The Invasion Trilogy (Book 2): The Shadows

by W. J. Lundy

  The Suburban was where they left it. Every surface on the vehicle was marred. Dented body panels and broken windows showed the effects of the mob pressing against it. They formed up into a tight Ranger column and crept along the sides of the building, hiding in the shadows. James once again moved far ahead on point with Rogers walking slack. The patrol moved slowly. In no hurry, James checked every corner, ready to knock down any hunter that came into sight before it would have a chance to report their position.

  The streets were empty, the sidewalks covered with shards of broken glass. The men had to watch where they stepped to avoid stepping on the fragments and the noise of crushing glass. Jacob roved on, looking at the stalled vehicles. Most suffered broken windows; he could see where people struggled with the things trying to remove them from their cars. Blood on windshields and door handles, bloody tire irons lying in the street. Two blocks of narrow streets filled with death, flanked by commercial brick and concrete buildings before they reached the overgrown field.

  James stopped at the edge of the building across from the field and knelt down, observing the way the grass moved and looking for any disparity in the motion. Anything that would indicate someone or something was hiding in the tall grass. He got back to his feet and waved the column forward, leading the way across the street and into the waist-high grass. He stopped when he reached a narrow dirt trail and decided to follow it, as it would allow them to move more quietly and to see what was in front of them. Avoiding the grass silenced their movements, even if it made them easier to see.

  Jacob was relieved at being off the city street and back in the open terrain. The air was clear here and the stench of the decay less prominent. As they hiked along, he could push out the horrors of the death-filled streets for just a moment. Although they were walking through a large open field surrounded by tall tree lines, Jacob felt concealed in the space even though he knew the feeling was unfounded. He looked at the trees in the distance and realized any of them could be out there right now, watching, planning their next move… running to intersect them when they left the woods. Jacob shook his head and blinked his eyes rapidly to clear his thoughts then focused on the ground immediately to his front.

  At corners on the path, James would halt the patrol, allowing the men to kneel out of sight in the grass while he sneaked ahead with Rogers on slack, keeping him in view. When James was confident the way was clear, Rogers would signal them forward. The trail led them through a low depression and up to a hilltop surrounded by thick, unpruned trees. James guided them to just below the crest of the hill to avoid skylining the team then halted the patrol, the men naturally forming a small defensive circle. The men made a nest and moved together, all facing different directions to provide a security bubble while they rested.

  Marks opened his map and spread it out across his lap. James pointed out their current location and the route they would travel. “The plant is on the other side of the hill,” he whispered. “I’ll scout ahead then bring you all up.”

  Rogers moved off to the side, trying to take advantage of the elevation to contact the ship. He looked frustrated as he tried different techniques to relay a signal. Jacob sat slightly apart from them, off the trail and low in the grass but still in a position that he could see down the hill. He fished a bottle from his pack and sipped at the water, not wanting to drink too fast; he didn’t know when they would have a chance to refill their bottles.

  He spotted movement on the trail below. He flinched and focused his eyes, thinking he saw a flash of gold dart across their back trail. Jacob lifted his rifle and focused on the far off spot, using the weapon’s optics.

  “Did you see something?” Stephens whispered, observing Jacob’s change in posture and reaching for his own rifle.

  Not immediately answering, Jacob strained his eye and tried to steady the rifle so that he could see into the waist-high grass. He saw the flash of movement again, though this time it darted across then stopped and looked right at him. He took his eye from the scope, lifting slightly over it to look again. Less than a hundred feet away, a bright golden Labrador retriever was sitting on the path looking at them, its tongue out while it panted.

  “It’s a dog,” Jacob said.

  James crawled to Jacob’s position and looked through the binoculars, verifying his report. “Damn, I ain’t seen one of those in a long time. I thought they were all dead.”

  “What do we do?” Jacob asked.

  “Well, you saw it, so it’s only fair that you get to shoot it.”

