The Invasion Trilogy Box Set [#1-#3]

by Lundy, W. J.

  Ernie grinned and pulled back a blanket on his lap. He had a small handheld police scanner. He held it up and clicked it on; hearing nothing but static, he powered it back off. “It was alive with reports up ‘til about four hours ago. That’s when the fire department called in for help. We heard their distress calls; said they were pulling back to the south. Later, those men out front, they got shot up and their vehicles wrecked.

  “That street out front will get you killed. You’re gonna have to stick to the alleys. These boys can help you.”

  Tyree raised his hand and stepped closer to face Ernie, moving behind his chair and leaning over his shoulder. “I told you, Papa, we ain’t leaving. Now stop this.”

  “It's okay, Ty,” the old woman said. “Your grandfather and I already discussed it; it’s all been figured on. You know I can’t go running and jumping over no fences, and no way I’d go an’ leave him here alone. When you get to the island, you can tell ’em where we be, and they’ll come back for us. I got plenty here to take care of your Papa.”

  Tyree looked down and shook his head, then stepped away while looking toward the hall and staring at the door. James moved from the kitchen and hugged the woman. “Don’t make us go, Nana,” he said, his voice breaking.

  The old man cleared his throat and looked back at Jacob. “Now, y’all can take what you need. The boys scrounged up plenty from the empty units, but you need to be going quick. It’s been quiet for a couple hours, but you can bet it won’t last.”

  “Wait!” Murphy said loud enough to silence them. “Tell me about what happened out front; you saw it?”

  Tyree turned away and looked at Murphy. “I saw it… I was on the roof.”

  “Who did it, and how?”

  “It was a bunch of trucks and a school bus; they were driving down the center of the street, then the people… you know them, the ones on the news—”

  “The Darkness,” Stephens said.

  “Yeah, it was them. They come out and filled the street. They were pushing at the vehicles; you know, crowding around them and trying to open the doors to get in. But the trucks didn’t stop; they just kept going, slowly pushing them out of the way. Then it was like… shooting from everywhere. The trucks tried to speed up through the crowd, but more of ’em—these different ones with guns—they started shooting. The army guys, they started shooting back.

  “Well, one of them things had a bazooka or something because it blew a hole right through one of those tanks out there; the one out front.”

  Stephens nodded. “Yeah, and then what?”

  “Well, mostly the vehicles kept going right through it, leaving that one out front to burn. Later, some helicopters flew by and I waved to them from the roof, but they didn’t stop. When I looked back at the street… they were all gone… every last one of ‘em.

  “I still been seeing them. Right before you showed up, a group moved down the street, all carrying rifles. A woman ran to them for help… they tackled her and drug her off.”

  “Where did they take her?” Stephens asked.

  “I don’t know. Just gone… up the street somewhere.”

  “You think you can get us to Northerly Island through all of that?” Murphy asked.

  “No… no way. Not through the city—too many people and too many places for them to get at us. You’re talking ten miles on foot. If it was that easy, I would have already tried.”

  “So, think about how you would go now. How would you go if you had to, without being seen?”

  “Go to the lake,” Nana said.

  Murphy looked at her. “Yes, ma’am, that’s where we want to get.”

  “No, I mean straight to the lake; you could go through the Oak Woods Cemetery and then to the harbor,” Nana said.

  Murphy looked at her, then back to Tyree.

  Tyree nodded his head. “She’s right. It’s only a couple miles if we cut through the graveyard.”

  Stephens chuckled. “For real man? You want to go through the friggin' graveyard? In the middle of the night?”

  Murphy put up a hand, silencing Stephens as he got to his feet and stepped toward Tyree. “Take me to the roof and show me the route.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jacob followed the others back down the hallway, into the stairwell, and out a roof access door. Jacob used a sleeve to wipe his forehead; it was raining again and hot. The humidity made the air feel heavy and sweat instantly built up under the vest on his back. The rain drizzled in and tapped at the rubber and pea-stone surface of the roof as Tyree led them to the north corner. Just before he reached the end, he crouched low and waited for them to gather around.

