by Dave Lacey
Occupation
(The Ausländer Series)
By Dave Lacey
Copyright © 2012 By Dave Lacey
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Printing, 2013
Lazey Ink Publishing
Please see my Website at www.LazeyinK.com for more information on Books, News and Additional content.
For everybody who took the time to read the first book. Thanks for your time, I hope you enjoy this one as much.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 1
The Comber was close to where Jes crouched. He could hear its breathing. Its stealthy movements. He guessed they were looking for more bodies to snatch. His crew, Alpha Company, were spread out around him. Timing is everything. He could hear the Combers, just yards away. Intent on their mission. Find humans. For food. Or other things. But bodies, warm or otherwise, were harder to find these days. The food supply had dried up.
Jes cast an eye around the scene, the Moon providing the only light. By its soft glow, he could see vehicles scattered haphazardly, some burned out, others rotted from exposure to the elements. The detritus from buildings and general waste, wooden beams, tumbled brick work and litter dotted the landscape, as though a giant toddler had thrown a tantrum. Somewhere, loose corrugated steel flapped in the wind. A lonely, forlorn sound.
For a long time after the arrival, fires had lit even the darkest night skies like daylight. Not anymore. It was dark. The dark made it easier for Jes and his crew to move around. And it was cold. Jes shifted his position a little, trying to see over the top of the container he crouched behind. One of his gang gripped his arm and flashed her eyes at him – a warning not to give away their position.
He glared at her. Trying to convey a message with his eyes – ‘I’m not some novice, I have done this before’ – but failing. Instead, he grimaced, looked down at the hand on his sleeve, then raised his eyes to her face. Leila removed her hand. To cover her embarrassment, she sat down against the container and looked along the row of people to her left. The members of Alpha Company. Jes returned his gaze to the Combers, and edged up so he could see them again.
The Combers were scavengers, combing the land for supplies and food. Not as aggressive as the Destroyers, but they could still kill with their bare hands. Well, not so much hands as claws. And teeth. Three rows of razor sharp teeth on both the upper and lower jaws. As he thought about them, Jes felt the familiar twinge in his shoulder. He had felt those teeth before, and he had the scars to show for it.
The Combers’ long arms, ending in vicious, clawed hands, flipped over bins and anything else that might provide cover for sheltering people. Their eyes, black and soulless, roved over the ground. Searching. Always searching. Their superior height afforded them a great vantage point, and anybody caught in the open was quickly dispatched and tossed into a suitable container ready for extraction on a ‘Lander ship.
This time, there were three of them, and they were paying particular attention to a former row of shops. Some buildings had survived the invasion. People still used them as cover. Their long legs moved back and forth in an awkward spidery fashion, almost as though they were merely falling from one leg to the other. Until they started to run. Then they looked graceful, and terrifying. Jes could hear them communicating, a series of clicks and rasps.
Jes had brought his crew here for supplies themselves, though he fancied they would have little more luck than the Combers. The sorties had a success ratio of around twenty-five per cent when on the surface. Sometimes they had a good haul, a good cross section of goods. Any food was good, but on occasion they would also find medical, defence or entertainment equipment.
Right now, Jes considered what to do about their enemy. Should he and his crew wait until the Combers left the area, or should they attack and clear the area themselves? Attacks always brought problems, whether that meant bringing enemy soldiers to their location, or taking casualties or even fatalities of their own. In the end, Jes’s decision was made for him. Alpha Company had brought a rookie with them.
As Jes watched the Combers enter another shop front, the rookie, Wilkinson, sneezed. It wasn’t terribly loud, but loud enough. Two of the Combers’ heads turned towards their position behind the container. The creatures bobbed slightly on their long longs, flexing their clawed hands. There came more clicking and rasping. Their heads tilted back, as they reached into the air with their crenulated noses, and they started to move forward. Jes turned and looked down the line at the rookie, grimacing at him.
Recriminations could wait. Jes took a deep breath and checked the load on his assault rifle as quietly as he could. Then he turned to nod at Leila. He whirled to his feet and away from the container. The Combers moved so quickly. Something the survivors had taken a long time to adjust to. So many people had been lost, still marvelling at the speed with which they moved.
By now, though, Jes had grown accustomed to it. He’d been a policeman before the invasion, so most of it came naturally. He brought the rifle up to his shoulder in one quick practised movement, at the same time drawing a bead on the one to the right. He’d fired before he’d even finished lining it up. A short double tap. He knew both bullets had hit their mark as he swung onto the next one. This one proved more difficult to hit, as it moved off at an angle to its original course.
His first two shots took it high in the chest or shoulder. Not going to be good enough, that. And then – he’d forgotten it was even there – the third Comber broke cover and charged. Trust was a big thing for the survivors, especially among the soldiers. You absolutely had to trust each other, or you were as good as dead. So Jes ignored the third one as it covered the ground in a blur. A good decision, as the one he’d hit high came like an enraged bull from his left, pretty much where he’d expected it to come from.
