The Invasion Trilogy (Book 2): The Shadows

by W. J. Lundy

  Jacob followed Duke outside, where he watched the Golden Lab pace excitedly as if he was going for a walk around the block. Jacob noticed that James had shed much of his heavy protective equipment and now wore a well-worn floppy hat. It made Jacob’s own helmet feel even heavier, and he debated putting it back in his pack and trading it for a soft cap. Shifting his attention to the doorway, he watched as the others fell in behind him dressed in all of their armor. He decided to follow their lead and gathered along the backside of the building, waiting for the order to move out.

  James knelt by the corner of the tall steel structure and pointed to the far trees. First, the team needed to break out of the city unnoticed then it was a straight shot north to the Army base. Marks had the coordinates of a communications tower there that they hoped they could use to get a message out. James looked up and smirked as Marks folded up the map and tucked it away in a breast pocket. “What’s so funny?” Marks asked.

  “I just think it’s cute watching you try to read that map,” he whispered before reaching over to stroke the dog’s ears.

  Marks flipped him off then looked back at the rest of the patrol. “Let’s get this done.”

  Thirty minutes later, Jacob was walking on a narrow game trail fifty feet into a thick wood line that ran parallel to a winding gravel road. The men moved through parks and what were once finely manicured gardens and golf courses. Traveling south, they crossed a bridge, taking them farther from the city before reentering the woods. Hoping to avoid Deltas, they turned west—away from any structures and opting for the high grasses and woods instead of paved roads and sidewalks.

  Jacob watched as Duke worked with the point man. The dog would wander out a few feet ahead, sometimes darting off the trail, then slowly walking back to rejoin them before trotting back to the front. If the dog stopped, James would call them to a halt while Duke sniffed at the grass or looked off at some distant object. When Duke went back to wagging his tail, James would move them back out. This style of movement made them slow and would take them longer to travel, but the slow easy-to-follow pace was also less exhausting.

  The dog hadn’t barked; he only growled and bared its teeth in the presence of the Delta back at the warehouse. Not the evidence Marks needed to consider the dog a true military tracker, but still, James had already taken the dog in and made it one of the Team. James was slowly putting his faith in the dog and making him part of his point man tool bag.

  Duke again stopped on the trail to sniff and inspect the ground around a worn tree stump. James held up a fist, halting them as the dog stepped into the tree line while keeping its nose to the air. This time, Marks made his way up to the front of the patrol. “James, we need to pick up the pace,” he whispered. “We can’t stop every time your dog needs to mark his territory.”

  James shook his head lazily, listening to the lieutenant’s rant. “Sir, Duke is in the zone right now. I’m sorry, L-Tee, but I can’t mess around with that kind of Mojo.”

  Marks shook his head. “James, stop fucking around—”

  The dog suddenly dropped low, its feet apart in a fighter’s stance, his tail rigid and tucked back. Duke didn’t bark or growl, but Jacob could clearly see its lip curl, revealing white fangs. James put a finger to his lip then held out a flat hand and waved toward the grass, causing the others to fan out and get low in the heavy vegetation.

  James dropped to his belly and low crawled forward past Marks and took up a prone position near Duke. Feeling the closeness of James, the dog’s lip dropped, covering the white fangs; however, Duke remained rigid as he looked off into the woods with his nostrils flaring and the hair on his neck and back standing up. James stroked the dog calmly, letting him know he was there, not wanting the dog to bark.

  A branch broke and tree limbs scraped against something. It was far off and out of sight, but they could hear it clearly in the silent woods. Something was walking along the shoulder of the gravel road. Whenever it moved ahead of them, it made a lot of noise as it crashed through brush. Duke’s ears remained pinned as he followed the sounds. The dog’s nostrils flared again as he looked up the trail, drool rolling over his lips and exposed teeth, just as a second sound of breaking branches and scuffing of dry leaves echoed over the trail.

  “There’s the second one,” Rogers whispered from somewhere behind Jacob.

