Warlord: A Post Apocalyptic Alien Invasion Thriller (The Crumbling Book 1)

by KJ Nelson

  “Leave them there,” Annabelle said motioning to an alcove off the side of the entryway. Cletus grabbed all of their shoes and carried them over to the alcove and placed them neatly on the floor. There were at least 30 other pairs there as well.

  “Right this way,” Annabelle’s smile was back. The yellow light from the candles flickered off her gleaming teeth. Cameron swallowed down her terror and moved forward with purpose. If she was going to her death, she would do it with confidence.

  Annabelle led the group through the entryway toward the rear of the house. The entire back wall was encompassed by windows. Through the glass, Cameron could see beyond the back porch the Ashley River sparkling in the Moonlight above the back wall of the compound.

  “Wait here,” Annabelle motioned for them to stop moving. Cletus grabbed the back of Cameron’s shirt and the group paused. Annabelle moved through another set of double doors onto the back porch.

  She walked over to the left side and out of Cameron’s view. Cameron worked to control her breathing while they waited. A few minutes later Annabelle came back and motioned for them to follow her outside.

  Cameron walked through the door first, followed by Drac then Stafford.

  Cameron saw the form of a man standing with his back to them. He seemed to be wearing loose-fitting clothes that billowed in the wind.

  They moved toward their doom.

  36

  Cameron took in everything she could of her surroundings. Continuing to look for any means of escape. To the left of the man was a veranda that looked big enough to hold 100 people. There were couches and a fire-pit. It was a place that looked ready for a party.

  Rodrick still had his back to them as they approached. He seemed to be looking up toward the sky. As Cameron looked past the past for the first time, she saw that he wasn’t looking toward the sky at all.

  His gaze was focused on a dark form beside the veranda. The tall structure blocked the light from the moon, so it wasn’t immediately clear what the dark shape was.

  Cameron continued to walk forward, all of her energy focused on the dark shape. It was tall, over 12 feet. It was in the shape of a lowercase ‘t”. Finally, after studying the structure for a long minute, Cameron realized what it was.

  The dark form was a wooden cross, and on the cross was the huge hairy body of a Squatch. Rodrick had captured one of the aliens. By the look of it, the creature was dead. Cameron’s fear grew to a new height. If Rodrick was capable of killing a Squatch, what chance did they have?

  Cameron turned to look at Drac wanting to see his reaction. She was expecting to see the same fear she felt, but his expression was filled with utter relief and also joy. His response confused her. What hope could he have in this situation?

  Rodrick began to turn and Drac’s face shifted again to one of impassivity. Cameron shifted her focus back to her enemy.

  The man standing before her only slightly matched the man she had met over a year and a half ago when he’d tried to wrest the co-op from her.

  Back then, he looked like all Freeriders. The sleeveless jean jacket, the upside-down American flag. The picture of gruffness was complete. Now, he looked like a wealthy businessman on vacation.

  His light blue seersucker shirt had the top two buttons undone. He was wearing khaki shorts and boat shoes. His air was that of a man who just got off the beach and was taking a nightly walk around his estate.

  The only thing that broke the illusion was his eyes. In them, Cameron saw the monster she knew him to be, peering back at her. The clothes were just an act. She didn’t know what their purpose was, but his eyes told the truth of the man.

  “I’ve so longed to see you again Cameron. What has it been, 19 months 4 days since we last met?” Rodrick smiled widely. He’d obviously been keeping track of how long it had been since Cameron had nearly killed him. Rodrick spoke without inflection, his voice was flat and melancholy.

  Cameron stayed quiet, not sure how to respond. His gaze unnerved her and she wanted to look away but knew better. Their staring match went on for several seconds. Rodrick smiled again and broke the contact shifting his gaze to Stafford and Drac.

  Cameron stared again at the large Squatch mounted on the cross. It looked to be made out of two telephone poles. The creature was tied to it. There was a large gaping hole in its midsection. A thick black liquid stained its side and dripped onto the ground.

