I chase Hank’s tail for long minutes, my feet hitting the ground hard. I can’t help looking behind me every few steps to be sure we aren’t being chased by one of those machines. The destruction of the town appears to be nearing the end, and going by the bodies scattered along the ground, I’d say the fight is nearly over here.
Hank veers off the road, entering a house by barging through the front door.
“Hank!” I hiss, already having lost him into the house.
The kids will definitely be terrified right now, so there is no need to have Hank bashing in doors and scaring them worse. How the hell are we supposed to tell them that they’ve lost their parents? That they’re orphans?
I glance at the photos along the wall as I enter at a slower pace, seeing many of the man whose death we’ve just witnessed. He looks attractive and fit. In a few, he’s wearing his police uniform, but in several others, he is in casuals with his son. Logan looks identical to his father; the same dark blonde hair, same light blue eyes, and they share their smile in the photos. They both look so happy, but now one is dead and the other is about to find out his father has been taken away. I don’t see a mother in any of these, so I assume she isn’t around.
That man had said Logan is five-years-old. How is someone that young meant to understand that his father is dead? I can’t even comprehend that my own parents are probably gone, and I’m nineteen.
I quickly grab the photos off the wall, breaking the glass against a side table and pulling out several photos as I go. Logan might want these.
“Mattie!” Hank calls out my name.
I follow his voice to find him standing in a study with a now open gun cabinet. There is space for four rifles, although there are only two left. There are also six handgun spaces against the wall at the back, but again, only two are left. In a box sitting on the ground, there are plenty of spare bullets for both, all scattered as though the box they were in has been thrown to the bottom uncaringly.
“Load the weapons up ready to shoot, then find a bag and put the rest of the bullets in there. I’ll grab the kids and then we get out of here, got it?” he commands, sounding every bit like his father often did on the few occasions I’ve met him. His father never seemed to be able to turn off his being in charge. I think Hank really would have made a great cop one day.
I nod, not that Hank hangs around to see it. I find a black gym bag by the back door and empty it of the towel, spare gym clothing and runners, then place the bullets in there. I already know how to load a rifle, but it takes a couple of tries to remember how to load a handgun. We were shown at the short training session we had on the football field back in Oregon, but that feels like a lifetime ago now.
When I’ve managed it, I place the photos in the bag and then quickly make my way to the kitchen.
I hear crying and yelling from a back room where I’m sure Hank is trying to convince the kids to go with him. He’ll need to gain their trust in as short an amount of time as possible. In this day and age, where “stranger danger” is widely known and taught, I imagine that is harder to do; with the limited time we have, maybe even impossible. I know I should go in there and try to help, but I’m dreading seeing their faces. I don’t want to see their sadness and fear. I don’t want to be relied on by a bunch of terrified kids; I’m barely holding it together as it is.
I open the pantry door and load up all the canned foods and bottled waters I find. With three extra mouths to feed, we’re going to need it. Once the bag is full, I zip it up and wear the straps as though it’s a backpack. I then take the four new weapons we have and decide I should suck it up and go check on Hank.
When I follow the voices, I find them in the main bedroom. Well, Hank and the two girls are there. They are clutching him as though their lives depend on it. I can’t see either of their faces as they sob into Hank’s t-shirt, but I do notice they look young and have bright red hair and small frames which are wrapped around him.
“We need to move,” I tell him quietly, watching both girls take a peek at me before hiding again.
“Girls, this is Mattie. She’s a friend and she’s going to help us get out of here,” Hank speaks calmly.
“Where’s Logan?” I ask, wondering if he’s hiding under the bed.
“He’s in the bathroom. He won’t leave.” He nods at the attached bathroom.
I place the weapons on the bed, knowing they’ll most likely just scare him, before I hesitantly walk into the bathroom, finding him huddled in the small space between the toilet and shower screen.
