"What?"

  "You want to test a new weapon out, why not do it out here where nobody in the cities has to see?"

  "What are you crazy? This is America."

  "And?"

  Martin realised he was dealing with someone with a hard line distrust of government, although he was starting to doubt it himself.

  A few days ago I wouldn't have taken someone like Miles seriously, and yet here I am, standing and fighting beside him. Maybe he has a point.

  "Whatever that was, it ain't nothing our forces have."

  "You've been out for how many years?"

  "You think I don't keep in touch with how things are."

  "No. Nobody comes to Wood Point because they want to stay in touch with the rest of the country. You were either born here, or you came here to get away from it all."

  He was taken aback; surprised the young man was so perceptive, especially considering his standpoint.

  "All right wise ass, what are they, and what are they doing here?"

  "You got me..."

  He winced in pain, trying to shift his bodyweight. Martin put his rifle down and knelt down beside him. Miles tried to push him away.

  "Hey, let me look at it."

  "Why?"

  "Because I don't want to have to carry you out of here."

  He looked confused.

  "Leave that much longer, and you're gonna have to be carried, or buried.

  Miles begrudgingly lowered his hands and let him check the wound. He'd still not removed the wood burrowed into his side, and blood was still seeping from it.

  "Christ, you know you can't leave it in there forever."

  "Don't you think I know that? Ever since I had to blow my bunker to hell I’ve been on the run, not exactly caught a break."

  Neither of them said another word as Martin went about patching him up.

  Chapter 3

  Emma sighed and paced back and forth at her bedroom window. She was fully dressed and ready for the day ahead. Looking at her clock, it was 4.30am. She groaned again. She wanted news, wanted to hear or do something. She was supposed to be going to school in a few hours, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She didn't know what she had seen out there the night Sam went missing, but she knew it wasn't normal. Something strange was going on, and it was terrifying. She didn't know who to turn to. She was still angry at her brother and the Sheriff for not taking her seriously. The only one that seemed to care was her teacher, but she’d not heard from him.

  She was biting her nails as she finally stopped and looked out of the window, as if expecting someone to pull onto the drive. The first rays of morning light were improving the visibility, and the rain was lighter. She was terrified to go out in the dark again, but a new day was a different story.

  "To hell with it."

  She rushed to her mom's bedroom, opened a cupboard door, and reached in for the Remington shotgun she knew was kept there. She slung it over her back, grabbed the two boxes of ammunition from the base of the cupboard, and ran for the car. She didn't really know what she was doing, but she couldn't sit around and do nothing anymore. She leapt into the car and put the gun on the backseat, but she then stopped.

  "What are you doing?"

  She looked at herself in the mirror. She was wide-awake, but looked pale and worn out. Yet the adrenaline flowing through her body was fuelling her. She knew something had happened to Sam, and nobody wanted to hear it. She peered over her shoulder at the shotgun she’d placed there. She knew she shouldn't be going anywhere, but when nobody else would do anything, she had to try. She pulled the shotgun through onto her lap and popped open a box of shells. She knew her mom would be furious.

  "If you were here you could have something to say, couldn't you?" Emma asked bitterly.

  She finished loading the weapon and started the car. She pulled off slowly, but as she shifted into drive and put down a little power, she spun the wheels on the wet road. The car revved up, and the rubber squealed.

  That had to wake the neighbours, but I don't care anymore. What are they gonna do about it?

  She headed out of town towards the place where she'd last seen Sam. She had no idea what she was doing, but it was better than nothing.

  * * *

  "This is probably the closest we're gonna get."

  Max pulled over at a closed off track. Ross was first out of the vehicle, but the others soon gathered round, even Donny, leaving his wounded comrade in the vehicle. Olsen was on his feet, too, but he looked weak. He'd thrown on new armour, but was wincing in pain as he tried to strap it up.

  "We're going cross country. We aren't taking anyone who can't handle it, you got that?"

  "I'll be fine," replied Olsen.

  "You aren't fine, so don't bullshit me. Neither is Pope in there. The two of you are staying put, and Shaw, you're keeping an eye on them, you hear?"

  "Jack?" Olsen asked.

  "No, that's final. Rest up and take it easy. And anyway, those two vehicles are our only wheels out of here right now, so you’d better guard them with your lives, you hear?"

  "You got it, Sergeant," Donny replied seriously.

  "It’s gonna be like a needle in a haystack. Finding a pilot, no tracks till we get near the DZ. Doesn't know anyone is coming for them either. So not gonna want to be found," said Ortiz.

  "It ain't gonna be easy, I’m not denying it. Let’s move out."

  He briefly checked his compass. It was the only useful tool he had to find the pilot. He headed for an opening in the foliage and rushed on at a brisk pace.

  "If the Air Force have sent interceptors out, at least they know what is going on, right?" Max asked.

  "So long as they came out here to fight, and didn't just get caught up in this by chance," replied Jack.

  That wasn't what he wanted to hear.

  "You know as well as I. F-35s out here at night, they're gonna be packing everything they can. Something lights them up and they're gonna give right on back," added Ross.

  "And report back what they saw, I'd hope."

