Mother Ship Page 8

  13

  7 days to extinction

  “I should have gone with Max,” Jimmy told the empty living room.

  Looking back, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. The idea of leaving terrified him, he guessed, and not just because of all the mindless killers roaming the countryside.

  This place was his home. He’d grown up here, roaming the sprawling property as a kid, either with friends or alone. Pestering the horses. Pretending he was a cowboy, or an explorer, or a soldier. He was having trouble grappling with the idea that he might have to leave it, now, forever.

  Which was kind of ironic, considering how much like a prison it had felt since his mom had died. After he’d graduated high school, he’d worried about being stuck on his father’s acreage for the rest of his life. Now, he didn’t want to leave. Funny.

  In the years since his mother’s lymphoma had claimed her, his father had done the bare minimum to keep this place running, and he let more and more of it fall onto Jimmy’s shoulders as he slid further into drink. Things had gotten real quiet around here, with Candice Somerton gone. Listless. Jimmy had taken on the cooking and cleaning—what little that got done—as well as the horses and a lot of the property’s upkeep. In between that he’d had to fit in school, not that he ever cared much about his grades. Not to mention finding time for his friends. He’d missed plenty of parties because of work here, but he’d gone to his fair share, too.

  His father had pretended not to notice the weed stashes that multiplied throughout the house, and in turn, Jimmy didn’t mention Avery was drinking too much. Conversation between them had been scarce. That had always been the case, but Jimmy only really noticed it after they buried his mother among the pine trees.

  Why didn’t I go with Max? he asked himself again.

  His friend was practically military, now—the best sort of person to have on hand during something like this. Well, he had one year of Air Force school. Close enough.

  Besides, Max was a brain. If anyone was going to figure out what the hell was going on, it would be someone like him, especially with the top-secret stuff his parents did for work.

  Jimmy wondered if Max had met up with them yet. Hell, they could be getting to the bottom of some really cool alien shit right now!

  Damn it.

  He sat on the couch and lifted the chest’s lid to remove the Ziploc bag of pot, which now sat on top of everything else. Holding it up to the window, he studied the contents, trying to estimate how much longer it would last him.

  His supply was holding up better than it might have. Max’s words had spooked him, about the drug maybe pushing him over the edge, combined with whatever that ship was doing to people. Each day he held out for hours before he had his first puff, trying to go as long as he could before succumbing to the temptation.

  But now, he just wanted to get really high. He was starting to feel like he’d never see Max again, or anyone he knew. He felt lonely—lonelier than he’d felt sitting up nights watching TV, with his dad passed out in the armchair after putting away most of a twenty-sixer.

  The bud he kept in the chest was stronger than the stash in his room, with THC content through the roof. He’d ordered it during one of his forays through the dark web.

  He was about to pack his pipe when he decided to roll a big doobie instead. Screw it. Reopening the chest, he fished around for the pack of papers, then got to work atop the chest’s closed lid.

  The pipe would have been easier, but rolling a joint reminded him of hanging out with his friends, passing one around at lunch in the woods behind school.

  He grabbed a lighter from the side table, and a pop can he’d been using as an ash tray—they’d never had a proper one here, since his father hadn’t smoked anything. Then he snagged a slightly browned banana from the counter and stood by the kitchen window, staring out over the flat countryside, losing himself in memory as he sucked the joint down between bites of the fruit.

  Halfway through eating the banana, movement caught his eye in the distance, to his left. He squinted. A black car was speeding down the dirt road, kicking up dust as it went. Another appeared behind it, then another.

  The half-eaten banana fell from his hand. He grabbed a pair of binoculars from the window’s ledge, which Avery Somerton had once used for birdwatching, though he hadn’t bothered with that for years.

  Five jet-black Cadillac Escalades jumped into view, now raising a great cloud of dust. He tracked them for twenty seconds, until they disappeared from view to his right.

  Jimmy took the binoculars with him as he ran to the front of the house, to the bathroom next to the front door. Standing on the toilet, he peered through the tiny horizontal window near the ceiling, meant to let steam out after a shower.

  He didn’t need the binoculars to see the convoy had turned down his road, which only led to two properties—the Dempsey ranch and the Somerton acreage.

  “Holy shit. They’re coming here.”

  Jimmy was no stranger to the very real possibility that the government had been covering up evidence of alien existence for decades. Was it also possible that they’d noticed his many nights of trawling through the internet’s darkest corners, researching evidence for aliens, stoned out of his tree?

  Did he know too much?

  He realized he was still holding his joint, and he dropped it into the bathtub. Then, thinking better of it, he scooped it up, snubbed it out on the tub’s lip, and ran it back to the chest, where he stuffed it into the baggie with the bud.

  He was breathing heavily, his heart hammering against his rib, as he flew down the hall to his bedroom. His backpack held the rest of his supply, and he snatched it from the dirty laundry strewn across the floor, sprinting with it to the kitchen.

  There, he added a few cans of soup and a bottle of water.

  “Shit. Shit!”

  He cast about the kitchen for what else he might need.

  No time.