  “I see you’ve noticed my artwork,” Rodrick said, turning his back on the group and taking in the gruesome sight. “It’s a recent addition, but a welcome one to be sure.”

  Rodrick turned back to them an unhinged grin on his face. His mad eyes danced in the moonlight, shifting to Cameron again.

  “There seems to be quite the story here to unravel,” Rodrick sighed, moving toward the veranda to their left. There was a well-stocked bar in the middle of the floor. Rodrick moved behind it and poured himself a drink. It was insane of him to drink alcohol when water was in short supply. Cameron guessed he had a stockpile somewhere for just himself.

  “Annabelle, please take these three to the cellar while we hear the story from Cletus and Benjamin.” Rodrick dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Cameron didn’t like the mention of a cellar, but hopefully, it would give them some much needed time to come up with some kind of plan.

  “Yes, Lord,” Annabelle said with a slight bow. Cameron frowned disgustedly. Rodrick made his followers call him lord? She didn’t know why she was surprised. It fit with the man’s nature.

  “We’ll talk very soon,” Rodrick waved his fingers at her as Cameron turned away, following Annabelle.

  She led the three of them toward the side of the house. There was a small walkway that led through several bushes. Halfway down the side of the house Annabelle stopped and pointed to a trap door with a large padlock on it.

  She tossed the key to Drac and he caught it with a snakelike motion.

  “Open it,” Annabelle said drawing a sleek black revolver from her pocket. Drac nodded and opened the cellar door.

  “Key,” Annabelle opened her palm to Drac. He dropped it, the bright silver glinting in the moonlight.

  “Down,” Annabelle pointed with the gun toward the bottom of the cellar. There were steep steps that looked to be made out of cobblestones. They were obviously as old as the house itself. Cameron heard a faint moaning coming from the cellar and had no desire to find out what the noise was.

  “Move, now,” Annabelle spoke just above a whisper, Drac went first followed by Stafford. Cameron went last and descended the steps into the darkness of the cellar.

  “Help me,” the almost inaudible cry came as she heard the door thunk shut overhead.

  37

  The cellar was completely pitch black. There was no light whatsoever. Cameron could hear movement all around her but had no frame of reference. The moaning continued from directly in front of her.

  “Try to find something that will burn,” Cameron spoke in a quiet voice not knowing who the other person in the room was.

  Cameron reached into the lining of her cargo pocket on her left leg and grabbed the sleeve of wet-start matches she kept there. In the world after the Crumbling, matches were a lifesaver and she always kept a pack in every piece of clothing she owned.

  “Here,” She heard Stafford’s deep voice say. Cameron struck the match and it burned bright for a brief moment then flickered out. The matches were old and very wet. She grabbed another and dropped it in her haste. The third time worked and she was able to get the match to burn for long enough to see a pile of old pine needles that Stafford had in his hands.

  Stafford bent down and made a pile out of the needles and Cameron bent beside him and dropped the match in the center.

  “We’ll need something that will burn slower than these,” Cameron said. Stafford already had a second handful of needles that he placed on the quickly burning first pile. The light from the small fire illuminated the room enough to give them the first glance of their surroundings. />
  On her left, Cameron saw a man laying on the floor. He was the source of the moaning and didn’t look like a threat. There was no one else in the room so Cameron relaxed slightly and started searching for a more sustainable source for their fire.

  “There,” Drac said, pointing to a long-abandoned fireplace. It looked like the cellar had been used as a distillery at some point. There were several broken barrels laying around the small room.

  It was a good thing there was an escape point for the smoke as it was already starting to fill the limited air supply. Stafford stood up and whacked his head on a beam that hung low in the middle of the room. He wobbled at the impact and ducked his head.

  “Grab the wood from those broken barrels,” his eyes scrunched in pain.

