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

by R. D. Brady

  “You guys run!” Leslie yelled.

  Maeve turned around, wrapping Snap in her arms, and sprinted. Greg ran next to her and Alvie somehow kept pace with them, Pop perched on his back and Crackle cuddled to his chest.

  Man, that little guy’s fast.

  Behind them, an explosion sounded. Greg whirled around as Leslie stormed up to them. “Go, go, go!” she yelled.

  Behind her he saw that the truck Hank had been on was now a ball of fire.

  Leslie grabbed his arm, turning him around. “Move it, Greg!”

  He nearly tripped over his feet as he turned because at the last second, he caught sight of a dark shadow bursting through the flames. “He’s coming!”

  Maeve, Alvie, and the triplets were just ahead of them. Maeve turned at the corner of the next building, ducking down an alley.

  Greg started to follow.

  “Look out!” Leslie crashed into him, rolling him away from the alley as a flaming piece of debris landed at the entrance, blocking the way.

  She grabbed his arm and yanked him forward. Greg glanced back. “I—I think Hank threw that.”

  “Yeah, he’s a real asshole,” Leslie said, not breaking her stride. “Keep moving.”

  Greg ran but looked behind him, terrified Hank would follow Maeve and the triplets. But as Hank reached the entrance to the alley, he blew past it, keeping his gaze on Leslie and Greg. Greg felt a small relief that he hadn’t gone after Maeve and company but complete terror that Hank seemed completely focused on them.

  “Head for that hangar. I’ll be right behind you,” Leslie ordered as she took cover behind a dumpster and took aim at Hank.

  Greg let out a yell, tripping and landing on his chest. Cursing his clumsiness, he scrambled to his feet and ran for the hangar door. He slammed into it with a groan, pushing on the door. It took him a second to realize it pulled open.

  God damn it. He yanked it open and launched himself inside. There was a giant stealth bomber on the far side of the hangar and no movement. Crates two aisles deep lined the wall to the side of the bomber and Greg made a beeline for them.

  He ducked behind the crates, sliding to the ground in between the two rows. He struggled to hear any sound but he couldn’t hear anything above the blood roaring in his ears.

  He tried to calm his breathing enough so that he could at least hear what was going on around him. He thought he heard the creak of the door. He went still, straining to hear, but he couldn’t make out any other noise. He waited, knowing Leslie would find him.

  No sound came from the hangar, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t alone. He scurried to the back of the crate closest to the exit and glanced out and saw a Jeep ten feet away. Beyond it was the back door of the hangar.

  Movement from the corner of his eye directed his attention up. His breaths came out in pants as his eyes lasered in on the movement. The alien moved along the rafters of the hangar, keeping in the shadows. He couldn’t tell if it was Hank, but its large body was surprisingly agile. Then it swung down onto the wing of the stealth bomber, scanning the room. Its head swung back and forth, scanning the area.

  Greg ducked his head back before Hank could catch sight of him, his mouth dry.

  Now what do I do?

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  Chris stayed at the edge of the buildings, keeping low while scanning windows and rooftops for the shooter. The shooter had been quiet, which meant he’d probably moved to another position. Now Chris just had to figure out where that was.

  A voice came from down the road. Chris ducked into a doorway. A few seconds later, two men in lab coats ran by.

  “We should have saved him. We could have—”

  “We didn’t have a choice. Did you see that thing? We’re lucky we got out.”

  “Stop right there,” a third voice called out. Chris peeked out from his hiding spot and saw a man in fatigues stop the two men. He recognized him—Henning.

  The two men stood with their hands up. The dark-haired one spoke quickly. “Thank God. There are—” Two gunshots cut off his words and both men slumped to the ground.

  God damn it.

  Chris tightened his fist. Why the hell had he shot the men? They were no threat. A chill ran through him.

  They’re cleaning up, taking out all witnesses.

  He knew they’d thought that after the royal clusterfuck at the main headquarters, but Chris had hoped he was wrong. But Henning had no excuse for taking out the scientists. They were obviously no threat.

