Rogue Star_Frozen Earth_Post-Apocalyptic Technothriller

by Jasper T. Scott

  “What’s his girl’s name?”

  “Celine,” I said.

  “Celine Hartford?”

  Alex had never given me a last name and I’d never asked, but how many Celines could there be in one neighborhood? “Yeah,” I said. Finally someone who could point the way to her house.

  The man lowered his gun. “I’m Duncan Mayfield.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said. I jerked a thumb to the door just as the rumble of another explosion came rattling through Duncan’s house. “Do you have any idea what’s going on out there?”

  “Have you been living under a rock or something?”

  “Or something,” I confirmed.

  “There’s aliens landing all over the planet! We’re shooting down as many as we can, but they’re shooting back.”

  “But why? Did they shoot first?”

  Duncan holstered his gun in his pants pocket and adjusted his jacket to conceal the weapon. “Maybe we’d better go sit down,” he said. He led the way to an adjacent living room, and I went to sit on a couch beside a bay window. Through the gauzy white curtains I saw that the car fire was still burning bright.

  “Are you crazy?” Duncan asked just as I sat down. He stood beside a door at the far end of his living room. “Down here,” he said as he opened the door. I crossed over to him and saw an unfinished plywood staircase vanishing into a shadowy basement. “Go on, hurry up.”

  I could barely see Duncan’s face, let alone the stairs. Grabbing the railing I began to feel my way down. Duncan shut the door and what little light there’d been vanished entirely. My eyes widened in a vain attempt to let in more light, and I turned to look behind me. My instincts were screaming at me for following this stranger into his basement. “Duncan?” I asked.

  “Yeah?” A penlight snapped on, peeling back the shadows and blinding me at the same time. “Keep moving,” he said as he started down the stairs.

  The penlight was barely enough to keep me from tripping. The basement smelled dank and moldy. My instincts were still screaming. This was a bad idea. “You know I just need to find my son. If you could point the way to Celine’s house...”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I turned from the bottom of the stairs to peer up at Duncan. The penlight bobbed as he ambled down the stairs. He walked by me and flicked something with a click. A desk lamp snapped on, revealing a table filled with ammunition and guns.

  He gestured to an old BarcaLounger with the stuffing coming out that sat in front of an ancient TV set. “You want to find your son? Sit down and listen. It’s not safe out there. If your son is smart, he’s hiding in his girlfriend’s basement with the lights off.”

  Duncan eased down onto a stool beside the table of guns. I went to sit in the BarcaLounger as directed, and swiveled it to watch him in the gloomy yellow light of the lamp. Seeing him clearly for the first time, I was taken aback. Duncan was wrinklier than an elephant, and the patches of peach fuzz on his head were white as silk. I’d just assumed from the way he’d pulled me inside so easily that he was a young man. But despite his age, Duncan didn’t look frail.

  He fixed me with a hard look. “So you don’t know anything?”

  I shook my head. “Just about the rogue star and the signals. Nothing about what happened when they arrived.”

  Duncan grunted and pulled the gun out of his pocket. Laying it on the table beside him, he leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “To answer your question earlier, they didn’t fire the first shot—not with guns, anyway. A little less than a week ago they came down with a handful of ships. They went straight for all the warmest parts of the planet. One of them landed right here in Texas, another in Louisiana, another in Florida. By some miracle we got to watch it on TV and hear about it on the radio—maybe all the technicians whose job it is to fix things finally got off their asses and fixed the networks for a day, or maybe the government did it for them.”

  I nodded for him to go on. “What happened after they landed?”

  “Nothing. They just sat there and waited for our response. They must have sat there for a whole day before the president herself flew down to say hi. I bet a whole lot of people tried to stop her, but—” Duncan snorted and shook his head. “Women. Once they get a thing in their heads...”

  “What happened?” This story was dragging on. I needed to find Alex.

