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

by Lundy, W. J.

  Jacob did not let the opportunity pass by; he stood upright, raising the rifle, and shooting the creatures in the back where they lay. He then dropped his stance, searching for another target. The nearby creatures were massed around the cabin, not interested in him. Jacob watched as they pounded against the wooden door and shuttered windows, their pus-filled blisters breaking open, leaving black streaks on the roughhewn planks. Jacob moved ahead stoically before taking cover behind a tree. He drew the Ruger MK III and inserted a fresh magazine. Steadying himself, he went to work dispatching the Deltas from behind with single shots to the back of the head.

  One by one, they dropped with strikes to the skull. Jacob cleared the front then moved to the side of the building. He reloaded and turned, searching for more targets but finding none. The woods around him were suddenly silent. No more gunfire; only the occasional scream of a Delta to let him know he was not alone. Jacob tucked the pistol into his waistband and held the rifle at the ready, stepping carefully over the downed bodies.

  A Delta staggered out of the woods behind him. It moved down the hill and, like the others, tripped over the wire. It clawed and scratched at the ground, moving itself forward. Jacob looked at the thing through the sites of his rifle. Its face was swollen, blistered, and peeling, the dioxin doing its work, but there was something else. The creature dragged itself ahead, ignoring him. Jacob stepped closer. His boot scraping across dried leaves caused the creature’s head to turn toward him, its jaws snapping. “You’re blind,” Jacob whispered, stepping closer.

  He moved ahead, keeping his rifle aimed at the creature’s face. Jacob whistled, and the Delta grew frantic, slashing at the air. When it looked directly at Jacob, he could see the milky-white eyes filled with oozing fluid. “Yeah, you can’t see me,” Jacob whispered again before pulling the trigger.

  Jacob shambled slowly to the porch, grabbing a Delta’s foot and dragging it away from the building. He returned and sat on a step, looking down at the pathetic creatures lying next to him. All of them had the same milky eyes. “So it blinds them,” Jacob said, leaning back. He let his rifle drop to the steps as he searched his gear for water. He found a crushed, nearly empty bottle and drank thirstily, draining it before tossing it to the ground.

  He detected something in the cabin behind him. Eve unbolted the door and walked out onto the porch, examining the view. She stepped ahead, walking down the steps and onto the open ground. She looked up as Jesse staggered ahead out of the clearing, his neck bandaged heavily; Stone’s arm was over his shoulder as he too limped forward. Eve ran to them, helping him move Stone down the hill and to the porch.

  Jacob peeled himself from the steps and closed the distance with the others. Eve was tending to her father, leaving Jesse standing alone holding a column attached to the cabin’s porch to stable himself. “Any sign of the rest?” Jacob said.

  Jesse shook his head. Jacob put a gloved hand to his friend’s arm, squeezing it before stepping back toward the hill and up the trail. He knew he shouldn’t go alone, but he didn’t care; he wanted to find the others. Jacob shook his head, fighting off the cold air and finally slowing down as his sweat-soaked body felt the chill. He slung the M14 over his shoulder and gripped the MK III, letting it hang in his exhausted arm.

  They lay all over the ground. The Delta’s dead not moving, some with obvious gunshot wounds, others fallen from the effects of the dioxin. Everywhere Jacob turned he could see one.

  Walking slowly, he moved along the trail and headed for the ambush site. He spotted one staggering through the woods on his right. Jacob watched it move clumsily through the trees. He allowed the thing to get closer before calling out to it. He watched as the thing’s grotesque blistered face turned toward him, its pus-filled eyes searching. Jacob raised his pistol and fired a single shot; the creature bucked and tumbled to the ground.

  He turned ahead, spotting Rogers stumbling in his direction from out of the haze; his rifle hung limp from his right arm and his face was covered with soot. He staggered to Jacob with his head down, intent on reaching the cabin. Jacob put his arms up, grabbing the big man and steadying him. Rogers looked up, fatigue showing heavy in his eyes. He looked at Jacob as if he didn’t recognize him.

