The Reckoning (Earth Haven Book 3)

by Sam Kates

  What followed was days of frenzied scampering from building to building, battling the packs of wild dogs and carpets of rats that harried their every step. If they remained in one place for too long, concentrated strafing from heavier weaponry forced them into moving or be buried beneath tumbling masonry.

  Any attempt to retrace footsteps was met with impenetrable, concentrated gunfire. If they tried to break out to either side, take alleyways or roads that were not the obvious ones to choose, they came under what they had come to think of as ‘psychic attacks’: the eyes of one or more of their number would glaze over and they would begin taking pot-shots at comrades or turning their guns on themselves. When a man started yanking pins from grenades, killing seven and wounding five more, they stopped trying to deviate from the route laid out for them. Gradually and surely, they were funnelled precisely where the enemy wanted them to go.

  The fight was with a faceless foe, one that knew the layout of the battleground and dictated where the conflict took place. Since Aletta had fired at the group of people who had been ‘controlling’ Amy, she had only twice more caught glimpses of similar groups that had vanished before she could level her weapon.

  Hunger and tiredness had become major problems. The banquet of a few nights ago seemed a distant memory. All remnants of food had been removed from the buildings past which they hurried. The harassment continued after dark, never relenting, never allowing them to snatch more than minutes at a time of restless sleep.

  Until now.

  Aletta’s eyes flickered open. Light entered through the high windows of the building. Morning had found them still alive. Nearby, others stirred from slumber. The floor was cold and hard, but everyone had slept for hours. All who survived: fewer than three hundred.

  They were at the end of the line. Terminus. Manipulated to end up here, in what would likely become a killing ground, their tomb. She looked around. An empty industrial building with bare, concrete floors, brick walls and corrugated steel roof. A warehouse.

  The air smelled dank. A river or canal was near. At least the floor was dry.

  It must have been past midnight when they had stumbled, beyond weary, into this building. An army of rats and dogs had followed them all day, snapping at their heels and at each other, maintaining a steady pace but not attempting to overtake them. People—their people, the ones with blank stares and drooling lips—kept pace with them in the streets that ran parallel to the one they were hurrying down. When darkness fell, the others carried torches, the old-fashioned sort with flames and black smoke, to make them and their weight of numbers visible, dispelling any notions that there might be escape in those directions.

  At first, some had taken shots at the slack-jaws, but others stepped up to take the places of those who fell and fire was returned, forcing them to seek cover and bringing the pursuing vermin and dogs nearer.

  On and on they had trudged, tiredness and hunger making every step an effort. Past houses and shops, offices and factories. They stopped wasting valuable energy breaking into buildings looking for food. It had all been stripped away. Some attempted escape—or maybe they were simply exhausted and looking for somewhere to sleep—sneaking into houses when they thought the eyes of the enemy could not be upon them. Shots would ring out minutes later.

  When they were forced down the final alleyway, a dead end with a high brick wall barring their way, the only place they could go was into this warehouse. Once inside, the door barred with a sturdy length of wood that looked as though it had been left there for that purpose, they had been left alone. The cruellest irony, maybe, to allow them a last night of sleep so they would be more alert for their final day. She felt sure that this is what she had opened her eyes to: her final day.

  Aletta glanced at her companions. Elliott, pale and haggard, twitched in his sleep like a dog, looking every inch a man in the twilight of life. Amy issued tiny moans, as though reliving the past week in her dreams, and turned frequently like a roasting pig. Only Zach gave the appearance of sleeping soundly, curled onto his side, using his arms as a pillow. Except his eyes were open, watching her.

  She felt herself blush and hurriedly cast her gaze elsewhere. When she dared glance back, he was still watching her.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning. Um, what do you think will happen today?” She didn’t really want to know, but felt she needed to ask him something.

  “I expect they’ll finish it. We have nowhere to go. Just about out of ammo.” He sat up and shrugged.

  “We can take some of the fuckers with us,” said a voice. It was the young man, the ‘leader’, who had lain down near them. Joe.

