The Light: The Invasion Trilogy Book 3

by W. J. Lundy

  Rogers adjusted his binoculars and swiveled in the direction Jacob indicated. “Aww, hell, the cavalry is here.”

  Jacob watched as the things smoothly glided through the tall grass, approaching from the high ground on the opposite end of the valley. Lean and elongated, their bodies were covered in blue steeled fabric with gold piping on the arms; heads that seemed disproportionately large for their bodies were covered by helmets. Each one carried a type of compact battle rifle that was held with two hands. They moved gracefully, taking long striding steps. Two in the back and one farther to the front, they approached the line of Deltas and looked up and down the column before moving close to inspect the burning convoy.

  “I count three. We can take—” Before Rogers could finish, more came, moving swiftly through the tall grass. At a full run, their speed could challenge an African Gazelle.

  “Make that ten,” Jacob whispered.

  Rogers used a flat hand to silence the exchange and leaned in. Jacob saw the things crowd around the vehicles. Even though alien, it was easy to read their body language. Their heads darted and they faced out in all directions. They were afraid. The creatures moved back to the column of Deltas, shoving and swatting at them violently with their rifles, forcing the column back on the move. Soon the column was marching again, the aliens’ attention focused on the Deltas as they passed through the center of the valley.

  “Look at the bastards. They should be patrolling the tree lines; instead, their eyes are glued on the black eyes. We should hit them again out of principle,” James whispered. Jacob turned and saw him perched just over his shoulder.

  “Why aren’t they coming after us?” Jacob asked.

  Rogers dropped his binoculars, the group close enough now to see them clearly. “I don’t think they’re soldiers. Yeah, they’re armed, but look how they move; that’s no formation, just a gaggle. These things aren’t used to resistance.”

  “Well, something resisted. You heard that fight when we first got here,” Jacob rebutted.

  Rogers nodded. “You’re right. Still, I’m surprised at how soft their vehicles were; they drove straight ahead, turrets unmanned.”

  “Maybe this is a logistics convoy,” James said. “But wait, then that would mean… aww, shit.”

  Jacob looked back, alarmed. “It would mean what?”

  “That we’re behind enemy lines,” Rogers said.

  Chapter 6

  Jacob sat motionless, watching another convoy roll across the valley floor. The light faded while the team lay low, forced to hold position in the rocks. The enemy activity increased all around them. Streams of alien vehicles filed into the valley. Unlike before, these new hovercraft had red-painted, armored turrets on the tops. Several vehicles were supported by ground troops. The alien infantry was different in appearance from the supporting troops Jacob saw earlier. The new creatures wore red, armored plates on their chest and back in addition to the blue, steel fabric. Tall and broad-chested, they were carrying large shoulder-fired weapons and shielded battle helmets. Walking stooped over forward, they moved tactically with their heads swiveling.

  Jacob used a gloved hand to swat a bug from his chin, keeping his eyes glued to the enemy columns. “Where are they all going?” he whispered.

  “Away from here,” James answered. “From their posture, I’d say they’re looking for a fight.”

  Rogers pushed away from the rocks and spun around. “My guess is south, toward our remaining strong points. Those columns are coming from the base. Landing parties… pushing troops out toward our lines… that’s what I would do.”

  “We should get back to the cabin,” Jacob whispered, watching Rogers nod in response.

  James eased in between them and extended a hand in the air. “No, not yet.”

  “Why the hell not?” Jacob spat.

  “Because look at them, they’re loaded for bear. If they’re headed toward the guys holding the lines, or even worse, the refugee camps… We have others to think about now; the civilians in the camps, the men ahead in the trenches—”

  Rogers leaned forward and looked at both of the soldiers across from him. “We can’t stop this, James.”

  “No, but we can try to slow them down, allow our boys to organize. We have an opportunity here. If we hit them hard, they’ll be forced to spend resources on us.”

  Jacob shook his head in frustration. “We don’t know if there is anybody left to organize, and if we get ourselves killed? How does that help anyone?”

