by Kelly Goode
Merciless
By Kelly Goode
Invasive Species Series - Book #1
Copyright © 2018 by Kelly Goode
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Covered Creatively
www.coveredcreatively.com
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Kelly Goode
Visit my website at www.KellyGoode.co.uk
Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
1
An invasive species is a plant, fungus, or animal that is not native to a specific location (an introduced species), and that has a tendency to spread to a degree believed to cause damage to the environment, human economy, or to human health.
Mercy was seldom granted and for the snivelling form at her feet, it would be no exception. Bound, bloody and naked, he whimpered like a child.
‘Please, let me go.’
Carson remained silent, concentrating only on loading her gun. The large warehouse was full of scurrying shadows, but there were bigger things to worry about than the rats.
‘Please,’ the man pleaded. ‘I swear it’ll never happen again.’
She removed the safety catch and took aim.
‘Stop, wait, I beg you.’
The man struggled against his ties, desperate for a way out. The rope burned against his wrists with each desperate movement and transformed his white skin to an angry shade of red, but she felt no remorse. The punishment matched the crime.
‘When I break free, I’m going to rip your fucking head off.’
Carson sighed. After the begging, always came anger. They hated feeling helpless, hated the fact she’d caught them. It was all so damn predictable.
‘You stupid bitch, you’re all the same. I’m going to enjoy taking you apart limb by limb.’
Carson crouched to the man’s eye level, mindful to keep the gun fixed on his dirt encrusted face and a safe distance between them. He sniffed the air, as if checking for weakness or a change of heart, but he would find neither within her.
‘I’ll let you into a secret, Malcolm,’ she said, as she stared into his vacant eyes. ‘We’re not all the same. Some of us bitches, as you so eloquently put it, know a monster when we see one.’
‘You think you know me, pretty thing?’ he asked, his voice now raspy from the excessive shouting.
‘I know you killed that little girl.’
Malcolm cocked his head to one side, as if suddenly understanding why he’d been hunted down. Whilst physically he seemed pathetic, as his thin, naked body shook from the cold, there was a renewed glint in his eyes.
‘So that’s what this is all about,’ he said. ‘I took one measly girl. There are a million more out there. With no parents to miss her, why should it matter?’
‘It always matters,’ Carson said, and she felt her jaw tick with anger. ‘You know the rules.’
Blood pounded in her ears. She knew she should stop talking to him. Regulations stated that you never spoke to the target, as it gave them a chance to explain away their crime. This repulsive murderer was trying to stall the inevitable, but she’d already allowed his justification to get under her skin and she needed to hear his confession.
‘It’s almost as if you cared about little orphan Annie. How touching. An assassin with morals. Who would have thought it? Does your boss know you’re developing a conscience? He’d probably put you down if he knew. Can’t have his prize bitch pulling on her leash; that wouldn’t be good for business.’
‘Her name was Liv,’ Carson said slowly.
‘What?’
‘Her name was Liv,’ she repeated louder this time and her voice echoed around the deserted warehouse.
‘Annie? Liv?’ Malcolm shrugged, licking his lips. ‘Whoever she was, she tasted divine. Such young, plump, succulent flesh always does.’
Carson’s revulsion was evident on her face and he started laughing. In that split-second, her grip on the gun wavered and Malcolm pounced. It was only the tautness of the ropes that kept him from grabbing her throat and she fell backwards with a thud.
‘See pretty thing, you’re no different. You think having a gun gives you power over me, but I’m not scared of that. I’m not scared of anything. You can’t-’
Carson didn’t let him finish. She pulled the trigger and the bullet left a dark smoking entrance wound in his forehead. He almost seemed to register surprise before his body slumped forward and hit the ground.
2
Carson clambered to her feet and threw the discharged gun to the floor. It wouldn’t be any good after the transformation.
1, 2, 3-
As she pulled another gun from her belt, she counted the seconds in her head,
4, 5, 6-
She checked the cartridges and sprinted towards the exit.
7, 8, 9-
She took a deep breath, planted her feet shoulder width apart, and pointed her gun at the corpse.
10-
Malcolm’s body convulsed and exploded. Watching the alien burst from the dead human’s skin still unsettled her, even after all her years of hunting and eliminating them. It sounded like a balloon popping and made her stomach heave with disgust. Blood flew in all directions, as the monstrosity lifted its head and screamed a victory cry.
Now it came down to survival - kill or be killed.
