by Dave Lacey
“It’s quite a way from here... around ten miles I’d say.” Darren looked like there was more, but he spoke no further.
“Okay. And?”
“And it’s a dark place.”
“You've been there?” Jack asked.
“No, but I know plenty who have. Some have come back, some haven't.” Darren paled at the memory.
“Yeah? Why's that?” Jack asked, and swallowed hard. His veneer was failing him.
“It’s where they meet. Coffey and his kind. There are members of other colonies. They’re not good people. They have no moral compass. They’re unchained.”
“Worst case?” Jack asked.,
“Torture and murder.”
Jack sagged further as the words came. Smithy turned away and took a seat. Millie didn’t move, nor did she show any outward sign of emotion.
“Then there's no time to waste.” Jack took a deep breath, then went on. “We're going to leave for the Hill now. Can you protect those that are here, Darren?” After a pause, Darren replied.
“Yes. There are enough men here, and more than enough women with attitude.” He smiled at the last part. “But I'm going with you,” he said.
Jack started to shake his head before he even started speaking.
“No, you're not. You've done enough I think. Now it’s time for you to get your daughters out of here. Or at least protect them until we're back.” It was Darren's turn to shake his head. He placed his hands on the top of two of the girl's heads as he replied.
“No, Jack. The girls will be fine now. There are people here I trust, and they will look after my girls until I return.” His hands dropped to his sides and he took a step forward. His eyes glittered in the dim light as he took a deep breath. “I too have a score to settle with Coffey and his kind. You're not the only one who's been marked by all this.”
“Fine,” said Jack. “Do what you like, but who looks after your daughters if you don't come back?” Jack could feel Millie's eyes on him as he said it, and he felt a little disappointed in himself for being so cruel. But he had to know that Darren was aware of the danger he faced. They grabbed supplies, the sense of urgency growing all the time, and left the remainder of Darren’s community behind.
Once on the road, Jack continued the discussion they’d begun below ground. Darren waited while Jack asked his question again. “Why come with us? Why risk leaving your daughters fatherless?”
“Do you not think we've been through that scenario dozens, maybe hundreds of times over the last few years? Do you have any idea what living there has been like? This,” Darren paused as he searched for the right words. “This nightmare has taught us many things. But the main thing is that, here, life is cheap. Even before this occupation, life was all about revenge. Most people spent their entire lives taking shit from people they despised, all the time secretly plotting revenge.” He paused, his breathing ragged. “What shape it would take, how sweet it would be when it came. It was the only thing keeping people sane most of the time.
“And then this came along. In many ways, lots of people are better off now than they were before, or at least no worse. What could you possibly have to worry about now, other than surviving?” Darren had moved ahead slightly, again using his arms and hands to emphasize his point. Millie cut in during a brief hiatus.
“I understand what you’re saying, I really do. But we need to consider something else while you’re all shouting at each other.” She said.
“What’s that?” Darren asked, turning his head as he walked.
“Anybody keeping watch will be able to hear us from quite a distance away. The three men looked at each other and blushed in the darkness.
It was almost certain to be light by the time they found the Hill. The site itself was the old Everton water tower. It had survived the invasion completely intact, and could still be seen during daylight hours from five miles or so away. The journey there would be treacherous. After their initial discussion and reprimand, they set off at a jog trot. Even Darren managed to keep up for the first hour. Then they slowed to a fast walk. The light, or lack of it, afforded them good cover, but still they needed to be wary.
There were so many potential pitfalls on their journey that the balance between getting there fast and getting there at all was a fine one. Jack reckoned they had covered five miles when they encountered their first difficulty. He was watching Darren for signs of fatigue when Millie signalled for them all to hit the ground. Anyone watching would have thought they'd all been taken out by a sniper. All four of them went from brisk walk to flat on the ground almost instantly. Jack was about to ask why, when the answer appeared.
