Critical Dawn

by Darren Wearmouth

  “I’ll grab a bite to eat,” Vlad said and moved out of view of the monitors. He raised his eyebrows and repeatedly circled his ear with his finger before walking away.

  “You wanted to see me, Mr. Augustus?” Layla said.

  “Where were you at three o’clock this morning?”

  Layla felt her stomach knot. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a straightforward question.”

  “I was sleeping. Why do you ask?”

  She clenched her hands tightly underneath the desk.

  “We had a security breach. Somebody, a human, came in here last night and looked through secure croatoan data.”

  “It wasn’t me. Have you checked with the others?”

  The only person who saw Layla last night was Igor. If he was in Augustus’s pocket, he’d probably spill the beans. Another reason for her to run. Her only option left.

  “We’re carrying out some print analysis on one of the devices. You’ll all be required here tonight. The guilty party will receive swift justice.”

  Layla would be gone by then. She wasn’t hanging around for Augustus to pass his sentence. “What’s so important about the data?”

  Augustus tutted. “It’s the principle. We still need farm workers, especially for the breeding lab. If somebody doesn’t want to play the game, I’ll be the one to blow the final whistle.”

  “No problem, Mr. Augustus. See you back here tonight.”

  He waved his bony finger. “I haven’t finished yet. There’s some news you need to be aware of. Gregor’s gone.”

  She leaned back on the stool. “Gone?”

  “As we speak, he’s having his employment terminated. I need you to step up. Are you with me?”

  “He’s being terminated?”

  “Why do you insist on repeating me? The details are a trivial technicality, none of your concern. I’ll assume that you are still part of our team. Which reminds me, is Igor around? I need to speak with him.”

  Layla’s mouth felt dry. She gulped. “He left this morning. Haven’t seen him since.”

  “Send him here as soon as you do. I can’t get in touch.”

  “Is that it, Mr. Augustus?”

  “For now.”

  The screen flashed back to monitoring the two most northern harvesters. Little red trails across the map, expanding the root coverage. All critical measurements showing green.

  They’d murdered Gregor.

  Augustus had all but confirmed Igor was in cahoots with him. Igor knew about her clandestine trip to the chocolate factory. It was only a matter of time. Layla focused on short-term survival. There was nothing for it but to grab some personal items from her trailer and get as far away as possible.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Mike was still smiling at Charlie when he handed him a chipped mug of steaming tea. Charlie took a deep swig and enjoyed the burning sensation. They sat around a dirty desk only slightly less cramped with stuff than Mike’s former desk above them in the Quaternary building.

  “Since the invasion,” Charlie said to the others as they sat around the table, “Mike’s been in his element. Look at this place. It’s a tinker’s paradise. Every imaginable device is here, though most are in various stages of actual usefulness.”

  Ethan had taken to Mike right away as Charlie’s old colleague gave the kid the tour. When they came back, it was obvious where Ethan’s future would lie. Right here with Mike building weapons and devices.

  There was one problem however. Mai—Mike’s kinda-wife and fellow engineer. They’d set up a cozy existence together. Mai, a Chinese-American nuclear physicist, was one of the survivors within their cavern during the ice age. She and Mike had hit it off right away.

  “So,” Charlie said, placing the mug on the table. “Now we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, what’s the status on the device?”

  Mai entered the screened-off area carrying a silver Samsonite case. She cleared a space on the table and laid it flat, opening the lid and displaying for all to see the device that they’d been working on for the last five years.

  It was all Mike’s idea. And it’d taken Charlie those five years to source the parts needed.

  Maria looked over Charlie’s shoulder and Ethan over Mike’s. Denver was paying no attention, preferring to make a fuss of Pip, making sure she didn’t go sniffing into something dangerous. There was no telling what Mike and Mai had stashed around.

  “What is it?” Maria said.

