Tom assessed their set-up and was impressed. The main camp was hidden among the dense tree cover, and the huge central building was above ground, but the roof was in disrepair; a few holes made to appear like the structure was weathered and been abandoned long ago. Greg Zhao had done a great job of keeping his camp off the radar
Where was the man? So far, he’d only met with people that claimed he’d be meeting with their leader in due time. He’d given up on waiting after three hours and sent Alec to bed. Rebecca had been taken to a medical ward for care and Tom hoped the girl wasn’t too far gone. Her words had excited him. He could use her.
It always came to the same thing: How could he use people to advance the Reclaimers? Tom sat on a bench, the grass thin and covered in pine needles. He stared at the stars, wondering if the Overseers hailed from near one of them. How far away were they? How much distance could this gateway propel them?
He coughed, a sudden attack so violent, he bent over, retching beside the bench, and was left gasping for air as the tears stung his eyes. He didn’t look at the mess, knowing there would be blood. This was it. His last chance. Others worried he was pushing himself and their operation because of the downturn in his health, and hell, they were right to an extent. But really, it was culminating at the right time, for him at least.
He wheezed, sitting up again, and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve blinking away tears. He was glad the Overseers were finally doing this. Another two months and he doubted he’d be around to see the battle play out. This was one fight he wasn’t going to be hiding from. It had taken all his strength and patience over the last twenty-five years to refrain from attacking them with everything they had.
Tom couldn’t waste the opportunity; the Reclaimers couldn’t waste it. His thoughts drifted to Rebecca and the facility she worked at.
“I didn’t expect to see you ever again,” a voice said from behind him, and he turned to see a shadow leaning against a tree trunk, arms crossed over his chest.
Tom stood, brushing his pants off. “I’m sure you didn’t, but here I am.”
The man stepped forward, moonlight casting its glow over his aged face. “You look like shit, Tom,” Gregory Zhao said with a smile.
“So do you.” Tom walked over to his old friend and hugged the man. There had been a lot of emotions fueled by this man over the last couple decades, but most of it washed away at the sight of him. A sharp pain in the shape of Jennifer kicked him in the heart.
“Why don’t you come in my office where we can speak in private,” Greg said, and Tom nodded, following the older man inside. There were vehicles lining the walls of the massive building, crates of supplies on pallet racking covering the other half of the warehouse space. They’d done well for themselves, and Tom nearly smiled, thinking about how well they would have done together if only Greg had agreed to join him all those years ago.
It was a moot point now. An irrelevance that would only distract him from the cause.
“How are you holding up?” Greg asked as they walked. The other man was in dark blue pants, a gray button-up dress shirt that was well worn but clean, but a size too large on the man’s wiry frame.
“I’ve been better.” Tom didn’t elaborate. He suspected Greg had heard his coughing fit outside.
“Want my people to examine you?” Greg asked.
“I’d rather not.”
“Fine.” Greg nodded to an armed guard, and the woman opened the door for them, nodding in deference to Greg. “This way.” The corridor lights sprang on as they walked, and Tom was impressed by the facility once again. It still had power, and that was a rare treat for humans outside the slave camps.
His office was at the end of the room, and Tom noticed there were sleeping quarters and a basic kitchen right beside it. He imagined Greg spent a lot of time here. The office was sparsely decorated, a few pictures in old wooden frames were staged behind his desk. Tom walked over to them, seeing one of him and Jen.
“Were we ever this young?” Tom asked, holding it. God, she was beautiful.
“We were. She was just a kid.” Greg’s gaze drifted to the wall, and Tom couldn’t believe it.
The painting was clearly by Jennifer Zhao; the bold colors, the abstract brush strokes. Tom stared at the image for a several minutes before Greg broke the spell.
“I’m sorry I kept you so long,” Greg said.
“I assume you didn’t have pressing business?” Tom asked.
The older man smiled. “You always were perceptive.”
“And you never liked me,” Tom replied.
“Why would I? My sister was too delicate for a man like you. You were all military medals, and she was an artist,” Greg said.
“Who cares?” Tom clenched his jaw. “You know what? I’m not doing this again, Greg. We have our differences, but they don’t matter anymore. We cling to this past that is dead. It’s all gone! They are all gone! We’re not. There are people all around this country, this world, and they need help, Greg. Can we set our rivalry aside for a minute and discuss things like two real leaders?” Tom’s heart was racing in his chest, and he clutched the soft back of a chair, keeping himself upright.
“You’ve had a long day. Care for a drink?” Greg’s tone was calm, and he crossed the room, opening a cabinet. He pulled out a bottle, half full with an amber liquid, and grabbed two stubby glasses.
Tom didn’t reply; he just took a seat and waited for Greg to pass him the drink. It was two fingers deep, and Tom sipped it at first, then downed it all, offering the empty glass to his host. Greg laughed, filling it again.
“I think if it wasn’t for her, we could have been friends.” Greg took a drink and set his glass on his desk. “Tell me why you’re here.”
