by Lundy, W. J.
He stood and bounded over the windowsill. Approaching the kill box, he saw grotesquely maimed bodies spread out on the ground. A Red struggling to rise caught his attention; Jacob raised his rifle and put quick shots into its body. Just then, a blue flash raced by him and he spotted a small squad of dazed and scattered Reds—somehow spared the carnage of the mines—slowly recovering and firing blind. He crouched for cover between the cars as Jesse leveled his machine gun and let loose several long bursts, shredding their bodies.
More gun shots sounded from the opposite side of the ambush; Jacob knew it would be Rogers and his own team moving in. Jacob crouched and shuffle stepped forward, his rifle up while he surveyed the damage. Slowly he stepped into the spoiled ground of the ambush site. The alien bodies at his feet were mangled and twisted, still smoldering from the mine. The car where the golden glove had been was now folded and crumpled, all of its windows gone, and a tattering of Gold bodies lay strewn beside it. Jacob saw the remnants of the glove near the bloody pulp of an alien body. He reached down and held it up, showing it to Jesse.
“Hold on to it, maybe it’ll bring us good luck,” Jesse said.
Jacob stuffed the glove into a breast pocket and stood his ground, watching while Rogers came into view from the far side of the remaining vehicle. The leader had his hand up, pointing out positions and directing other soldiers into security zones. He looked at Jacob then put two fingers to his eyes and pointed at the remaining vehicle, the only one not burning. They merged on it from opposite angles, walking in arcs so that their rifles were aimed into the rear compartment. The back crew space was empty. With a steel box and bench seats along the bulkheads, it didn’t appear to be any different from human transportation.
The front is where things changed. An empty driver’s seat sat in the center, surrounded by flat-panel consoles and operators’ chairs, also empty. There were sparks and smoke coming from some of the stations, but the vehicle still floated at an anchored hover and appeared stable. Rogers looked to a soldier behind him. “Go fetch me our alien,” he ordered.
The soldier gave a quick nod and turned to run away.
Jacob shadowed Rogers as he moved deeper into the compartment, examining the cold metallic surfaces, and the monitors filled with foreign text and flickering images. Most of the seats were small and compact, apparently built around the small frames of the guides. “What do you make of this?” he asked.
Rogers stepped closer and observed the bench seats, running his hands over the plush fabric and looking down at golden uniform items left behind. “This isn’t a combat vehicle; looks like some kind of mobile command center or intel truck. Probably why the Gold fucks were in it.”
“Sergeant,” the soldier called from behind. He and another soldier had Karina locked in a grip between them. Her face was distraught and sickly from having just waded through the bodies of her own dead.
She turned to Rogers. “Why have you done this? Why must you continue this senseless fight?”
“This is war, sweetheart,” James said, pushing up beside her. “Just be happy you’re on our side now.” He grasped her by the elbow, taking her from the escorting soldiers, and led her deeper into the crew compartment then dropped her into a seat behind one of the consoles.
Rogers moved so that he stood over her. “You say you’ll help us? It’s time to put up or shut up.”
She looked up at him. “I’m not sure what you expect me to do.”
“I want to know what’s going on in that walled city.”
She nodded her head and moved her hands to a graphite black bar. Before her hands took hold of it, Rogers grabbed her wrist. “No tricks,” he said sternly.
She swallowed hard and continued her hand to the bar. “This is a musing transport. It is not designed for battle. Guides, like myself, use it for meditation, to gather information, and to interpret findings. You should not have killed these people; they wouldn’t have fought you.”
“Spilt milk,” Rogers said. “You might say your Goldies are friendly, but those other guys sure as hell aren’t.”
Karina scowled, glaring down in disgust before looking up at him. “My people are no friend to the Ursus.”
James laughed, moving closer and plopping onto an alien bench. “Oh, so now it’s my people, and hey, look at me, I hate them just as much as you do. Bullshit, you are happy as a pig in shit back in your little hippie commune, and now you want to feed us your sad story.”
She shook her head before powering up the console, moving her hands along the graphite bar. “Before Earth, the Ursus captured my home world. There is no human word to describe my people; we were given the gift of the message a millennium ago. The Ursus came to enforce the message.” She paused, looking away. “The Ursus are not of my race, even though we now all share a common creator.”
“Their creator is Ursus?” Jacob asked.
“No, the Creator is the creator; the Ursus are just another member of our communal. We all serve a purpose under the eyes of the Creator—the Ursus are warriors; we are spiritual and technical minded.”
James shrugged, leaning back and calling Duke up to his lap. “Well, I say kill ’em all and let God sort ’em out. And just to avoid any confusion, I’m talking about my God, not your hocus pocus man behind the curtain gibberish.”
Rogers grunted. “Enough. Karina… what can you tell me about their base?”
Her hand moved along the bar, the display changing light patterns as it scrolled from left to right in bouncing waves of green and blue. She was unable to hide a shocked expression and pulled her hand back as if it were on fire.
“What did you see?” Jacob asked her.
She turned and looked him in the eye. “We can’t stay here. We need to get very far away.”
“Why? What’s happening?”
