Earth Shadows (Earthrise Book 5)

by Daniel Arenson

  They drank the mead. It was sweet and strong, and Addy thought about her ancestors. The fierce First Nations warriors, raising hell across the plains of ancient Ontario. The proud Anglo-Saxons, building castles, forging steel. The noble Danes, sailing the seas, fighting for their gods. As a mutt, Addy had always been envious of thoroughbreds, as she sometimes called them. Of warriors who had one ancestry, one culture to guide them. Warriors like Ben-Ari, an Israeli, descended of great leaders like King David and Moses; like Lailani, a Filipino, heir to a people who had defended their islands from conqueror after conqueror; like Sergeant Singh, a Sikh, who had proudly worn his turban and gone to battle with his ceremonial kirpan dagger; like Kemi, her family from Nigeria, an ancient land of beauty and nobility. They were all descended of but one nation each, finding strength in its customs and gods, something Addy had never been able to do. Yet now, standing here underground, drinking this mead, Addy realized that only one thing mattered here. She was human. She was from Earth. And all of humankind now fought as one nation.

  Addy tossed down her empty horn. "Let's rock and roll."

  They left the armory. They walked through the Ark, weapons in hand. From the other buried buses, survivors watched them, whispered prayers, cried out encouragements. A little girl ran out from a bunk, handed Addy a teddy bear, then fled and hid behind her mother. A frail veteran, well into his eighties, saluted as they passed, still wearing his old uniform and medals.

  This is why I fight, Addy thought. For all our faults, we humans can be noble. For all the shit we do, we can be kind. This is my species. We are not perfect. We are, maybe, deeply flawed. But when we're pushed into a corner, we can be wonderful. And that makes me proud.

  She led the squad down the corridor. The way led into an underground garage with concrete walls. An armored delivery truck stood here, its walls and windows bulletproof. Beside it stood seven motorcycles.

  "The Human Resistance's armored division," Addy said. "All aboard!"

  Jethro climbed into the truck. The rest chose motorcycles, two riders per bike. Steve climbed onto one motorcycle, patted the seat behind him, and Addy hopped on. She wrapped her arms around Steve and pressed her knees against his sides. The garage door opened, and they all rumbled up the slope. One truck. Seven motorcycles. Fifteen warriors. They emerged into the world.

  Outside in the sunlight, they lined up and idled, engines purring.

  "Fuck," Addy whispered.

  Devastation sprawled around them.

  Addy had not stepped aboveground since fleeing the slaughterhouse. She had fled here through a blazing forest. Before her now, she saw a wasteland.

  The forest was gone. All was ash, charred chunks of wood, and skeletons.

  She lowered her head. Memories filled her: herself as a youth, hiking here alone, fishing in the streams with rods she made from wood and string, climbing onto hilltops and howling at the moon like a wild animal. Sneaking into farmers' fields to steal fruit and tip cows, then running and laughing as they chased her. Shooting here with Jethro, knocking tin cans off fences, preparing for the war ahead. She had come here a few times with Steve and their friends, smoked pot in the forest, swam naked in the rivers, made love under the stars. It was here that Marco had taught her the names of the constellations, how to tell north from south and the time of night, like the planetarium in her childhood but a million times larger.

  So many memories of these good woods, running with skinned knees, hunting, laughing, weeping when she needed to weep without anyone to hear. All of that—gone, burnt like the rest of this world.

  "Fuckers." Steve spat.

  Addy nodded. "Fucking assholes." She lit a cigarette, took a puff, then raised her voice. "All right, you filthy alien killers! Roll out! To war!"

  "To war!" they cried out. "For Earth!"

  Addy tightened her grip on Steve's waist. "Giddy up."

  He pushed down on the throttle, and the motorcycle roared forth.

  Behind her, the armored truck and the other bikes followed.

  They rumbled along the train tracks. Riding through the forest was too risky; their wheels would leave a trail in the ash. The motorcycle rattled madly over the tracks, shaking every tooth in Addy's jaw and every bone in her body. Her rifle kept banging against her back, and her grenades kept slapping against her thighs. Behind her, the others followed, raising an unholy racket.

  "They'll hear us!" Steve shouted over the din.

  Addy patted her rifle. "Put on your earmuffs!"