  They lay in the heavy vegetation for fifteen minutes, allowing whatever was in the woods to pass them by. Afraid to move, Jacob remained completely still and silent as he watched ants crawl across his gloved hand. Duke relaxed his posture and stood high again. He panted while his wagging tail slapped against James. The team let out a collective sigh and got back to their feet, slowly grouping up. Jesse tossed a full strip of jerky to the dog who hungrily lapped it up.

  “Okay, let that dog keep its Mojo and move us out,” Marks said, giving in. “The mass is still out there somewhere.”

  James nodded and leaned down, giving the dog a firm pat on its ribs before stepping off. Duke eagerly moved back to the front, leading his pack. The trail slowly curved away, taking them southwest and farther from the city and congested areas.

  Jacob saw an opening in the trees. James halted the group and slowly edged them out alongside a wide stretch of interstate. The road was now a parking lot. Even if they could find a usable vehicle, this stretch of highway would be impassable.

  Sticking to the tree line and still moving west, they followed the road from a distance. The trees thinned out and the occasional house set back far from the road appeared. Some boarded up but most burnt out or destroyed with broken windows and kicked in doors. James was walking far ahead of them now with Duke close at his side. The dog still occasionally ran off, zigzagging in and out of the parked cars before running in the opposite direction to inspect an empty home or building. If the dog stopped, they all stopped until Duke relaxed and moved on.

  The congested roadway cleared after a large pileup of cars—a rusted hulk of a fire truck flanked by a number of crushed sedans. Near a tow truck with its windows shot out lay a scattering of decomposed bodies, some in uniform. James solemnly crossed through the area then cut across a paved road, halting the patrol at a corner across from a line of cookie-cutter homes, an empty gas station, and a mini-mart.

  As James debriefed Marks on what he wanted to do, Duke sat panting beside the man. Marks nodded in agreement and turned to the others. “We’re going to hold up here for a bit. See if we can find some water and food. Rogers, secure transportation; take Jesse with you. Jacob, you’re on security.”

  The big men took off together to look for a vehicle. Jacob followed the others as they made a direct path for the mini-mart. As they approached, he could see the storefront windows were smashed but the fully stocked shelves showed that nothing had been looted. There had been no time for that; The Darkness had moved into most areas so quickly, people had hid behind locked doors, afraid to go out into the open—even for food. The ones who had taken the chance, and were discovered, were hunted down before they ever made it to the store shelves. James stepped up to the broken door of the shop’s shatterproof glass, now white and crystallized, still held together by the frame.

  The bearded Marine let his rifle hang from the sling and drew his sidearm. He stepped to the door and tugged it open with the ring of a bell hanging just above it. James pressed his back to the door and reached up, snatching down the bell. Searching the area, he found a small can filled with sand and cigarette butts. He slid this to the entrance to hold the door open, and then followed the dog inside.

  Jacob paced out front as the others entered the convenience store. He saw a gas station next door. A car was parked at the pumps with its driver’s door open. Inside, a body lay slumped in the seat, a pistol still clutched in the driver’s left hand with a finger wrapped around the trigger. The gas pump handle lay on the ground near the rear tire, a gas cap to the right of it. Jacob turned to look at the station attendants’ building. A leg propped the door open, a high hee
l lying near its foot. As he contemplated the dried blood that covered the steps, Jacob wondered if The Darkness was responsible for the bloodshed or if people desperate for fuel did it to each other.

  The sound of glass breaking behind him caused him to flinch and turn his attention. Jacob plodded back to the storefront. James was pushing containers of spoiled dairy products out of the way so he could reach the shrink-wrapped cases of bottled water. After he procured a bundle of water, he shambled over the mess and left the store. With Duke just in front of him, James sat on a parking block and ripped the shrink-wrap open. He removed a bottle, tossed it to Jacob then poured another into a container for Duke. Next, James removed his small pack from his back and retrieved a can of dog food. He used his knife to open the can and poured the contents on the ground, watching Duke go at it.

  “Take it easy, boy. James has more where that came from, even if I gotta take less for myself.” He smiled as he held the pack open so Jacob could see several cans of the dog food inside.