  “Well, once they saw the president standing there with her bodyguards, calling to them with a megaphone, the lander opened up, and their ambassador came out. It had two arms, two legs, a head, clear white skin, and these dead blue eyes. It looked just like one of us, except that it had to be eight feet tall, and it walked like it had a stick up its butt. It came alone and stopped within a few feet of the president; then its mouth gaped open, and this screeching sound came out.”

  I remembered the noise I’d heard over the radio—the one that silenced the soldiers’ screams. “Then what?”

  “Half a dozen hovering disc things came racing out of its ship. The president’s bodyguards pulled her back and whipped out their guns, but the ambassador didn’t seem to mind. Those hovering disks came together in a circle to project images in the air between them, right in front of the president. The first image showed Earth from orbit. The second one showed our planet, but as it will be in a few years, when glaciers cover eighty percent of the planet. A big snowball. You could see that the oceans had dropped, but everything around the equator still looked green and brown.”

  “Go on,” I said slowly.

  “Then they highlighted everything from southern Texas to Brazil in a bright green band. The water, too. The Earth rotated, showing that the green went all the way around.

  “By this point I was thinking to myself, great! They know what we’re up against. That must mean they’re here to help, right?” He shook his head in dismay.

  As the former editor-in-chief of a big publisher, I wanted to take a red pen to this guy’s mouth. “You can skip the editorializing.”

  Duncan’s eyes pinched into wrinkly slits. “You want me to tell the story or not?”

  I swallowed my annoyance and waved a hand for him to go on. “Sorry.”

  “As I was saying, the planet rotated to show everything they’d highlighted. Then the ambassador pointed at President Fowler with a long, skinny finger, and another image appeared. It showed the sorry masses of humanity, all bundled in blankets and coats, walking from this lush, green field with trees and flowers and birds into a snow-covered wasteland.” Duncan broke into a bitter peal of laughter. “You had to see the look on Fowler’s face!” He chuckled darkly for a second longer, but then subsided with a sigh that sounded more like a sob.

  He went on, “The camera panned back around to show the field, and then it hovered up so you could see all these big silvery spaceships sticking up between the trees. I don’t know if that was intentional or not, but we got the message loud and clear. The damn Screechers were kicking us out of the only place left on the planet where we’ll be able to live, and flipping us the bird to wave goodbye.”

  Chapter 30

  None of it made any sense to me. “So, they’re kicking us out.”

  “Trying to,” Duncan replied, nodding. “But we’re giving them hell. It’s not like the movies. They didn’t come with ray guns and energy shields. They came with rocket ships armed with high-powered lasers, missiles, and hyper-velocity projectile weapons. Not to mention, there’s a lot fewer of them than there are of us.”

  “So... we’re winning?” I asked.

  Duncan shrugged. “Hard to say. We haven’t had power for the past week, and that means no cable. I’ve been listening on the radio, but the signal’s bad.”

  I pointed to the lamp beside him. “If there’s no power how do you have working lights?”

  Duncan smiled and glanced up at the ceiling. “Solar panels on the roof. I’ve got just enough juice to turn on the lights and keep the fridge running.”

  I chewed my lip. “What a
re they?”

  “Machines. Robots.”

  “That look like us?”

  Duncan barked a laugh. “Some of them. I guess they thought we’d take the eviction notice better if it came from a friendly face. Only the ambassadors have skin, though.”

  “But how did they know what we look like before they arrived?”

  Duncan shrugged. “Maybe they’ve been watching us from afar. They say it must have taken them hundreds of years to get here. That’s a lot of time to prepare.”

  I puzzled over that, wondering how they could possibly see us from that far. Something told me a telescope wouldn’t cut it. “What do the rest of them look like?”

  “There’s all different kinds—some big, some small, some with legs, some with wheels—others that fly. It’s the flying disks you’ve got to watch for, if you ask me. They’re smaller, so there’s lots more of them, and there’s no way to see them at night. They can see us just fine, though. They track infrared signatures.”

  “Is that what destroyed that car?”

  “No, that had to be one of the bigger Screechers.”

  “That’s what they’re called?”

