Critical Dawn (The Critical Series Book 1)

by Wearmouth

  “Replace my name with yours and the statement still makes perfect sense,” Gregor said.

  “For God’s sake. Will you two knock it off?” Layla said.

  She looked skywards again at the joined vessels. They’d maintained a position high above a few puffy, light orange clouds that drifted lazily past.

  “How can you get me on a shuttle to the mother ship?” Charlie said.

  “Easiest way is to put you in a food container,” Gregor said. “If we still have people left at the farm, it’ll work.”

  “You mean processed humans?” Denver said.

  “Does it matter now?” Layla said.

  The last thing they needed was to keep raking up their individual choices for survival. Layla noticed Gregor’s eyes kept flicking toward Ben. He nervously edged further away until he flinched as his back hit the semi-collapsed interior wall.

  “We arrange oxygen to be left behind the stacked trays,” Gregor said. “You get in before the container’s loaded onto a shuttle. Alex or Vlad can divert the croatoans elsewhere. We launch a diversionary attack on the farm. The shuttle will make an emergency take off.”

  “And we get shot with the cannon on the roof of the shuttle?” Denver said.

  “The croatoans are pragmatists. They don’t fire cannons toward their own buildings.”

  “You sure that’ll work?” Charlie said.

  “I can’t think of another way. You sure the bomb will work?” Gregor said.

  Charlie walked over and stood a couple of yards in front of Gregor. “It’ll work. But don’t bet on me not coming back, my friend.”

  Gregor’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t test me, Charlie. I could—”

  Masonry exploded inwards.

  Layla jumped back, covering her face.

  A light blue beam shot through the room, passing between Ben and Charlie. It punctured a basketball-sized hole in the opposite wall.

  Bricks clacked to the ground. Dust filled the air.

  Gregor picked up the rifle, spun, and pointed it through the ivy. “There’s a big, ugly alien outside.”

  “Is everyone all right?” Charlie said.

  Gregor fired two shots; both went clean through with no damage. “What the fuck? It turned into a blur.”

  Charlie crouched over Gregor and pulled leaves to one side. “We met that thing in New York.”

  “Augustus sent a hunter after you.”

  Layla ran across the room and knelt next to the gap that had been blasted out of the wall. She leaned around and saw a large croatoan prowling outside. It threw its weapon to one side and drew a sword from its thigh-sheath. The blade shone as though as it were made from chrome. Circular holes ran down the middle.

  She squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked against her shoulder. The croatoan shifted to its left at an unbelievable speed. Denver joined her by the hole and fired his rifle. The alien dodged again in a blur.

  “It’s impossible to hit the thing if it’s facing you,” Denver said. “We need to split up.”

  The alien raised its sword and moved toward the building.

  “Take the bomb to the edge of camp,” Charlie said. “Get everything prepared. Gregor says this thing’s after me. I’m going to create a diversion.”

  Denver nodded and ran to the back of the building. Ben stayed against the wall, shuddering. Layla decided not to argue and followed.

  “Get moving now,” Charlie said.

  She stopped and looked back. “Take the croatoan rifle.”

  Layla threw it to Charlie. He caught it in his left hand.

  Ben scrambled past her. Charlie jumped through the ivy and stood in front of the building. The alien pointed at him with its graphite gauntlet and swung its sword in a circular motion above its head. Charlie rushed to his right, back toward the forest in the opposite direction to the farm. The alien hopped after him.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Denver wiped the sweat and dirt from his eyes. The journey back from Manhattan had been long and tedious. He’d only caught a few hours of sleep as they drove back overnight. The weight of the bomb, the mines, and the other supplies in his backpack seemed heavier than his usual load. Luckily, his alien rifle helped balance things out.

  Pip trotted by his side, staying close. Even she didn’t like Gregor that much, and Denver had come to learn his dog’s intuition was often worth paying attention to.

  He’d noticed Gregor glancing at him and the weapon with an expression of jealousy, but then he had an automatic weapon, so he had nothing to concern himself in terms of who had the biggest penis replacement.

  They walked in a tense silence through the forest, heading for the farm. Gregor and Layla led the way. Maria hung back with Denver, and Ben floated between them. Denver pitied him really. A man needed a family or at least a close circle. Ben didn’t seem to fit particularly well anywhere, but at least he’d followed the plan and hadn’t sold Charlie and him out.

  And having Gregor and the others armed now seemed like great foresight considering the croatoans’ change of behavior. Denver wondered if Charlie had already foreseen that. It wouldn’t be too surprising.

  One didn’t survive for as long as Charlie Jackson without noticing small changes and having the smarts to plan ahead. Though the plan hadn’t gone down as expected, the result was the same: using the farm as a way into the ship.

  He thought about Charlie going up there with the bomb and not coming back. Up until now, it had felt like something that would happen in a future that wouldn’t have real consequences. A part of him perhaps thought it wouldn’t work out like this, that he’d come up with another plan. Of course, he had that bastard hunter on his tail, but Denver had full belief in his dad. Charlie knew these woods better than anyone.

