The Umir’s gunfire rang out across the water’s surface. We were under attack.
____________
Four Days Earlier
Fire crackled from the hearth. Bill McReary was grateful for this haven. Things had gone to hell out there, and quickly. More stories about deranged spouses, coworkers, and friends had begun to spread, and a day after he’d arrived, half of the country was enduring stay-at-home orders.
Bill stared at the flames and wondered about Roger’s threat to kidnap the Vice President. These were unprecedented times. He’d grown up in another era. Bill was only sixty years old but felt like a dinosaur. He recalled being a little kid during the Vietnam War. He had a good friend who served a tour during Desert Storm, and the guy had been happy to never see real combat.
This was something entirely different. When you were fighting a war, there were countless skirmishes. Constant strategy, hitting checkpoints, and trying to gain the upper hand. It was long, it was messy, and it was terrible. But this… the Objects. This was new. A different kind of war. And Bill doubted anyone on Earth knew how to fight what was coming.
He’d heard a lot about the Believers, and if what they thought was true, the aliens had already struck Earth. They were inside the cultists. That scared Bill more than anything else.
The fire fizzled and popped, causing Bill to jump in his seat. Pine. He should have splurged for the birch but hadn’t expected to use it indoors. It was ten degrees outside, and snow continued to fall, despite the latest forecaster predicting it would stop. It had been two days since his internet had last worked.
Bill glanced at his glass, finding it full. Had he even taken a drink yet? He sniffed the whiskey and set the glass down. He didn’t need it. It would only cloud his mind. He did grab a cigarette and light it while he walked to the window.
He’d used his radio studio in the bunker to send out Roger and the Freedom Earthers’ information. He kept the message on repeat, unsure who was receiving it. He had a backup power generator but doubted many around the state did. Either way, he was hoping the message would be heard and passed on to others. Bill was helping ensure their country’s safety. If that came at the cost of a few Believers, so be it. Even the odd innocent casualty might be necessary, as much as that pained him.
Bill ran his fingers over his beard and paced the cabin. The old wooden floorboards groaned under his weight. He stopped and saw his reflection in the mirror. When had he let himself go? He looked like an overweight old man. His beard was unkempt, and his graying hair was thinning more every year. Bill patted his pronounced belly and shook his head.
Now wasn’t the time. He walked to the kitchen and opened the cupboards. Most of the food was in his bunker, but he kept some provisions up here. He wasn’t a huge fan of locking himself underground but was glad he’d bought this place off his uncle twenty years earlier. At the time, his ex-wife had thought he was nuts.
Bill set to work making a bowl of mac and cheese. He did it slowly, enjoying the process. He would usually be reading by the fire, but with what was going on around the world, literature didn’t keep his attention.
He eyed his cell phone on the table and wondered if he’d made the proper decision. He should never have invited Saul here. To his sanctuary.
Bill ate the food, cleaning up afterwards. He might have let himself go over the years, but he always kept a tidy home, and that was something to be proud of.
After adding a couple of logs onto the glowing embers, he kicked off his slippers and lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. His own house near the coast was modern, a purchase just above his station in life. His syndicated show paid him well, so he’d gone with this realtor friend’s suggestion. But Bill was a simple man, with simple tastes. Lying here, with the scent of firewood drifting by, and the low popcorn-covered ceilings, Bill felt more at home than in his real house.
He drifted to sleep eventually, and when he woke, it was to a loud banging on the door. Bill reached under the couch cushion, pulling out his Cobra. He spun the barrel and locked her in place as he went to the entrance.
“Who is it?” he called. It was dark, meaning he’d slept for hours. The fire had burned out, and the cabin had a chill to it.
“Saul.”
Bill kept the gun in his hand and twisted the two commercial deadbolts. The door swung inward, and the man stared at him with squinting eyes. He was big. Not overly tall. Older than Bill by a few years. But even under the puffer jacket, Bill could tell the guy was built like a brick outhouse.
Saul eyed his gun. “You gonna lower that?”
Bill hadn’t even noticed he was aiming the revolver at the newcomer. “Sorry. Caught me off guard.”
“No problem.” Saul entered, taking stock of the cabin. Bill could see him paying attention to the details, as if memorizing them. He was a pro. At what, Bill couldn’t be sure.
“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” Bill told him.
Saul tugged his wool hat off and thrust it into his pocket. He was bald, with a white goatee. “Roads were hell. You picked a real remote place, Mr. McReary.”
“Call me Bill.” Bill stuck out his hand, and Saul appraised it before shaking.
“We have to leave, Bill.” Saul stepped inside with his boots, and snow fell behind him.
“Wait. Go? Where?” This hadn’t been part of the bargain.
“You told me you’d introduce me to Roger.” Saul went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a beer. He popped the top and took a drink, exaggerating how refreshing it was.
“I said I’d connect you two. I have his phone number,” Bill said. This wasn’t going as he’d expected. The situation was slipping through his fingertips.
“Phones are down. Cells don’t work. Internet’s kaput. That leaves one option.” Saul chugged more of the beverage and wiped his mustache with a sleeve. “I’ve heard your message on the radio.”