  "What?" Steve glanced over his shoulder at her.

  "Your earmuffs!" She saw them dangling from his belt, put them on his ears, then raised her rifle. "This is going to get even louder."

  They increased speed, roaring south along the tracks through the burnt forest. Soon Addy saw it ahead, and she bared her teeth.

  The slaughterhouse.

  "Fuck," she muttered. "The bastards have been busy."

  Since Addy had fled that place, the marauders had fortified the slaughterhouse. Once an electric fence had surrounded the complex. Within only weeks, the marauders had raised stone walls, ten stories tall. Atop the walls, hundreds of marauders clung to webs that rose between iron poles like guard turrets. Beyond the walls, Addy saw several chimneys pumping out smoke—perhaps crematories burning whatever remained of the corpses. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air.

  It'll take more than our squad to destroy that place, she thought. We'd need a squad of tanks to tear down those stone walls. No more prisoners will be escaping from there again anytime soon.

  Addy watched a massive ship, a great cube of metal, rise from within the slaughterhouse, belching out smoke, roaring with fury. It was larger than her old apartment building. The dark vessel tore across the sky, finally vanishing above.

  A meat delivery, she thought. Bringing the flesh of humanity back to the marauders' homeworld.

  A single gateway broke the slaughterhouse wall. A line of humans—tens of thousands of them—still stretched across the plains, moving from the ruins of Toronto into the slaughterhouse. Hundreds of marauders surrounded the line, prodding the humans onward. Barbed wire surrounded the line of captives, further limiting the chance of escape. The captives were, essentially, traveling through a tunnel of barbed wire between Toronto's ruins and the slaughterhouse.

  We cannot break into the slaughterhouse, Addy thought. But we can tear through that line.

  She raised her rifle overhead. "Resistance, follow! For Earth!"

  "For Earth!" they shouted behind her.

  Steve yanked the handlebars, and their motorcycle veered off the train tracks and onto the dusty field. They stormed forth. Behind, the others followed. Clouds of dust roared around them, and their battle cries nearly drowned under the roar of the engines. They stormed toward the barbed wire road.

  Ahead, the marauders saw them.

  The aliens screeched. They leaped forth. They abandoned the line of prisoners. They raced toward the humans, moving at incredible speed, their claws kicking up dirt.

  The two forces charged toward each other. An armored truck with seven motorcycles roaring around it. Before them—dozens of marauders racing across the plains.

  As Steve pushed down on the throttle, Addy aimed her rifle across his shoulder. Around her, the other riders raised their own guns.

  "Fire!" Addy shouted and pulled the trigger.

  Her bullets blasted out. The kickback slammed into her shoulder, nearly knocking her off the bike. She tightened her knees around Steve, and she kept firing until she emptied her magazine. Her bullets tore into a marauder ahead, sparking off its metallic body, doing it no harm. Around her, the other riders fired their own bullets, but they hit no eyes.

  "Scatter!" Addy shouted, loading another magazine. "Meet up at the line!"

  The motorcycles spread out. They charged onward. The marauders ran closer, then leaped toward them.

  Addy fired again.

  She caught a marauder in midair. Her bullets entered its roar
ing jaws and one hit an eye. The creature crashed down, and the motorcycle nearly hit it. They veered aside, raising a cloud of dust, and rode around the corpse.

  "Addy, to your left!" Steve shouted, steering the bike downhill toward the slaughterhouse.

  She spun.

  A marauder raced toward them.

  She fired, knocking it back. It fell, rose, leaped forward again. The motorcycle roared past it, and the marauder ran close behind.

  "Steve, as fast as you can!" she shouted, pulled the pin off a grenade, and lobbed it behind her.

  Steve glanced over his shoulder. "Fuck!" He shoved down the throttle as far as it would go.

  The grenade burst behind them.

  Addy screamed as the shock wave blasted against her, nearly knocking the motorcycle over.

  They had moved just far enough to avoid the shock wave shattering their bodies. Addy was still thankful for her body armor; that blast had felt like a piano slamming against her. The marauder hadn't fared as well. The creature crumpled behind them, its severed legs twitching in the mud.

  "To the line!" Addy shouted. "Break through the line!"

