Critical Dawn

by Darren Wearmouth

  The building vibrated after a thumping boom. Smoke gushed into the room, leaving a sour taste at the back of Layla’s throat.

  Silence followed.

  She climbed over the barricade and approached Gregor. He sat up and dusted himself down. Layla went to touch his wound. He jerked his head away.

  “Are you okay?” Layla said.

  “Fine. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “What happened?” Ben said. “Did you get them?”

  “Shot them both. The front one had a grenade ready to go.”

  Layla squinted. The smoke stung her eyes. She pulled her sweater over her nose and mouth and followed Gregor downstairs.

  Near the bottom, she stepped over the twisted figures of two dead croatoans into a room bathed in light. The entrance door had been blown off its hinges. A body lay underneath.

  Gregor grasped Layla by the shoulder. “Don’t look to your left. You don’t need to see this.”

  She focused outside. Gregor pointed his rifle upwards and dashed out, turning amongst the weeds, looking up through his sights. Ben joined him and searched the sky.

  Layla tentatively joined them. There was no sign of the previously circling croatoan. She approached the alien by the overturned bike. Its weapon lay a few feet away in the knee-length grass.

  She picked it up, pointed it toward the forest, and pulled the trigger. It easily depressed like she was squeezing a tube of toothpaste. The alien rifle kicked against her chest as a projectile whistled out and thumped against a tree.

  Gregor ducked. “Be careful with that.”

  “I’m not going through another situation unarmed,” Layla said.

  He appreciatively grunted and started heading for the forest.

  “Where are we going?” Ben said.

  “Away from here. Who knows what might turn up next? I’m not waiting to find out,” Gregor said.

  “We could take the hover-bikes,” Ben said, gesturing to the three parked by the forest’s edge.

  Gregor spun and grabbed Ben by the scruff of his neck. “Do you want to end up like Marek? Do you?”

  He pushed Ben away. Ben stumbled after him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … I just …”

  For the next hour, they picked their way through dense, slimy undergrowth. Gregor probably chose the route to provide cover. Layla breathed hard, swiping away branches and kicking away weeds that knotted around her feet.

  They eventually hit a former road. Gregor leaned against a rusting SUV and wiped sweat from his brow. He gazed into the distant sky at the thin outline of the mother ship. This was probably the first time he had to stop and think about Marek. Layla decided to leave him to his own thoughts.

  She shuddered at the thought of a new alien hulk in the sky. An instrument of death that would shortly bring about their demise. They had to do something.

  Ben stretched out on a rock twenty yards away. Layla went over to him. “Are you okay?”

  “A few scratches, nothing major.”

  “Do you have any idea where Jackson went? Think. We need to put our differences aside. Fight this thing together.”

  He shrugged. “Charlie and Gregor? You’re joking, right?”

  “I’m being serious. Unless we come up with something soon, well, you know what’ll happen.” Ben flashed a glance at Gregor, who still stared into the clear blue sky. He sheepishly looked back at Layla. She lowered her voice, “If you know something, now is the time to say.”

  “Charlie’s got a plan. I don’t know what exactly, but he’s been working on it for some time. I know where he’ll be,” Ben trailed off.

  She resisted the strong urge to punch him in the face. “I swear, if you don’t start talking—”

  Ben failed to spot Gregor moving around behind him. He wrapped his arm under Ben’s chin and squeezed tightly.

  “I’m giving you a minute before I snap your neck,” Gregor said.

  Ben’s face reddened. He gasped. “I’ll tell you. Please. Let go.”

  Gregor loosened his grip and grabbed the back of Ben’s hair. Layla leaned toward him. “This is no time for games. Where will he be?”

  “Ridgway. The clock tower. Noon tomorrow. I’m supposed to meet him. Give him information about the shuttle runs.”

  “Did he say why?” Layla said.

  “That’s all I know. I wasn’t going to meet him. I’m with you guys. Honestly.”

  Gregor released his hold and slapped the palm of his hand against the side of Ben’s head. “You treacherous little shit.”

