by Wearmouth
She’d arrived at the monitors as Igor was taking off in the square, the same time as the surveyors. They buzzed around in the usual fashion, business as usual stuff. Mixing soil samples in glass tubes, poring over charts, and generally appearing fussy. To avoid looking too suspicious, Layla moved to the back of the building.
Vlad slumped against the desk, oblivious to it all. He yawned and twiddled a pen. “Do you want a coffee? I’ve still got some of that freeze-dried crap left. A bit gravelly but …”
“No thanks. Have you seen anything different around here in the last couple of weeks?” Layla said.
“What do you mean? Like croatoan stuff? It’s all alien to me.”
Vlad seemed to have thrown up the mental shutters long ago. He didn’t care about anything, at least not when she tried to strike up a conversation. Layla couldn’t decide whether to feel jealous or sorry for him.
Her planned task for today was to check the occupants of the breeding lab. Events of the last two days had a horrible effect of pushing reality to the surface. Survival was no longer an excuse. The thin self-justification for her actions had vanished, and she knew it.
She got up and sighed. “I’ll leave you to it. Speak later.”
The job still had to be done. It wasn’t all about her personal feelings. Twenty women, humans, needed their welfare checking.
Croatoans streamed out of the door ahead of Layla. Outside, it was raining.
They circled around, taking off their gloves and jiggling their fingers. She hugged the side of the building to keep dry and headed for the breeding lab.
Livestock still had sex. One of the remaining human instincts or urges that hadn’t been stripped away by the croatoan regime. It was a daily occurrence in the paddock, embarrassing at first, but she’d gotten used to it.
At least the croatoans had stopped finding human intercourse a source of interest. They’d often gather around the paddock and watch, pointing at the male’s penis and clicking loudly.
The novelty wore off after a few months. Layla thought it was childish, like her former student colleagues who’d giggle at clips of animals having sex.
A tractor rumbled across the square. Alex, wearing her bright yellow waterproof, drove it from the meat factory toward the paddocks. She stopped when she saw Layla and called, “I took one in yesterday. Give me a shout if they need any more food.”
“Will do, thanks,” Layla said, holding her thumb up.
The tractor rumbled away, cutting a dirty track across the damp ground.
Any female exhibiting a bump would be identified, usually by Alex, during feeding time, and they’d be sent to the breeding lab. They were fed slop, kept inside, and monitored until they gave birth. Alex played midwife. Layla would assist if she were around. She hadn’t been required lately although a couple of women were only a matter of days away.
Layla took a deep breath and opened the door.
Inside, the roof echoed with the sound of a single woman’s quiet sobbing.
Symptoms of stress were common. Women would bite their nails, refuse to eat, and often shake. The paddock was their natural environment, unlike the enclosed walls, a single bed, and waste bucket. Layla had given up trying to offer comfort. It had a scarring effect. And when one started crying, others in adjoining rooms would often join them.
She walked along, glancing through small square windows on individual doors.
The layout inside was quite simple. A long corridor ran along the middle of the warehouse with brightly lit, sparse cells on either side. Forty in all. At the moment, they had a fifty percent occupancy rate.
The inhabitants were identified by room numbers, which Layla had painted on the doors.
One woman sat hugging her knees, rocking backwards and forwards. Another pressed her hand against the plastic pane as Layla passed. The majority of the twenty lay placidly on their black plastic mattresses.
In the second to last room near the end of the corridor on the floor, a woman was lying, spread out on her front. Layla took a sharp intake of breath. She knocked on the window and received no response.
She twisted the circular locking mechanism. It opened with a clank. Layla pushed the door, forcing it the last couple of inches with her shoulder to move rigid legs out of the way. Creating enough space to enter through a narrow gap.
When she reached down and grabbed an arm, it was pale and stiff. Too late. Rigor mortis had set in.
Next to the woman’s outstretched hand was a small, humanlike figure crafted from twisted, dry grass. A charm or keepsake. The first she’d seen created by livestock.
“Oh my God,” she breathed.
Layla hadn’t witnessed a death in the building before. She’d only heard about it occurring. The procedure was to hit the green call button by the entrance. Layla hurried along the corridor with her head in her hands.
She depressed the saucer-sized button. It flashed and let out two soft, electronic beeps.
A minute later, two croatoans walked across the main square carrying a gray metal slab, heading straight for the breeding lab. They didn’t move with any great urgency and stopped to talk to a group of aliens by the hover-bikes before finally reaching the building.
The first one bumped through the swing doors and looked at Layla. She led them along the corridor and pointed into the cell. The croatoans briefly paused. One clicked, and they both jerked forward.
They placed the slab on the floor, grabbed the body by its hair and robe, and rolled it on. The front area of the woman’s clothing was stained dark purple. Layla closed her eyes tightly and put her hand against the corridor wall for support.
The patter of alien feet passed her. She opened her eyes and watched them bounce along the corridor.
