The Light: The Invasion Trilogy Book 3

by W. J. Lundy

  “We can’t. We have to get back for my family… for the others… there could be survivors,” Jacob said.

  Men were already moving into the woods, vanishing in the thick trees like they’d been instructed. Masterson rushed ahead, passing a cluster of men and closed the distance, stepping between Jacob and the older man. “Clem, I appreciate your help, but you’re not in charge here.”

  “Fuck who’s in charge. I’m just trying to keep you lot alive. Soon, everyone at that campsite will be dead, and whatever is there will come back at us. Then we’ll be sandwiched between them and the things just over the hill we’re already running from.”

  Rogers stepped up next to James and cleared his throat. He spat on the ground near Clem’s boot. “You leave those people to die back there, and you’ll be running from me also.” Rogers stood up straight, adjusting his rifle, while James fell in behind him.

  Clem slowly panned down, laughing, looking at the wet spot on the pavement before looking up to shoot a sadistic grin at the bearded scout.

  “Nobody cares about them. Right now it’s about survival, and if they don’t have the means, well, then we can’t go sacrificing ourselves for them.”

  Rogers clenched his jaw and nudged a step forward. Clem let a hand drift from his hip to rest on the grip of a holstered sidearm. Turning to face Rogers, he squared his shoulders and stepped a half pace forward, inviting the threat. “Master Sergeant, I suggest you get your people un-fucked,” he said without looking away.

  The muscles in Jacob’s neck tightened; his eyes locked on Clem’s hand wrapped around the butt of the pistol. Instinctively, he pulled his own rifle closer. Distant combat echoed behind them, rattling through the trees, reminding them of the people dying at the camp.

  Rogers shook his head slowly and his expression hardened before turning toward James, ignoring the others. “Let’s go—lead us out. Jacob, keep that rifle up and ready; you kill anything that isn’t us.”

  “What about them?” James asked, dipping his head at Clem as if he were an object rather than a person.

  “Let them run if they like; it’s not our job,” Rogers said.

  “You’re all going to die. There aren’t enough of you to make a difference,” Clem shouted.

  Jacob turned away to follow his leader; he met eyes with Masterson, who slightly dipped his chin before looking at Rogers. “Get to your people, then meet us at Emmerson’s Ridge. Do you know it?” Masterson said.

  “I do,” Rogers answered, stepping off into the destroyed convoy advancing in the direction of the camp.

  ***

  They ran directly at the fighting, sacrificing caution for speed. Moving out of the narrow hills and onto an expanse of flat ground, James guided them to the shoulder of the paved road, Duke trotting by his side. The closer they got, the more Jacob could hear the sounds of screaming people, the noise fueling his adrenaline and blocking out the signals from his tired muscles begging him to quit.

  At the cutoff where the paved surface of the road met the gravel, they spotted the first of them—a cloaked vehicle, its surface reflecting the same liquid sheen they’d seen in the valley. With no time to hide and without warning, a red turret materialized from atop the mirrored shell and rotated in their direction. A bright flash burst out, and Jacob gasped for breath as a blue beam raced above his head, the oxygen in the air feeding whatever energy the projectile consumed. Jacob felt the heat on his neck, and the screech of the shot screamed at his ears.

  He was bumped hard and knocked off course as Rogers moved him from the road and into the concealment of the trees. James’ rifle barked somewhere ahead of them, single shots in rapid succession. “Contact left!” he shouted before firing another salvo.

  Rogers stopped abruptly and dropped next to a tree, bringing up his own rifle. Jacob followed his movements, doing the same and dropping in line. Rogers’ weapon joined the fight while Jacob spotted a target of his own—a broad-shouldered creature dressed in blue, the red stripes seeming to illuminate the sleeves of its arms. Covered by a wide, glossy helmet, the creature’s head swiveled. The helmet turned, and a dark tinted screen locked in Jacob’s direction.