  Henning moved slowly across the street and Chris leaned back, careful to stay hidden. He calmed his breathing, loosening his shoulders and getting ready to move.

  In the glass of the car across from him he could see Henning’s reflection. He looked up the street and then down before squatting down next to the men and rifling through their pockets.

  Go. Chris burst from his spot.

  But Henning heard his approach. He swung around, but Chris managed to kick the weapon from his hand before he could bring it around for a shot. It clattered down on the sidewalk, out of reach. Henning went to grab Chris around the waist and tackled him to the ground, but Chris slammed his knee into Henning’s face. Then he shoved Henning’s chin up and over his shoulders, slamming him onto his back. Chris went to kick him in the stomach but Henning twirled around, sweeping out Chris’s leg.

  Chris hit the ground and rolled, lessening the impact, and got to his feet. Henning had gotten to his feet as well, sliding a knife from the sheath on his waist.

  “I spared you, you know,” he said. “I had you in my sights and I let you go.”

  “Why are you going after us? Why did you kill those men?”

  Henning shrugged. “I’ve been ordered to make a clean sweep. We’ve all been ordered to—all non-security personnel are to be removed. It’s nothing personal.”

  He lunged, swiping the knife toward Chris’s chest. Chris leapt to the side, using his forearms to stop Henning’s arm from swinging toward him. He grabbed Henning’s wrist with one hand, holding the arm taut, and slammed his other forearm into Henning’s elbow, breaking it.

  Henning screamed, dropping the knife, but Chris had no pity for the man. He pulled his broken arm behind his back and forced him to his knees.

  “It didn’t have to be this way,” Henning panted out. “You just picked the wrong company.”

  Chris shook his head. “What the hell’s going on? I mean, I was getting people out of the building. I was doing my job.”

  Henning studied him for a moment. “Wrong place, wrong time, man. But I can get you out—you and that thing with you.”

  “Thing? You mean Alvie?”

  “Yeah, they want him alive. He’s your bargaining chip.”

  Chris felt cold. Why would they want Alvie? “Who wants him?”

  “The powers that be. I don’t have names. I just know they pull the strings.”

  “What about the rest of them?”

  “The order is to kill on sight.”

  “Everybody?”

  Henning nodded. “Yeah.”

  Chris pushed Henning’s face into the pavement. “Why?”

  “What does it matter? It’s an order. Have you stopped taking those?” Henning laughed, his cheek scraping against the pavement. “It’s that scientist, isn’t it? She got to you. What, you think you’re going to be the hero? Get the girl? Save the day? You’re not making it out of here alive unless you start following orders.”

  “Well, if I kill you that should improve our chances.”

  “Won’t make a difference.”

  “Why not?”

  “They’ve initiated the Manhattan Protocol.”

  Chris felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs. The Manhattan Protocol, named after the Manhattan Project—the collaboration of top American scientists but also supported by Great Britain and Canada that had led to the creation of the first atomic bomb.

  The Manhattan Protocol was using an atomic bomb to e
liminate a contagion or threat. They were going to bomb the facility. They’d known it was going to happen, but Chris was hoping it would be hours from now.

  “When?”

  “An hour, and then this whole place will be toast.” Chris slammed Henning’s head into the concrete and knocked him out. Then he grabbed Henning’s weapons and his radio. He scanned the area, but no one else was around. He started to jog back to where he’d left everybody else. Tension coiled around him. He needed to get all of them away from the base.

  Waiting for reinforcements wasn’t going to work, and talking their way out wasn’t going to work. They were going to have to figure out another way off the base.

  And as fast as possible.

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  Maeve carried Snap and Pop while Crackle remained nestled on Alvie’s back. They had run down the alley and sprinted down another one and now she didn’t know where anybody else was. They seemed to be in some sort of loading area. There were crates piled around them. A metal Quonset hut stood to their right and another one to their left. Maeve didn’t like their position. She felt too exposed.

  Pop trembled in her arms. Maeve leaned her head down. “It’s all right. It’s going to be fine.”

