then rose to his feet and yelled as he brought up the rifle, “Lock and load, boys—it’s time to pay the bills!”

  The mob had somehow managed to completely surround their position. Instead of coming back at them from down the street, they had slipped through the backyards and were pouring at them from between the houses. The turret gun opened up, sweeping and hitting everything it could, and the soldiers on both sides of Jacob fired their rifles. Jacob pulled the .22 rifle tight to his shoulder and took aim before pulling the trigger, switching targets until his only magazine was empty. Then he drew the handgun from its holster.

  The deranged things had gotten in close. He watched as a soldier was hit from behind and knocked to the street. A black-eyed man tried to drag him away, and as another soldier went to his aid, he was quickly taken down with him. More climbed over the hood of the Humvee and swamped the mounted machine gunner from behind. The gun fired wildly, the gunner refusing to be taken down without a fight.

  Jacob looked up the street in the direction the trucks had moved. He stood and contemplated running after them. His hands were shaking with fear. His ears were ringing from the close proximity of the gunshots, the screams blocking out his thoughts. He raised his pistol when he saw another wave of the mob closing on him. He aimed straight into the chest of the closest one and fired until the slide locked to the rear.

  They were all over him now; they leapt and tackled him to the ground, then more piled on. Jacob tried to fight back but was pressed against the pavement with his head turned to the side. He could feel the things tugging at his legs, trying to drag him off. He heard the clang on the street beside him and recognized the round metallic object that was rolling in his direction. He closed his eyes tight and waited for the explosion he was sure would come.

  Chapter Six

  The ceiling was made up of evenly spaced old wooden beams; holes had been drilled through them and strands of wire were stretched between each timber. Heavy wooden floorboards with small breaks between them allowed bright light to filter in. The rays cut his pupils, causing them to contract; he closed his eyes. He heard heavy footsteps above him and clomping of heavy feet. Scattered dust drifted through the beams of light and he watched pieces of earth slowly fall until they touched his face. He lay staring at the ceiling as if in a dream; his eyes open and aware, he stayed immobile waiting for his body to catch up with his brain.

  Suddenly, Jacob jerked and stiffened as the feelings of pain and fear filled his body. He tried to sit up—until agony shot through his shoulder and hip. Jacob looked down and saw that a green field dressing covered his wounded side. He felt the pressure of a heavy hand on his chest.

  “Whoa there, big guy; just relax,” a soothing voice whispered.

  “Wha… where am I? Where’s my family? Where are Laura and Katy?” Jacob asked, breathing heavily. Still struggling to sit up, he knew he needed to relax but couldn’t fight off the fear. His heart was beating out of his chest and he felt the sweat gather on his forehead.

  The soldier scooted closer and Jacob recognized the face of Murphy, the soldier he had met on the street. “I need you to stay quiet; okay, buddy?” Murphy whispered as he pointed to the ceiling. “Can you do that for me?”

  Confused and angry at being spoken to like a child, Jacob glared at the man. He wanted to get to his feet, to escape, to find the trucks. He needed to get to Laura and Katy.

  Jacob was about to protest again when he heard more hollow, heavy steps on the plank floor above. They slowly faded and were followed by a loud slap of a screen door. Against a far wall, Jacob saw a tall black soldier standing on an old crate and looking out a narrow window. The man turned and looked back in his direction.

  “They gone, Sergeant; all of ’em. Just moved back down Oak Street.”

  “Shit. That’s the third time they’ve been through this house; not sure how long our luck is going to hold,” Murphy whispered.

  Jacob moved his good arm behind him, pushed, and forced himself into a sitting position. Feeling bolts of pain fire through his trembling body, he scooted so that his back rested against a rough block wall.

  “You said Oak Street? Where the hell am I? What happened back there?” Jacob whispered.

  Murphy looked down at him with concern. “I need you to relax okay. Just chill for a bit and let those wounds set up. You took some frag from that grenade.”

  The other soldier walked away from the window and sat against the wall near Jacob. “It was superficial, but damn, you’re a bleeder. I patched you up and ended up using all the damn med kit on your ass,” the soldier said. “You remember any of it?”

  Jacob looked down, letting his hand tenderly touch the bandage. “Thank you… I guess. Wait, where… where’s my family?” Jacob stuttered.

  “They’re safe; I’m sure they made it back—” Murphy started to say before Jacob interrupted him.

  “Then you don’t know.” Jacob said.

  Murphy raised a finger to his lips and pointed at the floor above.

  Stephens shook his head, watching Jacob. “Fools, man… we never shoulda stopped for that last set. We’d be back on the base behind the walls if we’d just kept going. Hell… I should have never reported to duty at all. I should have stayed home.” The soldier swung his head down to hold it in his hands. “I’d be downstate right now, quiet and comfy.”

  “Cut it, Corporal; our job is to collect civilians, not take care of our own asses,” Murphy said.

