Resistance Day : They Came for Blood, Book 2, page 1
Copyright © 2020 by Scott Moon
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Resistance Day
They Came For Blood: Book Two
Scott Moon
Contents
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Book Order
Book Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
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What’s Next
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Book Order
THEY CAME FOR BLOOD
Invasion Day
Resistance Day
Victory Day (coming soon)
Alien Apocalypse (coming soon)
A MECH WARRIOR’S TALE
(SHORTYVERSE)
Shorty
Kill Me Now
Ground Pounder
Shorty and the Brits
Fight for Doomsday (A Novel)… coming soon.
CHRONICLES OF KIN ROLAND
Enemy of Man
Son of Orlan
Weapons of Earth
DARKLANDING
Assignment Darklanding
Ike Shot the Sheriff
Outlaws
Runaway
An Unglok Murder
SAGCON
Race to the Finish
Boom Town
A Warrior's Home
Hunter
Diver Down
Empire
FALL OF PROMISEDALE
Death by Werewolf
GRENDEL UPRISING
Proof of Death
Blood Royal
Grendel
SMC MARAUDERS
Bayonet Dawn
Burning Sun
The Forever Siren
SON OF A DRAGONSLAYER
Dragon Badge
Dragon Attack
Dragon Land
TERRAN STRIKE MARINES
The Dotari Salvation
Rage of Winter
Valdar’s Hammer
The Beast of Eridu
THE LAST REAPER
The Last Reaper
Fear the Reaper
Blade of the Reaper
Wings of the Reaper
Flight of the Reaper
Wrath of the Reaper
Will of the Reaper
Descent of the Reaper
Hunt of the Reaper
Bastion of the Reaper
SHORT STORIES
Boss
Fire Prince
Ice Field
Sgt. Orlan: Hero of Man
The Darklady
ASSASSIN PRIME
The Hand of Empyrean
Spiderfall
Book Description
The Fosk-ha spent a thousand years traveling to Earth. Violent, world-subjugating void travelers, they’ve terrorized and enslaved civilizations across the galaxy for countless eons. Humanity doesn’t stand a chance.
Or do they?
A truck driver with a history of illegal street racing, a cop unwilling to back down from bullies and terrorists, and a game designer who’s learning to put theory into action seem an unlikely crew to save the world but somebody has to fight back.
Check out part two of They Came for Blood and join the resistance.
Chapter One
Pine trees flashed from existence as a beam of light blasted a hole in the mountainside. David leapt toward the young woman, grabbing her roughly and shoving her to the ground. “Down!”
“Ooof!” she grunted when he landed on top of her.
Energy crackled and ozone burned. Nearby trees burst into flame, superheated sap popping and spitting through the air. Smoke rolled away from the scene as though disturbed by a jet fighter that had just passed twenty feet overhead.
He took a knee, his other leg ready to drive up to his feet while he sheltered Dust with his body. With one hand, he kept her down. The other he placed on the butt of his Smith & Wesson Thunder Ranch pistol. Their enemies were nowhere in sight, no matter how he searched for them.
“Let me up,” she complained, straining to push out the words.
“Sorry.” He stood, then gripped the pistol in both hands, not sure what difference it could make but not knowing what else to do. He’d seen the stance in movies and thought it looked cool. “We need to keep moving, in case they’ve zeroed in on our position.”
Another flash of light, immediately followed by burning trees and crackling air, caused them to duck. They hurried down the hill, slipping and sliding on loose gravel.
“Just keep going; it doesn’t matter what direction.” David tried to use the handheld radio while he was running, but all he got was static. “Stay close. If we split up, we’re screwed.”
“Okay, okay, okay!” Dust jumped, hurdling a rock that bounced across the trail. Smaller bits of debris followed, showering her in grit.
David skidded to a stop to avoid the same rock, then hurried to catch up with the young woman. They were seconds apart and moving at a reckless pace. Catching his breath didn’t seem possible.
The trail switched back, and David careened into a tree when he failed to negotiate the turn. His left cheek slammed into the bark and it felt like getting hit with brass knuckles. Stars exploded in his vision. Branches slashed skin from his hands and forearms.
Dust came back, grabbed him by the hand, and pulled him desperately onward.
