The Invasion Trilogy (Book 2): The Shadows Read online

  The Shadows

  W. J. Lundy

  The Shadows

  © 2015 W. J. Lundy

  V11.3.15

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  Cover design by Eloise Knapp Design.

  Formatting by Polgarus Studio.

  PROLOGUE

  The Michigan coniferous forest was cold and damp. Snow covered the ground, blanketed by a low rolling fog. Above him, the dense pine trees blocked out the light of early dawn. He could hear their screams and moans in the distance. They were searching for their prey, and they would not stop until they found them.

  Jacob lay pressed into a rotting log; fallen years ago, the backside was covered with moss and ice. He couldn’t see the rest of his team, but he knew they were close, dressed in heavy clothing and covered in white to keep them hidden in the terrain. He lifted up on his elbows and pulled himself forward so he could peek over the log.

  He spotted them walking in a long column, at least fifty, but by the sounds of the footfalls, there could be many more—a long winding path stretching through the mist and disappearing into the shadows of the pines. The creatures were dressed in civilian and military clothing of all makes. They carried themselves well; now fully evolved, they were lacking only the essence of humanoid distinction from being a comparison to their former selves. Burdened with rifles and equipment, these were no longer the mindless creatures Jacob faced months ago.

  Jacob flexed and used his boot to nudge the man beside him. Jesse Winslow, a former auto worker from Detroit, strong and capable, now a private in this new global army. Jacob listened to the sound of Jesse crunching forward then stooping over the log next to him. He knew the man would be readying his M202 FLASH; the multi-shot incendiary rocket launcher—a flamethrower on steroids. With an audible hiss, Jesse let the rest of the team know he was ready.

  Jacob pulled his rifle into the pocket of his shoulder and pointed it at a tall creature carrying a heavy machine gun. Aiming just in front of the thing at shoulder height, he held his breath and waited. Four successive explosions propelled the sixty-millimeter rockets forward. Boom, boom, boom, boom… gray smoke twisted ahead, straight down the firing line they’d cleared a day earlier.

  Jacob pulled the trigger then watched the targeted machine gunner take a hit and fall just as the white-hot shards of flaming explosive filled the trail. The forest boomed and flashed with smoke and fire. A man to his right bled a long burst of heavy machine gun rounds into the enemy column, sweeping left and right; the M240 Gulf led the symphony of small arms, unleashing a successful ambush on the trail. Scanning up and down the trail for anything still able to shoot back, Jacob searched for targets in the scope of his rifle, and took quick shots at anything not already down.

  A whistle blast silenced his team’s weapons. The men swapped out magazines and pressed their bodies into the earth, waiting and listening. The screaming started on the trail just as it always did. The Darkness was predictable, their movement always the same. They would make contact and attack. Sometimes it was by ambush, other times The Darkness had the advantage. But the reaction was always the same; while the head of the snake was being destroyed, the body would retract and then suddenly lunge at the attackers. It usually worked. Only now, Jacob’s group was ready and anticipating the follow-up strike.

  Jacob listened to the screaming of “The Others” deep in the smoke-covered trail, amidst the crushing and breaking of branches as the mass gathered before their front lines. Jacob’s leader blew the whistle again. It made The Darkness focus on their direction, allowing them to accurately steer them to their fronts. Jacob could hear their bodies pressing together to form up , the clanging of their weapons, and the united breathing and beating of their feet on the trail as they coiled tightly for the attack.

  Then it happened… the roars—roars always preceded the counterattack. The Darkness charged forward en masse, supported by their own riflemen on the flanks. Unable to pinpoint Jacob’s men dug into the snow-covered ground, the enemy rounds went wild. The Darkness charged forward at a sprint. Hundreds of them; a horde of screaming, rage-filled faces armed with whatever they could carry. Jacob kept the tip of his trembling finger on the trigger but held his fire.

  “Cover!” his leader screamed.

  Jacob buried his face into the soil berm to his front, pulling up his gloved hands to cover his ears a moment before the forest exploded and the ground beneath him protested and shuddered. He was levitated from the earth and then slammed back into it as a shockwave ripped through the ground. He felt clods of mud and ice fall from the sky onto his back. Branches cracked and popped in the distance, remnants of the trees now fully engulfed in flame.

  Jacob lifted his head and looked to the front. The once thick, pristine forest was now void of life, everything decimated by the blast zone. The rows of buried 250-pound bombs did their job; the column was destroyed.

  Jacob picked up his leader’s orders from a hidden position. “Anderson, Winslow. Scouts out.”

  Jacob nodded even though he knew the gesture would be unseen. He pushed himself up with his hands to a kneeling position and raised his rifle, covering his front as Winslow pulled up beside him. Jacob twisted his rifle on its sling and let it hang across his back as he readied a short-barreled, pistol version of an AK47. Jacob took a lunging step forward, moving ahead with Winslow in tow.

