That, Cole recognized, was real power.
He turned his gaze to Renata and spoke from the heart.
“This… this shit has hurt us all. It’s taken away everything from who we are and who we all could’ve been. If we don’t stop them now, then that’s it. Nothing. If they don’t need us to work for them any longer, they’ll kill every single human under their power. You think it’s bad living out here with drones hunting you? With other humans chasing you relentlessly because it’s the only way they can survive? When they bring more of their own ships through, we’re finished, and by we, I mean the human race. Done.”
Renata stared at him, that cocky half-grin creeping onto her face, which made him fill with even more useless rage.
“Okay, prince, you’ve convinced me.”
“…Really?” Cole asked, surprised by how easy it was to convince her. “Why?”
She shifted in her seat for comfort and leaned across the table, her arms coming together as if to interlock the fingers she only possessed half of.
“A long time ago,” she explained with glistening eyeballs and her intent stare fixed on him, “I watched a man speak to the nation with exactly that kind of passion. He convinced me then, kind of like you’ve convinced me. Shit,” she laughed, lifting her arms to her sides as if to encompass the entire underground fortress they occupied, “all of this was built on the power of what he said.”
“Who?” Cole asked.
“His name was Travis Mason.”
Chapter 36
Tom
The coughing wouldn’t subside no matter what he did. Tom sat on the edge of the bed, an old rag folded over his hand as he hacked into it. Blood. There wasn’t much life in his body. There were days Tom would wake up and feel fifty again, but more often than not, he felt like a train had hit him.
Today was like all those bad days had combined and settled in his chest. The cancer was spreading; he could almost sense it in his organs. His strength was sapped by all the travel and exertion of the last few weeks, and he wished he could lie down and sleep for a week. Maybe a month. But then it would all be over.
He coughed again, this one even more violent, and for the first time in forever, he considered giving up. Was it really his duty to reclaim the United States, the Earth? Why did he always think it was up to him? Surely there were others better suited for the task. He’d always stay awake in his office under Cripple Creek, wondering how many different factions of resistance there were out there.
He’d communicated once with a group in western Europe, but the messages stopped after a few weeks. Dead likely.
Tom took another pill, one he’d been provided with by the doctor on the West Coast after telling Zhao he didn’t want to see her. He swallowed it with a quick tilt of his water bottle. The coughing receded finally, and he took the time to medicate. He hadn’t even asked what the pill did; he was done with caring. The only question he’d asked her was whether he could drive while on it. She’d said he would be able to, and that was all that mattered.
He took deep breaths, already feeling the magic coursing through his weary body. He stayed there, legs drawn up in the fetal position for a few more minutes, not letting his mind drift enough to fall asleep. So many years had led up to this. Could he convince the people to turn on the Overseers? That was all he had left.
He’d rushed the timeline. Detroit was moving too quickly, and the gate would be open soon. Lina was probably two thousand miles away. He’d left Alec behind and was sure his nephew would never forgive him for it. It was for the best. He truly believed that.
The only one he thought would be close enough to help was Soares and his other nephew. If they found the Roamers, and were able to convince them to join, then Tom felt they had a chance. As long as the humans under the Occupation were convinced they’d be killed otherwise.
There were far more what-ifs surrounding his final plan, but he had the video of Travis and Elaine with the twins. That might be enough.
His tablet beeped. Tom sat up, wiping his face. His head swam, and he steadied himself with a hand on the bedding before grabbing the device.
He saw a note on the trojan program he’d used to send the other groups their duties. No one was supposed to relay messages on this, so it had to be important. Tom tapped the message, seeing it was from the tablet encoded to Soares and Cole.
Objective secured. Ability to shut grid down for up to 48 hrs. Enough explosives to complete mission.
Tom read it three times. That meant they’d persuaded the Roamers on their side, that was good. They had a way to disable the power for two days. That was great. It would give everyone a chance to move into position. Or at least give him a way to sneak beyond the borders. Tom was confident that the Seekers and Trackers were running off a different system, one far from Detroit, so they’d still be operational, but he had the tablet’s tracking system to evade them as well.
He smiled, his cheeks protesting at the foreign movement.
Can you relay video from there? Can you send a message to all screens in North America?
He waited, his hands shaking slightly in anticipation. The reply came quickly.
Better. Worldwide. These guys aren’t messing around.
Tom laughed, letting the joy fill him. They had a damned shot at this! A real shot.
1800. Two days. Cut the grid in 6 hours. I’ll send the file right before so they can’t track.
His fingers hovered over the screen, wanting to say so much more. Wanting to tell Cole he loved him.
Wanting to tell Soares he was proud to have such a friend. Since they were sending messages, risking it all, he decided to try Monet.
Any chance you’re coming on time?
He didn’t expect a message from here instantly. She was probably hiking hours on end, so he was shocked when the note came moments later.
Two hundred fighters by air.
By air? Tom scratched his chin, trying to decipher it. Say again.
One of the screechers. Long story. We’ll be there.
