by Cindy Combs
Author's notes: This is the third story from the Roachia Universe. While the first half is concurrent in time with Before Dawn, it is still recommended to read Before Dawn first.
For all the Roachia fans out there - thanks for waiting! I had suspected that this story would be a long one and it didn't disappoint me. It is actually longer than Before Dawn, which had been my longest story to date. As with the other Roachia stories, characters from other shows will make an appearance, including MacGyver, Star Trek Voyager, and The Magnificent Seven. For all the Blair and Jim fans, please be patient. They will appear in the last half of the story, I just needed to get Jeff caught up with them.
As always, I have many people to thank: My Real Life friend and practically brother Joel, an engineer who, whenever I ask if something is possible, gives me his 'thoughtful' look and utters the truly insightful, 'Maybe'. His-off-the wall comments led to a few of the Roachian inventions. To Sealie, whose long discussion over Roachian biology and other deep science fiction topics has been greatly enjoyed and appreciated. To Shallan, my military advisor, for her helpful tips on sneaking into enemy territory and military etiquette. And to my dear friend Zadra, who always finds the plot holes. Of course, many thanks go to Wolfpup and Susan, who keep my grammar and puncuation honest.
And with this story, I send a heart-felt prayer to the students and their families who were effected by the Columbine tragedy. It brought home the unimaginable pain of a parent losing a child to violence.
Please send any comments to
Enjoy the ride.
Disclaimer: Most of characters are not mine. I'm borrowing them out of deep reverence, affection and respect. I will accept only personal fulfillment, and no monetary gain. If you do sue, you will not get much and I will send over my Black Lab mix, who will stare at you pathetically for hours and probably con you out of all your food.
Please do not reproduce, copy, or otherwise use any part of this story without permission from the author.
Rated PG-13, mostly for a little violence and language.
UNDER THE COVER OF DARKNESS
C.L. Combs
I had just talked with him the day before yesterday.
We talked about the ball game he had pitched.
I told him I was almost sorry the project was over. In spite of being two to four years younger than everyone else, I had made a lot of friends. It will be so much easier now to transfer to Glendale and finish up my engineering degree. He had laughed and said, 'I told you so'.
He had confided that after spending the summer working on the Franklyn Center's computers and interning at the Refugee Counseling Center, he had decided to go to grad school for psychology. He liked helping people and the need was so great. I had laughed and said, 'I told you so.'
Now, I don't even know if my brother will have a future.
Dad told me with certainty that Blair was alive. Before, I had always envied how Dad and Blair could sense each other and me at distances, while I had to physically touch them. Dad says my gift will grow as I get older, but for now I'm glad I can't. I could hear the strain in Dad's voice, so I know that things are not good with Blair. I'm not sure if I could handle it if that connection was suddenly broken. I'm not sure if Dad can, either.
I don't know what I'll do if Blair is gone forever. He's the one person who understands what it's like to be so far ahead in school. How hard it is with my shyness to make friends. How tough it is to follow in Dad's shoes.
It isn't fair. Blair has so much to live for, so much to give. He can't die, not now, not like this.
But since when is life fair?
- Excerpt from the journal of Samuel K. MacGregor, day after Sealand invasion
Lansbury, two days after Sealand invasion
The world around him didn't seem real. Colors were gray, sounds muted. It was more by habit and instinct that led Jeff MacGregor's feet from the train station to his home. With his thoughts and emotions in dark chaos, the outer world didn't have much meaning.
All the news had been grim since word of the invasion had reached him yesterday morning. Hopeless reports of new bombs and extremely high death tolls filled the media coverage. It seemed that everything and everyone around him kept trying to tell him that his eldest son was not coming home.
