The Invasion Trilogy (Book 2): The Shadows

by W. J. Lundy

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant,” they responded in unison.

  Masterson turned to look back at the Canadians, who were walking down the hill to the dead in the field. “Okay then,” he said, slapping the side of the truck before entering the cab.

  The truck roared to life, backing up swiftly and causing Jacob to nearly fall. He pushed his muddy boots against the bed of the truck to steady himself. Leaning back and feeling Jesse pressed in beside him, Jacob looked up at the three other men across from him. Younger than him and Jesse, all three were in their late twenties. Jacob hadn’t gotten to know them, the pace of the training and limited downtime making it nearly impossible.

  Jacob watched the men push close together as the truck bounced down the road. They returned through the perimeter gate and followed the fence back to the garrison area. Jacob recognized some of the buildings… the hospital where he was treated, and the gate to the housing area where he knew Laura and Katy were staying. The men watched over the rails of the truck as they passed through the familiar site. The driver didn’t stop; he continued on then turned onto the gravel road that returned them to the recruit training camp.

  As they approached, Jacob could see the rest of the recruits formed up on the limestone lot, standing at ease as they waited. The truck drove close and stopped. Masterson and the driver exited, the latter quickly moving to the rear to drop the tailgate as Masterson stood beside him. Jacob and the others rolled out from the truck, holding their gear. They scrambled ahead, moving toward the rest of the men formed up on the gravel lot.

  “Anderson, Winslow, you two stand fast,” Masterson said, stopping them. “The rest of you, back in the barracks and get cleaned up for chow.”

  Jacob stepped back and put his M14 on his shoulder; he looked to Jesse, who shrugged his shoulders. Masterson went on his way, leaving Jacob and Jesse alone by the back of the truck.

  “You think we did something wrong?” Jesse whispered. “What does he want with us now?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure we are about to find out.”

  Masterson called the waiting formed-up recruits to attention then turned them over to another drill sergeant, who led the group of men off to the evening meal. The old soldier turned and looked back at Jacob with a shake of his head before slowly striding toward them.

  “What’s going on, Drill Sergeant?” Jesse asked.

  Masterson forced a grin. “You can drop the Drill Sergeant shit. Your time here is done; your training will continue elsewhere.”

  Jacob stood, confused, as fear welled in his belly, thinking he’d failed. “I don’t understand… what did we do wrong?”

  “Nahh, it ain’t that,” Masterson said, reaching into a shirt pocket and stuffing a wad of tobacco into his lip. “You’re moving on… both of you. I’d be lying if I say I didn’t envy you. A soldier shouldn’t be back here in the rear at a time like this.”

  “Moving?” Jesse asked.

  “The Darkness is infiltrating north faster than anyone had anticipated. They hit us this morning—just a small group, but they managed to do a lot of damage. That little piece you saw was just a fraction of what came at us. We are starting to learn how they work. If they’re here, and they know where we are, they’ll come back. If they manage to get established someplace close, they will multiply.

  “That unit we supported earlier has an outfit preparing to move out. They lost a couple of men recently and turns out you’re going to replace them.”

  Masterson looked Jacob in the eye. “You must have friends in high places, because they asked for you by name. I would have turned them down, but he had paperwork authorizing it.”

  “Hell yeah,” Jesse said, putting a fist up to Jacob.

  Jacob ignored the gesture and looked to Masterson. “Who? Where are we going?”

  Masterson laughed. “I don’t know, guys. But listen, I watched you both today; you’ll do fine, but you aren’t ready yet. You need to listen to your sergeants; maybe you’ll stay alive long enough to learn something. Now go toss your weapons in the back of that supply truck. You won’t be needing them anymore. Two-Six will outfit you with all the new gear and rifles you’ll need downrange. Go grab your shit out of the barracks; your pickup will be here in ten mikes and you need to be ready to go when it arrives.”

  “Can I see my family before we leave?” Jacob asked.

  Masterson looked at Jacob, letting his jaw soften. “I’m sorry, but there’s no time. You just take care of yourself, okay? I’ll look in on your family and let them know you’ve moved out. Ten mikes; don’t miss your ride. Good luck, gentleman.” Masterson turned to walk away, leaving them alone and confused.