  Hurrying to the back door, he began hauling away furniture as fast as he could, with a strength born from sheer panic. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he could hear the car’s engines just outside the house.

  Finally, a path was clear, and he threw open the door, bolting through it. He kept the house between himself and the driveway as best he could, and ran for the pine trees with everything he had, backpack jiggling crazily behind him.

  The horses went this way. Didn’t Max say he saw them run off in this direction? If he could find one of his horses…

  He was almost to the trees now, but he felt convinced the government had spotted him already.

  Soon, they would catch up to him. And then they would disappear him.

  14

  7 days to extinction

  Max had a decent knowledge of the area around the Somerton acreage, from cruising around nights with Jimmy, talking about the universe and everything in it.

  But Chambers, it seemed, had a map inside his head that would have put Google Maps to shame. He stayed away from main roads, instead sticking to back streets and even a few wide dirt paths. A couple times, Max was sure they would end up in a dead-end, but the routes the agent took always connected to something.

  So much preparation must have gone into this. Learning the area around Oklahoma City so well had to take hours and hours of study, and some of the shortcuts the agent took could only have been learned by actually exploring these streets and paths, which would have taken days.

  Was it all because Max lived in this area? A contingency measure, in case something like the ships’ arrival happened, and Max needed to be extracted fast?

  Then, Chambers took them down a path that did lead to a dead end. Max frowned, confused, until the agent turned off the ignition, and he realized it had been intentional.

  Chambers opened his door. “We should continue on foot from here. And stay away from the roads as much as we can.”

  Max nodded, and they got out, him with his pack slung over his shoulder and his Ruger tuck
ed behind his belt, Chambers with his camo, pistol, and backpack.

  Dry heat encased them as they made their way through trees and across acreages, jumping fences where necessary, and cutting across roads as quickly as they could. Soon, sweat coated Max’s forehead and dampened his back, but he was barely winded. Life as a cadet had been good for that. A year’s worth of conditioning was coming in handy.

  They reached yet another fence overlooking a massive field of lettuce crops, which stretched into the distance, the accompanying homestead just a series of tiny rectangles at the other end.

  They hopped the fence, and Max’s feet sank into the soil when he landed. This terrain wouldn’t make for great footing as they jogged across, but it was better than ending up in the back of some government van, he supposed.

  Chambers took the lead. “Getting close now.”

  As they neared the other side, Max noticed a group of horses near the far fence, eating their fill of the leafy vegetables.

  Six of them. Almost, he stopped in his tracks. Could it really be?

  It was. As they drew closer, he picked out the individual horses by their color. There was Daisy, the white; the gray named Ollie; and Brandy, the paint.

  “They didn’t go far,” he muttered.

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing.”

  As he and Chambers drew near, a red roan trotted out in front, positioning himself between them and the herd.

  Yago.

  He stared them down for a few seconds them, then whinnied. Apparently he’d decided they weren’t a threat, since he returned to the herd and began nosing Daisy. Her old boyfriend, Ollie, didn’t try to intervene.

  Looks like Yago’s the boss, now. That didn’t come as much of a surprise, considering his brutal dethroning of Bert. That had seemed like a big deal, then. Yago’s savagery. The lady losing her horse to his attack. But after what had happened since then, it barely registered emotionally, anymore.

  They finished crossing the farm, then a road, a ranch, and another road. At last, the Somerton home came into view, just past the stand of pine trees where they’d buried Jimmy’s father.

  Chambers’ brow was furrowed. He fished a pair of compact binoculars out of a jacket pocket and held them to his face.

  “Janet’s already here. Looks like they’re establishing a perimeter. We should turn back, now.”

  “You can. I’m not leaving without Jimmy.”

  Chambers turned toward him, jaw tight. “You can’t take him from them, Max. They’ll take you instead. And your mother’s efforts will have been for nothing.”

  “I’m going to try. And she’s not my mother.”

  Chambers sighed heavily. “All right, then.” He pocketed the binoculars and drew his pistol, then strode onto the property adjacent to Jimmy’s.

  They didn’t get far.

  Jimmy burst into view from around a shed, running flat-out, his backpack bouncing back and forth behind him. He seemed totally focused on the ground in front of his feet, and he didn’t notice them, even when Max waved.

  He moved into Jimmy’s path and spoke in a stage whisper. “Hey. Jimmy!”

  His friend came to a dead halt, bloodshot eyes locked onto Max as he let loose with a string of obscenities.

  “Man. Shut up.” Max shook his head. “Calm down, Jimmy.”

  “They’re here to get me, Max.” He planted his hands on Max’s shoulders and spoke through heavy panting. “I know too much. You know how much I know. I’ve been on to them for years—they must have been watching my internet. Don’t know how they tracked me across the dark web. But it does explain why they’re only catching up to me now. Well, I saw them coming. Joke’s on them.”

  Max and Chambers looked at each other. The agent looked bemused, while Max was fighting with everything he had to hold back his laughter.

  Jimmy released Max and squinted at their old principal, seeming to notice him for the first time. “Mr. Chambers?”

  “Are you stoned, son?”