  By following them here overnight, the hunter had made a big mistake. He’d given himself a massive disadvantage. This was Charlie’s playground. Advanced alien species or not, he was fighting Charlie Jackson in his backyard. And this backyard was loaded with surprises.

  “He’ll be okay, won’t he?” Maria said as Denver held back a thick branch to let her step through the trees into a clearing with a path worn into the compacted grass.

  “Yeah,” Denver said. “He’s like a ghost in this place. Don’t worry about him. Just keep your eyes open for anything waiting for us. We don’t know if the bastards up there have sent reinforcements yet or if they even know what’s going on.”

  “They won’t,” Gregor said, looking back over his shoulders. “I dealt with the guards. There’s none left to get word back. They’ll know when they don’t report in for the evening’s update, but we’ll be in position by then. Besides, Augustus thinks I’m dead.”

  “How can we be so sure?” Ben said, speaking for the first time since they left the clock tower. “Wouldn’t their bike’s movements send an alarm?”

  Gregor stopped and glared at Ben, clearly not liking someone questioning him. Ben flinched away when the gangster stepped closer. Denver put his hand on Ben’s shoulder and, towering over them, glared back at Gregor. “Drop this macho bullshit. We need to work together now. Just answer the question. Is there any way the ones that chased you or the ones at the farm compound could have raised an alarm?”

  Looking up at Denver, a smile of derision stretched across Gregor’s face. “A chip off the old block, eh? Just like your own old man, though he ain’t really your old man, is he? You were just something he stole from another family like a magpie.”

  Pip growled low in her throat, but she became quiet when Denver reached down and scratched behind her ears. “It’s okay, girl.”

  The bait attempt was obvious. Denver let the jibe wash over him. He didn’t care for word games. It was the sign of the inferior man. Denver didn’t need words to back up what he was capable of. “Ti
me’s getting on,” he said. “We can stand around all day behaving like kids, or you can just cooperate and work as a team. What is it? You want to take out your frustrations with my dad on me? Fancy your chances, do you, Gregor?”

  The older man seemed to size Denver up but hesitated. He smiled and shook his head. “Yeah, just like your old man. And for the last time, no, there is no alarm raised. And how do I know?” He pointed to the sky. “There’s no fucking craft or shuttles coming down from the mother ship. If the croatoans from the farm raised an alarm, we wouldn’t be standing here right now. For all they know, the ones that chased us had dealt with us. The orders were to kill me. Without any other update, there’s no reason to suspect anything else has happened. So let’s just shut the hell up and get to the farm while we still have the element of surprise.”

  Layla shrugged her shoulders in a silent apology to Denver and the others. How Gregor could have retained the loyalty of a woman like her, smart, capable, and beautiful, Denver would never know.

  But strange times called for strange alliances—even with someone as low as Gregor, the killer of Charlie’s true love, Pippa.

  “I wanted to thank you,” Ben said to Denver as they headed across the clearing.

  “Why’s that?”

  “For making things clear for me before I came here. I know it’s not how it was supposed to go down, but it was the right decision. With poor Ethan gone, I know I would have been useless in that kind of situation. I’m not cut out for this kind of thing.”

  “We just have to keep going,” Maria said. “Make sure Charlie gets the bomb up there, and we can have our revenge for Jimmy, Erika, and Ethan. Just focus, Ben. It’ll be over soon.”

  A hush descended as they made their way through the next section of forest. Fifteen minutes later, Gregor stopped everyone. “Just beyond here is my office and the rest of the compound. We need to get to Vlad and Alex.”

  “And secure the breeding rooms,” Layla said.

  “So how are we playing this? We can’t go in all guns blazing,” Denver said. “We need that shuttle to complete its routine pickup and wait for Charlie to get back.”

  “What if he doesn’t?” Maria said. She instantly held up her palms. “I know, I know, I’m just thinking of contingencies. In the unlikely event he doesn’t meet up with us.”

  “I’ll go,” Denver said. “I had Mike show me how the bomb works. If my dad’s not back in time for the shuttle, I’ll take his place.”

  Maria squeezed his arm, and a pained expression distorted her lips where unspoken words formed. He knew she cared, but he knew his duty. This was always his plan. And if he had the choice, he’d go instead of his dad anyway, regardless. He even considered somehow getting onto the shuttle before his dad so he didn’t have the option, but he knew it would hurt him too much. So he accepted that this was Charlie Jackson’s call, and as his son, he’d do as he was told.

  “We wait here,” Gregor said. “Give your old man a chance to show up. The shuttle isn’t due for another two hours.”

  “And in the meantime,” Layla said, “I’ll go and prep Vlad and Alex.”

  “Are you crazy?” Gregor said.

  “Not at all. Think about it. There’s no more of the larger croatoans left, only a handful of engineers and surveyors. They won’t have orders to kill me; that was for you. As far as they’re concerned, I’m no problem.”

  Gregor paused for a moment, probably assessing options, figuring out the various issues. Finally, he nodded. “If there’s any sign of problem, shout, scream, do whatever, but get our attention, and we’ll come in to help.”

  “I’m hoping it won’t come to that,” Layla said. “We’ll only get one chance at getting that bomb on the shuttle. When it goes back, they’ll know what’s happened.”

