Burnout (The Invasion Chronicles Book 1)

by Alex Barnett

  Across the court, Lydia could see Caleb had pulled the truck through the barricade and backed it as close to one of the ruined windows on Jill and Andrew’s house as he could. He was lifting cardboard boxes packed with whatever food and water supplies were left out onto the lawn. After he had about four boxes lined up, he hopped through the window himself, and loaded them up into the truck bed.

  She tried to focus on him, ignoring the devastation that encompassed the court. Most especially ignoring the pile—pile—of Burnouts that had been swept against the barricade like garbage swept by an ocean wave. She didn’t want to look at broken bodies and twisted limbs. She could separate herself from the reality of what the Burnouts were when they were trying to kill her. In death, though, they were people again. People she might have seen in the street when she and Ava went running. People she might have known.

  “Everything ready?” Grandpa asked, taking one of the bags from Ava. Lydia rolled her bedspread into a more compact ball and nodded.

  “We grabbed as much as we could,” she said.

  “Good…that’s, that’s good.” Grandpa sighed. He hoisted the duffle bag onto his shoulder and glanced around the front hall again, and clenching his jaw. “God, never thought I’d be leaving like this,” he muttered. Ava let out a ragged, watery chuckle.

  “You mean you never planned for a robot zombie apocalypse?” she asked, going for lighthearted and missing the mark by about a mile.

  Grandpa smiled at her anyway. “No, I can honestly say that I never planned for a robot zombie apocalypse.”

  Caleb finished with whatever he was loading up. He darted back into the house, but came out only a few moments later, shaking his head. The lump in Lydia’s throat grew larger, squeezing the breath from her lungs. This was it. There was no turning back, now.

  “Come on now…square up,” Grandpa said softly. So softly, in fact, that Lydia wasn’t certain he was talking to the two of them at all. “Go ahead and get in the car, girls. Reed and I—we’re gonna see what we can do for Andrew and Emily.”

  Lydia knew she should offer to go help. They wouldn’t be able to dig a grave in the time they had left—not in the rocky soil and clay that made up the ground around here—but she could at least help them move the bodies up to one of the bedrooms. Give them some dignity. The words stuck in her throat. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle seeing what Andrew had done rather than be Burned. Seeing Emily’s kind eyes blank and solid white. Her stomach churned, but she couldn’t make herself follow her grandfather across the court.

  “You gonna be okay?” Ava asked as he made his way towards Caleb, side-stepping thick streaks and puddles that were turning a rusty brown under the early morning sun. Lydia closed her eyes against the sight and tried to take shallow breaths. There was a crispness in the air that promised a cool day, but a smell that felt like it coated her nose and mouth lingered over the court. Meadowbrook reeked of death.

  “Are you?” Lydia countered. She leaned against her friend for a moment, staring out at the place that had been her home, and would never be again. Even if the Army rolled through the town tomorrow and got everything back to normal, Lydia didn’t think she would ever be able to feel safe here again.

  “Better go get Zack; I think he was in the kitchen. I’ll go put the stuff in the Jeep,” Ava said, holding out her hand for Lydia’s bag.

  Lydia nodded and passed it off to her, watching as Ava dragged the two duffle bags down the driveway and began searching for a place to stuff them in the cargo space. She laid her bedspread over the porch swing and headed back into the house, calling for Zack as she entered the front hall.

  “Back here!”

  She followed the sound of his voice back to the kitchen again, finding him sitting cross-legged up on the island. His cane had been folded in on its handle, and he spun it in idle circles on the countertop.

  “You ready?” she asked. “Everything’s almost packed up. Grandpa and Caleb are…they’re over at Jill and Andrew’s house.”

  Zack nodded to himself, shifting so that his legs hung down the side of the island, his heel making soft, hollow thunks as he kicked it gently. He made no move to jump down, instead tilting his head. “Where’s Ava?”

  “Putting stuff in the car, why?”

  In answer, Zack pressed his lips together, shifting back and forth with an expression of deep discomfort. “Cause I want to talk to you about something. Alone.”