  They roared onward. Another marauder leaped their way. Addy fired, knocked it back, and Steve swerved around it. The tires raised clouds of dirt. The line of human prisoners was close now, less than a kilometer away, but more marauders kept racing toward them. Dozens. Hundreds. One of the aliens leaped from an electrical pole and slammed into a motorcycle at Addy's side. Its riders hit the ground, limbs snapping, and the marauder tore them apart, laughing as the blood splashed. Another motorcycle leaped over a ditch, only for a marauder to slam into it in midair. Both fell, and the motorcycle spun madly in the dirt, tearing its riders apart.

  "Steve, the truck!" she shouted.

  Marauders were racing toward the armored vehicle, slamming against it, clawing at its walls. One alien managed to leap onto the roof.

  "Hold on!" Steve said, tugging the handlebars. They raced toward the truck, and Addy fired. Again. Again. She hit some marauders, knocking them off, and the armored truck rumbled over them, crushing the aliens beneath its wheels. Addy loaded another magazine, fired again, and hit the marauder on the roof. Four other motorcycles remained. They roared back toward the truck, firing their own guns, knocking off the creatures.

  They kept plowing their way through the aliens. A marauder cast a web, caught one of the motorcycles, and sent it flying. Still on their bike, Steve and Addy knelt, and the webbed motorcycle flew over their heads. Addy tossed another grenade, knocking back another marauder. Serrated legs flew, and a shard sliced Addy's shoulder, and other shards dug into her thigh. She bellowed in pain but kept firing.

  "Jethro, now!" she shouted. "Here!"

  Driving the armored truck, Jethro nodded at her. They were only a hundred meters from the fenced pathway that snaked across the plains, delivering thousands of humans from Toronto into the slaughterhouse. Jethro wheeled the truck forth, then slammed down hard on the brakes. The truck smashed through the fence. Human prisoners scurried back, and the truck spun around, knocking down more barbed wire, clearing an opening. Dirt flew. Barbed wire scattered.

  As marauders swarmed, Addy and the others fired, knocking them back.

  "Into the truck!" Jethro shouted. He leaped out from the driver's seat, opened the back hatch, and fired at a leaping marauder. "Climb in! Now!"

  Naked, bleeding prisoners began leaping into the back of the truck. Marauders scuttled everywhere, tearing people apart, scattering limbs.

  "Addy and Steve, cover me, damn it!" Jethro shouted, firing a gun with each hand.

  Steve pushed down on the throttle, and they roared forward, circling the truck on their motorcycle. The other motorcycles followed, roaring around the truck, scattering dirt and firing bullets. Addy kept shooting, tossing grenades, and holding the marauders back as more prisoners entered the truck.

  "Enough, enough, we're full!" Jethro shouted, trying to shove people back. "We're out of room!"

  "Let us in!" shouted a man.

  "Please, my child!" cried a mother.

  Addy shouted as she fired. "Load more into the front seat! Let them cling to the side. We can take a few more."

  Jethro nodded, gathered the mother and her child, and all but shoved them into the front seat. A marauder raced toward him, and Jethro gritted his teeth, pulled the trigger of his rifle, but the gun jammed.

  The marauder leaped onto him, jaws snapping.

  His gun useless, Jethro kicked.

  The marauder bit down hard, severing Jethro's leg.

  The bearded survivalist fell, leg gone above the knee, spurting blood. He writhed in the mud.

  Addy stared in terror.

  "Steve, let me off!" she shouted. He slowed down, and Addy leaped off the motorcycle and ran toward Jethro.

  The marauder reared before her, blocking her way. Jethro's severed leg still dangled between the creature's teeth.

  Addy recognized the alien. The three eyes. The crest of horns. The parasitic twin growing from his side.

  The marauder gulped down Jethro's leg and grinned at her. "Addy . . ." he hissed.

  Addy sneered. "Orcus."

  The memories flashed before her in a split second. The marauder mutilating Grant, shoving the tube down Addy's throat, and brutalizing her in the slaughterhouse. Among the marauders, he was the nastiest—and that, Addy knew, was saying something.

  Orcus licked his jaws. On his side, his conjoined twin—no larger than a toddler—licked its own small jaws.

  "I knew you'd return to me, Addy," Orcus said, his voice like slithering serpents.

