Critical Dawn (20 page)

Marek sprinted to the downed alien outside and grabbed the weapon by its side. Gregor edged around the entrance, aiming into the hazy gap. One alien lay against the dirt wall. Its uniform was ripped around its body armor, and its helmet was smashed. The other slumped at the top of the stairs, the bottom half of its right leg missing.

Gregor gritted his teeth and stamped on the croatoan’s visor, smashing it like an eggshell. The alien let out a light wheeze as its skin crackled.

“What the fuck?” Marek said.

“We need to warn the others,” Gregor said. “The croatoans are turning. Layla was right. It’s happening now.”

He glanced at the three dead aliens and scowled.

Augustus. It had to be him.

Layla sat in the chocolate factory peering at monitors. Results increased by fifty-five percent since they designated harvesters to the land she’d helped pinpoint. It wasn’t what she wanted anymore. It wouldn’t be what any human wanted.

She’d arrived at the monitors as Igor was taking off in the square, the same time as the surveyors. They buzzed around in the usual fashion, business as usual stuff. Mixing soil samples in glass tubes, poring over charts, and generally appearing fussy. To avoid looking too suspicious, Layla moved to the back of the building.

Vlad slumped against the desk, oblivious to it all. He yawned and twiddled a pen. “Do you want a coffee? I’ve still got some of that freeze-dried crap left. A bit gravelly but …”

“No thanks. Have you seen anything different around here in the last couple of weeks?” Layla said.

“What do you mean? Like croatoan stuff? It’s all alien to me.”

Vlad seemed to have thrown up the mental shutters long ago. He didn’t care about anything, at least not when she tried to strike up a conversation. Layla couldn’t decide whether to feel jealous or sorry for him.

Her planned task for today was to check the occupants of the breeding lab. Events of the last two days had a horrible effect of pushing reality to the surface. Survival was no longer an excuse. The thin self-justification for her actions had vanished, and she knew it.

She got up and sighed. “I’ll leave you to it. Speak later.”

The job still had to be done. It wasn’t all about her personal feelings. Twenty women, humans, needed their welfare checking.

Croatoans streamed out of the door ahead of Layla. Outside, it was raining.

They circled around, taking off their gloves and jiggling their fingers. She hugged the side of the building to keep dry and headed for the breeding lab.

Livestock still had sex. One of the remaining human instincts or urges that hadn’t been stripped away by the croatoan regime. It was a daily occurrence in the paddock, embarrassing at first, but she’d gotten used to it.

At least the croatoans had stopped finding human intercourse a source of interest. They’d often gather around the paddock and watch, pointing at the male’s penis and clicking loudly.

The novelty wore off after a few months. Layla thought it was childish, like her former student colleagues who’d giggle at clips of animals having sex.

A tractor rumbled across the square. Alex, wearing her bright yellow waterproof, drove it from the meat factory toward the paddocks. She stopped when she saw Layla and called, “I took one in yesterday. Give me a shout if they need any more food.”

“Will do, thanks,” Layla said, holding her thumb up.

The tractor rumbled away, cutting a dirty track across the damp ground.

Any female exhibiting a bump would be identified, usually by Alex, during feeding time, and they’d be sent to the breeding lab. They were fed slop, kept inside, and monitored until they gave birth. Alex played midwife. Layla would assist if she were around. She hadn’t been required lately although a couple of women were only a matter of days away.

Layla took a deep breath and opened the door.

Inside, the roof echoed with the sound of a single woman’s quiet sobbing.

Symptoms of stress were common. Women would bite their nails, refuse to eat, and often shake. The paddock was their natural environment, unlike the enclosed walls, a single bed, and waste bucket. Layla had given up trying to offer comfort. It had a scarring effect. And when one started crying, others in adjoining rooms would often join them.

She walked along, glancing through small square windows on individual doors.

The layout inside was quite simple. A long corridor ran along the middle of the warehouse with brightly lit, sparse cells on either side. Forty in all. At the moment, they had a fifty percent occupancy rate.

The inhabitants were identified by room numbers, which Layla had painted on the doors.

One woman sat hugging her knees, rocking backwards and forwards. Another pressed her hand against the plastic pane as Layla passed. The majority of the twenty lay placidly on their black plastic mattresses.