Tom took a deep breath. He’d let the man get the better of him, and it was clear that Greg Zhao had the upper hand. He needed to turn the tide. “I meant to come years ago.”
“Is that so?”
Tom nodded. “I drove all the way to the coast. I stopped at the cypress tunnel.”
“Why didn’t you come in?”
“Because I was a stubborn asshole, that’s why,” Tom said, letting go of a laugh.
Greg raised his glass and clinked it with Tom’s. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“I’m serious. I couldn’t deal with my own crap. I figured what your answer would be, so I left. I drove all the way home and hated myself for it. But I was confident that one day I’d return, and that the need would be so dire, you’d have no choice but to let me in, to agree with me, and we’d finally end this thing,” Tom said, pounding back the second drink. His hand shook as he set it to the desk’s surface.
“What have you been doing, Tom?” Greg asked, the lightness gone from his voice. “Have you been aggravating them all this time?”
Tom tried to keep his calm. “As if they’re a bear you don’t want to upset?”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Greg told him.
“You can’t live in a cave with a bear, no matter how hard you try. Eventually, they’ll turn on you and kill you. It’s up to you to become the hunter, don’t you see that?”
“That’s where we differ, Tom. You always want to shoot first, and I need to lead the people. I have to keep them safe,” Greg said.
“How many live here?” Tom asked.
“We have two thousand, give or take,” Greg told him.
“And you think that by hiding, you’re helping the people? There are tens of thousands, perhaps millions still alive,” Tom said.
“Yes, there are, and most of them are working for the Occupation.” Greg took another sip, anger seething behind his eyes.
“You think they had a choice? Most of them are only doing what they need to survive. We can give them a choice, don’t you see?” Tom plead. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but somehow he thought an older Greg might be softer, more inclined to help.
“There is no choice. The Overseers own us, and we can’t do anythin
g about it. You’re foolish to try. All you’re going to do is make things worse.”
“How so?”
“You shake the hornet’s nest, you’re going to get stung, and everyone near you will be stung too. Tom.” His voice slowed. “I realize you want to turn things around, but there’s no winning this war. It’s already been decided, and we are no longer the top of the food chain.”
Tom leaned forward in his seat. “They have a gate.”
“A what?”
“A gate. You remember we wondered why they only sent such a small force, right?”
“Because that’s all they needed to bring.”
“No. They were the first wave. They’re bringing more.”
“More? Through a gate?” Greg was repeating his words, aggravating Tom.
“That’s what I’m saying. If you thought it was bad before, it's about to become a whole lot worse,” Tom said.
Greg appeared to consider this. “If they bring more, then…”
“Then our people are no longer necessary. Sure, they might keep a few slaves, but their complete infrastructure is built on us working for them. Once they no longer need to feed and clothe workers, the entire system collapses,” Tom said.
“Meaning they kill the workers,” Greg finished his thought.
“Exactly. We have to strike before the gates are opened,” Tom said.
“Where is it?”
“Detroit.”
“That’s a fair way from here, Tom,” Greg said.
“I know. But we can do it. I have pieces in motion. We will have an army at the right time. They’re waiting on my word,” Tom said.
Greg drank the rest of his liquor, setting the cup down gently. “I’m sorry, Tom. I can’t do it. I can’t help.”
Tom’s heart sank. This was the final piece. The last part of the puzzle. “I have the twins.”
“The twins?”
“Travis and Elaine’s twins. The ones from the video,” he said.
“You have to be kidding me, Tom.”
“I’m not. Alec is here with me. Cole is in Chicago.”
“What do you expect to do with them?”
“I was hoping you had the footage,” Tom said.
“I do.”
“Give me a copy,” Tom said. “If you’re not going to help, then it’s the least you could do.”
Greg pursed his lips. “Fine. But it won’t do you any good. You have no way to relay it to anyone.”
“Let me worry about that,” Tom told him.
“I’m sorry, Tom. You realize you’re only going to get yourself killed, right?” Greg asked, opening his door.
Tom didn’t know what he’d expected, but leaving empty-handed wasn’t it. There would have to be another way. They walked through the halls, Tom fighting the urge to yell at his once to be brother-in-law. Greg left him in the hall as he entered a doorway, and Tom peeked in to see countless stacked boxes.
Greg emerged ten minutes later, covered in dust and with an old laptop. “It’s on here. I’m sure of it.”
Tom imagined seeing the video again, of seeing his brother pleading to all humanity. This was going to be difficult to watch. “We need your help, Greg. We do. I’m not going to sugar-coat this. The aliens are coming, and they won’t stop until they erase you, me, and everyone else on the planet. We need to rise against them before it's too late.”
Greg only shook his head slowly before speaking. “I believe you, but it’s my job to keep these people safe.”
Tom passed him a tablet. “This will show if there are any Seekers and Trackers near you. It also has an encoded communication program the Overseers use to talk to one another. I have the unauthorized access, thanks to a man from the inside. Keep this close. I’ll send a message advising when to be in Detroit, should you change your mind.”
“I won’t, but thank you.”