Faces started to appear through the little windows. One woman wailed. Then another. As the croatoans carried the body to the entrance, the whole place echoed with crying and moaning.
Layla followed the aliens, watched them bump back through the doors. They crossed the main square, around the hover-bikes, and straight into the meat-processing warehouse.
She leaned with her back against the wall. The wailing continued, penetrating deep inside her. She wanted to run but didn’t know where. She clasped her hands around the back of her head, bringing her elbows together in front of her face. Her back slid down the wall until she ended up in a crouching position.
A woman peered through the closest window, sobbing. Layla shuffled sideways toward the door, out of view, gulped, and took a deep breath.
She couldn’t hold it in any longer and joined the cacophony of weeping.
***
Layla composed herself in an empty cell, took a few deep breaths, and wiped tears from her face with her sweater sleeve. Something had to change. It was impossible to carry on at the farm now.
Perhaps it was time to find Charlie Jackson.
The breeding lab’s door banged open. Footsteps ran along the corridor. Vlad flashed past the open cell door. She heard him skid to a stop. He hurried into the cell.
“Layla, you’re wanted at the monitors. You need to come with me.” He fidgeted with a pencil, scraping his thumbnail against the sharpened end. “Layla. You have to—”
She sniffed and looked up. “Wanted by who?”
“Hey, are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine. What’s happening?”
Vlad held his hand toward her. “Augustus. He wants to speak to you. Says it’s a matter of great urgency.”
Augustus never spoke to Layla on an individual basis. She’d talked to him at meetings with Gregor, and he’d made the odd passing comment to her around camp. This was the first time he’d directly requested her presence.
“Why me? Did he say anything else? Was he angry?”
She grabbed V
lad’s hand and hauled herself off the bed.
“He specifically asked for you. As for angry, who knows?” Vlad shrugged. “He wears a mask, and I struggle to understand his accent.”
Augustus’s accent was a mystery. He spoke with the fluency of a native English speaker but didn’t sound like any Layla had previously heard or met. Gregor had asked him where he was from a few years ago. Augustus replied, Earth.
The rain had abated outside, and surveyors crowded around the chocolate factory table. They ignored Vlad and Layla’s entrance, more interested in a tablet that was being passed around like a hot potato.
She could see the outline of Augustus’s head on the main monitor, surrounded by color, waiting for her.
“Do you know where he’s transmitting from?” Layla said.
Vlad pointed upwards.
When she reached the desk, Augustus leaned forward. He stroked his mask. The wall behind him was decorated with a series of bright rings. The largest outer circle was light pink, the inner ones different shades of blue.
This was her first glimpse inside the mother ship. It looked like Augustus was in a psychedelic brothel.
“Please take a seat, Layla,” Augustus said. She slid a stool from under the desk. Vlad flopped in his customary position. “I didn’t tell you to sit down, Vlad. Leave the building. Return in five minutes.”
“I’ll grab a bite to eat,” Vlad said and moved out of view of the monitors. He raised his eyebrows and repeatedly circled his ear with his finger before walking away.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Augustus?” Layla said.
“Where were you at three o’clock this morning?”
Layla felt her stomach knot. “Excuse me?”
“It’s a straightforward question.”
“I was sleeping. Why do you ask?”
She clenched her hands tightly underneath the desk.
“We had a security breach. Somebody, a human, came in here last night and looked through secure croatoan data.”
“It wasn’t me. Have you checked with the others?”
The only person who saw Layla last night was Igor. If he was in Augustus’s pocket, he’d probably spill the beans. Another reason for her to run. Her only option left.
“We’re carrying out some print analysis on one of the devices. You’ll all be required here tonight. The guilty party will receive swift justice.”
Layla would be gone by then. She wasn’t hanging around for Augustus to pass his sentence. “What’s so important about the data?”
Augustus tutted. “It’s the principle. We still need farm workers, especially for the breeding lab. If somebody doesn’t want to play the game, I’ll be the one to blow the final whistle.”
“No problem, Mr. Augustus. See you back here tonight.”
He waved his bony finger. “I haven’t finished yet. There’s some news you need to be aware of. Gregor’s gone.”
She leaned back on the stool. “Gone?”
“As we speak, he’s having his employment terminated. I need you to step up. Are you with me?”
“He’s being terminated?”
“Why do you insist on repeating me? The details are a trivial technicality, none of your concern. I’ll assume that you are still part of our team. Which reminds me, is Igor around? I need to speak with him.”
Layla’s mouth felt dry. She gulped. “He left this morning. Haven’t seen him since.”
“Send him here as soon as you do. I can’t get in touch.”
“Is that it, Mr. Augustus?”
“For now.”
The screen flashed back to monitoring the two most northern harvesters. Little red trails across the map, expanding the root coverage. All critical measurements showing green.
They’d murdered Gregor.