In the second to last room near the end of the corridor on the floor, a woman was lying, spread out on her front. Layla took a sharp intake of breath. She knocked on the window and received no response.

She twisted the circular locking mechanism. It opened with a clank. Layla pushed the door, forcing it the last couple of inches with her shoulder to move rigid legs out of the way. Creating enough space to enter through a narrow gap.

When she reached down and grabbed an arm, it was pale and stiff. Too late. Rigor mortis had set in.

Next to the woman’s outstretched hand was a small, humanlike figure crafted from twisted, dry grass. A charm or keepsake. The first she’d seen created by livestock.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

Layla hadn’t witnessed a death in the building before. She’d only heard about it occurring. The procedure was to hit the green call button by the entrance. Layla hurried along the corridor with her head in her hands.

She depressed the saucer-sized button. It flashed and let out two soft, electronic beeps.

A minute later, two croatoans walked across the main square carrying a gray metal slab, heading straight for the breeding lab. They didn’t move with any great urgency and stopped to talk to a group of aliens by the hover-bikes before finally reaching the building.

The first one bumped through the swing doors and looked at Layla. She led them along the corridor and pointed into the cell. The croatoans briefly paused. One clicked, and they both jerked forward.

They placed the slab on the floor, grabbed the body by its hair and robe, and rolled it on. The front area of the woman’s clothing was stained dark purple. Layla closed her eyes tightly and put her hand against the corridor wall for support.

The patter of alien feet passed her. She opened her eyes and watched them bounce along the corridor.

Faces started to appear through the little windows. One woman wailed. Then another. As the croatoans carried the body to the entrance, the whole place echoed with crying and moaning.

Layla followed the aliens, watched them bump back through the doors. They crossed the main square, around the hover-bikes, and straight into the meat-processing warehouse.

She leaned with her back against the wall. The wailing continued, penetrating deep inside her. She wanted to run but didn’t know where. She clasped her hands around the back of her head, bringing her elbows together in front of her face. Her back slid down the wall until she ended up in a crouching position.

A woman peered through the closest window, sobbing. Layla shuffled sideways toward the door, out of view, gulped, and took a deep breath.

She couldn’t hold it in any longer and joined the cacophony of weeping.

***

Layla composed herself in an empty cell, took a few deep breaths, and wiped tears from her face with her sweater sleeve. Something had to change. It was impossible to carry on at the farm now.

Perhaps it was time to find Charlie Jackson.

The breeding lab’s door banged open. Footsteps ran along the corridor. Vlad flashed past the open cell door. She heard him skid to a stop. He hurried into the cell.

“Layla, you’re wanted at the monitors. You need to come with me.” He fidgeted with a pencil, scraping his thumbnail against the sharpened end. “Layla. You have to—”

She sniffed and looked up. “Wanted by who?”

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. What’s happening?”

Vlad held his hand toward her. “Augustus. He wants to speak to you. Says it’s a matter of great urgency.”

Augustus never spoke to Layla on an individual basis. She’d talked to him at meetings with Gregor, and he’d made the odd passing comment to her around camp. This was the first time he’d directly requested her presence.

“Why me? Did he say anything else? Was he angry?”

She grabbed Vlad’s hand and hauled herself off the bed.

“He specifically asked for you. As for angry, who knows?” Vlad shrugged. “He wears a mask, and I struggle to understand his accent.”

Augustus’s accent was a mystery. He spoke with the fluency of a native English speaker but didn’t sound like any Layla had previously heard or met. Gregor had asked him where he was from a few years ago. Augustus replied,
Earth
.

The rain had abated outside, and surveyors crowded around the chocolate factory table. They ignored Vlad and Layla’s entrance, more interested in a tablet that was being passed around like a hot potato.

She could see the outline of Augustus’s head on the main monitor, surrounded by color, waiting for her.

“Do you know where he’s transmitting from?” Layla said.

Vlad pointed upwards.

When she reached the desk, Augustus leaned forward. He stroked his mask. The wall behind him was decorated with a series of bright rings. The largest outer circle was light pink, the inner ones different shades of blue.

This was her first glimpse inside the mother ship. It looked like Augustus was in a psychedelic brothel.

“Please take a seat, Layla,” Augustus said. She slid a stool from under the desk. Vlad flopped in his customary position. “I didn’t tell you to sit down, Vlad. Leave the building. Return in five minutes.”