  Jacob looked back at James sternly, then at the cold faces of the others. “Fuck you; I ain’t killing no dog. What’s wrong with you?”

  James laughed and smacked Jacob on the back. “Just playing with you, bro. We’re not shooting any damn dog. But if it gets to barking, you’ll have to do something about it.”

  The dog sat watching them, keeping its distance. Slowly, it stalked closer up the trail, stopping within fifty feet of the strangers before moving back into the tall grass and disappearing. James got them back to their feet and led them over the hill and down the far side into the thicker trees. Jacob looked back behind him and caught a glimpse of the golden dog following them. It popped onto the trail, walking along before slipping back into the high grass.

  As James had predicted, they could start to make out the white steel buildings and holding tanks of the chemical plant below. The point man moved them to a tall, thick tree line at the edge of a road running parallel to the chemical plant’s tall chain linked fence. Beyond that was a wide, grassy field—or rather, long uncut lawn—then the steel-sided building.

  Joining the huddle, Jacob moved in close to the others across from the fence. He pointed at the tall, white cylinders in the distance. “That’s the tank farm… there should be a pump house or some type of control room nearby. That would be the best place to find a list of what’s where. There should be a large layout inside the guardhouse or control room; there has to be a disaster plan someplace for fire fighters and other first responders. It’s usually inside the gate or security office so emergency workers know what they are dealing with.”

  Marks looked at him, surprised; the others stopped and stared. “How do you know all of this?” Marks asked.

  Jacob kept his eyes on the tank farm, searching the structures. “Because my day job kept me in factories and manufacturing plants—I know a thing or two about them. There are a shitload of storage tanks over there. If we’re lucky, they will have a class-six label.”

  “What, you mean like booze?” James said, stating the military’s designation for alcohol.

  “No, I mean like HAZMAT. Look for something that says poison or toxic. But it would be better to find a layout that takes us right to it.”

  Marks looked at Stephens, who shrugged. “Makes sense to me. I think we should listen to him,” Stephens whispered.

  The team leader pushed the map of the compound to Jacob. “Okay then, where do you suggest we look?”

  Jacob took the map and compared it to what he was seeing on the ground in front of him. “We can follow this main fence around to here. Looks like there should be a gatehouse and driver check-in area with a security checkpoint for other visitors. We can check that place for a first responders’ notebook, or something like that. Not every plant has one, but I’ve seen plenty that do.”

  “Okay,” Marks said. “James, you take point with Jacob; follow the fence and clear the guard shack. See if he can find this layout directory or notebook thing. We’ll hold up outside, backing you up. If we locate the tanks, we’ll go inside and set up a patrol base before going after it.”

  Jacob nodded. Still holding the facility map, he looked it over closely; there were only two tank farms, each with over twenty tanks. It would be difficult and time consuming to locate the dioxin without a schematic if they had to search the tanks one by one. Jacob folded up the paper map and passed it off to Marks. As he did, he saw the golden Labrador retriever walk up just behind them and
sit at the outskirts of the group huddle.

  Chapter 16

  “What the hell do we do with this dog?” James asked.

  Jacob put a hand on the retriever’s head and scratched at its ears. The dog wagged its tail and cautiously moved closer, pressing into Jacob, nearly knocking him off balance. Jesse smiled and broke off a piece of jerky he’d been carrying in his pocket and fed it to the dog. The dog lapped at it hungrily then licked Jesse’s hand, begging for more.

  “No, dammit; don’t go feeding it,” James protested. “Now we’ll never get rid of it.”

  Jacob patted the dog on the side. “Don’t worry about it; he’s friendly and done something right to survive out here on his own. We could probably learn a thing or two from him.”

  Stephens put his hands up. “Shut up about the dog, James. If it causes problems you can deal with it.”

  “Fuck that, I ain’t shooting a dog,” James muttered under his breath.