The alien she faced was a parasite that preyed on the weak. It resembled a mutated earthworm with sharp teeth. It had a tube-shaped body and segmented skin, and usually lived underground. Sunlight was deadly, unless it flayed a human and used their skin as a protective casing. Their species were classed as opportunistic carnivores that survived by eating small domestic animals or infirm humans, but every so often they grew bolder and took on a healthy victim’s identity until someone like Carson was tasked with eradicating them. A job she never wanted or really signed up for, but fulfilled all the same.
Aliens didn’t invade Earth as depicted in the movies. They didn’t swarm the planet in huge flying-saucer spaceships and start war or mass-panic. Unfortunately, they were smarter than that. Their attack was subtle and calcula
ted. The first aliens invaded decades ago. The scouters, as they were known, were sent to find a way to adjust to Earth’s atmosphere and facilitated the second wave - the deadly desquamaters. These aliens infiltrated society, wearing human skin and identities like fashion accessories, with the goal of exterminating all creatures from the planet.
Although the third and final wave was imminent, most humans didn’t realise they shared a planet with aliens that could skin them alive and that’s the way the government wanted to keep it. They set up a special branch at the Invasive Species Control Centre which eliminated any known desquamaters and prevented them from sending information back to their commanders.
Carson tried not to wince as each part of the alien’s fragmented body cracked into place. It wasn’t soft like the worm it resembled, or else she’d have no trouble crushing it beneath her boot. It had a hard outer-shell and humanoid arms and legs. She recited the team mantra over and over in her head to steady her pulse. It was a code she lived by. A code she survived by. Show no fear. Show no mercy.
The desquamater stretched its almost translucent forearms and shook its head side to side. Saliva landed on Carson’s face and she resisted the temptation to wipe it off, focusing only on the job at hand.
‘Wasn’t expecting that was you, pretty thing?’
‘Actually, I was.’
Carson fired the first cartridge, which fused against its stomach.
‘Ah, that tickles.’
She pumped her gun until it was empty. Each blast hit its intended target, but did not stop the alien from advancing. It only stopped when it was inches from her face and she was backed against the door. Carson held her breath. She expected to feel pain, but the creature did not attack. Instead, it sniffed her neck and its cold, rancid breath filled her nose. Tension curled in her stomach as it licked her cheek. She closed her eyes and began counting again.
1, 2, 3-
‘Now where shall I start, pretty thing?’
4, 5, 6-
‘Shall I peel your skin from top to bottom? Or bottom to top?’
7, 8, 9-
‘Either way is going to hurt, and once I’m safely wearing your skin, I’m going to feast on the flesh from your bones and suck out your brain through your empty eye sockets.’
10-
Carson felt the alien’s clawed hand slice across her shoulder and she prayed her calculations were correct. She opened her eyes just as the electronic devices within the cartridges detonated and ripped the creature apart from the inside out. Blood rained down from the ceiling and severed body parts hit her like a jet.
The force propelled her backwards and with nowhere else to go, she slammed painfully against the door. The back of her head collided with metal and the air was forced out of her lungs with a groan.
‘Think you could cut it a bit closer next time, partner?’
At first, Carson wasn’t sure whether she’d imaged the voice, but when two strong arms grabbed her around the waist and effortlessly lifted her up, she realised the words were real and she was in big trouble.
3
‘Fucking hell, are you trying to kill yourself?’
Carson looked up into the face of her partner, Blake Holloway. Her ears were ringing and her skin felt tight and raw, as if she’d been out in the sun too long.
‘Not my fault you have to kill the bastards twice,’ she slurred.
Blake took her gun and she crumpled to the floor. He propped her against the wall and used his body weight as support.
‘I had it under control,’ she insisted.
‘Oh yeah, right, I could see that. What’s the recommended minimum safe distance on those grenades?’
‘About a metre or so.’
‘Try closer to ten metres.’
‘Well it’s wrong, I’m fine - see.’
Blake pulled out a flashlight and directed the beam into her eyes.
‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ he muttered, as Carson tried to bat his hand away, but he continued to hold her eyelids open so he could peer into them.
‘Knock it off. I said I’m fine.’
‘Why do you have to do these things on your own? You should have waited for me.’
‘I left you a message.’
‘You left a fucking post-it note on my desk. I got here as quickly as I could.’
Carson tried to ignore the concern on his face and the sharpness of his tone. It was clear he’d been awake all night and she felt guilty for the black smudges under his eyes. The dark stubble on his chin and unkempt dark-blond hair were signs that he’d rushed to help without a second thought as to what he looked like.