Its face contorted as it came for him, intent on maiming. But this time his aim proved truer, and another double tap took it straight between its black eyes. Its legs crumpled beneath it and it rolled to a stop just ten feet from him. As he had made his mark, Jes had heard two shots from over his right shoulder, and he guessed Leila had just taken out the third Comber. He turned to see the third dead on the floor ten yards away.
“Check them for anything useful,” he said. “You know the drill.” The crew split up and went about their business, with Jes watching for any surprises. Leila had sent the newbie and another of the company to check on the one she had taken out. She and another of the guys made for the nearer of the two Jes had shot. Two more went to check out the first one, while the rest fanned ou
t in a defensive pattern.
Leila and her fellow soldier turned over one of the large bodies, checking for weapons or anything useful they had picked up along the way. The two muttered between themselves as they completed their search. Jes allowed his attention to switch to the other two pairs. As his gaze fell on the furthest from him, a scream and a howl came from his right. The Comber Leila had shot wasn’t dead. It had waited until the two humans got closer, then attacked. It had hold of the newbie by the leg, its claws closing with a wet crunch around his thigh.
The boy continued to scream, as his partner brought up his weapon. But he didn’t have the angle. He couldn’t hit one without maybe hitting the other. Jes knew time was short. At that moment, the only thing stopping the boy’s deadly attacker was the hit it had taken from Leila. If it brought its other clawed hand to bear, it would finish the job quickly and effectively. Jes swung his rifle round, breathing deeply, steadying his aim. The boy screamed afresh, and this time Jes saw the blood welling from the deep wounds. The Comber dragged itself into a better position, its mouth hanging open, razor teeth on display.
As the boy’s head thrashed in pain and fear, the light that he wore on his head cast dramatic shadows and brief glimpses of the beast in varying patterns. As the creature brought its other arm up to finish off the boy, the shift of its weight created an opportunity for Jes. His moment, brief and narrow, came and almost went. There comes a moment when instinct takes over, and this was it. He never hesitated. If you were wrong, you were wrong, and you had to live with it.
With a light pressure, he pulled the trigger. The thing stopped in mid motion. The bullet entered where its ears would have been if it had had them, and passed straight through the other side. As its brain died, its muscles tensed in reflex. And so, for a few seconds, the pressure on the newbie’s leg increased, to the point where he passed out. He fell back, and his partner caught him before he smacked his head on the ground.
“Fuck, sorry Jes.” Leila spoke from his left.
“No sorries, Leila.” He turned to look at her. “Just don’t fuck up next time.” He didn’t wait for the response, but dropped his arms and rifle to his side and made for the kid. As he got there, he could see the sheen of cold sweat on the boy’s upper lip and forehead. He may have been unconscious, but he still felt a lot of pain.
“You got a med pack?” Jes asked the rookie’s partner. They only carried one pack between four, and they were in short supply.
“Nope, sorry.”
“Who has a med pack?” Jes shouted. “Quickly, people, the kid’s in a lot of pain.” He took out a rag from his pack and wiped the sweat from the newbie’s brow. Then he took a look at the wound. He ripped the camo trousers where the claws had cut through them. There were three deep gashes in the lower quadricep: two on the inside above the knee and one on the outside where the thumb claw had been.
“Shit, I can’t tell if the femoral’s been cut,” Jes said.
Another member of the company shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “There’d be a lot more blood. Either way, we need to get it sorted soon as. Otherwise our little friend here won’t be making any more sorties.”
As Jes sat staring at the leg, Leila came running with a med pack. Between the two of them, they stemmed the bleeding, and managed to get a proper dressing on the wound. As they were finishing up, Wilkinson came around.
“Shit. Arghhh, shit, am I dying?” he asked, a grimace forcing him to speak through his teeth. His face was pale with shock and pain. Jes looked at him, impressed by the boy’s frank question.
“No kid, you’re not dying. You won’t be chasing girls for a little while, but you’re not dying.” He took a breath, then creaked to his feet. “But we do need to get you back to HQ quick. I’m not a doctor, and I don’t know how bad it might be.” He took the plastic cigarette from his top pocket and shoved it into his mouth.
“Thank fuck for that,” the kid said, again through gritted teeth. Jes gave a tired smile. As he stood inhaling nothing but air through the plastic stop-smoking device, the others came over to deliver their intel.
They talked through their desultory haul, before preparing for the return journey. Within ten minutes of the last shot being fired, they were on the move. Along their route, other members of the community, who had been posted behind the main crew to scan the area for enemy activity, joined them.
Alpha Company moved in a loping jog trot, even though they carried their injured comrade. They covered the ground in a little over twenty minutes. The wind was getting up. Loose felt, old litter and pieces of cloth were borne into the air around them. A hundred yards from the entrance to HQ, they heard the greeting call from the four guards posted around the gate.
