Worlds Collide (Architects of the Apocalypse Book 2), page 29
“Push up,” Ethan whispered, sprinting for the next cover position between them and the enemy—a thick log that appeared to be serving as a bench around a big, smoldering cooking fire. Ethan swept his rifle about as they ran, checking trees and structures, looking for hidden enemies. “Watch for an ambush,” Ethan warned as they passed the nearest Jakar hut. Dark eyes peeked from behind a thatch door that was cracked open, but the diminutive height of the spectator implied that it was a child.
Ethan’s gaze roved on.
“We need a way to separate the hostages from their captors,” Private Meyers said, her eyes on the trees.
They reached the log and crouched behind it, peeking over the top with their rifles. Gibbons had their rear covered, just in case the Jakar were busy circling around with a flanking element.
“You have an idea about that, Private?” Ethan asked.
“Yes, sir,” Meyers replied. “They have us over a barrel because they think we’re after the prisoners. If we threaten one of their other assets, we might force them out of cover to defend it.”
“Good thinking, Private. I assume you have an idea about what we should threaten?”
“The structure in the river. They seem to have assigned it an almost religious significance, along with the alien entity that emerged from it. It seems almost like a temple. We threaten to defile it, and my bet is that they’ll come running.”
“Fair enough, but what about the aliens themselves? There could be more of them inside. Or the one who came out earlier could come back.”
“Yes, sir. That is a risk.”
Ethan frowned, sighting through his scope to the Jakar huddled in the trees with their prisoners. Besides the four they’d just killed, there had to be at least sixteen more, and they were staying deep within the cover of the trees, making sure to keep the hostages between them and Ethan’s forces. They could probably still defeat the Jakar in a direct frontal assault, but some of the hostages might be killed in the process, and maybe even one or two of his men.
Meyers’ plan was risky for the unknown variable of the aliens, but otherwise it seemed like a great way to whittle down the Jakar’s numbers. But the fifteen to twenty warriors in the forest weren’t all of the enemy’s forces. They had at least a hundred more that Ethan had seen during the day, going about their business in the village—most of them women and children, which raised the question: where were the rest of the men? Maybe they were out with the hunting party that had herded those dinosaurs off the cliff. Regardless, even the women could be a threat. He had a feeling that Jakar culture didn’t leave the business of fighting to the men, but rather that the women had been instructed to hide until reinforcements arrived.
“They’re stalling for time,” Ethan realized. He touched the comms piece in his ear. “Corporal Kelly, keep an eye on the paths leading to and from your position. Jakar reinforcements could be inbound to your location.”
“Copy that, Major. O’Neill is on it. What’s it look like down there?”
“It’s a rat’s nest. We’re gonna flush ‘em out. Keep those towers clear.”
“Copy, sir.”
Ethan glanced at the path that led to the river’s edge and to the bridge that crossed to the alien structure. The path wound directly past the enemy’s position, behind the cooking tents, and to the clearing at the end of the valley where Preston Baylor and that other prisoner were still tied to wooden posts.
Meyers’ plan had the added benefit of giving them an opportunity to at least free those two and arm them to bolster their numbers. But if the Jakar wanted to sally out and intercept them along the way, they could. “We’ll have to make a run for it,” Ethan decided. “Ready?”
“I was born ready, sir,” Meyers said.
“Hooah,” Gibbons added quietly.
“Let’s go!” Ethan jumped up and vaulted over the log. An arrow came whistling toward him from the trees. It missed by a hair. A crack of a sniper rifle echoed from the cliffs, and the archer went flying into the tree that he’d been using for cover.
“Watch for archers!” Ethan shouted, scanning for more of them as he ran.
Garcia popped off a shot, but missed, sending another bowman scrambling for cover.
Gibbons and Clark added suppressive fire to that, forcing the Jakar to stay behind the trees.
Ethan reached the water’s edge in a matter of seconds, and he crouched with his men behind a hide-draped cooking tent. The bridge to the alien structure was just off to their right, about twenty yards away. The path continued along the riverbank, covered with interlocking wooden spikes all the way to the clearing at the end. “Garcia, take Clark to the alien temple. Hold position there and keep us covered if you can.”
“Copy, sir,” Garcia whispered, while peeking around the corner of the tent to the enemy position.
“Gibbons, Meyers, you’re with me. We’re going to free those two prisoners.”
“Yes, sir,” Meyers said.
“Let’s go,” Ethan said, then jumped up and ran. He sprinted out from behind the tent—
And almost collided with the thrusting point of a spear.
He swung his rifle into line with a sneering man wearing a bloodstained leather apron. A butcher or a cook? It didn’t matter, Ethan pulled the trigger. The man cried out and dropped his spear, clutching a bubbling fountain of blood in his right side.
They ran on, with Garcia and Clark laying down covering fire to dissuade archers who were peeking out from the trees. A tunnel of interlocking wooden stakes blurred around them as they ran down a dusty alley between thatch-roofed wooden huts. No one popped outside or attempted to shoot at them from the doors or shadowy windows of those buildings, but Ethan didn’t trust it. He was almost certain that those buildings were all occupied.