“You can’t be serious. It’s a storm out there. We can’t drive to Georgia.”
“Why not? It’ll be clear once we’re in Kansas. I came from Colorado, and this is far worse,” Saul told him.
“I have a bunker. I was planning on—”
“Hiding out? You have a chance to turn the tides of this coming war, my friend. Do you want to stay hidden underground or do something about the invasion?” Saul’s eyes were intense, and Bill was being drawn in. He tried to fight it, but Saul’s words affected him regardless.
“This really is an invasion?” Bill asked.
“It is. Maybe it looks a little different than all the TV shows and old sci-fi books, but there are beings in those Objects, and they want Earth.” Saul pulled a sack from his other pocket and started to fill it with food.
Beings. Objects. Bill had been discussing them for months on the radio, and now that he was face to face with someone who seemed informed, he had one question. “Why?”
Saul stopped what he was doing. “Because they can.”
Bill didn’t wait. He packed up his clothing, making sure to bring his generator. He tossed in some extra ammunition, but when they got to Saul’s truck, he doubted that was necessary. The man was armed to the teeth.
“We better not get pulled over,” Bill told him.
“I don’t think the police will worry about two old men driving through a snowstorm. They have bigger fish to fry.” Saul stayed while Bill locked up. He set a gloved palm on the cabin, and part of him wished he was staying where it was safe, and quiet, and warm. But when he climbed into Saul’s brand-new truck, his pulse quickened. This was going to be an adventure. An experience unlike anything he’d ever had.
There was no Sinclair breathing down his neck, or callers criticizing his show. It was him and this stranger, battling their way to Georgia, where the leader of the Freedom Earthers resided.
“How do you have so much intel on what’s happening?” Bill asked once they’d turned off his private drive and onto the gravel road. It was snow-covered, like everything; hal
f of the tree branches were drooping from the weight, some already snapped.
“Do you really want to know?” Saul asked.
“Sure. Why not?” Bill guessed they had a solid three-day drive ahead of them, and that was with them trading off driving duties.
“I’m part of an old group. There were four of us. Promissa Terra. Mean anything to you?” Saul asked.
Bill grinned. “I took a little Latin back in college. Promised land.”
“Very good. Not many get that one.”
“Who was in this group?” Bill asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Me. Dirk Walker. Clayton Belvedere. And Brian Hardy.”
“I don’t recognize the names.” Bill sensed he was missing an important detail.
“We had a benefactor at the start. Man named Hunter Madison.”
The story was getting interesting. “Now that’s a familiar name. Quite the philanthropist. Where are they?”
“My friends? Dead. They’re all dead.” Snow blustered against the windshield as they turned onto the highway, heading east.
3
Now
I was unfamiliar with this rescue boat’s controls, and was also surprised such a nice craft was attached to the smaller cruise ship. Then it clicked. They were obviously wealthy patrons, spending big bucks to see a magnificent sight like Ball’s Pyramid. Unfortunately for them, an alien invasion had begun while they were on vacation.
I pushed the mundane thought from my mind, focusing on the dash. The controls were in Japanese.
Another boom sounded from near the island, and I guessed the Umir had arrived. Why hadn’t we brought radios with us? We were too rushed, with no time for planning once we returned to Earth amidst the meteor shower sent from the Objects.
“Be okay, Veronica,” I said out loud while tapping controls. I’d been on enough swamp barges in South America, and river boats in Singapore, to know my way around these smaller craft. Once I found the images, I urged the boat faster, heading directly for the island. It loomed high in the sky, a piercing monolith in the middle of the ocean.
The helicopter had settled, and I couldn’t see it from this position. The boat rolled on the choppy water, and it cut over a wave, gaining airtime. It landed hard, and I almost fell over but managed to stay on my feet. I slowed it slightly. It wouldn’t do me any good to drown before I reached Baska and Veronica.
I felt in my jumpsuit’s pocket and noticed my gun was missing. It must have fallen out when I went into the water the second time—not that I expected the 9MM could do much against the metal hull of that Umir.
The clouds parted as I neared the island, and a beam of light shone directly on the peaks. I basked in the image for a split second, and the boat’s bottom dragged on a something hidden in the water. This area was famous for being difficult to access. The rock wasn’t far under the surface, and my boat was caught on the outcropping.
The edge of the island was twenty meters away, and the water was oddly calm between me and my destination. I took the chance.
I stepped out, finding purchase on a slick stone worn from years of waves. I crossed the distance with water up to my thighs, arms reaching like I was balancing on a tightrope.
Something splashed beside me, and I realized it was ballistic. Another one hit, and I went faster. I’d been seen.
My footing slipped as I approached solid ground, and I rolled forward, hitting the same shoulder again. I yelled in surprise, and pushed my back against a ridge in the rock. I was on Ball’s Pyramid, and an alien robot was trying to kill me. How fitting.
A shot struck a few feet in front of me. My heart pounded as I craned my neck looking for my next move. If I could distract the Umir, my allies could gather the weapons and ships we needed to win the coming war. As another bullet smashed a boulder to smithereens, I was reminded that the war had already begun.
