“I give him meat, and he protects us. Only fair.”
“Thank you, Cheyenne. I look forward to being reunited.”
“As do I.”
Lina started away, and she glanced over at Buddy, who whined at her abandonment, but he didn’t chase after her. He was a good friend, and she could only hope to see him again.
Monet found her and gave the update.
“We have almost two hundred,” she explained as she pulled out the tablet to obsessively check the map again. “Double that heading for a safe location. We should be at our storage place inside a couple hours.” She stopped talking as she tapped at the tablet’s screen and gasped.
“What? What is it?” Monet answered by showing her the screen again, zoomed out to show the coast on the right side of the display and the wavering vertical line of blue ocean beside it. Lina peered closer, snatching the tablet and zooming in as she performed the awkward movement with two fingers.
“They couldn’t know. Could they?” she asked desperately, staring at the converging dots of drones all heading for Detroit.
“It’s unlikely,” Monet said with less confidence than Lina liked. “It must be for the gateway thing.”
Lina hoped she was right, because tomorrow, whether they had all of their pieces on the board or not, the outcome would be decided.
One way or another.
Flying wasn’t a sensation Lina had experienced before, and it served to remind her why she’d been born without wings.
She wasn’t the only one not to take to it well. On both decks where men and women sat in the bucket seats not designed for their species, she could hear retching and coughing as people responded to the experience.
The ship leaned to one side again, inviting a renewed string of shouts and other noises from the human cargo.
“Dammit, Whittaker,” Walters yelled from his position nearest the alien cockpit, “you trying to make people sick?”
“Just getting the feel for the ol’ girl is all,” the old man shouted in reply, adding a wheezy laugh to show just how sorry he was.
The flight felt like it took forever, and after the initial period when those who were going to throw up did so, a tense quiet descended over the interior of the ship until the engine note changed and the fuselage vibrated to a different tune before the heavy impact of Whittaker’s landing seemed to compress her spine and make her permanently shorter.
“Nice, Squid,” Walters yelled.
“Thank you for flying Kiss My Ass airways.” Whittaker chuckled. “You could always have walked your ass here.”
“Safer than riding shotgun with a god damned Navy pilot,” Walters grumbled to himself as he unstrapped himself and stood to unpack his own spine. “Okay, anyone not in possession of a weapon report to the ramp,” he yelled loud enough to be heard on both decks.
Monet led them off the ship after she checked their surroundings, fixing on a half-destroyed industrial building and setting off for it over the rubble of old buildings at a jog. Lina stayed close to her, her heart pounding from the fear of being exposed in daylight and stuck to her as she circled the building before finding a rusted metal door.
“We have these places all over,” Monet said as she pulled off a glove and poked a finger at a keypad eight times. The door responded with a heavy clunk as she moved away and replaced her glove before raising her weapon and stepping inside. Lights flickered on, extending away from them to illuminate the dusty interior with an electric hum providing the soundtrack.
“Lord. Be. Praised,” Walters said from behind them in awe. “Is that? …Are they?” He turned to look at Monet like a child would do with a parent when given the thing they always wanted. She smiled and made a grand gesture for him to go ahead. Walters ran his fingers over the racks of weapons almost lovingly before he turned and shouted for everyone to enter.
“And keep your paws off the toys until I say so,” he added, pointing at one person in particular who shrank away from the guns.
“Ladies,” he announced loudly, “what we have here is the M-two-forty-nine squad automatic weapon. Firing a five-five-six cartridge, this sucker is designed to be carried by the individual soldier to provide a high rate of fire to support infantry action.” He was evidently enjoying himself and Lina was almost sad when Monet interrupted him.
“Okay, let’s just get everyone armed,” she said, cutting him off as he sucked in a long breath, ready to start yelling more instructions. Walters deflated, nodding his agreement and overseeing their people into orderly lines where he could issue them all an appropriate weapon.
Lina watched for a while, shuddering slightly at the destructive capability of so many guns but still experiencing excitement and tension at the impending battle she was inescapably heading for.
