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

by Lundy, W. J.

  Jacob again nodded. James used a hand to slap his back then they ran across the open area of the street together. The gate was in a small stretch of gravel lot; their boots made noise as the treads shuffled along the crushed stone. James slid in and crouched down. Removing a lock pick kit from his cargo pocket, he immediately went to work on the padlock. Jacob turned so that he was looking past James. His rifle up, he swept the terrain for targets. The chain clanged and the lock fell to the ground. James undid the latch and they pushed until the gate gave way then opened it just enough so they could slip inside. James hung the lock on the fence so the last of the team could secure the gate behind them after entering.

  The guardhouse was just ahead. The building looked intact, even though the door was open. James ran, crouching low, and pressed against the shack’s front wall, squatting so that he was hidden below the window. He waited for Jacob to fall in beside him before he slowly moved down the wall and, working angles, cleared the doorway. He stood and leaned inside before pulling back out. “Yeah, it’s empty; go see if you can find anything.”

  Jacob pressed forward and slipped around him, moving past the open door and entering the guard shack—a small, square building with windows on all sides. Just in front of the door was a steel gray desk. A lunch box was open with a half-eaten, dried up sandwich on top of a paper towel. A small thermos sat near the edge of the desk, next to a full cup of coffee. Draped over the chair was a man’s heavy work coat with security patches on the sleeve.

  A clipboard with scribbled entries hung on the wall near the door. In black ink, the final entry read Lockdown complete 16:00. The date of the entry was blank. All entries before it were routine: gate secure, facility closed. Jacob turned away from the clipboard and searched the small file cabinet next to the desk. Like most security offices, it was filled with garbage instead of official business; hot sauce packets, paper plates, and Styrofoam cups joined a stack of unfiled incident reports bundled together on the bottom of the drawer.

  Jacob felt discouraged, not wanting to let the team down. He got low on the floor, looking under the desk and pulling things away from the wall. He spotted a red plastic container, the size of a ream of paper, mounted on the far side of an open and empty first aid kit. Jacob removed the plastic case from the wall and placed it on the desk. The case had a fire department logo sticker on the front and TIER II reports in stenciled, bold letters across the middle.

  He unlatched the box and flipped it open. The hazardous chemicals report was directly on top and dated within the last year. He lifted the stapled pages out and set them aside. Next was a long list of emergency contact numbers and, finally, a site schematic—exactly what Jacob was looking for. He flipped through the pages, looking for the word “dioxin”. He found it on the third page, 2,3,7,8 – Tetrachlorodibenzo-p-dioxin Military Experimental (TCDDMX4). A grid reference line was next to it that corresponded to the schematic. Next to that was a warning: Protective apparel, inner and outer garments. Gloves, boots, respirator.

  Jacob ripped the page from the book and folded it together with the schematic. He gave the office another quick sweep and stepped outside, moving around James and kneeling low beside him.

  “Find what you were looking for?” James asked.

  Jacob held up the folded papers to the bearded Marine and nodded. James pointed to the lieutenant and waved him over. Marks ran from the small place of cover where they were held up near the gate then moved in and knelt down with the two men. Jacob opened the folded pages, showing Marks the chemical list and its spot on the small diagram. Marks grinned. “Good work. James, find us a patrol base.”

  Not waiting for Marks to leave, James stood back up. “Any suggestions, factory boy?” James asked.

  Jacob shrugged and shook his head. “Something open and easy to access; maybe a loading dock?”

  James grinned and moved across the open ground to the side of the first large steel wall. He paused, waiting for Jacob to fall in behind him. Then he stepped off, moving slowly while staying close to the edge of the building. When he moved up on a corner, he would pause the group trailing behind then step away and slowly round it before bringing Jacob along with him. The building was flanked with high grass that transitioned to blacktop as they moved around to the backside of the structure.