  Max was unable to stop himself from smiling. Same old Jimmy. He’d smelled the weed the moment his friend had drawn near. “Jimmy, what was your plan? Where were you headed, just now?”

  “I was gonna look for the horses. Ride ’em out of here. Stay off the roads as much as I could.” He swallowed, looking at the ground. “I was gonna head for the city and look for you.”

  Max felt his smile broaden.

  “It’s lucky we ran into you first.” Chambers peered in the direction of the Somerton acreage. “The berserkers would have hauled you off a horse before you got more than a few blocks into the city.” He returned his gaze to Max. “The horse idea isn’t a bad one, though. We need to put as much distance as possible between us and them. Once they realize you aren’t in that house, they’re going to comb every street, drive, and dirt path around here. Driving around in a car won’t be viable for us, going forward.”

  Jimmy’s mouth fell open. “Wow. You really think I’m that important, for them to go to all that effort?”

  That earned a blank look from Chambers.

  Max cleared his throat, nodding back the way they’d come. “We passed the horses fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Seriously?” Jimmy said. “Our horses?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?”

  They made their way back across the ranch he and Chambers had just cut across, and then past the road, to the farm with the cabbages.

  And there the horses were, still vacuuming up cabbage leaves. Max almost felt bad about taking them away from their feast.

  “Have you ridden much?” Jimmy asked Chambers. “I know Max hasn’t.”

  Max shrugged. “I have a few times.”

  “I’ve been on some trail rides,” Chambers said.

  “So, rookies, then. Okay. I’d suggest Daisy and Brandy. They’re both reining horses, so they’re well-trained, and even-tempered. Good for beginners.”

  Max nodded. “Which one are you taking?”

  “Ollie.”

  “What about Yago?”

  Jimmy’s mouth quirked. “What about him?”

  “Is he well-trained?”

  “Probably. He’s also crazy. Remember how we watched him kill another horse?”

  A war horse, then. “I want him.”

  “That doesn’t seem like a great idea.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Chambers said.

  “I’m taking him.” Max approached Yago, who eyed him. He tried not to let his body language reveal his apprehension.

  “Any chance of talking you out of this?”

  “Nope.”

  Jimmy sighed, and stepped forward, his fingers knitted together in a makeshift stirrup. None of the horses had any tack on them. “Want help getting on?”

  “I’m good.” Max circled around to Yago’s left side, grabbed hold of his mane, and swung himself onto the roan’s back. Chambers did the same with Daisy.

  “Okay, then.” Jimmy walked to Ollie and pulled himself onto the gray’s bare back.

  Yago chose that moment to rear up, threatening to buck Max off. He dug his hands into the alpha’s mane and held on for dear life, his arms the only thing keeping him on the animal’s back. “Hey!” he shouted, stern, and the horse settled back down. “Let’s go. Uh, how do we steer?”

  “Turn your head in the direction you want to go. Turn your shoulders slightly that way, and rotate your hips. Then use pressure from your legs. Whatever direction you want to turn, keep that leg slightly forward.”

  It took a few tries, in between nervous glances back toward the acreage. But with a few minutes of practice, they all managed to turn their horses the same way—east, at Chambers’ suggestion.

  “Do we have a destination?” Jimmy called. “Or are we just sort of riding?”

  “Colorado,” Max said. “We’ll stay off the roads as much as we can, and loop back to the west once we’re sure we aren’t being followed.”

  15

 
7 days to extinction

  Ethan Dean emerged from the hallway, clutching ribbons of blue, square packages that dangled from his hands. They could only be one thing.

  “Check this out. Guy bought these in bulk. Who needs this many condoms?”

  Janet grimaced. “Have you inspected the perimeter yet?”

  “What? Oh. The men have that covered.” Once an Army Ranger officer, Ethan was now in charge of overseeing the GDA’s paramilitary division—at least, the part they still had access to. He placed a lot of confidence in his subordinates.

  Too much, in Janet’s opinion. She much preferred to avoid screw-ups through direct oversight, rather than delegating everything like Ethan did.

  “You told them to set up along the property lines? In case the asset is hiding somewhere on the acreage, and tries to make a break for it?”

  “Of course.”

  Janet nodded curtly.

  “You should see Somerton’s room. The entire thing is like a Pink Floyd album cover. Filthy, too. He kept it like a pig sty.”

  “Just keep searching.” She turned back toward the living room.

  “What are we looking for, exactly?”

  “A sign of where the asset might be headed.”

  “Any word from Chambers yet?”

  She turned to face Ethan again. He still held the blue ribbons. “Will you put those down?”

  He tossed them through Somerton’s open door.

  “No, no one’s heard from him. I’m sure he’s gone rogue.”

  “Wow. You’re quick to distrust. He might have died.”

  “Ted Chambers didn’t die. He went rogue. I think he sided with the Edwards. For all we know, he could be with the asset right now, helping him escape.”

  “What about the Somerton boy?”

  Janet blinked. “What about him?”

  “He might be with Chambers and the asset, too.”

  “So what?”

  Ethan shrugged. “He could provide a way to get to the asset. If we can find him, he could serve as bait.”

  “You mean like his parents are proving to be such good bait?”