“Come on,” Monet said as she tugged at her sleeve. Lina followed her to a smaller rack containing handguns and picked up one. It had a silver top section and a black lower. “Glock,” she said as she demonstrated the action by cocking it and dry-firing the gun. “No safety, just point and squeeze.” She handed it to Lina, who gripped it and felt reassurance at the light weight in her hand as Monet began thumbing bullets into three magazines for her. Lina copied the actions she had seen, pulling back on the slide and extending the weapon on both hands before squeezing the trigger. Monet showed her how to load it before fitting her with a holster on her thigh and patting it when it was secured.
“You ready for tomorrow?” she asked Lina quietly.
“No. Are you?”
Alec
He didn’t think he’d ever get used to this. The entire ship vibrated, never stopping. It made his teeth chatter and his bones ache. Becca had spent the better part of the day attempting to make sense of the alien controls, and she’d surprised Izzy and Alec by understanding them. That didn’t make it much easier to handle.
The ship screeched a horrifying sound, the engine room a constant clatter of pumps and hissing air. It was nothing like the high-tech starship stuff he’d read about in the old paperbacks Tom had managed to squirrel away for him in Detroit. He’d expected the Overseers to have smooth lines, magical star drives, but it was more like human technology than he’d have liked.
“Alec, what’s our time?” Izzy asked. It was her turn to crouch near the pedals, her hands pressed inside them, taking orders from Becca in the seat above. If it wasn’t so terrible, Alec might have laughed at the sight.
“Only ten minutes before the drones hit Phoenix.” Alec zoomed on the map. “We’ll come upon a warehouse facility first. There’s no agri-centres in Arizona. There is another structure labeled under the Occupation beside the tower.”
Becca was sweating through her gray tank top, and Alec stood with a crack of his knees, using a rag to dab her brow. “Any water left?” she asked. Her skin was pallid and Alec was reminded she was still very sick. It was easy to forget by the way she was carrying herself.
“Right here.” Alec reached the bottle forward, and she used the straw stuck into the neck to drink long and deep.
“That’s better. Ten minutes is going to be tight. We could start at the warehouse, see if we can stop them the old-fashioned way.” Becca grinned, her eyes dark.
“Shoot them?” Izzy asked. “We haven’t tested the weapons systems yet.”
“How hard can it be?” Becca asked. “Alec, tap that one.” She stared at the round gray metal lever with a button on the edge.
“I don’t think I should.”
“Just do it. Don’t be so afraid. We stole a damned spaceship. Tap it!” Becca calling him out beat his better judgment, and he clutched the cold metal lever. Like everything else, it shook slightly in his grip.
The ground was nothing but red rock and stubby mountains. What harm could it do? He tilted the lever, seeing crosshairs move over the screen on the dash.
“Tap the dash, and you’ll see that through the window,” Becca told him.
He did as she suggested, and the intersecting lines blinked as
she lowered them toward a hillside. “Now!” she shouted, and he pressed the button.
Two missiles fired, and he watched them on the dash radar. When he glanced up to see out of the real window, he caught the glimmer of their orange thrusters before they detonated against the hill, sending chunks of rock upwards in their direction. Becca screamed, clearly thrilled, but Alec cringed as the stones cracked against the window.
“You don’t think this baby can handle some debris? Izzy, ten degrees on left, then ease right.” Becca smiled as she stared forward, and Alec followed her gaze.
The tower was a good ten kilometers away, but there it was, pronounced and jutting from the isolated earth in the middle of nowhere Arizona. He was glad they weren’t bringing the fight to the drones. He’d rather take his chances destroying the tower.
The radar showed something on it, and Alec touched the screen. “What are these?”
Becca glanced quickly and let out a string of curses. “Those are the hovercars. Damn it.”
Izzy’s hand jerked, and the ship lurched to the side. “Sorry. What are we going to do about the hovercars?”
Alec knew what they had to do. “Destroy them.”