“I’ll grab a bite to eat,” Vlad said and moved out of view of the monitors. He raised his eyebrows and repeatedly circled his ear with his finger before walking away.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Augustus?” Layla said.

“Where were you at three o’clock this morning?”

Layla felt her stomach knot. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a straightforward question.”

“I was sleeping. Why do you ask?”

She clenched her hands tightly underneath the desk.

“We had a security breach. Somebody, a human, came in here last night and looked through secure croatoan data.”

“It wasn’t me. Have you checked with the others?”

The only person who saw Layla last night was Igor. If he was in Augustus’s pocket, he’d probably spill the beans. Another reason for her to run. Her only option left.

“We’re carrying out some print analysis on one of the devices. You’ll all be required here tonight. The guilty party will receive swift justice.”

Layla would be gone by then. She wasn’t hanging around for Augustus to pass his sentence. “What’s so important about the data?”

Augustus tutted. “It’s the principle. We still need farm workers, especially for the breeding lab. If somebody doesn’t want to play the game, I’ll be the one to blow the final whistle.”

“No problem, Mr. Augustus. See you back here tonight.”

He waved his bony finger. “I haven’t finished yet. There’s some news you need to be aware of. Gregor’s gone.”

She leaned back on the stool. “Gone?”

“As we speak, he’s having his employment terminated. I need you to step up. Are you with me?”

“He’s being terminated?”

“Why do you insist on repeating me? The details are a trivial technicality, none of your concern. I’ll assume that you are still part of our team. Which reminds me, is Igor around? I need to speak with him.”

Layla’s mouth felt dry. She gulped. “He left this morning. Haven’t seen him since.”

“Send him here as soon as you do. I can’t get in touch.”

“Is that it, Mr. Augustus?”

“For now.”

The screen flashed back to monitoring the two most northern harvesters. Little red trails across the map, expanding the root coverage. All critical measurements showing green.

They’d murdered Gregor.

Augustus had all but confirmed Igor was in cahoots with him. Igor knew about her clandestine trip to the chocolate factory. It was only a matter of time. Layla focused on short-term survival. There was nothing for it but to grab some personal items from her trailer and get as far away as possible.

Mike was still smiling at Charlie when he handed him a chipped mug of steaming tea. Charlie took a deep swig and enjoyed the burning sensation. They sat around a dirty desk only slightly less cramped with stuff than Mike’s former desk above them in the Quaternary building.

“Since the invasion,” Charlie said to the others as they sat around the table, “Mike’s been in his element. Look at this place. It’s a tinker’s paradise. Every imaginable device is here, though most are in various stages of actual usefulness.”

Ethan had taken to Mike right away as Charlie’s old colleague gave the kid the tour. When they came back, it was obvious where Ethan’s future would lie. Right here with Mike building weapons and devices.

There was one problem however. Mai—Mike’s kinda-wife and fellow engineer. They’d set up a cozy existence together. Mai, a Chinese-American nuclear physicist, was one of the survivors within their cavern during the ice age. She and Mike had hit it off right away.

“So,” Charlie said, placing the mug on the table. “Now we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, what’s the status on the device?”

Mai entered the screened-off area carrying a silver Samsonite case. She cleared a space on the table and laid it flat, opening the lid and displaying for all to see the device that they’d been working on for the last five years.

It was all Mike’s idea. And it’d taken Charlie those five years to source the parts needed.

Maria looked over Charlie’s shoulder and Ethan over Mike’s. Denver was paying no attention, preferring to make a fuss of Pip, making sure she didn’t go sniffing into something dangerous. There was no telling what Mike and Mai had stashed around.

“What is it?” Maria said.

The device was the size of a laptop and was in fact built on the chassis of an old Lenovo Thinkpad. They were built with longevity in mind, and they’d certainly achieved that. In the early days of the design, Mike ironically wanted to use an Alienware machine.

“It’s a bomb,” Mai said, her accent now completely neutral. In the early days, she still had a lilt of Chinese to her, but with all the time spent with Mike, she’d come to sound just like him.

“Well, not exactly a traditional bomb,” Mike added with a smile. He pulled his long gray hair back, revealing a thinning pate. Not surprising considering his age. He was in his late seventies, but like Charlie, regular imbibing of the root kept him young and able.

At least that was one thing to thank the alien bastards for.

