Critical Dawn (The Critical Series Book 1)

by Wearmouth

  The time was now.

  He slumped into the hole, fixing the oxygen mask over his face. As soon as they were in the shuttle, it’d pressurize to the croatoan atmosphere. It would take about fifteen minutes to get to the mother ship. He hoped that the oxygen tank Vlad had arranged contained enough air.

  With a solid, metallic clang, Vlad slammed the lid down on the container and locked the latches down on either side. It felt like the underground shelters he’d first used after the initial invasion. Too tight, too dark, but he was used to it. He just had to relax, control his breathing to avoid using up all the air, and wait until the shuttle was in place within the ship.

  Simple really. A quick journey, a press of a button, and it would all be over.

  Vibrations rumbled through the metal box, knocking him against the packages inside, packages containing his fellow humans.

  Through the lid, he heard the croatoans clicking their displeasure at the delay.

  The container stopped.

  Charlie’s chest tightened and his pulse raced. He tried to keep his breathing short and shallow. The latch on the right side pinged open, the lid buckling. A spray of light bled in. He’d surely be spotted. He thought about Gregor again, thought that this was a setup, and rued the lack of foresight to bring in a hand-weapon with him.

  The croatoans were getting angry, their clicks turning into barks. The container rocked violently to one side, the lid opening further, exposing him to anyone or anything that decided to look inside.

  Gregor! Come on, he thought. Where the hell are—

  Crack, crack, crack.

  The sound of gunfire erupted, making the croatoans panic, their barks now high-pitched sounds of alarm. The lid was slammed shut and the latch closed. Feet shuffled away. Something pneumatically hissed and thumped, and then the whir and whine of anti-grav engines.

  The ruse worked.

  Gregor came through.

  This was it.

  He clutched the bomb close to his body like a precious newborn. In a way, he thought, if all went well, it would give humanity a rebirth.

  If it went well.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Fifteen minutes had passed since the Jacksons’ departure. A distant buzz grew louder. The strange croatoan version of a forklift truck swept between trees up the trail.

  The vehicle buzzed along, a few feet off the ground, containers stacked at the front, balanced on two large, metallic prongs. A little croatoan controlled it like the aliens who navigated the harvesters. It sat in a transparent box and shifted levers around.

  Layla hoped Charlie was in one of the containers, clutching his bomb. Their survival depended on it. Everyone’s did.

  Four aliens stood next to the shuttle’s open hatch at the rear, roughly the size of a garage door.

  The forklift reached the shuttle and slowly dropped to the ground. Its prongs started to extend, moving the containers into the back of the craft. They slowly disappeared from view. The forklift pulled back the empty prongs and reversed before turning. It started to head back to the warehouse.

  “Is that it?” Maria said, “Or do they have multiple loads?”

  “Just one,” Gregor said. “On my signal. We turn and attack the farm.”

  Ben raised his head from a patch of long grass he was lying in. “I thought it was a diversion? You shoot and the shuttle takes off.”

  Gregor grimaced. “The fight back has begun. Charlie isn’t sacrificing himself for us to act like chickens. We kill every leather-faced bastard we find.”

  “So he’s your hero now?” Maria said.

  “Be careful, little lamb. I’m not the enemy. You don’t want me as one.”

  Layla listened but watched the croatoans. One appeared from the side of the shuttle carrying a scanner. The tennis-racket-shaped object gave off X-ray-like images on the clear, circular part. If Charlie was in a container, they’d identify him. The weight must’ve been slightly off, triggering suspicion amongst the aliens.

  Another croatoan joined the one carrying the scanner, and they disappeared into the back of the shuttle.

  “We need to do it now, Gregor,” Layla said.

  “Just seen it,” Gregor said. “We watch them take off, move straight through the trees to the main square. Make your shots count. Barracks first. Get their weapons. Okay?”

  Layla nodded. “Now or never.”

  “Ready,” Maria said, holding up her pistol.

  “I’ll be right behind you,” Ben said.

  Gregor aimed through the trees toward the forklift that was still moving slowly along the trial.

  He fired three times.

  The forklift picked up speed and disappeared from view.

  Croatoans at the back of the shuttle started to move with urgency. The two outside hopped straight into the side entrance. The two inside the back compartment sprang out and followed. The rear door smoothly closed with a pneumatic hiss. The graphite ramp slid into the body of the vehicle, and the side door slammed shut.

  Engines roared into life. Dirt blew across the landing strip.

  On the shuttle roof, the pulse cannon’s turret started to turn toward the forest.

  “Run,” Gregor said.

  Layla followed Gregor as he crashed through undergrowth like a wild boar. She glanced back. The shuttle was above the trees. Its cannon built toward a high-pitched crescendo.

  Gregor dived down and covered his ears. Layla did the same, landing with a squelch in a brown, stagnant puddle.

  The cannon boomed. A flash of brilliant light flooded the forest.

  Debris flew over her head. Branches landed on top of her.

  The shuttle’s engines whirred. Their noise started to drift away.