“Halt, who goes?”
“Alpha Company, Jes here,” Jes called, loud enough to be heard, quiet enough for the sound to be lost on the air. The four guards melted from their hiding places, shouldering arms as they came.
“Anything of use, sir?” Carl Jeffers asked Jes.
“No, but we did blood our virgin.” Jes gestured behind at the pasty figure lying on the stretcher. Jeffers looked past him and winced. The wind teased at the blanket draped over the wounded youngster. The Moon made an occasional silvery appearance.
“He gonna be okay?”
“I think so, yeah. We need to get him inside quick though.” Jes looked meaningfully past Jeffers, whose eyebrows shot up as he rocked back on his heels.
“Yeah, of course, sorry sir.” They made their way forward, through the mess of rubble and twisted metal, where, almost impossible to detect, stood the entrance to their hideaway.
Chapter 2
As they waited in the cold evening air, the crew, which now numbered fourteen not counting the gate guards, could hear the ear twisting screech and rumble of iron on iron, as the great bolts and latches were lifted and pulled and the doorway finally swung out. It took two men to push it open with the wooden pole that was kept there for the sole purpose. The final third of its arc pushed it beyond the perpendicular, and so it fell open with a soft clang.
The casualty was whisked through, into the tunnel that led to HQ. Jes waited outside for a few moments, letting the sweat cool on his skin.
“We’ll have to close up soon, sir.” Jes turned. Carl Jeffers stood just outside the door, drawing on a cigarette. Jes’s nose twitched in response to the sweet smell.
“I know. And please don’t call me sir, it’s not necessary. Makes me feel like a dick.” He paused, reaching out to cadge a drag of Jeffers’ cigarette. “Is Bravo back yet?” He looked up through the smoke, squinting his eyes at Jeffers, trying hard to suppress the sudden tension.
“Not yet si... I mean, not yet, Jes. Charlie is, but not Bravo.” Jeffers took back his cigarette, nodded his thanks, and moved away to give Jes some room. He watched the guards for a few minutes, hearing the talk of young men doing a tough job in an unforgiving new world. Finally, he got to his feet and, with a hand on the flat metal of the door, turned to bid them goodnight as he walked through the tunnel entrance into the gloom.
He walked the familiar route, back to the central Hub. The tunnel bore down on a gentle angle, its smooth surface yet lumpy texture familiar to the touch. Many thought of the Hub as an old fashioned town square, and maybe that was true. But it was underground, as was the rest of their accommodation, and that made quite a difference. He couldn’t deny thoughthat, at times, the Hub was a good place to be. A place of community and oneness. As he arrived, there was a buzz in the air. The kid had been whisked off to the medical suite, if you could call it that, and the evening was in full flow.
Food was being served up and maybe some alcohol too. Remarkable really, thought Jes, no matter how tough things get for people, they always manage to make or find alcohol. Thank the Lord.
“Hey, Jes. Good night?” Jes looked up to see Adam Gillette, one of the central figures in the community. Around six thousand people were living in the tunnels and caverns under
the area of Liverpool they inhabited, and Adam was one of Jes’s least favourites.
“Not really, Adam, no. We took a hit early, had to head back in. Sorry.” He shrugged. He’d offered the apology, but it was a courtesy and nothing more. There was little you could do when these things happened. Adam’s face became a mask of concern, and his hand moved up, rubbing his chin. Jes thought it was an affected look, something Gillette maybe practised in his room.
“That’s terrible. I’m very sorry. Who was it?” he asked.
Jes took a deep breath before sighing out the kid’s name. He couldn’t wait to get away from the politician. Gillette’s features darkened further, a frown creased his brow, and he nodded, wise and understanding. For all his mock concern, Jes knew he couldn’t have cared less.
“That is truly terrible. Do his parents know?” Adam asked.
“I really don’t know what to tell you, Adam. I just walked in.” Jes held out his hands in an ‘I don’t know’ gesture, and wondered how long it would take to get away from this dick. “Maybe I’ll go see them now,” Jes said, and he slapped his hands against his hips, making as if to leave.
“No need, I’ll take care of that. You get some rest.” Gillette reached out a hand and patted Jes on the shoulder. Jes breathed in through his nose and let his features relax, even though his fists were clenching by his sides. As he watched Gillette walk away, he heard a shout from further up the tunnel mouth, towards the entrance.
“Bravo Squad’s back!” Jes’s eyes widened and he felt his pulse quicken. He moved quickly over to the entrance to the Hub, and waited at the mouth. Further up, he could hear a commotion, a man’s raised voice issuing a less than subtle bollocking to somebody else. Gradually, the words became distinguishable.
“... well, the next time I ask you to stay at the rear, I’d be obliged if you just fucking did it, without feeling the need to question every single fucking order I give!” The voice rose in inflection at the end, emphasizing its angry tone.