  “What are you going to do?” Layla asked Gregor.

  He threw Ben to one side. “What do you think I’m going to do? Tomorrow, I’ll be in Ridgway, waiting for Jackson to show his face.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Charlie wiped the debris from his face. His ears were still ringing from the grenade explosion. Using the cloud of smoke and concrete to hide their position, they’d managed to outmaneuver the hunter, using Charlie’s knowledge of the alleys and side streets to get some distance and return to Quaternary HQ.

  “What about Denver?” Maria asked as they cleared the sheet metal out of the way and headed into the basement.

  “He’ll be okay.” Charlie locked the door behind him and took a breath. Even though the root kept him fit and strong, his age meant that he still felt the fatigue once the adrenaline and the root’s effect wore off. “Come on, we need to go up a few levels.”

  Before they entered the basement area, Charlie stopped at a small room previously used by janitors. Mike had converted it to a gun rack. Charlie took a Barrett .50 caliber rifle. If anything would stop that damned croatoan bastard, it’d be that.

  Taking the stairs two at a time and wincing with the effort, Charlie led Maria into the third floor, where his old office used to be. His, Mike’s, and of course Pippa’s. It was like a mausoleum.

  Desks and computers were still in the same place since the day he’d left it. Papers and books littered the floor, disturbed by the vibrations of war. He made to reach up to the bead necklace and remembered he’d given it to Ben.

  It didn’t matter. Pippa’s face was still clear in his mind. She smiled at him with that quirky look of hers. He pictured her bouncing into the office, dirt smudged on her face as she excitedly talked about their next project or some surprising find.

  “Are you okay?” Maria said, touching his arm.

  “What? Yes, sorry, I just … It doesn’t matter. Okay, stand back from the window, but from somewhere you can use this to spot for me.” He handed her the monocular sight.

  “What is it you want me to do exactly?” Maria asked.

  Charlie opened the boarded-up window and balanced the Barrett’s barrel across the sill. He rested the rest of the gun on the edge of a desk that he pulled closer.

  “That bastard alien is going to have to approach from that street down there. Everywhere else is too dilapidated. It’ll know we had to come this way too. I want you to be a second of pair of eyes to help me focus on it.”

  “Okay,” Maria said, pulling a wheeled office chair closer so that she could rest and still get a good view out of the window.

  Charlie got himself comfortable, brought the scope to his eye, and checked his distances. All seemed good. He just had to wait. Even if the hunter came at them from the shadows, there was still a ten-foot section of open space it’d have to cross. Hopefully, they’d spot it before it got to that section and gave him time to aim.

  They sat in silence for five minutes. Sweat beaded on Charlie’s forehead. He knew Denver would have the part by now and be on his way back. As though he had conjured him with his very mind, Maria excitedly said, “Den’s there, look.”

  With an alien weapon in his hands, he came out of a side street, looking to either side, always on alert. “You keep watching him,” Charlie said, not loving this at all.

  His fears were born of good instinct. As Denver stepped further out into the open, forty feet behind him the shadows shifted, and the
hunter slid out of his position. The bastard was probably there the whole time. Charlie couldn’t quite get a good aim on him. A fallen wall obscured his vision, but he could see the shadows moving now that the noon sun had dipped lower to the west, lengthening the shadows across the sidewalk.

  “Oh God, he’s going to see him,” Maria said, tracking Denver’s movements.

  “Just wait,” Charlie said.

  “We have to warn him.” She placed the monocular down on the desk and approached the window. Charlie pushed her out of the way and took the Barrett to the next window across to get a better angle. That did the trick. He could see the hunter edge out from behind a half-yard-thick fallen wall.

  Maria moaned as she got to her feet. “What the hell do you think you’re—”

  “Shut up,” Charlie said, glaring at her. She took a step back but kept her eyes on Denver as he came further down the street.

