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

by Lundy, W. J.

  Marks nodded. “Did you get the extended warranty?”

  “Oh yeah, and then some.” Rogers laughed. “Cab will only seat five, but someone can ride in the bed.”

  “I got it—I’ll take the back with Duke,” James said, already tossing his ruck into the truck bed. He lifted Duke in then grabbed the tailgate and, using the bumper, climbed over the rail. Up high in the truck, he surveyed the area before lying down and stretching out across the back. Duke moved up and lay beside him with his head on the man’s chest. James pulled the floppy hat down over his eyes and covered the dog with his arm. “Hell yeah, perfect fit.”

  Jacob helped sort the last of the groceries, breaking things down and stuffing them into their packs. When they finished, he helped load it all. With everything on board, they climbed into the cab and Rogers headed west on the open road.

  The terrain slowly changed as they rolled north; the grass grew long and yellow, the road flanked by tall pine trees. Oaks and poplars were gold and orange with their fall colors. The road opened up with far less traffic and the homes became farther apart. Billboards pointed to tourist spots and gave directions to hotels and restaurants. They drove past an occasional body on the side of the rural highway, or sometimes slowed to look at a burnt out farmhouse.

  Marks rode shotgun with his military map out across the center console. He strained to see road signs as they passed by, stopping at cross streets to compare them to his map. “A street atlas would be nice,” Marks said, trying to plot their current location. “Nobody uses the damn things anymore, relying on their smart phones and navigation systems. Well, lots of good that does us now.”

  Rogers laughed in agreement. “Don’t sweat it, boss; we’ll find the base.”

  Jacob rode in the back seat between Stephens and Jesse. He had his head down, and his rifle was between his knees. The slow going and buzzing sounds of the new tires on the concrete tugged at his eyelids, making his head heavy. He looked left and right and saw his friends both asleep and stopped resisting.

  The truck stopped suddenly, jolting Stephens awake as the side of his head smacked against the window. “What the fu–” he barked. “What happened?”

  Jacob leaned forward and saw what caused Rogers to stop. Just ahead, the road curved right. A large sign welcomed them to a quaint lake town. But what stopped them was beyond that. A long procession of people walked in a double single-file line, traveling right to left, moving across the road toward the lake. Jacob leaned forward and adjusted his view; the line stretched far into the distance.

  “Do they see us?” Jesse whispered. “Why are there so many of them?”

  Rogers put the truck into park and sat silently. “If they don’t, they will soon; if we turn around now they’re going to be on to us,” he said, squeezing the wheel.

  A tapping come from the back window. Jacob leaned forward and strained his neck to see behind him. Rogers pressed a button, opening a window in the rear of the cab. As soon as the window opened, they could hear Duke’s growl.

  “We got company,” James whispered. “Looks like a Delta convention is gathering in town.”

  Behind them and on the right side of the road was a small patrol of Deltas, five walking in a staggered file and headed in their direction, every one of them armed. Farther back, a small SUV hugged the shoulder of the road as it drove slowly, keeping pace with the Delta column. James had his rifle up, leaning on the tailgate for stability.

  Jacob gasped. “What the hell? They’re moving like a military unit.”

  “It happens. Not often, but it happens,” Stephens answered.

  James glanced at Marks. “That truck’s getting closer, L-Tee; give the word, and that driver eats a bullet.”

  Marks looked back and front several times, searching for a way out, struggling to make a split-second, life-or-death decision. “Fuck it, kill him. Take out the vehicle too. Rogers, as soon as that SUV is down, get on the gas and take us off-road. Let’s get some distance before we have to bail out.”

  James leaned into the rifle resting on the tailgate and fired two suppressed rounds in rapid succession. After a brief wait, two holes appeared over the driver’s side of the windshield. The Delta SUV continued forward but veered right, drifting off the road. James shifted and fired three more times and was rewarded with a flash of steam from the vehicle’s radiator. With perfect timing, Rogers stomped the gas and the truck lunged forward. James held the trigger, draining the rest of the magazine into the marching patrol.