  “I’ve seen them down there all around those streets. So, watch yourself,” Tyree said, before turning back and moving slowly toward the edge. He moved right to the end, and then squatted back on his heels behind a stubbed wall that ran the perimeter of the roof.

  Jacob hung back as Murphy scooted next to Tyree and looked out over the edge. “What am I looking at?” he whispered.

  Tyree reached into a light backpack he’d carried with him up to the roof and pulled out a red collapsible toy telescope that he handed off to Murphy. Murphy looked at it in his hand. “Really? How old are you, man?”

  “Gimme a break, I found it in one of the apartments,” Tyree said.

  Murphy grinned and extended the scope. He looked out over the edge of the building and down at the dark streets. Jacob watched him scanning from left to right before lowering the scope and looking back. “Okay, again, what am I looking at?”

  Tyree pointed in the distance. “See out there at the end of this road—the bridge? We gotta go all the way down this street about five blocks, under the Skyway, and then under the el tracks. After that, we’ll get to the cemetery wall; it’s about eight feet high. There’s lower spots than that, but there’s barbed wire at them places.”

  “Walls and barbed wire? What kind of cemetery is this?” Jacob whispered.

  “Come on, man, it’s Chicago. Don’t act like you never heard of fences to keep folks out,” Tyree said.

  “Okay… back on topic. What’s it look like inside?” Murphy asked.

  “It’s big, man—like a park; lots of places to hide, trees, and small lakes. A road goes right down the middle, almost all the way to Jackson Park. From there, it’s right to the golf course and lakeshore.”

  Murphy scanned with the scope and handed it off to Stephens, who took his spot near the edge of the roof. Murphy moved away, pulling Tyree with him. “This harbor; you sure there will be boats there?”

  Tyree shrugged. “It’s a harbor, ain’t that where they stay? Summertime, docks should be full this time of year. Papa used to keep a boat there; he used to take us out all the time before he went in the chair and had to sell it. But I ain’t exactly been out fishing lately, ya know.”

  “Okay, so you and your brother, you have weapons?”

  Tyree shook his head. “James ain’t my brother; he’s my cousin… and no, just the pump gun and we can’t take that. Nana wouldn’t give it to me, anyway.”

  Jacob reached down and un-holstered his pistol. He looked at Tyree and held it to him. “Take this; I’m no good with it,” he said.

  Murphy nodded. “Okay, good, but you’ll need to find a bat, bar, or whatever; you and your bro—cousin need to be able to fight. Let’s get back downstairs. I want to be moving while it’s still quiet.”

  The old woman stuffed bags of food and bottles of water into their already over-stuffed backpacks. Jacob looked away while the boys hugged her and promised to return. He didn’t want to be torn again by thoughts of his wife and daughter… where they may be, if they made it to the island, were they evacuated, or were they on the bus that was attacked on the road? He wanted to push it out of his mind, but he wasn’t trained to act like the soldiers that were guiding him, the ones that could turn off emotion and fight. Jacob tried to mimic them, but he failed.

  Now there would be another burden on the two men in unif
orm—civilians like him to slow the soldiers up and possibly cause more problems. Jacob hoped it wouldn’t be too much. He watched as Tyree released his grandmother, turned away from her, and used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away tears.

  “It’s okay,” Stephens whispered to him. “We’re gonna send someone back for ’em.”

  Tyree clenched his jaw and nodded his head before looking away. He reached down and put on his backpack. “I know,” he whispered. He stepped off toward the stairwell, leading the way with a small flashlight.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Stephens untied the door.

  “Dark from here on out; go on and cut that light,” Stephens whispered.

  After the light was cut, he took the lead position and opened the door to the dark lobby. As Jacob had done before, Tyree kept his hand on Stephens’ armor and was led helplessly into the lightless lobby. James did the same, holding Tyree. Murphy gave them a moment to move ahead then looked back at Jacob. He flashed a thumb up then dropped his goggles and stepped into the dark with Jacob holding his gear.

  They moved slowly, but it wasn’t graceful or quiet. Jacob heard one of the boys breathing heavily, nearly hyperventilating. Trying to calm him, Stephens whispered, “It’s okay, bro, I got you; we’re almost out.”

