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

by Lundy, W. J.

  She backed away, put her hand on the lock, and felt the sweat building in her palm. When she looked back up, she could see a dark-faced woman standing just outside the door. She heard the knock and before it could register, she saw her hands open the door. The woman stepped into the opening and inspected her, her head slowly panning over her body. The woman reached for Laura’s wrists. Her hands were cold and dry as she turned Laura’s palms up and inspected them.

  “You’ll come with us now,” the woman said with an accent the Laura had never heard.

  “But my daughter… I’m not even dressed,” she protested.

  The woman waved a hand and two women brushed through the doorway, quickly draping Laura in a dark gown and heavy cloak; another woman crouched and placed a leather slipper on each foot. When they finished with her, they nudged her forward.

  “Your child will attend school, you will come with us,” the woman said.

  “Where is Francis? I want to talk to him,” she said.

  From the back, another leathery skinned woman marched forward and scowled at Laura. She looked her up and down and gritted her teeth in disappointment. “Why always the lazy ones?” she muttered before looking Laura in the eye. The leathered woman held a small chrome box and smiled at Laura as she caressed the box in her palm. Laura felt a static sensation in the plate on her head.

  “The Creator does not demand obedience… he expects it,” she said.

  “And if I ref—?” Laura felt a quick squeezing sensation in her head that subsided as quickly as it came, the world going light then dark as if a light switch had been flipped. She looked back up at the leather-faced woman.

  The woman glared back. “Any more questions?”

  Laura shook her head no, a tear forming in the corner of her eye; she wanted to show strength, but she felt broken, her head still cloudy from the pressure. The woman showed no mercy and nodded to the others. They formed around Laura and pressed her out of the house and onto the walkway.

  Not speaking, the women guided her to the street where others huddled around her in the pouring rain. She tried to turn her head but lost sight of the leathered woman. At the next house, she was forced to wait in the street as another woman was retrieved. She now understood the group she stood with were all new like her. This was their common bond; instead of resisting the huddle, she now fell into it. Hands clapped and the group shuffled along, moving quickly now. Laura recognized the course and knew they were returning to the orb.

  They were stopped and formed into a straight line, standing shoulder to shoulder. Laura looked up and saw men dressed in the same dark blue as Francis moving from a hatch in the Orb. She watched them until a firm hand squeezed the back of her neck and she heard the leathered woman’s voice. “Do not look at them.” She spoke louder so the others could hear. “Do not speak to them.”

  Laura focused her eyes to the ground as a man paced by her, stopped, and faced her before stepping off. She was then led forward; looking left and right, she saw she was now in a new line along with five others.

  The leathered woman was replaced by a frail woman in an identical dark robe who said, “Come, this way.”

  Following the instructions and moving ahead, Laura saw that the others had already begun to follow, so she fell in close to the group, moving toward the hatch. She watched as the blue-dressed men moved in ahead of them, vanishing in the opening. Soon they were on the ramp, climbing up toward the opening, the metallic surface scuffing against the soft sole of their sandals. She heard a woman whimper, sobbing quietly as another tried to comfort her. The woman guiding them ignored their agony, walking straight ahead as they followed.

  The hatch was rough, the surface appearing old and unmaintained. Laura tried to look inside, but the interior was dimly lit. The ramp faded into the floor of the space that was a rough metallic, the walls made of the identical material. Laura expected pneumatic hatches and sliding doors, laser lights and soft hospital-like lighting. Instead, what she found was very industrial; the space was rough and soot covered. Carved into the walls were symbols that looked vaguely familiar—like hieroglyphics, but instead of cranes and alligators, they were strange creatures.

  The passageway narrowed and they were squeezed into two columns of three. The space smelled smoky and oily, like the belly of an ocean vessel. None of it was what she expected of an alien space craft. Finally, they rounded a corner that ended at another rough-cut wall. Laura tried to search for anything useful, but the lights were low and all she found was a space void of any recognizable features. A crunching sound of gears, and the wall began to move up. Lights flickered, casting the space in a dizzying strobe effect.

  The robed woman guided them into what appeared to be a large kitchen. They stripped off the soaked cloaks and hung them along a row of hooks evenly spaced high on the wall. Other women in black garbs were already hard at work removing food from pots and setting up plates on shiny metallic trays, some containing bowls, others with pitchers and glasses. The stench made her choke, and she fought back the revulsion.

  Laura and the others were again formed into a line standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the kitchen staff. The last of the bowls were filled and the kitchen staff was formed into lines and marched back through the same hatch Laura’s group had just entered.

  The robed woman moved in front of them; she turned her head to verify they were alone. “I am Taurine; you now answer to me. You will serve the guides their afternoon meal. You will not speak to them. You will follow any and all instructions. If you violate any of the rules of our order, you will be witnessed.” The woman paused. “Do you understand?” Her voice was calmer and more reassuring than the leathered woman’s.

  Laura nodded as the woman panned, examining their faces. “Each day will be better than the next.”