  Jacob drained the water bottle and sat on the curb. “Why didn’t you just grab people food and share it with him?”

  The Marine looked up at Jacob, smiling. “Hadn’t thought of that.” He laughed then added sarcastically, “Damn, you’re smart.”

  Jacob shook his head and stood, trying to hold back his own laughter as he wandered into the store to restock his food supplies.

  Chapter 19

  Finishing his third candy bar, Jacob heard the low rumble of a diesel engine. He looked up to see a bright blue crew cab pickup with the window stickers still in place. The truck weaved in and out of cars, driving along the shoulder of the road before Rogers backed it up to the storefront and killed the engine. Jesse jumped from the passenger side, walking directly at several shopping bags filled with goods. He opened a bag and dug through the contents.

  “You all save anything for me?” Jesse said, removing a can of peanuts.

  Stephens walked around the truck, lifted a case of water, and set it in the bed of the pickup. “We loaded up everything we could find. Feel free to make another pass inside.”

  Marks stepped to the side of the large vehicle and put his hand on the highly waxed rail. “Nice wheels; where’d you find it?”

  “Car dealership just up the street. The salesman was willing to let it go cheap,” Rogers said, draining a warm bottle of Gatorade.

  Marks nodded. “Did you get the extended warranty?”

  “Oh yeah, and then some.” Rogers laughed. “Cab will only seat five, but someone can ride in the bed.”

  “I got it—I’ll take the back with Duke,” James said, already tossing his ruck into the truck bed. He lifted Duke in then grabbed the tailgate and, using the bumper, climbed over the rail. Up high in the truck, he surveyed the area before lying down and stretching out across the back. Duke moved up and lay beside him with his head on the man’s chest. James pulled the floppy hat down over his eyes and covered the dog with his arm. “Hell yeah, perfect fit.”

  Jacob helped sort the last of the groceries, breaking things down and stuffing them into their packs. When they finished, he helped load it all. With everything on board, they climbed into the cab and Rogers headed west on the open road.

  The terrain slowly changed as they rolled north; the grass grew long and yellow, the road flanked by tall pine trees. Oaks and poplars were gold and orange with their fall colors. The road opened up with far less traffic and the homes became farther apart. Billboards pointed to tourist spots and gave directions to hotels and restaurants. They drove past an occasional body on the side of the rural highway, or sometimes slowed to look at a burnt out farmhouse.

  Marks rode shotgun with his military map out across the center console. He strained to see road signs as they passed by, stopping at cross streets to compare them to his map. “A street atlas would be nice,” Marks said, trying to plot their current location. “Nobody uses the damn things anymore, relying on their smart phones and navigation systems. Well, lots of good that does us now.”

  Rogers laughed in agreement. “Don’t sweat it, boss; we’ll find the base.”

  Jacob rode in the back seat between Stephens and Jesse. He had his head down, and his rifle was between his knees. The slow going and buzzing sounds of the new tires on the concrete tugged at his eyelids, making his head heavy. He looked left and right and saw his friends both asleep and stopped resisting.

  The truck stopped suddenly, jolting Stephens awake as the side of his head smacked against the window. “What the fu–” he barked. “What happened?”

  Jacob leaned forward and saw what caused Rogers to stop. Just ahead, the road curved right. A large sign welcomed them to a quaint lake town. But what stopped them was beyond that. A long procession of people walked in a double single-file line, traveling right to left, moving across the road toward the lake. Jacob leaned forward and adjusted his view; the line stretched far into the distance.

  “Do they see us?” Jesse whispered. “Why are there so many of them?”

  Rogers put the truck into park and sat silently. “If they don’t, they will soon; if we turn around now they’re going to be on to us,” he said, squeezing the wheel.

  A tapping come from the back window. Jacob leaned forward and strained his neck to see behind him. Rogers pressed a button, opening a window in the rear of the cab. As soon as the window opened, they could hear Duke’s growl.

  “We got company,” James whispered. “Looks like a Delta convention is gathering in town.”