  “Rogers, where are the others?’ Jacob asked.

  Rogers pointed behind him and moved on, continuing down the trail.

  Jacob stepped off deeper into the woods in the direction of the smoke and burning fires. He found Marks farther up, face down, a knife gripped in his hand. The Deltas on all sides had been slashed apart. He knelt down and rolled the body over. His chest was covered in blood; his head fell limp to the side. Jacob backed away knowing his leader was dead. He dropped back and saw Stephens’ lifeless body leaning against a tree.

  Jacob looked away, feeling a gurgle in his own guts as bile rushed to his stomach. He rocked back, looking off into the smoke. He took deep breaths as he tried to build the courage to face his friend. Stephens’s right arm was bent back and broken. He clutched a pistol in his left hand. Jacob moved closer, seeing Stephens’s white eyes looking straight ahead, unblinking. Not wanting the image burned into his memory, he looked away then staggered back, nearly falling to the ground.

  He turned into the smoke-filled forest when he heard Duke’s whimper. Jacob increased his pace and searched the woods, again nearly falling. He searched for the mound where he knew James should be. He climbed up a rise, falling into the thick leaves and snow, clawing at the ground and crawling over several of the dead as he made his way to the top of the mound in the direction of Duke’s whine. At the edge, he saw the piles of expended brass and spent links from the machine gun. The M240 golf was lying on its side with part of a linked ammo belt still loaded and the barrel still smoking.

  Jacob continued to the top then looked over the mound. James was sitting back in the dugout position, piles of mangled and twisted bodies all around him. Duke lay across his lap with James’ left hand covering the dog’s back. James’ head was to the side, looking into the forest canopy. He turned to face Jacob as he approached.

  The Marine lay back in the soft mud, his body covered in grime. A Delta body with an open throat lay at his feet. James’ arms were pale, his knuckles cut and bleeding. His hands shook from exhaustion, and blood covered the side of his face. Duke looked up at Jacob for a moment before dropping his head back to James’ lap, releasing a soft whimper.

  “Are you okay?” Jacob asked, stepping closer.

  James nodded, his head barely moving, his hand stroking Duke’s back. “Did you see them?” he asked, turning his head in the direction of where Marks lay.

  Jacob pursed his lips as he stumbled into the fighting position and dropped to the ground next to James, letting his rifle fall beside him.

  “I couldn’t save them,” James said.

  Jacob looked away. He fought back tears and took a deep sobbing breath. “It’s okay.”

  “No it’s not,” James said, his voice breaking. “I can never save them.” He dropped his head, burying his face in Duke’s neck as he pulled the dog close to him. “I let them get to me again, and they always die.” His words trailed off and he turned his head away from Jacob.

  Jacob looked up at the blue sky through the tree cover, wiping his eyes clear with his sleeve. “It’s okay,” he repeated, taking a deep breath.

  James sniffed and exhaled, fighting back the tears. Lifting his head, he again looked up at the sky. He rolled his shoulders and stretched back, glancing in the direction where Marks and Stephens lay. His lip quivered. “There were so many of them. Everywhere all at once; they surrounded me. I tried to push them off, but they got too damn close and there were too many. They got in the hole. I didn’t ask for help but they came anyway. Marks and Stephens came back to get me. They drew them away from me. I couldn’t… why the hell did they come back?”

  The bearded man shook his head, putting it down again. “I’m done, Jacob. I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said, just above a whisper.
“They shouldn’t have come back.”

  Jacob extended his hand, offering James a bottle of water. “Drink, you’ll feel better. You just need to rest.”

  As James took the bottle, he looked at the caked blood on the back of his hands. He drank thirstily then took in a long breath. Closing his eyes tight, he exhaled loudly. “Let’s go back to the cabin; I’ll be okay. You’re right, Jacob. I’m just tired is all.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Wind blew at the cabin walls, the night air filled with the sounds of creaking branches. James slept in the bottom bunk with Duke curled in a tight ball at his feet. A fire burned in the wood stove, heating the small cabin above the bunker. Jacob was alone now. He was tired and hungry but with his body unwilling to sleep, he paced the cabin floor restlessly. Duke looked up at him with weary eyes. As Jacob moved past him, the dog buried his head in the thick blanket, hiding his face.