Tom read the word, recognizing one of the many slang terms for the immense space ships the aliens had arrived in. How the hell had they procured an Overseers craft? It didn’t matter. They were coming, and the firepower might help.
18:10 He gave her a time only. That should about do it.
She received the message but didn’t reply. Good girl. She was going to do well when he was gone. He’d already told Soares to pull her in, to use her for the last act of the reclamation. Without strong and smart people like Monet, the war and subsequent recovery was never going to work.
Was Dex still alive? Tom hated being in the dark. He needed those ships to be destroyed, and he sent a message to him as well, not expecting to see a reply.
Is it done?
Tom finally stood, his legs almost giving out. He was too tired for this, but he had no choice. He was in a safehouse outside Fort Wayne. He’d stocked this place personally almost five years ago, when he’d decided to make the final push once and for all. It was a nice home, somewhere he would have liked to have lived with Jen. Maybe their children could have run around the carpeted stairs and swum in the backyard pool in the heat of the summer.
They could have slept side by side in the master suite, night after night until they grew old and died. His chin rested on his chest, and he shook his head slowly. Maybe in another life. Maybe he could see to it that others had a chance for that kind of happiness.
He moved to the bathroom and set his lantern on the counter. It cast dark shadows over his face, and he used a bottle of water to wash his face. He found a comb and tried to smooth out his bedraggled hair, even combing his white beard.
Tom smiled, testing it out, and saw his teeth were coated with red speckles. He brushed them with a small towel and went to the closet. There it was, waiting for him in the bag. He changed his clothes, choosing the long-sleeved shirt and grabbing his tie from the hanger. It was the same one he had worn all those years ago, a
nd his hands recalled how to make the perfect knot at the first attempt. His jacket was heavy, and he slid it on, one arm at a time.
He straightened it, pride swelling in his chest at the sight. It had been ages since he’d worn his colonel’s uniform, but was happy that it still fit. He was a little less toned, a little thinner from the illness, but that didn’t matter.
The medals clinked together as he moved from the mirror, and he flipped the battery pack on, making sure the camera was facing him at the proper angle. He tested it out a few times, sipped some tepid water, and turned the lanterns on behind the camera.
“I’m Colonel Thomas Mason of the US Marine Corp. If you are seeing this, we’re out of time. The Overseers have turned on us and are opening a gateway to bridge their planet to ours. Their drones are moving from city to city, destroying the human work facilities, and you will be next. Many of you will remember the twins, Cole and Alec Mason. They are alive.” Tom took a breath and tried to ease his nerves before continuing.
Dex
Dex woke with a start, his body splayed in the driver’s seat of Cleveland’s truck. He looked to his hand and saw the gun in his grip. He wiped a string of drool from his lip and peered around. It was light outside, and he’d stopped after driving for three hours the night before.
After he’d destroyed their shipyard, he’d kept glancing over his shoulder for hours, expecting retaliation that never came. Tom was right. The aliens were few and far between. Without their human workers, they were hardly present. Had something happened to them in the last twenty-five years? Dex was confident they’d had a much higher head count when they’d arrived.
It had been a clear case of coming in shooting and intimidating the humans, quickly causing them to think there was no choice but to surrender. He checked the tablet, searching for the green and red icons, seeing only a few surrounding the destroyed shipyard near the river from last night.
Tubs was dead, and Dex hated that he’d brought in the other Hunter, only to have him killed. But he didn’t think he would have been successful without the big man’s assistance. His death weighed heavily on Dex as he started the truck’s engine.
An icon blinked at the corner of the tablet, and his heart thumped in his chest. He tapped it, seeing a message from Tom.
Is it done?
Dex stared at it and contemplated his reply. It’s done, he replied.
Short and simple. He saw that it was sent and received.
Get to Detroit. I’m coming. 1800 day after tomorrow. Tom was doing it.
Dex nodded, seeing the time stamp was from last night. That made it tomorrow at six PM. Dex wished he was done with his role, but Tom had shifted his goals with the addition of Dex to the team. He assumed the old man had backup plans, but he was also thinking that there were fewer pieces to the Reclaimers than he’d been hoping for too. Contrary to what he’d witnessed in the Rocky Mountains, he didn’t think they had much more than those few hundred people under their wing.
Whatever they had, it might not be enough, and Dex could only hope they weren’t too late. The roads were as quiet as ever, and he drove in silence for a few more hours, routing around Pittsburgh. He didn’t want anyone from the Occupation delaying his arrival at Detroit; he wanted to be there when it all went down.
Dex slowed and checked the tablet, noticing an increased number of drones moving from the Midwest into Michigan. It was as if the Overseers felt the fight coming, but he didn’t think that was it. No. They were as oblivious to the revenge plot as they were about everything. This was something else.
The gateway. It was all about the gateway. They were bringing their drones to guard the gate, which meant that it was about to open. Tom’s timing would either be precise or a little too late. Dex pressed the pedal harder.