  With a shriek, the creature charged toward her.

  Addy raised her rifle. She fired again and again. Orcus wouldn't slow down. None of her bullets hit his eyes. He leaped toward her, and Addy cringed, and—

  Steve reared on his motorcycle, flew through the air, and slammed into the marauder.

  Steve, his motorcycle, and Orcus hit the ground.

  "Steve!" she shouted, running toward him. The bike, human, and marauder lay in a tangled mess.

  Orcus reared from the wreckage, howling, prepared to feed.

  Screaming, Addy fired, hitting his face, hitting his parasitic twin, ignoring the shards of bullets that ricocheted back onto her.

  The deformed twin squealed, riddled with bullets.

  "Pain, pain!" the little creature cried.

  Orcus howled and scuttled behind the armored truck, hissing, drooling, screeching with fury.

  Addy panted. She wasn't sure if she had killed the parasite. She hoped that the little creature rotted. She wanted to chase Orcus, but she could barely stay standing.

  Only three motorcycles were still driving, circling the idling truck. Hundreds of marauders were racing toward them. Steve was pinned under the motorcycle. Jethro was still writhing in the dirt, clutching the stump of his leg. Corpses of prisoners lay around them, and they had no truck driver. Addy was dizzy, losing blood fast.

  She fell to one knee.

  Stay standing.

  She pushed herself up.

  Fight.

  With trembling hands, she loaded another magazine.

  For Earth.

  She fired, knocking back the nearest marauder. Letting her gun hang across her back, she knelt and grabbed the fallen motorcycle. It burned her hands. She howled in agony, digging her heels into the dirt, and pulled it off Steve.

  He moaned on the ground, his leg broken.

  "Up, you idiot!" She grabbed him, and he screamed. "Up! Into the truck!"

  She shoved Steve into the passenger seat, where he crowded with the mother and her child.

  A marauder raced toward her.

  Addy cursed and lobbed a grenade.

  She leaped behind the fallen motorcycle, flattened herself on the ground, and covered her head.

  The grenade exploded. Dirt, shrapnel, and shards of marauder flew, pattering against her body armor.

  Addy rose again. She yanked up Jethro. He wa
s still alive, but barely, and his stump still bled. She applied a tourniquet and pulled him up. She shoved him into the passenger seat too, cramming them in. Firing with one hand, she leaped into the driver's seat. She shoved down on the gas pedal.

  "We're going home!" she shouted out the window at the three remaining motorcycles.

  They stormed across the field, a hundred people in the back of their truck, more clinging to the roof. She slammed into marauders, plowing through them, crushing their bodies beneath the wheels. Another motorcycle went down, and only two now rose around the truck, providing some protection.

  We lost nearly the entire squad, Addy thought, gripping the steering wheel. But we saved a hundred prisoners. We saved more than we lost. Her eyes burned. It has to be worth it. It has to.

  She was a kilometer from the train tracks when the creature rose before her.

  Addy felt the blood drain from her face.

  Around her, the bikers screamed and fired their guns.

  The marauder ahead was huge. It was the size of the truck. Addy had never seen one this large. Five bloated faces grew from its abdomen, snapping jaws the size of cars. Its claws tore through the earth. It raced toward the truck, howling. One of its claws swiped, hitting a motorcycle, tossing it aside as easily as a child tossing a toy.

  Addy grabbed Jethro's grenade launcher.

  Holding the wheel with one hand, she leaned out the window.

  The massive alien roared ahead, thundering toward the truck, roaring from five mouths.

  Addy fired.

  The grenade flew and entered one of the snapping jaws.

  Addy yanked the steering wheel, pulling hard to the left, as the grenade exploded.

  Shards of metal and globs of flesh peppered the truck. In the rear view mirror, she saw the giant alien crumble, one of its legs gone. Mewling, it limped back toward the slaughterhouse.

  The lone surviving motorcycle rode alongside the truck; the redheaded girl rode on it. They reached the train tracks, and they began to drive along the rails, rattling, heading north through the burnt forest.

  We're going to make it back to the Ark, Addy thought, daring to hope.

  "Addy!" The roar rose from behind, guttural, inhumanly deep. "Addy Linden, my friend!"