Earth (The Invasion Trilogy Book 1)

by Frances, Jessica

  I’m still in shock when I turn to see something flying through the air. It moves quickly, giving me only a few seconds to see what it is before it impacts the next hinema. It’s long, narrow, and shaped like a huge bullet with a small fire and sparks shooting out one end.

  Ival has been the one to always focus on weapons; I haven’t really cared to learn what the humans have invented past swords and small guns. Although, from what I’ve seen on a movie that aired on the TV once, I imagine this is what they might call a missile, or maybe a rocket.

  It hits the last hinema, which causes it to fly through the air, knocking it into an overturned bus. The hinema goes down, however a small fire from the impact quickly catches onto the bus. With what feels like seconds later, the bus explodes.

  The entire street rocks and buildings shake. One building a few down from me actually begins to collapse and the road I’m lying on cracks and splits. The window just to the side of me smashes loudly. I feel the glass shoot out towards me, and then cuts appear over my arms and no doubt my face.

  I don’t feel the pain, though. I’m in too much shock as another explosion happens, this one even closer. An invisible wave hits me and knocks me through the air. I land awkwardly on the road, my knee twisting uncomfortably under me. My head hits the rough ground, sending me almost to the point of unconsciousness. Pain radiates up my leg and my head feels as though I’ve split it open. Heat and screams surround me, but I don’t attempt to move. I just look up ahead.

  There is a bright light above me, yet I know it’s from the hinema, not the Earth’s sun. I wish it were the sun. The sun here that has mated with Earth is beautiful and bright.

  As the artificial rays beat down on me, I think about the sun and imagine that is what I’m staring at. It is a beautiful view to breathe in my last breaths to. Our own sun on Oden is far duller and smaller. It is nothing compared to Earth’s sun.

  I blink, feeling myself sinking, almost like I’m falling underwater, and then an even more beautiful image fills my vision.

  It’s the girl, the same one from the park. She is leaning over me, saying something to me. Her hands gently touch my face, causing my blood to race through my body, freeing me from drowning for a moment longer. I blink up at her, staring deeply into her blue eyes. She has eyes as bright as the sky and golden hair as beautiful as the sun.

  I lift my arm, finding it harder to do then it should. My hand cups over hers against my face, not wanting her to stop touching me, and then darkness takes over. I’m not aware of anything anymore, not even her warm touch.

  Chapter 5

  Mattie

  Hank grabs hold of my arm and tries to haul me up, but I pull myself out of his grip.

  “We need to go; it’s not safe here.” He’s glancing around us quickly.

  I don’t bother staring at the destruction around me. Instead, I look down at the unconscious guy I’m crouching over. His head has scratches and there is glass lodged in his face and arms with one particularly large piece wedged into his shoulder. While he’s unconscious, I just grab hold of it and yank it out. He doesn’t even stir as a trickle of blood seeps out. It’s nothing life threatening or needing stitches, I think.

  “Mattie, hurry up!” Hank growls at me.

  “Wait!” I yell at him.

  I roll the guy over and stare at his back, seeing the bullet holes in his t-shirt. I saw him bravely save that girl and I knew he had been shot. I feared he was dead, but he kept moving. I pull his shirt up a little, feeling the strange material underneath. Since there is no blood over his shirt, I assume quickly that he has some sort of bullet-proof vest on.

  “Will you help me with him?” I demand of Hank, rolling the unconscious guy onto his back again and checking one last time for a pulse, finding it easily. I grab his arm and swing it over my shoulder, sitting him up. His dark skin is covered in sweat and blood, and even though he isn’t conscious, his face changes into a wince as I move him.

  “We don’t have time for this; we need to get back to Lisa. This was a mistake.”

  “If we leave him here, then he’ll die,” I argue.

  Hank growls at me, moving down and taking the guy’s other side over his shoulder, helping me get him to his feet. Together we move.

  “You saw him before; he wants to die. He just stood in front of those things and didn’t even attempt to run. He doesn’t want to be saved.”