NO! Jeff's mind shied away from that thought. Blair was alive. Hurt and in danger, but Blair was alive. Not that anyone would have believed Jeff if he said that, of course. But then, Jeff had told few of his 'sixth sense' when it came to his sons. Most had noticed Jeff's natural compassion and understanding with people, a gift that had been passed down in differing degrees to his sons. But who would believe that Jeff had a sense of his sons at any given moment, even with one away at Glendale and the other in Sealand? It was a gift that was unheard of now, as mystic and legendary as the guides who once led sentinels. It was an ancient ability that ran in his blood as it had once ran in his ancestors'.
Jeff rubbed his face as he waited for a street light to turn. Just as the bond told him that Blair was alive, it also told him he was hurt, confused, and terrified. It tore into his soul, knowing that his son needed help but not being there to give it. He had to reach him, had to rescue him. He had to go to Sealand.
Of course, no one would understand that and many would try to stop him. The exception would be Sam, who would probably try to go with his father if he knew. Jeff crossed the street, mentally running through his plans. He would leave a message for Sam, pack up a few supplies, then start his mission this evening. No one had to know what he was doing until he was gone. With luck, no one would miss him too much until he was on his way back with Blair.
With this purpose in mind, Jeff entered his two story home. Walking towards the den, he was already thinking through the message he would leave for Sam, gently informing the teen of his intentions and warning him not to follow.
Abruptly, someone grabbed for his arm. Jeff instinctively jerked out of the hold, turning to see an unfamiliar man in his living room. Face full of menace, the larger man was again reaching for Jeff as he backed away. Forcing all other thoughts out of his mind, Jeff suddenly shoved an end table into the intruder's path. Spinning on his heel, he dashed towards the back door of the house. He had barely taken a couple of steps when he was thrown face-first into a wall. Though stunned, Jeff managed to latch onto the floor lamp next to him. He swung it behind him. As a cry rang out, he struggled to rise when another hand again shoved him into the wall. He tried to twist out of the grip as he felt the bite of a needle on his neck. Vision darkening, Jeff slipped to the floor.
The sun was just dipping below the horizon as a trim, dark skinned man walked from the Express station. Frank Colton shifted his light duffel over his shoulder as his steady pace carried him towards his friend's house. After finally receiving leave from his security position, he had made a beeline to Lansbury. He was needed here. Knowing Jeff, he'd either be in the depths of grief or planning his rescue attempt into Sealand. Frank would stand by him regardless.
He had been keeping an eye out for Jeff since they were kids. The memory of the newly orphaned eight-year-old sitting sadly on his grandfather's back porch was engraved on Frank's mind. Such quiet depression was unnatural to the Colton brothers peeking over the fence. It wasn't long before Frank and Jesse had coaxed the boy into a ball game. From that moment on, the sensitive and intelligent kid next door had quickly slipped into the Colton family as one of their own. Frank was just as protective of Jeff as he was of his two younger brothers. Yet the friendship was far from one-sided. Jeff had also been there for Frank, through school, promotions, the devastation of Harbor Bay, and the loss of Frank's wife. They ha
d been through a lot together.
Frank closed his eyes a moment, images of two teenagers jostling each other as they raced down a staircase flashing through his mind. He adored Jeff's sons. It hurt to think that the enthusiastic light known as Blair Sandburg MacGregor may have been extinguished. Taking a deep breath, Frank shook his head and continued walking. If it had, Jeff would know and Frank would grieve with him. If it hadn't, Frank would follow Jeff to where ever they needed to go to get the boy back.
He was almost to the house before spotting a vehicle in the driveway. Assuming that it was one of Jeff's colleagues visiting to offer condolences, Frank continued at his steady pace. Then he spotted two large men walking out of the house. Jeff was tied and slung limply over the first one's shoulder.
"HEY!" Frank shouted, racing up to the men. The second charged to meet him. Throwing punches, Frank struggled to escape the man and reach his friend, but the other was much larger and stronger. One clean blow sent Frank to the ground, grazing his head against the stone flower bed border. Stunned, Frank gazed at the men shoving Jeff into the back seat, then tossing the extra rope into the trunk. Yet they didn't push the lid down hard enough to lock it. With a final surge of energy, Frank managed to crawl to the vehicle's back bumper as the men climbed in the front. Desperation gave him the strength to climb into the trunk just before the vehicle pulled away. Once inside, the throbbing head finally overwhelmed him. Frank slumped to the floor unconscious.