That gave him pause: his objective was to free the prisoners, not to kill the Jakar, but the fact that those buildings weren’t empty meant that their escape route could get choked off, and then they could wind up cornered here at the end of the valley. Adding to their precarious position was the fact that the clearing where Preston was tied up was completely exposed. Archers could snipe at them from the cover of the forest, and they would have no way to protect themselves. They’d have to work fast.
The path wound away from the wooden huts, and the end of it appeared fifty feet ahead, along with the two wooden posts that the captives were tied to. Ethan gritted his teeth and steeled himself for the coming fight. Meyers ran alongside him, the look on her face equally grim. She’d probably also realized just how badly exposed that clearing was.
1:45 PM, March 27th, 2070
Two ringing thuds reverberated through the entry hall of Lacy’s house. Layla cracked her eyes open to see the drones lying dormant on the floor. A familiar, blond-bearded man slowly tucked a blinking silver sphere back into his bomber jacket. Layla remembered his name was Caleb. The sphere clicked and whirred, and then the glowing lights vanished.
“We have to go,” Caleb said.
The fact that he had just saved her life bought him some benefit of the doubt.
“Where?” she demanded.
“Manhattan.”
“More specific.”
Caleb scowled and pointed to the dormant drones. “We don’t have time for this. They’re going to send more, and soon. Do you want to be here for that? Because I sure as hell don’t.”
Layla contemplated it. Her situation really couldn’t get any worse. She could stay here and die, or go with this man and find out what the hell was so important about her and her baby that some clandestine group was trying to protect them. “Fine,” she conceded.
He turned and strode swiftly back through the home. The lights were out again.
Suspicion wormed through Layla’s thoughts as she followed him. “How did you take out those drones?” she asked.
“EMP grenade.”
“That little ball you had in your hand?”
Caleb nodded. They reached the sliding door from the kitchen to the back deck, and he yanked it open. He drew a strange-looking black pistol from within his bulky jacket and his gaze swept up to the overcast sky, as if scanning for targets. Not seeing anything, he gestured hurriedly for her to follow him.
They ran down the steps and went crunching through the snow to the side gate. Caleb left it open, and Layla didn’t waste time shutting it behind her. Outside, sitting smack in the middle of the front lawn, was a gleaming black air car with room for two. Layla’s eyebrows drifted up. “Isn’t it too dangerous to fly?”
“Not for me,” he said, breathing hard as he sprinted to his vehicle.
Scissor doors swung up. This man came from money. A lot of it. That was exactly the opposite of Layla’s first impression, when she’d seen him shopping alongside her in Maine. He had been packing his groceries into a shiny, eight-seater EV, but somehow his scruffy appearance had been a stronger indicator of social status than his ride, which could have been rented or hired for that particular jaunt. An eVTOL like this one, however, was clearly not rented. For one thing, too few of them had survived the invasion, and for another, rental companies and ride apps were no longer functioning with the spotty cell and satellite networks.
Layla climbed awkwardly into the passenger seat next to her mysterious savior. The doors swept down, and Caleb finished inputting their destination to a nav map. Having finished, the vehicle rose swiftly into the air with a surprisingly quiet whirring of rotors. Moments later, they went streaking low over the snowy rooftops of Brookhaven.
It wasn’t long before the gleaming towers of Manhattan swept into view. Layla peered up through the bubble-shaped glass canopy, searching for a hint of the shadowy cruiser that she’d seen earlier, but it had either moved on, or ascended above the clouds. If it was there, surely it could see them on radar—or whatever high-tech alien equivalent the Watchers were using.
A thought occurred to her, and she looked sharply at Caleb. “Are you chipped?”
“Yes.”
“Then they know that you’re the one who took out those drones.”
The man smiled and hiked up his sleeve to reveal a black disk clinging to the back of his wrist.
“What is that?”
“Signal blocker. It keeps me off the grid when I need to be.”
“But then ... won’t that make them think you tampered with your implant?”
He shook his head. “I have another one attached to a butler bot back at my place. That one is still transmitting my tracker signal, and the bot is busy cleaning house, so that’s what the Watchers think I’m doing, too.”
“Won’t they see this air car flying around, and wonder why there are no tracking signals coming from inside?”
“The Watchers track people, not vehicles.”
Layla nodded slowly, her brow furrowed in concentration. If Caleb had a butler bot, then she was right about him being a wealthy man. Autonomous robots that were good for more than just the novelty factor were a new development, and still incredibly expensive.
“The last time we met, you mentioned you were going to give me answers. Maybe you want to start explaining.”
Caleb slowly shook his head. “It would be better if my employer did the talking.”
“Your employer?” Layla’s eyes narrowed. Maybe she’d read it all wrong. Caleb wasn’t the man in charge, or some wealthy eccentric who’d taken a perverse interest in her. Whoever this was, he was the errand boy, not the mastermind. “And who exactly is your employer?”
“That’s a long story. Better let them tell you.”
“Them? So it’s more than one person? A corporation? No ... you’re rebels, aren’t you?” Now the signal blocker and the EMP device made perfect sense. “Are you with Apocalypsis?”