Augustus had all but confirmed Igor was in cahoots with him. Igor knew about her clandestine trip to the chocolate factory. It was only a matter of time. Layla focused on short-term survival. There was nothing for it but to grab some personal items from her trailer and get as far away as possible.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mike was still smiling at Charlie when he handed him a chipped mug of steaming tea. Charlie took a deep swig and enjoyed the burning sensation. They sat around a dirty desk only slightly less cramped with stuff than Mike’s former desk above them in the Quaternary building.
“Since the invasion,” Charlie said to the others as they sat around the table, “Mike’s been in his element. Look at this place. It’s a tinker’s paradise. Every imaginable device is here, though most are in various stages of actual usefulness.”
Ethan had taken to Mike right away as Charlie’s old colleague gave the kid the tour. When they came back, it was obvious where Ethan’s future would lie. Right here with Mike building weapons and devices.
There was one problem however. Mai—Mike’s kinda-wife and fellow engineer. They’d set up a cozy existence together. Mai, a Chinese-American nuclear physicist, was one of the survivors within their cavern during the ice age. She and Mike had hit it off right away.
“So,” Charlie said, placing the mug on the table. “Now we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, what’s the status on the device?”
Mai entered the screened-off area carrying a silver Samsonite case. She cleared a space on the table and laid it flat, opening the lid and displaying for all to see the device that they’d been working on for the last five years.
It was all Mike’s idea. And it’d taken Charlie those five years to source the parts needed.
Maria looked over Charlie’s shoulder and Ethan over Mike’s. Denver was paying no attention, preferring to make a fuss of Pip, making sure she didn’t go sniffing into something dangerous. There was no telling what Mike and Mai had stashed around.
“What is it?” Maria said.
The device was the size of a laptop and was in fact built on the chassis of an old Lenovo Thinkpad. They were built with longevity in mind, and they’d certainly achieved that. In the early days of the design, Mike ironically wanted to use an Alienware machine.
“It’s a bomb,” Mai said, her accent now completely neutral. In the early days, she still had a lilt of Chinese to her, but with all the time spent with Mike, she’d come to sound just like him.
“Well, not exactly a traditional bomb,” Mike added with a smile. He pulled his long gray hair back, revealing a thinning pate. Not surprising considering his age. He was in his late seventies, but like Charlie, regular imbibing of the root kept him young and able.
At least that was one thing to thank the alien bastards for.
“So, what does it do if it’s not really a bomb?” Ethan said, leaning in further for a closer look.
Where the laptop screen used to be was now a rounded, metal shell. The track pad had been swapped out for a small OLED screen from a smartphone. The thing looked like a designer ‘70s toaster with some modern tech cobbled onto it, but beneath that shell was one of the most potent weapons ever devised, assuming it’d work.
“Well,” Mike said, putting his arm around Ethan’s shoulder. “What do you know of EMP devices?”
“Erm, nothing? Yet.”
Mike smiled, seeming to like the kid. “It stands for Electro-Magnetic Pulse.”
“Or Extreme Magnetic Pain,” Mai said with a wicked grin. Her leathery face and its many folds hid her intelligent eyes. She was younger than Mike by twenty years, but they could well have been twins on personality. Both wore wacky sweaters, and both had a brain that Charlie could only wish he had.
“So what does it do?” Maria said. “And how will this save us all as Charlie said?”
“It’ll tear the aliens a new asshole and send them packing back to the ass-end of the galaxy,” Mike said. “Once detonated, those turtle-looking
fuckers won’t know what hit ‘em. Inside this unassuming shell is a nuclear bomb that makes Hiroshima look like a bee-sting. When it goes, it won’t just blow anything up, it’ll destroy anything electrical for hundreds and thousands of miles around.”
Maria seemed to understand as she turned to Charlie. “So for this to be effective, it’ll need to be set off within the croatoan ship? That means someone has to—”
Charlie stopped her with a hand, “We’ll come to that later. Mike, what’s the situation; it’s not ready to go, is it? And I can tell something’s up.”
“No,” Mike said. “We need one more part.”
Mai leaned against the table, regarding Charlie with her wise eyes. “Someone will need to make a trip to the Ford warehouse north of here. There’s a special kind of magnet they used in their last models. It’ll help regulate and deliver the pulse. We found an old one, but it wasn’t efficient enough. We need a new, unused one from the parts warehouse—if there’s any there of course.”
“Fuck it,” Charlie said, turning his back. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be an ass, I just thought …” He took a deep breath as Denver entered the room and stood in front of him.
“It’s not a problem, Dad. We’ll go get it. It’s only an hour’s walk. We’ll get the part and be out of here. The plan can still go ahead.”
“You’re right, son. I just wanted … I’m just getting impatient in my old age.”
“Here,” Mike said, handing Charlie a small black disc the size of an old dollar coin. “That’s the burnt-out one we found. We need something like that; two, if you can find them, would be even better. Always good to have a backup.”
“You got it. We’ll go now. Quicker we get it, the quicker we can carry out the rest of the plan,” Charlie said. “How long will it take you to fit?”
“A few minutes,” Mai said.
“Come on, son, let’s go for a midday stroll into town.”