The Invasion Trilogy (Book 2): The Shadows

by W. J. Lundy

  James sniffed and exhaled, fighting back the tears. Lifting his head, he again looked up at the sky. He rolled his shoulders and stretched back, glancing in the direction where Marks and Stephens lay. His lip quivered. “There were so many of them. Everywhere all at once; they surrounded me. I tried to push them off, but they got too damn close and there were too many. They got in the hole. I didn’t ask for help but they came anyway. Marks and Stephens came back to get me. They drew them away from me. I couldn’t… why the hell did they come back?”

  The bearded man shook his head, putting it down again. “I’m done, Jacob. I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said, just above a whisper. “They shouldn’t have come back.”

  Jacob extended his hand, offering James a bottle of water. “Drink, you’ll feel better. You just need to rest.”

  As James took the bottle, he looked at the caked blood on the back of his hands. He drank thirstily then took in a long breath. Closing his eyes tight, he exhaled loudly. “Let’s go back to the cabin; I’ll be okay. You’re right, Jacob. I’m just tired is all.”

  Chapter 25

  Wind blew at the cabin walls, the night air filled with the sounds of creaking branches. James slept in the bottom bunk with Duke curled in a tight ball at his feet. A fire burned in the wood stove, heating the small cabin above the bunker. Jacob was alone now. He was tired and hungry but with his body unwilling to sleep, he paced the cabin floor restlessly. Duke looked up at him with weary eyes. As Jacob moved past him, the dog buried his head in the thick blanket, hiding his face.

  Jesse and Stone were both in the bunker below him, still down from their wounds. Gloria was doing what she could for them, but they would need a doctor soon. She patched them up and stopped the bleeding with what medical supplies they could offer. Rogers spent his time working on the radio, desperate to make contact with the rear. Desperate to call for an extraction.

  Jacob opened the cabin door and stood in the opening, looking out into the surrounding woods. He let the cold breeze hit him in the face, heightening his senses. It was now dark. A bright moon lit the trees in a pale blue light and the snow had stopped falling, the weather turning clear. The dioxin worked. After the attack, the area became clear of them. Any they did see were dead or dying, others vacating the zone immediately around the lake.

  Jacob left the cabin and stepped out onto the small front porch. The poncho-wrapped bodies of Marks and Stephens lay side by side, a stark reminder of the price they paid. If they couldn’t reach command tonight, they would bury them in the morning. Rogers had helped him recover the bodies. They wrapped them and returned them to the cabin one at a time without speaking. Neither man could muster the strength or courage to bury their friends yet. Now they lay beside him on the porch, and Jacob still didn’t have words for them. Stephens brought him here and was with him since Chicago, and now he was gone, like Murphy before him.

  A scream far in the distance spooked him, the sound echoing off the trees. They were waking up. He gripped his rifle and backed into the doorway, pausing to take another look at the tree line before retreating inside and bolting the heavy lock behind him. Jacob looked at James. The Marine’s head was to the side, and he was snoring loudly. His beard matted, flecks of dried blood still on his forehead. Jacob stepped lightly beyond him and opened the door to the bunker then walked into the dark stairway.

  At the bottom, a gas lantern glowed, reflecting a soft orange light off the walls and ceiling and making the space feel smaller than it was. He found Stone sitting alone in an old wooden kitchen chair, his leg wrapped in fresh white bandages. Jacob turned to the far wall where he spotted Jesse. He was asleep in the lone bed along the far side; his neck was covered in gauze, a red spot marking the location of the wound. Stone waved a hand at Jacob, pointing at a chair.

  “Have a seat, son,” he said. “Join me for a bit.”

  Jacob crossed the open space and dropped into the old wooden chair beside the man. Stone took a pull off an amber-colored bottle then stuck a cork in the top and passed it on. Jacob held the bottle in his hand and, turning it, looked at a label he didn’t recognize. He wasn’t much of a whiskey drinker… he wasn’t much of a drinker at all outside of the occasional beer on a hot day.