“Logan? My name is Mattie. Your dad sent me to come get you,” I tell him softly, trying to sound calm. I take a step closer, noticing he doesn’t move an inch. I crouch down in front of him, hoping to look less intimidating.
“Please, we need to leave. We’re in danger here.” I pause, wondering if I should have said that. I should probably try to act like everything is okay and not scare him too much. I’m so bad at this.
“You sound funny,” he whispers, his head coming up to see me.
“I’m not from here. I’m from a place called Australia,” I explain, grateful he’s speaking.
“Are you going to take me there?” He frowns at me, his small features squashing together, immediately making himself look sort of adorable.
“No, it’s a little too far to walk. I think we’re going to go camping in a forest. Have you ever been camping before?”
He nods his head slowly, still staring at me.
“Good, then maybe you can show me how it’s done.” I’ve been camping many times with Dad, but I hope this might make him more likely to come with us, not that we can leave him here. He’s coming whether he wants to or not.
“Where’s my dad?”
My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. “He told me how much he loved you, and how proud he was of you. I think he knew you’d be brave for those two little girls out there. They need you to be strong and show them that you’re okay. Can you do that for me? For your dad?”
Logan continues staring at me, making me begin to feel nervous. He and Marduke apparently have the same gift of making me feel uncomfortable by staring blankly at me.
Marduke. His name sends a painful stab into my chest. He and Lisa are sitting ducks with no idea that the machines are so close to them. Or, at least, I hope they have no idea. If they know, then it’s because the machines are at the house they’re in and they won’t be able to escape. Well, Marduke won’t, not with his injured knee and definitely not without our help.
“Okay,” Logan whispers, his head bobbing in a trembling nod while he stands on shaky feet. He keeps his head down as he steps towards me and wraps his arms around my neck, suddenly crying.
I stand, picking him up, realising that we can’t expect these kids to move on their own feet. They’ll be way too slow and likely to either get tired very quickly, or injure themselves.
I walk out with Logan wrapped around my side. I use one arm to tuck under him to keep him steady, and with my other hand, I take hold of the handgun and tuck it into my front using the waistband of my jeans to keep it in place. I grab hold of the rifle, then manoeuvre the bag on my back where it immediately feels heavy, and Logan isn’t a feather, either. This is going to test my endurance that’s for sure. Throwing and running with weight balls in training have nothing on this.
Hank has already situated the girls. One is on his back, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, and the other is on his side, tucked under his arm.
“Let’s go.” Hank nods towards the doorway and I step behind him. My legs are already protesting the added weight, but I push it aside.
Once we’re outside, I take a look around us, twirling in the street. There appears to be no machines surrounding us, however as we begin to make our way back to the place we’ve left Lisa and Marduke, I hear the now familiar screeches and metal groans that sound far too close for my liking. I wish we’d thought to find a vehicle to use.
Logan gasps, tuck
ing his face into my shoulder. I feel the material begin to dampen from his tears.
I can’t resist turning my head as I run, giving myself a few seconds to glance at what is behind us. Horrifyingly, I see three machines in the distance, heading in our direction.
They haven’t started firing at us yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
I hold the rifle tighter in my hands, running to catch up with Hank. Marduke and Lisa are standing in front of the same house we’ve left them in, thankfully still breathing and unharmed. We’re still over a dozen houses away from them when I open my mouth to berate them for just standing out front in what appears to be shock. Hank beats me to it.
“Run!” he screams at them and Lisa jumps from his demand, quickly taking hold of Marduke’s arm, pulling him away from the house and towards the forest on the outskirts of this town. I wonder if this is the beginning of the forest that Hank has been talking about.
I recall what Marduke said he saw back in Vancouver. There is no way we can outrun these things. If they follow us into the forest, we’ll have no chance of surviving, but maybe we can take them out before it comes to that.
I look down at Logan, who appears terrified as he clings to me. This might not go right, this might mean we attract more attention from the machines, but I don’t have a choice. They’re gaining on us, and the only person still near me is Hank, and he’s already holding the two girls.