“So, what does it do if it’s not really a bomb?” Ethan said, leaning in further for a closer look.

Where the laptop screen used to be was now a rounded, metal shell. The track pad had been swapped out for a small OLED screen from a smartphone. The thing looked like a designer ‘70s toaster with some modern tech cobbled onto it, but beneath that shell was one of the most potent weapons ever devised, assuming it’d work.

“Well,” Mike said, putting his arm around Ethan’s shoulder. “What do you know of EMP devices?”

“Erm, nothing? Yet.”

Mike smiled, seeming to like the kid. “It stands for ElectroMagnetic Pulse.”

“Or Extreme Magnetic Pain,” Mai said with a wicked grin. Her leathery face and its many folds hid her intelligent eyes. She was younger than Mike by twenty years, but they could well have been twins on personality. Both wore wacky sweaters, and both had a brain that Charlie could only wish he had.

“So what does it do?” Maria said. “And how will this save us all as Charlie said?”

“It’ll tear the aliens a new asshole and send them packing back to the ass-end of the galaxy,” Mike said. “Once detonated, those turtle-looking fuckers won’t know what hit ‘em. Inside this unassuming shell is a nuclear bomb that makes Hiroshima look like a bee-sting. When it goes, it won’t just blow anything up, it’ll destroy anything electrical for hundreds and thousands of miles around.”

Maria seemed to understand as she turned to Charlie. “So for this to be effective, it’ll need to be set off within the croatoan ship? That means someone has to—”

Charlie stopped her with a hand, “We’ll come to that later. Mike, what’s the situation; it’s not ready to go, is it? And I can tell something’s up.”

“No,” Mike said. “We need one more part.”

Mai leaned against the table, regarding Charlie with her wise eyes. “Someone will need to make a trip to the Ford warehouse north of here. There’s a special kind of magnet they used in their last models. It’ll help regulate and deliver the pulse. We found an old one, but it wasn’t efficient enough. We need a new, unused one from the parts warehouse—if there’s any there of course.”

“Fuck it,” Charlie said, turning his back. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be an ass, I just thought …” He took a deep breath as Denver entered the room and stood in front of him.

“It’s not a problem, Dad. We’ll go get it. It’s only an hour’s walk. We’ll get the part and be out of here. The plan can still go ahead.”

“You’re right, son. I just wanted … I’m just getting impatient in my old age.”

“Here,” Mike said, handing Charlie a small black disc the size of an old dollar coin. “That’s the burnt-out one we found. We need something like that; two, if you can find them, would be even better. Always good to have a backup.”

“You got it. We’ll go now. Quicker we get it, the quicker we can carry out the rest of the plan,” Charlie said. “How long will it take you to fit?”

“A few minutes,” Mai said.

“Come on, son, let’s go for a midday stroll into town.”

“We’re coming with you,” Maria said. “If it’s this important, we can be of help. Be spotters or something, some extra backup.”

“No,” Charlie said. “It’s too dangerous. Anything and anyone can be out there. They’re not all gonna be like the last lot. The city dwellers are more hardcore. We need to move quickly and without fuss. It’s better if it’s just Den and me.”

“Fuck that,” Ethan said, surprising everyone. He slapped his hand on the table. “We’ve been through all kinds of crap to get here. I appreciate you looking out for us, but Ben’s been sent off to who knows what fate, and now you want us to just sit back. What if you get into trouble and we’re just sitting around waiting for you? No, we’re going.”

Mike grinned at Charlie as he patted the kid on the shoulder. “Looks like they’ve made their own minds up, Chuck. Let ‘em go with you. You can’t protect everyone. At some point, everyone has to call their own shots and stand on their own two feet.”

“Exactly,” Maria said. “It’s our choice, not yours.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Charlie turned his back and headed for the exit tunnel. “Grab your guns and follow me. On your own heads be it.”

***

The midday sun was just passing noon, creating thin, stubby shadows on the broken sidewalks and roads where the blacktop had long splintered off to expose the concrete beneath.

Few trees had managed to settle within the city, but there were still overgrown areas of bushes and shrubs, contrasting their natural hues with the monochromatic palette of human endeavor. Charlie and Denver stuck to the main streets where possible. If there were any survivors in the area, they’d likely be in the houses; many had set up homes there or in the low-rise apartment buildings, almost as if nothing had happened.

