A.L.I.V.E. (The A.L.I.V.E.Series Book 1)

by R. D. Brady

  “I don’t know. But whatever it was, it must have been pretty bad for them to order this.”

  Greg looked over his shoulder at Hank. A shiver ran through him. Did one of them hurt someone? “But we just got here. There has to be some kind of mistake. I mean, why would they make us come all the way out here just to terminate all the projects?”

  “I don’t know, Doc. But I’m going to need you to move out of the way.”

  “Just hold on a minute. Let me think.”

  “There’s nothing to think about. Orders are orders.”

  Greg stared up at the soldier and knew the man would follow through with his orders. And Greg wasn’t exactly unhappy with the decision, but what the hell was going on?

  Windover looked down at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re protecting him?”

  Greg put up his hands. “God no. But I am protecting you. He’s awake. Let me knock him out. And there’s a kill switch in the program. We can do it from out here.”

  Greg made his way to the console, part of him wondering what the hell was going on and part of him relieved. This morning’s display had terrified him. Greg had no problem with getting his future info from an autopsy. In fact, Hank’s brain might tell him quite a lot right now.

  Windover took up position next to him. Greg opened the camera feed in the bottom right of the monitor and then input a series of commands to activate the injection system in the box. Hank slammed his arms against the box and Greg jumped a good foot. Shaking, Greg punched enter. Hank flung himself against the hood of the box. Then it began to rock from side to side.

  Windover stared at the box, his eyes wide. “Holy crap.”

  “Yeah, let’s give the drugs a minute to work their magic. It seems the more humane approach.”

  Gradually the noises from the coffin slowed and then stopped altogether. Greg looked at the readings. Hank’s heart rate was really low.

  “He out?” Windover asked.

  “He should be.”

  “Should be?”

  “Well, earlier he came to really quick. But we just dosed him, so he should be out. You’re sure this is the order?”

  “Yeah, Doc.”

  “Okay.” Greg input a series of codes. And then his hand hovered over the enter key. Guilt rolled through him.

  Sorry about this, Hank.

  He hit enter. A light smoke covered the inside of the coffin. Hank’s body seized. Then seized again. Greg stared at the monitors, and with each second that passed, Hank’s heart rate slowed until finally, none was discernible.

  “It’s done.” Greg stepped back, his body shaking. He felt bad and he didn’t know why. Hank had been a monster and yet Greg had killed him while he was captive. It didn’t seem fair.

  “You sure?” Windover asked.

  Greg nodded. “Yeah. So now what?”

  Windover shrugged. “I don’t kno—” Another beep from his phone cut him off. He glanced down. “Check that. Let’s go.”

  “Go? Where?” Greg asked as Windover grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door.

  Windover opened the door. “All levels from seven down are being evacuated. Let’s move.” He hustled down the hallway, and Greg had no choice but to follow. They headed for the elevator at the end of the hall. They passed three labs and were passing the fourth when gunfire burst out from behind the door, followed by a scream. Windover shoved Greg behind him, pulling up his weapon.

  Something heavy slammed against the door and Greg jumped. Behind them, the elevator opened. But so did the door. A man in a lab coat soaked in blood flew out of the room and into Windover. Greg slammed to the ground, Windover on top of him. All the air left his lungs and he gasped for breath, but nothing came. Windover fired and Greg turned his head, trying to see what he was aiming at.

  It was a gray alien with a large head. But this was no tiny cute alien. This thing stood at least seven feet tall. The alien’s body looked emaciated, his skin so dry it was flaking off. His eyes were black, but something seemed to roll through them as he looked at Windover. Windover began to scream, grabbing his head.

  And then the gray stumbled back as round after round slammed into him. The being crumpled to the ground, white liquid soaking the ground around him.

  A hand grabbed Greg’s arm, pushing Windover off him and yanking Greg up. “Greg, are you hurt? Greg?”

  Greg gulped in air and yanked his gaze from the being. He stared into Leslie’s deep brown eyes. “I love you.”