I found remnants of climbing gear along the ridge near me. The old shield volcano was a climber’s paradise. I used an anchor to pull myself up the incline and smiled when I spotted a dangling rope.
My aching shoulder sparked as I crouched and ascended the steep rise as fast as I could. The Umir wouldn’t expect I was capable of climbing this unaided, and I guessed I was going to end up behind it.
I took a break five minutes later, my breaths coming fast and ragged. There had been no sign of the Umir since I’d first landed on the island, but that meant he could be hunting Veronica.
Despite my body’s protests, I kept moving. The island was so small, with very little land to explore. I knew Veronica had lowered to the far edge, to the single extension flat enough to sustain the helicopter. What was the Umir waiting for?
I made it to the peak and clutched the spine of the rock, dragging myself up. There it was. The Umir was tall and thin when rolled out from its sphere shape. Its guns pointed forward and down, and I heard a gentle whirring noise as it measured the island from its perch.
I didn’t have any weapons and wouldn’t stand a chance against such a creation. I crept closer, moving as silently as possible. It was focused on the helicopter, and I understood what it was doing. This Umir had been sent to spy. It wanted to discover what the Rodax had brought, and then they could plan on how to defeat their new enemy.
I wouldn’t give them the chance. The Umir was close, and I crawled on my hands and knees, careful not to fall over the edge. From this vantage point, I could see the last of the cruise ship sinking into the dark depths, and below on the island was the helicopter. There was no sign of Veronica or Baska anywhere.
The Umir beeped softly, and I wondered if it was transmitting this to the Objects, or maybe to the other robots that had dropped to Earth. It looked heavy, almost twice my height. I rocketed to my feet, balancing precariously with my soles on both sides of the ridge.
It must have noticed me at the last moment, because it began to turn. The last thing I saw was the red eyes, before I shoved it directly in the center of its mass. It fell from the ledge, plummeting to the rocks below. I watched as it folded into a sphere shape and bounced off the landing. It crushed like a watermelon and rolled lopsided into the ocean.
“Veronica!” I shouted.
I listened, but all I could hear was the gentle wind blowing against the volcano’s edge.
“Rex!” Her voice sounded miles away. “Rex!” This time, it was closer.
I sat on the peak’s ledge, legs dangled over. I didn’t trust my tired body to safely make the hike down, but hearing Veronica’s voice gave me a boost of adrenaline. Then I identified her. She waved, smiling from ear to ear at the sight of me.
Rejuvenated, I started back along the path I’d come. I looped around the island, using handholds the climbing community had left behind, and eventually made it to the helicopter. Baska and Veronica were at a rock wall, and she ran to me, enveloping me in a hug.
“Rex, how did you get here?” she asked.
“You mean, after you abandoned me for dead?” I smiled, showing I was kidding.
“The Umir. You killed it.” Baska glanced back from the wall. Dust and pebbles fell from above as the entire landing began vibrating. A door slid open, giving way to a cavern in the island.
“You were waiting to deal with the Umir first?” I asked.
Baska confirmed this with a nod. “They are connected to one another. Part of the reason we need these supplies is to gather the locator.”
“What’s that?” I asked him.
“We have the means to track the Umirs’ positions, but we lack the ability to find their central hub,” Baska said.
“I’m missing something.” I followed Baska into the cavern, with Veronica behind me.
“The Zalt have dropped a hub, an Umir that links them all together. It gives them the ability to communicate and act like a network. Without that hub…”
“They’re lone wolves,” I whispered. “And there’s something in here that will point us to the hub, so we can stop them?”
“Not quite. We need on
e of the Umir intact to do that,” Baska continued on.
“Great. Now you tell me.”
“It was probably best you destroyed it. I don’t think I could have incapacitated it on this island,” Baska admitted.
“Do you know this place?” I inquired.
“No, but the details were given to me. I’ve never been to a Seedling world before. None of us have.”
Veronica jumped when Baska pressed a light on inside the cavern. It was built into the volcano.
“I doubt it always looked like this. Planets change much over time.” Baska stood at another wall and used a device from his pocket. It blinked orange, and the walls began to spread apart. We found a long set of steps carved into the stone.
“Lower?” I asked.
“That’s correct.” Baska applied his tool again, powering round lights in the stairs. They guided our path.
Sheer will allowed me to make it to the bottom, which was somewhere around two hundred meters below the ocean’s surface. We walked into an open cavern, and I stood at the doorway, captivated by what I viewed.
“You guys aren’t messing around,” Veronica muttered.
There were two spaceships here, as promised, looking much like the one we’d flown from Porto in. These seemed deadlier somehow: black, with rough edges and giant thrusters. They were winged, with dozens of smaller thrusters facing down across their span.
Baska crossed the smooth stone floor to a computer console. He tried the controls, but it failed. “Too much time has passed.”
“Can you get it to work?” I asked, wishing Marcus was here.
“Lewen is better with this, but I will have to do.” He went behind the tower and opened a hatch near the top.
While Baska set to it, Veronica walked to one of the ships. “We did it, Rex. All that struggle for the Tokens, then the seventh Token. We actually accessed the Bridge.”
Lost Hope (The Bridge Sequence Book Three) Page 4