  The device was the size of a laptop and was in fact built on the chassis of an old Lenovo Thinkpad. They were built with longevity in mind, and they’d certainly achieved that. In the early days of the design, Mike ironically wanted to use an Alienware machine.

  “It’s a bomb,” Mai said, her accent now completely neutral. In the early days, she still had a lilt of Chinese to her, but with all the time spent with Mike, she’d come to sound just like him.

  “Well, not exactly a traditional bomb,” Mike added with a smile. He pulled his long gray hair back, revealing a thinning pate. Not surprising considering his age. He was in his late seventies, but like Charlie, regular imbibing of the root kept him young and able.

  At least that was one thing to thank the alien bastards for.

  “So, what does it do if it’s not really a bomb?” Ethan said, leaning in further for a closer look.

  Where the laptop screen used to be was now a rounded, metal shell. The track pad had been swapped out for a small OLED screen from a smartphone. The thing looked like a designer ‘70s toaster with some modern tech cobbled onto it, but beneath that shell was one of the most potent weapons ever devised, assuming it’d work.

  “Well,” Mike said, putting his arm around Ethan’s shoulder. “What do you know of EMP devices?”

  “Erm, nothing? Yet.”

  Mike smiled, seeming to like the kid. “It stands for ElectroMagnetic Pulse.”

  “Or Extreme Magnetic Pain,” Mai said with a wicked grin. Her leathery face and its many folds hid her intelligent eyes. She was younger than Mike by twenty years, but they could well have been twins on personality. Both wore wacky sweaters, and both had a brain that Charlie could only wish he had.

  “So what does it do?” Maria said. “And how will this save us all as Charlie said?”

  “It’ll tear the aliens a new asshole and send them packing back to the ass-end of the galaxy,” Mike said. “Once detonated, those turtle-looking fuckers won’t know what hit ‘em. Inside this unassuming shell is a nuclear bomb that makes Hiroshima look like a bee-sting. When it goes, it won’t just blow anything up, it’ll destroy anything electrical for hundreds and thousands of miles around.”

  Maria seemed to understand as she turned to Charlie. “So for this to be effective, it’ll need to be set off within the croatoan ship? That means someone has to—”

  Charlie stopped her with a hand, “We’ll come to that later. Mike, what’s the situation; it’s not ready to go, is it? And I can tell something’s up.”

  “No,” Mike said. “We need one more part.”

  Mai leaned against the table, regarding Charlie with her wise eyes. “Someone will need to make a trip to the Ford warehouse north of here. There’s a special kind of magnet they used in their last models. It’ll help regulate and deliver the pulse. We found an old one, but it wasn’t efficient enough. We need a new, unused one from the parts warehouse—if there’s any there of course.”

  “Fuck it,” Charlie said, turning his back. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be an ass, I just thought …” He took a deep breath as Denver entered the room and stood in front of him.

  “It’s not a problem, Dad. We’ll go get it. It’s only an hour’s walk. We’ll get the part and be out of here. The plan can still go ahead.”

  “You’re right, son. I just wanted … I’m just getting impatient in my old age.”

  “Here,” Mike said, handing Charlie a small black disc the size of an old dollar coin. “That’s the burnt-out one we found. We need something lik
e that; two, if you can find them, would be even better. Always good to have a backup.”

  “You got it. We’ll go now. Quicker we get it, the quicker we can carry out the rest of the plan,” Charlie said. “How long will it take you to fit?”

  “A few minutes,” Mai said.

  “Come on, son, let’s go for a midday stroll into town.”

  “We’re coming with you,” Maria said. “If it’s this important, we can be of help. Be spotters or something, some extra backup.”

  “No,” Charlie said. “It’s too dangerous. Anything and anyone can be out there. They’re not all gonna be like the last lot. The city dwellers are more hardcore. We need to move quickly and without fuss. It’s better if it’s just Den and me.”