  Leslie rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Yup, you’re fine.” She pulled him down the hall as a loud thump sounded from the elevator shaft.

  “Windover?” he asked.

  Leslie shook her head. “He’s gone.” Greg turned to look, but Leslie stepped in his way, blocking his view.

  “Les?”

  “Time to go.” She pulled him down the hall. “You got your ID?”

  Running, Greg grabbed around his neck for the lanyard, but it was gone. He’d taken it off when he’d fallen asleep. “It’s in the office.”

  “Shit. We’re going to need it.” Leslie stopped at the office door, swiping her card over the access panel.

  “Why do we need it if you have yours?'"

  “In case we get separated.”

  Greg stopped short. “What?”

  “Go!” Leslie yelled, pushing him into the room.

  Greg nearly tripped over his feet as he sprinted for the back wall. He grabbed the lanyard from where it lay on the ground next to the couch, slipping it over his head. He’d almost reached Leslie when he stopped dead, a cold sweat bursting out across his skin.

  “Greg, what are you doing? We need to go.”

  But Greg ignored her, turning slowly toward the enclosure. The coffin was still in there, but it had crashed to the ground.

  The door had been torn off. And he could see inside.

  Fear poured through him as he turned back to Leslie. “It’s Hank. He’s gone.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chris’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he heard the gunshot. There was only one lab in this section of the floor—Alvie’s. He ran down the hall. He passed three people on his way—all of them were heading for the exit and none of them were Maeve.

  As he reached the door, the emergency siren sounded. Chris paused. Now what?

  He fumbled for his card and shoved open the door as soon as it buzzed. Maeve stood in the glass enclosure, Alvie behind her. Henning stalked toward her, his baton in his hand.

  “Henning!” he yelled.

  Henning turned. Chris saw the beginning of what was going to be a nasty black eye. And the anger in his taut form was impossible to miss. Henning glared back at him.

  Chris held his gaze, moving forward cautiously. He unstrapped his Taser, keeping his hand near it. “You all right, man?”

  Henning paused before inclining his head toward Maeve. “This egghead thinks she can avoid orders.”

  Chris forced a smile to his lips. “They never understand, do they?”

  Henning nodded. “Well, how about we show her?”

  Chris stepped into the enclosure. “You read my mind. Let me handle it, though. I’ve had to deal with her for months now.”

  Henning gripped his baton.

  “Seriously, man, all hell’s breaking loose. You should get moving.”

  Henning stared at Maeve, hate in his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. She’s not worth it.” He nodded at Chris. “I’ll see you in a few.”

  “Yeah,” Chris said as Henning headed to the door.

  As the door closed behind him, Maeve closed her eyes, her shoulders dropping. “Thank you, Chris.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. What’s going on?”

  “They’ve ordered all projects terminated.”

  Maeve’s mouth dropped open. “But that's got to be wrong. I mean, they can’t be talking about Alvie."

  Chris nodded, feeling his stomach clutch. “It includes him too.”

  “Well, what are
we going to do?”

  Chris pulled his weapon from his holster. “I don’t have a choice, Maeve. I’m a soldier and it’s an order.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Maeve stared at Chris, her mind not truly accepting what was happening. “Chris, they can’t mean Alvie.”

  “It’s base wide. That includes him.”

  Maeve noticed for the first time that Chris’s sidearm was in his hand at his side. Her pulse rate spiked and she stared at him in disbelief. “What are you doing? You can’t be serious.”

  “Maeve, I’m a soldier. I follow orders.”

  Maeve put her hands out, keeping herself between Chris and Alvie. “What about moral objections? Aren’t you allowed to object to an order you find morally wrong?”

  Pain twisted Chris’s face. “I’m sorry, Maeve. But if they want him dead, there’s a reason for it.”

  “No, there’s not. You said this is a base-wide order. They’re not considering this on a case-by-case basis. They’re throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Alvie’s not dangerous. He’s done nothing to anyone. He doesn’t deserve to die.”

