The Light: The Invasion Trilogy Book 3

by W. J. Lundy

  Looking toward the blacktop road, Clem stared mesmerized at the burning hulks of the vans and pickup trucks once filled with children. He staggered closer, stopping at the body of a woman he didn’t recognize. He knelt beside her and used his palm to close her eyes.

  “Over here,” Masterson said from farther ahead and closer to the building.

  In a depression lay the body of Grandmother; the red-haired woman’s chest was covered in blood and she was wheezing. Masterson pulled her from the ditch and rested her head on his lap. He put a hand to her bloody chest then looked up at Clem, shaking his head. She strained to move and pointed at her pack. “Get it for me,” she gasped.

  Clem moved to the spot and retrieved a small bag and placed it by her side. She fumbled through a front pouch and fished out the small notebook. She pushed it in Clem’s direction as she coughed and blood curled over her bottom lip. “Get my girls back,” she whispered.

  She reached a hand back and Masterson took it. He felt her grasp loosen as the old woman wheezed and drew her last breaths. Slowly and gently, he rolled her head from his lap. “What are we going to do?” he said, examining the destruction surrounded in the flames of the burning vehicles and warehouse.

  Clem lowered his head and sucked in a deep breath before dropping to his knees. Falling back on his rear, he flipped through pages of the notebook, stopping at a hand-drawn map of a small, walled village with an orb positioned in the center. “I’m going to get them back, or kill as many of those things as I can trying,” he said.

  Chapter 26

  She stood by the picture window, watching as new arrivals were marched down the center of the street. Unlike the last ones, some men were present in this group. Ragged and in torn clothing, they were under close guard as they carried suitcases and held the hands of children. Rows of the armed black-eyed Deltas and several of the red-sleeved soldiers were always close by, unlike other groups of new arrivals.

  The people were being herded toward wide, blue, steel transports. A group of guides stood near the transports, examining each person before directing them to the back of a cargo hold. Watching, Laura was able to detect a pattern; the young and healthy always moved to the left, while the old and sick to the right. She turned and looked to Francis who was sitting at the dining room table, eating a small meal of cheese and sliced meats—the man was spending more time at the house now.

  They’d barely spoken since she’d returned from the kitchen duty. Out of fear that her words may be true, she didn't want to bring up her conversation with the old woman—that Francis was now her mate. She shook her head, refusing to accept the idea. Instead, she asked, “What are they doing with them?”

  Francis kept his eyes on the plate to his front. “The local population is being relocated; well… those sensible enough to join us.”

  She glanced back at the transports, then to Francis. “Why separate them?”

  Francis lifted a fork-full of meat to his mouth and chewed slowly. He turned and looked Laura in the eyes then waved a hand at her dismissively. “Because of your people’s refusal to surrender, resources are now scarce; we don’t have enough for everyone. They have destroyed too much of our infrastructure and transports, as well as our ability to gather more. Because of their ignorance, this place is no longer safe for us.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means choices have to be made, not all will be allowed to move with us.”

  With her breath held to control her emotions, she turned and approached the table. “What do you mean move?” Laura asked.

  “The council has decided to give up on this area; we will be leaving soon.”

  She took a pitcher of water from the table and refilled his drinking glass. Francis looked up and acknowledged her actions with a smile. “Leaving?” she asked.

  He nodded, lifting the glass and taking a long drink. “We will join the large communities in the city. This communal will be abandoned. They never should have attempted to settle here so far from support in the first place. Once we leave, the surrounding areas will be quelled by the witnesses. Maybe we can return one day when it’s safe.”

  “Quelled?” Laura said, unable to hide the horror in her voice.

  “Yes, it will take time, but they will bring this place to peace,” Francis said calmly.

  “By killing everything?”

  Francis swore under his breath before looking up at her. “It is unfortunate, but the local population refuses to submit. What other choice do they have? The people committing these crimes have to be dealt with.”

  Laura returned to the window and pulled back the curtain, pointing to the right trailer. She turned back and began shaking her head at the man. “And what of them? You didn’t explain why they are separating them.”