  “He saved that little girl’s life; he doesn’t deserve to be abandoned on the street,” I try to reason, using all my strength to keep us moving. His heavy weight pulls on my shoulder while my legs shake with the effort to hold him. He is a big guy; very muscled and taller than I’ve expected.

  Between the both of us, we hustle down the street, ducking low behind a turned over car when we see more of those machines coming our way.

  “Shit, they’re everywhere. What if they’ve gotten to Lisa?” Hank worries.

  I’m worried about that, too. I don’t say anything, though.

  We had only moved a couple blocks when we saw a bunch of military men that were heavily armed. We thought they’d be a safe bet to hide behind, so we followed them. I saw people disappear before my eyes, people lit on fire until there was nothing left of them, men and women shot dead.

  The machines are even more terrifying in the flesh. I’ve felt like throwing up every couple of minutes since we’ve arrived in this warzone.

  Vancouver is covered in tall buildings; it’s scary and shocking to see many of them crumbling to the ground. The machines are so large and so strong that I’ve watched one just knock into the side of a building, moving through the structure like it was water. The building just tipped over, no longer safe, and the screams I heard… There were many people in that building.

  We decided quickly that there was no way we could defeat these machines, especially not with only the three handguns and rifles between us. Ultimately, we’re just three untrained civilians, and Lisa doesn’t even have a clue how to fire a weapon really. I know she retained zero knowledge during our short lesson on the football field back at the campus.

  The new plan is to get away from this place and find supplies, get to Lisa and then head towards that forest that Hank mentioned to Lisa. Just as we decided that plan, I watched in horror as a small girl ran out into the road, screaming for her daddy.

  I took a step onto the street, not even thinking properly, when Hank grabbed my arm to stop me.

  Then I saw him—an angel so brave that he put his life on the line for the small child. He looked handsome as he ran out to grab her, but more than that; he was strong, fit and determined. He didn’t appear scared, and even after he was shot at for his trouble, he still saved that little girl. He stood in the way so she could get away safely. It was stupid, it was reckless, yet it was also the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.

  We round the corner of the street in time to feel the unnatural waves of wind and pressure hitting us. We all fly into the air, hitting the wall of a building before collapsing onto the ground. The shattering of glass from above sounds, and I instinctively cover the unconscious man with my body, feeling Hank lying over me as glass scatters over us.

  “Move!” Hank shouts after the glass stops falling.

  We both get up, dragging the stranger with us.

  The attack hadn’t been aimed at us. The military men we had followed have engaged with the machine, helping us to get away from it without further incident.

  We head back in the direction we came, and thankfully, we’re able to avoid those machines.

  What we do see next is a deli whose windows are all smashed in.

  I pull on the stranger which in turn pulls on Hank.

  “What?”

  “We should get some food and water,” I huff at him, feeling breathless and exhausted.

  The stranger is getting heavier by the second, and I haven’t eaten a bite of food since yesterday. If I’m going to try to maintain this level of energy, then I’m going to need some su
gar for energy and water to keep hydrated. I’m also going to need to figure out a way to keep food down. This entire situation is enough to take away anyone’s appetite.

  We lean the stranger against the wall of the deli while carefully looking around. I’m searching for any signs of the machines. I thought Hank was doing the same until he speaks.

  “My dad would kill me if he saw me stealing like this.”

  “It’s for our survival,” I argue, grabbing a plastic bag and loading it with premade rolls and energy bars. I throw in some chocolate bars for Lisa, hoping it’ll bring a smile to her face. She has a chocolate obsession as bad as my sister.

  Hank has two bags in his hand, loaded up with energy drinks and bottles of water.

  The shop and street are eerily silent when we exit the deli, the only sounds coming from the distance. This area looks mostly undamaged, even given the broken windows here, which tells me that it won’t be this quiet for long. I imagine people are hiding in the tall buildings, praying that they are left alone.