  Lydia raised an eyebrow, though he couldn’t see it, a whisper of unease stealing through her. “About what?”

  “This, mostly.” He made a vague gesture between the two of them. “Us. Why me and Caleb had to find you.”

  “You said you had a vision that we could protect each other.” The unease flared into suspicion, a kernel of wariness forming hot and hard in the pit of her stomach. He must have heard it in her voice, for he started shaking his head back and forth.

  “I did! I do, no, I’m being straight with you about that. Believe me, a huge chunk of why we’ve been circling around Columbus for the last couple weeks is because I know my brother lives longer when you’re watching his back. Me too, for that matter.” He offered a tentative smile. “So does your grandpa, and Ava. We help each other, Lydia. We really do.”

  “I’m sensing a but here somewhere,” she said, and couldn’t quite quash a note of fatalism. Of course there was a catch—there had to be.

  To her surprise, Zack curled in on himself, his face twisting into a mask of weary, bitter grief. He tugged at a twist of hair hanging in his face, and when he spoke again, he sounded far away. Lost, somehow.

  “No one’s going to figure out the Burnouts,” he said softly. “The cavalry’s not coming, no matter what any damn broadcast tells you. It’s Invasion. Not just Invasion-era, but Invasion. Whether the Burnouts came from some asshole tripping over an antique weapon, or it just took the Invaders seventy years to get to their end game, I dunno.” Lydia’s breath stuttered to a halt, his words seeming to hang in the air between them. She didn’t want to hear them, didn’t want to process them, didn’t want to believe them. Not because she thought Zack wasn’t being truthful.

  Because she’d never heard anyone willing to say it out loud.

  Of course that was the only explanation that made sense. She’d known it the moment she had seen the first news reports about the Burnouts. So had every other person on the planet. She’d seen it in the eyes of every news anchor reporting on the crisis, heard it in the voice of every “expert” they called in to talk about the Burnouts. It lurked just under every nameless, faceless warning to remain calm and wait for help. Everyone knew—but if they talked about it, if they let it out in the open, then they would have to face what that meant: that Invasion was no longer a closed chapter in their history books.

  That maybe it never had been.

  Lydia clenched her fists, biting down on the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood. “What does that have to do with why you came looking for us?” she asked, and was proud of how steady her voice was.

  “I’ve been having visions since I was three,” Zack said. “Sometimes I think I’m the luckiest person in the world, ‘cause I was born blind and they let me see. I know what colors look like, what sunshine and the sky looks like. I know what my family looks like. And sometimes I think I’d give anything to be able to turn them off—because I also know exactly how many ways a situation can go straight to hell. I know how scared my mom was when she got t-boned in an intersection. I know exactly where my dad Burned, and how much he hurt and how hard he fought to stay alive for me and Caleb. I know what my brother looks like covered in blood, screaming. And the worst part, the worst part, is sometimes I know how to change things. I know what we have to do, which street we have to turn down, how long we have to wait. But a lot of the time I don’t. I don’t know what helps and what makes things worse—I don’t know there’s a goddamn horde of Burnouts waiting to take the place of the one you just led off.”

 
He stopped, breathing hard, and Lydia could only stare in stunned silence. He dashed a hand across his eyes, hissing through his teeth as he tried to pretend he wasn’t on the edge of tears.

  “There’s things, there’s things that’re gonna happen if you stick with us, Lyds. Horrible things. And I can’t—I can’t tell you all of them, ‘cause I don’t know if telling you changes something. If you’ll hesitate or not hesitate, and something that should happen doesn’t. But I need you to understand why we came here, you more than anyone. I’m not going to lie to you. I won’t…I swear I won’t ever lie to you.”

  He held out his hand, palm up, the way he had the night before.

  Oh.

  Oh.

  “There’s something I’ve known for a month now,” Zack said. “I haven’t even told Caleb, but I need you to know.”

