The Invasion Trilogy (Book 2): The Shadows

by W. J. Lundy

  After running nearly a mile through the pine forest, Rogers called them to a resting halt. The men dropped to the ground, hiding in any sparse cover they could find, breathing heavily trying to listen for sounds that the Deltas were still in pursuit. The gunfire had stopped. No trace of the moaning or sounds of vehicle engines. They looked at Duke for signs; the dog was sitting calmly next to James, panting. His nose was in the air, sniffing, but its ears were relaxed.

  “They know we’re here. They won’t stop looking,” Stephens said. “Let’s keep moving.”

  Rogers traded out the point position with James, allowing him and Duke to lead them out. They cut a diagonal path through the pine forest, trying to intersect with a game or recreational trail that would lead them north. Moving farther west, James stepped them into a dry streambed. He turned to follow it until the ground became wet. The damp, sandy soil made it easier to travel but also left heavy, easy-to-follow boot prints. They hurried across it and moved farther north through sparse woods. They stayed just below a ridgeline until they crossed a hilltop and found a well-marked lake view hiking trail. James cautiously led them onto the hard-packed trail. From there, they could clearly see the distant lake, the water holding a jet-black sheen. The town far below was filled with the Deltas.

  “That explains the mass on the road,” Rogers said. “Looks like we got ourselves a mega seed pond… or hell, mega seed lake, even.”

  “Nothing we can do about it. Let’s get some distance on this place,” Marks said, pushing them on. “We can’t afford to get into a fight with these numbers.”

  At the top of the hill, the trail cut sharply again, moving them down and to the south in the wrong direction. James slowed and navigated the terrain before throwing a fist in the air. Jacob strained to see over James’s shoulder to find out why he had stopped them.

  At the bottom of the hill, he spotted movement—a flash of white fabric. Jacob ignored the halt and stepped just behind James, straining his eyes to get a better look. He spotted her; she was standing straight up, wearing khaki cargo pants and a camouflage parka. She had a rifle slung over her right shoulder while waving a white flag with her left hand.

  Jacob felt the others move up, gathering around him at the top of the hill. “Damn, is that a woman? What’s she doing way out here?”

  Chapter 20

  The men bunched up on the slope, staring down at her. Tall with broad shoulders, she wore an army patrol cap with aviator sunglasses. The girl was younger than Jacob, mid- to late-twenties, but stood with the confidence that gave her the appearance of being much older. She didn’t flinch or hesitate as the men approached. She stood with her feet shoulder-width apart and arms folded in front of her.

  Seeing them move closer, she tossed the white flag to the ground and unslung her rifle, putting it into low carry with the barrel pointed down. Not threatening, but not overly inviting either. Jacob had seen enough bad war movies to recognize the AK47 with a thirty-round magazine. On her hip was a long Bowie knife, and tucked into a shoulder holster under her left arm, she carried a black semi-automatic handgun.

  “Dibs,” James, said walking forward, letting Duke lead them.

  “Bullshit,” Rogers mumbled. “You got the dog. Boss, you think we can trust her?”

  Marks stalked close behind them, speaking low as they approached. “Let’s see what she has to say. Right now, we are the group of strange men and she is the lone female. For some reason, she chose to trust us.”

  “Yeah, that’s what worries me,” Rogers said.

  Marks shrugged in agreement. “If it goes south, we kill her and stick to the original plan.”

  James stopped and looked back at them. “Come on now, you can’t shoot my girlfriend on the first date,” he protested.

  The team continued walking down the steep trail. When they were within fifty feet, she put up her palm, halting them. “That’s close enough. Who are you and why are you stirring up the natives? You’ve made enough damn noise to spin up every black eye in the county.” Her voice was quiet, yet assertive. Duke continued forward and walked around her, sniffing her legs and ankles before stopping and sitting at her feet.

  James opened his mouth to speak but stopped when Marks put a hand on his shoulder. “Excuse me, ma’am, we’re with the United States Armed Forces. A small recon team,” he said. “We are here to—”

  She shook her head, giving half a smile. “Nah… there is no US Armed Forces anymore. Who you are? And don’t lie. I have shooters in the trees just waiting for a reason to take you down.”