  Crouching stealthily, he moved into the kill zone where the stench of burning flesh and cordite mixed with the strong essence of pine and earth. Jacob moved between twisted trees and broken bodies, searching for threats. He spotted a tall, stretched out creature wearing a chest rig; a separated arm clutched an SKS rifle. Jacob knelt beside the man and stripped his chest of magazines, placing them in a drop pouch on his own belt. He searched the man’s shirt pockets, finding nothing.

  Jacob dumped the man’s pants pockets, finding remnants of its previous life: a battered wallet, some folded currency, a set of car keys. Winslow stepped forward and knelt beside him.

  The Darkness didn’t communicate with written word, or even spoken that they could see; it was through touch and other non-verbal means. A faint wisp of movement pulled Jacob’s eyes back to the front as a mangled figure scrambled to its feet and stumbled forward. It gripped a rusty machete tightly in its one good arm, while its other arm and part of its torso were missing. Black blood oozed from its wounds, and charcoal-colored foam dripped from its broken jaw as it limped toward them.

  Jesse rose to his feet and stepped forward, leveling his rifle. “Just die already,” he whispered. One pull of the trigger, and a round tore through the thing’s chest, ending it.

  The forest came alive all around them. Jacob raised his head. “No… this is all wrong… Why won’t they all just die?.”

  Chapter 1

  Global Joint Base Meaford

  Day of the Darkness Plus 90

  The gas furnace roared to life, the blower whining as it forced warm air through the ducts running along the ceiling of the old wooden barracks. Heavy beams and thick wooden walls reminiscent of Bavarian craftsmanship, the buildings were rumored to have been constructed by German prisoners at the end of World War II. Solid and well-built, they stood the test of time by housing training armies for generations.

  Jacob lay motionless, listening to the sounds
of men snoring over the rumble of the furnace blowers. Light spilled into the open bay barracks from a row of windows high on the wall. He stared at the bottom of the bunk above him, where he’d tucked a small wallet photo into the mattress springs. Laura and Katy in happier times, sitting on a beach near Chicago, Lake Michigan glistening in the sun behind them. He knew they were safe on the other side of the camp. He knew to keep them there that he would have to persevere. He was a soldier whether he like it or not.

  South America went dark soon after the first attacks; no word from anyone south of Mexico City by the second week. The Darkness thrived once it was introduced into the damp, warm climates. They grew the fastest in the jungles of Honduras and Nicaragua, spreading through the rivers and wetlands. Once stabled and the countries decimated, the creatures turned and charged north with little resistance. Unable to contain the advance, many of the border states became victim of carpet-bombing by both the US and Mexican Governments. Jacob heard the rumors of nuclear strikes around the globe. At first, they were whispered as being used to end the crisis, but after the bombs fell with poor results, the talk of their use was hushed.

  Jacob’s family was spared the worst, finding sanctuary in a small military base north-west of Detroit just over the northern border in the safe zone. Safely across the border, they were hinged on the front lines of the conflict. But Jacob’s sanctuary came with a price; nobody got a free ride. Laura would soon be assigned work supporting the camp, and Jacob would be tasked to augment the defense forces.

  He thought he’d seen enough already in the war to know what to expect from his training. Jacob volunteered for service and as soon as his wounds healed, he was placed into the next training cycle. An Army recruiting sergeant in dress uniform stopped by his small housing unit to help with the paperwork—a two-page contract and a small government agreement stating that his family would be allowed to stay on the camp in exchange for his service.

  The second form was a sort of insurance policy. Laura and Katy would be allowed six months free time on the camp in the event of his death; after that, there were no guarantees but they could stay on a “space available” basis. If he failed training or quit, they would be expected to report to the refugee camps immediately.

  There were no negotiations, no concessions. The lines to join the military stretched from the main base’s gate and into the refugee camps. Training slots were scarce and Jacob had only managed to get in based on the help of his friend Stephens. Even though he didn’t see him often, the soldier made his presence known to Jacob and his family in other ways; sending care packages and additional rations when he could. Sometimes it was just a friendly note, or reassurances on the progress of the fighting outside the gates.

  After Stephens’s wound healed, he fought to be sent back to the front; he was immediately refitted and assigned a new unit. As was common now, Stephens was quickly advanced from corporal to staff sergeant. Most of the trained standing army was gone, with experienced leaders hard to find. Anyone with prior—or especially active—military experience was assigned to units. Veteran soldiers were placed in leadership positions over men as fast as units could be formed with fresh recruits. Stephens was no exception. Jacob knew the man was out making runs and doing patrols deep into the danger zones, risking his life for the rest of them.

  With Stephens’ word and the noted performance at the Battle of Museum Park, Jacob was given priority placement for a training date. That date approached faster than expected. Even with stalling from the doctors and pleading from Laura asking them for more time, Jacob was soon cleared and determined fit for duty.

  During the recruiting process, Jacob pressed his education and work experience; he requested engineer or even officer training, but the recruiting sergeant’s grin said otherwise as he scribbled Jacob’s name on the top of a clipboard. The Army had engineers; what they needed were shooters, or bullet catchers as the recruiter described it. Jacob was given a slip of paper and a date to report… that date was yesterday.