  Objects were kicked across the floor, causing gasps; their shoes seemed to slap heavily on the tile and bounced eerie echoes off the walls. Murphy suddenly stopped, and Jacob bumped into him, his rifle clacking against the back of Murphy’s pack. Jacob felt Murphy’s gloved hand push him back against a wall. He sensed, and heard, the boys standing next to him. One of them was trembling; his legs were shaking, every movement making a noise. “Just relax, I’m here,” Tyree whispered.

  “Wait one; we’re gonna pop the door, peek outside, and we’ll be back for you all,” Murphy whispered.

  Jacob heard them quickly step away. The door opened and the clang of a chain on the south side rang as it was pulled tight. Jacob could see a faint slice of moonlight cut through the narrow opening in the door. Stephens was kneeling with the bolt cutters in his hands. He stretched them through the opening and strained to squeeze the arms together. After a loud clang, the chain was cut and fell to the hard concrete.

  Slowly, Stephens pushed the door all the way open, walked out, and pressed against it while keeping his rifle up. With the door fully open, blue light spilled into the lobby. The rains had stopped, and the sky was clearing, allowing some stars to peek through. He pointed at the men along the wall and signaled for them to move. Jacob reached out a hand and helped guide James to the door. Two steps in and the boy panicked.

  “No, I can’t,” he said, pushing off violently and sprinting for the stairwell. They could hear his footfalls and the stairwell door fly open and slam shut.

  Tyree turned to go after him just as Stephens raised and fired his rifle. The bright muzzle flash filled the void in the lobby. “Leave him! There’s no time; move your ass!” Murphy shouted. “Get out here!”

  “No, we gotta go back,” Tyree yelled.

  Murphy grabbed the man by the collar and shoved him forward. “You stay, and you’ll lead those things back to the building!”

  Jacob stepped out, pushing Tyree ahead of him, and Murphy quickly shut the door, shoving hard to feel the lock catch as it closed before he knotted the chain through the handle for extra security. Murphy then slapped Stephens on the back, indicating he was ready to move just as two rounds impacted the building directly above his head. Stephens already had his rifle up and was returning quick-aimed shots of twos while Murphy pushed the others ahead.

  Jacob stopped and pivoted while attempting to raise his rifle. Murphy reached out and shoved him forward yelling, “Run!”

  Stephens lowered his weapon and cut away at a sprint, catching up fast, already passing Jacob and pulling ahead. Sprinting with his head down, Tyree was close behind him. Jacob ran down the right side of the street, struggling to keep up and feeling the pain in his ribs and hip. Murphy moved alongside him and turned out as Stephens stopped at a street corner, then pressed against a building to look down the street to the left.

  Murphy pushed Jacob ahead. “What happened back there?” Murphy whispered.

  Stephens briefly looked back over his shoulder. “I saw three of ‘em and one had a rifle.”

  “You sure it was one of them?” Murphy questioned.

  “Nope, but I know it wasn’t one of us,” he answered. “Corners clear. Cover me while I move. Send ‘em when I get to the other side.”

  “Roger; got you covered,” Murphy snapped back.

  Stephens looked left and right one more time before sprinting to the far side of the street. Murphy waited a count of ten then slapped Tyree to follow. After another brief count, he slapped Jacob.

  Jacob ran into the center of the street and nearly fell while clumsily moving forward. Struggling under the weight of the vest, he had to concentrate on his footfalls but felt as if his legs were wobbly and he would fall at any moment. He ran full speed, stepping up onto the opposing curb. Failing to slow down and not seeing clearly, he lost his footing and slapped face first into the building.

  Tyree caught him as he bounced back. Looking around, Jacob felt the sting on his face but shook it off, aimed his rifle out, and waited as he heard Murphy running across the street. Murphy dropped against the wall between them then slapped Stephens on the back and pushed him forward, telling him to move out.

  Out of immediate danger now, they walked ahead slowly and hugged the left side of the street. The neighborhood changed to small storefronts, mixed in with the apartment buildings. They crossed another street and fell in alongside a three-story brick building.