  Cameron did as requested and picked up the smallest pieces of the old barrel. She placed them in the fireplace and Stafford scooped up the last remnants of the burning pine needles with a flat piece of wood and brought them over to Cameron.

  A few minutes later they had a small fire going. Cameron refrained from making it too big since she didn’t want to alert Rodrick or his men that they had a source of light. Cameron knew part of the tactic of taking them there, was the disorientation at not being able to see.

  “Wha...who’s there?” The sound came from the huddled form at the back part of the cellar.

  “Garland?” Stafford asked, ducking and running over to the man. He picked him up and embraced him. Garland didn’t move at all. He seemed too weak to lift a single finger.

  “Stafford, my friend.” He said weakly. His breath rushed out in a wheeze after he spoke. It looked like he hadn’t been given anything to eat or drink in days. Cameron was shocked that he was even still alive.

  “Yes it’s me,” Stafford sat down and pulled Garland into a seated position beside him. Garland was too weak to sit up and slumped over into Stafford’s shoulder.

  “Have they given you any food or drink at all?” Stafford looked deeply concerned for his friend. The rage that was always slow to come, building to a crescendo in his eyes.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Drac said, coming over and standing next to Cameron. “We need to figure out a way to activate the OAF immediately.”

  Cameron stared at him, slowly taking in his words. Suddenly she understood the hope and excitement she saw in his face earlier when he’d seen the Squatch.

  “Isn’t it dead?” Stafford looked at Drac in suspicion.

  “The organic artificial flesh suit is able to repair itself” Drac motioned dismissively at Stafford’s question as if he didn’t have the patience to explain it to him. “You can kill its wearer, but as long as it is mostly intact it will heal itself over time.”

  Stafford’s eyes were huge. Cameron was elated. She’d seen first hand the amount of damage one of the Squatches was capable of. If she could get her hands on it and use it like the replicator, she could decimate the Freeriders.

  “How do we activate it?” Cameron smiled, her eyes filling with murderous delight.

  38

  “We will not be doing anything,” Drac shook his head at Cameron firmly.

  “Are we really going to keep playing this game?” She asked with a sigh. “What is this, the fourth time we’ve done this? You say I’m not going to tell you something. I say you have to because otherwise, we’ll die. Then you lament and tell me. Let’s just skip to the end.”

  Drac blinked slowly, not amused by her rant.

  “Okay, I’ll give you my well-reasoned plea then. Who do you think will have more access to the OAF?” Cameron needed him to get it quickly. She didn’t know how much time they had before Rodrick would send for them.

  “It’s me that he wants. He wants payback for me humiliating him when he tried to commandeer the co-op.”

  Drac made a pained expression knowing she was right. The years of prejudice against humans kept leading him into Cameron’s logical traps.

  “There are four input nodules on the back of the OAF’s neck, just above the entry port,” Drac spoke without preamble sharing the information while they still had time. “There are typically three input codes. The first is the individual user’s entry code. This instructs the suit that its main user is requesting access. The second is a sentry mode. This causes the OAF to operate without an operator inside. It has limited functionality, but it should be enough to free the OAF and get it on the ground.”

  “And the third?” Cameron asked, trying her best to remember all of the details. Every word was critically important.

  “The third input is the emergency removal procedure. This will open the entry port and allow you to remove Agbo’s body.” Drac’s face tightened as he mentioned Agbo.

  Cameron and Stafford both looked at Drac in shock at the name as well.

  “Wait, that’s Agbo?” Cameron had a strange sensation of regret that the man had died. He had been the savior of the co-op. Without his resources, Cameron would have been dead in the first year.

  “Yes, it is. I recognized his distinctive markings,” Drac seemed genuinely pained by the loss of one of his people.

  “Why didn’t he leave with the rest of the Squatches?” Stafford slid Garland off his shoulder. The man moaned again quietly.

  “He was fascinated with your people, he possibly wanted to try and learn more from you. I’m not sure.” The last three words were a lie. Cameron could tell he wasn’t being truthful. He was hiding something.