  "You would hope, but if our comms are anything to go on, there’s not much chance of that, is there? Same with the Major, whatever is going on here we are dark to the world. We are on our own."

  "Then I sure hope this pilot has some answers for us. Christ, this is home, not the middle of the fucking Amazon."

  "I hear you."

  * * *

  "Hang on a second."

  Miles paused to take a breath. He grasped his flank where the pain was clearly causing him a lot of problems.

  "It's not far now," said Martin. He had his rifle in hand and was alert, studying the ground around them like a hawk.

  "I don't like this at all," he muttered to himself.

  I got out of the Corps so I didn't have to go through this again. At least then I had well-armed friends by my side. Now I have one injured kid, or that's the way I see him. I wonder if I’m being unfair. Either way, we’re two men against God knows what.

  "Come on. We have to keep moving."

  "Why, you in some rush to get somewhere?"

  "Yes, back to town."

  "Why?"

  "Because I want to know what the hell is going on, and if they don't know, they need some warning of what's out here."

  "Back to town? What the hell have they ever done for you?"

  "Quite a lot."

  "Really, a real community? That's why you're the only one out here looking for this football player? Where is the community spirit when the time comes? Nowhere. It's all a lie you tell each other. Happy smiles, while on the inside not giving a fuck."

  "Is that the way you see the world?"

  He shrugged.

  "Son, you got issues."

  They took a bend up ahead and stopped.

  "I'd say I'm not the only one."

  "No, what the hell?"

  Martin rushed down to his truck to find a gaping hole in the hood. Steam was arising as if something had burnt a hole right through it. He popped the hood and lifted it. The carb and much of the electrics were fried. Whatever had hit it had burnt a hole into the top of the block. He slammed it down and looked around as if expecting to find some evidence as to what or why it had been done.

  "What the hell did this?"

  Miles had no more of an idea that he did.

  "What the hell is going on out here?"

  "We're under attack. Can't you see that?"

  "Attack? Are you crazy?"

  "What else do you think this is?"

  "I don't know. Some military experiment gone wrong."

  "Bullshit. The Army would be all over this by now if that was the case."

  "Who the hell would attack Wood Point and the surrounding area? Seriously, who?"

  "How should I know?"

  "You’ve been prepping for this for years."

  "Yeah?"

  "So you must have predicted what threats were likely."

  "Yeah. Economic collapse of the nation, nuclear war, maybe invasion by the Chinese the way they have been going lately."

  "The Chinese?"

  "Come on. They've been pouring money into their military and tech for decades. Plus they’ve got the largest source of conscripts on Earth. Pair that with some of the Communist nations and you could have something powerful enough to overthrow anyone."

  "Communists? Can you hear yourself? Communism is dead."

  "Really? You really believe that?"

  "Yes. Unlike you, I was around when it all came crashing down."

  "Then you have been fooled. The USSR falls, and you think it's all over? Hell, nothing really changed."

  Martin sighed, rested back against the wing of his truck, and dropped his head into his hands.

  "What the hell am I doing? I'm out here with a nutcase. No wheels, and some killer robots. What did I ever do to deserve this?" He looked up as if asking God for an answer.

  "Nutcase? Nice. Yep, people been saying that for years. Thought I was crazy for living the way I did. They won't be laughing anymore. If those things get into town, it will be a blood bath."

  "Yeah? So what do you care?"

  "I always cared. I cared for surviving whatever was coming, the next disaster. But it's hard to be around people that think it's all a joke."

  "All right, I'm sorry."

  "Yeah, whatever, I hear it all the time."

  "I guess we're gonna be walking."

  "I guess so."

  * * *

  Ross and his team had been walking for quite some time without any clues as to where the downed pilot was. But he knew they were heading in the right direction. They were fanned out with five-metre spacing in the hope of finding something.

  "Whether we find this pilot or not, what then?"

  "I guess we'll figure that out, Max, once we get a better picture of whatever this shit storm is."

  "We should get out of this town. Get back to base. Or at least reach the Captain. Find out what the hell is going on, and where we need to be."

  "I'd say we're right where we need to be, wouldn't you?"

  "No. We don't know anything about the enemy, where they are, or in what number. Who or even what they are. Doesn't this whole thing seem a little crazy to you?"

  "Sure, because it is."

  "And?"

  "And what, what else do you expect me to say? That we are under attack by something that appears to have come from another world. That we might be under attack by an alien race, is that what you want me to say?"

  Max shrugged.

  "You think that's the answer to it?"

  "It makes about as much sense as any other right now. That is, fuck all sense. A few days ago life goes on the same as it always has, and now this?"

  "You sure this isn't some elaborate training exercise?"

  "It would have to be pretty fucking elaborate."

  "Stage a small town incident, it's doable. Put the teams through something new and different. See how we react."

  "No way. Not a chance in hell. Whatever is out there it is trying to kill us, and it has come pretty close. Those lads’ team weren't acting, were they?"

  "I mean we checked the bodies, but..."

  "But nothing. This ain't no exercise. You're trying to find answers because there isn't any logical one."

  "So aliens? That's what you got?"