“Keep it close.” Tom left him in the hallway, moving toward the residential corridors. His breath came quickly and he braced against the wall when no one was looking. He slapped a palm against it, cursing Gregory Zhao for not seeing how dire things were.
Tom gripped the laptop, anxious to pack it away. He nearly lost his way, but eventually found the corridor they’d been shown to earlier. Tom stopped at Alec’s room, pushing the door ajar. The young man was sleeping, his breathing gentle and even. Tom needed to move fast, to push the pedal now that he needed a new plan.
Maybe Greg was right. After everything, Tom couldn’t bear to take Alec on what would undoubtedly be a suicide mission. He closed the door, headed to his room, and gathered his pack. Without a fond look back at his nephew, Tom left the camp. Maybe it was the one redemptive thing he could do in his miserable life.
Chapter 24
Lina
Ten days out of the safety and boredom of the bunker at Cripple Creek had left Lina sore-footed and exhausted, but she also found what Cole had called her second wind. Her body had adapted to the conditions and efforts required of it, producing an additional boost of energy to finish the job.
Two villages had joined their cause; one complete settlement and the remnants of another’s survivors after an aerial attack by the Overseers and Hunters. Yas had stayed with them, happy to be unburdened of the leadership thrust upon him and put his people in the care of the other village chief who, in turn, put his trust in the big young man to speak on his behalf.
“You will take this to the others,” he said, handing over a necklace of carved, polished wooden idols. “It will tell them you have my authority. I will take care of your people as though they were my own.”
The refugees were grateful not to have to keep moving, but they understood their journey would not end at the village because if—when—their warriors moved out to fight the enemy, they would have to go somewhere safe until they returned.
They reached the outskirts of a major settlement long before the sun climbed high in the sky, and Buddy sounded off a warning as two warriors stepped into their path to block their way.
A challenge was issued, responded to by Yas in his booming, resonating voice, and weapons were lowered slightly. They were led into the camp, which was far greater than any of them had seen before with the exception of Yas who had visited on trade errands more than once.
“Who are you,” croaked a voice that stunned the chattering onlookers into silence, “and why have you come here?”
“My name is Lina,” she said, bowing her head in respect. He seemed too old to lead, as a chief must be a capable warrior if they could hope to protect their people. “My home was destroyed by the Hunters and their alien overlords, but I found others who live differently. We are going to fight them; fight for our freedom and take back our home from them.” She stepped forwards, raising a hand to gesture at Yas’ hulking frame. “Brave warriors have already joined us, and we are here to ask you to do the same.”
Silence followed, sapping the courage she felt at speaking out so publicly and leaving her nervous and embarrassed.
“It’s not just for us,” Monet said as she stepped forwards to fill the awkward silence. “It’s for everyone. For our children and their children. The aliens are close to building a gateway, a portal to their world. We must stop this from happening or they’ll strip every piece of life from this planet until there’s no way we can survive.”
She scanned around and saw blank stares meeting her words. Swallowing her fear and nerves at the unexpected reception, she carried on with more force and passion in her words.
“We live underground where they can’t find us,” she said. “For years, we’ve lived this way, creating a network around the country and learning everything we can about them. We’ve studied them, and we are ready to strike—to go to war and drive them out—but we need your help. We need an ar—”
“We will not follow you,” the croaking voice said. It sounded weak at first, but there was a sharpness to it that cut without requiring any kind of volume. “Take your empty words and leave our land.”
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“So you’ll stay here, hoping they don’t find you?” Monet spat back, all semblance of respect gone in the face of his arrogance. “Or are you working with them, like a traitor to your own species?” Weapons lowered but were held in a fashion that made it clear they could easily become a direct threat.
“Take care of your words, outsider,” the elder warned. “We’re no traitors, but we haven’t been attacked by them or their machines in a generation. You want us to trade our safety for your childish ideology of freedom? When have we ever been free? When have we ever been safe?”
“That’s not th—” Lina said, stepping up again, but was silenced by an irritated wave of a hand.
“I did not address you,” she was told, “so you do not address me.” He ignored both Lina and Monet and stared at Yas, who was much taller and literally twice his mass.
“You believe their lies?” he asked. “I recognize you. You’re from—”
“I am from nowhere,” Yas said. “Not since they came and destroyed my home. My people have the bravery to join the others. What happens when more come from their world and take the water from the rivers and take away the insects that make the flowers and trees grow? What then?”
The hand waved dismissively again, as though the words could be ignored, and it would make them inconsequential.
“You have your answer,” the elder said. “You came here to ask us to join you, and I have said no. Now go while you’re able, and take that vermin with you,” he added, pointing a bony finger at Buddy, who kept his gaze fixed on the man and dared him to say it again.
The accusatory finger dropped, and the old man turned his back with another wave of his hand, which made the warriors in the crowd push away spectators to make their exit.
“Fool,” Monet snapped as she fought with her boot to remove it instead of untying the laces further. When her foot finally came free, it threatened to tip her backwards off the fallen tree trunk she perched on. Under different circumstances, Lina would’ve found that funny, but her shock at their reception had left her feeling cold and confused.
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