Darkest Days

by N. W. Harris

  “I don’t see how we have any other choice,” Shane agreed. “If we get a few hours of sunlight again, we have to let them rest. There will be no time to teach them.”

  “We should probably start now while they’re fresh,” Tracy said. “They’ll be useless in a few hours.”

  “Agreed,” Shane replied. “It’ll help distract them from what they just saw.”

  He looked forward to the diversion as well, expecting even the hardest among them needed something to take their minds off the girl who’d been turned to ash by Greenie.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tracy ran through the throng of kids crossing the field ahead of them.

  “Listen up,” she shouted. “Greenie is forcing us south, likely into a fight.” Walking backward, she glanced over her shoulder to see where she was going, and then back at the kids. “You’ve all been in some fights before, or you wouldn’t have lived this long. We want to take what you know and build on it as best we can. The trick is unless the sun comes out, we can’t stop moving. Y’all know why.”

  She turned around, climbed over the fence at the edge of the field, crossed the road, and then entered the next one. The moon seemed to grow brighter, becoming a giant floodlight shining down on them.

  “Looks like Greenie approves,” Anfisa said, gazing skyward.

  Shane gritted his teeth, hating how effectively they were being manipulated.

  His army of teenagers climbed over the fence after Tracy, and the smaller kids squeezed through between the lower boards. The bright moonlight lacked the sun’s warmth. Now he could see everyone’s frozen breath, making it seem colder than before. The pallid glow didn’t reflect the color in anything, illuminating the kids and the countryside in grayscale. It did allow him to see some of their faces, even at a distance. He could see which ones had been crying, the moon showing the tracks of their tears, glistening stripes on dirty faces.

  “All the older kids, move to the front,” Tracy continued, her drill-sergeant tone taking over. Her shouted voice carried through the frigid air such that Shane could hear her clearly though he stood at the back of the group. “Youngest to the rear.”

  The kids did what she ordered, glancing up at the moon to see the result of their action. Shane caught himself doing the same, feeling like a lab rat in a cruel science experiment. At least he saw some of the kids stop weeping. They needed some thread of hope to cling to—some belief that if they did everything right, they might survive. Without that, he doubted they’d endure a minute in any fight.

  Shane and the rest of the kids engaged the mobile training led by Tracy. The distraction refreshed him, and he expected it did the same for the rest of them. Tracy taught the kids to aim while moving and to turn their bodies to provide a minimal target to the enemy. Shane weaved through them and selected some of the older ones to move to the rear of the pack. He wanted to make sure the little kids were protected in case they were surrounded.

  Next, Tracy, Anfisa, Steve, and the rest of Shane’s friends walked up and down the line, teaching the kids some basic attacks that could be used if they ran out of ammo, or if they were overrun by the enemy. They taught them how to use their weapons as clubs and conveyed the simplest of the martial arts techniques they’d learned during the months of training Jones had put them through at the hidden base. The techniques focused on hitting the most vulnerable areas of the enemy—throat punches, eye gouges, and groin kicks.

  They also taught the smaller kids who walked near the rear of the group how to join to take down anyone who might make it past the older kids. These youngsters were eager to be involved. Many who were too young to have guns carried knives, sticks, or other weapons they’d acquired from the hidden base’s kitchen and from the forest. It churned his stomach to think these elementary-age kids would probably end up killing. However, he also realized there’d come a time when it would be a kill-or-get-killed situation and he wanted to make sure they had a chance at defending themselves.

  He had Steve pass through the front line of the small army and pretend to attack the little kids. They closed in on him, wrapping themselves around his legs and pushing at his knees from behind. The linebacker resisted, but the little soldiers brought him to the ground. Then they piled on him, stabbing with their knives at his neck and swinging their sticks at his head to simulate bludgeoning him to death.

