Where had the survivors gone? He’d wanted to visit here first, assuming they’d all vacated, but needed to get into their headspace before tracking them down. He swallowed his emotions and turned the car around, feeling as though he had enough to work with. These innocent people worked relentlessly to create food for the Occupation, and one cruel decision had ended their lives.
A few glints of the sun peeked through the clouds, reflecting off something small and round to his right. He grinned when he saw it was a Seeker drone. Then he spotted a Tracker bashed to pieces. So they had fought back. At least a little. That made him want to help the survivors even more.
With purpose, Dex pressed his foot to the pedal, screeching from the site. There would be hundreds of facilities like this around the country, maybe thousands around the world, and it all sickened him. How could he return to Hansen and say he had ended their lives? How could he even pretend it was true?
He slowed before pulling to the side of the road, and he unfolded a paper map from the glovebox. He’d found it in the farmhouse, and he ran a finger along the trail, seeking a water source. And there it was, a small lake ten miles away. He was sure that was where they’d gone.
The paved road curved in the opposite direction he wanted to go after another half mile, moving toward an interstate, but Dex hugged the right side, dropping onto the rocky surface of the back way. He slowed, the trip taking longer than he expected, and twice he needed to turn around because the roads were in too rough a shape. Once, he encountered a massive oak tree lying over the road, and there was no moving that by himself.
Eventually, as the sun hung high in the sky, he neared the lake, and he stopped along the treeline, opting for some reconnaissance before barging in like a mad man. These people were going to be scared, and their fear would make them desperate. From his experience, desperation made people dangerous.
Dex checked his Glock, grabbed his binoculars, and scooted out of the car, shutting the door quietly. The air was musty here, the lake probably stagnant from the recent summer heat. It wasn’t a large one, and he hoped the survivors had found some kind of water purification if they were drinking it.
He slapped away a mosquito buzzing near his ear, and stopped as the trees opened up, showing him the body of water. There was a plume of smoke rising from the opposite end of the lake, and he grinned. “Gotcha,” he whispered, his gaze steady through the binoculars.
“I don’t think so, buddy.” Dex knew the sound of a gun being cocked, and he dropped the binocs, throwing his hands in the air. For a split second, he considered grabbing for his Glock, but thought better of it as he turned slowly.
“It’s not what you think,” Dex said, seeing three guns aimed at him. The closest man was thickset. A heavy beard covered his chin, and he spat on the ground.
“Looks to me like a Hunter has tracked us. Am I about right?” the man asked.
“Then it is what you think, but I’m here to help you.” Dex was sweating bullets. He hadn’t survived this long only to be shot dead by a scared farmer. “My name’s Dexter Lambert, and I can help you find a safe zone.”
The woman laughed and kicked at a rock. “There ain’t nowhere safe no more, friend.” She was ten years his senior, lean as a pole, but she had fire in her eyes.
“That’s true, but at least you can help fight the Overseers from there,” Dex said, catching a spark on the face of the second man. He was short, half bald and he squinted deeply.
“How can we fight them? Did you see what they done to our farm?” the woman asked.
He nodded slowly. “I also saw what you did to those drones. This group. They need able bodies, and truth be told, they probably need farmers right now. We’re working on stopping the Occupation once and for all, and we need people like you to restart,” Dex said, wondering if he was selling it a little too hard.
“How can we trust a Hunter?” the first man asked, stroking his beard with his left hand. Dex thought it was a good sign the rifle had been lowered and was no longer aimed at his face. More bugs hovered near his head, but Dex let them land on his forehead, worried that a sudden movement would get him killed.
“Want the truth?” Dex asked.
The woman nodded. “That’d be nice.”
“I am a Hunter, and have been for some time. I’ve worked on the wrong side of the Occupation, I’ll admit it, but I was just like you. I was on the working side, and when they offered a chance to live better, I took it. I’ve come to regret it, but at the time, I didn’t think there was much of a choice. I’ve recently met the Reclaimers, a group hellbent on fighting back, and that’s what I’m doing now.” Dex sighed and breathed easier as the other two lowered their weapons.
“What you say, Bernie? Let him live?” the woman asked.
The bearded man grinned, showing a couple missing teeth. “How about you come break bread with us, and tell us about these friends of yours.”
Chapter 6
Fan
Every day was the same for Fan. He woke before the rising of the sun, used the bathrooms to have a tepid shower among the other workers, and dressed in the white jumpsuit before eating a bowl of unsatisfying lumpy beige food. He wasn’t sure it was really food. Conditions had been bad before, but the quality was even worse now, and Fan didn’t expect things to improve any time soon.
Fan would eventually take his spot along the conveyer belt, where he’d connect the caps on the devices the aliens used to stay healthy within Earth’s atmosphere.
Fan held one, the conveyor moving slowly today, and inspected it. It was flat, half as wide as his hand, and about four inches tall. He placed the top to it, clicking into place, and he set it to the belt, where it drifted away to the final boxing station.
This seemed like a role a robot could fulfill, but for some reason, the aliens kept humans on assembly. Fan didn’t even speculate why; he just assumed it was working for them, so why bother to change the process?