  Maeve made sure to keep herself in front of Alvie, not giving Chris a shot as she stepped toward him, realizing that she was stepping between Alvie and a gun yet again. “Please, Chris, you know him. You know him. And I know you. You can’t do this. You won’t be able to live with yourself after.”

  Chris stepped to the side, aiming his weapon at Alvie. “I’m sorry, Alvie.”

  “He’s part human, Chris.”

  Chris tore his gaze from Alvie, shock splashed across his face. “What?”

  “Alvie. He’s part human. He’s not completely alien. His mother was human.”

  “Wait, but that—I don’t understand.”

  “I was able to check his older files. There was a genetic profile in there. Alvie is a hybrid, part human, part alien. You cannot kill him. That’s murder.”

  “Maeve, you can’t just say things—”

  “I’m not. It’s in his file. He was created at Wright-Patt. But the genetic profile is clear: he has a human mother.”

  Chris’s jaw hung open. Then it snapped shut and he shook his head. “Maeve, it’s an order. I have to—” Chris’s words cut off and he went still.

  Heart pounding, Maeve moved toward him, but Chris’s eyes were unfocused. “Chris?” She gently pushed the gun away from herself and Alvie, so it was aimed at the far wall.

  Chris shook himself from his daze and stared at Alvie, then he lowered his weapon, his hand shaking.

  “What happened?” Maeve asked.

  “He—he showed me myself. And you.”

  The PA system blared to life. “Code 12. Repeat, Code 12.”

  Chris jolted.

  “What’s a Code 12?” Maeve asked.

  “Base-wide evacuation.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Greg stood locked in place, staring in horror at the tipped-over coffin. Had something broken in and stolen Hank? He stared up at the ceiling where part of it had been ripped away near the crane, looking for a clue.

  But somewhere deep inside, Greg knew the truth: Hank had played possum again, and the drugs meant to kill him had just ticked him off.

  “What do you mean Hank’s gone?” Leslie demanded.

  “We administered the death cocktail. He flatlined. But his body’s gone. He’s gone.”

  The PA system blared to life. “Code 12. Repeat, Code 12.”

  “What’s a Code 12?” Greg asked.

  “Base-wide evacuation. So we’ll deal with this later. We need to go.” Leslie gripped his arm and yanked him out into the hall. At the end of it by the elevators, another one of the gray beings appeared. Leslie pulled Greg in the opposite direction and into the stairwell. As they entered it, her radio buzzed.

  “You want to take that?” Greg asked as he started to run up the stairs next to her.

  He’d reached the landing of the next floor when she put out an arm, clotheslining him in the chest. “Ow.” He rubbed his chest, knowing that was going to leave one hell of a bruise.

  “Listen,” Leslie whispered.

  He could hear some thumps from the stairs above and then a scream.

  Leslie grabbed him, pushing open the nearest door, and shoved him in, quickly closing it behind her. She yanked her phone off her belt, reading the screen. “It’s West. I’m supposed to meet my team out front.”

  A thump sounded on the landing just outside the door. This time, Greg grabbed Leslie’s arm and pulled her down the hall at a run. “That sounds like a really good idea. They have lots of guns, right? Let’s go find them.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chris paced Maeve’s lab, his gaze shifting between Alvie and the door. “We can’t take him.”

  Maeve crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, maybe you can’t. But I’m not leaving without him.”

  Chris honestly didn’t know what to do. Destroying Alvie was an order. And never in his life had he disobeyed an order. But at the same time, he could not kill him. Even without Maeve intervening, he wouldn’t have been able to do it. But now Maeve wanted to take him with them—to help him escape. The idea was ludicrous, even if the thought of leaving Alvie behind broke Chris’s heart.

  “Maeve, the hallways will be crawling with soldiers. Even if we somehow manage to get him out of the building, then what? Nothing’s changed. He’s an alien.”

  Maeve cut in. “He’s only part alien.”

  “Yeah, but he looks all alien. We can’t just run off with him.”