I slow down, quickly diving to the side and leaning against the side of one of the houses we are passing. My hand touches the cold brick wall behind me, using its solid presence to ground me. From my angle, hidden between two houses, I’m blocked from view from the machines, but I can’t see the others from here, either.
“Logan, I need you to listen to me. I’m going to try and shoot these things. Stay at my feet, and if anything happens, just run as fast as you can into that forest,” I plead with him, peeling his arms away from my neck, already covered in sweat.
Logan is shaking in fear, almost changing my mind. This small child is depending on me. We’ve promised his father that we’ll take care of him. What the hell am I doing?
Then, one of the machines ploughs through a house on the opposite side of the road to us. Even given the distance, I watch bricks and debris flying through the air, some coming close to us.
I forget about Logan then. I just move to the edge of the house, my gaze taking in the open street in front of me. I lift up the already loaded rifle, taking aim at the machine which has just destroyed a house in its pursuit of Hank and the girls. I breath in deeply, ignoring the now dusty air, and adjust to the slight breeze swirling around us.
I shoot and miss, but only just. I quickly shoot again and this time I hit it square in the back of the neck. Just like Marduke has said, it seizes and drops forward, remaining unmoving.
Could it really be that easy?
I don’t have time to think on it further, though, because another one of the machines goes by, not sparing its fallen counterpart even a glance. I take aim again, this time hitting it the first time. It goes down just the same.
I know there is one more, so I hold my breath, waiting for it to pass us.
Logan is hugging one of my legs now. I look down to see his look of awe as he takes in the two fallen machines.
I hear the next machine coming, hear it’s destruction as it is no doubt crashing into everything in sight. Not even a house can hold these things back. It just shows how strong and indestructible these things can be.
I’m still expecting it to run past us along the same route as the other two. I’m definitely not expecting it to decide to run through the house we’re currently using to shield us.
The middle of the house crumbles under the force, and as the machine soars over us, bricks and drywall fly out in all directions. The part where Logan and I are hiding beside remains standing, but I’m still hit by the debris flying from the middle, dust sticking to my sweaty body.
The machine wastes no time in moving through the next house, and I lose sight of it in the cloud of dust it leaves behind.
“Are you okay?” I shriek at Logan, afraid of what I’ll find as I crouch down, taking hold of his arms.
He coughs away the dust in the air, nodding a little as I check him over. I count two small scratches on his arms, briefly noting that I have several bloodied scratches along my own arms and a small amount of blood along my ear. Nothing deep or in need of stitches, though.
“Grab hold of me,” I tell him, letting his arms come around me again.
I stand up and move forward, wary that more machines might be coming our way. I no longer see Hank, the girls or Lisa, but at the edge of the forest, I notice Marduke. He has something in his hands—a knife maybe—but that’s all I can make out. The last machine is heading straight towards him. He’s still a distance away, but I think it slows down, no doubt realising Marduke is making himself an easy target.
I sprint towards them, annoyed that he’s not actually moving at all. He’s just standing on the edge of the forest, not even bothering to hide behind a single tree trunk surrounding him, just waiting for the machine or maybe us. However, even with his sore knee, he should at least be trying to put distance between him and the deadly steel coming for him.
I run faster, worried that he only has a knife to defend himself with, knowing it won’t be enough. My grip over the rifle tightens as my fear begins to consume me.
Without warning, the machine begins to wildly shoot at Marduke. The ground and branches sway and break as the bullets make impact. Marduke drops and rolls himself, but I swear I see him jolt as the bullets impacted his chest.
I drop Logan to the ground and take quick aim at the machine. I don’t have time to take a proper shot, and because of that, I miss. I take three more before I manage to nick the edge of its neck, and that is when it turns its attention to me.
