The thought gave him pause. Nothing was safe, not anymore.
Five quick paces across the yard and he was at the door, resting his back against the house’s aged siding. His first impulse was to break the glass, but instead he tried the handle. It clicked, unlocked.
He grinned with relief at the small victory as he slipped through the opening, but his smile was short-lived. Inside he was greeted by a dark room. Only a few rays of sunlight bled through the curtains to guide him. Standing there in the shadows, he suddenly felt overwhelmed by fear. Slowly, he reached down and drew his combat knife out of its sheath.
The knife shook in his gloved hand. Holding the weapon did not feel natural. He was a teacher, not a soldier, and he had never been a fan of weapons. But this was a different world—a world where he had no choice but to protect himself.
Crossing the room cautiously, he tiptoed toward the kitchen, the knife held out before him. He froze again when he saw the undisturbed room. Three plates were arranged neatly on the table for a family that would never eat together again. The room was an eerie relic from another time, when food, water, and shelter were taken for granted; a time when people’s biggest concern was whether they would be able to make their credit card payment. The world had changed overnight. Bills no longer mattered. Monsters were real. And water was the most important commodity of all.
Shaking the scene from his thoughts, he made his way to the fridge, opening the door to reveal a bottle of rotten milk and a few cans of beer. A week earlier, he would have jumped at the sight of a beer, but now the cans did nothing but make him crave water even more. He closed the door slowly and turned to the cabinets. The first two held nothing but spices and a few boxes of rigatoni. The next two were full of dusty glasses and plates. With a sigh, he closed them and moved on to the fifth. He licked his chapped lips out of habit, noticing that the blood had dried up.
He swung the door open, desperate to find something to quench his thirst or satisfy his hunger. Inside were a can of beans, a can of soup, and a couple boxes of cereal.
Someone must have looted the house before him. Something inside him brightened at the idea. Maybe that person was still out there. Maybe he wasn’t alone after all. He opened up his backpack and dropped the beans and soup inside to eat later, and walked back through the hallway.
He passed a door that was open a crack. Sliding his fingers into the gap, he slowly opened it farther, revealing a dark utility closet. His heart raced when he saw the outline of a water heater. He recalled the documentary about civilians who survived the solar storms of 2055. A man whose name escaped him had lived for three months off the water inside his water heater.
He clicked on his flashlight and swept the beam over the dark space. Crouching, he took one step inside the room. His heart sank when he felt his boot slide through a gooey substance.
He closed his eyes, sucked in a measured breath, and then angled the light at the floor. He knew what the substance was, but wanted to see it with his own eyes. When they snapped open, he saw the remains of an orb.
“My God,” he said, pulling his boot out of the sticky material. He was alone after all. There was nothing left of whoever had taken refuge in the closet, nor was there any water left in the small heater, which had a claw mark across the length of the metal.
Alex didn’t bother closing the door. The orb was relatively fresh, not the dried-out type he had come across before. He knew the aliens were probably still nearby. Moving slowly across the carpeted floor, he decided to head upstairs. He wanted a view of the block, to see if he was right—to see if they were still there. Gripping the combat knife tightly, he ducked around the next corner and stopped at the bottom of a large wooden staircase that led to the second floor.
The stairs creaked under the weight of his boots, and he cursed under his breath. He winced with each step, every fiber in the wood creaking as he moved.
To his relief, carpet covered the hallway at the top of the stairs. His boots sank silently into the material, and for a second he felt a brief reprieve from the fear. The first door to his right led to a bedroom. In the corner he could see a window looking over the street below. To his left was a small bathroom.
He checked the sink first. It was bone dry. Then his eyes fell on the toilet. Never in his life had he thought the sight of a toilet would fill him with such hope. His eyes lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning when he lifted the lid and saw a few ounces of cloudy water in the bowl.
Swinging his backpack onto the floor, he crouched and retrieved the straw he had lifted from a fast-food restaurant. The utensil had already come in handy on several occasions. He closed his eyes as he bent to his knees and started sucking the water down his dry throat, trying not to think about the germs. The odd sound echoed through the quiet house, but he no longer cared. All that mattered was water.
When the bowl was dry, he stood to check the tank. It was half full, but the water was a reddish-brown, more than likely a result of rust from the chain.
Was it safe? Did it even matter?
He hesitated, staring at the murky liquid. It could be his last chance to find drinkable water for days. Especially if the Organics were nearby. He couldn’t risk entering another house; he had already gotten lucky once.
As he filled his canteen with the reddish-brown water from the tank, an alarming shriek broke through the silence. He fumbled with the bottle, nearly spilling the liquid on the floor. The sound faded away as quickly as it had emerged.
He froze. Several silent seconds passed. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Had the sound just been a fluke? Some pipe creaking in the bowels of the house?
Another screech tore through the stillness.
That was the sound they made. The aliens were close.