“They have initiated a dissolution protocol for this region. The Council has lost patience with the death of our… their Messenger.”
Rogers pointed at her. “Cut the bullshit. What does this mean in human?”
“They will leave and take the community with them.”
Jacob pushed forward. “No… we have to stop them.”
“That isn’t all,” Karina said in a lower tone. “They will release the wit—” She stopped, thinking of the human word. “They will release the Deltas on this area. Not only that, they will rapidly multiply the number of them. This region will be blocked off until nothing living remains. My people call this ‘the quell’.”
Rogers clenched his fist, looking at her then catching the fear in Jacob’s eyes. “When is this going to happen?”
“It’s already begun,” she said. “This patrol was out looking for survivors and recovering the dead; the last mission before the area is abandoned and moved to the south.”
Rogers turned and called to the pair of soldiers waiting at the bottom of the ramp. He removed a dog-eared notebook from his chest pocket and wrote a series of instructions then folded the paper and placed it into the palm of the nearest soldier. “I need you to get back to the tower and get on the radio, the same frequency they are using. The tower should have the power to override their transmission. I want you to call out to anyone and everyone in the area to converge on the community. The grid coordinates are on the paper. We have to attack and destroy it now, or everyone in this area will be killed.”
“Wait, I can do better,” Karina said. “This vehicle has the ability to change and rebroadcast the message. The community will not know that it’s happening.”
Rogers looked at her. “Why would you do that?”
“I told you… I am now one of you; I belong to your communal. It is our way.”
“Then get it done. Do it now,” Rogers said.
He turned back to the soldier. “I need you to get back to Meaford. According to our turncoat here, the area should be clear. You need to rally everyone and get them moving against the orb. We need to attack at dusk. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
“Move… we’re counting on you,” Rogers said. He paused and turned to Karina. “Can you drive this hippie wagon?”
Chapter Eighty-One
Laura stumbled into the darkness of the backyard. There were no lights, only the moonlight reflecting off the high steel wall circling the communal. She moved along a clapboard fence, pulling Katy behind her and searching for a place to hide. She knew Francis would return soon, and she needed to be gone. When he found Taurine, he would report her, then the Deltas would come. She crept along the fence, wending her way through an overgrown garden, deeper into high grass and away from the homes along the street.
The tall and solid wall reflected back at her mockingly; she wouldn’t be able to escape this way. A noise in the house startled her. Someone was pounding on the locked door—they would find Taurine soon. She needed someplace to hide, to get as far from here as she could. She pressed against the clapboard fence, searching the boards. She found loose panels and pried at them with her bare hands, scraping her knuckles until they bled. A board came loose. She pulled it free and worked on the one next to it, finding it easier to pull away.
Laura stuck her head through the hole in the fence, searching until she was sure the way was clear. Quickly, she whirled back and guided Katy through the opening ahead of her. She scrambled through just before a beam of light began searching the backyard. She could hear Francis calling out for her, shouting her name, making promises she knew he wouldn’t be able to keep. Laura took one last chance, reached through, and was able to stack the loose boards back over the hole. They wouldn’t pass a close inspection, but right now, in the dark, it may be enough to conceal her route.
Straining her eyes, she searched the neighbor’s backyard. Less than fifty feet wide, covered with tall grass, and an overgrown garden at the back, it had a similar layout. She squinted, spotting a dark shadowed area in the corner—a large garden shed. Laura clenched her jaw; it could work… it had to work. She ran across the yard, dragging Katy behind her, imagining a swarm of Reds already storming the house, finding their dead witch, and releasing the hounds into the yard to search for her. There would be no sparing her now, no second chances.
She tried to think of the brief survival lessons on evasion they taught her back at the base—what to do if they were attacked, if the Deltas got into the base and she had to escape. Back then she had a rifle and they taught her to use it, but even the military instructor training them knew the rifle would be her last resort. It was drilled into her that her best defense was to hide, and that’s exactly what she would do now. She approached the garden shed and found the door locked with a pin. It was easily removed, but she would have no way to re-lock it from the inside. The door would open freely without it.
The door slid open like a barn; she dragged it just enough so that she could slip inside. She guided Katy in behind her and let the barn door slide shut. Moonlight shone in through a small skylight placed in the roof and a row of smaller windows in the front. She looked around the space, gasping and out of breath. Her eyes watered as she tried to focus on the room in front of her. Laura crept over the wooden floor of the small shed and past a rusted garden tractor parked in the center. In the back was an assortment of garden tools and burlap feed bags. Laura pressed in between the bags and sat Katy on the floor.
Laura flinched when she felt a static pulse through the knowledge cap. Her hand gripped it and she pulled and tugged, trying to remove it. The thing was solid, gripping her skull tightly. On the far wall, she saw a workbench, and near it was a large tool chest. Laura knelt close and pressed her face against Katy’s. “Stay here, hun. Momma has to do something.”