  It was gruesome play, but it seemed to boost their morale. Some of the kids even laughed as they engaged in the war games. Jones had said the humans were created to be the ultimate warriors. Watching them attack Steve gave frightening credence to that lesson. Shane wondered if Greenie approved of the violent tendencies of these kids. Perhaps they were supposed to show they could rise above their nature—to show they could become more than their creators intended?

  They trained until kids started tripping, acting too weary to do much more than walk. Then Shane ordered the exercises to stop and had them focus on continuing south.

  “Moonlight’s fading,” Steve said. “Reckon Greenie ain’t happy we stopped practicing.”

  “It’s likely,” Shane replied. “We can only push these kids so hard. They won’t learn a thing as tired as they are now.”

  “I just pray it doesn’t kill anyone else,” Maurice said. “Hard enough to keep their chins up without watching their friends die.”

  “Agreed,” Shane grimly replied.

  Kelly stumbled along a few yards away. She wore the lost expression that told him her amnesia hadn’t relented. On the other side of Maurice and bound by rope from just below her shoulders down to her hips, Jules still glared ahead at Jones and his clones with wicked eyes that promised she’d try to tear them apart if she had the chance.

  Shane hoped Greenie would bless them with just a few more hours of sunlight, of time when Jules wasn’t in a murderous rage and Kelly got her memories back. Done with the training, Tracy fell back to the rear with them and took up a space next to Jules. Even in the thickening darkness, he could see her gazing at the bound girl, her eyes wishing for the same thing as him.

  “Look,” Steve said, excitement pitching his voice.

  Shane turned his head left, following the linebacker’s finger. Along the edge of a line of mature oak trees that separated the farm they walked through from the next farm, the ground began to glow. A thin curtain of sunlight seemed to hang east of them. For a moment, Shane feared Greenie was just going to tease them. Then the light expanded, sweeping across the field.

  The teenagers and children in his army welcomed the warm yellow light with sighs of relief and exclamations of joy. Jules’ expression went soft, the hatred fading from it when the light hit her. Maurice fell to his knees and prayed.

  Shane turned to Kelly, his heart filled with joy to see her beaming back at him, love and happiness in her eyes. She rushed into his arms.

  “I remember again,” she whispered. “I remember everything.”

  “Do you remember the last time Greenie gave us some light?” he asked, trying not to sound too analytical. He was overjoyed by the return of her memory, but he was also trying to gain further understanding of this powerful alien that pushed them around like pawns on a chessboard.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I remember that.” Her voice cracked. “That poor girl who was burnt.” It sounded like Kelly just watched the girl get incinerated by Greenie. Her mind was erased before she had the time to cope with the horrible scene.

  “Don’t think about that,” Shane said, squeezing her against him. “We have to stay focused on the present and what’s to come.”

  She nodded, holding him tighter.

  “Kelly?” Nat stood next to them, the sunlight reflecting in her teary eyes.

  “Yes,” Kelly said, embracing her little sister with joyful tears. “I remember you, too.”

  They hugged, and Shane looked on for a moment, feeling sad because he knew the light would not last.

  “Holly shit,” Steve said, then covered his mouth and glanced at the children.
“I mean… crap. Shane, do you know where we are?”

  The line of old oaks along the fence and the back of the farmhouse a couple of hundred yards ahead of him gave Shane a familiar feeling, like he knew this place. The answer didn’t dawn on him until he saw the refurbished, antique Case steam tractor parked next to the barn.

  “Old Man Patterson’s?” Shane said with disbelief.

  “Where else?” Steve returned, excited.

  Shane had never been on the back part of Patterson’s property, but the shiny black-and-red tractor, the white house, and the matching barn were unmistakable.

  “Remember when Old Man Patterson set his hayfield on fire last summer with that antique?” Steve chuckled.

  “Yeah,” Shane replied, smiling. “Lit it off with sparks from the smokestack. Flames liked to jump the street onto Granny’s land.” A realization hit him, a bolt of excitement that nearly made him jump. “Granny’s!”