  Layla glanced up. The six pink rings were getting smaller, like a colorful domino in the sky, heading toward the mother ship, carrying its deadly payload.

  “Is everyone okay?” Gregor said.

  He stood and helped Layla up by her arm. A section of forest to their left, the size of a basketball court, had been obliterated by the cannon blast. Trees were smashed to the ground, their jagged black stumps smoking from the heat of the shot.

  Ben rustled through the leaves of a thick branch that had blown off a tree. Maria crouched next to Layla. “Do they have those things on the farm?”

  “No. Stick with Gregor. Do what he says. You’ll be fine.”

  Gregor moved off at pace again. He broke the tree line and raced past his office. Layla kept focused on the ground ahead, trying to keep up, searching for any croatoans who would have heard the shuttle fire.

  Single rifle shots came from the far end of the camp. Denver, carrying out his assault.

  Croatoan rifles started to snap closer to them, coming from the square.

  They moved along the side of the chocolate factory. Gregor paused at the end. Layla looked over his shoulder. Three aliens were mounting hover-bikes. Three fired toward the warehouse. Layla thought her heart was about to burst out of her chest as she struggled to control her breathing. This wasn’t her environment, and she wondered if Gregor really was the one to get them out of this. But with Denver back toward the square, she had no other choice but to trust and follow.

  Adopting a prone position, Gregor fired at three alien engineers standing in the square. One dropped forward, clutching its helmet. Denver must’ve hit another as it fell back between Gregor’s shots. The third croatoan started hopping away. Gregor cut it down before it could reach its barracks.

  “Maria, Ben, you take the chocolate factory. They’re unarmed. Layla, come with me,” Gregor said.

  They rushed across the square. Three hover-bikes thrust into the air and turned to face Layla. She ducked behind a parked hover-bike, tumbling down in a heap next to Gregor. She breath
ed deeply, steadied her hands, aimed, and fired.

  Shots echoed from behind, coming from inside the chocolate factory. Denver came running into the square before he knelt and started firing into the sky.

  An alien fell sideways off the closest hovering bike. It remained in its position, slowly spinning around. The two remaining bikes zipped away over the buildings in a southerly direction.

  “Where are they going?” Layla said.

  “Who knows?” Gregor replied. “Maybe to another farm. It’s two less we don’t have to worry about. Let’s get those alien rifles. I’m nearly out of ammo.”

  Denver met them at the bodies as they each picked up a weapon.

  “Did your dad make it?” Layla said.

  “Yeah. He’s in a container,” Denver said. “Where to from here? I’ve dealt with the lizards in the meat-processing place.”

  “Shoot out the windows of the barracks.” Gregor pointed to the buildings. “Drop anything that comes out of the doors.”

  They turned and collectively fired at the barracks windows. Thin, orange gas seeped from the bullet holes after the alien projectiles punctured through. A small croatoan, one of the surveyors, came running out without his protective visor and breathing equipment, his eyes wide with panic and terror. It was instantly felled by multiple shots.

  Nothing else came out of the buildings for the next minute as all three stood in the middle of the square, aiming at different points, covering a 360-degree arc.

  “If it’s this easy, why didn’t you do it before?” Denver asked.

  “There used to be soldiers. We’d be dead if they were still here,” Gregor said. “When they figure out what’s happened, and if your old man doesn’t manage to let off that bomb of his, you better be ready for their retaliation.”

  “This place has been ramping down for a while,” Layla said. She peered up at the two hulks crawling across the sky. “I bet it’s the same for all the farms. I thought they were moving to a management mode. It’s probably due to the atmosphere ship.”

  “Gregor. Denver. Help,” Maria called out. She staggered across from the chocolate factory.

  “What’s wrong?” Gregor said.

  “Ben’s dead. I’m out of bullets. The little ones ran to the end of the room and hid in a huddle. We fired from the door. Thought we’d got them all. Ben went to confirm, and two attacked him with small swords. Hacked him to death.”

  Gregor grunted and shook his head. “It was obvious he wouldn’t survive.”

  “Come on, Gregor,” Layla said. “He’s played his part.”

  “Is this how you think of your team?” Denver said.

  Gregor twisted around to face him. “Did you see where Alex and Vlad went?”

  Denver looked into the distance. “Dead. Aliens must have got them early.”

  “If I find their bodies with wounds inflicted by your rifle, I’ll rip off your arm, ram it through your head, and ride you around like a croatoan hover-bike. Do you understand?”

  The thought of Denver enacting swift revenge on Gregor’s team as soon as he had the opportunity sent a shiver down Layla’s spine. Although not completely implausible, his story for Alex and Vlad’s end didn’t seem to fit with how the aliens on the farm operated. They would’ve assumed that both were still part of the team.

  “Cut the empty threats,” Denver said. “We still need to clear these buildings”

  “I’ll take the chocolate factory with Maria. You take the breeding lab with Layla.”

  “Can’t I go with Denver?” Maria said.

  “No. This isn’t a family game,” Gregor said, asserting his control. “You don’t get to pick your favorite player. You’re coming with me. Now.”