  “While you’re in there,” Gregor said, his face lighting up with an idea, “sabotage their communication rig. That way, if things get fucked up down here, those up there won’t have a clue.”

  Layla took a breath and checked herself over, smartening herself up. “I’ll tell them I just went out for a scout and got attacked by a survivor,” she said. “If there are any questions.”

  “The way Vlad is, I doubt he’ll even notice,” Gregor added. “Go now, and Layla? Take care, won’t you?”

  She gave him a wink and disappeared beyond the trees. Denver just hoped there wasn’t a welcome party waiting for her. But she seemed strong and intelligent. He had confidence she’d figure something out.

  And he hoped his dad would get here soon. He’d been listening for sounds of gunfire and landmines, but the forest had taken on a heavy silence. He didn’t like that one bit. It always seemed to be a precursor to something unnatural, something dangerous, like the insects and birds and the few remaining mammals knew before any human. Even the trees seemed too still.

  But there was nothing left to do now other than wait.

  ***

  Charlie vaulted a log and sidestepped the rusted remnants of a water tower stanchion. Serpentine branches had woven through the crisscross metal supports, creating a solid green barrier. Skidding like a kid playing baseball, he dug his foot into the dirt and swung around behind the natural cover.

  Sweat clung to his camo shirt, sticking it to his back. His lungs ached with the exertion. Having taken the last of the root compound before the drive back, he was feeling the effects of his old muscles.

  Despite that, he’d still managed to outfox the alien hunter. He looked through a gap in the branches and saw birds flutter high above the tree line, indicating something moving below.

  The snap of a twig ahead of him confirmed it. He raised the alien rifle and sighted down its aiming groove. He didn’t understand fully how the damn thing’s armor worked, but having shot it in the leg before, it seemed that it could be caught off guard.

  A rustle of leaves twenty feet away and a darting squirrel made him tense, ready and waiting. But then nothing.

  The forest became still, almost as if the hunter had placed a blanket over the place.

  It was a trap.

  The hair on the back of Charlie’s neck stood on end, and his pulse spiked.

  He spun round to see the dark shadow dart out from behind a huge redwood. The hunter focused on Charlie, raising its sword.

  Even with the injured leg, it sprinted across the ground, eating up the distance.

  Charlie tried to spin out of the way, but his elbow got caught against a branch, unbalancing him and making him stumble over a root.

  The rifle slipped from his hand. He hit the ground on his ribs, winding himself. But with the adrenaline making his reactions faster and the remnants of the compound still active, he managed to twist in time to avoid the slash of the sword as it struck the ground inches from his head.

  The alien’s thick legs, knotted with muscles beneath the form-fitting armor, planted on either side of him, pinning him in place.

  Looking closely, he noticed the armor was actually a mesh. He could see a jagged hole just above its reversed knee. The fabric had torn away to reveal a thick coating of orange gel: the root as a healing agent.

  The alien lifted its sword from the ground.

  Its face, visible through a clear visor, seemed to smile at him. Its solid black eyes grew small.

  It struck out, but Charlie had anticipated the head strike and leaned forward. The sword swung freely over his head, the creature’s arm crashing into Charlie’s right shoulder.

  He took the hit with a grunt and reached over with his left hand to pin the alien’s arm. Charlie kicked forward into its left knee, collapsing it to the ground.

  Charlie knew he’d never be able to out-power it, but he could outsmart it.

  Grabbing a fistful of dirt with his free hand, he smeared it across the visor, and, letting go of its trapped
arm, rolled away, coming up on his knees.

  From his flanking position, he noticed two pipes that connected its breathing apparatus to a slim tank on its bank.

  Before the alien had the chance to re-orient itself, Charlie launched himself onto its back, grabbing the pipes and pulling on them.

  They resisted at first, and the hunter tried to fling him from his back, but Charlie clung on and screamed with a deep roar as he put everything he had left into breaking those pipes.

  He felt the right one give, so he let go of the left and with both hands yanked on the right pipe. The alien dropped his sword and reached up and over with his hands, grabbing Charlie by the head.

  The damn thing’s strength was incredible.

  Charlie thought it’d crush his skull, but as it continued to thrash and buck, it pulled Charlie over its head and flung him away. The pipe came away with a loud hiss as Charlie collided with the ground; his head banged against a rock, making his vision swim.

  Through the dizziness, he watched as the hunter frantically tried to rejoin the connection to his breathing tank, but Charlie had the broken part in his hand. He dropped it and reached out for the alien rifle in front of him.

  Squinting to help combat his fuzzy vision, he pulled the trigger.

  The blast hit the alien square in the chest, throwing it back against the ground with a thud. Its arms collapsed by its side. Charlie heaved himself up and approached, holding the rifle in front of him.

  The alien was still. Yellow blood dripped from its chest, the wound raw and ugly, exposing its weird biology. Even its face, previously black behind the visor, had turned a sickly yellow color, its mouth held open in a silent snarl of final anguish.

  “You ugly fucker,” Charlie said, kicking at it to make it sure it was dead.