  “Fuck that,” Ethan said, surprising everyone. He slapped his hand on the table. “We’ve been through all kinds of crap to get here. I appreciate you looking out for us, but Ben’s been sent off to who knows what fate, and now you want us to just sit back. What if you get into trouble and we’re just sitting around waiting for you? No, we’re going.”

  Mike grinned at Charlie as he patted the kid on the shoulder. “Looks like they’ve made their own minds up, Chuck. Let ‘em go with you. You can’t protect everyone. At some point, everyone has to call their own shots and stand on their own two feet.”

  “Exactly,” Maria said. “It’s our choice, not yours.”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Charlie turned his back and headed for the exit tunnel. “Grab your guns and follow me. On your own heads be it.”

  ***

  The midday sun was just passing noon, creating thin, stubby shadows on the broken sidewalks and roads where the blacktop had long splintered off to expose the concrete beneath.

  Few trees had managed to settle within the city, but there were still overgrown areas of bushes and shrubs, contrasting their natural hues with the monochromatic palette of human endeavor. Charlie and Denver stuck to the main streets where possible. If there were any survivors in the area, they’d likely be in the houses; many had set up homes there or in the low-rise apartment buildings, almost as if nothing had happened.

  There were some who still thought it meant something to live in Manhattan. But the place was a ghost town now with little to offer anyone apart from the most basic of shelters. Unlike Mike and Mai’s basement that had power from the building’s rebuilt diesel generators, almost none of the makeshift domiciles had any power. Years before, Charlie had been part of a fuel group whose task was to extract fuel from other generators, cars, and trucks.

  The yield was low, but given the sheer number of sources, they’d managed to gather enough to keep the Quaternary basement running with power for decades to come. Most of that was due to Mai’s genius in mixing the diesel generators with solar and wind power.

  They’d made their way about halfway to the warehouse, weaving in and out of streets, making sure they were covered at all times by shadows or dilapidated buildings. Denver, as ever, took point, using his scope to observe their intended route.

  Maria and Ethan took up the rear and watched the flanks.

  Charlie kept his attention on the sky. He didn’t want to worry the others, but ever since they’d arrived, he’d seen the shadow out of the corner of his eye and the glint of something in the clouds. It was flying in stealth mode now, but after hearing the roar earlier, he knew it was here.

  Which of course was one of the reasons he didn’t want the others to come with him, but like Mike said, they had to make the choice; he couldn’t protect them at all times.

  They crossed a street, rounding a pair of rusted limousines. Most of the road signs had lost all their lettering to the elements. Given the destruction, he couldn’t tell exactly where they were but knew they’d walked for thirty minutes, always heading north. The Ford warehouse wouldn’t be much further.

  As they turned left out of a tight avenue, they came to a wide road that led straight forward. Before Charlie could warn the others, having just seen the shadow the instant he walked out onto the road, an alien fighter craft—triangular, flat, and deadly black—landed at the end of the street no more than a hundred feet away.

  “Get into cover,” Charlie shouted as he dived behind a pile of rubble on the left side of the street. Denver joined him. Maria split to the right, and Ethan remained in the middle of the street looking confused, his attention on the alien craft.

  It looked nothing like the regular croatoan shuttles and was more advanced than the first fighters that had come down after the invasion. This was something new.

  A door opened. Blue light surrounded an alien creature with an almost neon glow. This was no ordinary alien. It was twice as tall as any croatoan soldier and featured a form-fitting, matte-black suit. Its head was flat and pointed, resembling the triangular hull of its craft.

  Before anyone had time to do anything, a blast of blue energy shot out down the road. Charlie screamed for Ethan to move, but the kid was too slow, too scared. The bolt of energy coalesced into what looked like ball lightning.

  It struck Ethan with a crackling explosion.

  The boy’s body seemed to be ripped apart at the cellular level as he screamed. A few seconds later, all that remained was a charred, black stain on the street’s surface. He’d been completely vaporized.