  Rogers then cut hard right, smoking the tires and tossing James to the side, forcing him to let go of the rifle and grab on. Rogers jerked the wheel and sped the truck from the roadway. He lost traction in the grass, fishtailing away and throwing mud. The Delta patrol opened fire as the truck sped down a small embankment headed for the far off trees. Rounds smacked the tailgate; others slapped the ground around them. Rogers stayed in control, dropping the vehicle into four-wheel drive as more rounds zipped overhead.

  “There!” Marks shouted, pointing at a small cattle gate with a no trespassing sign hanging over the center of it. Marks slowed as he lined the truck up with the gate yet still hitting it hard enough to snap the gate back but not enough to immobilize the truck. Rounds peppered the tailgate and shattered the rear window. Rogers ducked as he maneuvered the truck onto a well-rutted trail that snaked around and into deeper woods. They rounded a corner then dropped downhill, picking up speed on the muddy path.

  “Oh shit! Hold on!” Rogers shouted.

  Jacob looked ahead and could see that the muddy trail was covered by water. They hit the water hard. The mud exploded and wrapped around the front of the truck, covering the windshield. Deeper than it looked, the water rose to the center of the truck’s doors, bogging the vehicle down. Rogers stayed on the gas; he fought the mud as the truck tires spun, searching for traction. The truck fishtailed and sank deeper into the muck.

  Rogers punched the dash and cut the engine.

  “Okay, dismount, fellas,” Marks shouted, throwing his own door open. “Time to beat feet.”

  James was standing in the back tossing the packs to dry ground. Jesse pried the rear door open, throwing his weight against the muddy water. He took a long step into the mud and fought through it to the weed-covered bank. Then turning back, he helped pull Jacob up the slope behind him. The muck permeated his clothes with a skunky, bog water stench.

  They scrambled into their packs and waited for James, rifle across his back and Duke cradled in his arms, as he jumped from the truck. He set the dog down and threw the straps of his own rucksack over his shoulders just as rounds impacted the muddy water. Duke bounced back and forth, agitated by the gunfire.

  James pivoted and adjusted his rifle, firing several times and dropping the only visible attacker. More came into view; Jacob raised his M4, aimed at the center of the group, and pulled the trigger, sending rounds in their direction. Some dropped, but more quickly filled the space. “There’s too many; let’s move!” Marks ordered, forcing them to break contact.

  Rogers led the way. At a near run, he cut through the thick lodge-pole pines, moving the team back into high ground. The terrain was covered now with pine needles with most of the forest floor open. Unlike the thick brush they traveled earlier, this terrain allowed long fields of vision. The soft groundcover cushioned their footfalls and concealed their tracks, making them hard to follow. They changed direction often, trying to lose the pursuers. This forced them further south and away from their destination.

  After running nearly a mile through the pine forest, Rogers called them to a resting halt. The men dropped to the ground, hiding in any sparse cover they could find, breathing heavily trying to listen for sounds that the Deltas were still in pursuit. The gunfire had stopped. No trace of the moaning or sounds of vehicle engines. They looked at Duke for signs; the dog was sitting calmly next to James, panting. His nose was in the air, sniffing, but its ears were relaxed.

  “They know we’re here. They won’t s
top looking,” Stephens said. “Let’s keep moving.”

  Rogers traded out the point position with James, allowing him and Duke to lead them out. They cut a diagonal path through the pine forest, trying to intersect with a game or recreational trail that would lead them north. Moving farther west, James stepped them into a dry streambed. He turned to follow it until the ground became wet. The damp, sandy soil made it easier to travel but also left heavy, easy-to-follow boot prints. They hurried across it and moved farther north through sparse woods. They stayed just below a ridgeline until they crossed a hilltop and found a well-marked lake view hiking trail. James cautiously led them onto the hard-packed trail. From there, they could clearly see the distant lake, the water holding a jet-black sheen. The town far below was filled with the Deltas.

  “That explains the mass on the road,” Rogers said. “Looks like we got ourselves a mega seed pond… or hell, mega seed lake, even.”