  Lydia stared down at his hand, her heart racing at the memory of what sharing one of Zack’s visions had been like the night before. Zack was silent, not demanding an answer, but not withdrawing his hand, either. Lydia wanted to tell him to wait for her grandfather or Ava to get back—didn’t want to be alone when the rush of images and emotions hit. But…if they were really going to work together as a group, they would have to trust each other. She wanted them to trust each other.

  She took his hand.

  17

  It didn’t hit her quite as hard, this time. She was expecting the rush, the sensation of spinning out of control, of the air being sucked from her lungs. Expecting it didn’t help much, but it did help. She kept her eyes squeezed shut this time, concentrating on the feel of Zack’s hand in hers, letting it anchor her to the present moment. When she could catch her breath again, she slowly opened her eyes.

  She was standing in her kitchen, across from Zack. Ava was just outside the house, and Grandpa and Caleb were nearby, tending to the bodies of the friends they had been able to find.

  Lydia was also standing in a wide open field, grass soft under her feet and a warm breeze whispering across her skin. The Columbus skyline was visible, cutting across a wide expanse of crystal blue sky, but far in the distance; they were at least twenty or thirty miles outside the city.

  They. There were other people around her. Screaming, crying, embracing, laughing in loud joyful bursts.

  Laughing?

  Lydia stood stock still in her kitchen, her hand suddenly tightening on Zack’s.

  Lydia took a few faltering steps forward, staring around her in relief and happiness. They’d made it. They’d actually made it. She was exhausted, the kind of bone-deep tiredness that left her feeling drunk and slow, but she couldn’t bring herself to go seek out a bed—a sleeping bag, a convenient pile of leaves, any horizontal surface—not yet. She’d spent so long thinking this day would never come.

  Lydia gasped out loud in her kitchen.

  In the field, she closed her eyes in relief, reveling in the knowledge that they had won. They were safe, and though the fighting wasn’t over yet, it would be soon. They had done it. She looked around their little encampment, searching out her friends and the people that had become like family.

  In the kitchen, Lydia swayed dizzily as face after face flashed through her mind—people that were familiar, people that were strangers, people who inspired a feeling of fierce, loving devotion, and people who evoked simple friendship or camaraderie. They swirled before her eyes too fast to focus on.

  In the field, Lydia whirled around dizzily when someone grabbed her wrist, and she found Zack’s laughing face only a few inches from her own. With a pulse of wild joy, she threw her arms around him, laughing out loud when he picked her up and swung her around in a wide circle.

  “We did it!” he wheezed, still laughing as he spoke. “We actually did it!”

  God, how long had it been since she’d seen him this happy? This carefree? How long had it been for her, for that matter?

  “Lydia!” a familiar voice called, the same breathless, incandescent joy that had enveloped the camp hanging thick on every syllable of her name. She gave Zack another hug and turned towards the voice, searching the crowd that was gathering in the field…

  And nearly lost her balance, stumbling against the island and almost knocking Zack from his perch. He reeled back, one hand going to his head, though thankfully there was no immediate nosebleed this time. Lydia clutched at the island, panting like she’d run a marathon as she tried to make sense of what she’d just seen.

  Trying to shove back against the hope blossoming in her chest.

  “That…was that,” she stammered, while Zack pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes as though he was trying to ward off a headache. She leaned forward until her forehead was almost touching the cool counter, struggling to get her breathing under control.

  Zack climbed down from the island gingerly, leaning back against it so that they were more or less eye-level. He tilted his head towards her, his expression deadly serious despite the lines of pain that still creased his forehead and the corners of his eyes.

  “We can beat them,” he said, in a voice barely above a whisper. As though he was afraid of being overheard. “We do beat them.”

  A wave of emotion so intense it almost sent her crashing to her knees swept through Lydia. Fear and confusion and wonder and hope, in such a jumbled mix that she couldn’t tell which she was feeling at what moment.

  “This is why we had to find you,” he whispered. “We can beat them, if we’re together.”