Supervisor Li was walking through the white-floored room, his bootsteps loud in the otherwise quiet work environment, and Fan waved for his attention.
“Fan.” The man didn’t even look up from his tablet. Li was older, maybe fifty, and his face was perpetually scrunched into a scowl. Fan doubted he could even smile if he tried.
“Can I be excused. I have a…” He pointed to his stomach and Li nodded.
“Be quick.”
Things had changed in the last few weeks since they’d seen the video. Biyu claimed a hidden message had been deciphered inside the transmission, but they couldn’t let Li know. He worked for them, and he might spill the beans.
She maintained there was a group of resistance, and they’d left a way to contact them.
Fan walked out of the room, past an armed human who paid him no mind, and toward the bathroom. When he glanced around, seeing no one was watching, he darted to the far wall, hugging it as he moved toward the next door. Fan pressed through and stared at the giant vats inside. The lights were down low, the concoctions in the large metal drums were being mixed, and that was the only noise inside the space.
Fan’s idea was sound, but he needed a radio, and that might prove more difficult to acquire. It should be in here, though, and he was essentially risking his life on that fact.
“Over here.” He heard Biyu’s gentle voice and saw her beside an office door at the other end of the concrete floor.
He ran along the wall, glancing up to see if he was remaining out of the camera lines. He followed Biyu into the office.
“Where’s Chan?” he asked.
Biyu’s eyes danced. “It’s surprising what the promise of a kiss will do to these men.”
Fan frowned but shook the image from his mind. “Is this it?”
The device was unfamiliar to him. It was a black box, dials spread along the front, digital displays at the right side. Biyu already had the headphones on, big ones that covered her entire ears, and she fiddled with the dials. “We need to match the transmission codes from t
he video.”
Fan had memorized the details, and he entered them, Biyu smiling wide.
She spoke a few words, and her eyes went wide. Fan assumed there was a reply.
“They speak in English only. I knew we should have brought the old one… Wei.” She spoke again, and there was a pause. “I think they’ll find someone who speaks… Hello, Gregory Zhao. My name is Biyu, and I’m here with Fan, and we work in a manufacturing plant in Shanghai. Yes, we are alive. Yes, we are still operating. No, I can’t confirm if there’s a… gateway.” She frowned, shrugging at Fan. He wished he could hear the other side of the conversation.
“Tell him about the vats,” Fan whispered, checking through the pane of glass on the office door. So far, he hadn’t seen any movement.
“Yes. We work with a device that helps the aliens… Overseer? Is that what you call them? Yes. That’s them… Misters? Yes. Those are the ones.”
Fan tapped his foot impatiently, wondering if this would really work.
“They’re in America. But they are sending people here.” Biyu’s eyes were huge, a smile on her face. “Yes, Mr. Zhao. We have access to the formula. Yes, we can assist you. Two weeks? We will do what we can.” Biyu gave the man any landmarks she could around them, and Fan hoped it was enough for them to find the facility.
“It will be difficult to talk again, but we will try. Yes. We have to go. Okay.” Biyu removed the headphones, and Fan rotated the dials, hoping it didn’t track the outgoing transmissions.
“Did we do it?” Fan asked, at least catching their half of the conversation.
“We did.”
Now they only needed to figure out how they could make contact when the time came.
Sylvie
“Keep quiet over there,” Sylvie whispered from behind the tree trunk. The sap was sticky, and it clung to her fingertips, even after she wiped it off on her jeans.
Maxime looked guilty, and she regretted agreeing to let the young man join her and Gabriel on the challenging mission. The Reclaimers were asking them to do reconnaissance on Europe, and so far, all rumors and clues from any of her outposts directed her to southern Spain. There were huge composites of iron and other minerals down there, and she’d even heard of a possible gateway in Morocco.
Surprisingly enough, the roads along Spain’s east coast were quiet, no sign of the Occupation other than the odd drone. They’d stopped at the outskirts of Barcelona, seeing the charred remains of one of their previous supply chain hubs. The Reclaimers were right about one thing: the aliens were done with mankind.
Their modified scooters were quiet but required solar charging more often than Sylvie would have liked. The one-hundred-and-fifty-kilometer trip had taken four days so far, but considering things, she was willing to accept the slower traveling. Regardless of that, there were still dangers out here, and she sought the skies, looking for the round floating drones used by the Occupation.
“I don’t see anything,” Maxime said. “Can we go?”
“I don’t see them either, but listen… what’s that buzzing?” Gabriel asked, and it reached Sylvie’s ears right after he mentioned it.
“I hope it’s nothing,” she whispered, but reached for her rifle anyway. She’d heard the Reclaimers had managed to garner control of their drones, so had the man named Jack from the UK, and she wished they’d had the same level of success. The truth was, there weren’t as many in France as there appeared to be in other nations, especially Spain. So far, they’d hid half a dozen times, slowing their travel.
But it was something, and Sylvie caught a glint of sunlight off the drone’s shiny hull a mile off. It was originating from inland, moving toward the coastline where they were sitting in a copse of trees. The highway was a quarter mile away, and they’d be unable to outrun the flying drone, even if they made it to their scooters charging by the road.