It was a 'Lander air patrol. Their aircraft was edging around a corner, two hundred and fifty yards from their position. Careful not to move too much, they used knees and elbows to shuffle their way into the lee of what was left of a nearby building. That was the beauty of the battered landscape: most of the time there was somewhere to hide. The craft made short turns, skidding in the air as it hunted for fresh meat. Its back end fishtailed as it maintained height at a steady six or seven knots. Jack could hear Darren panting like an excitable St Bernard.
Jack blew air through his nostrils in annoyance. He shouldn't have let the man come with them. He wasn't fit enough, and he was just one more person to take responsibility for. He berated himself and shuffled forward. “Are you okay?” he stage whispered to Darren. Darren turned to him, his wounded pride reflected in his eyes.
“I'm fine. Just a little out of breath,” Darren responded, shrugging Jack’s hand from his shoulder.
“Okay, okay. Jesus,” Jack muttered, rolling his eyes. He turned away from Darren and looked out at the ground they had just fled. The rain and its resulting puddles lay before him. Then he noticed the mud, their footsteps imprinted there, unaltered, like a betrayal. There was a good chance that the 'Lander patrol wouldn't spot them, but if they did…. As Jack stared at the footprints, he felt a hand close on his shoulder. Smithy had seen them too.
“We need to be alert now, people. It appears we've been sloppy.” Jack pointed at the footprints to indicate to the other two the mistake they had all made. Darren frowned, clearly not seeing the issue. But Millie scowled, and Jack saw her flick the safety on her rifle to the off position. He looked at Darren for a few seconds longer, concerned that their new companion had not faced the 'Landers in a hostile situation before.
He was about to speak when the craft pulled up level with their position. By Jack’s reckoning, they were still a couple of miles from the Hill and around twenty or twenty-five miles from their own community. They were far enough from the Hill not to alert anybody there if things got ugly.
The craft hovered in the air, fifty feet from their spot. The lights on the underside scanned the terrain, roving from side to side and front to back. Jack realized he'd been holding his breath for the past twenty seconds or so. He released it in a controlled wheeze, his eyes not leaving the underside of the enemy craft. Just as he hoped they might move on, the lights stopped roving.
They had fixed on the area of ground where the footprints were most prominent. Jack’s mouth hardened into a thin compressed line. He took a harsh breath through his nose and tensed. His hand crept out to take hold of Darren's left arm. He had sensed, rather than seen, Darren's trigger finger reaching for its niche.
Jack stilled it in its progress. Darren tried to shake it off, but Jack's grip was like iron. He turned his head and shook it a couple of times at Darren. Now is not the time. Darren relented, his arm relaxed, and Jack let it go. His attention returned to the enemy ship. And, as his last hope faded, it landed on the ground, the mud spreading from beneath its four sturdy feet. The engines died, and the hatch in the side hissed and opened. Four 'Landers swarmed down the ramp that doubled as a door. They fanned out into a rough semi-circle, covering one hundred and eighty degrees. Jack grimaced in the dark. They were experienced. This was not going to be as easy as he had hoped.
Whi
le the four guards scanned the darkness in front of them, a Tracker and its keeper came down the ramp. Shit. They were really screwed now. The Trackers were 'Landers, but they were deformed and wizened outcasts. Twisted and abused, beaten and whipped by their keepers. Jack had seen them used many times. They came down the ramp, the Tracker sniffing at the ground and at the air. They mooched around the footprints, while the Tracker picked up the scent. Before Jack had considered what to do next, the Tracker screeched. A high pitched sound reverberating through Jack’s inner ear, causing him to wince. It looked right at him and gave a low moan.
Jack flicked his safety off, ready for what would follow. The Tracker pointed at their position. The guards bunched and moved forward. Maybe they were not as experienced as Jack had assumed. Bunching just meant four smaller targets became one big one. As they came together and moved forward, Jack aimed and fired a long burst from his weapon, an SA80 assault rifle, standard issue English Army, and very effective at this range. The four-second burst let loose around fifteen rounds, and, as he fired, Jack traversed the gun left to right and back again. It was a deadly, staccato fusillade, and it did its job.