Caleb opened his mouth to answer, but then he appeared to stop himself, and the muscles bunched in his jaw as he clamped it shut. “Patience, Miss Bester. You’re about to get more answers than you bargained for.”
Chapter 37
3:22 AM, September 29, 2069
Tom’s ears pricked up at the rattle of gunfire, punctuated by the occasional boom of sniper shots ringing across the valley. Minutes later, he saw three soldiers come running into view.
“Thank God,” Tom breathed.
“Hey! Cut us down!” Preston called to them.
One of the three gave hand signals to the other two, then crouched beside Tom’s pole, using it for cover while keeping his aim on the trees. The other two soldiers bustled around the base of Preston’s pole, looking for a way to get him down. When it proved too difficult to simply lift the post out of the ground, one of the soldiers began climbing, using the knotty projections where branches used to be as hand and footholds.
A pair of arrows came whistling out of the trees, narrowly missing the climber. The other two soldiers fired back immediately, and Tom heard a Jakar warrior cry out in pain as those bullets found their mark.
The climber cut Preston free, starting with his ankles. Preston nearly fell when the soldier cut the ropes around his wrists.
“Careful,” the man warned.
Preston slowly turned, clinging to the wooden pole and then hugging it as he slid the twenty feet to the ground.
The soldier went to cut Tom free next. His entire body trembled with anticipation that an arrow would come flying through the trees and end his life before the soldiers could cut him free. Hurry up! Tom thought at the soldier slicing the ropes around his ankles.
His wrists sprang free next, but Tom was ready for it, grabbing the pole quickly and carefully twisting around to hug it on the way down. With his injured arm and shoulders, Tom found shimmying down the trunk to be difficult, but fortunately the pteranodon hadn’t done any serious damage. He gritted his teeth through the pain, and a few seconds later all five of them were gathered on the ground. The soldiers hurriedly led them to the relative cover of the dirt pathway with its overlapping wooden stakes. They sheltered on the far side of the path. No Jakar archers could get a clear shot through all the interlocking wooden posts. Two of the soldiers unslung sleek black carbines from their backs and handed them over.
“You know how to use them?” one of the soldiers asked.
Tom shook his head, not recognizing the make or model, and the man proceeded to explain the different positions for the safety selector, as well as how to arm the rifle with the charging handle.
“My name’s Major Ethan White,” the other male soldier said while the first was still explaining how to use the weapons. The female soldier covered the trees, her eye pressed to the scope of her weapon. “I’m in charge of Operation Deliverance,” the major added.
“You’re the one we spoke with on the comms?” Preston asked.
“That’s correct.”
“Please tell me you have more men than this,” Preston said.
“Another two at the temple, and three up on the cliff.”
“What temple?” Tom asked.
The major pointed to the obsidian black structure rising from the river.
“You mean the gateway,” Tom said.
“Gateway?” Major White asked.
Preston explained what it was, and how Axel claimed he could use it to get them back to Earth. A troubled look crossed the major’s face.
“What’s wrong?” Tom asked.
“Did you see the alien that came out of it earlier?”
“We did,” Tom confirmed.
“If what you’re saying is true, then it might have come from Earth. And that might mean that the Watchers have already arrived. It might also explain why Earth hasn’t been responding to our comms.”
“Watchers?” Tom asked.
“I believe you call them Architects,” Major White said.
“Aha. Yeah. The species who supposedly built this place,” Tom clarified.
The major nodded.
“We need to free Axel if we’re going to travel through the gateway,” Preston said. “He’s the only one who knows how to use it.”
“What about the others? We can’t just leave them here,” Tom said.
“We’re not leaving anyone,” Major White confirmed.
“We’re in no position to rescue them all, sir,” the female soldier put in. “Their position is far too defensible, and the odds of civilian casualties are high.”
Major White looked to the alien structure in the river and back again. “Seems like just getting to their temple wasn’t enough to flush them out of the forest.”
Tom noticed a pair of soldiers standing there, peeking out from behind the chamber at the top of the pyramid-shaped structure.
“No, sir,” Meyers replied. “We need to threaten the facility somehow.”
“Too bad I left the C4 in my other pair of pants,” Ethan replied dryly.
That drew a chuckle from the other male soldier.
“If you’re trying to draw them out,” Preston began, “we could try to activate the gateway ourselves. They might react to that.”
“Can you?” Major White asked.
“Not me, but he can.” Preston pointed to Tom. “Axel said it was built for minders to use.”
“What the hell are minders?” Major White asked.
“Long story,” Tom replied. “But yeah, I can try.”
“And then what?” Major White asked. “We can’t actually go through the gateway without confirming where it leads first, so it’s an empty threat.”
“Maybe just activating it will be enough to get a response from them,” Meyers suggested.
“I have a better idea,” Major White said. “They have our people, so let’s capture some of theirs. Then we make a trade. We’ll start by checking those huts.” Major White pointed to the thatch-roofed wooden structures flanking the dirt path. The nearest one was about thirty feet away.
“Risky, sir,” the other male soldier said. “What if they fight back? Our numbers are insufficient to effectively control a large group of captives.”