Gabriel pressed his fingers to his lips, and she saw the other robot. It stalked along the road on four legs and stopped directly across from their position. It was a small dot from this far out, but Sylvie noticed its tiny head tilt as it turned to face them.
“Shit. They have us,” Maxime said, maybe too loudly.
Gabriel motioned to leave, and Sylvie tugged on his arm. “What are you doing?”
“Saving the mission. You two continue. I’ll distract these damned bots.” Gabriel was slightly older than her, thin and wiry, but strong. He still wouldn’t stand a chance against the drones alone.
She shook her head. “We do this as always. Together.” Adam had demanded they separate all those trips ago, and it had gotten him killed. She wasn’t going to lose Gabriel too.
He met her gaze, and she saw the acceptance in his eyes. “Fine. But we have to be quick. Max, you and Sylvie get the Flyer. I’ll take on the Wolf.”
She rose, gripping the rifle tightly, and they waited for the drones to draw nearer. If they were fast, there would be no transmission time, and that was imperative.
The Wolf was trotting along slowly, casually sniffing at the air. The movement felt too organic for the bot, but she wasn’t there to study the thing. She was there to end it.
Sylvie had three fingers up on her left hand, and she dropped one, then the other, until finally the last, and all three of them burst from the cover, firing at the incoming attackers.
Max’s first shot went wide, but Sylvie’s rang true. The Flyer spun, smoking as it began to float lower. She heard Gabriel’s shotgun but didn’t have time to see if he stuck the shot. She rushed toward the injured Flyer, planted her feet, took quick aim, and fired, hitting it on the underbelly. It sparked and crashed to the ground beside the dog-like drone.
The barrel of the gun from the dog’s back was smoking as it fired toward Gabriel, and the shotgun blast hit it at the same time as her bullet. It paused and dropped to the ground, legs spread out.
Sylvie grinned, scanning the skies and ground for more, and when she saw the coast was clear, she turned to her friends to celebrate. Maxime was kneeling beside Gabriel, his hands covered in blood.
“He’s dead…”
Sylvie rushed to them, but it was quickly obvious her counterpart was deceased. “Damn it.” Gabriel’s eyes were wide open, his stomach wound bleeding profusely. She pulled Maxime to her, hugging the shocked young man.
“Get your things. We need to leave.”
Jack
Jack Paulson hated to abandon his home of the last decade, but it was time. He took one last look of his Barony from the tower, and saw the thousands of people rushing about, preparing for their trip. His eyes drifted to the three alien vessels parked along the outskirts of their property, and he smiled as he recalled obtaining them in the early years.
He wondered how long the aliens lived, and if they’d procreated during their time on Earth. Were they even fighting the same batch that had originally arrived, or were these a whole new generation? It was difficult to fight a war with an enemy you knew next to nothing about.
Benji was with the other kids, filing on to the third warship where they would be escorted to northern Norway. It was as far away from the Occupation as they could get, with no mines, gateways, or aliens for hundreds of miles. Their group had over four hundred children under the age of sixteen, and they were the ones moving out first, with thirty elderly and a handful of guards.
If anything were to happen to Jack and the others from the Barony, this was their legacy to the world. They had implicit directions on what to do, and perhaps, if Jack failed, his son would lead humanity to a fresh start one day. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
“Are you ready?” Ava asked, her hands finding his waist as she hugged him from behind.
“I want you to go with Benji,” Jack said.
“You know I can’t.”
“But…”
“We have to be good to our word. The other parents are going through the same thing. We’re going to war, Jack. Simple as that.”
He turned and kissed her. “Then I guess I’d be
tter make sure we win, right?”
“Right.”
The door creaked open, and Jack’s gaze was drawn to Daniel as he entered. The room used to have a dozen computers and twice as many monitors, but it was bereft of anything the Occupation could use to track them now. “Boss, we have contact with Choolwe.”
“And?”
“He’s confirmed the gateway in Zambia. The mines are massive.” Daniel’s face was pale.
“Okay. Send word to the Masons. We have confirmation of the Gate. Tell them we’re coming on their word.” Jack walked with his beautiful wife toward the tower’s exit, and he hoped the twin’s plan was going to work.
It had to.
Chapter 7
Lina
Lina sat and fidgeted in the chair she was offered, spinning side to side.
Her head swam with so many facts that she struggled to keep up and catalogue everything. Only a short time ago, her world existed inside a single valley. Her life had been a simple one, and subsequent events had made her regret each and every time she wanted to see more of the world.
By now, she’d seen more than enough. More than she wanted to.
The Gateway in Detroit was only one of several on the planet, and that knowledge undermined her spirit more than anything else. She held out a youthfully optimistic hope that they could combine to destroy that one portal to the alien world, but to learn that there were more on other continents deflated her very soul.
“Are you listening?” Doctor Parvati asked, pulling her consciousness into the room.
“Sorry,” she apologized meekly with hunched shoulders. “My head was in the clouds.”
Rise | Book 3 | Reclamation Page 5