“Looks like they skip leg day,” James said, moving closer. He pointed at the creature’s lower body, which appeared scrawny in comparison to the barrel chest.
“What are you doing?” Jacob asked.
Behind them, the fire around the downed chopper grew, the dry grass of the field and nearby woods now in flames. Rogers pointed in the direction of the helicopter. “We can’t hang out here, the woods are going up,” he shouted.
“I want to see what they look like,” James said.
“What?”
“These things… I want to see their faces.”
Rogers moved close and looked past them, posting himself at a standing watch. Unable to hold his own curiosity, he nodded the okay. “Hurry up then; get it done.”
The bearded soldier probed and tugged at the corpse’s armor. Duke paced back and forth restlessly, the scent of the beings still close in the air. Looking for a zipper or a way into the uniform, James rolled the thing over. He slunk back and looked down at his hands, now covered in bright red blood. “Well, they certainly bleed like us,” he said.
“Well, they ain’t us, so don’t go getting attached,” Rogers scorned, showing his impatience.
James found a locking fastener at the back of the creature’s neck. With some struggle, he was able to break its grip. As he pulled down on the fastener, the fabric relaxed and loosened over the body. Soon it was so loose it draped off of the thing’s shoulder blades, revealing a dull gray flesh covered in thick scales. When James went to touch the skin, the creature tried to rise, its back suddenly convulsing. Dropping down with force, James pressed a knee between the thing’s shoulder blades and pinned it to the ground, listening to the alien wheeze its last breath.
He let off the pressure and rolled it to its back. The suit’s grip released the helmet, allowing it to be easily lifted out of place from a locking collar and revealing a humanoid head. All the features of a human, its head was bald, the expressionless face showing evenly spaced eyes below perfect eyebrows, its lips thin and pressed tightly together.
“What the fuck? He looks just like us,” Jacob gasped.
James pressed a finger into a hole just below the thing’s collar bone. “Well, they weren’t prepared for projectile weapons. If I had to take a guess, this blue suit works great against their ray guns.”
“Energy weapons,” Jacob added, reaching down to recover and examine the creature’s rifle. It was simple in design from his engineer’s vantage—a long cylinder that fit over the wearer’s forearm and a lever mechanism fired the bolt. A series of red and blue lights shone brightly at the base, probably displaying the charge or weapon’s strength. “It makes sense not to use projectiles—not having to replace a bullet—these things are probably rechargeable.”
Looking down, Rogers shook his head. “So our body armor is useless against this blue shit. And their suits don’t work against our rifles.”
“Perfect matchup,” James said sarcastically.
A low moan near the burning block house alerted them. Before Jacob could turn, Duke bounded through the field toward its source. His bark was different, more of a high pitched whine. He whimpered and stopped at a form near the building’s porch, the dog’s tail wagging frantically as he circled the figure. The men rushed ahead, finding a crumpled man struggling to stand. When he turned to face them, Jacob saw the bloodied bandage on the man’s neck and the mournful face of Jesse Winslow.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Wind blew through the trees, causing the upper branches to sway, the ends rattling as they touched. The light was fading, the sun’s last rays casting orange slivers through naked trees. She could hear the cries echoing through the forest; other survivors, lost and alone, the same as her. She debated reaching out, searching for them; strength in numbers she thought. They ran through the forest, scattered and afraid. She listened to the rifle fire and the screams all around her. Looking at her pack filled with meager supplies and thinking about the way the others had enviously looked at her rifle, she thought otherwise. She did not know them, or if they could be trusted.
Laura lay hidden in the foliage of a dry creek bed, the vegetation too sparse to completely shelter her. A place where the ground dropped swiftly, the bank created an overhang that she was able to crawl into. A trail ran above her. If she held out, Jacob would return, and he would find them. Laura’s heart still thudded away anxiously in her chest. She pulled the collar of her shirt up over her mouth to cover the sounds of heavy breathing, and to conceal the cloud of condensation that marked her position. Katy’s face was buried in her hip; Laura could feel the warmth of her body pressed against her.
A curtain of roots hung down above her head. She heard the rustling and breaking of branches on the ground above—someone, or something, was stalking the trail. Laura’s back was to the base of roughly packed dirt surface while tall grass and reeds surrounded the space directly to her front. She pushed the pack against the mound of earth so that it sheltered Katy from the wind channeling up the creek bed. As the noise above her grew louder, she cradled the rifle across her lap, allowing the end of the barrel to rest on her knees.
“Mama,” Katy whispered.
Laura dropped a hand to the girl’s head, cupping it, and brought her face down to meet her daughter’s. “We have to be quiet now, okay?”
Trembling, Katy pursed her lips and pressed her face tighter to Laura’s hip, her breathing barely audible. There was a crunching in the dry leaves above, then a whooshing through the air. A creature with long legs crashed into the dry creek