  Ahead were two large, overhead doors with a fireproof man-door between them. Beyond this wall, they could see a large loading dock then the tank farm where the dioxins should be located. James continued patrolling forward until he was at the small, steel entry door. He checked the handle and found it locked. James unclipped his rifle from his vest and leaned it against the building as he squatted down. Examining the lock, he let out a grunt then dug back into his cargo pocket for the lock kit.

  Jacob moved closer and knelt beside him. He aimed out with his rifle while occasionally looking back at the rest of the team lined up on the wall, including the retriever that lay in the tall grass next to Jesse. James worked on the lock, cursing to himself.

  “So if you can pick locks, why did you shoot up the door yesterday?” Jacob asked.

  James shook his head and twisted the small tool. When he felt the lock give, he reached for the door handle and pulled down, releasing the latch. “Cause we didn’t have the time… and sometimes I like to break shit.”

  He lifted his rifle with his right hand, keeping his left on the door latch. Jacob turned around, waving for the others to move up.

  When they were all stacked on the door, James powered on a bright light at the end of his rifle and swept into the building with the others close behind him. Jacob moved through the door, detecting the musty smells of standing water and wet concrete. James’s light cut through the dark room, deep into the structure, revealing tall, steel girders and beams. Stacked plastic drums, covered in shrink-wrap, sat on wooden pallets. An electric fork-lift rested idle, still plugged into a wall.

  A life-sized, cardboard figure of a man greeted them with a cartoonish display, showing how to wear an apron, safety glasses, and gloves. Beyond this was a large walled-off area. James moved up to the corner of the structure then rolled inside, panning the area with his light before moving back out and declaring it clear. “Looks like a break area; dining tables, microwaves, that sort of thing,” James said.

  Rogers closed the steel door, cutting off the only light source and causing them to depend on James’ flashlight. Rogers snapped several chem lights and dropped them on the floor, hanging another at the entrance to the break area. Marks passed into the room with the others following. When Jacob entered and sat at a table he looked down and saw the dog was still with them, sticking close to Jesse’s side. As soon as Jesse sat at one of the tables, the dog jumped up and sat in an empty chair next him.

  Glass shattered and Jacob looked up to see James using the back of his KA-BAR to access a vending machine. He reached in then tossed small bags of chips and candy bars onto a lunch table. James sat at the table and sparked the dog’s attention when he ripped open a bag of chips. The Lab approached the man and sat by his boot.

  “What is it with this dog?” James laughed and then leaned down to stroke the dog’s head.

  “Oh, you mean Duke? He’s our mascot,” Jesse said.

  “Hell, no. You fed it, and now you went and named it,” James said, trying to sound tough. He stopped petting the dog, causing Duke to look up at him and press his wet nose against his arm. James grinned and continued to pet the dog. “Well, guess he’s a member of the Assassins now.” James opened the bag of chips and set it on the floor for Duke.

  Jacob walked away from the table and looked out of the break area into the warehouse, factory, or whatever it was. He looked at his watch, amazed at how fast the time passed. He overheard Marks talking about the plan to recover the dioxin and asking for ideas on how to gather a sample. Marks slid out the yellow envelope and set it on the table. Jacob turned and moved back to the group.

  Marks used his knife cut the envelope open. The paper insi
de explained how to treat the chemical and included two small test strips to verify that whatever they found was concentrated enough for what they needed. Stephens lifted the little plastic pouch that contained the strips. “Looks like standard test strips. Says they turn blue if the shit's good to go.”

  “The stuff is deadly; the reaction plan said we needed suits and respirators,” Jacob added.

  James laughed and shook his head. “What’s wrong, cherry? You worried about getting cancer in ten years? Hell, I’m worried about living until next week. I’ll bottle the shit for you if you’re scared.”

  Jacob shook off the comment and moved to a table in the shadows. “Suit yourself, tough guy. Come talk to me when your shit shrivels up.”

  Marks put up a hand again. “Don’t worry about it; I’ll gather the chemicals. I have something else in mind for you two and Rogers.”

  “What?” James asked standing and leaning toward the table.