‘You need a haircut,’ she said, reaching out and pulling at a strand of his long hair. Usually he wore it tied back for missions, but she liked it better when he left it loose to skim across his shoulders like this. Carson smoothed the stray lock back behind his ear where it belonged and her fingers lingered a little too long on his lobe, causing him to swallow deeply.
‘And you need a brain transplant,’ Blake said, releasing his hold on her eyelids and putting his flashlight away. ‘Wait here.’
‘Do I have any other choice?’
His reply was to reload the empty gun with cartridges from his belt, leaving Carson to observe the way he systematically checked the warehouse. He moved quickly and nimbly for such a tall man. Only when he’d circled back, satisfied there were no other dangers, did he holster the weapon.
‘I think you’ll find that’s mine,’ she said, struggling to get to her feet, but Blake shook his head and pushed down on her shoulders, halting her attempt to stand.
‘As your superior, I’m confiscating your weapons until you’ve been cleared by medical.’
‘Hey, hold on, you said we were equal partners. None of this sergeant and lieutenant crap.’
‘Well that was before you decided to take on an alien without back-up. Besides, I’m older, therefore superior. Now what in the world is that smell?’
‘Me,’ she replied, pulling a handful of undefinable red-matter from her short hair. ‘I call it eau de death. Think it’ll catch on?’
Blake smiled and slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor beside her.
‘Come here,’ he ordered and Carson immediately fell against his hard chest, surprised at how much she needed the contact. He put his arms around her and held tight, crushing her smaller body to his. His comforting presence halted the banging in her head and the fuzziness in her ears finally dissolved.
‘You take too many chances, Carson. A few more seconds and that desquamater would have peeled you like a banana.’
‘I haven’t met one yet that doesn’t like to talk before dinner.’
Blake laughed, but Carson could hear the strain in his voice when he spoke next.
‘I don’t know what to do with you,’ he said, as she slowly lifted her head, worried she’d see disappointment on his face, but instead was met with another emotion. One she tried her best to ignore whenever she was around him. Carson’s stomach tightened with awareness as Blake’s clear green eyes studied her face. His gaze flicked down to her lips and she felt her cheeks flame, not that he could tell as they were already burnt. He squeezed her one last time then got to his feet.
‘I need to call this in.’
Carson nodded and vaguely listened to him relay the details of a successful kill over his communication system, which was located within a strap on his wrist.
‘All set,’ Blake said. ‘The cleaners will be here within the hour. Where are the guy’s clothes?’
She pointed to the far side of the warehouse in reply, thankful that they were not covered in the same nasty, thick gloop that she was.
‘Will I find anything useful?’ he called out, as he crossed the large space.
‘Not really. Malcolm had a driver’s licence and some small change but no wallet or keys. Address on the licence indicates he lived local before…’
Her voice trailed off and she swallowed deeply,
Carson shuddered, not wanting to dwell on the techniques used to strip a human so the aliens could hide in plain sight. Instead, she focused on Blake as he used the tip of his boot to move the clothes apart as he searched for clues.
‘Carson?’
‘Yes.’
‘Just one more question.’
‘Sure.’
‘Why in the hell are there two piles of clothing?’
4
Blake battled to keep his anger in check. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to comfort Carson or throttle her. She watched him intently from across the warehouse whilst he double-checked both sets of clothing. Even sitting there, looking the picture of innocence, he sensed she was worried. She’d made no effort to stand up since he’d forced her to rest against the wall and he feared that was because she couldn’t move, not because she was comfortable. Her arms were red and inflamed, and her face was scraped and charred. She had to be in agony, but she didn’t complain. She never did.
Although she’d been with the Invasive Species Control Team longer than him, he’d joined at a senior level after being headhunted by someone higher up in the ranks than he had clearance to meet. Blake was technically her supervisor, but that didn’t mean she listened to him. She reminded him of a wild horse, one that blatantly refused to be tamed. He struggled with the intense feelings of protectiveness she brought out in him. Feelings that were definitely not the platonic kind. No one within the unit seemed to know for sure how she ended up as part of the elite assassination team whose job is was to eliminate the desquamaters and any other threats from the purported stealthy alien invasion.
Carson had no relationship with her only-living parent, no siblings, and no relationship history noted in her files, and Blake had spent plenty of time digging into her records over the last few months. He was good with computers and usually managed to crack any government cyber-security measures but even with his level of expertise, Carson Towers’ past remained sealed tight.