  “Fuck it then, you two go, Duke and I got this,” he said, running his hand down the dog’s back.

  “Can it, James, nobody is saying that. We just need to think, is all. Consider all the options,” Rogers said. “Hide or fight… either way we need to be smart. If we hit them again, they’ll certainly come after us, and if we hide, how long will it be before they find us?”

  “We shouldn’t be talking about this here; we need to get back to the cabin,” Jacob said, pulling his pack toward him. “We should load up and take the Blackhawk back to Stone’s place. If we want to fight them, we should do it from there, not here.”

  Suddenly, gunfire echoed across the valley. The men spun around and pressed back to the opening, Rogers squeezing between them with his binoculars in hand, searching the opposing high ground. On the far ridge line were muzzle flashes, tracers raining down into the alien soldiers. Rounds pinged and slapped into the soft earth around the convoy. A group of the red armor-clad infantry bounded ahead toward the ridge. Taking long leaps and landing with planted feet, they squatted and turned their rifles upward, opening fire as the vehicles’ turrets rotated and unleashed a barrage of blue flame.

  With the same voomp, voomp, voomp they’d heard before, the barrels released blue bolts of energy—something Jacob had never seen outside of a Hollywood movie. The bolts propelled forward, the blue energy sticking to and engulfing anything it made contact with in a bright blue flame. The noise of battle increased while the alien infantry and armored vehicles moved toward the ridge line. Soon, all of their forces were engaged, the bright light of their weapons forcing Jacob’s eyes away. The gunfire from the ridge lessened as whatever attacked was killed or withdrew over the ridge line.

  Rogers backed away and grabbed at James’ shoulder. “There will be time to fight later, let’s go.” The big man rolled then crawled away back toward the tower.

  James twisted and leaned back into the rocks, the flashes of the battle reflecting off his face. He switched his gaze between Jacob and his leader then grimaced, knowing full well that they were out-gunned. He dipped his head in surrender and conceded they wouldn’t win any fights tonight. James gathered his gear and followed Rogers into the night with Jacob close behind him, the flashes and voomps of the battle continuing at their backs.

  Jacob followed them to the summit of the hill and rolled over the top. They came out farther away from the tower. Rogers gathered them without speaking and led them out, walking quietly with his weapon up. The rifle fire had stopped, but they could still hear the voomps of the enemy weapons, and bright flashes lit the sky to their backs.

  Rogers led them over the side and down along the tower past the bunker entrance. He checked the lock then continued on down the trail without stopping. Jacob fell farther back, allowing James and Duke to take point as he lagged back into rear security. After a short distance, Rogers fell in beside him, checking both sides of the trail and looking at the illuminated dial on his watch.

  “We’ll get them out,” he whispered.

  Jacob nodded, understanding who he was talking about. “How?”

  “We’ll take the Blackhawk.”

  Jacob stalked several steps, scanning the dark path ahead and watching James’ cautious movements. “What if they shoot it down?”

  Rogers didn’t answer. He held up a hand, pausing Jacob then pulling him down to the muddy trail. Ahead on the path, James vanished from sight. Jacob was alarmed he hadn’t seen it; he didn’t know where the point man wen
t. He took the nudge, found the side of the trail, and dropped to a prone position with his rifle ahead of him. Looking right, he saw Rogers doing the same, perched up on his elbows with his eyes just over the sights of his rifle and looking intensely into the dark.

  To the left came a loud snapping of a branch and the shuffling of feet in the leaves. Jacob twisted, searching the thick vegetation for movement. A flicker of light appeared and a low voice sounded out, followed by a high-pitched voice that was lost and frustrated. “Joe, you don’t know where the hell you’re going.”

  “Shut up, they might be out here,” responded a tall man.

  Jacob held his rifle steady and dropped his head, waiting for a response from his leader. The men broke the thick vegetation and stumbled onto the trail. Moving into the open just ahead of Jacob, two men, both unarmed, stepped to the center of the trail that divided them from James. The men continued to argue as more people spilled into the clearing, crouching behind them. The others were silent, but from the silhouettes, Jacob could tell they were women and children. Smaller in stature and not burdened with gear, they cast a thinner shadow.