  He looked at Kelly, and she smiled, but her lip twitched and her eyes grew sadder. Her house was next to Granny’s; it was where she’d watched her parents die. Their decaying bodies were probably still there.

  “No one died at Granny’s,” he said with a quiet voice. “Except for Granny, and that happened before all this.”

  “We should go there,” she said, slipping her hand into his.

  “We should,” he replied. “They’ll be lots of food in the pantry.”

  Granny grew a big garden every year and ended up having to can most of her crop. She also loved to pickle stuff, and Shane longed for a jar of her pickled okra.

  “It ain’t gonna bother you to head that way?” Steve warily asked.

  “It might’ve before,” Shane said, excited to visit the old home where he’d spent so much of his childhood. “But now I just miss it. It’ll be a good place to camp while Greenie keeps the lights on.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Athos’ heart raced as he climbed into the chair and was lowered down the side of the pyramid. On wheels and pulleys, the crude elevator had been fabricated by the Pegasus’ engineers to be used as an elevator. It rode on the smooth wall on the side of the long flight of steps that led from the ground to the ship’s city.

  He passed out of the light that bathed the Pegasus’ apex and into the darkness, engulfing the rest of the world. The separation between light and dark was defined with a sharpness that didn’t allow any of the glow from above to shine down the sides of the ship. Athos and the two officers who accompanied him removed the dark eyewear they’d donned, which caused their eyes to adjust to the darkness before they left the ship’s city.

  On the ground below, humans were near rioting. Shamus had brought his massive army of followers to the ship, but he didn’t seem prepared to obey the commands of the Anunnaki. The freed human slaves who were still loyal had been pushed onto the Pegasus’ steps, though no one had fired their weapon or escalated the conflict beyond shouting and pushing. Athos had to smooth things over quickly. He had to give Shamus and his people a reason to obey the Anunnaki.

  The elevator chair went much faster than he could if he walked, and it would keep him from getting exhausted by the journey down and up the pyramid-shaped vessel. Halfway to the ground, he surveyed the city the humans called Atlanta. He could see and smell the fires lit by the children to keep warm. Far to the north, a column of white light came from the black sky and touched the planet. It looked similar to the sunlight that shined onto the Pegasus.

  “What do you suppose that is?” the commander sitting on the wide elevator chair next to him asked. He was a seasoned Shock Troop soldier, but still couldn’t manage to keep his nervousness from showing in his voice.

  “It’s the second time it’s been seen. It’s someone else either the gods or our enemy has chosen to shine light upon,” Athos replied, not taking his eyes from the illuminated column.

  He hoped the light was reserved for the Anunnaki. Could that distant beam be shining upon Pelros? It felt naive to believe that his nephew might still be alive. However, until he had confirmation that the young soldier was dead, he refused to give up hope.

  Military strategy dictated he treat the distant beam of light as a sign of the approaching enemy. He turned his attention to controlling the riotous humans on the ground below. They were his first line of defense against whatever the green entity threw at him.

  The elevator chair, controlled by a large, manually operated winch mounted at the top of the steps, slowed as it approached the loyal human soldiers in white uniforms. They stood shoulder to shoulder on the steps near the bottom of the pyramid, ready to fend off an attack by their grimy counterparts who pressed against the base of the Pegasus.

  Torches carried by Shamus’ people cast flickering light upon their angry faces. At the line between them and the loyal humans stood a small group who appeared more disciplined. They weren’t shouting insults or thrusting their weapons into the air like the rest, instead focusing their attention forward, like they were there to protect the human who stood in front of them.

  The torchlight reflected off this guarded human, who appeared to be talking to the loyal ones standing on the steps above him. Light danced upon the gold chains burdening his neck.

  “Allow him to pass.” Athos gave the order to the Shock Troop soldier in charge, who greeted him when the elevator came to a stop.