  “A nickname from TV, yeah. I think it stuck. Hard to say. Anyway, it fits. That’s what they sound like when they’re trying to talk. They screech. Must be their language.”

  “If they’re all robots, where are their creators?”

  Duncan arched an eyebrow at me. “Maybe they killed them. That’s why everyone’s so scared of AI, right? The rise of the machines.”

  “All right, but then why kick us out of the warmest parts of the planet? In fact, why come to Earth at all?”

  Duncan shook his head. “More resources? Easier access when they’re not buried under miles of ice? Or maybe they’re just looking for a change of scenery.”

  All these maybes weren’t getting me anywhere. I got up from my chair. It was time to go. “I need to go find my son.”

  Duncan held a finger to his mouth and cupped a hand to his ear. “Shh. Listen.”

  I did. The rattling pops of machine guns drifted to my ears.

  “They’re still fighting out there. You should wait.”

  “I can’t. What if they find him before I do? I need to get my son to safety.”

  Duncan snorted. “There’s no such thing. With any luck our boys will beat them, but until then, the best you can do is hide in your basement and stay away from the windows.”

  “Thanks for the advice, but I’m going. I’d appreciate it if you could point the way to Celine’s house.”

  Duncan held my gaze for a long moment, his jaw visibly clenching. “Damn it. Fine, have it your way.” He stood up and grabbed his pistol. Slipping it into his pocket, he grabbed another one from the table beside him and held it out to me. “You know how to handle a firearm?”

  I nodded and checked the gun in the light. It was a Glock. I pressed the button to eject the magazine and check that it was loaded. Pushing it back in until I heard a click, I pulled back on the slide to chamber a round. I made sure to keep my finger far away from the trigger. Unlike most guns, I knew that Glocks had a hair trigger.

  Duncan nodded approvingly. “Don’t shoot unless you have to. The Screechers track sounds just as well as heat.” With that, he turned out the lamp beside him, and used his pen light to lead the way back up the stairs.

  Once we reached the front door, he opened it and I walked out into the night. My eyes flicked every which way, looking for those hovering disks that Duncan had mentioned. Keys jingled, and I turned to see Duncan locking the door behind us.

  “You’re coming with me?” I whispered.

  He answered with a flash of white teeth. “You’re going to get yourself killed if I don’t. Come on,” he said, and led the way across his lawn. He held his gun in both hands and swept it around, scanning the sky for targets. He looked like he had combat training of some kind. I followed as closely as I could, and mimicked his movements. When we hit the sidewalk, he broke into a light run.

  Up ahead I saw headlights pooling on a cross street, but they weren’t moving. The idling rumble of a truck’s engine reached my ears along with the distant popping of more gunfire. We reached the cross street and found the truck attached to the headlights, standing just a few feet away from us. It was an armored Humvee. The windshield was spidered with cracks around multiple bullet holes, and splashed with blood. A dark shape was draped over the roof, the barrel of a machine gun turret angled up at the sky.

  I stopped and stared at the truck. Those soldiers had come here to protect us, and they’d lost their lives in the process.

  A strong hand grabbed my jacket and yanked me toward the Humvee. “They’re coming,” Duncan hissed beside my ear, and I noticed a buzzing noise cutting through the distant sounds of battle, approaching fast.

  Chapter 31

  Duncan bolted over to the side of the Humvee. I ran after him, and we crouched together beside the idling engine. The buzzing grew quickly louder, then faded into the distance. Thinking that meant the way was clear, I began to stand, but Duncan yanked me back down. “Don’t move,” he hissed.

  I glared at him through the shadows. Getting jerked around like a dog on a leash was getting old.

  “Their sensors are 360 degrees,” Duncan whispered. “The slightest flicker of movement on their infrared will send a bullet whistling through your chest faster than you can blink.” Duncan’s eyes flicked up. “How do you think those soldiers died?”

  “We can’t stay here forever,” I objected.

  Duncan held up a hand and mouthed for me to wait. A few seconds later he peeked up over the hood of the car. I held my breath and listened.