The four guards went down immediately. Without Jack having to give the order, Millie and Smithy fell into their roles. Millie took careful aim, with her assault rifle set to single shot, and picked off the Tracker’s keeper, shooting it through the head. Smithy was already on his knees, pulling the pin on a grenade, drawing back his arm ready to throw. But the well-drilled machine that was the three of them had forgotten about Darren. As Smithy aimed his throw, Darren rose to his knees and fired a volley at the Tracker, but missed. Jack, Millie and Smithy's community tried never to kill Trackers. They were harmless and pitiful animals, who were grateful when given the chance to run.
Darren’s gunshots disturbed Smithy's throw. Just as Darren missed the Tracker, so Smithy's grenade missed its mark. He'd been aiming for the open hatch, which would have rid them of any further problems with the cruiser or its inhabitants. But the grenade bounced off the right-hand side of the door frame and skittered into the mud.
It went off, and, although it damaged the side of the ship, the remaining 'Landers would be totally unharmed. And they were. After a five-second delay, out they came. Twelve more of them, scattering in all directions, making themselves difficult to hit. It was amazing how quickly the ‘Landers had adapted to the guerrilla tactics of Earth’s inhabitants. They moved quick and low, taking cover where they were afforded it. Now the task of the four of them had become considerably more life threatening.
The simple pattern they had started with had been thrown into chaos. Instead of the grenade being amplified by the inside of the ship, causing massive damage, they now had to pick off another dozen 'Landers, in the open, and spread out. Jack fired snap shots off to his right. They missed. Darren was firing randomly, in panicked prolonged bursts, moving his gun in wild arcs of fire.
Jack was about to stop him, but thought better of it. The gun would jam and overheat or run empty within the next few seconds. They were old weapons, and long gone were the days when you could fire them until they emptied over and over. As he had the thought, Darren's gun clicked empty. He had no more magazines, so the job was done. Jack looked hard at him and motioned for him to stay down.
Thankfully, Darren looked sheepish and hunkered down. Jack's attention switched back to the 'Landers. They learned quickly, and pretty soon his small team would find themselves outflanked.
Right now, he could see the backs of a number of the 'Landers moving off to the sides. A head popped up over the top of a pile of bricks. As he swung his gun to draw a bead, a hard crack came from his right. Millie had seen it too and had taken the shot. Jesus, she was good. He knew he wouldn't have hit the target, it would have taken too much time for him to bring his gun to bear. She must have been poised to fire, saw the head bob up, and fired. There was a spray of matter from the back of the head, and the 'Lander slumped from sight. One down, eleven to go.
As he considered how to proceed, Jack had to duck quickly from sight himself. Two of the waiting enemy had risen from the flanks and fired simultaneously. They all ducked reflexively as they were showered with clods of earth and other debris raised from the incoming fire. The 'Landers weapons fired small explosive shells, similar to bullets but many times more deadly. If you got winged, you were more or less dead. More shot riddled the cover over their heads, bringing down more debris, covering them in loose rubble.
“We have to move from here,” Smithy shouted above the din. “We're sitting ducks if we don't.”
“How would you suggest we do that Mr Smith? I'm all ears.” Jack grinned at his friend.
“You’re the smart one, you tell me,” Smithy replied, his voice muffled as it was pressed into the earth. The 'Landers were taking it in turns to lay down suppressing fire now, making it hard for the humans to return fire.
“How many grenades do you have left?” Jack asked Smithy. Millie was crawling forward, staying low on her elbows and knees. She drew level with her brother, got close to his ear and spoke.
“So, this is another fine mess you've gotten me into.” She smiled as Jack looked at her face. He half smiled, half grimaced at her in the dark.