  Francis snorted and laid his fork beside his plate. “Those not chosen to continue on our path will be given the gift of the message. They will become witness to the truth and continue our fight here.”

  She shook her head and backed away from the window, watching as an old man pushed a boy in a wheelchair up the ramp of a transport to the right. “You’ve lied to them all; they think you will protect them.”

  “And we are protecting them. Those people are old and sick; when they awaken, they will be strong and a vibrant part of the communal.”

  “They need to be warned.” She turned from the window and rushed to the door. Francis got there first and blocked her with his shoulder. Knocking her away, she fell hard to the floor. He stepped close to her, and reached down, offering her a hand. She slapped it away.

  “We leave tonight,” he said, returning to the table. “Ready the child.”

  Laura tried to steady herself to push back her anger. “I won’t leave; not without my husband,” she scowled.

  Francis smiled at her, already knowing that she’d learned the truth of their relationship. “Your old life is behind you. I am your husband now. Gather your things and ready the child.”

  She scrambled to her feet and backed away from him, almost falling against the dinner table. “We won’t leave with you. We won’t go anywhere with you.”

  He stood and squared his chest to her. He pushed forward, the softness gone in his voice. His face was hard and intimidating. “You don’t have a choice. The war is over; we’ve won. Your governments—your people—have surrendered to us!”

  She stepped back, bumping the table and knocking over the drinking glass and pitcher. Laura fumbled, steadying herself, and her hand brushed the side of the heavy clay pitcher. She quickly reached out and took it. Then, swinging hard, she smashed it against Francis’s head. The man stumbled back, surprised, putting a hand to his bloodied face. He lunged at her. She dodged and ran for the hallway, sprinting to Katy’s room. She made it just ahead of him, slamming the door, and leaving him to pound against it.

  She felt the pressure cease against the door then heard the clunk of a bolt lock. She stood and backed away. Katy was sitting on the floor looking up at her with wide eyes. She moved back and fell to the carpet beside her daughter. She raised the girl onto her lap, and Katy gripped her hands. “Are you scared, Momma?”

  Laura nodded, trying to hold back the tears. “We have to leave now; we have to escape.”

  She grabbed Katy and stood her up. Finding her coat and long pants, she dressed her in heavy clothing, then put boots on her feet. She felt the tears falling on her cheeks as she reached out and took her daughter again, holding the girl tight to her chest. “What have I done…?” she said.

  “It’s okay, Daddy will come back.”

  Laura nodded, forcing a smile. “We’re gonna find him; we’ll leave tonight.” She snatched a rat tail comb from the dresser and pulled the girl’s hair back, tying it up, then put a heavy hat over her head. All of her own clothing was in the other room; she would have to leave with what she had on. She wasn’t dressed for the cold, but she would take her chances.

  Prepared to move to the only bedroom window, she heard a kn
ock at the door. The bolt turned and released. Laura stood and pushed Katy behind her. Taking the rat tail comb in her hand, she concealed it behind her back.

  “Mrs. Anderson,” a familiar voice called as a woman in dark robes entered the room.

  “Taurine!” Laura said, surprised to see the old woman. “What are you doing here?”

  “Your mate sent for me. He is afraid for you; afraid for your daughter.” Taurine strained and saw Katy dressed for travel. Her gaze traveled up and met Laura’s.

  “Were you planning on going somewhere? Do you know what will happen to you if he reports this?”

  Laura shook her head and leered down. “Is that why you’re here? Are you going to take me away?”

  Taurine smiled and stepped closer. “No, silly woman; I am here to discipline you, to teach you to be more respectful of your husband.”

  Laura watched as the old woman slipped the small metal box from her pocket. She felt the knowledge plate on the top of her head begin to tingle.

  “Don’t worry. As I promised your husband, this lesson will be discreet. I’ve come alone; this will be just between us. If the others knew, they would reject you.”

  Laura backed away as the woman stepped closer. Taurine rubbed a finger along the top of the box and the tingling on Laura’s head buzzed with intensity, pain beginning to form in the back of her skull. Taurine stepped closer, now within arm’s reach.