“Oh, shit.” I wince, all too aware of the boy gripping onto my leg. This is not good. “Logan, I need you to run to that man in the forest, right now!” I yell at him, pushing him lightly in Marduke’s direction before I take off in the opposite direction. I need to move it as far away from him as I can.
I know it’s chasing me; I feel the ground rumbling and goose bumps appear over my body as I instinctively know danger is near. I pray that Logan doesn’t get trampled in the process and that he’s listened to me.
Gunshots are fired at me, and then I’m lifted off my feet from the strong wave hitting me. I fly through the air for a moment before crashing roughly to the ground. I don’t miss a beat as I quickly jump to my feet and keep moving, reaching the first set of houses and cutting to the side to give me some cover from the bullets.
I sprint and dodge through houses, realising too late that I’ve dropped the rifle when I fell to the ground. I throw off the bag from my shoulders, enjoying the weightless feeling it gives me while I turn down a new block, catching my breath behind a garage.
I pull out the handgun and take off the safety, knowing I’ll need to be closer to the machine to fire this one. Taking deep breaths, I try to calm down; but when the garage I’m using to hide is crushed behind me, I know I have zero hope of calming down anytime soon.
I turn around, finding the garage is now destroyed under the machine’s heavy weight. I can’t help instinctively shooting at it to defend myself. I completely lose myself in my fear and forget that shooting it head-on will do nothing to protect me.
Then, I run out of bullets.
My mouth opens, readying the mightiest scream I’ve ever given, part of me giving up. I’m overwhelmed by the knowledge of my imminent death, fear consuming me entirely. In the entire time since I’ve first heard about the invasion, I’ve been able to keep my fear at bay. I’ve felt it, but never have I let it consume me. Now, though, I embrace it, knowing that soon it will be over.
As I finally voice my scream, I eye the machine that will murder me, only to watch it jolt forwards for a split second, and then I know something has hap
pened. It stiffens, the metal appears to solidify and darken as it begins to fall, directly towards where I’m standing.
I dive to the side, only missing being crushed by inches as I hug the ground, too crippled by fear to even move another inch or move away. My heart is pounding in my chest, tears are streaming down my face, and I’m shaking.
Footsteps quickly approach. I lift my gaze off the machine to find Marduke and Logan. He’s wincing every time he puts pressure on his injured leg, but it doesn’t slow him down. In his hand is the rifle and trailing behind him is Logan. His little legs hesitate as he gets closer to me, his eyes moving to stare at the machine.
I force myself to get up to my feet, my legs shaking even worse. I’m torn on whether to yell at Marduke for coming back, putting himself and Logan in danger, or thanking him for saving my life.
When he finally reaches me, he pulls me in for a strong hug, squeezing any oxygen in my lungs out. I hold him just as hard, needing the comfort. I let a few tears fall, my body still shaking badly. Being in his arms is a relief, and I strangely find strength being with him. My resolve comes back and the fear moves back to just a simmer in my body. I don’t know why Marduke carries my courage with him, but I’ll accept it if it keeps me moving.
I wipe away the stray tears, knowing I can’t show them in front of Logan, and when his arms tighten around me, I don’t push away. I selfishly drag this moment out with him even longer, feeling safe in his strong embrace while part of me wishes I didn’t have to leave his warmth.
“I was so worried. I thought… I can’t…” His grip turns bruising, and I tap his back. He loosens his arms and I pull back, looking at his tense and worried expression.
“I’m okay,” I lie. If there is anything I am right now, it is not okay.
“Please don’t ever do that again. Don’t risk your life for mine, never.” His words are forceful, but he brushes his hand gently over my cheek, his touch sending warmth over me.
“Well, maybe if you weren’t just standing out in the open in clear view of those things, I wouldn’t have to risk my life,” I say, not wanting to make him feel bad for his actions, yet also wanting to shake him and ask him what the hell is wrong with him.
Earth (The Invasion Trilogy Book 1) Page 12