Chapter 37
Lina
“You sure there’s nothing?” Lina asked, her fear making her doubt Monet. In answer, the stern woman turned the tablet to show her the screen. There were a few green and red icons visible but as she peered closer, she saw that Monet had pushed the display to zoom out with two fingers as the area depicted on the screen showed hundreds of square miles.
“Why?”
“Not sure,” Monet answered, clearly bothered by it as much as Lina was, “but Tom always said never to look a gift horse in the mouth; the bastards are staying away and that’s fine by me.” Lina’s lips tightened as she stopped herself from speaking and asking an unnecessary question. She got the gist of it; the drones weren’t coming to their location after the alien forces had been crushed and that meant one of two things.
“Either they’re holding back so they can send in a force of Hunters or… or come themselves in united strength…” Monet said, trailing off as she thought out loud.
“Or?”
“Or they’re too busy doing what they’re doing in Detroit to bother about one weak pocket of humans.”
“Meaning they’re bringing through enough of their own kind to wipe us out, so there’s no point in fighting a group who’ve already kicked their asses,” Lina finished. Monet smirked grimly, not at her sentiments as much as the dark way she cursed about the aliens.
Any response she could’ve given was drowned out by the shrieking whine of turbine engines as the alien ship popped up over a grassy hill and tilted its nose at the ground. It streaked toward them, growing larger as if swelling as the noise grew with it until there was no point in speaking. The alien vessel slowed, righting itself to level out, and sank through the air to the dirt, where it landed on struts a little harder than looked comfortable for anyone inside. The engines stopped, taking only a few seconds for the shrieking noise to subside to nothing and leave them in empty silence once more.
“Pretty good for an elder who didn’t think he could make it work,” Lina mused, adjusting the weight of the shotgun slung over her shoulder. Monet made a noise that implied she didn’t really believe Whittaker’s claim that he might not be able to fly the thing.
“Meh, I bet the old codger knew he could do it all along; he wanted everyone to think he was a genius for figuring it out in a day.”
The ramp descended from the belly of the ship to allow three people to walk onto it and meet them.
“All good?” Monet asked, wasting no time.
“Seems that way,” a tall, thin man answered. Lina regarded him, seeing past his exterior and somehow able to tell what he was deep down. Like Whittaker, this man was from another world and seemed to speak a language she was intentionally excluded from. She was learning that about those men and women who had been in the military before they came, before her time, and without fail, all of them seemed ready to take up the fight with renewed anger.
He introduced himself. “Walters,” he said, extending a hand. “I was an E-4 EOD with the one-ninety-second,” as if it explained everything. His lean frame hid a strength that was obvious if a person knew what they were looking for.
“No sense in waiting,” he said. “We’ll take the best fighters from both groups and send the rest of the civilians somewhere safe. Where’s the place you say you have a weapons cache?”
“Cincinnati,” Monet answered. Walters nodded to his two companions as if giving silent orders because they both left to make it happen.
“I’ll go ask Yas to make sure his people have some direction,” Monet added as she turned to leave. “I’m guessing he won't agree to stay behind and miss a fight.”
Lina laughed lightly at the thought of the lumbering Yas volunteering to be anywhere but in the front rank of a battle against the aliens and their stooges. She turned to Walters, seeing his expression and knowing he had something to ask.
“You okay?”
“Sure,” he said, shifting uneasily. “I… I was wondering what the plan was with our friend…”
“Our frie—oh,” Lina said, seeing the expression on his face and understanding.
“I’ve got two of my people watching him—it—whatever—and… and we think it’s dying
or something.”
Lina said nothing. She’d visited the captured alien twice since they had first discovered it, and the best course of action seemed to be holding it on the ship until they could decide what to do with it.
Some people wanted to interrogate it, to force it to give up its secrets, but none spoke its language. Others wanted to show it kindness and try to convince it to help. Lina’s first reaction was to kill it out of fear and revulsion, but when that initial wave of emotion passed, she was left feeling almost sorry for it. It was clearly sick, and when Monet pointed out that it was much smaller than the ones they had fought and killed, she found herself imagining the creature as an abused servant of the other aliens.
“Nothing we can do about it now,” she said with a shrug, aware of how weak her response sounded. Walters nodded, ending their conversation and walking away.
Lina watched as the fighters began to assemble, hesitant of stepping close to the alien craft until their respective leaders gave the order. She found Buddy beside a teenage girl she knew as Cheyenne. She was always bossing around the elderly and children, and apparently the coyote too.
Lina called him, and he loped over to her side.
She crouched, petting the mangy animal on the head. “You’re going to help them walk west.”
Buddy’s head tilted to the side.
“You stay with them. With Cheyenne.” Lina pointed at the group. Their group had grown to well over the two hundred they could carry with them on the ship, and half of their warriors were protecting the rest of the villagers, leading them toward the West Coast. Tom had told Monet not to return to the mountains, but said something about Cypress tunnels. Monet seemed to understand the rest.
“Don’t worry, Lina. We’ve developed an understanding.” Cheyenne smiled, resting her hands on hips.
Lina chuckled. “I’m sure you do.”
Salvation (Rise Book 2) Page 23