In the growing darkness, the vehicle pulled into a hidden airstrip just outside the city. A large Roachian plane sat there, ominous in its sleek lines and cruel purpose. A ramp was extended out underneath. The vehicle chugged up the ramp, then within seconds withdrew inside. Soon the plane rolled down the hard dirt runway, lifting up into the air towards the lost zones.
First Blair, now Dad.
Uncle Pete says not to worry, they'll find Dad soon.
Grandma Tess says not to worry, Dad and Frank are both tough.
Well, excuse me, but I AM worried. Heck, I'm past worried, I'm scared to death. It is bad enough that Blair is still listed as missing. Now Dad has disappeared from the Lansbury house. One is bad enough. I don't think I can handle both. To add Uncle Frank on top of that is just too much to even contemplate right now.
Thankfully, the project is almost over now. I feel like I'm in a daze, finishing up the reports. I just hope they make sense. I'm not sure if anything makes sense anymore.
But what do I do once the project is done? I'm not sure if I can handle going back to Lansbury without Blair or Dad. It isn't home without them. No place is home without them. I feel numb. I feel adrift.
One step at a time. I have to take one step at a time.
- Excerpt from the journal of Samuel K. MacGregor
Mound compound in lost zone, formerly known as Leesborough, two days later
Landing hard on the wood floor, Jeff curled up in a protective gesture. He tried to breathe through the pain as the world spun crazily around him. Everything hurt after endless hours of interrogation and beatings. Jeff wasn't sure how long it had been, but he knew he hadn't given them the information they wanted. There was no way he was going to give them the science plans. Whenever he felt himself weakening, he'd picture Sam's face. He would not destroy his son's best chance for a future.
"RISE!" Jeff forced his eyes open enough to squint at the speaker. The metallic tones of the translator was grating on his nerves. When he was hit on opposite sides by the guards' hard, thick tails, he managed to pull himself onto his knees. There was no way he could stand.
"Enough slowness! Tell us ~pop~ information!"
"No," Jeff managed to croak, staring defiantly back at the Speaker. The Roachian was taller and more purplish in color than the drones that had been dragging him around. Squinting hard, Jeff could make out the wings neatly folded on its back. The analytical portion of his brain hazily noted that it must be a Chosen One, picked to mate with the Queen and her court. Boy, do I rank or what?
"What ~snap~ we let ~pop~ son of MacGregor ~crackle~ Sealand live?"
Jeff swallowed hard. Hope rose for a moment, then reason deflated it. He had lost his mental link with Blair after he had woken up from his abduction. As hard as it was, he knew he had to face up to what it meant. Grief added a rough edge to his voice as he shouted, "Then show him to me!" He stared directly into the compound eyes, hoping the multiple images of himself was giving the bastard a headache. Time seemed to stand still as he pitted his stubbornness against the alien's strong will.
In spite of the odds, it was the alien who finally looked away. "~pop~ you allow no ~snap~ choice. You will be given ~crackle~ drugs!"
Jeff did not break his stare, though his stomach dropped to his knees. The drones grabbed him under the shoulders and dragged him away.
Outside the mound a mile away
Frank's eyes blinked open, staring at the ceiling above him. Sluggishly, he searched his memory, trying to place himself. Finally, he gave up and decided to try changing the view. Pain flashed through his head. Closing his eyes, he waited until he could think again. Then he tried to figure out what had happened.
He had reached the point where he had climbed into the trunk of the vehicle when he heard someone enter the room. Cautiously, he opened his eyes again. While he wasn't sure what he was expecting, it certainly wasn't a teenage girl. The young woman sat a tray and a small lantern on the low table. Her brown braid swung down to middle of her back. When she turned around, Frank was struck by the mix of innocence and sorrow on her freckled face.