  I tie the bag into a knot, and then loop it through my arm, feeling the weight pulling on my skin and denting my arm. I have one of the rifles slung over my shoulder and a handgun tucked in my pants at the back. Hank has the same. He copies me with his two shopping bags. We need both hands to help hold up the stranger and move him.

  Maybe I’m an idiot for getting Hank to help him. He’s right; it’s a risk to take him and a waste if he really was ready to die back there. What if he was doing a brave thing because he wanted to die and he thought going down as a hero was the only way acceptable? We don’t need someone around us who is going to bring us down. All our energy is needed to help Lisa from falling into a deep depression. We won’t be able to do the same for a stranger. Plus, he’s going to be another mouth to feed. Is that a good thing?

  I stare at him as we make our way back towards where we’ve left the truck and Lisa.

  Even with the small cuts and blood, he looks attractive. He has a sharp jaw, very short, dark hair, and the body of a very fit athlete. Given that he is wearing a vest that has obviously saved his life, I’d say maybe he’s a soldier except he looks too young for that. Or if he is, he’d be in training still surely. He can’t be older than me, and I’m nineteen.

  “There’s the truck!” Hank huffs, pushing us faster.

  I hold in my protest as I can barely keep up.

  Lisa rushes out of the truck and Hank lets go of the stranger to run to meet her. I’m able to stop the guy from face planting it onto the road, but only just. I fear I might have pulled his arm out of its socket at the force I’ve used to yank his arm back to stop him.

  Lisa is beside herself. It takes Hank hugging her for long minutes before she calms down. She then moves and gives me a hug, assessing us both to make sure we’re not hurt. When she’s finally satisfied, she looks at the stranger lying on the ground.

  “Who is he?” She wipes her eyes, but new tears just replace them.

  “I don’t know.” I shrug.

  “We should get out of here now.” Hank nudges Lisa towards the truck then nods at me to help him with the stranger.

  We get him into the open back of the truck where I decide to give them some privacy and stay with the guy. Besides, I can tell Hank is angry with me. He no doubt thinks risking our lives for this man hasn’t been worth it. He doesn’t comment when I climb in the back with the stranger, though.

  I hear the beginnings of Lisa telling Hank about seeing a machine moving through here, the fear in her voice obvious, before he closes his door and their voices become muffled.

  I sit in the back next to the stranger, moving close to him to stop him from rolling around. He hasn’t woken once, making me wonder if he’s in some sort of coma. I trail my fingers over his soft skin, feeling the jagged pieces of glass as I do. It reminds me of my own shower with glass earlier. I assess my arms in the unnatural light we’re still covered in. I see only a few scratches, but no imbedded glass. My hair is another story. I undo my ponytail and shake my hair over the edge.

  The truck still hasn’t moved. No doubt Hank and Lisa are either talking or making out.

  Satisfied that at least most of the glass is out of my hair, I pull it back up in a ponytail and settle back next to the stranger.

  Hank starts the truck up soon after and we take off, back over the bridge, heading back towards America.

  My eyes feel heavy, and even though every time I close my eyelids I see the death and destruction I’ve just witnessed, I can’t help but begin to fall asleep. I know I should try to get some sleep while I can, so I lie down next to the stranger, the bumpy road and sway of the truck lulling me into a restless sleep full of terrifying machines and screaming.

  ***

  Opening my eyes, I first notice the sky. Its colour is orange and pink, the beginning of sunrise. In minutes, the sun will be up and blinding us.

  I don’t move, instead I listen to the truck’s noisy engine and feel the slight rocking underneath me.

  My head is resting on something soft, and I briefly wonder why there is a pillow in the truck when I realise there is something warm and solid against my side.

  I turn my head and find the stranger is staring at me, wide awake. I look directly into his bright green eyes, the shock of finding him awake jolting me into awareness. I shoot up and move away from him, looking down and realising I was using his arm as a pillow. That feels intimate, way too intimate for someone I’ve never spoken to.