  “It’s vintage, but not necessarily good,” Stone said without emotion. “Go on, trust me, it’ll help you feel better.”

  Jacob pulled the cork. He sniffed the strong contents and took a long sip before pulling away with a deep cough. He managed to hold the harsh liquid down, blinking his eyes rapidly while the burn passed.

  The red door opened. Gloria, Stone’s wife, walked into the large room. She spied the bottle and twisted her face. “I told you that’s not good for your bleeding, Henry,” she scolded.

  “It’s not me; the kid here brought it with him. I ain’t had a drop.”

  She shot Jacob a cross look and shook her head. She moved to Jesse’s side and checked the man’s bandage. After pulling away the gauze and applying a new one, she adjusted his blanket, tucking it under the sleeping man’s arms. Gloria moved into the kitchen area and removed a large pot of coffee and several tin cups, setting them on the table.

  She looked back at Stone. “Don’t stay up too late, Henry; you need your rest,” she said before returning to the red door.

  “She’s good one, but damn she can nag up something fierce,” Stone said, watching the door to make sure it didn’t reopen before he snatched back the bottle. He took another long pull of the whiskey. “There’s plenty of room back there, ya know. We can fix you a spot if ya want. Gloria would like it; she enjoys a full house, even if it is just a bunkhouse full of stinking soldiers.”

  Jacob laughed. “I’m fine out here or up in the cabin. I don’t want to intrude on your family. We’ll stay out here and keep watch for you all; it’s the least we can do.”

  Stone sat quietly, looking at the wall. He took another sip of the whiskey before passing it back. “I’ve never seen anything like that today, even back in Nam. The way they came at us like rabid animals. You’d think after the last few months, nothing could surprise me anymore. But that… even back when all this shit started it was nothing like that, and I’ve witnessed my share of the hordes.” Stone looked down at his folded hands, shaking his head.

  “The family here, we had it easy all things considered; better than folks in the city, anyway. I had a friend in St. Louis. He had his own connection and was able to give us some early warning, posted a message online right after the first of those meteor showers. He let us know the stories were true; you know, about the takings, that the riot stories were all bullshit.

  “He was updating us on the real deal before the government was even admitting something was wrong. I told Gloria we couldn’t take the chance on it all blowing over or being contained in the west the way the news people said it would. We made a vacation out of it; invited the kids up here to the old homestead for some family time. Schools and most jobs were closed anyway, so it was easy to sell them on it.

  “This place used to belong to my granddad. It was a big farmhouse back in the day. Two-story home built over a full cellar—used to be full of potatoes and canned goods when I was a kid. My father inherited the place; he’s the one that had all of this improved. He cleaned up and reinforced the basement walls with block. Added the extended room back there as an underground bunk house.

  “He let the house above go; he always had a notion something like this would happen and he wanted a safe place for his family. He was planning on an atom bomb though; you know, back when the cold war was in full freeze. I bought it from him after I retired. Tore the house down and put the small cabin up top. Only way I could get Gloria to go along with it. She called it our cottage and rolled her eyes at all of this prepper stuff down here.

  “The kids love the cottage. It was easy enough to get them to come up here for a spontaneous vacation, but I think they suspected it would only be for a week, two at the most. We spent those first days fishing and rel
axing. But every day became a reminder that something really bad was coming. The radio and satellite TV gave dire reports of what was going on in the big cities: Chicago, Detroit, and Indianapolis. It was getting closer and all around us. We decided to close up the homestead. We left the trucks down on the road, covered everything up with brush, ran the trip wire around the property line, and shuttered the windows.

  “A few days later, I heard the first gunshots and the screaming from over the hill. I took the boys with me and we watched them take the town; we laid up from that same lake view trail that we used against them yesterday. Couldn’t believe my eyes at how fast it spread. The boys and I couldn’t just sit there. We tried to stop some of ‘em. Used the usual tactics—ambushes on the road, set traps, shot at them from the hills to try and slow them down. We killed far more than our share. But for every one we killed, more came in to replace them.