  “I know that. But they don’t know him like we do. If they did, they would never order this. We just need time to convince them. That’s all I’m asking for—time.”

  Chris knew she would lay down her life for Alvie. Alvie himself stood holding onto Maeve’s hand, his large eyes staring back at Chris. And Chris knew Alvie would do the same for her.

  Maeve winced and rubbed her head.

  “Maeve?”

  “It’s nothing. It’s just a headache.”

  Chris looked between Maeve and Alvie and had the distinct impression he was missing something. “Look, we can try, but you know this is probably not going to work, right?”

  Maeve nodded, tightening her grasp on Alvie. “It will work.”

  But Chris knew that she was wrong. Getting Alvie out of the building was one thing, but convincing the powers that be that he should be allowed to live—that was an all-new type of miracle she was asking for.

  The number eleven filtered through his mind, and Chris went still. “What the hell was that?”

  Maeve bit her lip, glancing down at Alvie and then back at Chris. “He wants to go to level 11.”

  “No, absolutely not. That’s where the breakout began.”

  Maeve’s eyes grew large. “Breakout? Something got out?”

  “A lot of somethings got out. Below level seven is complete chaos—violent chaos.”

  The number 11 slipped through his mind again.

  Chris shook his head. “Alvie, you don’t understand. We need to get out of this building. You don’t know what’s roaming these halls. We need to go up, not down.”

  Chris held his head as the number 11 began to waft through it unendingly. He stared at Alvie. “No, Alvie. No.”

  The number 11 practically shouted into his mind. Next to him, Maeve’s hands flew to her head. “Ah.”

  Chris grabbed her. “What?”

  “We need to go to level 11.”

  “We can’t—”

  “I don’t know what’s going on. But Alvie says we need to go there. And that means we’re going.”

  Chris glared at her. “Maeve, you’re not in charge, and he certainly isn’t. Which means I am. And we are getting out, not going deeper into this building. Got it?”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio

  John had spent the morning running from meeting to meeting. BOSAC’s move of all alien-related projects to 51 had rea
lly disrupted the base’s routine. Not to mention irking more than one individual who had spent years working on a project only to be unceremoniously dumped from it when they failed to meet the new security clearance requirements. He was scrambling, trying to put out fires, calm people down, and all the while he cursed Martin Drummond.

  It had been years since he’d thought of the man. And John was fine with it that way. The man had nearly killed Alice, Maeve, Alvie, even himself. Drummond had taken it upon himself to step beyond his bounds as a CIA agent. And without Senator Billingsley, John didn’t know what would have happened.

  But now Maeve was within Drummond’s reach. And that made John awfully uneasy. His phone rang, and John looked up at the ceiling with a sigh.

  Is five minutes of quiet too much to ask?

  But he reached over and pushed the lit button. “What is it, Gavin?”

  “Greta Schubert is on line one. She said it’s important.”

  “All right, patch her through.” John waited a second before the second light on his phone blinked and then picked up the call. “Greta, how are you? All packed?”

  “No, and that’s why I’m calling. I just received an email that my transfer has been cancelled.”

  John frowned. “Cancelled?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “No. You’re one of about a dozen people who were supposed to head over next week. Was there a reason given?”

  “Nothing. They just said the project was cancelled.”

  “The project?” John felt his chest tighten. If the project was cancelled, that could mean only one thing—Alvie was going to be destroyed. Maeve would be beyond devastated. Her mother’s death had hit her hard. Alvie had been a huge part in her getting her through that. He couldn’t imagine what Alvie’s death would do to her. But he knew it would probably hit her harder. Because in her mind, she’d view Alvie’s death as a murder.

  And John thought she was probably right on that count. “I’m going to look into it. I’ll get back to you.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Greta said before hanging up. John quickly dialed two of the other individuals who were supposed to be heading out to 51 as well. They both reported that they’d had their transfers cancelled. Which meant it wasn’t just Alvie’s project that had been cancelled. It had been all of them.