  Zach looked at him.

  “Nope. They won’t need to show themselves. Just one door out of here. They can take us out as we leave.” He nodded at the high windows. “Or break the glass and lob grenades in. It’s a turkey shoot and we’re the turkeys.”

  “It has all been for nothing,” said Aletta.

  “Maybe not nothing,” said a new voice. Elliott sat up, wincing. “Oh, these old bones aren’t suited to lying on cold concrete.”

  Amy, too, opened her eyes.

  “What did you mean by ‘not nothing’?” asked Joe.

  “Human history is littered with instances of defiance in the face of overwhelming odds.” Elliott snorted. “We can be ornery critters when we put our minds to it. Maybe our refusal to roll over and die will stand as a fitting tribute to all who have gone before.”

  “Nobody will know,” said Amy. She looked close to tears; her bottom lip was tucked between her teeth. To prevent it quivering, Aletta guessed.

  “That’s possible,” said Elliott. “It may come to pass that there will be no one left to know or care what happens to us. But I’m an optimistic old fool. I believe that mankind will endure in some form or another. And I’m going to leave them this.” He reached inside his jacket and extracted his notebook. He placed it on the floor beside him. “My account of what we’ve done, up until a few days ago. Maybe someone will come through here and find it.”

  “This is it,” said Aletta. “This is the last day of my life. Of all our lives.”

  They looked at each other. Nobody contradicted her.

  * * * * * * *

  Milandra called them together: her Deputies, Rodney Wilson, Peter Ronstadt and Diane Heidler, and the four humans. Plus one dog, which kept very close to Tom. They met in the conservatory with the morning sun pouring through the glass. It promised to be another fine day. Milandra had thrown the doors wide to allow fresh air in and heat out.

  “Well, friends,” she said when everyone was seated, “today is May fourth. Today is the day that we have awaited for nearly five millennia. Today is the day of the Great Coming.”

  Nearly everyone present glanced to the windows, eyes raised.

  Milandra laughed. “There is nothing to see yet, although I sense they will be entering Earth Haven’s atmosphere at any moment. Then there will be a spectacle.”

  “Will we see a spaceship?” asked Will.

  Milandra nodded and the boy’s face lit up with wonder.

  Simone Furlong rose to her feet.

  Here it comes thought Milandra.

  “A momentous day calls for momentous decisions,” said Simone, no trace of the little girl in her voice.

  “Now, Simone?” said Milandra. “In front of everyone?”

  “This affects everyone.” She glanced at the four humans. “Except the drones.”

  “Let it go, Simone,” said George Wallace.

  The Chosen sneered at him. “Shut up, drone lover. We all know it’s time she stood aside.”

  “No!” exclaimed Jason Grant.

  “It’s okay, Jason,” said Milandra. “I’ve been expecting something like this. Before we go on...” She looked at Tom and Ceri. “Take Bri and Will outside, if you don’t mind. Simone’s correct about one thing: this doesn’t concern you.” And I need Bri out of harm’s way. She didn’t know how far the
Chosen was prepared to go, but she didn’t want to be worrying about the girl while she dealt with it.

  She waited until the humans had filed out, the dog trotting along beside them.

  “Okay, Simone, so what exactly is it you want from me?”

  “You know. Stand aside. Make me Keeper.” Get out of my way, old woman Simone sent.

  “You think you’re ready to accept the responsibility?”

  “Yes. I’m ready.”

  “No. You’re not.” I doubt that you’ll ever be Milandra sent.

  Simone smiled. “I thought you might be resistant to change.” She turned and bent over the chair in which she’d been sitting. When she straightened, she was holding a pistol. “So I placed this down the side of the chair earlier.” She pointed it at Milandra.

  Grant bounded to his feet and stepped in front of the Keeper. “Put that gun down, Simone,” he said in a low voice.

  “Get out of the way, Jason,” said Simone. “She’s old and tired. Killing her will be a kindness.”

  Milandra chuckled. “You’re right about me being old and tired. You’re just wrong about everything else.”