Silently, Katy nodded her head. Laura forced a smile and kissed her forehead then crept across the space to the bench, feeling the static increase in her head. She knew it would have to be removed before they found her or crippled her with the cap. Finding a flat-tip screwdriver, she pried at the metallic device until her scalp bled, but the cap refused to move. She began to panic as the pressure in her skull increased. She searched the walls and saw a string of jumper cables hanging from a hook.
Taking the cables, she moved back to the garden tractor in the center of the room and lifted the tractor’s seat, finding a small 12-volt battery right where she hoped it would be. She began breathing heavily, feeling the rush of pressure from the cap as it blocked the fear of what she was about to do. She connected the ends to the tractor battery then placed the negative on her cap. She looked in the corner where she’d left Katy, smiled, and then touched the positive clip to her cap.
There was no explosion or arc of electrical sparks like she expected; just the pain of a sledge hammer coming down on the base of her neck. She fell backwards and tumbled to the wooden floor. Instinctively, she reached up to touch her sore head and noticed the plate was gone. She found it on the floor beside her, the surface of the gold plate scorched where the electrical connection was made.
She lay on the floor, her cheek pressed against the dry boards. Katy ran to her side and palmed her face. “Are you okay, Momma?” she whispered.
Laura reached up and held the girl’s hand. “I’m fine now.”
There was a noise from outside, a splintering of wood that she knew was the clapboard fence. From her angle, she could just see under the sliding door and watched as heavy boots stomped through the yard in her direction. A bright light passed over the door, breaking through gaps in the shed’s siding. She sat up and pulled Katy onto her lap, letting her eyes search the small space for a place to hide. Panicking, she knew it was hopeless; they were sure to find her.
Backing away, she scooched into the feedbags, pulling them in front of her. She heard hands grab the door, the wood clacking as something attempted to open it. The door slid partway before a distant explosion paused its motion. Laura heard human screams and gunshots followed by a man’s voice shouting challenges. Holes appeared in the door where bullets pierced the wood, and a blue flash filled the gaps with light.
More gunfire and explosions covered the sounds of human screams. Laura crept toward the door and peeked out. An alien soldier in a blue uniform with red sleeves lay dead. Another was sitting against the clapboard fence a distance away, its hands grasping its bleeding chest. Laura slid the door open and looked out, seeing bright flashes of explosions over the rooftops of the homes. In the space between the houses, a man was kneeling as he held a pistol and was firing into the street.
She watched as blue bolts raced around him. The man stood his ground, covering groups of fleeing civilians who had previously lined up to enter the transports. Laura called to Katy and lifted the girl to her chest. Now was her chance; she would mix in with the fleeing group and leave with them. She ran through the yard, racing along the side of the house. As she drew near, she saw more uniformed men with rifles squaring off against the aliens. She turned and ran into the street. Just before she reached the man with the pistol, she watched as he was hit in the chest by a blue bolt, his torso melting under the flame of it.
The man fell back, his body hitting the ground. Laura watched his pistol slide across the pavement. She rushed toward the body, quickly scooped up the weapon, and tucked into the waist of her pants as she ran past him. Holding Katy tight, she found her way into the mass of fleeing civilians and tried to disappear into the group. It was chaotic, all of them running for a distant gate at the end of the street. Seeing the soldiers, their soldiers, fighting back against the aliens, she thought of Jacob. Laura tried to search the human faces for her husband, hoping he was alive and safe.
Running closer to the gate, she saw the uniformed men exchanging fire with the red-sleeved soldiers, the men desperately trying to create an exit for the civilians to escape through. The Deltas were clustering and stampeding into the opening, trying to plug the gap. A small car raced through the gate from outside, charging directly at the horde of Deltas. Bodies broke and were tossed aside as the car hit them, knocking several back and creating a wake of death i
n its path. The car reached the center of the horde and screeched to a stop. The Deltas swarmed and piled onto it before the car exploded into a blinding fireball. The blast knocked Laura back, the blinding flash pushing a shockwave over the crowd.
The crowd of civilians broke up and scattered, panicked men and women breaking in all directions. She followed a group of women behind a house. Holding Katy to her chest, she struggled to keep up with them. Laura didn’t know where they were going, but she didn’t want to be alone, and she wanted to get away from the frantic fighting at the gate. She was rocked by a round of deafening explosions and felt the ground shudder.
“The wall is down!” a man ahead of her screamed, pointing to the far off structure. As he’d said, Laura could see that a large hole had been punched into it. Engulfed in bright yellow flames, the skeleton of a large fuel truck rolled through the breach.
The crowd turned and headed for the breach, desperate for a way out. Laura felt a hand grab her as a man’s voice called her name; she turned and stared into the face of Francis. She reeled back, keeping Katy away from him. He held his hand out to her and said, “Come with me, there is still time to escape.”
Laura backed up, not speaking and shaking her head.
“It’s okay. I understand why you did what you did,” he said, looking at her with compassion. “Please, this is all getting out of control. I have a transport; we can escape together.”
An attack helicopter flew in close overhead, flying low over the group. The civilians ducked and cheered as the small aircraft made a gun run against the orb in the center of the community. As Laura stood and looked toward it, she let a smile cross her face.
“Are you enjoying this?” Francis shouted at her.