  Another bolt, smaller this time, fired down the street, crashing into the debris. Charlie and Denver jumped back just in time. The shot destroyed half of the concrete before it ran out of energy. The air crackled with electricity. Maria screamed from the other side.

  “Get down! Stay down,” Charlie screamed over to her. He pulled the pistol from his hip and aimed at the alien. It was on the move now, walking purposefully down the street, reaching behind its back.

  “Mother fucker,” Denver said as he raised his rifle, using a part of the partially melted rubble to steady his aim. He adjusted the scope and took a deep breath.

  Charlie fired off three controlled shots, aiming for the giant alien’s legs and torso. His aim was off. Something about the way the alien moved made it hard to focus. “Shoot the fucker,” Charlie said, urging his son.

  Denver obliged. The crack of the rifle echoed around the buildings. The shot was true, but the alien seemed to shift physically in a blur. Charlie fired off two more shots. They went right through the weird-phasing movement of the alien, striking the craft with a spark behind him.

  Maria, screaming, shot out from her position, lifting her shotgun.

  “No!” Charlie screamed. “Get back. Now.”

  It was too late.

  Maria stood in the street directly opposite the alien. Charlie could tell now with Maria as reference that the damned thing must be at least seven and a half feet tall. Its limbs were twice as thick and muscular as any soldier croatoan.

  When the phasing stopped, it came into full focus. The black, form-fitting armor seemed to harden. Maria fired off two shots. The buckshot bounced off its armor.

  It lifted the rifle-like weapon, its barrel square and at least a meter and a half long, and aimed it at Maria. Its long, talon-like fingers curled around a trigger.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Crashing through the ferns, Gregor led Marek and Ben along the riverbank. Speed was of the essence. They had to get to the bikes before any more patrols arrived. The aliens had clearly been ordered to kill them and leave them out in the forest.

  Ten years of loyal service down the drain.

  Gregor wanted Augustus’s mangled face under his boot.

  Igor had approached the shelter from the opposite direction. His croatoan rider wouldn’t be too far away but would wait until it received further orders.

  Gregor reached the bikes and rested on the closest one to the river. Marek and Ben stood in front of him, both with hands on their knees.

  “You’re serious about using these?” Marek said.

  “I’m not leaving Layla, Alex, and Vlad to the mercy of those bastards,” Gregor said. “Three of us, three of them. We
take the bikes.”

  Ben mopped sweat from his brow and looked over the controls. “They look familiar to what I used in the harvester. Have you ridden one before?”

  “It’s easy. We used to have a bike for our team,” Marek said. “Until Igor crashed it. After that, we had to request a ride. They’ve been pretty good about it up until now.”

  Gregor grunted. “Sit. I’ll show you.”

  Ben jumped on the bike and pointed down. “I know that button switches on the engine.”

  “That’s right,” Gregor said. He patted each part, explaining, “You push the handlebars forward to rise, back to lower. Twist the right handle to speed up, let go to slow down. The left to hover. Don’t turn them at the same time. Nice and easy.”

  “You do know left from right?” Marek said.

  Ben frowned. “Of course I do. What about landing?”

  “Twist the left and pull the handlebars back. Not too fast.”

  Croatoans loved tracking everything. The blue beads in humans, harvester locations, land conversion. Gregor rubbed his chin and looked at the bikes. He leaned over Ben’s controls and ripped the tablet from its fastening and passed it to Marek.

  “Good idea,” Marek said and unclipped the other two from the bikes. He spread the tablets around a bush a few yards apart.

  Ben’s engine hummed into life. “Where are we going first?”

  “Follow me,” Gregor said. “We’ll set down at the landing strip; it’s got partial cover. We’ll round up the others, deal with the threat, and get the hell out of here.”

  “To where?” Marek said.

  Gregor mounted his bike and slung the AR-15 over his shoulder. “I’ll think about it on the way. Maybe to a city. They tend to avoid those places.”