Critical Dawn (23 page)

Two more figures stepped out of the gloom: a man with a shotgun and a woman with a large, rusty knife. As Layla’s eyes became accustomed to the light, she could see they’d been using this place as a home.

A camping stove sat in the corner of the filthy, dank room. Next to it, a jumble of metal pans and plates. Supplies were moderately stacked against the wall. Some old cans, probably out of date; pitiful-looking vegetables, even more so than hers; and several large bottles of cloudy water. Clothing hung on a line near the ceiling. A drip of water fell from a frayed pair of cargo pants.

Croatoan bikes distantly hummed outside.

“They’re landing,” a voice called from above.

“Who are you? Why did you come here?” the man in the hunting jacket said.

Layla touched Gregor’s arm. She said, “We’re running from the creatures outside. These two were attacked this morning in the forest and killed three aliens.”

“Seems a bit strange,” the woman said. “They don’t usually go after survivors. You’re from that farm, aren’t you?”

“Fuck this,” Gregor said. “Do you want to stand around here chatting while they come in and blow our brains out? If your man upstairs can see them, let me join him. Give me a clear shot.”

He held his rifle forward.

“Listen to his accent. He’s from the farm,” the woman said.

The man with the crossbow edged back, lowering it. “He’s right though. We’ll deal with this first. Then we talk. Are you armed?”

Before Layla could answer, Gregor said, “Yes. They’re coming upstairs with me.”

“This is the only way in,” the man with the shotgun said. “It’s a side building. Only one entrance to protect.”

Gregor grunted. He grabbed Ben and pushed him forward.

As much as she’d thought he was a cold bastard throughout the years, Layla couldn’t help admiring Gregor’s leadership qualities when the shit hit the fan. He was decisive and made decisions based on what was best for the team rather than himself.

For the first time since she could remember, she felt part of something. Gregor risked himself to come back and save her. And now he didn’t want to leave her downstairs with strangers.

Layla felt integrated like never before, following Gregor as he thumped up the dusty, concrete staircase in his heavy boots.

Upstairs, a man crouched on the right hand side of the room, holding a pistol. He peered through a sliding hatch the size of a small pizza box created halfway up a boarded window. He squinted against the sunlight streaming through the gap, lighting up his face.

“I saw you arrive,” he said. “Where did you learn to ride those things?”

“I used to work in a harvest—” Ben said.

“Shut up, Ben,” Gregor said. He joined the man by the hatch. “Can you see the aliens?”

“They’ve landed and taken to the trees. Must be planning something.”

“Let me look,” Gregor said and stooped down.

The room above was the same size as the one below, about thirty square feet. Its three windows were covered by wooden boards, painted black. Light streamed in through cracks around the edges. Four single mattresses were spaced around, blankets scruffily drawn over each one.

The floor was spattered with various-colored dry blobs of candle wax. It reminded Layla of a Jackson Pollock painting she’d seen at the Guggenheim Museum in New York. A can of Spam held more value in today’s world.

“Use the other window,” the man said, nodding to his left.

Layla gripped the edge of the other hatch and eased it open along its squeaking rails. A ray of sunlight burst through the gap.

Across the grassy area seventy yards away, three hover-bikes sat by the edge of the forest. She briefly saw the edge of a croatoan behind a tree before it quickly vanished.

Gregor nudged her out of the way. He dropped to one knee and aimed his rifle. “Get behind me. If I’m hit, take the rifle and carry on the fight.”

Layla stood to one side. Ben peered over the man’s shoulder, revolver in his right hand.

“What are the aliens packing?” the man said.

“Similar to our conventional weapons. Guns, grenades, that sort of the stuff,” Gregor said.

“No cannons or those guns that flatten small houses?”

“Those soldiers aren’t around here,” Layla said.

“Are you sure?” the man said. “I saw one of their fighters yesterday. First time in years. If the aliens get in touch with that thing …”

“If it was coming for us, we’d know about it,” Gregor said.

Layla wasn’t so sure. If the hunter was under Augustus’s command, he could give it a new mission. There was nothing stopping the croatoans outside from identifying their location.

Gregor’s grip tensed around his rifle. Layla looked over his shoulder.

An alien scuttled from behind a tree toward the hover-bike she’d previously parked. It stopped a few yards short, took a silver ball from its belt, and threw it.

Gregor fired.