  “Nothing we can do about it. Let’s get some distance on this place,” Marks said, pushing them on. “We can’t afford to get into a fight with these numbers.”

  At the top of the hill, the trail cut sharply again, moving them down and to the south in the wrong direction. James slowed and navigated the terrain before throwing a fist in the air. Jacob strained to see over James’s shoulder to find out why he had stopped them.

  At the bottom of the hill, he spotted movement—a flash of white fabric. Jacob ignored the halt and stepped just behind James, straining his eyes to get a better look. He spotted her; she was standing straight up, wearing khaki cargo pants and a camouflage parka. She had a rifle slung over her right shoulder while waving a white flag with her left hand.

  Jacob felt the others move up, gathering around him at the top of the hill. “Damn, is that a woman? What’s she doing way out here?”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  The men bunched up on the slope, staring down at her. Tall with broad shoulders, she wore an army patrol cap with aviator sunglasses. The girl was younger than Jacob, mid- to late-twenties, but stood with the confidence that gave her the appearance of being much older. She didn’t flinch or hesitate as the men approached. She stood with her feet shoulder-width apart and arms folded in front of her.

  Seeing them move closer, she tossed the white flag to the ground and unslung her rifle, putting it into low carry with the barrel pointed down. Not threatening, but not overly inviting either. Jacob had seen enough bad war movies to recognize the AK47 with a thirty-round magazine. On her hip was a long Bowie knife, and tucked into a shoulder holster under her left arm, she carried a black semi-automatic handgun.

  “Dibs,” James, said walking forward, letting Duke lead them.

  “Bullshit,” Rogers mumbled. “You got the dog. Boss, you think we can trust her?”

  Marks stalked close behind them, speaking low as they approached. “Let’s see what she has to say. Right now, we are the group of strange men and she is the lone female. For some reason, she chose to trust us.”

  “Yeah, that’s what worries me,” Rogers said.

  Marks shrugged in agreement. “If it goes south, we kill her and stick to the original plan.”

  James stopped and looked back at them. “Come on now, you can’t shoot my girlfriend on the first date,” he protested.

  The team continued walking down the steep trail. When they were within fifty feet, she put up her palm, halting them. “That’s close enough. Who are you and why are you stirring up the natives? You’ve made enough damn noise to spin up every black eye in the county.” Her voice was quiet, yet assertive. Duke continued forward and walked around her, sniffing her legs and ankles before stopping and sitting at her feet.

  James opened his mouth to speak but stopped when Marks put a hand on his shoulder. “Excuse me, ma’am, we're with the United States Armed Forces. A small recon team,” he said. “We are here to—”

  She shook her head, giving half a smile. “Nah… there is no US Armed Forces anymore. Who you are? And don’t lie. I have shooters in the trees just waiting for a reason to take you down.”

  “Oh boy, I think I’m in love,” James said.

  Marks put his hands in the air, stepping in front of James, pushing the Marine back. “It’s true. We are with the US Armed Forces, operating out of Canada. We were on a recon mission south of here when we ran into trouble. Had some trouble with the radio so we're trying to make our way north.”

  “All of you? You’re all military?” she asked, eyeballing Jacob.

  Marks cleared his throat and waved his hand around the group, making brief introductions. “James is with the Marines, Rogers is an Army vet. Stephens is also Army. I'm with the Air Force. Jesse and Jacob there are—hell, I don’t know what to call them. Let’s say conscripts.”

  “Conscripts? What, like they were drafted?” she asked.

  “Something like that. We do what we have to these days,” Marks said.

  She looked the men over, seeming to focus on their matching uniforms and equipment. “Okay, follow me and stay close.”

  James jumped forward, extending his hand. She brushed him off. “We need to hurry before they pick up your trail; they’ll be coming through this way soon.” She moved out quickly, leaving James dumbstruck with his hand still extended. The men passed by James, slapping him on the shoulder as he mockingly grabbed at his heart. Duke moved by his side, looking up at him as the others passed.