The hair on Alex’s neck stood up. Another shriek followed. Shocked into motion, he scooped up the last of the water from the tank and rushed back into the hallway. He scanned the passage. Should he risk going downstairs, or should he find a place to hide?
He remembered the creaky stairs and decided against trying to escape. Instead, he slipped into the first bedroom. He looked over the room quickly, and saw it was furnished with a twin bed, a nightstand, and a dresser. In the corner of the room, next to the window, there was a tall closest, the perfect hiding place.
Without hesitation he crossed the room and slipped inside, shutting the bifold doors silently behind him. Setting his helmet and pack on the floor, he turned to peek through the crack. The angle gave him the perfect view of a window covered by a thin white curtain.
Beyond the dirty glass he could see movement in the street below. When his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, he saw them.
There were hundreds of the aliens. The entire ground looked alive, teeming with the creatures. He watched in shock as a pack of Spiders feasted on the remains of the cul-de-sac’s residents. The monsters fought over the scraps, shrieking and clawing at one another. His eyes followed the trail of gore to a massive wormlike creature that lay curled up next to a car.
It wasn’t the first time he had seen one of them. And, if he survived, it probably would not be the last. He had come across a parking lot the day before filled with the floating blue orbs. He had watched a pair of Worms slither across the blacktop, consuming the spheres and their human prisoners, sucking them almost dry of water before spitting out the remains for the Spiders to feed on.
His heart jumped in his chest as he suddenly felt the sensation of being watched. With trepidation he glanced down to see one of the Spiders staring at him with large, glassy eyes.
Before Alex could slip into the closet’s shadows, the creature tilted its head like a curious dog. With bated breath he waited, his heart pumping rapidly inside his chest.
Had it seen him? Could it sense him?
Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.
Alex knew what that sound meant.
He realized that their behavior wasn’t that different from his own. The Organics were hungry, and to them, Alex was nothing more than a meal on legs.
CHAPTER 1
DR. Sophie Winston replayed the message on her tablet again. It was the fourth time in as many minutes, but she needed to hear it once more just to be sure it was real.
“This is Alex Wagner with the Biosphere facility at Edwards Air Force Base in California, requesting assistance. Over.”
Their mission had been a lie from the beginning. A damned rotten lie straight from the mouth of Dr. Hoffman, the CEO of New Tech Corporation—the man she had thought would lead humanity to a sanctuary on Mars. But there was at least hope: Someone else had survived the invasion, someone who needed help. And if there was one, Sophie knew there would be others.
Dr. Emanuel Rodriguez crossed the mess hall and plopped down on the metal stool across from Sophie. He slid a glass of water to her and with a hesitant smile said, “It’s starting to sound like a broken record’s playing over here.”
Sophie frowned and studied the clear liquid in a way she never had before. At first glance, there was nothing special about it. Then again, gasoline had seemed ordinary before the resource had become scarce.
She met Emanuel’s concerned gaze and tried to return his smile.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Yeah, there’s just a lot on my mind. Sergeant Overton still can’t get a message through to this other Biosphere, and their SOS stopped replaying four days ago. Something catastrophic must have happened,” Sophie said.
Emanuel sighed. “Well, then I should probably keep this next comment to myself. I don’t want to add to your stress,” he said, reaching for her hand.
She smiled but pulled away from his touch, reaching instead to massage her side. The weeks-old injury was healing nicely, but there was still the sporadic pain, and the scar that would be with her for the rest of her life. A slight twinge of pain followed her fingers but quickly faded away.
“Just spill it,” she said.
“It’s the readings from the drone we sent outside. The temperature is still rising. In the past five weeks, it’s already gone up two degrees—and that’s about to become three. If this keeps up—”
“We may die before the Organics drain the oceans after all?”
Emanuel nodded. “I’m concerned about the carbon locked away in the polar ice caps. When they melt, it will be released, increasing the greenhouse effect. That’s probably why the temperature is rising faster than Alexia calculated.”
“My God,” Sophie whispered.
Even after five weeks of living in this new world, Sophie still hadn’t fully grasped what had happened outside the Biosphere doors. Sure, she’d seen the empty streets, the orbs, and the alien monsters, but it wasn’t until she crunched the numbers that it finally became very clear—the planet, and all the life upon it, was taking its last breaths.
She had to remember the positives—the things she was thankful for, starting with the fact that the Biosphere was functioning well and Biome 1 was close to producing its first harvest. They still had power from the solar panels and backup generators for an indefinite amount of time. The reverse magnetic pulse generator they had taken from Luke Williard’s bunker was still fully operational. Without the RVM, they would have perished weeks ago. And Sophie couldn’t forget Alexia. The AI had proven more useful than she ever imagined.
Sophie reached for the glass of water and took a slow sip, savoring the liquid as it slid down her throat. “What about the oceans?” she asked. “What do we know about their current levels?”
Emanuel shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. The only way to really know is to send another drone.”