  On its knees, the alien raised the rifle and brought its scope to its eye. The glow of the screen illuminated its transparent visor, revealing the tough, leathery skin of its face and a glowing amber eye. This was definitely not a run-of-the-mill croatoan. But even with its fancy tech, Charlie doubted it could withstand a .50 cal round.

  “Denver, run!” Maria said from the window, shouting at the top of her voice. Den looked up then behind him and dashed to the side. Charlie was about to yell at her, but when he looked back, the alien had come further out of the shadows. It had heard Maria. It pointed the rifle up at Charlie. They locked eyes, and Charlie pulled the trigger before launching himself to the side.

  Both rifles exploded. The alien’s shot rocked the walls of the Quaternary building. A chunk of masonry flew away from the window frame, narrowly missing Charlie’s face.

  “You’ve hit him,” Maria said, now standing further back but still watching through the monocular sight.

  Charlie took a risk and lifted his rifle to peer through the scope. He saw the hunter crawl away, clutching its right leg. He was surprised that the leg wasn’t severed, but the alien armor was damaged, and its suit took on a lighter color. Yellow blood stained the ground.

  “It’s wounded,” Charlie said. “But I don’t know how long we’ll have. We need to leave. Now.”

  He grabbed the rifle and Maria’s arm and headed back down the stairs.

  Mike and Mai pulled Denver into the basement and locked the door behind him. They all rushed into the workshop area. Breathless, with sweat pouring from him, Denver shrugged off his backpack. They all looked at him expectantly.

  “Well?” Charlie said, “Did you get it?”

  “What do you think, old man?” Den said between panted breaths. Pip joined him by his side. He knelt down and made a fuss of the dog. “I ain’t just a pretty face, am I, girl?”

  “No,” Maria said, before realizing he was talking to the dog. She turned away to hide her embarrassment.

  “Oh,” Mai said, lifting out a disc-shaped object from Den’s pack. “What’s this? Looks alien, of course.”

  “Bomb,” Denver said. “I used it to take out the anti-grav engine of that bastard’s ship. You just press …” Denver reached out and grabbed Mai’s wrist to stop her from touching the small screen. “Jesus, Mai. That’s what activates it.”

  Mike lifted the second one. “I’ll have to make some safeties for you. Wouldn’t want it going off by mistake. But as nice as these are, what about the magnet?”

  Denver fished out a box with a Ford label stamped on it and handed it over. “These?”

  “Holy crap, Den, there’s half a dozen here.”

  “I think there might be more there,” Den said. “I saw boxes everywhere and grabbed the first one I saw. I wanted to get back before … Well, before we all got killed by that thing out there.”

  “What is it?” Mai asked. “A soldier?”

  “Worse,” Charlie said. “I don’t know what it is. One of the croatoans’ experiments perhaps, some other alien imported from God knows where. But it took a .50 cal to the leg and was still alive, still moving. We’ve got to clear out right now before the bastard tracks the way in.”

  “On it,” Mike said, heading to one of his over-filled desks. Mai joined him. Together, they opened the case of the bomb and started to install the part.

  Maria sat down on a plastic chair and wiped tears from her eyes. “I can’t believe what happened to Ethan. One minute he was right there by me, the next …”

  Denver knelt down by her, held her hands within his. “I know it’s hard,” he said. “It’s a shock. It’s difficult and brutal, and it hurts. But right now, we have to remember him and everyone else that died at the aliens’ hands. We have to remember them and go on because what we intend to do will honor them. We can’t lose focus on that. We can grieve later. Take the pain, but don’t let it consume you, okay? You’re with us; you’re one of us. We’ll stick together.”

  Maria looked down at Denver, her face blemished with dirt, the tears tracking the stains down her cheeks. “You were so brave,” she said, “to go off like that. How can I be that brave? I’m so scared. It feels like danger waits in every shadow. I’m not sure I can go on.”

  “It’s understandable,” Denver said. “This is all new to you, but believe me, as dangerous as this seems, it’s like a vacation to how it was. We have to put all this into perspective and carry on. If not, then what else is there?”

  “Waiting to die,” Maria said.