  She moved them fast over what looked like a well-worn game trail, except this one had seen a lot of human traffic. The surface was packed earth, occasionally turning to stone. Some places were even built up and compacted with logs and brick. She veered them off the trail, moving downhill into thicker cover and heavy underbrush. She moved at nearly a jog, the speed making it impossible to communicate. Because of the pace, Jacob doubted her story of the far-off shooters. If there were any in the trees, they would have lost them. Or she was running them into a trap.

  They came out of the underbrush onto a small, recreational, two-track trail that looked like it had once been used for all-terrain vehicles. She followed the trail for a few hundred yards then turned north, marching them up a steep incline. The top leveled out into a high overlook; here she finally stopped the vigorous pace. She moved to a moss-covered log and lifted back a green tarp. Underneath was a gallon water jug. Jacob also spotted several rifle magazines for her AK and a tactical tomahawk. She removed the jug and took a long drink of water before passing it to Marks.

  “There aren’t any shooters are there. Who are you?” Marks asked as he passed the jug to Stephens.

  She ignored the question. When everyone had a drink, she placed the jug back under the tarp, pushing dried leaves and pine needles back in place to conceal the cover. “We have to keep moving. It’s not safe here with the increase in activity. Come on; the camp is this way.”

  They moved slower now. She led them over the soft needles, crisscrossing the undergrowth of the forest floor, leaving no discernible trail. James, with Duke beside him, worked his way back to the front. “I didn’t catch your name,” he said, moving beside the woman without taking his eyes off the surrounding forest.

  She hesitated then looked at him briefly. “Name’s Eve,” she said, stepping slightly ahead and avoiding a follow-up question. Jacob roved near the back, where he could see that Stephens and Marks were constantly exchanging looks. Occasionally, Rogers would move close to them and flash a number of fingers or some other sign. Jacob looked over at Jesse, who was walking next to him. The big man shrugged his shoulders. Jacob watched as James pursued, sticking close to the woman as the others seemed to plan their next move.

  James looked back at the rest of the team now that he was leading far ahead and walking beside the strange woman. He turned back to her. “So where are you taking us?”

  She suddenly stopped and looked them over, allowing them to move close and gather around her. James stopped and stood beside her, as if he’d already picked a side and was on her new team. He knelt down and
stroked Duke’s head as he waited for her to speak. “Something is happening and it’s been happening fast. They are congregating around the lake, their numbers growing every day, and it makes it hard enough to get supplies without people like you stirring them up. Just ahead is my father’s hunting cabin. He won’t be happy to see you. I was out gathering supplies when I heard the shooting, and it was probably stupid on my part to bring you back.”

  “Okay, slow down, miss. What hunting cabin?” Marks asked.

  She curled her lip like she had something to hide. “You’ll see. Come on, it’s just this way.”

  She led them down another slope then through a large thicket, slowing them before pointing down at the ground. “Watch your step.” Just a foot off the forest floor was a tightly strung strand of barbed wire.

  Jacob stopped to follow the wire’s path; it seemed to go on forever, wrapped around the base of the trees. Just yards past the wire, the thick brush opened up into a clearing. The ground was covered with dried leaves and sparse spots of long grass. There was no road or driveway, and there were no vehicles. At the end of the clearing, was a modest one-room cabin with the door shut and heavy shutters in place. Beyond that, alone in the forest clearing, was a rustic red barn that seemed out of place. Jacob looked at it and turned to Jesse. “Not much here,” Jacob whispered.

  She led them to the small front porch of the cabin and opened the door, allowing them to enter. It was dimly lit by a glass skylight and smelled of wood smoke. It seemed even smaller inside. Pine planks covered every surface. A cold woodstove was in the corner with a pile of pine boards next to it. There was also a set of bunk beds and, in the peaked ceiling, a loft—no kitchen or bathroom in sight. A small rustic dining set filled a corner with a set of wooden chairs pressed against a wall. Eve moved in past them and paused at a corner, waiting for them all to come inside before she opened a closet door that revealed a set of plank stairs that led down to a cellar.