  "I didn't say that."

  "But you thought it?"

  "Until we have a better picture of what is happening here, I'm willing to entertain any theories. Not like anyone is coming up with anything useful."

  "I’ve got something over here!" Ortiz yelled excitedly.

  Ross glowered at him.

  "Announce yourself to the whole valley, why don't you?"

  Max was shaking his head, too.

  "What?" Ortiz asked as they drew closer.

  "You wanted in with the best, but you still act like a kid."

  "Don't fight like one though, do I?" he replied with a grin.

  Max wasn't impressed, but Ross butted in before he could scold the younger man.

  "Enough," he growled.

  Ortiz had found the lines of a parachute. Ross lifted his rifle as he followed the trail, not knowing what he would find. There had been too many surprises in this operation already. The parachute lines vanished inside a pile of foliage. He pulled some of it aside to find the ejector seat. It was empty, and that gave him some hope.

  "All right, the pilot made it safely to the ground. He can't have got far."

  Dunn was already kneeling beside a set of tracks.

  "Follow it. Go," ordered Ross.

  They quickly followed the trail for a few hundred metres and came to an opening at a river. The tracks vanished into the water.

  "Smart," said Ramos.

  Dunn was already pointing further up the river where they could see the pilot. He had his back to them as he knelt down beside the river, washing his face in the fresh water.

  "All right, slow and easy. We don't want to spook him."

  "What? We're the good guys."

  "After all the shit we've seen the past day, Ortiz, I don't know what to think, and I bet that pilot has seen just as much crap," replied Ramos.

  Ross led the way. He stayed into the cover of the woods as they closed the distance. The fast flow of the river was masking the sound of their movement perfectly. As they closed, the pilot sat back in a kneeling position, looking up at the sky as if expecting some kind of help to arrive. Ross signalled for the rest of them to stay in the treeline while he went forward. He got within five metres of the pilot when he stepped on a dry twig, and it snapped beneath his feet. The pilot spun around and was on his feet, pistol aimed at Ross in no time at all. Only it wasn't a man, but a dark-haired woman in her thirties with her hair tied back. She looked terrified. Her hands were shaking, and she was breathing heavily. He kept his weapon lowered.

  "Don't move!"

  "Master Sergeant Jack Ross. We’re here to help, Ma'am."

  She looked past to his team that were still partially concealed in the treeline. She then looked to his uniform with suspicion.

  "Army? You don't look it," she snapped.

  "We're out of Fort Campbell. We were sent here looking for Major Boyd and a platoon he brought out here on exercise."

  "Who sent you?"

  "Our CO, Captain Rains."

  She took a deep breath as if some of that resonated with her, and slowly lowered her pistol.

  "You're a black ops outfit?"

  "Something like that. Look. We saw you in combat last night. Hell of a manoeuvre you pulled up there."

  "Yeah? Well it wasn't enough, was it?"

  "And your wingman."

  "Did he bail out as well?"

  She had clearly not see what happened after he was hit.

  Ross shook his head.

  "I'm sorry."

  "You're sure?"

  "Yes."

  She dropped her head in sadness, holding back the tears as she wiped her brow.

  "What the hell is going on around here?"

  Her voice was a little shaky. The rest of Ross' team were reaching them now.

  "We were kinda hoping you had some answers on that front."

  "Answers? For this?"

  "Things have been getting a little crazy around here. We sort of hoped you'd have the low down," replied Ortiz.

  "We were scrambled after an unidentified craft was spotted about fifty klicks South East of here. We were notified that this was not a drill, but it could have been anything. En route we found and engaged a target. But...it was..."

  "Like nothing you've ever seen before?" Ortiz asked.

  "Yes."

  "Welcome to the party."

  Ross sighed. He’d hoped this was going to provide the answers to at least some of the questions they had, but he was glad to find a survivor.

  "Jack," he said, holding out his hand.

  "Major Kelly," she replied as she took it, "Kim," she added.

  "My comms were lost as we engaged our target. I guess you found my beacon."

  "We found you with our eyes and a compass."

  "So no signal was getting out?"

  He shook his head.

  "So...no one was coming for me?"

  "It's lucky we spotted you when we did."

  "Not sure luck is the word I'd use," replied Ortiz.

  She looked confused.

  "Trouble seems to have a habit of following us right now."

  * * *

  Emma had been searching for hours, and the sun was well up in the sky. She looked at her watch and realised she was already late for school.

  "Shit," she muttered to herself.

  She heard a rumbling in the sky and saw eight aircraft flying in formation high in the clouds. They were only partially visible. She lifted her hand to cup over her eyes for a better view, but her face turned to a look of horror as she got a better look. They were like nothing she had ever seen. They had no wings and yet a bulbous fuselage. They looked like something that would be more at home in the ocean than in the skies.

  "What the hell?"

  She had no idea what she was looking at, but whatever it was, they were heading towards town. Back towards Wood Point. She rushed back to the car and reached it as another wave of craft passed overhead. They were identical to the last. She threw her shotgun inside and jumped in. She slammed the door and tore off back towards town. She kept looking at the mysterious ships she was pursuing.

 

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