Invasion: The complete three book set

by J. F. Holmes

  “What did he say?” asked Major Ikeda.

  “She said ‘So long, and thanks for all the fish!’” The diver laughed again, muttered “smartasses” and put the regulator in her mouth. With a flip of her fins, she dove down to join her partner, and disappeared from sight.

  The two men raised the sail, and caught the divine wind.

  Chapter 15

  Upstate New York, Invy Village outside the ruins of Binghamton

  The bodies hanging outside the village limits had started to rot quickly in the July heat. Around their necks hung signs that said “TERRORISTS”. There was one man and one woman. Their gender was obvious, because both were naked with their hands bound behind their backs. Neither had ears, the Wolverines had taken them as trophies before they had hung them for their masters. Their eyes were also gone; the aliens considered them delicacies and removed them from live victims.

  Corporal Griffin and Private Drummond walked slowly past, trying to act like interested travelers, and at the same time not show any real reaction. The hanging bodies were friends of theirs, homesteaders; they had stayed with them at their house outside town while passing through on the way north. They had been part of 3rd Battalion, 9th Special Forces, Team 349, assigned to this village of five thousand.

  The A-Teams numbered between six and twelve, and worked as three man units, living and blending in with the inhabitants of the Invy controlled towns. Their jobs were to gather Intel, and disrupt Invy and collaborator operations, making them look like accidents or the work of lone wolf attacks.

  “I guess they got caught doing something they shouldn’t,” said Drummond, who had spent the last decade living in the ruins of Scranton, and had little experience with the Invy, other than avoiding their patrols.

  A man wearing the green armband of the New Earth Militia answered, “Damn straight. They were distributing subversive environmental literature to children.”

  “Well shit, then they deserved what they got,” said Griffin. “You know, that uniform looks pretty good on you, soldier. Where can I get one?”

  The man smiled, and Griffin looked him over. He actually DID look pretty good. He didn’t have that pinched, starved expression common to most people in what was left of America, and she hated him even further for it.

  “Come on, sis. We gotta find a room for the night,” said Drummond, pulling at her arm.

  The man smiled again and said, “Stick around, you might only have to pay for a room for yourself, son.”

  Despite the dirt of travel, Griffin would turn any man’s head. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore just a spaghetti strap tank top in the July heat, showing off a body that had been made hard serving in the scouts. She knew it, and used it to her advantage whenever she was in a town.

  “Come ON!” said Drummond, playing at the irritated younger brother. “We gotta register at the Traffic Control Point before dark.”

  “Come on back later, I get done at eight,” said the Greenie, and Griffin gave him a noncommittal maybe while batting her eyes.

  They kicked the horses into a slow walk, and took in the rest of the town as they rode. “Jesus, this place looks like Bartertown.”

  “All we need is guys with Mohawks and hockey pads. Do we have to be here?” said Drummond. Being around this many people made him uncomfortable.

  “Well, since our contacts aren’t exactly going to be able to meet us, being dead and all, we gotta stay at the traveler’s barracks.”

  “You could always stay with your Greenie buddy back there,” he shot back. “You’re always talking about how environmentalism isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

  “Aw, Abe, are you jealous?” she answered, leaning forward a little bit to show her cleavage to him.

  “Ugh. You’re like my sister.”

  “I AM your sister, don’t you forget it,” she answered, “I’m not against environmentalism. The world was getting pretty trashed before the Invy came, you know that. I just believe that it was humanity’s problem to figure out, and they didn’t have to kill seven billion of us to fix it.”

  A dangerous glint came into her eyes, and she continued, “And I hate the bastards who betray their race to get more food and healthcare. Maybe I WILL go meet up with that scumbag and see how green his blood is.”

  Despite his inexperience, Drummond knew that she would do no such thing. Their mission, to get back to Scranton and report on the scout team finding General Warren, was absolute priority, no matter what the local situation was.

  “Come on, Jen. We gotta register and then get some food.”