  The back wall made a grating sound and slid to the left, revealing an open dining room filled with the humanoid creatures dressed in gold linen. They were seated around long communal tables. Consumed in conversation, they didn’t bother to look up or seem to notice the dingy kitchen filled with servants.

  Taurine stepped forward and gently touched Laura’s wrist. “You serve the mélange,” she said, pointing to a tray of glasses. Without waiting for a response, Taurine moved on assigning other responsibilities to the women.

  Nervous, Laura bit her lower lip and stepped forward cautiously. She edged to the metallic counter and gripped the tray in both hands. She noticed the glasses had already been filled and the carafe was topped off as well. The tray was heavy so she held it close to her body to stabilize its weight. She turned toward the open dining room and saw some of the seated guides eye her impatiently.

  She moved ahead; the room filled with sounds of alien voices, her knowledge plate struggling to keep up while processing several conversations at once, and her head filled with waves of strange conversations that made no sense to her. She stepped lightly alongside a table, her legs feeling heavy and wobbly, the tray rattled in her grasp.

  She moved between a pair of seated guides; one reached up without making eye contact and casually grabbed a glass, the one across from her doing the same. She proceeded to move away when the closest guide snarled at her, took the carafe, and placed it in the center of the table then shooed her away with a flick of its wrist. Laura inhaled deeply, trying to calm her nerves and moved on. Looking around, she could see the other women were now all holding trays and making their way around the room.

  The fact that the guides seemed to have no interest in them helped her to relax. She tried to not focus on the job of serving and instead take in the sights of the room for anything useful, anything she could use. She strained her eyes, trying to look up and into her mind and silence the storm of voices, tuning in and out of several conversations until one caught her attention.

  “The council is not happy with the Messenger’s loss.”

  “Do you know who will replace him?”

  “No, but when he arrives, the retribution wi
ll be delivered. They have chosen to spare the community and instead will hit the outside harshly. It appears the local resistance is not isolated, so the migration here is not going well.”

  “How so?”

  “The other settlements are far ahead of this one. The council will not tolerate our ineffectiveness and our sustained losses… We have to be ready for exodus…”

  “You there!” a voice echoed loudly in her head.

  Laura suddenly realized she had stopped moving and her tray was still resting in her hands while she’d been lost in the voices inside her head.

  “Yes, you,” she heard again over the others. Laura glanced down and saw a female face—the same as the one she’d met on her arrival. Scanning the room, she saw they all looked identical in every way, only a scar or birthmark to tell them apart.

  Laura began to speak but held her tongue in fear of the warning she’d received. Her hands gripped the tray tightly, and she stared down at her white knuckles, afraid she may have already offended the alien by looking it in the eyes.

  “It’s okay, you may speak to me,” the guide said.

  Laura looked up again, waiting for a response.

  “Has every guest been served?” the guide asked.

  Laura again eyed down. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do not be sorry, be obedient. Do not stand and wait to be called,” the guide said, shooing her away.

  Laura backed away and hurriedly completed her rounds around the table before returning to the kitchen with an empty tray. She set it on the counter then pressed her palms onto the cold metallic surface, listening to her heart beat.

  Taurine watched as she put back her head and took deep breaths. The old woman moved by her side. “Why are you in distress? Why do you find it difficult to serve the communal, what is there to fear?” she asked.

  Laura felt the presence of the others—the women returning to the kitchens with empty trays of their own. They gathered around her, all looking at Taurine.

  “This is not a trick or a difficult question; you may answer it freely,” Taurine said. “I am here to help you with the transition.”

  Laura gaped at her confused. “What transition?”

  “Is that why you are afraid?” Taurine asked. “Because of the unknowns?”

  Laura pursed her lips. “It’s because everything has been taken from me.”

  “Everything? Do you not have a daughter? A home? A purpose?” The woman waved her arms, motioning the kitchen. “What more would you need?”

  Laura fought to hold back her emotions. “What about my husband?” she said, her voice breaking and a tear forming at the corner of her eye.

  “You’ve been assigned a mate; does Francis not suit you?”

  Laura gasped and looked away.

  Taurine flashed a wicked smile. “Oh, you didn’t know. Well then, maybe you are the one that is not being found suitable. I suggest you work on that before you are cast aside. Do you think that would be best for your child?”

  The old woman clapped her hands, bringing the other women in close. The door to the dining room slid closed as a new group of women entered the space from behind them. Laura listened as they were given instructions on what their job would be. She leered up and locked eyes with Taurine, who flashed her a vindictive smile.

  “You are all dismissed. Your mates will greet you in the passageway,” Taurine said.

  Laura stumbled and stepped toward the exit door, her body feeling heavy and out of breath. She moved slowly, falling into the group of women. She wanted to be far away from the vindictive woman who appeared to take pleasure in her agony. She fell into line, following the others through the narrow opening and back into the dimly lit passageway. Just as Taurine had said, she found Francis there waiting for her.

  He didn’t speak, turning away once she acknowledged him, knowing that she had no choice but to follow.