  Chapter 5

  Jacob was cold and wet; he couldn’t remember a time ever feeling such pain and discomfort from the weather. His jaw ached from shivering, his body cramped, and his legs numbed where they pressed against the cold steel of the Ford pickup truck. It’d been raining for hours and he was soaked to the bone, the green wool blanket doing little to comfort him.

  The vehicle had pulled into the barracks lot just after sunset. Jacob and Jesse rushed into the back of the old pickup truck just as the rain began. They’d been driving for over an hour down broken gravel back roads, avoiding the main highways, entering dark forests and hilly terrain. He tried to follow the street signs and look into the small guarded villages where soldiers patrolled the streets and all windows and doors were tightly secured. Jacob quickly lost track of where they were as the weather gradually turned worse and he resorted to lying low against the cab to hide from the rain.

  Jacob removed the blanket from his face; Jesse was sleeping across from him, barely visible in the dark night. He was wrapped in a blanket of his own with his body sprawled out in the bed of the truck, bouncing and swaying with every bump. As the wind blew more pelting rain into his eyes, Jacob pulled the blanket tight, shielding his face.

  The truck came to a halt on a dark, muddy road. The driver’s door swung out, squeaking against rusted metal. A tired, bearded man wearing a faded lime-green camouflage parka and a floppy hat with water running off the brim stepped into the cold rain. He had the hard look of a warrior. The man could easily fit in as a barbarian with a large axe and horned helmet. He pointed up the hill to a small log cabin with a barn behind it. There was a thin sliver of light in a front window between the heavy drapes.

  “That’s home for tonight, boys. Get your stuff so we can get inside before we all drown,” he said before reaching back into the truck’s cab and grabbing his own bag. He stepped away and slammed the door, waking Jesse. Jesse rolled to the side and looked up at Jacob, confused.

  “Let’s go,” the man shouted, losing patience. He took another step toward the building then paused to allow Jacob and Jesse to gather behind him.

  The man led them up a muddy path toward the cabin’s porch while lightning flashed behind them, showing the way in strobes of light. The bearded man moved ahead of them and stopped just before the door. A large barrel-chested guard dressed in a similar camouflage parka, wearing a dark, wool watch cap moved out of the shadows and looked them over. The two men exchanged words and a low laugh. The guard stepped closer and used a small light, shining it in Jacob’s eyes. “These are the cherries; just picked them up at the orchard,” the driver said.

  “Not much to look at, are they? But they’re clear, at least… no infection here,” the guard answered with a nod. He stepped aside, allowing the driver and the others to enter the room.

  The bearded man looked back. “Don’t take it personal, rookie. Everyone gets checked for infection on arrival,” he said. “Especially cherries.”

  The man left the door open, allowing Jacob to follow him into the warm, open space. The guard quickly closed the door behind them as Jesse paused before following them in. The bearded man approached an old, stone fireplace and tossed pieces of split wood to the hot coals. The wood soon burned brightly, heat radiating off the stonework.

  The man shed his wet clot
hing and hung it on wooden hooks so that the fabric dangled near the flame then knelt down beside the fire to warm his hands while water dripped from his soaked beard. He turned back toward Jacob and Jesse and pointed at a far wall. “That’s your spot over there. Drop your gear and get cozy. You ain’t going anywhere ‘til morning, so you might as well get comfortable for the time being,” he grunted before turning back to the warmth of the fire.

  Jacob walked to the far wall and dropped his bag, hanging the wet wool blanket over the back of a chair to dry. They were in a rustic one-room cabin lit only by the fire blazing in the large fireplace. The windows were all covered with dark drapes, and the floor was made of rough-sawn boards fitted tight and held in place by flathead nails. The floor in front of the fire was covered by a thick rug made of animal fur. On the opposite wall, Jacob spotted the forms of sleeping men near a table in the corner with chairs scattered around it.