“Good on you, Alec,” Becca said from the bucket seat. “Let’s slow our pace. Make them think we’re allies, then blast them to hell.”
Alec found her enthusiasm infectious and he even cracked a grin as he clutched the lever, centering the targeting feature. The tower was looming, and he couldn’t even guess how tall it was. Maybe a kilometer straight into the sky. It was wide on the bottom, narrowing as it rose up. Everything about it was alien. He’d never come across something like this on Earth, and the outside was built with the same lack of aesthetics as the Overseers’ vessels.
Blue lights blinked slowly along the edges and from the pinprick of a top. This tower controlled the Seekers and Trackers on the entire west side of the States, meaning it had one hell of a reach.
“One of the hovercars is approaching,” Becca said, snapping Alec’s attention to the radar. There it was, a triangle on the pixelated screen. The sun was almost set, and he was glad it was behind them. It gave them a slight advantage if the Overseers were relying on their eyes and not an automated computer program.
He locked the enemy into his crosshairs and fired. His breath held as he waited, and when the explosion occurred, their icon on his radar remained. “Damn it.”
“What’s happening up there?” Izzy asked.
“Just stay steady until I say the word, then press the left and pull the right. Hard. Understand?” Becca asked.
“Sure. But I don’t…”
The hovercar was closer, and it had commenced firing at them. Solid bullets rang into the hull of the ship, and Alec wondered if they had any sort of shields they hadn’t activated.
“Becca, what are we…?” Alec started, but her shout cut him off.
“Now, Izzy. Now!”
The ship darted forward and down, ramming the hovercar with a ferocity, and Alec was sent to the ground, landing hard on his back. Izzy had slid from her crouched position, and Becca let out a triumphant scream.
“Alec, stand up!” Becca ordered, and he jumped to his feet, which was difficult as their ship was heading directly for the tower. “Move to the pedals.”
Alec did as he was told and listened to a series of instructions. He tried to peer over the console, but it hurt his neck too much. Izzy took over the weapons controls, and somehow managed to destroy the other hovercar after three taps of the trigger.
His knees dug into the metal grated floor, and sweat dripped into his eyes, but he was playing his part, and that was all that mattered.
“Do we blast it?” Izzy asked, and Alec was sure she meant the tower. He glanced up and both women were waiting on his word.
“They’re attacking the warehouse now. Killing innocent people. Do it. Destroy the tower,” Alec said with conviction.
He heard the click of the trigger, and the celebration told him all he needed to know. Once they were clear of the site, Alec staggered to his feet, and their ship hovered toward the Phoenix warehouse.
“The drones are dead.” Alec stared at the tablet; the green and red icons were all gray. None of the thousands of drones gathered in the southern US were moving. He zoomed out, only to find hordes still moving along the East Coast, heading north. He didn’t have to be a genius to predict where their destination was. Detroit. This gave him an idea.
They arrived at the warehouse a handful of minutes later and slowed, trying to assess the situation before landing. The radar showed no other hovercars or Crushers in the vicinity, but that didn’t mean there weren’t Overseers nearby. As a team, they lowered the immense alien vessel to the rocks, the warehouse a third of a kilometer away.
Alec grabbed his handgun and moved for the exit. Izzy had two guns strapped to her chest and gripped a shotgun. For someone who came from a peaceful community, it was clear someone had taught her how to protect herself. Becca only had one hand, so she opted for a lighter weight Glock that Izzy had suggested.
The second the doors were opened, Alec heard the gunfire coming in their direction. He peered around the hull and found people beyond the fence holding guns. “Stop! We’re human!” He shouted until someone finally seemed to hear his cries, and he lifted his arms, peering across the parking lot at the warehouse. Hundreds of drones were there, Seekers piled on Trackers where they had fallen from the sky. Alec’s every instinct told him to hide from the deadly robots, but they were deactivated.
“We’re here to help! We just decimated the tower controlling these things.” Alec stepped out and was relieved when no one fired at him.