The croatoan clutched its torso and slouched to one side. Its grenade exploded with a hollow pop, creating a cloud of white smoke.

Gregor aimed at the shroud as it slowly cleared, drifting away on the gentle breeze. The blast shunted the bike onto its side. The alien lay flat on its back, helmet blown clear by the force of the explosion.

“Nice shot. One down,” Layla said.

She’d never expected to hear herself utter those words.

“Two to go. And I can’t see them,” Gregor said. “Anyone else?”

A loud thud shook the building. Layla instinctively ducked. Flecks of paint dropped from the ceiling.

“What the hell was that?” Ben said.

“Sounds like they’re next door,” the man said.

“Joe. Get down here,” a voice called up the stairs.

“Sorry guys. They want me downstairs,” the man said.

He shrugged and hurried away.

“We could make a run for the bikes,” Ben said.

“It’d be a turkey shoot,” Gregor said. “We stay. Our hosts have offered to be the first line of defense.”

The building shuddered again after another internal boom. Layla pressed herself against the wall. “What if the croatoans kill them? Use grenades in here?

Gregor rubbed his chin and looked around the room. “Stack the mattresses in the corner. Do it.”

Layla grabbed the edge of the closest and dragged it to the end of the room. Its filthy gray blanket slithered off. She kicked it away.

Ben had already placed one in the corner at an angle. Layla stacked hers against it. He slid a third mattress across the floor and said, “This won’t protect us. You saw what—”

“Do you have any better suggestions?” Gregor said.

After Layla completed the barricade, she returned to the gap in the left window. Ben paced around the room, mumbling to himself.

The three hover-bikes still sat in position by the trees. Another cut through the sky, it must’ve been the fourth one, circling their position.

Something moved outside, close to the building. Flicking in and out of Layla’s line of vision.

She sprang on her toes, tried to get a better angle. The position of the hatch wouldn’t allow it. “I think they’re outside the door.”

A shotgun blast and two pistol cracks came from directly below.

Croatoan weapons started snapping.

“Fuck this,” Gregor said. He slammed his shoulder against the boarded-up window. It crunched into the plywood, splitting it horizontally across the middle. Gregor kicked the bottom section away and leaned his rifle out.

Ben jumped behind the barricade, holding his revolver over the top of the mattresses.

An alien grenade exploded. Gregor flew back, skidding on his backside, clutching one side of his face. Smoke coiled through the window.

Screams of pain came up the stairs, punctuated by the firing of croatoan weapons until both abruptly stopped.

Layla ran over to the makeshift barricade and slid behind it, next to Ben.

Gregor moved to the side of the stairway entrance and crouched with his rifle shouldered.

He put his finger to his lips. The slap of boots on concrete started to echo up the stairs. Gregor nodded with every slow, deliberate step as if mentally counting. Blood trickled down the side of his face.

Ben’s hands shook as he held the pistol forward.

A croatoan boot appeared through the entrance.

Gregor dropped to his back and fired five times. He rolled away and covered his ears. Layla ducked behind the mattress. She grabbed Ben’s shoulder and pulled him down.

The building vibrated after a thumping boom. Smoke gushed into the room, leaving a sour taste at the back of Layla’s throat.

Silence followed.

She climbed over the barricade and approached Gregor. He sat up and dusted himself down. Layla went to touch his wound. He jerked his head away.

“Are you okay?” Layla said.

“Fine. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“What happened?” Ben said. “Did you get them?”

“Shot them both. The front one had a grenade ready to go.”

Layla squinted. The smoke stung her eyes. She pulled her sweater over her nose and mouth and followed Gregor downstairs.

Near the bottom, she stepped over the twisted figures of two dead croatoans into a room bathed in light. The entrance door had been blown off its hinges. A body lay underneath.

Gregor grasped Layla by the shoulder. “Don’t look to your left. You don’t need to see this.”

She focused outside. Gregor pointed his rifle upwards and dashed out, turning amongst the weeds, looking up through his sights. Ben joined him and searched the sky.

Layla tentatively joined them. There was no sign of the previously circling croatoan. She approached the alien by the overturned bike. Its weapon lay a few feet away in the knee-length grass.

She picked it up, pointed it toward the forest, and pulled the trigger. It easily depressed like she was squeezing a tube of toothpaste. The alien rifle kicked against her chest as a projectile whistled out and thumped against a tree.