  “You’re awake,” I state the obvious, feeling suddenly nervous. Not because he’s staring at me, barely blinking at all. Not because he’s incredibly hot. Not even because I know nothing about this man. I’m nervous because I don’t know how to explain why we took him, and whether he’ll be happy we’ve saved his life or upset.

  “You’re her.” He speaks with an accent, reminding me that many people are brought up speaking French in Canada, maybe not usually as a first language, but this guy could be from Quebec or just have traditional parents. Or be a tourist.

  “I’m Mattie,” I introduce myself. “Are you okay? You’ve got some glass imbedded in your face and arms, but I wanted to wait to get some tweezers before attempting to take them out.”

  “Mattie…” he rolls my name over his tongue. I watch him silently mouth it a few more times before he smiles to himself. I’m not sure of what to make of that action.

  “You hit your head back there; you might have a concussion or other issues.” I say the last part quietly, speaking it more to myself. I wonder if we’ve taken a huge risk to rescue someone who might be crazy. What if he’s some axe murderer? What if he’s going to try to murder us now?

  “Where are we? Where are the hinema?” He sits up, glancing down over his bruised and bloodied arms before gazing over our surroundings.

  “The what?” I shift again until I’m resting against the side of the truck. I wish there was more room between us. “We’re on the outskirts of Canada, I think. We got you out of the city and brought you with us.”

  “You saved my life?” He looks shocked, maybe even touched. For some reason, I think there is more behind those feelings. It feels more powerful than gratitude.

  “Me and Hank did, mostly Hank.” I nod towards the cab of the truck where I see Hank driving and Lisa resting her head on his shoulder. No doubt she’s sleeping.

  He nods, staring at Hank and Lisa for a moment before his eyes land back on me again.

  Does this guy ever blink?

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You were unconscious for a while back there.”

  He looks down at himself and rubs his shoulder. The one I feared I’d injured when I tried to keep him from hitting the ground last night.

  He moves his eyes over his front. He lifts one leg and then the other, wincing when he tries to bend his left knee.

  “Did you hurt your knee?” I ask, moving to stare at his legs and holding my hands over him without touching.

  “I’m not sure. I think I mi
ght have.” He nods when I wait for his permission and then I lift his pant leg up over his knee to get a better view.

  I wince for him when I see it looks swollen and bruised. I lightly prod the swollen skin, but he pushes my arm away.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Pain.” He winces at me, but does the opposite of what I expect. Instead of leaving it straight, he forces his knee to move, bending it before leaning forward, as if he’s going to crouch on it and put his weight over it.

  “Wait, you need to keep off it.” I rest my hand over his shoulder and try to ease him back, forcing him to change so his leg is back to being straight out in front of him.

  “I need… a cure? Medicine?” He sounds like he’s trying to find the right word.

  “I don’t have any pain meds, but I might be able to strap it up. It’ll help a little. Just stay down.” I push lightly again on his shoulder, noticing the padded material underneath his t-shirt.

  I move away once I see him settling back on the ground. I find a rag tucked against the side of the truck. We’ve got no proper supplies for him and there is no way any hospitals around here will be functioning. It just shows how fragile our situation is now. All it’ll take is one of us getting hurt or sick and we’re screwed.

  I open up the greasy rag and find that it’s a ripped up t-shirt. It’s easy to tear, which I do, into long, uneven strips until the whole shirt is ruined and in four separate pieces. I lean over his exposed knee, watching his calf muscle tense before my eyes. I again take note of how fit this stranger is. His whole leg is large with muscle; I know he must do some form of exercising, if not play an active sport.

  “This might hurt a little. I’m going to put pressure on it. How about you talk to me and try to distract yourself?”

  He frowns at my words, but before I can reassure him that I won’t try to intentionally hurt him, he asks me, “Talk about what?”

  “Well, how about you tell me your name, where you’re from, how old you are,” I suggest, holding the end of one of the pieces of material just below his knee to keep it in place then wrapping it around his knee, working my way up.