  The creature seemed to lean back slightly, surprised by his presence; its weapon rose to its shoulder and leveled out. Jacob was faster and already on target. He applied pressure to the trigger, feeling the buck of his rifle. The creature lurched back then spun, collapsing to the ground. James was back on his feet, running toward the camp as he shouted over Duke’s barking for them to move up. Jacob could see the woods ahead flashing with the bright blue lights of the alien weapons, the report of the friendly rifles’ resistance fading.

  Without consideration for their own safety, they rushed on, already committed and ready to put themselves in harm’s way to shield the civilian withdrawal. Jacob exited the trees and dropped into the clearing of the athletic field. They had egressed at the center of the longest edge of the field. Rogers and James close to him, they were in a perfect flanking position.

  Jacob could see the blockhouse far to his right, the structure now engulfed in blue flames. He searched a mass of friendlies just in front of the blockhouse, some fleeing while the wounded on the ground were making a final stand. He couldn’t find Laura anywhere. The burning wreckage of the Blackhawk was on the opposite end of the field just inside a copse of trees—he prayed his family wasn’t there. James moved close to him and grabbed his shoulder, taking his eyes from the burning wreckage of the helicopter and back to their immediate front.

  “We’ll look for them later… now, we fight,” James said.

  Jacob saw the creatures moving forward, firing at the wounded men on the ground. His anger blocked any recollection of fear. The aliens were close, less than fifty meters, and lined up in a makeshift skirmish line. Formed up like an opposing football team, this was a clean-up crew, organized to finish those left in the fight. Marching ahead, they approached the blockhouse, weapons up and firing rapidly at anything to their front, the blue beams exploding and engulfing on contact, knocking the fleeing soldiers and civilians to the ground.

  Watching the carnage, James snarled, “We have to stop this! This isn’t an attack… this is a massacre.”

  Still in the aliens’ blind spot, the bearded man raised his rifle and snapped off three quick shots, took a deep breath, and fired again, laying down a base of fire into the blind profiles of the lined up creatures. The nearest alien crumpled; the others in the line, still preoccupied with the targets to their front, were oblivious to the attack on their flank. Jacob dropped to a knee and opened fire determinedly. Selecting targets of his own, he locked on center mass of each creature and watched them tumble with the impact of his rounds.

  The remaining aliens turned, suddenly aware of the threat at their flank. At less than fifty meters away, they lunged, bringing their weapons up as they advanced. The Assassins were ready and already stable in their firing positions. Jacob was on his feet. Stepping into the field, he stayed on the trigger, shoulder firing his M14 until the bolt of his rifle locked back. Jacob watched as his rounds cut through the creature’s shirt, others smacking against its helmet and visor. Whatever armor the things wore, it was useless against Jacob’s weapon.

  The creatures were down, the gunfire ceased, and the Assassins found themselves alone now in the field, surrounded by the dead. James moved to one of the dead and kicked a heavy metallic rifle away from its gloved hand. He drew his knife and stood by the body encased in the blue suit. At over seven feet, the thing was taller than a human, its chest wide and shoulders at least double that of the largest man Jacob had ever seen.

  “Looks like they skip leg day,” James said, moving closer. He pointed at the creature’s lower body, which appeared scrawny in comparison to the barrel chest.

  “What are you doing?” Jacob asked.

  Behind them, the fire around the downed chopper grew, the dry grass of the field and nearby woods now in flames. Rogers pointed in the direction of the helicopter
. “We can’t hang out here, the woods are going up,” he shouted.

  “I want to see what they look like,” James said.

  “What?”

  “These things… I want to see their faces.”

  Rogers moved close and looked past them, posting himself at a standing watch. Unable to hold his own curiosity, he nodded the okay. “Hurry up then; get it done.”

  The bearded soldier probed and tugged at the corpse’s armor. Duke paced back and forth restlessly, the scent of the beings still close in the air. Looking for a zipper or a way into the uniform, James rolled the thing over. He slunk back and looked down at his hands, now covered in bright red blood. “Well, they certainly bleed like us,” he said.

  “Well, they ain’t us, so don’t go getting attached,” Rogers scorned, showing his impatience.