“Yeah, well, you knew what you were signing up for,” Smithy answered as he closed on Jack's other side. “One. I have one grenade left,” Smithy said.
“Okay, well, we need to make a decision then. Do we force them into the ship, or do we try to get the grenade into the ship and bring it down?” the three of them adopted the same raised eyebrow, eyes wide, I don't know faces. It was a bum choice, but they needed to make the decision.
“If we take out the ship, then they have no cover and nothing to lose. Do we really want them with their backs to the wall?” Smithy offered.
“I'm not sure they're going to give up anyway, flower,” Millie said to him. “Ship or no ship, I don't think they're going to offer us a way out.” She gave a wry smile.
“So what, we use it as a diversion?” Smithy asked. Jack thought for a moment, then offered his thoughts.
“Okay, so we're not taking out the ship?” he asked, looking from one to the other, a single eyebrow raised. They both shook their heads, then Smithy spoke.
“Yeah, too risky.” Smithy added.
The three of them edged close to the rim of their redoubt. More incoming fire pinged off brick work and burrowed into the earth around them. Jack glanced back at Darren, who was flat on the floor, unmoving.
“Okay, Smithy, I'm going to get up in a few seconds and open fire on them. Once I’ve started, you pull the pin and join me. I'll try to figure out which side gives us the optimum damage option, then you throw for it. Millie, care to join me in laying down some heat?” He already knew the answer – she was the bravest person he knew.
“Sure do, bro, let’s do it.” Jack nodded, then started a count.
“One, two, three...” He and Millie turned over and rose to their knees. They opened fire, Millie left, Jack right. Their eyes darted back and forth, assessing their enemy as they let off short, controlled bursts.
“Left,” shouted Millie.
Jack called out at the same time. “They're bunched on the left.”
Smithy took aim and threw, releasing the handle at the same time. The three of them dropped back down, and Jack turned and watched the flight of the grenade as far as he could. It flew in a gentle arc, looking innocuous as it seemed to hang in the air for an eternity. Then it dipped down and seemed to accelerate towards the target. There were three or four 'Landers grouped behind some compacted earth. The grenade fell short. Jack held his breath. Then the grenade bounced like a Barnes Wallace creation, teetered on the lip, and rolled over it.
The timing was impeccable, though accidental. As it dribbled over the edge, it exploded. Jack winced. The devastation would be total. As he opened his eyes, he saw various limbs and other debris flung in all directions. While the collection of limbs and clods of earth where s
till turning through the air, the group of three humans still able to bear arms, rose as one.
There were seven or eight ‘Landers left, and at least four of them were currently attempting to outflank their position. That left four in front of them. Two stood to confront the humans, and that was the last mistake they made. Millie picked off one, Jack the other. Six remained, four of them unseen and likely closing on their position. The other two were trying to get back to the cruiser, using any cover available to them.
Without warning, Smithy made a bolt for it. He clambered over the lip of their cover, and scrabbled down the slope below them. The rain had started again, which made the slope almost impossible to cope with. Jack watched helpless as Smithy twice fell on his backside. As he moved to follow his friend, his path was cut off. The quickly liquidizing earth in front of him erupted in a hail of gunfire.
The four flanking ‘Landers had attacked from above and behind them. Jack put out a silent thank you to Smithy. He had saved their lives by risking his own. If they had all stayed put, the four ‘Landers above them would have used the element of surprise and rushed them where they knelt.
As it was, Smithy had taken everybody by surprise. Jack turned and dropped in one smooth move. He braced for impact as his back struck the softening ground. As it did, his arms came up, holding his rifle. He saw the tops of two heads sticking out over the rim above him. There was no time to aim, and so he fired from the hip. The first burst was too low, and ripped more earth from the rim. The second burst took one of the heads high, and he watched as the top of the monstrous visage was blown away and the body tumbled forward. The second head managed to pull back and out of view. They would not make the same mistake again.