  He said his goodbyes to his family at the provost marshal’s office near the center of camp. There were several families there and other men who Jacob didn’t recognize. Some were younger than him, but many were far older and reporting directly from the refugee camps. He held Laura, speaking softly to her. They made promises to each other: him to return and her to wait for him. She promised to take care of Katy while he was away. His daughter didn’t seem to understand; she held his hand and hugged him good-bye, expecting to see him later that night at dinner.

  Before he was ready, men in uniforms entered the building and ushered them all into the back of an already full truck. Jacob and the other recruits were driven to a remote location where several old buildings were grouped together and surrounded by chain link fence and tall poles with mounted spotlights. It looked more like a prison than a training camp.

  The recruits were quickly removed from the trucks and stripped of all belongings outside of personal photos, a single religious item, and an identification card. They were then issued two olive drab uniforms, a pair of boots, and a set of shorts and T-shirts. The recruits were forcefully clustered together and herded to the end of a long wooden building. As they entered, Jacob was slapped in the chest with a set of white sheets and a green wool blanket. He was assigned a bunk and a locker number. When he stopped to ask a question, a sergeant at the front of the line grabbed him and shoved him into the room.

  “Get to your rack and get some sleep… your time for questions is over,” the sergeant said gruffly.

  Sounds of shouting outside the barracks broke Jacob from his reminiscent thoughts. He could hear men yelling and pounding. The door swung open, filling the room with bright, blinding light and screaming men. A sergeant stormed into the room, stomping his boots and banging a metal pail with a small hickory rod. In shock, Jacob sat up swiftly and saw other men fly from the bunks completely unprepared for the chaos. More men in uniform poured into the room, yelling and shouting instructions. A man in a top bunk was grabbed by his ankle and dragged out of bed; another was shoved to the ground when he stepped in front of one of the sergeants.

  A leathered man, hardly five foot eight, marched into the room. He was dressed in starched trousers, a black sweatshirt, and spit-shined black boots. The man stomped from one end of the bay to the other and yelled in a loud baritone voice, “Drop your cocks and grab your socks; you’ve got five minutes to get your soft, worthless bodies formed up and out front!”

  Jacob locked eyes with the man, who returned a cold, hard stare. He was old and calloused; a deep scar ran from the top of his shaved head to the bottom of his cheek. Even though older, he was large and powerfully built, broad shouldered and intimidating. Jacob looked away, breaking the man’s stare and wondering what the hell had ever convinced him to sign up for this.

  Jacob fell from his bed and scrambled for his trousers, feeling the man’s hate burn into him. Suddenly, he was afraid… afraid of bringing any attention on himself. The main thing Stephens warned him about training was to remain anonymous; Become invisible, don’t get singled out. He hurried into his boots and joined the others as they rushed out onto the short strip of white gravel directly in front of the barracks building. The sun had yet to rise, and it was cold, their breath forming little clouds of condensation in the freezing Canadian air.

  The shocked recruits grouped together in a tight huddle, looking to hide their eyes from the glaring sergeants that circled around them like sharks. Jacob peeked between the rows of bodies as he watched the leathered man leave the barracks and move into the front of the group. He marched purposefully, shaking his head side to side, muttering to himself in disappointment. He stopped just in front of the tight cluster of scared men at the end of a crushed-gravel lot. He stood like a statue with his chest pushed out. He feigned shock and disgust when he looked up at them.

  “What in Jesus H… is this gaggle…? I want every one of you dirtbags in the front leaning rest! Move dammit!” he bellowed. />
  Jacob stood confused as the group collapsed in on itself. Everyone wanting to create as much separation as possible from the man in front of them, they squeezed together, the huddle getting tighter.

  “Well? What the hell are you waiting for?”

  Sergeants stepped from the shadows and grabbed the recruits by their shoulders, forcing them to the ground. “He means pushup positions! Now get your filthy civilian bodies on the ground,” one yelled.

  Jacob scrambled for room and dropped to all fours while the others—moving just as quickly—dropped in all around him. Sergeants moved among the group, all yelling at the same time, making it impossible to understand individual commands. When they stopped, Jacob could already feel his arms begin to shake from holding the position.

  The leathered man strolled between the rows, not making any attempts to avoid stepping on them. “Now… I understand this is your first day and you all don’t know Joseph from Mary, that you are weak and pathetic, so I’m gonna take it easy on you today. I’m going to give you five seconds to get your nasty bone bags into a formation. I want to see four equal rows of earth sacks. Do you understand, recruits?”

  The group held silent; only the sounds of panicked breathing emanated from the scared men.

  “I said do you understand?”

  A low mumbling of “yeah” fell from the group.

  “What! Who said that?” The man stepped toward one of them, placing a boot on the recruit’s back and pressing his body into the gravel as he continued shouting. “‘Yeah’? Let me make one thing perfectly clear, recruits; I am not your buddy. You will address me as Drill Sergeant! Do you understand?

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant,” the recruits said in unison.

  “Better. Now show me a formation!”

  The recruits jumped to their feet and tried to scramble into four rows. Jacob was trying to press between two men. Another group was just behind, and everyone crowded together again in fear.