  He strained and looked across the trail to Rogers for a sign, seeing that his friend’s head was down and slowly shaking from side to side. Jacob watched him remove a small pen light from his sleeve. He lifted it up and flashed the strangers with three quick splashes of green light before leaving the beam on and focused on the faces of the strangers.

  The people on the trail froze; a gasp escaped the tall man’s lips. He raised his right arm as his left palm reached out in an attempt to shield the light.

  “Relax,” Rogers said just above a whisper. “We’re the good guys.” Rogers cut the light, the transitions from bright to dark leaving the strangers on the trail momentarily blinded. “Who are you? Where are you going?”

  The tall man lowered both arms and took a cautious step toward Rogers’ voice. “We’re just like you, trying to escape whatever is out there.”

  “You militia?” Rogers asked.

  “What? No. We’re from the village over the hill… well, what’s left of it. I’m Clayton, this is my neighbor, Ray.” The man reached back and pointed to the smaller individual beside him.

  “How many are you?”

  “Ten—no…” The man paused. Jacob could see him put his head down and turn to the group behind him. “Six, mister. We’re all that’s left.”

  Jacob spotted James further up the trail; he’d circled back, keeping Duke close by his side and his rifle at the low ready. Rogers nodded to him, catching a mock salute in response.

  “Okay, listen up. We don’t have time for ice breakers and a get-to-know-ya. So let me make myself extremely clear. Stay quiet… no more talking… turn up the trail, follow my point man. Everyone is on edge and I don’t want anyone getting hurt. I’ll get you all to shelter; from there we can figure out what’s what.”

  Chapter 7

  Jacob followed the trail, keeping the civilians just ahead of him. Observing them, their awkward movements and noise ripped his thoughts back to his days before The Darkness. He would be in the same spot—or even worse—as these people if everything hadn’t aligned for him. What at the time seemed like an incredible streak of bad luck, somehow kept his family alive. But alive for what? And how long?

  Heavy clouds drifted in and blocked out the moon. Snowflakes began to fall with the dropping temperatures. The people ahead suddenly stopped. Jacob heard James whisper, calling Rogers forward. More muffled voices joined the conversation at the front of the column. He stepped off the trail and passed the others, making his way to the front. A stout man wearing an unzipped, camouflage parka over a thick, black fleece was standing next to James. More uniformed men just behind him quickly grabbed control of the civilians and led them up the trail to the block house and field with the Blackhawk.

  “Looks like the cavalry has arrived,” Jacob said.

  His words caught the attention of the parka-clad man. The man’s head turned and caught the pale moonlight, causing a thick scar to glisten. Jacob immediately recognized him.

  “Masterson?” Jacob whispered.

  James looked up and watched him approach, grinned, and then waved Jacob forward. Masterson shook his head watching Jacob move out of the darkness.

  “Well, shit son! Anderson, you’ve outlived your expectations.”

  “Drill Serg—”

  “You can cut that shit, it’s Masterson now. I saw your buddy all busted up. You did well though, getting your woman and kid here.”

  “Laura. You saw them?”

  Masterson raised a hand, covering a cough, and then removed a canteen from his hip and brought it to his lips. Jacob noticed the burns on the man’s neck and hands. “I moved everyone up here to the block house. It’s not safe farther down the trail; it’s too close to the road. Their patrols are picking up.”

  “Patrols?”

  A second man with a heavily grayed beard, dressed in a well-worn canvas coat and faded jeans, moved in from the shadows and asked, “Who’s this you found?”

  Masterson clenched his jaw, returning the canteen to its carrier. “Anderson, meet Clem. Clem, this guy here is one of our recent graduates.”

  “Any good, is he?” the bearded man asked.

  Masterson grinned. “He ain’t dead yet, so good ’nuff.”

  Jacob shook his head and stepped closer. “I’m right here, you know. So what about these patrols?”