"Hi there," the young woman softly greeted as she noticed his eyes were opened. "How're you feeling today?"
Frank tried to sit up, only to fall back down and grunt with pain.
"Easy there," she cautioned as she jumped to help him sit up again. "You have to be cautious with that head of yours."
"Do I know you?" Frank croaked as he leaned his aching head against the headboard.
"Well, you probably don't remember me," she replied, picking up a glass and pouring some water into it. "My boyfriend and I found you when we were searching for spare parts in the old airport hanger. You were pretty much out of it at the time. Preacher helped us get you out of there before the Roaches found you." She brought the glass over and held it so he could drink.
As he drank, vague images of the young girl and a teenage boy with straight dark hair flashed through his mind. "Where was I? Did you see anyone else?"
"No, just you, and we didn't see you at first. You were in the trunk of a human vehicle. We were kind of surprised to see it there, since most of the human equipment was shoved into the corners, probably to make room for all the Roaches' stuff. JD, my boyfriend, he wanted to see if there was any blankets or parts or rope or such that we could use, so he jimmied the trunk open. At first, we thought you were dead, but then I noticed you were breathing. So we got you out of the trunk and managed to drag you to a corner. We knew we couldn't get you out of there by ourselves, so I ran to get Preacher while JD hid with you. Do you think you could handle some broth?"
Frank wasn't sure whether his head was swimming due to the blow or to the girl's rapid words. Suddenly realizing that she had asked a question, he cautiously nodded his head. As she turned back to the tray, he questioned, "Who's Preacher?"
"Rev. Josiah. He used to be the preacher in our town. Huge guy, really smart, but as gentle as they come." She carried a mug to the bed then helped Frank wrap his hands around it. "Except when it comes to the Roaches. If it hadn't been for him, JD and I would have been killed when the Roaches found our hiding spot." Painful memories darkened the pretty face. "The Roaches just came in so fast after the bombing, there just wasn't time to get away."
To turn her thoughts away from the past, Frank asked, "Where are we now?"
"In an old inn about a mile away from Delroy. We've been hiding here while Josiah and JD repair an off-road vehicle. Then we're going to try to get back to a safe zone."
Sipping the broth
and hoping it would stay down, Frank was pondering his location. "You mean, I'm all the way to Leesborough?"
The girl looked at him, puzzled. "Yeah. Where were you before?"
"Lansbury."
"Lansbury?" the girl repeated, eyes wide. "That's way up North. Surely the Roaches haven't made it that far yet!" At Frank's cautious head shake, the girl relaxed. "Then why were they there?"
Frank closed his eyes and rubbed his head. "Two men abducted my friend. I managed to crawl into their vehicle just before it took off." He lifted his head to meet the young woman's gaze. "Are you sure you didn't see anyone else by the vehicle?"
Sadly, the young woman shook her head. "We only found you."
"Damn, why would they take him to the Roaches?" Frank growled, then dropped his aching head back into his hands. His worry for Jeff was multiplying along with his headache.
The young face frowned a moment in thought. "I wonder if they were some of those human-looking Roaches."
"Huh?"
"Yeah, one day JD came across this guy he thought was another survivor like us. Only when he turned, the guy tried to kill him. When I saw what was happening, I shot him with my rifle. Only the guy bled orange instead of red. Josiah said the Roaches' blood is orange, so somehow they've got Roaches that look like humans."
Frank tried to wrap his mind around the thought that Roaches could look like humans, but it only made his head pound harder. He could feel himself beginning to drift.
"I think you've had enough," the girl observed as she caught the mug before it could slip through his hands. "Why don't you go to sleep? Preacher said sleep was the best thing for you."
"I need to find Jeff," Frank protested softly, unable to keep his eyes open.
"You need to get your strength back first," she pointed out.
Frank realized that he didn't have the energy to argue. Hazily, he looked at the young woman helping him. "What's your name?"