Gregor ducked. “Be careful with that.”

“I’m not going through another situation unarmed,” Layla said.

He appreciatively grunted and started heading for the forest.

“Where are we going?” Ben said.

“Away from here. Who knows what might turn up next? I’m not waiting to find out,” Gregor said.

“We could take the hover-bikes,” Ben said, gesturing to the three parked by the forest’s edge.

Gregor spun and grabbed Ben by the scruff of his neck. “Do you want to end up like Marek? Do you?”

He pushed Ben away. Ben stumbled after him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … I just …”

For the next hour, they picked their way through dense, slimy undergrowth. Gregor probably chose the route to provide cover. Layla breathed hard, swiping away branches and kicking away weeds that knotted around her feet.

They eventually hit a former road. Gregor leaned against a rusting SUV and wiped sweat from his brow. He gazed into the distant sky at the thin outline of the mother ship. This was probably the first time he had to stop and think about Marek. Layla decided to leave him to his own thoughts.

She shuddered at the thought of a new alien hulk in the sky. An instrument of death that would shortly bring about their demise. They had to do something.

Ben stretched out on a rock twenty yards away. Layla went over to him. “Are you okay?”

“A few scratches, nothing major.”

“Do you have any idea where Jackson went? Think. We need to put our differences aside. Fight this thing together.”

He shrugged. “Charlie and Gregor? You’re joking, right?”

“I’m being serious. Unless we come up with something soon, well, you know what’ll happen.” Ben flashed a glance at Gregor, who still stared into the clear blue sky. He sheepishly looked back at Layla. She lowered her voice, “If you know something, now is the time to say.”

“Charlie’s got a plan. I don’t know what exactly, but he’s been working on it for some time. I know where he’ll be,” Ben trailed off.

She resisted the strong urge to punch him in the face. “I swear, if you don’t start talking—”

Ben failed to spot Gregor moving around behind him. He wrapped his arm under Ben’s chin and squeezed tightly.

“I’m giving you a minute before I snap your neck,” Gregor said.

Ben’s face reddened. He gasped. “I’ll tell you. Please. Let go.”

Gregor loosened his grip and grabbed the back of Ben’s hair. Layla leaned toward him. “This is no time for games. Where will he be?”

“Ridgway. The clock tower. Noon tomorrow. I’m supposed to meet him. Give him information about the shuttle runs.”

“Did he say why?” Layla said.

“That’s all I know. I wasn’t going to meet him. I’m with you guys. Honestly.”

Gregor released his hold and slapped the palm of his hand against the side of Ben’s head. “You treacherous little shit.”

“What are you going to do?” Layla asked Gregor.

He threw Ben to one side. “What do you think I’m going to do? Tomorrow, I’ll be in Ridgway, waiting for Jackson to show his face.”

Charlie wiped the debris from his face. His ears were still ringing from the grenade explosion. Using the cloud of smoke and concrete to hide their position, they’d managed to outmaneuver the hunter, using Charlie’s knowledge of the alleys and side streets to get some distance and return to Quaternary HQ.

“What about Denver?” Maria asked as they cleared the sheet metal out of the way and headed into the basement.

“He’ll be okay.” Charlie locked the door behind him and took a breath. Even though the root kept him fit and strong, his age meant that he still felt the fatigue once the adrenaline and the root’s effect wore off. “Come on, we need to go up a few levels.”

Before they entered the basement area, Charlie stopped at a small room previously used by janitors. Mike had converted it to a gun rack. Charlie took a Barrett .50 caliber rifle. If anything would stop that damned croatoan bastard, it’d be that.

Taking the stairs two at a time and wincing with the effort, Charlie led Maria into the third floor, where his old office used to be. His, Mike’s, and of course Pippa’s. It was like a mausoleum.

Desks and computers were still in the same place since the day he’d left it. Papers and books littered the floor, disturbed by the vibrations of war. He made to reach up to the bead necklace and remembered he’d given it to Ben.

It didn’t matter. Pippa’s face was still clear in his mind. She smiled at him with that quirky look of hers. He pictured her bouncing into the office, dirt smudged on her face as she excitedly talked about their next project or some surprising find.

“Are you okay?” Maria said, touching his arm.

“What? Yes, sorry, I just … It doesn’t matter. Okay, stand back from the window, but from somewhere you can use this to spot for me.” He handed her the monocular sight.