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  The bunker didn’t spare them from the sounds of the roaring storm outside its walls. The space was cold and dreary; rain seeped under the door, turning the concrete a dark gray. A stream of murky water traced a line between the tired soldiers, making its way to a drain vent located in the center of the small space. The man-made cavern was dimly lit by a single low-watt bulb hanging in the center of the bunker.

  Jacob watched Jesse move, happy to see him on his feet. His friend was back; the attack had invigorated him. He stood in the corner over a propane stove warming water for soup. His neck still wore a bandage, and his body bore the wounds from the fight, but he knew the other soldiers expected more from him as a scout, and he was doing his best to put on a show.

  Not designed for housing, the bunker was filled to capacity. Along with the two who came in with Jesse, four more had arrived during the night. Survivors and stragglers, men who, when they found the destroyed cabin, knew this was the last refuge in the area. Along the floor, intermixed with bundles of equipment and crates, men sat exhausted. A lone soldier stationed himself at the back, fidgeting with the only working radio, desperate for a signal. All the landlines back to the cabin were dead; an uplink to the radio tower was their only hope.

  Jacob pressed against his space of open wall, moving his knees to keep them from the encroaching water. His eyes turned and focused on the prisoner across from him. Its head was still covered in the fabric, its wrists and ankles still bound, and the blue-and-gold-sleeved uniform coated with mud from the trail. Rogers and James were arguing about what to do with it, how and whether or not to interrogate it. The other men listened in anxiously, this being the first live alien they’d managed to capture.

  “We need to get that uniform off and get rid of it,” James said. “It could have a tracker embedded in it; they’re probably using it to find us right now.”

  Rogers rubbed his forehead wearily. “Seems like they’d already be on us if that was the case.”

  James pointed up at the ceiling. “These walls are pretty thick and shielded by the cell company that originally built it. Who knows how much shielding our guys added to it? Probably blocking the signal.” He paused and stared at the alien in deep thought before nodding. “Yeah, it’s got a tracker. Hell, I bet they’re out there right now searching for this one. They must have found her dead friends by now.”

  “Really? It’s a her now? That’s how this plays out?” Rogers grunted, the hours of movement without resting taking a toll on him. “You never stop, do you?”

  “Don’t get all excited, even a boar hog can be a she; it doesn’t mean I’m going to go exchanging phone numbers and asking her to prom.”

  Rogers shook his head in frustration and moved back against a bench. “If you’re serious, then have at it. Get the clothes off this thing,” he said, leaning back in surrender.

  Jacob sat up. “Why don’t you just ask it first?”

  James turned and looked back at him. “Ask?”

  “She knows we’ll find out anyhow. I’m sure she’s been listening—”

  Rogers sighed and shook his head. “And now here you go with the she.”

  Jacob ignored the comment and continued. “This is a good test; give it up the easy way or we find it the hard way. Let’s see what she has to say. We need to know what’s going on out there.”

  James shrugged, looking over to Rogers. “He’s got a point; why take her alive if we weren’t planning to use her for something?” The leader returned an apathetic shrug in response.

  James inched closer to the restrained alien. The creature had not moved since it was dropped to the floor hours earlier. Men along the walls, sensing something was about to happen, adjusted their posture, their full attention now focused on the creature.

  James grabbed at the alien’s uniform and yanked it into an upright, seated position, forcing its head away from him. He worked on the knot of fabric at the base of its neck and tugged the satchel from its face.

  The alien squinted in the light; its bright blue eyes closed tightly and slowly opened. Jacob saw sadn
ess in the creature’s face. He began to feel pangs of sympathy before he caught himself, remembering what this thing was capable of. He looked around the room and could see the other soldiers were having the same reaction. James reached ahead and pulled away a final strip of fabric that had bound its mouth. Once its lips were free, it swiveled its head smoothly, examining the room and the faces of the strange men.

  “Why have you taken me? Where am I?” she asked in a soft voice.

  Jacob was amazed that the tone was matter of fact, the English clean and crisp. She showed no signs of fear or displays of emotion. The creature sounded unconcerned, even though its eyes deceived it.

  “This is my summer guest house. I want to apologize in advance; the lake house is being renovated, and the housekeeper is home with a sick kid,” James said.

  “Guest house?” she asked, puzzled.

  Rogers shook his head, not amused. “Just ask.”

  James frowned. Using his thumb and index finger, he stroked the heavy beard covering his chin. “Are you wearing a locator?”

  Without answering, she gave him a puzzled expression.

  “Are you wearing anything that will allow your people to find you?” he said, speaking slow and deliberately.

  “Why would I have such a device? No member of the communal is any more valuable than another.”

  “So where is it? How do they track you?” James asked.

  She looked at him absently. “Why would they track me?”

  James cracked his knuckles, letting his eyes examine her uniform, looking for anything distinct. “Well… since you say there is no device, I guess we can cut all of your clothing off and shred it. According to you, I will find nothing and that would prove you are truthful.” He stared at the alien and saw her expression hadn’t changed. “Or, we search your clothing and find a device. Then—well, let’s just say it’d be better if I found you trustworthy, and you just gave it to me now.”