  James found a locking fastener at the back of the creature’s neck. With some struggle, he was able to break its grip. As he pulled down on the fastener, the fabric relaxed and loosened over the body. Soon it was so loose it draped off of the thing’s shoulder blades, revealing a dull gray flesh covered in thick scales. When James went to touch the skin, the creature tried to rise, its back suddenly convulsing. Dropping down with force, James pressed a knee between the thing’s shoulder blades and pinned it to the ground, listening to the alien wheeze its last breath.

  He let off the pressure and rolled it to its back. The suit’s grip released the helmet, allowing it to be easily lifted out of place from a locking collar and revealing a humanoid head. All the features of a human, its head was bald, the expressionless face showing evenly spaced eyes below perfect eyebrows, its lips thin and pressed tightly together.

  “What the fuck? He looks just like us,” Jacob gasped.

  James pressed a finger into a hole just below the thing’s collar bone. “Well, they weren’t prepared for projectile weapons. If I had to take a guess, this blue suit works great against their ray guns.”

  “Energy weapons,” Jacob added, reaching down to recover and examine the creature’s rifle. It was simple in design from his engineer’s vantage—a long cylinder that fit over the wearer’s forearm and a lever mechanism fired the bolt. A series of red and blue lights shone brightly at the base, probably displaying the charge or weapon’s strength. “It makes sense not to use projectiles—not having to replace a bullet—these things are probably rechargeable.”

  Looking down, Rogers shook his head. “So our body armor is useless against this blue shit. And their suits don’t work against our rifles.”

  “Perfect matchup,” James said sarcastically.

  A low moan near the burning block house alerted them. Before Jacob could turn, Duke bounded through the field toward its source. His bark was different, more of a high pitched whine. He whimpered and stopped at a form near the building’s porch, the dog’s tail wagging frantically as he circled the figure. The men rushed ahead, finding a crumpled man struggling to stand. When he turned to face them, Jacob saw the bloodied bandage on the man’s neck and the mournful face of Jesse Winslow.

  Chapter 12

  Wind blew through the trees, causing the upper branches to sway, the ends rattling as they touched. The light was fading, the sun’s last rays casting orange slivers through naked trees. She could hear the cries echoing through the forest; other survivors, lost and alone, the same as her. She debated reaching out, searching for them; strength in numbers she thought. They ran through the forest, scattered and afraid. She listened to the rifle fire and the screams all around her. Looking at her pack filled with meager supplies and thinking about the way the others had enviously looked at her rifle, she thought otherwise. She did not know them, or if they could be trusted.

  Laura lay hidden in the foliage of a dry creek bed, the vegetation too sparse to completely shelter her. A place where the ground dropped swiftly, the bank created an overhang that she was able to crawl into. A trail ran above her. If she held out, Jacob would return, and he would find them. Laura’s heart still thudded away anxiously in her chest. She pulled the collar of her shirt up over her mouth to cover the sounds of heavy breathing, and to conceal the cloud of condensation that marked her position. Katy’s face was buried in her hip; Laura could feel the warmth of her body pressed against her.

  A curtain of roots hung down above her head. She heard the rustling and breaking of branches on the ground above—someone, or something, was stalking the trail. Laura’s back was to the base of roughly packed dirt surface while tall grass and reeds surrounded the space directly to her front. She pushed the pack against the mound of earth so that it sheltered Katy from the wind channeling up the creek bed. As the noise above her grew louder, she cradled the rifle across her lap, allowing the end of the barrel to rest on her knees.

  “Mama,” Katy whispered.

  Laura dropped a hand to the girl’s head, cupping it, and brought her face down to meet her daughter’s. “We have to be quiet now, okay?”

  Trembling, Katy pursed her lips and pressed her face tighter to Laura’s hip, her breathing barely audible. There was a crunching in the dry leaves above, then a whooshing through the air. A creature with long legs crashed into the dry creek bed to her front. The alien form landed hard, yet controlled, with its legs bending to absorb the impact. It darted a step forward then stopped. Its body was humanoid, but it movements were mechanical, not exactly like a machine but more like a freakishly muscled man. The thick-trunked creature twisted at the waist, its bulk shifting to look back behind it, then back up at the elevated position it’d leapt from.