“Come on!” Dust shouted.
They reached a stream and crossed it. He needed to get his wits back. The alien ships were firing blindly into the forest, but each attack seemed farther away. Their destructive power ate a hole in his confidence even when moving the other direction. How the hell do we stop these SOBs?
Smoke filled the valley. Lights flashed in the distance. Jump ship engines roared as Fosk-ha weapons fired at anything that moved in a hideous symphony of destruction. Fire and lightning reflected from the underside of lenticular clouds.
David took hold of Dust and looked her over for injuries. She shook free, briefly dusting off her sleeves and pants legs before striding up the next leg of the trail. “Maybe I should surrender to the Fosk-ha before I get hurt.”
He jogged to catch up. “We need to find the others. Next time, I’ll let you get blasted.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Frustration and guilt showed on her face. “Try the crappy radio they gave you. And just try not to crush me next time. Have you ever thought of what it feels like to have someone three times your size land on you?”
“I’m not that big.”
“You know what I mean.”
He keyed the walkie-talkie button. “Jackknife for Guardian or Ax Handle, do you copy?”
“Guardian copies,” a gruff male voice said. “Where are you? I don’t like what I’m seeing in the next valley.”
“Trust me, Guardian, it doesn’t look any better up close. We’re heading back to base camp unless you tell us otherwise. Please advise.”
The response was layered and staticky, but he thought he understood the words.
“I didn’t catch that.” Dust seemed worried. “Did they say it’s safe or to stay away?”
“I think he said base camp was safe.” David was tired, hungry, and in pain. His face throbbed from the tree, and his hands had definitely looked better. He had also cracked his right shin against something and accumulated dozens of other nicks, cuts, and burns from flying splinters and hot tree sap. “We aren’t overwhelmed with options.”
“I’m following you,” Dust said. “You’ve gotten us this far without breaking bones.”
“Sounded like you were giving me props there for a second. I must’ve heard you wrong.” David took the lead, more confident now that he had made a decision.
“I’ve decided to give you one a week. Keep your spirits up.”
He laughed and felt marginally better despite recent events. They kept moving for an hour, constantly watching for more ships, but none came. Evidently, even the aliens had fuel limitations.
“I never figured out why they call you Jackknife,” she said as they were growing closer to the resistance compound.
He winced. “It goes back to my truck driving school days. I’ve been driving since I was eight, but I couldn’t back a trailer to save my life.”
&nb
sp; “And that matters why?”
He touched his fingertips together, then closed his hands until the palms were nearly touching. “If you back up and the angle is wrong, or you can’t adjust your steering, the rig and the trailer get all bound up like this. They call it a jackknife.”
“So it’s not a cool nickname,” she said, then winced when she moved her arm wrong.
“Are you all right? Did that happen on the way down or did you get hit with something?”
She shook her head. “I’m okay, no thanks to a certain trucker, not giving his name, but his initials are David ‘Jackknife’ Osage.”
“You’re hilarious.” He tried to get ahead of her to force a serious answer, or at least make eye contact.
She quickened her pace. “I’m fine. It’s not like you’re anything to look at right now.”
David pretended to let the topic go but watched the young woman carefully. They’d been through a lot, and he knew she was important. He understood she was more than she seemed, possibly an alien or at least part alien. The details were sketchy, always twisting away from the light when he tried to get the whole truth.
She held her arm like the wound was fresh—like there was something inside her veins keeping the pain alive and preventing her from escaping her hunters. She said that once, dropped hints about bio trackers and other things she’d promised he didn’t want to know about.
Or did I tackle her that hard? What the hell was I supposed to do with Fosk ships blowing the shit out of everything? Which would be better: she’s infected with alien bio-weapons or I broke her arm trying to help her? He felt like shit either way.
“I don’t understand women in general and don’t get you at all, Dustvaria,” he said without thinking.
“Don’t use my full name,” she said. “It’s weird. You’re making me feel like I’m being scolded.”
“Sometimes you sound like a normal teenager.”
“I’m not a teenager, not even close.”
He picked up the pace, not sure how the conversation had begun or how to end it.
Protecting the young woman grew progressively more complicated the longer he knew her. First, she needed a ride. Next, he’d threatened her possibly abusive foster dad only to learn he was a federal agent. Then alien jump ships chased them across Kansas.