  Cars were crammed in tight along the fully congested street. Ahead, Jacob could begin to see the Skyway overpass. They paused and knelt to look down at the slowly descending elevation of the street as it dropped under the highway. Jacob strained his eyes trying to see into the dark shadows below the overpass. As he looked, the shadows appeared textured and to have movement. He blinked his eyes and looked away, trying to focus. They appeared like smoke as the shadows moved and twisted to roll in on themselves.

  “We have to find another way,” Stephens whispered. “I don’t wanna go down there.”

  The smoke moved up the road in their direction. As the mass caught the moonlight, they materialized into a wide-bodied parade of men and women pressing against each other shoulder to shoulder and spreading out as they escaped the confines of the tunnel. As they moved into the light, the mass picked up speed, spread out, and flooded the open ground like water running from a hose.

  Murphy turned to the building and Jacob followed his gaze; the windows were barred and there was no time to cross the street. Jacob spun to look behind them at the way they’d come and saw it would be a long run to the corner to get to any cover. Murphy grabbed Jacob’s arm. “No time… into the street,” he whispered.

  “What? No way!” Tyree said from where he hid behind Stephens.

  “Get under the cars. We have to let them move past us,” Murphy ordered as he rushed hunched over to the curb. Jacob ran up the street in the direction of the approaching mass, following Murphy. Searching for the right spot, they found a long and wide delivery truck with cars pressed against it on either side. Murphy removed his pack and tossed it under the back bumper before dropping to his belly and low crawling in after it. Jacob followed and did the same then he felt Tyree and Stephens crawl up close behind him.

  Jacob crawled onward, thankful that the vehicle was high enough that he could lift his head. Murphy was nearly to the front of the vehicle, under the engine. He was lying on his back with his rifle on his chest, head to the side. Jacob moved to his heels but stayed on his belly. He laid his head flat against the damp pavement just as the first of the Others moved in alongside the truck.

  They didn’t shamble along or stagger like drunks; they walked calmly, like mall walkers or pedestrians on a busy sidewalk. They didn’t moa
n or breathe heavy, no talking or simple chatter; just moving one after another to form lines that twisted through the maze of congested cars. They smelled—not like human body odor or retched flesh—but like sulfur, burning rubber, or the fresh spray of a skunk—only sweeter and not so pronounced. It wafted under the truck and surrounded Jacob and Murphy.

  Jacob lifted his arm and forced his face into his sleeve. A car alarm far ahead sounded, probably as one of the black-eyes bumped into it. The mass seemed stimulated by the noise; their pace picked up and they moved along at a near jog. When they thinned out, stragglers ran to catch up. Jacob looked at the dial on his watch; they’d lain under the truck for nearly twenty minutes—the mass seemed endless. Every time he thought they’d all passed, another group would move out and run to join the others.

  After a long bout of silence, Murphy looked back at them. “Wait here,” he whispered then quietly rolled to his belly and crawled forward. He moved out in front of the truck and took a knee. He dropped his hand and signaled for Jacob to join him. Jacob began crawling until he cleared the front bumper. Murphy pointed to a small Volkswagen ahead on the left. Jacob nodded and, staying hunched over, moved beside it to take a kneeling position.

  He heard a light clang of metal on metal and froze. Turning his head, he could see that Murphy had heard it too. The soldier dropped and spun on his heels. He lifted his rifle and took a step forward, looking high over a car to their front. Rapid-fire shots rang out and the windshield of the delivery truck exploded.

  Murphy returned fire, providing cover while Stephens rolled from under the vehicle and let his weapon join the fight. “Get your rifle up, Jacob!” Murphy said.

  Jacob hesitated and looked around, searching for cover, as he witnessed the two soldiers square off to the threat, weapons up, firing, and walking directly into the enemy. Tyree was quickly on his feet and following close behind Stephens, the pistol gripped tight by both hands while he fired ahead. Jacob took a deep breath and stepped off before stopping again. “The bags,” he called out, talking about the rucksacks at the back of the truck.