  Laura held the rifle, biting down on the inside of her cheek and trying to suppress the urge to shake, scream, or call out. Her right hand squeezed the pistol grip of the M4 carbine, her thumb searching for the selector switch. A series of low beeps and clicks came from the creature’s helmet. It turned its unarmed hand as if looking at a wrist watch then dipped its head, looking down and searching the depression where she hid. Its face mask focused on her, the thing’s gaze traveling from Laura to Katy then back, its head tilting sideways like a curious dog.

  She didn’t wait, her thumb dropped the selector a single click and she pulled the trigger. The rifle bucked against her legs. She saw the puffs against the creature’s chest, and the blue fabric tearing where rounds punched through its shirt. The thing dropped a step back. Laura imagined the look of surprise that must be on its face below the shielded helmet. Its right arm holding the weapon dropped and went slack; its left hand lay flat against its stomach then slowly slid up until it covered the already bleeding wounds. It staggered another half-step back before collapsing into the sand- and gravel-covered creek bed.

  Laura tried to conceal her fear. She looked down and could see Katy shaking beside her, and the young girl’s face contorted as she fought back tears. More footfalls landed heavily in the brush on the trail above her. She froze, looking down at the rifle still in her hands. She knew she couldn’t fight them all; hiding would be the only way. Maybe if she dropped the weapon they would spare her. These weren’t the same mindless monsters that came with the first meteor shower. The creature she just killed had hesitated as though it saw something that delayed it from killing her.

  She had to try; she shoved the rifle into the thick leaves beside her and drug brush over their laps, lying back, hoping to hide. The ground shook as more of the creatures dropped in from above, crashing to the creek bed around the fallen alien. Laura opened her eyes, unable to resist the urge to look. She saw four of them; three the same as the one she killed, tall and broad-shouldered, but the fourth was smaller, more slender. The fourth wore gold stripes on its sleeves and moved in a smooth manner. Where the large beast lumbered, this one seemed to dance with graceful motions.

  Laura couldn’t take her eyes from the slender creature. She watched as the group examined its dead then turned to face her. The smaller figure stepped forward and stretched out a closed hand in her direction. Its golden-gloved fist opened slowly, revealing a thumb and six fingers; in its
palm was a metallic disc. Laura watched as the disc blinked then flashed a blinding strobe. Instantly her body went numb. Paralyzed, she couldn’t move. She attempted to fight it and desperately tried to reach for Katy to shield her, but her muscles wouldn’t respond.

  Her eyes shot straight ahead, unable to blink, unable to change focus. The slender alien turned to face the others, the clicks and beeps filling the air. The large creatures moved forward on stiff joints, lumbering toward her. One reached down, holding a golden bowl that he placed on the top of her head. Laura’s muscles tensed at the same time her body flung into a spread eagle position. She felt distant, her mind a passenger in her body.

  The clicks were gone, and then she heard a soft voice—not in her ears, but directly transmitted into her thoughts. “Keep the female with its cub. Deliver them to element six.”

  She struggled to turn to search for Katy. The slender creature approached her and knelt over her form. “There is no need to resist; you and your cub are safe now.” The slender one put its hand to Laura’s head and the world went dark.

  Chapter 13

  Crunched against debris at the side of the blockhouse, his shoulder and side speckled with burns, Jesse tried to push up to stand next to them. Gritting through the pain, he looked up at Jacob. “They’re alive. She wasn’t on the helicopter. She left with the others,” he said.

  “Which way did they go?”

  Jesse clenched his eyes closed tight; Jacob could see that the man was fighting the pain. He opened them again and strained the muscles in his neck, attempting to get up. James removed a canteen from a carrier on his belt and opened it, allowing the wounded man to drink. Jesse gulped thirstily and paused. “We followed the trail, up toward the small cabins. I sent her north.”

  “Alone?” Jacob gasped.

  Jesse dipped his chin and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jacob. We tried to fight them back, but they outflanked us. They were on all sides. They got behind us; we pushed back this way but… those things went after them. They fought through us and went after the civilians.”