  She let it go and decided to figure out the mystery later if she was even alive to do so.

  “What are the codes?” Cameron needed them if they were going to have a shot at using the Squatch to save them.

  Over the next five minutes, Drac walked Cameron through the intricate codes required to turn on sentry mode as well as perform the emergency removal of Agbo’s body.

  Each code was over 20 digits in length and required a deep understanding of the input nodules. Fortunately, Agbo had taught her how to use them during their time together. It still took much longer than she was comfortable with to memorize the patterns.

  “No, you missed the third level press and hold following the two mid-level clicks,” Drac was getting frustrated at Cameron’s lack of memory.

  Finally, after fifteen tries, Cameron was able to repeat the steps back to Drac for both the sentry mode and the emergency removal procedure.

  “Now, again,” Drac said after her first successful recitation. As he spoke they heard the faint click of the lock on the cellar door open. They each grimaced. Knowing it was time for action.

  Annabelle peeked her head into the small room and frowned at the small fire glowing in the fireplace.

  “Well aren’t you an annoyingly creative lot.” Cameron could tell she wasn’t happy that they had been able to start a fire. Their entire plan was to have them off balance.

  “Warlord, come with me.” Annabelle curled a short finger at Cameron who didn’t move. “Do not make me come in there, I promise you will regret it.”

  Cameron calmed her breathing and repeated the memorized sequences in her mind over and over. She couldn’t let anything that happened cause her to forget.

  She climbed the stairs leading back into the moonlight. It had to be early morning by now. The sun would be rising in less than an hour.

  Cameron followed Annabelle back down the path leading toward Rodrick. Now came the tricky part. How would she distract him long enough to climb up the pole and activate the Squatch?

  The next several minutes were going to suck. Really bad.

  39

  Cameron continued repeating the sequence over and over in her head. It was the only thing she allowed herself to think about. She walked with intent ready to get the confrontation over with.

  As she approached the veranda she saw Rodrick was again standing before the Squatch looking up at it. Annabelle waited for Rodrick to notice their presence and didn’t interrupt his contemplation.

  “They really are beautiful creatures,” Rodrick spoke
as if to himself not acknowledging their presence in any way. “Too bad I won’t be able to kill any more of them.”

  Cameron tried to not think about what he was saying and focus on remembering and failed.

  “How did you kill it?” Cameron asked, genuinely curious.

  Rodrick turned with an ingratiating smile. His eyes still betrayed him, the madness shining through regardless of what the rest of his face was doing.

  “It took three .50 caliber bullets in the same spot to bring it down,” he again spoke without emotion. It was as if the last two years had completely robbed him of everything it meant to be human. Or, Cameron thought, he never had any humanity in him to start with.

  “Impressive, your work?” She wanted to know if he’d done it personally.

  “Of course,” he nodded, obviously proud of the accomplishment. “I tried everything else to take one down. All it did was cost me men and explosives. Then, two days ago my men report seeing one of the Squatches roaming around aimlessly. I had to take my one last shot, or three.”

  Cameron still wondered what Agbo was doing on the planet after the rest of the Neandratons had left.

  She let that thought fall away and repeated the sequence in her head again two more times.

  “And then you show up in my lap. I’m starting to think this is my lucky week,” Rodrick let out a throaty laugh that shocked Cameron back into the moment.

  “It’s going to take more than a lucky shot to kill me,” Cameron knew vibrato wasn’t going to work on Rodrick, but she didn’t care. She just needed to keep the conversation going long enough to find an angle.

  “Oh, I’m not going to kill you, sweetheart. No, no, no. I’m going to allow you to suffer,” the loud bark of laughter came again. It didn’t meet his eyes and he seemed more demented at that moment than any human she’d ever met.

  “Lovely,” she said, not caring about anything but her goal. She just needed to maneuver the man in the right direction. A thought came to her that might push him where she needed him to go.