  She grumbled, but kept her horse heading down the main street toward the Invy Traffic Control Point. They arrived there quickly; anyone not registered by nightfall would be shot on sight. They passed various groups of people going about their business, but they seemed subdued and sullen. At one point a combined Wolverine/Green patrol ambled by, three of the aliens accompanied by three humans carrying assault rifles. The Wolverines ignored them, but the Greenies looked them up and down, especially at Griffin. “Goddamned bullies,” she muttered under her breath.

  At the station, they dismounted and tied up their horses, then checked their weapons with the human guard at the door. Inside, electric light hummed brightly, and they joined the line of people who were getting scanned into the system.

  “Name, relation, destination,” asked the bored woman at the counter.

  “Jen Horowitz, Abe Horowitz, siblings, heading to Maryland to join a town. We got tired of living out in the wild.”

  “I don’t give a shit what your problems are,” the woman answered in a bored tone. “Reason for staying tonight?” she continued in a monotone.

  “Need food and supplies,” Jen answered back in the same monotone. She stepped up to the line, and a red light blinked. Then Drummond did the same.

  “DNA scan next, place your finger here,” said the woman. They both did, giving a drop of blood each.

  A few seconds passed, then the woman leaned over and motioned to the nearest Wolverine guard, which had been grooming itself in the corner. The alien stood up and shuffled over, then looked at the screen, and Griffin felt an icy chill run down her spine. Her hand inched to the short ceramic knife, hidden in her belt. but the creature yipped once, and waved dismissively.

  The woman turned the screen to them, and said, “Your DNA does not match as siblings. Explain.”

  “Our parents took us in after the war. We’re both adopted. Both of our families were killed, and our adoptive parents died last year from starvation. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” she said, a bit spitefully. She was getting way too into her cover story.

  “Jen, the woman is just doing her job. Are we done here, Ma’am?”

  The woman, who was quite overfed, just gave Griffin a spiteful glare and handed them two IDs to wear. “You have twenty-four hours; you can get either private lodging or stay in the transient quarters, and there is a mandatory environmental reeducation class that you will have to take if you stay longer. NEXT!” she called loudly, sounding like a bullfrog.

  Outside, out of earshot of the guards, Drummond swore. “Jesus, I thought we were goners. Were you TRYING to piss that woman off?”

  “There’s only one way to deal with a bureaucrat. Give them what they want to hear. She expected a little lip, it’s what those toads live for.”

  “Yeah, well, I about shit myself when that Wolverine came over,” he answered.

  “Abe, you gotta remember. The Invy are arrogant, and although their info systems are lightning fast and huge, they only get the results out that we give them. You and I were never scanned by their patrols, and there’s hundreds of thousands of people who haven’t been. From here on out, though, we need to stick with that story. We’re a bit operationally compromised.”

  He agreed, but they were out of food and in a hurry; the nearest cache was fifty miles out of their way. The town was the only place to get resupplied, and their ho
rses were worn out. They had ridden hard in the last two days, and the contacts that they had expected to make outside of town were hanging from nooses at the main gate.

  “How about we just get a good night’s sleep in a bed and then GTFO early in the morning,” he asked.

  “Oh no, son. We’re scouts, and we need info. And beer,” she added, slowing her horse in front of a building with a signboard swinging overhead. An emerald colored dragon painted on the boards swung listlessly in the heat, and from inside came scattered snatches of song playing from some kind of jukebox.

  “Great,” Drummond murmured, and followed her into the pub.

  Chapter 16

  It was bright inside, brighter than the fading day outside. The electric lights; she just wasn’t used to them anymore. The Green Dragon was an alternate contact point for the local A-Team; word could be left there with the owner, and someone would find them.

  “Isn’t this a Greenie hangout?” asked Drummond, pointing to the painting on the wall.