There was more to her situation than she was telling him. The mountain air—even as smokey as it was now—promised many things, but not safety for someone like the young Navigator.
That was what she called herself, a Navigator—like that was a thing.
David suspected a dark truth just out of reach. A team of Fosk-ha commandos had assaulted his rig while it had been stalled in westbound I-70 traffic several months ago. One of the alien freaks had smashed through the window and latched on to the young woman’s arm while he’d been busy kicking a different attacker in the face. This wasn’t random. They’d been trying to take prisoners, because if they’d wanted to turn his Peterbilt into melted slag and vaporized tires, they could have.
“Jackknife for Guardian, do you copy?” he asked. The radio popped a few times.
“I can read you. It’s been a long day. There were attacks in other areas as well. Everyone’s bringing it in now. We’ll see you at the mess hall,” Guardian said. “It’s another good day to be alive.”
“We’re on the way.” David looked at Dust for a second, about to say something, but changed his mind and motioned toward the campgrounds where most of the buildings were. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”
“You’re always hungry.” She didn’t say no. “Maybe you’re the one who got bitten by alien bloodsuckers. It does things to your metabolism.”
“What are you, a mind reader?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying you could be infected by them.”
“Death first,” David said.
They crossed the KTOA campground too tired to say much more than that. Other scouts were coming in, most of them battered. Some had singed clothing and others were covered in dirt like they’d rolled through mud.
Many of the people at the camp had stayed out of the action, watched it from a distance, and probably worried that it would come to their doorsteps. Any day it didn’t was cause for celebration.
At the bottom of the trail, someone played the guitar and sang campfire songs like they couldn’t believe they were alive. It reminded David of hurricane parties he’d left in his rearview mirror two years before. Voices joined in, blithely carefree, despite the fact that every one of them were resistance fighters living in cabins carefully disguised to look vacant. No one talked about the constant threat of eradication.
“They didn’t waste any time. Smells like somebody’s grilling burgers,” David said, his mouth watering despite the dread he felt in his gut. They couldn’t keep having these close calls. “Do Navigators know anything about fine cuisine?”
Dust laughed, seeming glad for the distraction. “I know what I like.”
“Cheese?”
“Of course.” Her smiled reminded him that she was more human than she wasn’t, no matter what she knew about the invaders or could do for them.
“Lettuce and tomato? Pickles and onions?” he asked.
“No onions.” She stepped carefully down the next turn in the log and dirt staircase.
“So you are a communist.”
She crooked an eyebrow. “What do onions have to do with political affiliation?”
David laughed, but not as much as he would have on a normal day.
“Do you hear their pulse weapons?” she asked. “Sounds like they’re moving this way again.”
David knew she was right. They needed to get the hell out of this place. “Jackknife for Guardian, we need to move camp. Everyone has to go. Something is wrong.”
No answer.
Dust hugged herself and looked worried.
“For a centenarian, you look like a kid,” he said without thinking.
“I’m old; that doesn’t mean I’m experienced. I was locked in a cage, an expensive and beautiful cage, but you know what I mean. My memories of the Fosk-ha are from a long time ago.”
A formation of ship lights flew over the mountains, far from the converted KTOA campground but visible in the darkening sky. “I didn’t see airships like that on the highway or attacking cities and towns.”
“These are for fighting against their own kind,” Dust explained. “What they have been using until now are like, I don’t know, police action stuff.”
“So now it’s war,” he said, wondering how bad an alien civil war would be for the bystanders. “If they want us for our blood, what is their problem with other aliens?”
She dodged the question. “It will be worse right before they leave. Once they have what they want, they burn everything they leave behind.”
An unpleasant chill went up David’s spine. Escape wasn’t enough. They needed to do something—find a real resistance chapter, maybe go back to the Brightens where people actually knew what the hell they were doing.
Dust lowered her voice. “I remember when our world surrendered.” She hesitated. “About like you would remember something when you were just learning to speak. It’s complicated and I was young. My people also have generational memories that get mingled in with direct experience.”
“What are you talking about?” He knew this was critical information, but the closer the Fosk ships came, the less he worried about anything else.