  But her words were hollow. She needed to find the others. She had no idea how she was going to get any of them off the base on her own. Snap’s head swiveled to the right and Maeve saw a door open.

  Damn it.

  “Alvie,” she whispered.

  But he was already moving to hide behind one of the crates. Maeve ducked in next to him, trying to calm the two trembling aliens in her arms. Alvie’s head jolted up and he cocked his head to the side.

  “Alvie, stay here,” Maeve warned, hoping he wasn’t about to bolt. Alvie’s eyes pleaded with her. Maeve inched toward the edge of the crate and looked out.

  Four soldiers were leading a tall gray alien from the hut. It was the same gray being that Alvie and Maeve had seen, or at least another one who looked exactly like him. He was being led to a truck, shackles around his ankles, a collar attached to a long pole around his neck.

  Alvie let out a cry. Maeve placed a hand over his mouth, but the soldiers stopped.

  “I got it,” one of the soldiers said as he headed toward them.

  Maeve’s heart raced. They’d find them. Her mind scrambled, trying to figure out how she could get Alvie and the triplets to run while she created a distraction. She knew she wouldn’t be able to outrun the soldier while carrying two of them.

  She nudged Alvie and quickly crawled over to another set of crates. Alvie was right behind her, his small hand securely placed on Crackle’s back. Maeve looked around, but there was nothing but fifty feet of open ground in front of her. Her heart raced because she knew they were going to get caught. At this point, there was no way to avoid it.

  She placed Snap and Pop on the ground, and stared into Alvie’s eyes. Get them to safety. His eyes grew slightly larger and he shook his head. She nodded and then inched her way to the edge of the crate, pulling her handgun from the holster, even though she knew she only had one round left. She peeked out. Two of the soldiers approached their former hiding place and Maeve swallowed. One and she might have had a chance, but two? She’d never be able to take down two.

  They made their way around the sides. One counted down from three with his fingers and as one they turned, they aimed their guns at the spot where Maeve and the aliens had been hiding.

  One of the soldiers shook his head and looked over to where Maeve was hiding. She ducked back, her heart pounding. She looked over at Alvie, who had the triplets all curled around him.

  I can’t save them. The thought broke her heart.

  Maeve felt eyes on her and glanced up, then gasped. The gray alien in chains had a perfect view of Maeve through the crates. She stared into his eyes.

  Help us. Please.

  Her head whipped back at the sound of a footfall only a few feet away. One of the soldiers was almost on them.

  Then the gray started to screech, whipping back and forth. His arms raised, he yanked on his chains.

  “God damn it. Leave it. Get over here and help with this guy,” the soldier in charge barked.

  The soldier near them hesitated for a moment, but then she heard his footsteps retreating. Maeve sucked in a breath, air rushing into her lungs. She peeked out and saw the two soldiers retreating. The large gray went quiet as the two soldiers approached.

  “What the hell set it off?”

  “Who the hell knows? Let’s get him out of here.”

  They yanked the gray by the lead on his neck and he stumbled forward. Then the soldiers forced him up a ramp and into a truck. As the soldiers busied themselves strapping him into the truck bed, the alien’s gaze once again strayed to where Maeve and Alvie were hiding. Maeve looked into the being’s eyes again.

  Thank you.

  It nodded back at her. And then the back of the truck was closed, cutting him off from her view.

  Maeve watched helplessly as the truck drove off. It had saved them. She had no doubt of that. Why? And where were those soldiers taking him?

  A screech sounded somewhere not too far away, pulling Maeve back to their situation. Once they got out of here alive, she would find out where they were taking him. The screech sounded again, causing Alvie to tremble, his panic-stricken gaze latching onto Maeve’s. And reality once again hit her.

  If we get out of here alive.

  Chapter Ninety

  Hank had infrared vision, and Greg knew he would see him standing there. But he hadn’t charged.

  Cold, cold. I need something cold to hide behind.

  But it was a hangar in Nevada in July. There was nothing cold anywhere nearby.