  “Look a little closer,” answered Griffin, and he did. It DID show an emerald colored dragon on the wall, but on closer inspection, several Wolverines and a Dragon were meeting a pretty gruesome death. He smiled, but then put on a stone face when he turned back and saw several men wearing the green armband sitting at a table and drinking.

  Griffin did the same, ignoring the catcalls from the obviously drunken militiamen. She sat down at the bar and ordered a beer from the large man cleaning glasses at the counter. Two frosted mugs appeared and both took a long drink. Griffin exchanged glances with the bar man, and then discretely extended one finger. The bartender made an imperceptible nod, waited a few minutes, then stepped into a back room. He reappeared a minute later carrying another keg of beer, but Jen knew that he had just talked to a runner or messenger.

  “Holy crap, that’s good,” said the younger scout. He had never had a cold beer before; even at the Main Force base he had trained at, electricity was a closely guarded and rarely used commodity.

  “Yeah, that does go down easy!” said Griffin.

  “Know what else does?” said one of the militia, who had sat down at the bar next to her. He was big, beefy, and well fed. Hell, he even smelled good; must take a shower every day.

  “Gee, I don’t know, what does?” she answered, rolling her eyes.

  “A farm girl in town looking for food!” he completed, and burst into laughter. His friends at the table joined him.

  “I think,” the blonde said, “I’d starve to death while trying to find it.” Then she leaned back and let show the 9mm on her leg holster.

  The man’s compatriots laughed even harder, and he turned red with embarrassment. “Bitch,” he muttered under his breath, and got back up. Griffin turned her back on him and concentrated on her beer.

  “Jen, was that smart? We don’t need to get into a fight here.”

  She sighed, and said, “Abe, you have to establish yourself. If I hadn’t slapped him down, next thing his hands would be on me. And NOBODY touches me if I don’t want them to.”

  Abe Drummond had grown up big, despite the years of poor nutrition. The life of a refugee outside the towns was a rough one, but the work had made his muscles hard, and training had given him skills that he wanted to use. In the back of his mind, though, hell, in the front of his mind, was their mission. Report back to Raven Rock. The town was a detour.

  “Still, we gotta be quiet.”

  “Don’t worry, Junior. The Invy don’t give a shit what happens in human bars. We can have a gunfight in here, and they wouldn’t even blink an eye. If the Dragons could actually blink,” she added.

  They sat and drank their beers in silence for another fifteen minutes, but the crowd at the table was getting rowdier, picking on their friend who had gotten shot down by the blonde. After a few more minutes, the bartender shook his head slightly, meaning no contact was to be established. The Corporal figured as much; the town was probably too hot after the executions. Time to go, then.

  She stood up, and Drummond stood with her, both making for the doorway. As they passed the table full of Greenie Militia, the one she had pissed off stuck out his foot and tripped her; she fell full length on the floor. “Look who went down now!” he cackled with glee, and, before Drummond could do anything, kicked her, hard.

  “Hey!” exclaimed Drummond, who had not been expecting any trouble.

  “What are you gonna do about it?’ asked the man, standing, and his three friends stood with him. Three were big, muscle types, good old boys, but the fourth was a slim, wiry Hispanic.

  The young soldier was caught. He had been in fights before, and at only nineteen, wasn’t one to back down, but the mission took precedence. “Nothing,” he answered, and bent down to help Griffin off the floor. As he did, the man launched another kick that caught Drummond in the head. His field of vision exploded into stars, and he fell heavily to his knees.

  “Oh, it’s on, you fuckers!” exclaimed Griffin, and she came up off the floor with her ceramic knife held low. Her first stab hit the man just below his police surplus vest, burying itself up to the hilt.

  “NO GUNS!” shouted the bartender, but his companions had already started to draw their own pistols. Griffin kicked hard at one man’s knee, and he went down, his revolver discharging into the floor.

  The third man punched straight out from his shoulder, and caught the woman square in the face. She was knocked backwards, falling into Drummond, who was shaking his head. They both collapsed in a heap on the floor, but Griffin rolled off him and launched herself at the man who had punched her, slashing wildly at his face. “Watch the other one!” she yelled, as the Hispanic man came around the table, knife drawn.