  “Enough.” It was Marks, growing frustrated. “Back to the task at hand. James, let’s get this done; move us out.”

  James crouched, and then stood. Looking back, he offered Jacob a hand and rocketed him up to his feet. He put his mouth close to Jacob’s ear. “Just give me room to work. Stay close… but not too close,” he whispered.

  Jacob shook his head mockingly then nodded his understanding, allowing James to step off ahead of him, before following along the wooded roadside. Jacob looked back and saw that the rest of the team were on their feet, spread out along the tree line. The dog walked just in front of Jesse, its tongue out like he was on a leisurely stroll through the park, happy to be a member of the pack.

  James crept along out front, positioning himself so that he stayed in the shade and shadows of the tall poplar trees. They approached the gate, still concealed in the tree line on the far side of the street. A sign labeled the area as a loading dock entrance—not a main entry for factory and office workers. From the back, the factory was dead, no signs of movement or life. Tall sheet metal buildings with dirty windows stood empty, and a parking lot near the guardhouse was completely void of any vehicles.

  James looked back at Jacob and waved him forward. “Looks like this place is closed up tight. We cross together. I’ll work the lock while you cover me.”

  Jacob again nodded. James used a hand to slap his back then they ran across the open area of the street together. The gate was in a small stretch of gravel lot; their boots made noise as the treads shuffled along the crushed stone. James slid in and crouched down. Removing a lock pick kit from his cargo pocket, he immediately went to work on the padlock. Jacob turned so that he was looking past James. His rifle up, he swept the terrain for targets. The chain clanged and the lock fell to the ground. James undid the latch and they pushed until the gate gave way then opened it just enough so they could slip inside. James hung the lock on the fence so the last of the team could secure the gate behind them after entering.

  The guardhouse was just ahead. The building looked intact, even though the door was open. James ran, crouching low, and pressed against the shack’s front wall, squatting so that he was hidden below the window. He waited for Jacob to fall in beside him before he slowly moved down the wall and, working angles, cleared the doorway. He stood and leaned inside before pulling back out. “Yeah, it’s empty; go see if you can find anything.”

  Jacob pressed forward and slipped around him, moving past the open door and entering the guard shack—a small, square building with windows on all sides. Just in front of the door was a steel gray desk. A lunch box was open with a half-eaten, dried up sandwich on top of a paper towel. A small thermos sat near the edge of the desk, next to a full cup of coffee. Draped over the chair was a man’s heavy work coat with security patches on the sleeve.

  A clipboard with scribbled entries hung on the wall near the door. In black ink, the final entry read Lockdown complete 16:00. The date of the entry was blank. All entries before it were routine: gate secure, facility closed. Jacob turned away from the clipboard and searched the small file cabinet next to the desk. Like most security offices, it was filled with garbage instead of official business; hot sauce packets, paper plates, and Styrofoam cups joined a stack of unfiled incident reports bundled together on the bottom of the drawer.

  Jacob felt discouraged, not wanting to let the team down. He got low on the floor, looking under the desk and pulling things away from the wall. He spotted a red plastic container, the size of a ream of paper, mounted on the far side of an open and empty first aid kit. Jacob removed the plastic case from the wall and placed it on the desk. The case had a fire department logo sticker on the front and TIER II reports in stenciled, bold letters across the middle.

  He unlatched the box and flipped it open. The hazardous chemicals report was directly on top and dated within the last year. He lifted the stapled pages out and set them aside. Next was a long list of emergency contact numbers and, finally, a site schematic—exactly what Jacob was looking for. He flipped through the pages, looking for the word “dioxin”. He found it on the third page, 2,3,7,8 – Tetrachlorodibenzo-p-dioxin Military Experimental (TCDDMX4). A grid reference line was next to it that corresponded to the schematic. Next to that was a warning: Protective apparel, inner and outer garments. Gloves, boots, respirator.

  Jacob ripped the page from the book and folded it together with the schematic. He gave the office another quick sweep and stepped outside, moving around James and kneeling low beside him.