  Jesse and Stone were both in the bunker below him, still down from their wounds. Gloria was doing what she could for them, but they would need a doctor soon. She patched them up and stopped the bleeding with what medical supplies they could offer. Rogers spent his time working on the radio, desperate to make contact with the rear. Desperate to call for an extraction.

  Jacob opened the cabin door and stood in the opening, looking out into the surrounding woods. He let the cold breeze hit him in the face, heightening his senses. It was now dark. A bright moon lit the trees in a pale blue light and the snow had stopped falling, the weather turning clear. The dioxin worked. After the attack, the area became clear of them. Any they did see were dead or dying, others vacating the zone immediately around the lake.

  Jacob left the cabin and stepped out onto the small front porch. The poncho-wrapped bodies of Marks and Stephens lay side by side, a stark reminder of the price they paid. If they couldn’t reach command tonight, they would bury them in the morning. Rogers had helped him recover the bodies. They wrapped them and returned them to the cabin one at a time without speaking. Neither man could muster the strength or courage to bury their friends yet. Now they lay beside him on the porch, and Jacob still didn’t have words for them. Stephens brought him here and was with him since Chicago, and now he was gone, like Murphy before him.

  A scream far in the distance spooked him, the sound echoing off the trees. They were waking up. He gripped his rifle and backed into the doorway, pausing to take another look at the tree line before retreating inside and bolting the heavy lock behind him. Jacob looked at James. The Marine’s head was to the side, and he was snoring loudly. His beard matted, flecks of dried blood still on his forehead. Jacob stepped lightly beyond him and opened the door to the bunker then walked into the dark stairway.

  At the bottom, a gas lantern glowed, reflecting a soft orange light off the walls and ceiling and making the space feel smaller than it was. He found Stone sitting alone in an old wooden kitchen chair, his leg wrapped in fresh white bandages. Jacob turned to the far wall where he spotted Jesse. He was asleep in the lone bed along the far side; his neck was covered in gauze, a red spot marking the location of the wound. Stone waved a hand at Jacob, pointing at a chair.

  “Have a seat, son,” he said. “Join me for a bit.”

  Jacob crossed the open space and dropped into the old wooden chair beside the man. Stone took a pull off an amber-colored bottle then stuck a cork in the top and passed it on. Jacob held the bottle in his hand and, turning it, looked at a label he didn’t recognize. He wasn’t much of a whiskey drinker… he wasn’t much of a drinker at all outside of the occasional beer on a hot day.

  “It’s vintage, but not necessarily good,” Stone said without emotion. “Go on, trust me, it’ll help you feel better.”

  Jacob pulled the cork. He sniffed the strong contents and took a long sip before pulling away with a deep cough. He managed to hold the harsh liquid down, blinking his eyes rapidly while the burn passed.

  The red door opened. Gloria, Stone’s wife, walked into the large room. She spied the bottle and twisted her face. “I told you that’s not good for your bleeding, Henry,” she scolded.

  “It’s not me; the kid here brought it with him. I ain’t had a drop.”

  She shot Jacob a cross look and shook her head. She moved to Jesse’s side and checked the man’s bandage. After pulling away the gauze and applying a new one, she adjusted his blanket, tucking it under the sleeping man’s arms. Gloria moved into the kitchen area and removed a large pot of coffee and several tin cups, setting them on the table.

  She looked back at Stone. “Don’t stay up too late, Henry; you need your rest,” she said before returning to the red door.

  “She’s good one, but damn she can nag up something fierce,” Stone said, watching the door to make sure it didn’t reopen before he snatched back the bottle. He took another long pull of the whiskey. “There’s plenty of room back there, ya know. We can fix you a spot if ya want. Gloria would like it; she enjoys a full house, even if it is just a bunkhouse full of stinking soldiers.”