  “Oh boy, I think I’m in love,” James said.

  Marks put his hands in the air, stepping in front of James, pushing the Marine back. “It’s true. We are with the US Armed Forces, operating out of Canada. We were on a recon mission south of here when we ran into trouble. Had some trouble with the radio so we’re trying to make our way north.”

  “All of you? You’re all military?” she asked, eyeballing Jacob.

  Marks cleared his throat and waved his hand around the group, making brief introductions. “James is with the Marines, Rogers is an Army vet. Stephens is also Army. I’m with the Air Force. Jesse and Jacob there are—hell, I don’t know what to call them. Let’s say conscripts.”

  “Conscripts? What, like they were drafted?” she asked.

  “Something like that. We do what we have to these days,” Marks said.

  She looked the men over, seeming to focus on their matching uniforms and equipment. “Okay, follow me and stay close.”

  James jumped forward, extending his hand. She brushed him off. “We need to hurry before they pick up your trail; they’ll be coming through this way soon.” She moved out quickly, leaving James dumbstruck with his hand still extended. The men passed by James, slapping him on the shoulder as he mockingly grabbed at his heart. Duke moved by his side, looking up at him as the others passed.

  She moved them fast over what looked like a well-worn game trail, except this one had seen a lot of human traffic. The surface was packed earth, occasionally turning to stone. Some places were even built up and compacted with logs and brick. She veered them off the trail, moving downhill into thicker cover and heavy underbrush. She moved at nearly a jog, the speed making it impossible to communicate. Because of the pace, Jacob doubted her story of the far-off shooters. If there were any in the trees, they would have lost them. Or she was running them into a trap.

  They came out of the underbrush onto a small, recreational, two-track trail that looked like it had once been used for all-terrain vehicles. She followed the trail for a few hundred yards then turned north, marching them up a steep incline. The top leveled out into a high overlook; here she finally stopped the vigorous pace. She moved to a moss-covered log and lifted back a green tarp. Underneath was a gallon water jug. Jacob also spotted several rifle magazines for her AK and a tactical tomahawk. She removed the jug and took a long drink of water before passing it to Marks.

  “There aren’t any shooters are there. Who are you?” Marks asked as he passed the jug to Stephens.

  She ignored the question. When everyone had a drink, she placed the jug back under the tarp, pushing dried leaves and pine needles back in place to conceal the cover. “We have to keep moving. It’s not safe here with the increase in activity. Come on; the camp is this way.”

  They moved slower now. She led them over the soft needles, crisscrossing the undergrowth of the forest floor, leaving no discernible trail. James, with Duke beside him, worked his way back to the front. “I didn’t catch your name,” he said, moving beside the woman without taking his eyes off the surrounding forest.

  She hesitated then looked at him briefly. “Name’s Eve,” she said, stepping slightly ahead and avoiding a follow-up question. Jacob roved near the back, where he could see that Stephens and Marks were constantly exchanging looks. Occasionally, Rogers would move close to them and flash a number of fingers or some other sign. Jacob looked over at Jesse, who was walking next to him. The bi
g man shrugged his shoulders. Jacob watched as James pursued, sticking close to the woman as the others seemed to plan their next move.

  James looked back at the rest of the team now that he was leading far ahead and walking beside the strange woman. He turned back to her. “So where are you taking us?”

  She suddenly stopped and looked them over, allowing them to move close and gather around her. James stopped and stood beside her, as if he’d already picked a side and was on her new team. He knelt down and stroked Duke’s head as he waited for her to speak. “Something is happening and it’s been happening fast. They are congregating around the lake, their numbers growing every day, and it makes it hard enough to get supplies without people like you stirring them up. Just ahead is my father’s hunting cabin. He won’t be happy to see you. I was out gathering supplies when I heard the shooting, and it was probably stupid on my part to bring you back.”

  “Okay, slow down, miss. What hunting cabin?” Marks asked.