  “Man, that’s bullshit. Who gonna care for all them civilians now, with Second Squad gone?” Stephens muttered as he looked down and dug through a small pack. He reached in, pulled out a small bottle of water, and handed it to Jacob. “Here, drink this down. You lost a lot of blood, need to replace those fluids.” Stephens reached back into his bag and removed Jacob’s pistol. “Take this too. I topped off the mag for you. I seen you in action back there. Next time, slow down and aim; you’d have better luck with it.”

  Jacob held the pistol in his hand. Ignoring the water, he said, “I don’t understand how I got here? Who are you?”

  “Hmmh,” Stephens grunted. “Some appreciation that is… Guess you took a hard thump to the grape. Yeah, I’d be jacked up in the head too.”

  “Where’s my family?” Jacob said, trying again to get to his feet.

  Murphy put his hand up. “I already told you, your family is safe. I think so anyway; the base is locked up tight and those things haven’t gotten in yet. Now… like I said before, you need to chill. If those wounds get to bleeding again, we’ll be stuck here.”

  Jacob exhaled loudly, his frustration growing. “Where is here?”

  He watched Murphy reach into his pack and pull out a brown plastic pouch the size of a large book. He used his knife to open the package, and then dumped smaller packages on the floor in front of him. “We’re in the basement of a house on Oak. You should be more grateful, seeing as how we carried your ass… well, Stephens did mostly—”

  “You’re welcome,” Stephens sounded off. “You heavy as hell too, ya know… wouldn’t kill you to do some cardio, lose some of that gut.”

  Jacob looked down and removed the cap from the bottle he was holding. “Oak Street? That’s only three blocks over from my house.”

  “Like I said, you heavy,” Stephens answered, glaring.

  Murphy pointe
d at the window. “We barely made it in here, as it is. We were able to cut down the last wave. The grenade helped, but we had to move before they rebounded—they always fucking rebound. You’re damn lucky we decided to take you with us.”

  “I’d ha’ left ya if it was up to me,” Stephens said, shaking his head. “Hell, Sergeant here, guess he figures better to take you with us than fight you later.”

  Jacob stared at him blankly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means every time we lose someone, they come back as the fucking darkness.”

  “The darkness?” Jacob asked.

  “Those, things, whatever the hell they are,” Stephens said, moving away to a far wall and dropping down against it. He pulled his rifle into his lap and cradled it.

  “What is it? The Darkness… is it like a sickness?”

  “Hell no; it’s an actual thing, like a whole new person,” Stephens muttered, shaking his head.

  Jacob found himself losing his patience. “You’re talking nonsense!”

  Murphy dug into the plastic pouches in front of him and tossed Jacob a sealed package. “Eat this; you need the calories.”

  Murphy put his knife back into a sheath on his belt. “It’s not a sickness; it’s… it’s something different.”

  Jacob took the package, flipped it over, read the pound cake label, and set it on the floor next to him. “Sorry. I’m not in the mood for cake.”

  “Then go ahead and eat it, because that shit is in no way cake. If you’re going to be strong enough to travel with us, you need to eat,” Murphy ordered.

  Jacob took the foil package and ripped off the top. He looked at the yellow brick inside, and then looked back at Murphy. “I’ve seen them close up. The black eyes, the dark mouths, and their blood… it… it was like oil,” he said quietly.

  Stephens grunted. “That’s cause they ain’t people; they the darkness. We already told you that.”

  “What does that mean?” Jacob asked, looking at Murphy as he pulled the yellow brick from the wrapper.

  “The Darkness, Zulus, Marble Eyes, Boogie Man—whatever you call them, it’s all the same,” Murphy said, spooning through his meal. “They are not us, not anymore.”

  Murphy opened a drinking tube hanging from his vest and sucked water into his mouth, taking a long swallow. He stared at Jacob, then looked at Stephens who was leaning against the wall. “You been cut off since the beginning of this, huh?”

  Jacob nodded. “We haven’t left the house since the sirens turned on. I saw the early news reports about the rioting and the PSA to shelter in place,” Jacob said, breaking off a hunk of the brick and putting it in his mouth. He made an odd face and took a long swig of water to wash down the substance.

  Stephens pulled his rifle away from his lap. “Damn PSA; shoulda told people to run, get as far away as you can. Now we got so many pockets of people trapped in the city and they just waiting to get taken… soon they’ll all be gone, be one of them.”

  “So, what are they?” Jacob asked.

  Stephens spit on the floor near his boot. “I don’t know what they are,” he said, his voice rising. Catching himself, he turned back to Jacob and spoke in a low voice. “Doc Jersey, our medic, he cut one open after we killed it. No guts, man, just a black jelly glob all up in their bodies. We tried taking one prisoner… yeah, we captured and hog-tied its ass. They strong, but they ain’t no supermen. This thing was weird, though; the damn thing screamed until it died. We didn’t do a damn thing to it. It just fucking died, man. Then it dried up like a choked-out fish.”

  “It’s true; they shrivel up… like dehydrate,” Murphy said.

  Jacob’s jaw dropped, not understanding but seeing a connection. “The ones I killed; the blood, it shriveled and dried up too, like old paint—”

  There was a loud thump on the floor above as a door slammed open. Stephens held a hand up and put a finger to his lip. Jacob looked up at the ceiling and watched the shadows as a figure walked over the planks. It paced through the house and then quickly left again.