  The lieutenant smiled, showing his teeth. “I need a test subject. I want to make sure this stuff works.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Half an hour later, Rogers decided it was time. He dipped his hat, signaling for James to edge up past them to the corner of the intersection. James tugged back on the cut length of rusted chain link fence, allowing Jacob to pass through. With Jacob safely on the other side, James looked back, winking at Rogers to let him know he was set.

  It was dusk and the light was fading fast. Even above the chemical plant on the small road leading away, he could see it would be dark soon. They’d moved out from the factory at nearly a jog, finding what Rogers described as the perfect bottleneck: a Y-shaped intersection where two roads met. On the road nearest the factory was a long-term storage facility, Open 24 Hours, was written on a heavy wooden sign over a rusted iron gate. The first thing the men did was close the gate then move to the far end and cut a hole in the chain link fence close to the corner.

  A row of dumpsters overflowing with large cardboard boxes gave them all the material they needed to construct a hiding place. There was a small import car just behind the corner; Rogers worked his magic and managed to get the car going at a slow idle. It was far too quiet to attract the attention they sought; they needed something to bring in the hunters. There would be two of them, possibly together but maybe moments apart. They always worked in twos. Jacob had the easy job. He would shoot the first one; “In the face” as James put it.

  Then the bearded man would tackle the second one, while Rogers knocked down anyone late to the party. The snatch team would only have a brief window to make the grab and get out of Dodge before the follow-up Deltas from the main body arrived. If the hunters were able to get off a warning, the time to move would be even less. They couldn’t get trapped or pinned down. It would most certainly mean death, and there was no way they could lead a mob back to the chemical plant. If they failed, they were on their own.

  While all this went through Jacob’s mind, James approached the small car at the corner. He snatched the rubber from a wiper blade arm then reached through a window and pushed a button, which triggered the car’s windshield wipers and hazard lights. The scraping squeal of the wiperless metal arm against the window started immediately. Jacob feared it may be too loud. They wanted to create noise, but not too much. James looked in both directions then slipped back into the alcove of a building near the car to wait.

  It didn’t take long. As Jacob was adjusting his position, trying to shake the needles out of his dull and sleepy arm, the first of them stepped into view—a big farm boy that was probably less than eighteen years old in life. Jacob knew this would be the one he’d drop—no way were they carrying this guy all the way back to the chemical plant. Farm boy stumbled forward, walking like he’d had too much moonshine the night before. As the thing rounded the front of the car, Jacob could see why. Most of its right pant leg was missing, along with its shoe, showing a badly wounded shin and knee.

  Jacob tried to relax, so as not to focus too much attention on the big guy. It moved right up next to the driver’s side window. The Delta swiveled its head as its lifeless eyes searched the surroundings then looked intently at the wipers’ movements, nearly hypnotized by the motion. Finally breaking away, his eyes wandered then stopped on the dumpster where Rogers was hidden. It held its focus as a second creature moved into view. To Jacob’s relief, this one was a skinny man; sticking with the farmer country boy theme, he had the appearance of Joe Dirt. He sported ragged, faded blue jeans and a long, unkempt mullet. Its face was covered in patches of the man’s best attempt at growing a beard.

  In another time or place, Jacob would laugh at the duo; tonight, he was all business. He locked his sight on the big boy’s forehead. At under a hundred feet, using a scope, he knew he wouldn’t miss. Jacob held his breath and eased back on the trigger, launching a single suppressed round. The big man fell back, his wounded right leg kicking as it dropped. Before Jacob could rise out of his hide, James was already on top of Joe Dirt, raining down punches and trying to stuff its mouth with rags before covering its head with a large burlap bag.

  Jacob ran to his side and dove into the mix. Joe Dirt tried to scream but was heavily restrained by James. Jacob grabbed an arm and used two hands to force it to the thing’s side. He bound its arm to its trunk using a roll of duct tape. As soon as one arm was immobilized, he did the next. Then the legs. Before he could say a word, Rogers was over them, tapping his watch. “Time’s up; we gotta roll.”