  He turned to look at Jesse, who was still groggy from his nap in the back of the truck. Jesse was the type who could sleep anytime, anywhere, and on command. The big man dropped his bag and stumbled to the wall then sat back against it. He looked around the room wearily before rubbing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. Jacob was suddenly envious of his friend’s tenacity to rest. He watched as Jesse’s head dipped to the side then rolled back, snoring.

  Being ignored by the bearded man at the fire, and his only friend having returned to sleep, Jacob stood, feeling suddenly alone. He was still shivering, his uniform drenched with the cold rainwater that permeated to his bones and made his joints ache. The growling in his stomach reminded him that he’d missed the evening meal to catch his ride. Thunder clapped outside and wind beat hard, pelting rain against the sides of the cabin. For a moment, he missed his warm bed and the furnace in the old training barracks.

  Jacob stepped closer into the light of the fire, unzipped his jacket, and let it drop to the large stone mantle. He then moved closer yet to the glowing embers, feeling the warmth as it caused his wet T-shirt to steam. The man turned and looked at him, seeing the agony on Jacob’s face matched by the shivering of his body. “You should be thankful for the rain.”

  “What?” Jacob asked, puzzled. “Is this one of those farmer things, good for the crops and flowers and all that shit?”

  Showing bright white teeth through his thick beard, the man smiled and squatted down to the mantle, sitting with his back to the fire as he untied his boots. “No, just makes it easier for us to maneuver. The Deltas don’t like it; not sure why, but they seem to hunker down when the weather turns foul like this. Especially cold, miserable nights like this one.”

  “Deltas?” Jacob asked.

  “Deltas, The Darkness, or whatever you want to call them; black eyes, devils, assholes… take your pick, it’s all the same. You know, you should get out of those boots. Last thing you want is trench foot; you’ll need good feet when we cross the lake. You need to get your wet clothes hung up and dried out.”

  Jacob dropped and sat beside the man, undoing his own laces, pulling off the wet boots, and removing his drenched socks. His feet felt cold and clammy, his toes tingling with numbness. He moved his clothing onto hooks embedded into the mantle, letting them hang close to the fire. “You said we’re crossing the lake? Where the hell are we, anyway?” Jacob asked.

  Ignoring his question, the man turned and removed a blue steel pot from the fire using a thick leather mitt. He shuffled away from Jacob and filled two mugs resting on the mantle before handing one to Jacob, who sniffed the liquid and made a sour face. The man laughed softly. “Fern tea… might as well get used to it,” he said before replacing the pot.

  “We’re just outside of Meaford, still in Canada. This is one of our safe houses between the base and the front lines. We go here to rest up between missions. It’s not great but still better than being on base—more freedom out here. You’re Jacob, right? You can call me James. Sorry for skipping introductions earlier. Sometimes you have to move fast and skip the formalities. I hate traveling alone after dark without an escort, bad weather or not.”

  Jacob held the warm cup in his hands, letting the metal thaw his cold fingers. He sipped the tea, the taste becoming easier the more he drank it. He closed his eyes tight and slowly opened them again. “James, why am I here?”

  The bearded man stood and stretched. “Tomorrow… you’ll know tomorrow.” He pointed to Jesse, who was still leaning against his pack, asleep under the wet blanket. “You should get some sleep. That’s a key around here: sleep when you can. We have a lot to do in the morning.” The man took another sip of his tea and splashed the rest into the fire before returning his cup to the mantle. He shifted away from the fire, moving into the back of the room where Jacob watched him dig a bedroll from his pack.

  Jacob stayed by the warmth of the fireplace. With his back to the mantle, he removed his wet T-shirt then lay down on the thick rug and stretched out on the surface to let the fire become his blanket. He closed his eyes but couldn’t sleep; too many thoughts and emotions clouded his brain. He wondered if Masterson would keep his word and inform Laura that he’d shipped out, then he wondered if maybe it was better that she didn’t know.

  The door to the cabin opened, allowing another pair of armed men to enter. They passed inside, stomping their boots and stripping off wet gear. Jacob feigned sleep, not interested in more uncomfortable conversation. He watched the men move near James and arrange their own sleeping areas. The men spoke in hushed tones that Jacob listened to for a few minutes before dozing to sleep.