  Masterson grunted and fished a can of tobacco from a breast pocket. He stuffed a wad in his cheek then looked around before continuing in a low voice. “Yeah, they’re spreading out fast. Not sure what the hell is going on, but we had to get away from the road. Further back, and into heavier trees we get, the better. So far they stick close to those floating APCs.”

  “We hit a small group in the valley about a mile due east of here.”

  Masterson’s eyes narrowed as he eyed up at Jacob. “Yellow or red?”

  Jacob squinted, not understanding the question.

  “Their armor, was it yellow or red?”

  Duke whined restlessly and James sighed, stepping away from the end of the trail he was guarding, and interrupted. “Let’s move this conversation inside. It’s not safe out here in the open.”

  Rogers, along with most of the civilians, had already moved on and entered the small block house, leaving the rest of them alone in the dark. A small gathering of soldiers was standing sentry in the field near the lone helicopter while others patrolled closer to the block building.

  Masterson nodded his agreement and moved out of the way, waving his hand toward the house. James stepped off, leading the way with Jacob close behind him. The door to the blockhouse hung open. A thick tarp was draped over the opening to block the light inside from escaping. Jacob pulled back the tarp and stepped into the warm interior.

  He immediately felt the heat of the wood fire and smelled the savory scent of roasted meat and vegetables. At the front of the crowded low-lit building, people were sitting at two long picnic tables. Jacob stepped deeper into the space, feeling the crunch of dried leaves under his boots. He could see the strangers from the trail were already working on bowls filled with stew. Huddled around low burning candles that were randomly positioned over the plank tables, they ate quietly while being mindful of the soldiers lying in sleeping bags at the back of the house.

  Jacob let his eyes scan the place until he saw them—Laura and Katy in a makeshift kitchen along a side wall. Katy sat in a tall chair while Laura helped Buck, their pilot, fill bowls with stew.

  Jacob followed his stomach and moved off in their direction before being caught by the sleeve. He turned back to see Masterson looking back at him. “I know you’re eager to get off duty, but let’s get this out of the way first. Tell me about them… the ones you hit in the valley.”

  Rogers crept up from the dark with bowls in his hands. “What about it?” he said.

  “Who were they?” Masterson asked.

  Ro
gers passed a bowl to Jacob then pointed to an empty place at the table. Jacob nodded and dropped onto a bench seat beside him. “They were a type of support troops, riding tall and dumb with no cover. We took out three of those invisible cars. They were soft… unarmed from what I could see. Our AT4s and the fifty cut through them like butter.”

  As the men talked, Jacob watched Laura work in the kitchen, returning items to their place and chatting with the other women. She turned away from a stove and made eye contact with Jacob, casting him a knowing smile before turning back to finish.

  “What about reinforcements?” Masterson asked, forcing Jacob to look back across the table at the scarred man.

  Rogers scooped another spoonful of the stew before continuing for him. “A group of others responded, gold shirts, yellow sleeves. Later, some heavies showed up. They were different, bigger. Blue uniforms with red chest plates, heavier rifles. Then more vehicles with red turrets—probably their version of a quick reaction force. We were planning to let them pass,”—Rogers shook his head—“but some unit on the far side of the valley engaged them—”

  Masterson frowned and cut him off with a loud sigh. “Echo Company,” he said. “Explains the gunfire we heard and why they missed the rendezvous. We traveled separate. We went south of the road, Echo north. I figure that would have put them in the spot you’re talking about.”

  Rogers finished the stew and pushed the bowl away from him, wiping his face with his sleeve. “They put up a fight, but it didn’t do no good. Those things opened up with some big guns, crazy shit like we’ve never seen before. Last glimpse I got, they were chasing them toward Meaford.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me; The Colonel was always itching for a fight,” Clem added.

  “Who?” Jacob asked.

  Masterson used a chunk of bread to catch the last of his stew. “Our battalion commander; solid officer and good guy. He’s in charge of all the training companies. I know he’s been looking for a fight since they relieved him off the line and put him in charge of training.”