  “Find what you were looking for?” James asked.

  Jacob held up the folded papers to the bearded Marine and nodded. James pointed to the lieutenant and waved him over. Marks ran from the small place of cover where they were held up near the gate then moved in and knelt down with the two men. Jacob opened the folded pages, showing Marks the chemical list and its spot on the small diagram. Marks grinned. “Good work. James, find us a patrol base.”

  Not waiting for Marks to leave, James stood back up. “Any suggestions, factory boy?” James asked.

  Jacob shrugged and shook his head. “Something open and easy to access; maybe a loading dock?”

  James grinned and moved across the open ground to the side of the first large steel wall. He paused, waiting for Jacob to fall in behind him. Then he stepped off, moving slowly while staying close to the edge of the building. When he moved up on a corner, he would pause the group trailing behind then step away and slowly round it before bringing Jacob along with him. The building was flanked with high grass that transitioned to blacktop as they moved around to the backside of the structure.

  Ahead were two large, overhead doors with a fireproof man-door between them. Beyond this wall, they could see a large loading dock then the tank farm where the dioxins should be located. James continued patrolling forward until he was at the small, steel entry door. He checked the handle and found it locked. James unclipped his rifle from his vest and leaned it against the building as he squatted down. Examining the lock, he let out a grunt then dug back into his cargo pocket for the lock kit.

  Jacob moved closer and knelt beside him. He aimed out with his rifle while occasionally looking back at the rest of the team lined up on the wall, including the retriever that lay in the tall grass next to Jesse. James worked on the lock, cursing to himself.

  “So if you can pick locks, why did you shoot up the door yesterday?” Jacob asked.

  James shook his head and twisted the small tool. When he felt the lock give, he reached for the door handle and pulled down, releasing the latch. “Cause we didn’t have the time… and sometimes I like to break shit.”

  He lifted his rifle with his right hand, keeping his left on the door latch. Jacob turned around, waving for the others to move up.

  When they were all stacked on the door, James powered on a bright light at the end of his rifle and swept into the building with the others close behind him. Jacob moved through the door, detecting the musty smells of standing water and wet concrete. James’s light cut through the d
ark room, deep into the structure, revealing tall, steel girders and beams. Stacked plastic drums, covered in shrink-wrap, sat on wooden pallets. An electric fork-lift rested idle, still plugged into a wall.

  A life-sized, cardboard figure of a man greeted them with a cartoonish display, showing how to wear an apron, safety glasses, and gloves. Beyond this was a large walled-off area. James moved up to the corner of the structure then rolled inside, panning the area with his light before moving back out and declaring it clear. “Looks like a break area; dining tables, microwaves, that sort of thing,” James said.

  Rogers closed the steel door, cutting off the only light source and causing them to depend on James’ flashlight. Rogers snapped several chem lights and dropped them on the floor, hanging another at the entrance to the break area. Marks passed into the room with the others following. When Jacob entered and sat at a table he looked down and saw the dog was still with them, sticking close to Jesse’s side. As soon as Jesse sat at one of the tables, the dog jumped up and sat in an empty chair next him.

  Glass shattered and Jacob looked up to see James using the back of his KA-BAR to access a vending machine. He reached in then tossed small bags of chips and candy bars onto a lunch table. James sat at the table and sparked the dog’s attention when he ripped open a bag of chips. The Lab approached the man and sat by his boot.

  “What is it with this dog?” James laughed and then leaned down to stroke the dog’s head.

  “Oh, you mean Duke? He’s our mascot,” Jesse said.

  “Hell, no. You fed it, and now you went and named it,” James said, trying to sound tough. He stopped petting the dog, causing Duke to look up at him and press his wet nose against his arm. James grinned and continued to pet the dog. “Well, guess he’s a member of the Assassins now.” James opened the bag of chips and set it on the floor for Duke.