  She curled her lip like she had something to hide. “You’ll see. Come on, it’s just this way.”

  She led them down another slope then through a large thicket, slowing them before pointing down at the ground. “Watch your step.” Just a foot off the forest floor was a tightly strung strand of barbed wire.

  Jacob stopped to follow the wire’s path; it seemed to go on forever, wrapped around the base of the trees. Just yards past the wire, the thick brush opened up into a clearing. The ground was covered with dried leaves and sparse spots of long grass. There was no road or driveway, and there were no vehicles. At the end of the clearing, was a modest one-room cabin with the door shut and heavy shutters in place. Beyond that, alone in the forest clearing, was a rustic red barn that seemed out of place. Jacob looked at it and turned to Jesse. “Not much here,” Jacob whispered.

  She led them to the small front porch of the cabin and opened the door, allowing them to enter. It was dimly lit by a glass skylight and smelled of wood smoke. It seemed even smaller inside. Pine planks covered every surface. A cold woodstove was in the corner with a pile of pine boards next to it. There was also a set of bunk beds and, in the peaked ceiling, a loft—no kitchen or bathroom in sight. A small rustic dining set filled a corner with a set of wooden chairs pressed against a wall. Eve moved in past them and paused at a corner, waiting for them all to come inside before she opened a closet door that revealed a set of plank stairs that led down to a cellar.

  She turned and disappeared below. James followed her, staying close behind. What Jacob thought was a cellar opened up into a long rectangle with another doorway in the back. The room was over twenty feet wide and thirty feet long with cinderblock walls. Looking up, the high ceiling appeared to be poured concrete. LED lights were draped across steel I-beams, lighting the room.

  They moved down and gathered at the bottom of the stairs. Looking around the space, Jacob spotted what appeared to be two of every kind of weapon known to man. On another wall was a long, steel shelf loaded with boxes of ammunition. Near the front was a small utilitarian kitchen, stainless steel counters, and appliances. A small dining area was just across from it.

  “Who is this woman?” Jacob whispered.

  Eve minced along a wall, stopping beside a bed, where a large, gray-haired, bearded man was asleep; she sat in a chair beside the bed, pulling a thick blanket back from his chest and coaxed the old man awake. He woke coughing profusely before suddenly spotting the men in the room. “Dammit Eve—” His coughing caused him to turn to his side. She handed him a glass of water, which he sipped down. “Get me a cigarette,” he said.

  Eve shook her head no and helped him sit up. “Eve, who the hell are they? What did I tell you about bringing back strangers?”

  A red door at the back of the room opened. Probably drawn by the voices and the old man’s hacking, a young girl, less than ten years old, peeked out. She looked at the new faces then back to the woman. “Is Grandpa okay?” she asked.

  Eve nodded her head. “He’s fine, and I’ll be back in a minute to see you.”

  The little girl turned to look at the strangers before pulling back into the room and closing the door. The old man coughed again then pushed himself upright. He shoved the blanket away from his chest and turned in the bed so that he looked like he was about to stand. “So what the hell are they doing here?” he asked her.

  “Dad, we need help; you’re sick and the kids can’t stay here in this shelter forever. If these guys have a way out, we should go with them. It’s been over three months—we’ve had enough, Dad.” She turned and moved toward the red door. “I’m going to check on Mom and the others.”

  The old man laughed and coughed again. “Three months—I built this place to last three years, and already they’re wanting to hang it up. I got a mutiny on my hands.” The man lifted himself to his feet after putting on a pair of slippers. Ignoring the watching men, he shuffled across the floor to a kitchen counter where he poured hot water into a cup and added tea bags. He turned and faced the men.

  “Don’t listen to my daughter. I ain’t sick; it’s just a cold, and she ain’t going nowhere.” The man moved closer to the group. As he stood, they all noticed a 1911 stuffed into a paddle holster on his waistband. He waved them to a far end of the shelter where a long wooden table with chairs around it was positioned. The old man found his way and sat down. “Go on, drop your packs and have a seat.”