Becca and Izzy flanked him, neither of them willing to lower their weapons. Alec holstered his and stayed in front of them, his hands raised at chest level.
They were too late. Alec saw dozens of dead bodies on the ground, blasted to pieces by the Occupation robots.
“Who are you? How did you get a ship?” a man asked, his eye flinching and twitching as he held his gun aimed toward Alec.
“We’re friends. We’re with the Reclaimers, and we’re going to take back what’s ours,” Alec said.
A woman reached out, placing a hand on the man’s arm, and he lowered his weapon. “Do you have room for us?” she asked.
There were only about ten people standing among them, and Alec nodded. “We do.”
“Good. Come out! It’s safe!” she yelled, and the warehouse bay doors opened. Inside, there were hundreds more.
Chapter 38
Cole
Cole felt like he was in a trance. He jumped at the way the train shrieked as it started up and he felt certain that the diesel engine would make enough noise to alert everything in the country to their plot.
“You sure we’re okay?” he asked Soares for the fifth time in a half hour, raising his voice high enough so that a few of the Roamers turned to smirk at his evident nervousness. Soares sighed, producing the tablet and showing it to him. “We’re in the clear,” he said reassuringly.
“Why are they all heading to Detroit, then?” Cole asked, having already been given a few possibilities and not accepting any of them.
“Could be they’re preparing for the gate to open,” Soares told him. “Or they’re having their annual party,” he added with a shrug.
“Or they know we’re coming and want to stop us.”
Soares shrugged again, conveying the sentiment that if today was his day to die, then so be it; just so long as he took them down with him. He seemed calm on the eve of war, happy almost, which made Cole feel annoyed and a little inferior.
“Doesn’t matter a god damn,” Renata said over his shoulder, having eavesdropped on their conversation inside the packed train car. “They’re unable to communicate with each other anyways. Our people reckon the drones will power off or return to their charging stations or whatever.”
“Or they could go into autonomous mode and continue fighting,” Marisol offe
red, proving to Cole that there was no such thing as a private conversation on a train.
The signal to shut off the alien’s grid had been sent right before they departed, cramming all of their one-handed fighters into the rearmost four cars as the six ahead of them and behind the engine car were packed from floor to ceiling with explosives and wiring. He’d asked, a little late if he was honest, how they were planning to ride a thirty-ton bomb into enemy-held territory travelling at sixty miles per hour and have time to evacuate before they became part of the explosion. Renata laughed at him, not unkindly, and explained how they would cut the connection to the front part of the train.
“What about the drivers?” he’d asked, earning a cold stare from Renata and a quiet instruction from Soares to worry about his own part.
The train clattered rhythmically along the tracks as it swayed him from side to side in the press of people, all heavily armed and resting either in silence or muttering low conversations to those closest to one another.
He tried to imagine what kind of person would volunteer to die to start an attack, when he realized that he’d met so many people who would be more than willing to pay the ultimate sacrifice for a chance that their people would be able to live free.
Would he give his own life? Could he? That was a question he guessed he’d never find the answer to until he had that choice to make. He knew he’d risked his life for Lina, but that was different, he told himself.
“You stay close to me,” Soares said again, making Cole fight the urge for his eyeballs to roll upwards. “Whatever happens, you do what I say when I say it, okay?”
“Sure, Dad,” he said sarcastically, thinking he’d overstepped the mark as Soares’ face paled and he swallowed a lump. “Sorry,” Cole murmured, “I didn’t mean…”
“Forget about it, kid,” he answered, probably doing the best he could to offer physical reassurance in their cramped conditions, nudging his shoulder into Cole’s. “Just promise me you’ll stay close and keep your head up.” Soares kicked his toe against the Tracker drone nestled under Cole’s seat, which had folded onto itself as it did when offline. “And this thing is programmed to track you the whole time and take out anything threatening you, so don’t start a fight with me just in case, okay?”
Salvation (Rise Book 2) Page 24