  The big man reached down and lifted Joe Dirt like an old carpet. Bouncing him up and down, Rogers quickly rested the creature across his shoulder. “Get us moving, James; lead us out,” Rogers barked, still adjusting to the squirming man’s weight.

  James led them off, making for cover before the rest of the mass arrived. Soon they were in waist-high grass. They moved deep into the field and penetrated a grouping of thick trees that would shield their approach back to the chemical plant. Ducking into the trees, James spun around and covered the back trail as Rogers moved past them. He tossed Joe Dirt to the ground with a thud while the creature kicked and fought against its restraints.

  Jacob looked down at the figure in disgust. “You all really think this is necessary? I hate being around these things.”

  James backed up; then taking the tape from Jacob, he quietly peeled back the layers, using it to double up Joe Dirt’s bindings. He slowly removed the hood and checked the gag. The man looked back at them with solid-black eyes. No pupils to follow, it was hard to see what he was focused on, but they could all feel his stare. “Damn, bro, cover that shit back up,” Rogers said. “He’s about as ugly as your last girlfriend.”

  James dropped the hood, pulling it down over Joe Dirt’s neck, then loosely applied a loop of tape to prevent it from falling off.

  Rogers put up a hand to silence them. “The party has arrived.”

  Jacob sat still in the thick brush, looking at the far away intersection. The main body had gathered, slowly pushed around the import car, and inspected their fallen hunter on the ground at the driver’s door.

  “That was a good shot,” James said, watching the Deltas look down at their big boy. “You cracked the sucker’s grape wide open.”

  “Thanks,” Jacob answered, keeping his eyes on the mass.

  Rogers quietly hoisted Joe back to his shoulders and scuffed through the thicket in the direction of the chemical plant. James kept them in the tree line and tall grass, moving parallel to the access road. Then, as with their initial approach, they ran across the street and entered through the security gate, locking it behind them.

  The sun was gone now; the tall chemical holding tanks cast dark shadows over the facility grounds. James moved them to the factory’s steel sides and shadowed them around to the open access door where a black tarp had been draped. James pulled it back, revealing a space lit with white light. He held the drape so Rogers and Jacob could pass through, and then dropped it.

  “Found some emergency lighting,” Jes
se said. “Batteries say seventy-two hours; should be plenty for the time we’re gonna be here.” Duke ran forward and locked up in a protective stance between the team and the bundled up Delta. Duke’s lips quivered as he let out a low growl.

  “That’s what I’m talking about. You go, Duke,” James said, pointing at the dog. “I told you all I liked this dog.”

  A chair was set up in the middle of the concrete floor, away from the break area. Lights were pointed at the chair with it flanked by the pallets of plastic drums. Marks pointed at Rogers, who still had the prisoner on his shoulders. “Put it over there.”

  Duke followed Rogers to the chair, keeping his distance while panting and walking a wide circle nervously around the prisoner. Rogers sat the man in the chair then, using more of the tape, bound its legs to the chair’s legs. He did the same with the creature’s arms, cutting them away from its trunk and securing them tightly to the chair’s arms. When he was finished, he looked up at Marks. “It’s ready.”

  “Any problems?”

  “Nope; like we figured, they're getting predictable. Did you find the dioxin?”

  Marks cocked his head to the side and pointed at a sealed five-gallon bucket and what looked like a spray bottle of window cleaner. Next to it were two dark-blue strips of test paper. “Right where Jacob said it would be; a bit of a pain getting it out of the tanks, but damn, the shit tested positive.”

  Marks edged closer to the creature and removed its hood. He stepped back, looking it over. “It sure is ugly.” The creature was fully developed. The forehead thick and protruding, scales went from below the neck of its T-shirt, up under its chin and to the sides of its ears.

  “So Stephens, you’ve caught one of these before?” Marks asked, not taking his eyes off the creature. Its head now shifting side to side, examining the men in the room.