“What is it you want me to do exactly?” Maria asked.

Charlie opened the boarded-up window and balanced the Barrett’s barrel across the sill. He rested the rest of the gun on the edge of a desk that he pulled closer.

“That bastard alien is going to have to approach from that street down there. Everywhere else is too dilapidated. It’ll know we had to come this way too. I want you to be a second of pair of eyes to help me focus on it.”

“Okay,” Maria said, pulling a wheeled office chair closer so that she could rest and still get a good view out of the window.

Charlie got himself comfortable, brought the scope to his eye, and checked his distances. All seemed good. He just had to wait. Even if the hunter came at them from the shadows, there was still a ten-foot section of open space it’d have to cross. Hopefully, they’d spot it before it got to that section and gave him time to aim.

They sat in silence for five minutes. Sweat beaded on Charlie’s forehead. He knew Denver would have the part by now and be on his way back. As though he had conjured him with his very mind, Maria excitedly said, “Den’s there, look.”

With an alien weapon in his hands, he came out of a side street, looking to either side, always on alert. “You keep watching him,” Charlie said, not loving this at all.

His fears were born of good instinct. As Denver stepped further out into the open, forty feet behind him the shadows shifted, and the hunter slid out of his position. The bastard was probably there the whole time. Charlie couldn’t quite get a good aim on him. A fallen wall obscured his vision, but he could see the shadows moving now that the noon sun had dipped lower to the west, lengthening the shadows across the sidewalk.

“Oh God, he’s going to see him,” Maria said, tracking Denver’s movements.

“Just wait,” Charlie said.

“We have to warn him.” She placed the monocular down on the desk and approached the window. Charlie pushed her out of the way and took the Barrett to the next window across to get a better angle. That did the trick. He could see the hunter edge out from behind a half-yard-thick fallen wall.

Maria moaned as she got to her feet. “What the hell do you think you’re—”

“Shut up,” Charlie said, glaring at her. She took a step back but kept her eyes on Denver as he came further down the street.

On its knees, the alien raised the rifle and brought its scope to its eye. The glow of the screen illuminated its transparent visor, revealing the tough, leathery skin of its face and a glowing amber eye. This was definitely not a run-of-the-mill croatoan. But even with its fancy tech, Charlie doubted it could withstand a .50 cal round.

“Denver, run!” Maria said from the window, shouting at the top of her voice. Den looked up then behind him and dashed to the side. Charlie was about to yell at her, but when he looked back, the alien had come further out of the shadows. It had heard Maria. It pointed the rifle up at Charlie. They locked eyes, and Charlie pulled the trigger before launching himself to the side.

Both rifles exploded. The alien’s shot rocked the walls of the Quaternary building. A chunk of masonry flew away from the window frame, narrowly missing Charlie’s face.

“You’ve hit him,” Maria said, now standing further back but still watching through the monocular sight.

Charlie took a risk and lifted his rifle to peer through the scope. He saw the hunter crawl away, clutching its right leg. He was surprised that the leg wasn’t severed, but the alien armor was damaged, and its suit took on a lighter color. Yellow blood stained the ground.

“It’s wounded,” Charlie said. “But I don’t know how long we’ll have. We need to leave. Now.”

He grabbed the rifle and Maria’s arm and headed back down the stairs.

Mike and Mai pulled Denver into the basement and locked the door behind him. They all rushed into the workshop area. Breathless, with sweat pouring from him, Denver shrugged off his backpack. They all looked at him expectantly.

“Well?” Charlie said, “Did you get it?”

“What do you think, old man?” Den said between panted breaths. Pip joined him by his side. He knelt down and made a fuss of the dog. “I ain’t just a pretty face, am I, girl?”

“No,” Maria said, before realizing he was talking to the dog. She turned away to hide her embarrassment.

“Oh,” Mai said, lifting out a disc-shaped object from Den’s pack. “What’s this? Looks alien, of course.”

“Bomb,” Denver said. “I used it to take out the anti-grav engine of that bastard’s ship. You just press …” Denver reached out and grabbed Mai’s wrist to stop her from touching the small screen. “Jesus, Mai. That’s what activates it.”

Mike lifted the second one. “I’ll have to make some safeties for you. Wouldn’t want it going off by mistake. But as nice as these are, what about the magnet?”