  Eve re-entered the room from the back, quietly closing the door behind her. The old man watched her walk toward them and looked up at her. “Eve, get these fellas something to eat,” he ordered, causing displeasure to cross her face. She shook her head then moved along the wall, leaned against it, and ignored her father’s request.

  Marks dropped his pack near the wall and took a seat, smiling. “Sir, it’s quite all right, she’s already done plenty.” He scooted in the chair so that he was just across from the old man. He stretched his arm across the table. “I’m Lieutenant Jeffrey Marks, United States Air Force.”

  The man took another sip of his tea. “Yeah, I assumed you were military by the uniforms. You can call me Stone. I’m retired Army and this is… well, was my best-kept secret. Now, I’m not sure what you men are doing here, or why she brought you; maybe you could fill me in.”

  Marks leaned back in his chair and looked around the room. “Well… to be honest with you, sir, we were doing all right on our own. Making good time on the trail, trying to get to our next way—”

  The woman interrupted. “They were on the trail to Denton.”

  The old man let out a hacking laugh. “Hell, you’re lucky she came along then. Denton Shore is overrun—hell, worse than that—it’s a hot bed. These things are coming in from all over to get to Denton. You’d a never made it out of there.”

  “What do you mean?” Marks asked suspiciously.

  Eve pushed off from the counter and moved back to the table. “They’ve been migrating to there by the thousands. Don’t know why, but it started a little over a month ago. They go down to the water and wade out in it, just standing out there before moving on.”

  “You got close enough to verify it?” Marks asked.

  Eve rolled her eyes. “You were close enough to verify it, if you’d bothered to look around. Didn’t you notice anything unusual on the road? All the traffic moving to the lake?” She shook her head, waiting for his response. “The East Bay, where you all came in”—she slammed a fist on the counter, raising her voice—“is full of them and you idiots damn near drove right down their throats. Then you turned and left, and led the entire pack this way. Hell, didn’t you notice the water is black? I’ve spotted columns of movement every day coming from all directions.” She turned and looked at the old man. “Daddy, we need to leave. They’re getting closer to this place by the hour, and they only made it worse.”

  The old man put a hand up; he looked up as the red door opened again. This time, an older woman with blue hair pulled tightly back, wearing oversized clothing and a button-u
p, dark-blue sweater ushered out, smiling. She held a large pot and was followed by a boy carrying plastic bowls.

  “Really, it’s okay, ma’am,” Marks said, putting up a hand, feeling uncomfortable by Eve’s sudden outburst.

  The old woman shook off the comment. “Oh no, we feed our guests, young man,” she said, moving forward, placing the large pot on a counter. “The kids already ate and there’s plenty.” She took a ladle from a drawer and filled the bowls. “Remember when we’d have all the guys over for dinner, Henry? It sure has been a while since we had a house full of soldiers,” she said with a smile.

  Henry Stone laughed and slid his chair back, reaching for a pot. He added more hot water to his cup. “Been twenty years at least.”

  “We take care of our own though, don’t we, Henry?” she said.

  The old man grinned. “Yeah, guess we do. Boys, this is my wife, Gloria, and my grandson Billy.”

  The men around the table nodded as the boy handed out bowls of potato soup. Marks took a bowl and after a heaping spoonful, he looked back at Stone. “Sir, do you have a radio? We really need to get north and contact our command. Maybe there’s something we can do to help.”

  The man coughed into a napkin and shook his head, pointing at a black box near a small table in a corner. “Had one, but lost it. Thing cooked itself; probably dirty power from the generator. Still have the receiver if you think you can get it working.”

  Marks nodded to Rogers, who wiped his face with a napkin and stepped off toward the radio, taking the bowl with him. Marks looked back to the front. “You seem well armed. How many people you got here?”

  The man nodded and, looking at the shelves lining the walls, said, “The guns? Just part of my collection. I have more in the field. Don’t worry about any of that; it’s just the three of us and the five grandkids.

  “So tell me, son, where exactly are you headed?” he asked before Marks could follow up with another question.

  Marks hesitated, looking back to Stephens, who shrugged. “What harm’s it gonna do now?”