  Lydia straightened slowly, swallowing against the lump rising in her throat. “How?” She couldn’t even imagine how they would go about defeating the Burnouts. What kind of force it would take.

  He turned a slightly sheepish grin on her, rubbing the back of his neck. “Welllll, that’s the down side. What you saw is what I got. I don’t know how we do it, or who helps us. There’s other people we have to find, places we have to get to.”

  “But we can beat them,” she said slowly, trying the words out.

  “You saw it, too. That moment, those people, that place—that wasn’t just temporary safety. We do something that saves everyone.” He sobered a little, some of the sadness seeping back into his expression. “We can’t tell anyone yet, though.”

  “What?! Why the hell not?”

  She couldn’t keep something like this from Grandpa or Ava—she couldn’t! Zack was shaking his head sorrowfully, though, and tapped along the counter until he found her hand, laying his fingers over hers.

  “Because we don’t know what we do. How that happens. I wasn’t kidding about changing things, Lydia, I don’t know what set of actions has to happen for that future to become a reality. Right now, it’s just one possibility. The best one, sure, but still just a possibility. The more people we tell, the more chance there is someone accidentally changes something.”

  Lydia regarded him silently, coming to the reluctant realization that he was probably right. She wanted to run out right now and find the path to that moment in that field, no matter what it would take to get there. Who wouldn’t? She turned her gaze to the window over the sink, staring out at Grandma’s lavender bushes.

  If this was going to work, then they had to trust each other. She stopped fighting against the hope, let it bloom bright and beautiful in her heart.

  “Well then,” she said, “we’ll have to figure out how we make that happen, won’t we?”

  Epilogue

  They exited the house for the last time without a word, Grandpa closing and locking the door behind them. Both Ava and Lydia pretended not to see when he leaned against the door for just a moment, resting his forehead against the wood. Lydia trailed her fingers over the porch swing as they walked down the steps. Silently, she prayed that the house would somehow be protected.

  Caleb and Zack were already in the truck, idling just at the end of their driveway, and they both jumped out to come and help pack up the last of the boxes and bags. Grandpa started checking their packages one more time, then froze, his eyes widening as he swore out lou
d.

  “Hang on, I’ve gotta run back in,” he said. “Your grandmother’s things. I need to grab—”

  Wordlessly, Lydia pulled her chain out from under her shirt, holding it up so Grandpa could see the ring. Relief swept over his features, and a wistful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  “That’s my girl. Thank you,” he said. Lydia started to pull the chain over her head, but Grandpa laid his weathered hand over hers. “No, no you keep it for now. Safer that way.”

  A thrill of surprise ran through her, but Lydia just nodded and slipped the chain back under her shirt.

  “All right, you girls get situated in the car. I’m going to do one more sweep in Eric’s house; make sure we got all the ammo and—”

  A loud crash interrupted him. The sound of wood hitting the pavement echoed around the court, as loud as an explosion in the eerie quiet of the neighborhood. They all jumped, Caleb and Grandpa immediately whirling around toward the front of the barricade with weapons drawn. Lydia dropped her comforter on the ground and raised the blaster, while Ava stepped closer to Zack and laid a hand on his shoulder.

  Up by the rusty carcass of the van, another few pieces of furniture tumbled to the ground. Again, the sound echoed around the court, and Lydia held her breath. Caleb and Grandpa moved to stand shoulder to shoulder, placing Ava and Zack square behind them. As Lydia watched, breath catching and freezing in her throat, a pale, silver-veined arm wound around the edge of the hole in the barricade.

  Lydia tensed as the Burnout grasped the rungs of another of Emily’s dining chairs. It clattered to the ground when the thing used it to leverage itself over the scattered debris, spilling into the court without a sound. The Burnout stumbled, nearly crashing to the ground as it staggered over the fallen corpses that littered the ground. It was dressed in a pair of black track pants and a matching t-shirt, as though it had been out for a jog before it Burned. A spill of bright red hair tumbled down its back and over its shoulders, tangled and matted with dirt and who knew what else.