  Right, so I just make sure there’s something between me and Hank at all times. He slid down so he was behind the crate. The Jeep was ten feet away and then it was only a five-foot run to the door, which was closed.

  His shoulders dropped as the impossibility of the situation hit him. And then he pictured Leslie, her determination no matter what they faced. Where was she? She’d said she’d be right behind him. The idea of Leslie being hurt spurred him into a crouch.

  I got this.

  He peered over the crate and saw that Hank was gone from the wing. He frowned. Where’d—

  Hank landed on the crate at the end of the row. Greg felt his eyes grow wide as Hank stared straight at him.

  Oh god.

  All thoughts of hiding disappeared as Greg scrambled to his feet and sprinted for the door. He heard Hank drop to the ground behind him. Greg had never run so fast in his life. He crashed into the door and tumbled out into the yard. He ran forward, praying, almost crying.

  Don’t let it end like this.

  From around the corner of the Quonset hut behind the hangar, Leslie sprinted into view. “Hey, Hank, you bastard, over here,” Leslie yelled before opening fire.

  Greg tripped as he turned to see Leslie, standing out in the open. Hank switched direction with a roar as her bullets bounced off his skin.

  “No!” Greg yelled.

  He stumbled, catching himself with one hand as he started to fall and ran for Leslie. Hank sprinted along the ground, running parallel with him.

  Leslie backed up, never letting up her assault. Hank roared and leapt, but so did Greg. He tackled Leslie just as Hank reached them, rolling them away and feeling one of Hank’s talons rip through the skin on his thigh.

  Greg screamed in agony. Leslie pulled her sidearm and emptied a single bullet into Hank’s eye. Hank reared back.

  Greg grabbed the grenade off Leslie’s belt, pulling the pin. As Hank roared, Greg turned and aimed it at Hank’s mouth. As soon as the grenade left Greg’s hand Leslie grabbed him, rolling him down the embankment.

  Pain crashed through Greg again and again as they rolled. Above them, an explosion sounded. Greg turned his head, crushing his eyes closed as organic material blew over the side of the embankment toward them along wit
h a spray of blood.

  Leslie rolled off him as the smoke cleared, glaring at him. “You idiot! What were you thinking?”

  It took Greg a moment to find his voice. “Um, which part?”

  Leslie pulled off her shirt, leaving her in a black tank top. “The part where you jumped in front of me.”

  He winced as she tore off a piece of her shirt and started to wrap it around his leg. “Um, I was thinking—” He stopped. “Actually, check that. I wasn’t thinking. I saw Hank run for you, so I did too.”

  “You could have been killed.”

  “Yup,” he said with a wince. “Not sure I won’t still because that hurts like hell.”

  Leslie stared down at him, her voice softer. “You really are an idiot.”

  He nodded and closed his eyes, praying he didn’t pass out from the pain. “No argument.”

  Chapter Ninety-One

  A chill had crept under Chris’s skin when Henning mentioned the Manhattan Protocol, and it refused to leave as Chris made his way back to the others. The base itself wasn’t helping with the feeling. It was like an abandoned town. Cars and trucks were still parked along the roads, but there were no people. Just rows of empty buildings. It felt eerie.

  Chris had left Henning unconscious in one of the buildings. He’d stripped him of all his weapons and communications, but he couldn’t bring himself to kill him. Not in cold blood. Besides, if Henning was right and the Manhattan Protocol was initiated, his likelihood of surviving this was just as low as for the rest of them.

  But Chris shoved thoughts of Henning’s fate from his mind. He was much more concerned with the fate of a different group of people. Chris backtracked to where he’d left the rest of the group. He stopped at the building across from the old headquarters. A few carcasses of aliens were strewn across the ground. But so were the bodies of some humans.

  Chris studied each body, but none were part of his group. He let out a sigh of relief, but it was tinged with worry and anger that American troops had been used so callously. But he didn’t have time to focus on that. He strained but couldn’t hear any movement near him. Where did they go?