  “Clear,” Duncan whispered. He made a follow-me gesture, and then sprang out of cover. I raced after him as he cut across the front lawn of a big corner house a few dozen yards away. A full moon turned the grass to a gleaming silver carpet under my feet.

  Duncan went straight for the front door. I saw the bars on the windows, and my heart jumped inside my chest. This had to be Celine’s house. Duncan reached the door and crouched down in the shadows of Celine’s front porch. He waved me over as I bounded up the steps. I crouched in the shadows beside him, gasping for air. Duncan clamped a hand over my mouth, pinning me to the wall. The buzzing sound was back and quickly growing closer.

  He cursed under his breath and reached up to try the door handle. Before I could ask, he shook his head. Of course it was locked. He stood up and fired his gun into the lock three times. A ricocheting bullet crunched through the siding beside my head, and I leapt out of cover. I could see the lock on the door was mangled by the bullets. Duncan kicked the door. Thud. It shook with the impact, but showed no signs of yielding.

  The buzzing noise became a roar, and booming sounds followed in a steady rhythm. They sounded like footsteps. Duncan turned to me with wide eyes. A shrill screech drew our eyes away from each other to a disc-shaped drone hovering a few feet away from us and gleaming in the moonlight. It screeched again, and Duncan answered with an inarticulate roar. He fired his pistol at the drone, three times fast. Bullets clinked off its armor, then came a metallic shearing noise, followed by a crunch, and the buzzing abruptly stopped. The disc fell to the grass with a thump and lay still.

  I let out a shuddery breath, thinking we were in the clear. Another boom shook through us, followed by what sounded like a tank cannon swiveling, and then a deafening BANG!

  Duncan exploded like an over-ripe tomato. So did the door behind him. A blast of heat, shrapnel, and gore slammed me against the wall and clacked my teeth together. Sharp stinging pains throbbed in my face and neck. My ears rang and ached, making it impossible to hear, but I could still feel those heavy plodding footsteps shuddering through the wooden beams beneath my feet. Blinking in shock, I saw the source of that earthquake—a massive four-legged machine with articulated arms. One of those arms was pointed at me, and the tip was glowing white-hot.

  I dived through the shattered doo
r, sliding in a puddle of gore that I thankfully couldn’t see.

  A muffled BANG reached my injured ears. The shock-wave carried me inside and sent me sprawling with another blast of heat. I scrambled to my feet and ran deeper inside the house. Another blast chased after me, splintering the wall beside me and knocking me into the opposite one. Stumbling on with my momentum, I reached the end of the hall and emerged in an open living space. Desperate for cover, I turned sharply to duck into the kitchen, but my shoes slipped on the tiles and I went down hard. Just as well. Another projectile whistled by, right where I had been standing, and blew out the French doors at the back of the house. Shards of glass zipped by me, like needles to my already battered face.

  I crawled around the corner and hunkered down between kitchen cabinets. Patting myself down in the dark, I checked for any serious injuries that might have escaped my notice with all the adrenaline pumping through my system. The worst was a six-inch splinter lodged partway into my thigh. I pulled it out, and staunched the flow of blood with my hands. Empty hands. Somewhere along the way I’d lost the gun Duncan had given me.

  Grief and guilt washed over me at the memory of the old man. It was my fault that he was dead. He’d warned me not to go out.

  A door swung open between the kitchen and the living room, and a man popped out, the barrel of a shotgun sweeping through the gloom. The weapon found me and the man’s gleaming eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you?” he hissed. “And how did you get in here?”

  “Logan Willis,” I replied.

  The barrel of the shotgun wavered. “Alex’s father?”

  I nodded, and he waved me over. I eased up to my feet and limped over to him, suddenly noticing that every inch of me either stung with shrapnel or ached with bruises. Blood ran down my leg in a warm trickle, soaking into my jeans. Walking through the open door, I saw a shadowy staircase leading down into a dimly-lit basement. The man with the shotgun shut and locked the door behind us. A flashlight swept up to greet us, momentarily blinding me as it parted the shadows in a wide swath.