  “I’m going to be Keeper,” insisted Simone. “And now, before the Great Coming.”

  “Not like this, Simone,” said Lavinia. She took a step towards her.

  The Chosen swung the pistol round to point it at Lavinia.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” said Lavinia. “What you gonna do—shoot us all?”

  “If I have to.”

  A howl rent the air; it came from outside.

  “That’s Dusty,” said Grant.

  “Indeed it is,” said Milandra. “He can sense them as well.” She glanced at the Chosen. “It’s too late, Simone.” She heaved herself to her feet. “They’re here.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Throughout the northern hemisphere people stopped what they were doing and looked up.

  In a patch of sky that until moments before had been clear, a curiously spiralling bank of clouds gathered, like candy floss forming on a stick.

  Beyond the clouds a dark spot appeared as though a hole had been torn in the atmosphere to let the absolute blackness of space show through, but only those with the keenest gaze noticed it. The clouds, forming as rapidly as they were, would soon obscure it.

  Although nobody knew what they were looking at, nearly everyone experienced the same sensation: an inexplicable feeling of deep, primeval dread.

  * * * * * * *

  On stepping outside the hotel, Will and Bri made off towards the observation point overlooking the ocean, while Tom and Ceri sat on a bench outside the conservatory.

  “Wonder what all that was about,” said Tom. “Can’t say I’m not glad to get out of there. You could cut the atmosphere with a knife. I get the feeling that Simone would shoot us as soon– What’s wrong?”

  Ceri’s head was turned to the sky. All the colour had drained from her face. Tom followed her gaze.

  “Oh,” was all he could manage.

  He tore his attention away from the spiralling cloud formation. Ceri looked at him with an expression of utter wretchedness.

  “It’s happening, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. His mouth had gone completely dry.

  Dusty, sitting at Tom’s feet, stood and gave a wuff? Nose twitching, his tail came out stiffly like a lurcher’s. He raised his snout and let out a howl. Tom hadn’t heard him make such a wolf-like noise since the day they found Ceri and were almost brainwashed by the Commune.

  Heart racing, he leaned forward and stretched his arms around the dog, trying to quieten him. Dusty uttered a pitiful-sounding whine, then lowered himself to his haunches and did not utter another sound, though he trembled like a leaf in a breeze.

  Both Tom and Ceri turned their heads towards the patter of hurrying feet. Will appeared around the corner of the hotel.

  “Come quickly,” he said breathlessly. “The submarine’s back.”

  Tom exchanged a glance with Ceri before they both hurried after the boy.

  Beyond the rocks that protruded from the sea on this part of the coast like frostbitten fingertips—responsible for the doom of many a ship on stormy nights in centuries past—riding the swell with an easy grace floated a craft they had seen before: HM Submarine Argute. Men stood on the exposed decks, many of them gazing skyward.

  Excitement lanced through Tom as if he’d been intravenously injected; not merely excitement—hope, too.

  A bright yellow dinghy was being carried over the rocks at the water’s edge by three men. A fourth person, a woman, was looking up at them, waving.

  “Isn’t that...?” began Tom. He wanted to rub his eyes; they were seeing things that he was struggling to take in.

  “Yes,” called Bri, who was standing at the top of the wooden steps leading down to the narrow strand of shingle. “It’s Colleen.”

  “Be careful,” called Ceri, but Bri had already started down the steps.

  Tom turned at sounds behind him. The eight non-humans had emerged from the hotel. Most of them stood looking at the sky, but Peter and Diane were hurrying over to him. He peered past them.

  “Why is Simone holding a gun?”

  “To shoot Milandra,” replied Diane. Tom’s confusion must have shown on his face because she added, “Best not to ask.”

  Tom returned his attention to the beach. He didn’t like putting his back to Simone when she was carrying a pistol, but he needed to make sense of what was happening below him.

  “Two of those men have rifles,” said Peter. “We need to move the children away in case there’s shooting.” He glanced around. “Where’s Bri?”