Sophie crossed her arms and watched Emanuel as he compulsively pushed his glasses farther up his nose. It was something he always did before testing a new hypothesis.
“I think we should send the second drone,” he said.
“We already discussed this.”
“I know, but things have changed. The temperature is rising faster than we thought.”
Sophie sighed. They only had two robots. One was in the field, and the other was out of commission. They could fix it, but she didn’t want to risk losing them both. “I’ve said it before: We need to wait for the other drone to get back safely.”
The PA system suddenly crackled to life, and Alexia’s holographic avatar flickered over a console in the center of the mess hall. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Doctors, but a pressing matter requires your attention,” she said in her calm voice. Emanuel spun in his chair. “What ya got, Alexia?”
“Sir, our drone has picked up some unusual activity outside.”
Sophie stood, groaning from a jolt of pain. “Unusual?”
“I think it’s best if you go look for yourself . . . and I encourage you to go now,” Alexia said in a voice that sounded almost frightened. Can robots feel fear? Sophie wondered briefly. She shook the thought away and raced out of the mess hall, with Emanuel close behind.
The sound of their footsteps echoed in the narrow passage as they made their way to the command center (CIC). Sergeant Overton met them at the door. He wore a serious face, more pale than usual, but it was his eyes that caused Sophie to skid to a halt. They were wide and intense.
What has he seen? What has Alexia found?
She stood on her toes to get a look at the blurry monitors at the other end of the room, but couldn’t see anything besides the flickering glow the devices emanated.
“Will you move, please?” she blurted, her voice anxious.
“I don’t think you want to see this, Sophie,” Overton replied.
Whatever the drone had relayed to the CIC had turned the battle-hardened sergeant into a silent observer. It was odd not hearing him curse or grumble. Sophie’s curiosity grew. The scientist in her wanted to see, had to see what it was.
“Excuse me,” Sophie said, edging past the marine.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said as Emanuel followed her.
Sophie moved up to the monitors and saw the drone had stopped on the edge of a clearing surrounded by a forest of dead trees. Leafless branches swayed in the light breeze, partially obstructing the view.
To the north the ground fell away and dropped several feet into a dry lakebed. Moving across the cracked dirt was a long line of . . . something.
Sophie edged closer to the screens. Squinting, she focused on the shapes as one of them let out a blood-curdling—and undeniably human—scream.
She clapped her hands together when she realized what they were looking at. The drone had found a group of survivors. So why did Overton seem so disturbed?
When she saw the alien tails of two Sentinels flicking across the dirt, her joy quickly turned to shock. The humans were prisoners, being herded across the lakebed.
The team watched the monitors in helpless silence.
A tiny blue dot flickered on the horizon.
“What’s that?” Emanuel asked. He pointed at the light racing across the skyline toward the clearing.
“One of their drones,” Overton said.
The ship stopped over the lakebed, filling the empty basin with its blue light. It was then Sophie could see the prisoners’ faces. Most of them were children, but there were a few adults among the group. To the south, a pack of Spiders broke through the underbrush and scurried across an old playground. One of them climbed to the top of a slide and shrieked into the night.
The group of humans slowed to a halt. Sounds of terrified, whimpering children filled the CIC.
Sophie resisted the urge to cover her ears. Instead, she moved closer to the monitors and watched the Spiders surround the pack of prisoners. It wasn’t hard for her to imagine what the aliens would do with them, but somewhere inside her, she still had hope they could be saved. She had to believe it.
“Is that—” Overton shoved Sophie and Emanuel to the side. “Holy shit! Is that Thompson and Kiel?”
Sophie squinted. Two men in fatigues moved slowly across the field.
“Holy shit,” Overton whispered again. The sight shocked him into motion, and he rushed over to the map of Colorado Springs on a nearby desk, unfolding the edges carefully.
“Thompson? Kiel?” Sophie asked. “Were they part of your team?”
Overton nodded. “Fucking miracle,” he mumbled under his breath. “Alexia, can you get me the coordinates of our drone’s position?”
“Yes, Sergeant Overton. One moment, please.”
A thunderous crash echoed through the room. The spiked tail of a Sentinel suddenly filled the video feed. Spikes swayed past the drone’s forward-facing camera. The creature had knocked the drone on its side, tilting the video angle 180 degrees. Now the team could see the entire lakebed.
There was something else.
Sophie didn’t believe it at first. Blue rods jutted out of the ground, like enormous electrical poles. They reminded her of sharp teeth biting into the sky. From their tops swung large, dark shapes. Sacks?, Sophie thought. But of what? And then immediately she knew: they were people. She turned away, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear the image from her memory. But it was too late. The cruciform outlines of bodies suspended on the glowing shafts were tattooed on her mind.
The Organics were farming humans.
Overton’s frantic voice rang out behind Sophie, startling her. “We have to help them!”
Sophie’s eyes snapped open and she turned to see the marine folding one of the maps in two.
“I need to find Bouma. We have to get out there and help those people.”
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