  “We have much to discuss, Mrs. Anderson. I knew from the moment I met you, that you would be difficult.”

  She raised the box so it was at Laura’s eye level. “I’m sorry, but you have to learn the price for disobedience,” Taurine said, slowly sliding her thumb down the box.

  Laura felt weakness in her legs. The woman was now so close Laura could see the pores on her skin. Suddenly Laura no longer felt afraid, the fear replaced by anger. She no longer hesitated; she feigned turning away to the left, while lashing out with the rat tail comb gripped tightly in her right hand. The tip of the spear caught Taurine just below the jugular. The old woman screamed and dove at Laura, her hand clasping the metal box tight. Laura felt shooting pain in her head and her vision filled with bolts of blinding light.

  She fought through the agony to maintain the grip on the comb as she forced it deeper into Taurine’s neck, twisting it as it burrowed its way to her spinal cord. When the plastic tip broke, Laura punched at the wound and the side of the woman’s head. Taurine screamed something as her hot blood poured down Laura’s arm. The old woman gagged, spitting blood; her grip relaxed and Laura felt the relief and release of the knowledge plate.

  Her vision returned to her in the scene of a nightmare, the old woman’s blood covering her body. She wanted to scream, but she saw Katy standing against the wall, her face white with shock. Laura pushed the old woman off of her and rolled back to her knees, pushing herself up to her feet. She looked at the door and wondered if Francis was in the house. Maybe she could sneak past him.

  She gripped Katy’s hand and led her from the room, locking the door behind her. She stalked down the hallway and found the home empty, the front door unlocked. Quickly, she moved to the back of the house where the kitchen door led into the backyard. This door was bolted, but could be opened without a key; she quickly unlocked it and looked out into a fenced-in yard. She knelt down next to Katy and whispered, “We have to go now; you have to be very quiet, okay?”

  Katy nodded. “We’re going to find Daddy.”

  “That’s right, Katy. We’re going to find Daddy.”

  Chapter 27

  They hid in a small cluster of homes just off the main road and prepared the ambush behind a series of parallel parked cars. The homes around them were destroyed, doors removed and windows shattered, leaving no doubt as to why the owners had abandoned this area or been forcibly removed. Two red-sleeved bodies lay dead in the center of the street while the gold glove was placed over one of the car’s radio antennas in a mock salute.

  The Assassins had placed four claymore mines in a circle, all of them pointed in. The intent was to lead the enemy into the kill zone then blow the directional mines. There was no discussion over ethics or further attacks while the VP was calling for a surrender. They were all in agreement that they would continue the fight as long as they had the means. And today that meant taking the fight directly to them. Jacob felt the tickle in his ear, predicting the oncoming vehicles. He lowered himself behind a windowsill of a house directly across from the ambush kill box—he would have a front-seat view.

  Jesse was next to him, once again carrying a heavy machine gun; he sat with his back to the wall and the weapon rested on his lap. Karina was bound and restrained in the kitchen of the home. Several walls were missing, exposing blackened and charred framing and allowing the men to see from one end of the house to the other.

  Jacob turned back and caught a glimpse of one of their more injured soldiers. Refusing to stay behind, the man was now on guard duty, standing watch over the alien prisoner. Even though she had given allegiance to them and agreed to full cooperation, calling it their way, Karina hadn’t come close to earning their trust. Jacob turned back to the front and strained to find the rest of the group. He knew they were scattered among the remaining homes, waiting for the approaching enemy and the blast of the mines that would trigger the ambush.

  Moving at them from the east, the road traveled through the cluster of homes and sloped down a hill, the top covered in the fog of early morning. The heavy mist blanketed the ground, and the sun rising behind the hilltop made it difficult to see through. Jacob watched intently as the first of the red-sleeved soldiers appeared, emerging from the cloud like a hazy ghost. They were walking in a triangle formation. Rifles at the low ready, they were scouting the way for a column of three vehicles that gradually materialized behind them, the hovercrafts’ engines blowing and dispersing the light fog surrounding them.