Denver fished out a box with a Ford label stamped on it and handed it over. “These?”

“Holy crap, Den, there’s half a dozen here.”

“I think there might be more there,” Den said. “I saw boxes everywhere and grabbed the first one I saw. I wanted to get back before … Well, before we all got killed by that thing out there.”

“What is it?” Mai asked. “A soldier?”

“Worse,” Charlie said. “I don’t know what it is. One of the croatoans’ experiments perhaps, some other alien imported from God knows where. But it took a .50 cal to the leg and was still alive, still moving. We’ve got to clear out right now before the bastard tracks the way in.”

“On it,” Mike said, heading to one of his over-filled desks. Mai joined him. Together, they opened the case of the bomb and started to install the part.

Maria sat down on a plastic chair and wiped tears from her eyes. “I can’t believe what happened to Ethan. One minute he was right there by me, the next …”

Denver knelt down by her, held her hands within his. “I know it’s hard,” he said. “It’s a shock. It’s difficult and brutal, and it hurts. But right now, we have to remember him and everyone else that died at the aliens’ hands. We have to remember them and go on because what we intend to do will honor them. We can’t lose focus on that. We can grieve later. Take the pain, but don’t let it consume you, okay? You’re with us; you’re one of us. We’ll stick together.”

Maria looked down at Denver, her face blemished with dirt, the tears tracking the stains down her cheeks. “You were so brave,” she said, “to go off like that. How can I be that brave? I’m so scared. It feels like danger waits in every shadow. I’m not sure I can go on.”

“It’s understandable,” Denver said. “This is all new to you, but believe me, as dangerous as this seems, it’s like a vacation to how it was. We have to put all this into perspective and carry on. If not, then what else is there?”

“Waiting to die,” Maria said.

“And I’m not one for waiting,” Denver said, flashing her a smile. “So what say you come with us and let be what will be? Let’s do this, bring down that mother ship, strike back at these bastards, and show them that they’ve underestimated us.”

Maria wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. “I guess we have no real option. Count me in.”

She stood and hugged Denver.

Charlie smiled and turned away to prepare their exit. On the other side of the basement was a fire exit that led across the street. Mike and a few others who had sadly passed on had dug a tunnel further through until they came out into the subway system. Although flooded, the water level wasn’t so high that they couldn’t get an inflatable raft in there.

In emergencies, they’d used it a few times before. If they followed the right route, they could get through enough of the train system to get clear of Manhattan. They kept a smaller raft stored in the basement. The other dinghy was too large.

Now their load was lighter, they could squeeze onto the raft and get out. It’d be tight, but it was better than risking going over ground. All the shooting would have stirred up other survivors lurking in the city.

“Hey, Chuck, it’s ready,” Mike said, calling out from the other end of the tunnel.

Charlie walked back to find them standing around the device. Mai had a satisfied look on her face. “Your boy done good,” she said, winking at Denver. “It works perfectly. But here’s the thing. You’ll have one shot at this. Once activated by using the touchscreen here, there’s no going back. If it malfunctions for whatever reason, the regulating magnet will be fried, and no offense, you won’t have the expertise to wire in another in time and figure out what’s wrong.”

“Understood,” Charlie said.

Denver’s forehead wrinkled. “It doesn’t sound very … solid. I mean, it’s a huge risk going up there. If it doesn’t go off, it’ll be for nothing.”

“That’s my worry, son. We’ve talked about this already. It’s my time. I’m going up there. I trust that it’ll work. You’ll just have to trust me.”

“Wait,” Maria said. “So what you’re saying is this is a complete suicide mission? There’s absolutely no way you’re coming back if it works or not?”

“We all have to make a sacrifice,” Charlie said, “and this is mine. Okay, that’s enough of the philosophy. Let’s have less chat and more action. Mike, prep the bomb and make it safe for travel. We’ve got to go. I suggest you get Mai out of here too.”

“Will do, Chuck,” Mike said. “And don’t worry about us. We’ve got transport waiting for us.”

Mike placed the bomb inside a plastic flight case and made sure it was clipped tightly shut. He handed it to Charlie with his left hand and extended his right. Charlie took it and shook it firmly. “I’ll miss you, you crazy old bastard,” Charlie said, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

“And you too, you reckless fool. One of these days, you’ll get yourself killed.”

“One of these days. But not today.”