  He was awakened by a kick at the bottom of his bare feet and caught his name before he opened his eyes. He tried to sit up, feeling the cold aches in his back and shoulders. Light now shone into the room through the heavy drapes, telling him it was morning. He squinted, trying to focus on the tall man standing over him. He wore the same dark camouflage as the others and looked at Jacob with a beaming smile. “Told ya I’d look after you, bro,” the man said.

  Jacob’s face filled with recognition after catching Stephens’s grin looking down at him, and he tried to sit up.

  “How come every time I see you you’re laying down, always on your lazy ass?” Stephens joked.

  “Oh man, it’s so good to see you. I didn’t know what to think after last night. So you’re the one responsible for all of this?” Jacob said. He reached for his now dry shirt on the mantle and quickly pulled it on. He looked to the wall to find Jesse sitting on his pack, eating something from a large bowl. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hell, this is my spot. You’re assigned to me now,” Stephens said, going to the fire and using a wooden spoon to stir at a deep, black, iron pot. He used the spoon and plopped a large scoop of the mixture into a bowl. He handed it off to Jacob then made one for himself before dropping to sit on the floor. Stephens took a large mouthful and swallowed before saying, “Get your gear together and meet me outside with your boy. We got a lot to do and not much time to do it. We’re moving out today.”

  “Moving where?” Jacob asked.

  Stephens smiled. “We’re going back… taking the fight straight to these things.” Stephens took another gulping bite and climbed to his feet, throwing his bowl and spoon into a large basin. He turned back to Jacob. “Seriously, you need to get a move on. You’re with Recon now; we don’t drag ass, so hurry up.”

  Chapter 6

  Jacob stood on the front porch of the cabin with Jesse waiting eagerly close beside him. Both men huddled under the roof. They carried their duffle bags on their backs and were still without weapons. In the daylight, Jacob could see that the cabin sat deep in the woods, surrounded by tall trees, the muddy road the only access point. There were no neighbors in sight. Old wooden rocking chairs were on the porch and a fieldstone fire pit in the backyard. At one time, this must have been someone’s vacation retreat—a hunting spot or place for family gatherings.

  The sky was heavily overcast and the rain continued to pour down, causing the ruts in the road to overflo
w with brown water. Rain ran off the shingles and dripped over the roof’s edge, creating deep puddles on the muddy path. The road at the bottom of the hill was now empty, the truck gone. The guard was also gone. Jacob exchanged glances with Jesse. “They said out front, right?”

  Jesse shrugged his shoulders in response.

  “Hey, Private Pyle! Over here!” a shout echoed across the yard, causing both men to turn their heads.

  They saw a cedar-sided barn just inside the tree line. Its large sliding door was open to reveal men inside, nearly concealed by the shadows. Jacob stepped off quickly toward the barn with Jesse following close behind, stomping through the puddles. A solidly built, clean-shaven man with a staff sergeant’s rank on his chest moved out and met them just outside the door. He looked them up and down without speaking.

  “Damn, you all look even worse in the daylight. I asked Masterson for replacements and he sends me this shit? Hell… good thing Stephens vouched for you, or I’d be sending you off to the labor camps.” The man shook his head and pointed to the barn. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get inside, cherries.”

  They stepped out of the rain and through the door to find the other men grouped around stacks of wooden crates. A lean, confident-looking man with bulging arms stood close to the door. He turned and grinned at them as they entered. “Finally got us some fresh ones. Where the hell they find these two?”

  “Boots–right outta training from that new camp they set up at Meaford. They’s pushin’ recruits through fast as the Deltas can kill ‘em,” Stephens said, stepping from the back so that he could be seen. He shot a wink at Jacob to let him know he was among friends.

  The lean man with slicked-back dark hair stepped closer and looked them up and down. “Well, no time for games; we got a mission to get to. Those two rucksacks in the corner belong to you. Fish out whatever personal things are important to you, an’ load ‘em up. The rest of your shit you can dump in the corner… you won’t be needing it.” The man turned around on the balls of his feet and, looking at Stephens, continued, “Get these two armed up. We need to meet the boat.”