  The approaching soldiers paused and seemed to signal, pointing at the waiting bait pile. A Red aimed his rifle toward the suspended golden glove and the Reds approached it, the vehicles moving in closer to provide security. The three-soldier patrol stopped at the first of the destroyed cars and allowed one of the hovercrafts to pass by. The vehicle sped past the glove and stopped just shy of leaving the kill zone. Jacob knew from its angle that it had parked almost directly in front of one of the claymore mines. The next two vehicles raced ahead, moving into position and creating a triangular formation nearly identical to the one the Reds had been walking.

  The hovercrafts were being cautious, parking tactically and using dismounts for support in an attempt to shield themselves from danger. Ironically, their parking spots put them in the sights of a cauldron of mines. They have a lot to learn about the human style of warfare, Jacob thought.

  He was ready to rise up over the window sill and take aim when Jesse grabbed his elbow. “Wait,” the big man whispered.

  With a clanging of gears, the hovercrafts anchored and ramps began to drop. Groups of soldiers and Golds exited through the rear of the transports. Knowing what was about to happen, Jacob winced, almost allowing pity to enter his mind. They had never intended to do this much damage. Now, with nearly twenty-five of the creatures—several unarmed—loitering in the kill box, he second-guessed the plan. Maybe this is too much, he thought. He then remembered the strike against Meaford and the devastation of the Deltas on his hometown of Chicago. No… this was just enough.

  Reds spread out and posted up security, having no idea they were looking down the face of a mine and about to receive a dose of 700 steel ball bearings propelled by high explosives. Other groups of soldiers formed working parties, recovering the dead bodies and returning them to one of the vehicles. The Reds were lax and at ease, still feeling they were the APEX predator in the area. A pack of Golds approached the suspended glove and pointed at it suspiciously.

  “What is he waiting for?” Jacob whispered.

  A Gold moved closer and extended a hand to the antenna; it grabbed the gol
den glove and began to remove it from the wire. Knowing it was about to happen, Jacob squeezed his rifle’s stock. The view to his front vanished in a flash of lightning, fire, and black smoke. The ground lifted and crashed under his feet; the house rattled and cracked from the shock waves of the explosives and stray fragments of the mines. Jacob leaned forward out of the window with Jesse by his side, searching for targets. Every alien was down, and two of the three vehicles were engulfed in metallic flame.

  He stood and bounded over the windowsill. Approaching the kill box, he saw grotesquely maimed bodies spread out on the ground. A Red struggling to rise caught his attention; Jacob raised his rifle and put quick shots into its body. Just then, a blue flash raced by him and he spotted a small squad of dazed and scattered Reds—somehow spared the carnage of the mines—slowly recovering and firing blind. He crouched for cover between the cars as Jesse leveled his machine gun and let loose several long bursts, shredding their bodies.

  More gun shots sounded from the opposite side of the ambush; Jacob knew it would be Rogers and his own team moving in. Jacob crouched and shuffle stepped forward, his rifle up while he surveyed the damage. Slowly he stepped into the spoiled ground of the ambush site. The alien bodies at his feet were mangled and twisted, still smoldering from the mine. The car where the golden glove had been was now folded and crumpled, all of its windows gone, and a tattering of Gold bodies lay strewn beside it. Jacob saw the remnants of the glove near the bloody pulp of an alien body. He reached down and held it up, showing it to Jesse.

  “Hold on to it, maybe it’ll bring us good luck,” Jesse said.

  Jacob stuffed the glove into a breast pocket and stood his ground, watching while Rogers came into view from the far side of the remaining vehicle. The leader had his hand up, pointing out positions and directing other soldiers into security zones. He looked at Jacob then put two fingers to his eyes and pointed at the remaining vehicle, the only one not burning. They merged on it from opposite angles, walking in arcs so that their rifles were aimed into the rear compartment. The back crew space was empty. With a steel box and bench seats along the bulkheads, it didn’t appear to be any different from human transportation.