  Jacob laughed. “I’m fine out here or up in the cabin. I don’t want to intrude on your family. We’ll stay out here and keep watch for you all; it’s the least we can do.”

  Stone sat quietly, looking at the wall. He took another sip of the whiskey before passing it back. “I’ve never seen anything like that today, even back in Nam. The way they came at us like rabid animals. You'd think after the last few months, nothing could surprise me anymore. But that… even back when all this shit started it was nothing like that, and I’ve witnessed my share of the hordes.” Stone looked down at his folded hands, shaking his head.

  “The family here, we had it easy all things considered; better than folks in the city, anyway. I had a friend in St. Louis. He had his own connection and was able to give us some early warning, posted a message online right after the first of those meteor showers. He let us know the stories were true; you know, about the takings, that the riot stories were all bullshit.

  “He was updating us on the real deal before the government was even admitting something was wrong. I told Gloria we couldn’t take the chance on it all blowing over or being contained in the west the way the news people said it would. We made a vacation out of it; invited the kids up here to the old homestead for some family time. Schools and most jobs were closed anyway, so it was easy to sell them on it.

  “This place used to belong to my granddad. It was a big farmhouse back in the day. Two-story home built over a full cellar—used to be full of potatoes and canned goods when I was a kid. My father inherited the place; he's the one that had all of this improved. He cleaned up and reinforced the basement walls with block. Added the extended room back there as an underground bunk house.

  “He let the house above go; he always had a notion something like this would happen and he wanted a safe place for his family. He was planning on an atom bomb though; you know, back when the cold war was in full freeze. I bought it from him after I retired. Tore the house down and put the small cabin up top. Only way I could get Gloria to go along with it. She called it our cottage and rolled her eyes at all of this prepper stuff down here.

  “The kids love the cottage. It was easy enough to get them to come up here for a spontaneous vacation, but I think they suspected it would only be for a week, two at the most. We spent those first days fishing and relaxing. But every day became a reminder that something really bad was coming. The radio and satellite TV gave dire reports of what was going on in the big cities: Chicago, Detroit, and Indianapolis. It was getting closer and all around us. We decided to close up the homestead. We left the trucks down on the road, covered everything up with brush, ran the trip wire around the property line, and shuttered the windows.

  “A few days later, I heard the first gunshots and the screaming from over the hill. I took the boys with me and we watched them take the town; we laid up from that same lake view trail that we used against them yesterday. Couldn’t believe my eyes at how fast it spread. The boys and I couldn’t just
sit there. We tried to stop some of ’em. Used the usual tactics—ambushes on the road, set traps, shot at them from the hills to try and slow them down. We killed far more than our share. But for every one we killed, more came in to replace them.

  “Eve heard about the ponds over the VHF. We confirmed it a day later down at the East Bay; we saw them dragging people to the water. It got too hairy for us after that. They seemed to be looking for us. The things started spending more time out here in the woods, hunting for survivors. It was like they knew we were here somewhere. We decided we’d stretched our luck to the limits and voted to lay low and hide, wait for the military to retake control. We stayed locked up in the cabin most of the time, and always at night. Only making runs into town for essentials. The boys, well they—”

  Jacob held the bottle, taking another sip, which was easier this time. “I’m sorry about your sons.”

  Stone nodded, looking away. “You know, some people think losing someone you love is the most painful thing you can experience in your life. It’s not. It’s hard, but the pain will fade,” Stone said, looking at the red door. “The real pain is knowing that when the Devil comes down those stairs for the ones you love, there isn’t shit you’ll be able to do to protect them from it. I live with that every day. How will I protect those kids back there? I don’t know, Jacob. What will I do when they come for us?”

  Jacob swallowed hard and looked away. He took a third sip, this one longer, now finding the bourbon smooth. The pain in his body relaxing, he slouched in his chair and stared into the lantern. Rogers wended toward them from the darkened corner of the room. He rummaged over the table and filled a small tin cup with coffee before moving closer to the other men and taking a seat. He reached over, grabbed the bottle from Jacob, and topped off the cup before setting the bottle on the floor.