“This isn’t giving up; it’s what defending armies do when confronted by a greater force. We can’t face this head on. They have the weapons and they have the numbers. It’s time for the Republican Guard to fade back into the population, preserve their numbers, and prepare for the resistance.”
Not missing the reference to the invasion of Iraq, Masterson looked back at Clem. “I know you said you were some sort of cop at one time, but really, who the hell are you?”
“I’m just a tired old man with too many scars.”
Masterson looked Clem in the eye, frustration showing on his face. “That’s it then? I tell them to hide and wait it out?”
Clem shook off the comment and reached into a side pocket of his oilskin jacket. He pulled out a stainless steel flask and removed the cap, putting the neck to his nose before taking a long sip. He pursed his lips and grinned before passing the flask to Masterson.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about this since day one. The meteorites, the Day of the Darkness; that was just to soften us up, make us weak and destroy our defenses, get us to tighten up behind walls. Hell… and that’s exactly what we did, just like they expected us to. We consolidated our forces, our people.”
Masterson took a sip and held back a burning cough. He nodded. “That’s what we did at Meaford and similar places across the globe, barricaded behind walls.”
Clem pointed at him. “And you know what else? Look at the way we abandoned our conventional weapons, tanks, and fighter aircraft when we lost the airfields and oil reserves. That’s all gone now with the waves of those Deltas. We settled in for a long war with them, and now look.
“Then came the first of those damn balloons soaring overhead, positioning themselves like landing craft in the English Channel. The way they hit the ground with the bombs, destroying population centers and bases, once again softening us up before landing their troops. And look at them now, the lack of aircraft, not a single drone. Why is that?”
Masterson shrugged as he drank again this time more heavily, straining to keep up with the old man’s thoughts. He held in the liquid and shrugged before passing back the flask.
“Because they don’t have any, that’s why. I think they’re stuck here. These aren’t Viking raiders, these are Roman conquerors; hell, pilgrims even, and we’re the Indians this time. I don’t think they’re much different from us, maybe some new gadgets and tricks to kill us, but I’d imagine their tech is nothing outrageous; if it was, we’d already be dead.
“Those were drop ships, and—I believe—on a one-way trip at that. Those things aren’t here to steal shit from our planet and leave. Nope, that’d be too simple. They’re here for the planet. They’re here to colonize. They want it all, and best I figure, they aren’t leaving.”
Masterson laughed. “And what do you plan to do about it?”
“I sure as hell won’t surrender, and we’re dead if we all stay bunched up like this. Maybe in small teams we’ve got a chance.” Clem chuckled. “I’ve been watching their movements, and they’ve all come from and returned to the same direction. I think one of those drop ships landed close to here and set up a base. I’m going to see if I can find it.”
“And if you do?”
Clem smiled. “Well, hopefully kill a bunch of them and live long enough to brag about it over a jar of homemade shine,” he said, taking another long sip and passing the flask back. “How about you, Matt? You think you got another war left in you?”
The old soldier grinned. “You know, Clem, I’ve been fighting on the other side my entire life; guess it’s time to see how the gorillas do it.”
Chapter Seventy
Laura tried to remain calm; she put on a strong face for Katy, who was completely unaware of their situation and enjoying the new surroundings. The home was warm and clean, she found the kitchen lightly stocked with food, the refrigerator held a metallic pitcher of water, and there was even bread on the counter. All the drawers and cupboards were empty of china or glass, supplied instead with a set of plastic plates and cups.
Laura searched the old house, finding closets cleaned out, dresser drawers empty. Moving from room to room, every window was sealed shut, and every door locked from the outside. She entered the small bathroom and tried the faucets, finding the water hot. “How can this be? What is this place?”
A knock at the front door, followed by the clunk of the lock, frightened her. She rushed from the bathroom and took a position between Katy and the entrance. The door slowly opened, revealing the smiling face of the short Frenchman. “Sorry to alarm you, Mrs. Anderson, it is time for reception.”
Laura backed away, lifting an arm to shield Katy behind her. “Francis, I don’t understand why you are doing this. Just let us go.”
The man looked at her with a shocked expression. “Go? Why would you wish to leave? Where would you go, the camps? Would you prefer that over a warm home and the food you have been provided? Is that what you would prefer for your child?”
“I had that before—”
“And you have it now. Please, Mrs. Anderson, it would be unwise to decline reception. It is required, and not attending will have consequences.”
Laura backed away, getting closer to Katy.
“They would take her from you,” the man said, looking to Katy. “Please, just do as they ask. You’ll see; it gets easier.”
“How do you know, Francis? Why do you trust them?”
“What’s not