  “And I’m not one for waiting,” Denver said, flashing her a smile. “So what say you come with us and let be what will be? Let’s do this, bring down that mother ship, strike back at these bastards, and show them that they’ve underestimated us.”

  Maria wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. “I guess we have no real option. Count me in.”

  She stood and hugged Denver.

  Charlie smiled and turned away to prepare their exit. On the other side of the basement was a fire exit that led across the street. Mike and a few others who had sadly passed on had dug a tunnel further through until they came out into the subway system. Although flooded, the water level wasn’t so high that they couldn’t get an inflatable raft in there.

  In emergencies, they’d used it a few times before. If they followed the right route, they could get through enough of the train system to get clear of Manhattan. They kept a smaller raft stored in the basement. The other dinghy was too large.

  Now their load was lighter, they could squeeze onto the raft and get out. It’d be tight, but it was better than risking going over ground. All the shooting would have stirred up other survivors lurking in the city.

  “Hey, Chuck, it’s ready,” Mike said, calling out from the other end of the tunnel.

  Charlie walked back to find them standing around the device. Mai had a satisfied look on her face. “Your boy done good,” she said, winking at Denver. “It works perfectly. But here’s the thing. You’ll have one shot at this. Once activated by using the touchscreen here, there’s no going back. If it malfunctions for whatever reason, the regulating magnet will be fried, and no offense, you won’t have the expertise to wire in another in time and figure out what’s wrong.”

  “Understood,” Charlie said.

  Denver’s forehead wrinkled. “It doesn’t sound very … solid. I mean, it’s a huge risk going up there. If it doesn’t go off, it’ll be for nothing.”

  “That’s my worry, son. We’ve talked about this already. It’s my time. I’m going up there. I trust that it’ll work. You’ll just have to trust me.”

  “Wait,” Maria said. “So what you’re saying is this is a complete suicide mission? There’s absolutely no way you’re coming back if it works or not?”

  “We all have to make a sacrifice,” Charlie said, “and this is mine. Okay, that’s enough of the philosophy. Let’s have less chat and more action. Mike, prep the bomb and make it safe for travel. We’ve got to go. I suggest you get Mai out of here too.”

  “Will do, Chuck,” Mike said. “And don’t worry about us
. We’ve got transport waiting for us.”

  Mike placed the bomb inside a plastic flight case and made sure it was clipped tightly shut. He handed it to Charlie with his left hand and extended his right. Charlie took it and shook it firmly. “I’ll miss you, you crazy old bastard,” Charlie said, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

  “And you too, you reckless fool. One of these days, you’ll get yourself killed.”

  “One of these days. But not today.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Augustus pulled the cannula from his body after the last of the root compound had flowed into his bloodstream. With a sigh of satisfaction, he sat back on his human-leather recliner.

  The cool, white-blue lights of the mother ship made his skin look pale and diseased, but he knew he was never in better health. Every nerve tingled and every hair stood on end as the root compound did its magic in repairing any aging cells.

  He took this shot a few days early, having caught a bug from one of the cattle-scum down on the surface. Probably from Gregor, he thought. That reckless fool mixed with people without any concern for his health. Gregor was a walking, talking disease factory. Like they all were.

  After all this time, human beings were still barely better than pigs and cows. Even the livestock had the same herding instinct as cows. Still, they made for a good, nutritious food supply while the root took hold. And for now, the second crop appeared to be perfect. More perfect than many of the planets the croatoans had terraformed.

  Though he had been in and out of stasis since his last day as Roman Emperor Valens, he wasn’t one to dwell much on the past. Especially given it was so long ago. But stasis within a croatoan pod had the effect of compressing time. That fateful day during the Battle of Adrianople, the ninth of August, 378 AD, was still clear. The Goths, led by the maggot, Fritigern, defeated his Roman army and set about the destruction of the Roman Empire as it was known. He, Emperor Valens, removed his habit and disappeared into a village, escaping as nothing more than a battle-wounded peasant.