  The general climbed off the chair and stood on the steps above his human soldiers. He glanced up at the lieutenant who held a torch, standing ten steps above him, ready to wave it to signal to the engineers who awaited his command atop the ship. Swinging the torch once would cause the lightweight mirrors borrowed from the ship’s plasma concentrators to be turned such that they would divert the sunlight coming down on the apex of the Pegasus to the area around the base of the ship. Following two swings of the torch, the engineers would use the mirrors in conjunction, concentrating the light into a single beam that he hoped would have enough energy to incinerate anything it touched.

  “My people are gathering,” Shamus said, pointing at the angry crowd. “But they, and frankly myself, are a bit jealous of that light y’all are keeping to yourselves up there.”

  “Your needs have been anticipated,” Athos replied. “Observe.”

  He gave the order for the torchbearer to swing once. High above, the engineers pushed the mirrors, rotating them into position. The giant silvery disks caught the light and diverted it down the sides of the pyramid.

  Shamus and the kids below shielded their eyes and fell silent. They hadn’t seen sunlight in days and appeared stunned for a moment. Then they began cheering, some of them dancing around and hugging each other. Not only did the mirrors reflect the light, but they also sent the warmth of the sun cascading around the base of the ship. Shamus’ people, who had been bundled up to stave off the cold, began shedding their jackets and exposing their dirty skin to the warmth and the light.

  “I hope this appeases your people,” Athos said.

  “I think it will, for the moment,” Shamus replied, looking out across the cheering crowd and then back up at Athos. “Do you have food?”

  “I’m afraid we are lacking in that department,” Athos replied. “We can give you light and warmth, but you’ll have to feed yourselves.”

  “That might end up being a problem,” Shamus replied. “Who is this enemy you’re expecting us to fight? My people ain’t good at sitting idle.”

  “I don’t think it will be long,” Athos replied. “See that column of light shining down to the north?”

  Shamus turned and looked in the direction he indicated.

  “Yeah, I see it,” he replied. “What’s that?”

  “It appeared farther north just after I visited with you at your compound,” Athos explained. “Then it vanished and reappeared a couple of hours ago, but much closer this time. I believe that light shines upon our enemy.”

  Whether it did or didn’t was inconsequential. Athos wanted them to believe the enemy approached and attack was eminen
t. He hoped it would give the humans a distraction that would prevent rioting.

  “You want us to chill here until they arrive?”

  “I want you to send some of them out to create a perimeter around the city. I will provide Anunnaki soldiers to help organize them. As soon as they contact the enemy, they can retreat to the ship. The rest of your people will be well rested.” Athos crossed his arms on his chest, studying Shamus’ expression. “You can crush them when they attack.”

  “Bait them out there and lure them into an ambush here?” Shamus’ eyes gleamed, and Athos could see those Anunnaki genes that encoded a lust for battle were strongly expressed in this human. “I’d rather hit them hard as soon as they enter my city. Show them this ain’t no place for them.”

  “I like the idea of that as well,” Athos replied, smiling at the aggressiveness in the boy’s tone. “However, they may find a way around you if you’re out there. If you return to this camp, they’ll be forced into a confrontation.”

  “What are y’all gonna do to help?” Shamus narrowed his eyes. “We ain’t fighting alone.”

  “No, you are not,” Athos replied. “My soldiers,” he gestured at the loyal human slaves dressed in white, “will support you during the operation. If the enemy breaks through your lines, you will allow them a corridor to this ship.”

  “Then what?” Shamus’ eyes lit up again; he knew Athos was about to get to the good part.

  “And then,” Athos paused for dramatic effect, “we will rain hell upon them.”

  The general signaled to the torchbearer on the steps behind him, and he swung his torch back and forth three times.

  Far above them, along the perimeter of the wall surrounding the Pegasus’ city, the mirrors rotated and tore the light away from the base of the ship. Boos and shouted complaints came from the grimy kids, and they pushed toward the loyal humans again.

  “Sup?” Shamus asked, his tone expressing the anger from the mob below them.