  “Eve heard about the ponds over the VHF. We confirmed it a day later down at the East Bay; we saw them dragging people to the water. It got too hairy for us after that. They seemed to be looking for us. The things started spending more time out here in the woods, hunting for survivors. It was like they knew we were here somewhere. We decided we’d stretched our luck to the limits and voted to lay low and hide, wait for the military to retake control. We stayed locked up in the cabin most of the time, and always at night. Only making runs into town for essentials. The boys, well they—”

  Jacob held the bottle, taking another sip, which was easier this time. “I’m sorry about your sons.”

  Stone nodded, looking away. “You know, some people think losing someone you love is the most painful thing you can experience in your life. It’s not. It’s hard, but the pain will fade,” Stone said, looking at the red door. “The real pain is knowing that when the Devil comes down those stairs for the ones you love, there isn’t shit you’ll be able to do to protect them from it. I live with that every day. How will I protect those kids back there? I don’t know, Jacob. What will I do when they come for us?”

  Jacob swallowed hard and looked away. He took a third sip, this one longer, now finding the bourbon smooth. The pain in his body relaxing, he slouched in his chair and stared into the lantern. Rogers wended toward them from the darkened corner of the room. He rummaged over the table and filled a small tin cup with coffee before moving closer to the other men and taking a seat. He reached over, grabbed the bottle from Jacob, and topped off the cup before setting the bottle on the floor.

  “Radio is sending fine, but nobody is picking up,” Rogers said. “I think I’ll go on alone tomorrow. I can move faster and send help back for you.”

  “Where exactly will you go?” Stone asked.

  Jacob, suddenly caught off guard, didn’t know the answer to the question. He looked at Rogers, waiting for a response.

  Rogers put the cup to his lips and took a sip. “I guess I’ll continue driving north; find that comms tower on the Army base. Try to reach command and get a ride out of here then send a bird back for you all.”

  Stone chewed his lower lip and used a hand to rub his tired eyes. “I’ve been thinking about that—this Army base. It doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “How so?” Rogers asked.

  “For starters, Grayling is even farther away. Why would you want to go farther if you can’t send a message from here? There’s a local state police post in town. I’d bet they have just as good a radio tower—hell, maybe better. I know they can hit patrol cars a good distance upstate.”

  Rogers took another sip, thinking about what the old man had said. “This police station, is it close to the lake? You sure it’s still intact?”

  “I’m sending Eve to town in the morning. I want to make sure those things are gone. She can take you to the station to have a look.”

  Chapter 26

  Jacob opened his eyes, trying to remember where he was. It was dark, but the silence had ended. The noise outside reminded him that he was in hell; the constant calling, the high-pitched screams. The Darkness, Deltas, the black-eyed bastards—whatever they hell they chose to call them—were out there, wounded and blinded. They were emerging from their dens, or wherever they spent their days, to howl, hunt, and feed. Except tonight they came out screaming. He’d heard them crying out in the night before, but this was different; this wasn’t the typical moan of the hunters. It was agony. They were out there dying and suffering the effects of the dioxin.

  He lay on the top bunk, listening to their cries. He tried to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, their screams entered his dreams. He felt James shift below him, the big man tossing in the bottom bunk. “You awake?” James whispered.

  “I am. You feeling all right?”

  “I woke up a few hours ago. Warm and soft in this bed. The night was quiet. I tried telling myself this was all just a bad dream. But then that started,” James whispered.

  Jacob swallowed hard and squirmed in the top rack, sitting up against the wall. He didn’t respond. He just sat with his back to the cedar planks, listening to the moans outside and wondering if they were close. If they would be safe if they tried to enter the cabin again.

  “We hurt them today, Jacob. We hurt ‘em bad and they know it,” James said, getting up from the bed. “That’s what you hear; that’s how they mourn over a healthy ass-kicking.” James moved across the room and stopped to feed more wood into the stove. As he adjusted the flue, the flames grew, filling the one-room cabin with an eerie yellow light. Duke got up and edged close to the stove, stretching before moving in a circle. Then, stopping by the door, he sniffed the air entering from outside; his ears perked, then relaxed. Finally, the yellow dog moved and lay by the warmth of the fire.