There were some who still thought it meant something to live in Manhattan. But the place was a ghost town now with little to offer anyone apart from the most basic of shelters. Unlike Mike and Mai’s basement that had power from the building’s rebuilt diesel generators, almost none of the makeshift domiciles had any power. Years before, Charlie had been part of a fuel group whose task was to extract fuel from other generators, cars, and trucks.

The yield was low, but given the sheer number of sources, they’d managed to gather enough to keep the Quaternary basement running with power for decades to come. Most of that was due to Mai’s genius in mixing the diesel generators with solar and wind power.

They’d made their way about halfway to the warehouse, weaving in and out of streets, making sure they were covered at all times by shadows or dilapidated buildings. Denver, as ever, took point, using his scope to observe their intended route.

Maria and Ethan took up the rear and watched the flanks.

Charlie kept his attention on the sky. He didn’t want to worry the others, but ever since they’d arrived, he’d seen the shadow out of the corner of his eye and the glint of something in the clouds. It was flying in stealth mode now, but after hearing the roar earlier, he knew it was here.

Which of course was one of the reasons he didn’t want the others to come with him, but like Mike said, they had to make the choice; he couldn’t protect them at all times.

They crossed a street, rounding a pair of rusted limousines. Most of the road signs had lost all their lettering to the elements. Given the destruction, he couldn’t tell exactly where they were but knew they’d walked for thirty minutes, always heading north. The Ford warehouse wouldn’t be much further.

As they turned left out of a tight avenue, they came to a wide road that led straight forward. Before Charlie could warn the others, having just seen the shadow the instant he walked out onto the road, an alien fighter craft—triangular, flat, and deadly black—landed at the end of the street no more than a hundred feet away.

“Get into cover,” Charlie shouted as he dived behind a pile of rubble on the left side of the street. Denver joined him. Maria split to the right, and Ethan remained in the middle of the street looking confused, his attention on the alien craft.

It looked nothing like the regular croatoan shuttles and was more advanced than the first fighters that had come down after the invasion. This was something new.

A door opened. Blue light surrounded an alien creature with an almost neon glow. This was no ordinary alien. It was twice as tall as any croatoan soldier and featured a form-fitting, matte-black suit. Its head was flat and pointed, resembling the triangular hull of its craft.

Before anyone had time to do anything, a blast of blue energy shot out down the road. Charlie screamed for Ethan to move, but the kid was too slow, too scared. The bolt of energy coalesced into what looked like ball lightning.

It struck Ethan with a crackling explosion.

The boy’s body seemed to be ripped apart at the cellular level as he screamed. A few seconds later, all that remained was a charred, black stain on the street’s surface. He’d been completely vaporized.

Another bolt, smaller this time, fired down the street, crashing into the debris. Charlie and Denver jumped back just in time. The shot destroyed half of the concrete before it ran out of energy. The air crackled with electricity. Maria screamed from the other side.

“Get down! Stay down,” Charlie screamed over to her. He pulled the pistol from his hip and aimed at the alien. It was on the move now, walking purposefully down the street, reaching behind its back.

“Mother fucker,” Denver said as he raised his rifle, using a part of the partially melted rubble to steady his aim. He adjusted the scope and took a deep breath.

Charlie fired off three controlled shots, aiming for the giant alien’s legs and torso. His aim was off. Something about the way the alien moved made it hard to focus. “Shoot the fucker,” Charlie said, urging his son.

Denver obliged. The crack of the rifle echoed around the buildings. The shot was true, but the alien seemed to shift physically in a blur. Charlie fired off two more shots. They went right through the weird-phasing movement of the alien, striking the craft with a spark behind him.

Maria, screaming, shot out from her position, lifting her shotgun.

“No!” Charlie screamed. “Get back. Now.”

It was too late.

Maria stood in the street directly opposite the alien. Charlie could tell now with Maria as reference that the damned thing must be at least seven and a half feet tall. Its limbs were twice as thick and muscular as any soldier croatoan.

When the phasing stopped, it came into full focus. The black, form-fitting armor seemed to harden. Maria fired off two shots. The buckshot bounced off its armor.

It lifted the rifle-like weapon, its barrel square and at least a meter and a half long, and aimed it at Maria. Its long, talon-like fingers curled around a trigger.