  “Down there,” said Tom.

  He glanced around, looking for Will. Ceri had stepped to the boy’s side and held her arm protectively around his good shoulder.

  The dinghy had been pulled beyond the water’s edge and the three men were making their way to the cliff. Colleen had disappeared from view. Seconds later, she and Bri came into sight at the top of the steps.

  “Cer?” said Tom. “Dusty too?”

  Ceri nodded.

  Bri and Colleen approached them, an uncertain smile on Colleen’s face. Ceri reached out her free hand and briefly squeezed Colleen’s arm.

  “Glad to see you’re safe,” Ceri said, “and I’ll give you a proper hug later, but for now I need to get Will and Bri out of the way.” Bri opened her mouth to say something, but Ceri silenced her with a curt shake of her head. “No arguments. There might be shooting.”

  Bri glanced around fearfully and, judging from how the colour drained from her cheeks, noticed the gun in Simone’s hands. She stepped to Ceri’s side without another word. Ceri said something to Will, who called to Dusty.

  “Go on, boy,” said Tom and the dog trotted over to Will. Dusty had stopped looking at the sky as though he knew there was nothing he could do about what was happening up there; he didn’t like it, didn’t understand it, but accepted it.

  Ceri led Bri, Will and Dusty to the side of the main hotel building and out of sight behind the thick stone walls. Her face reappeared, peering around the wall so she could watch what transpired.

  Colleen stepped up to Tom and gave him a hug. She smiled at Peter and Diane, before her smile faltered.

  “Who are they?” She nodded towards Milandra’s party.

  “The head honcho and her crew,” said Tom. “But how did you get on the sub?”

  “They picked me up in Kent and I brought them here. I just came ashore with someone who knows you.”

  “Irving?”

  “Yes.”

  Tom’s attention was distracted by two things. Milandra and the others had approached the cliff edge and were gazing at the submarine. Three men appeared at the top of the steps, two of them clutching rifles and looking ready to use them if necessary.

  The third man, tall with a Desperate Dan jaw, nodded at Tom and stepped forward.

  “Mr Evans, I seem to recall?”


  “Irving? I didn’t recognise you without your bio suit. Not afraid of catching the virus now?”

  “We know it’s no longer active.” His tone and expression betrayed no emotion. “What is the situation here?”

  “Um. Where to begin.” Tom nodded towards Milandra’s group, who had begun to take an interest in the new arrivals. “They are the ones who started the Millennium Bug. You probably still don’t believe it, but they are not from this planet. There are another five thousand of them in London. A large contingent of people—normal people, like us—has gone to London to attack them. The plump lady is their leader. Her name’s Milandra. I think she may not be all bad.” He turned to Peter and Diane. “These are our friends. Ha! Never thought I’d say that about you, Diane. Also not of this planet, but they have helped us.” He looked up to the sky. The clouds had multiplied, thick and grey with orange-tinted edges. “And up there, somewhere behind that weird cloud, seventy thousand more of their lot are arriving. When they do, it is highly probable that they shall finish what the Millennium Bug started.”

  Before Irving could respond, the ratcheting of two rifles being readied to fire sounded and he whirled around. His men had raised their weapons to their shoulders and pointed them at Simone. She was regarding them with an expression of amused contempt.

  “Drop the pistol!” one of the men barked. “Now!”

  “Uh, bad idea,” muttered Tom.

  Each member of Simone’s small group was staring at the men, Milandra’s gaze particularly intense. Simone tittered and stepped to one side. The men continued to point their rifles at the empty space where she had been standing.

  “What’s going on?” demanded Irving. He took a step towards Milandra.

  Simone raised the pistol and pointed it at him.

  “No you don’t,” she said.

  In fairness to Irving, thought Tom, he had some bottle. He returned Simone’s gaze, straightening his shoulders and bringing himself up to his full six foot plus height.

  “Excuse me, madam,” he said, “but you sound American. Perhaps you didn’t know that we don’t carry guns in the U.K.?”