  James slid a chair away from the wall. He lifted his uniform from a hook and pulled on his pants and jacket. He lifted his rifle, looking it over before removing the night vision goggles from his pack.

  “What are you doing?” Jacob asked. “You aren’t thinking of going out there?”

  James yanked on his heavy boots, pulled the speed laces tight, and then put on a pair of green leather shooting gloves. “I’m going hunting; finishing what we started today.”

  “Alone?”

  “No, Duke is coming. He still has scores to settle too,” James said, standing up. He placed the NVGs onto the top of his head. Reaching down, he retrieved his tactical vest and pulled it on over his shoulders. He looked down, checking the straps and ammo pouches on the front before slipping the Ruger MK III back into its holster.

  “James, I think you should stay. You don’t have to do this; there’s nothing out there that can change what happened today,” Jacob protested, already knowing it wouldn’t do any good.

  The bearded man smiled before turning and walking to the door. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll be back when the sun comes up.” James unlatched the door and slowly opened it, letting the cold air enter the room. He took a step and stood in the doorway. “Can you feel it, Jacob? Oh, I do, and I’m going to go get me some. We’re going to take what’s ours, ain’t we, Duke?” The dog leapt to his feet and joined the man’s side. Without speaking another word, James dropped into the night, closing the door behind him.

  Jacob was wide-awake now. He regretted not doing more to stop him, or even leaving with him. He sat against the cedar boards, listening to the howls outside, the evil screams. He thought he heard a distant bark, and then a gunshot split the night air. He strained, listening for a sign that James was okay. He debated waking Rogers to go out after him. Moments later, another shot, followed by another, the last being even more distant than the first.

  Jacob shifted and dropped down from the top bunk, moving to a chair by the stove, knowing he wouldn’t sleep anymore; not this day. He retrieved his pack and took several aspirin from his hygiene kit, trying to cover the headache from the bad whiskey. He opened a case of water sitting in the corner, removed a bottle, and guzzled down the entire thing before opening another and setting it on a table beside him.

&
nbsp; A creaking at the stairs took his attention. He looked up, seeing Rogers enter the room. The big man was carrying a cast-iron skillet filled with fried potatoes. He looked down at the empty rack, then at Jacob sitting alone by the stove. Rogers shook his head as he stepped across the room.

  “James went out, did he?” he said, not really asking, no look of surprise on his face. He set the skillet atop the wood stove and set a pair of plates on the table. He served up a large portion before handing it off to Jacob.

  “I don’t know what he’s doing out there; he wasn’t being reasonable. I should have gone with him.”

  Rogers sat heavily in an empty seat and looked at the wood-covered window. “How long has he been out there?”

  “Not long,” Jacob said, pushing potatoes across his plate with a fork.

  Another gunshot cracked in the distance. “This is the way he deals with his despair. It’s his own twisted version of therapy,” Rogers whispered. “Back at the camp, I’ve seen him do this in the towers. He’ll go up there for hours. I made the mistake of going with him once. He won’t talk about it. He just perches himself up there, getting even. He thinks he can fix everything by getting even. He’ll come back; he always does.”

  They sat quietly listening to the echoes of the gunshots and the howls of the Deltas. Jacob finished the potatoes, forcing every bite. He had no appetite but knew he needed the calories. Rogers offered him more, but he pushed the plate away. “How long have you known him?” Jacob asked.

  “Not long, but like all things, time is relative. You go out on a mission with a guy, after a week you feel like you’ve know him your whole life. James is different but he’s good people.”

  Sun broke the horizon and light cut through the bottom of the door. Eve exited the stairwell and joined them in the cabin above. She was wearing a heavy parka and gloves, a black watch cap pulled tight over her long hair. She carried a small assault pack in her hand. Looking at the empty rack and men sitting alone, she moved to the wall and set her pack and rifle beside the exit. There was a noise outside and heavy steps on the wood porch. When the door creaked opened, Duke rounded the corner, wagging his tail, with James following him.