  Drummond drew his own bayonet, just as the man with the smashed knee stabbed Griffin in the side of her leg, then again under her ribs. The one who had punched her launched himself onto her as she fell to the floor, kicking hard enough that everyone could hear her ribs break.

  The Hispanic man moved like lighting, getting under Drummond’s awkwardly slow guard, shoving him aside, and slashing the forehead of the man who had stabbed Griffin. With his reverse stroke, he plunged his fighting knife into the kidneys of the one who was kicking her. The man screamed in pain and clutched at his back, only to be cut off as the blade entered his neck.

  A final swing, and the blinded attacker joined his friends on the floor. That only left the original one, who was clutching his stomach as blood spread in a growing pool around him, mewling piteously.

  “Kill him,” ordered their rescuer, as he knelt down by Griffin. She was breathing laboriously, harsh breath whispering in and out, bubbles forming in the blood that ran from her mouth. Drummond knelt down and quickly slit the man’s throat, no different than killing the animals he had hunted in the wild.

  The Private stood and moved to where the man was examining Griffin. “I don’t know who you are, but thanks for,” The man cut him off before he could say anything, holding up his hand.

  “You’re not going to make it,” he said to Griffin.

  She nodded weakly, and whispered through the blood, “Make it quick.”

  He held his hand over her eyes, closed his own and said a short prayer, crossed himself, and, before Drummond could realize what he was doing, stabbed her once through the heart. She convulsed wildly, and then fell still.

  “Let’s go. We have to get out of town, ASAP. The bartender will cover for us here, and my militia membership will get us out of the gates. After that, we have to ride hard.”

  Drummond stood, paralyzed with shock. It had all happened so quickly that he couldn’t move.

  The man took him by the arm and hissed in his ear, “Your friend was a fool, and you have a mission to complete. LET’S GO! The Invy may not care, but the Greens are going to turn this town upside down. The rest of my team will have to go to ground.” He half pulled, half shoved the teenager out the door.

  Chapter 17

  The darkness covered the tears tha
t fell silently down Abe Drummond’s face. Their horses plodded southward, slowly covering the miles towards Pennsylvania. His companion said nothing, just guided his horse between wrecked and rusted cars and the occasional pothole. Finally breaking the silence, the young man attempted to thank his rescuer.

  “De nada,” the man answered.

  “Who are you, and why did you help us?” asked the Private.

  “I saw your friend’s hand signals with the bartender. What Scout Team do you belong to?”

  Drummond said nothing, but slowly moved his hand towards his gun. The older man moved his horse to the side and bumped into him, throwing the younger rider off balance. “Don’t even think about it,” said the Hispanic. “I could shoot you down before you got your gun loose from its holster, and I don’t want to do that.”

  “How did you know? And what are you going to do with me? Turn me in to the Invy? I’ll die first!” exclaimed Drummond, anger in his voice.

  “I have no doubt you would. There is no question of your courage. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Captain Jesse Padilla, Commander, Team 349, CEF Special Forces. And you?”

  The young soldier was stunned. “But … but you were wearing a Greenie armband!”

  “Sometimes, the best place to hide is in plain sight. Plus, I get more food that way. Who are you?”

  “Private Abe Drummond. The woman with me was Corporal Jen Griffin. We’re with IST -1.”

  The man laughed out loud. “Master Sergeant Agostine and his merry band of rogues? There must be some serious mayhem about. Tell me, is that crazy fool Zivcovic still alive? I knew some scouts stayed with two of my team several weeks ago. The ones you probably saw hanging on your way into town.”

  “Yes, he is, last time I knew. That was us, passing north. I can’t say anything about our mission.”

  “Smart man. I assume you’re heading back to Scranton to deliver a message to Raven Rock. message. Very well, I’ll escort you directly to Raven Rock.”