  Behind them and on the right side of the road was a small patrol of Deltas, five walking in a staggered file and headed in their direction, every one of them armed. Farther back, a small SUV hugged the shoulder of the road as it drove slowly, keeping pace with the Delta column. James had his rifle up, leaning on the tailgate for stability.

  Jacob gasped. “What the hell? They’re moving like a military unit.”

  “It happens. Not often, but it happens,” Stephens answered.

  James glanced at Marks. “That truck’s getting closer, L-Tee; give the word, and that driver eats a bullet.”

  Marks looked back and front several times, searching for a way out, struggling to make a split-second, life-or-death decision. “Fuck it, kill him. Take out the vehicle too. Rogers, as soon as that SUV is down, get on the gas and take us off-road. Let’s get some distance before we have to bail out.”

  James leaned into the rifle resting on the tailgate and fired two suppressed rounds in rapid succession. After a brief wait, two holes appeared over the driver’s side of the windshield. The Delta SUV continued forward but veered right, drifting off the road. James shifted and fired three more times and was rewarded with a flash of steam from the vehicle’s radiator. With perfect timing, Rogers stomped the gas and the truck lunged forward. James held the trigger, draining the rest of the magazine into the marching patrol.

  Rogers then cut hard right, smoking the tires and tossing James to the side, forcing him to let go of the rifle and grab on. Rogers jerked the wheel and sped the truck from the roadway. He lost traction in the grass, fishtailing away and throwing mud. The Delta patrol opened fire as the truck sped down a small embankment headed for the far off trees. Rounds smacked the tailgate; others slapped the ground around them. Rogers stayed in control, dropping the vehicle into four-wheel drive as more rounds zipped overhead.

  “There!” Marks shouted, pointing at a small cattle gate with a no trespassing sign hanging over the center of it. Marks slowed as he lined the truck up with the gate yet still hitting it hard enough to snap the gate back but not enough to immobilize the truck. Rounds peppered the tailgate and shattered the rear window. Rogers ducked as he maneuvered the truck onto a well-rutted trail that snaked around and into deeper woods. They rounded a corner then dropped downhill, picking up speed on the muddy path.

  “Oh shit! Hold on!” Rogers shouted.

  Jacob looked ahead and could see that the muddy trail was covered by water. They hit the water hard. The mud explod
ed and wrapped around the front of the truck, covering the windshield. Deeper than it looked, the water rose to the center of the truck’s doors, bogging the vehicle down. Rogers stayed on the gas; he fought the mud as the truck tires spun, searching for traction. The truck fishtailed and sank deeper into the muck.

  Rogers punched the dash and cut the engine.

  “Okay, dismount, fellas,” Marks shouted, throwing his own door open. “Time to beat feet.”

  James was standing in the back tossing the packs to dry ground. Jesse pried the rear door open, throwing his weight against the muddy water. He took a long step into the mud and fought through it to the weed-covered bank. Then turning back, he helped pull Jacob up the slope behind him. The muck permeated his clothes with a skunky, bog water stench.

  They scrambled into their packs and waited for James, rifle across his back and Duke cradled in his arms, as he jumped from the truck. He set the dog down and threw the straps of his own rucksack over his shoulders just as rounds impacted the muddy water. Duke bounced back and forth, agitated by the gunfire.

  James pivoted and adjusted his rifle, firing several times and dropping the only visible attacker. More came into view; Jacob raised his M4, aimed at the center of the group, and pulled the trigger, sending rounds in their direction. Some dropped, but more quickly filled the space. “There’s too many; let’s move!” Marks ordered, forcing them to break contact.

  Rogers led the way. At a near run, he cut through the thick lodge-pole pines, moving the team back into high ground. The terrain was covered now with pine needles with most of the forest floor open. Unlike the thick brush they traveled earlier, this terrain allowed long fields of vision. The soft groundcover cushioned their footfalls and concealed their tracks, making them hard to follow. They changed direction often, trying to lose the pursuers. This forced them further south and away from their destination.