  Layla understood Gregor’s logic. She’d grown more appreciative since seeing him more up close, how he reacted in dangerous situations. If they were going to be part of a team, start to forge bonds, this was a way to achieve it. The main issue was it left her with Denver.

  “Which one’s the breeding lab?” Denver said.

  “Over there,” Layla pointed. “You lead the way. Aliens don’t go in there that often.”

  She didn’t want to lead the way herself in case Denver took her out as soon as she got through the door. If he raised his weapon in her direction, Layla was going to fire first.

  He moved quickly to the entrance in a crouching run while Layla remained a few yards behind with her finger on the trigger. Just in case.

  Green lights blinked on a panel outside the door. The first time she’d seen them activated. The building had been pressurized to a conducive environment to keep human livestock post-change.

  Denver kicked open the door. A flood of cool air rushed out. He glanced back as the control panel started to beep, lights turning red after five seconds. “You know the layout. I’ll cover you.”

  Rifle fire crackled from inside the chocolate factory. Layla was confident that Gregor would sweep the place clean. They were on the brink of securing the farm, and she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to finish the remaining aliens. He was like a pit bull once he got something into his head.

  While Denver was looking ahead, his attention away from her, she raised the rifle to the back of his head. “Did you kill Alex and Vlad?”

  Denver looked around slowly, staring at the barrel of the rifle. He frowned and shook his head. “You really think that? How little you think of people outside of this place. From where I come from, we don’t kill other humans. You ought to look closer to home for that behavior. Besides, this is our chance. My dad isn’t sacrificing himself so we can squabble like petty criminals. So no, I didn’t fucking kill Vlad or Alex. You got it?”

  Layla felt the sincerity in his voice, the conviction, but Gregor would take some convincing. She could tell from Gregor’s earlier reaction that he didn’t believe Denver in the slightest and would carry out his own style of crime scene investigation to establish events. That was one situation she’d really like to avoid.

  “It’s one long corridor,” she said, pointing into the lab. “You take the doors on the right, I’ll take the left. We’ll do it together,” Layla said.

  Denver nodded and spun through the door, pointing his rifle at the first window. He took a couple of steps back and breathed, “Holy shit.” He glanced back at her, his eyes wide with surprise. “How are we going to get all of those women out safely?”

  Layla checked the first room on the left. “We’ll free them once the farm’s secured. I’ve got it worked out. Don’t worry, they’ll be safe.”

  While moving from door to door, Layla kept Denver in her peripheral vision. They glanced into each cell before moving along.

  She flinched as a croatoan rifle snapped. The glass on a cell door shattered next to her head, spraying fragments into the corridor.

  She crouched and felt a sting on her cheek and a warm dribble down her neck.

  Denver ducked next to her, holding his rifle to his chest. “It’s only a nick. Do any of these rooms have external windows?”

  Layla took a deep breath. Tried to compose herself. “No. One must’ve been hiding.”

  Another alien projectile whistled above them, slamming into the opposite door.

  The weapons shook in her hands. She glanced at Denver.

  He firmly nodded, stood, and fired twice.

  Two quiet clicks came from the cell.

  “Clear,” Denver said. “Let’s finish this and get out of here.”

  They proceeded to check the rest of the cells with more caution, creeping along the corridor, peering in with weapons pointed until reaching the end of the building. Layla immediately turned and headed for the entrance.

  Denver walked alongside her. “You must have a sick or strong mind to have put up with this.”

  “I did
what I needed to survive. I don’t expect you to understand my choice.”

  A hollow pop sounded outside. An alien grenade.

  Layla sprinted to the door and pushed it open. She knelt in the gap and scanned across the square with her rifle. Denver ran past her and took up a firing position a couple of yards away.

  Gregor had a small pile of alien grenades next to him. He tossed one into a shattered window of a barrack building and ducked. Smoke belched out after an explosion. Maria huddled behind a hover-bike, her hands over her head. She looked pale, scared—the opposite of Gregor, who seemed to be enjoying this far too much.

  “He’s a fast mover,” Denver said.

  “You should consider that if we want to take the fight further. Destroy more farms. Start wiping out their crops. We need effective people.”

  “Whoa. You think I want to team up with that piece of shit?”

  Gregor tossed another grenade into a barrack building as Denver jogged across to Maria. Layla looked around the square, taking in the devastation and the pile of dead croatoans. It’d been quite easy. A coordinated effort around the world could wipe out the farms. The problem was communications. The aliens had effectively cut all long-range comms when they screwed the ionosphere. Humans were sparse. Spread far and wide as individuals and small groups, avoiding rather than confronting the croatoans after their initial show of strength.

  If Charlie managed to take out the mother ship, they might just have a window of opportunity to destroy the remaining colonists, but they needed to pull in the same direction. A level of organization was required.

  Denver swung his rifle in Gregor’s direction.

  A barrack building door slowly opened, and an alien crawled out. Gregor kicked the croatoan in the chest. It collapsed to the ground. He stamped on its helmet visor, crushing it with the sole of his boot.

  Layla looked up. The shuttle had disappeared from view.