  Stephens quietly got to his feet and stepped lightly to the window. He looked out to search the street, then moved back to his position and looked down at Murphy. “Sergeant, we can’t stay here. That’s the fourth time they checked this place. They know we’re close.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jacob stood pressed against the wall with Murphy to his front. He was blinded in the night and kept a hand on Murphy’s shoulder, so he could be guided by him. Stephens had already cleared the basement doorway and advanced out into the shadows to scout the way ahead. They were waiting for his signal to proceed outside. A low clicking sound came to Jacob’s ears and Murphy turned, looked at Jacob, and waved him forward. The soldier then stepped off, pulling Jacob behind him. Once in the doorway, they pressed back against the wall. Jacob looked around, trying to orient himself before stepping up the concrete steps to the outside. He was shocked to make it up them without falling on his face.

  Murphy moved quickly along the side of the house, then knelt beside a tall bush. He looked back at Jacob and lifted his night vision goggles from his eyes. “You, all right?” he whispered.

  “I can’t see anything,” Jacob whispered back.

  “Just keep a hand on my back until your eyes adjust… You good?”

  Jacob nodded even though the pain in his hip seemed unbearable and was causing bolts of burning spikes to shoot to his spine. Not wanting to stop, he clenched his teeth and whispered back, “I’m good.”

  “Okay then; Stephens is just ahead. I know you can’t see him in the dark, but it’ll get better as we go. Just stay close and keep your mouth shut, walk when I walk, stop when I stop, and if I run… try to keep up.”

  Murphy stepped off briskly, hugging the front face of the house and moving south in the direction that Jacob knew would take them to the park. They stayed away from the sidewalk—crouching beside shrubs, moving between cars parked in driveways, and sometimes jumping a fence. When they came to a cross street, Stephens would duck near the corner of a house to wait for Murphy and Jacob to bunch up behind. Murphy would slap the tall man’s shoulder and he would dart across the street, the sound of his boots slapping the pavement and filling the dead air.

  A signal invisible to Jacob’s naked eyes was received and Murphy got back to his feet, dragging Jacob behind him. As promised, his night vision slowly improved as they traveled. He was able to make out the shapes of houses, then objects in the yards. Now he could see nearly everything up to a short distance, and Jacob slowly recognized the neighborhood they were in. He often used this route as a shortcut when going to Katy’s daycare.

  The streets were lined with well-manicured lawns on both sides. Many of the homes here looked untouched; the doors remained closed and windows were in place. Jacob found that more and more of the driveways were absent of vehicles as he traveled the neighborhood. Were they evacuated? Jacob pondered as he passed another long, empty driveway. They rounded the corner of a tall brick-faced house and suddenly, a bright floodlight filled a front yard. For a moment, Jacob could see the crouched figure of Stephens freeze just before he sprinted out of sight and vanished.

  Jacob was turned back by Murphy before being rushed to the side of the house. They knelt down next to the side of the home in a dark shadow and away from the light. Murphy flipped up his goggles and raised his rifle to search the area lit by the floodlight. He scanned left and right as the area, again, suddenly went dark. Murphy pulled the rifle back into his chest and dropped his goggles. He crouched lower and pressed his body against the wall.

  Jacob couldn’t contain himself and whispered, “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing; probably just one of those damn solar security lights, tied to a motion sensor,” Murphy answered. “Come on, follow—”

  A loud sound of feet falling on the sidewalk silenced Murphy. They both pressed tight against the brick house as several figures passed by within yards of their position. The Others moved be
yond them, and the floodlight kicked on again, lighting the neighboring yard but this time, also illuminating six figures. They stood together but randomly spread across the yard—not searching, just standing in the center of the brightly lit space.

  Murphy pushed Jacob back around the corner then skirted ahead of him to lead the way to the brick home’s backyard. They moved up a narrow walkway that brought them to a tight stone path between the house and a detached garage. Murphy moved through it with Jacob close behind. They rounded a stack of overflowing metal trashcans, then dropped low in the grass and continued on to the far side of the yard where they met up with a tall picket fence.

  Murphy low-walked the distance to the fence and knelt down with his back to the wooden slats. They were now directly behind the brick house and all the way to the back of the lot. Next door was the home with the solar light in the front yard. Behind them, over the fence, was a narrow patch of high grass and trees that divided the lot from the home on the opposite side of the block.

  Murphy had pulled his goggles down and was looking ahead at the brick house. He then lifted his rifle and probed the area of the neighboring backyard. “Three more of the damn lights up there by the roof,” he whispered.

  Three quick shots, followed by two more, blasted from the front of the neighboring home. Murphy leapt to his feet, turned, and pulled Jacob up beside him. “Time to keep up,” he said and took off running toward the neighboring fence. When he got there, he let his rifle hang from a sling and cupped his hands, providing a step for Jacob.

  “What are you doing?” Jacob asked.

  “I’ll give you a boost. Get over and don’t stop until you hit the next yard.”

  “But the lights—” He was interrupted by a long scream and volley of gunfire, this time farther away.