Darren Wearmouth: Critical Dawn

It seemed to take an eternity, but eventually, a second explosion roared out as both ships crashed into the earth. Although they fell beyond the horizon, they could still see the cloud rise into the sky from the impact. Denver felt it too in the ground, the ripples feeling much like an earthquake. It reminded him of the stories Charlie had told him about what it felt like when one of their infernal machines created a sinkhole.

“Payback, you bastards,” Denver whispered as he picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He walked off, leaving the other three behind.

“Hey, wait,” Maria said. “Where you going?”

Without turning back, Denver said, “To the next farm. Freedom starts here.”

The smell of fire was thick in the air even hours after the initial impact. Denver approached his truck and slid into the driver’s seat. Pip appeared out of nowhere, having scarpered to safety hours earlier. She curled up in the middle space between the front seats and placed her head on his leg. She whined mournfully.

“I know, girl. I know.”

Denver patted her on the head, smoothing her fur, all the while trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. He couldn’t break down now. His dad would want him to go on, finish what he started, and that was just what he was going to do. Even if he had to do it on his own.

The engine fired, and he reversed the truck out from its hidden position within a tight group of bushes, backing it onto a dirt track that would lead out of the forest. He slammed on the brakes as he saw a silhouette appear in his rearview mirror.

Reaching for the pistol he kept in the door tray, Denver wound down the window and looked out. The shape moved toward him in the evening gloom. He opened the door with his free hand while keeping the pistol low, ready to fire.

The person crunched twigs and leaves as they approached the driver’s side. Denver raised the gun and was about to shoot when a voice called out to him.

“Denver, it’s me, Maria. Don’t shoot!”

He lowered the gun immediately as she stepped close enough for him to see that it was her. “You followed me? I thought you’d stay with the others at the farm.”

“There was a change of plan,” Maria said, smiling.

More movement came from behind him as two more people stepped out of the shadows. “Layla, Gregor?”

Gregor grinned when he stepped forward, placing his arm over Maria’s shoulders. “Your lady here seems to think we ought to stick together. Now don’t get me wrong. I still don’t like you, but you don’t seem too much like your old man, and I like the way you shoot. What say we pool our resources?”

“What about all the people on the farm? The pregnant women?”

“Taken care of,” Layla said. “Alex was okay, just got knocked out. She’s staying behind to look after them. No point moving them if they’re comfortable there. The plan is to join up with Eastern Farm Twenty a hundred kilometers from here. They’ve got reinforcements. We just need to get word and start the fight back.”

Denver saw an excited look in Layla’s eyes, not at the death of yet more aliens, but at the thought of freeing more people. Gregor’s expression just seemed bloodthirsty, as usual, but every resistance needed its psychopaths to do the jobs ordinary people with morals wouldn’t be comfortable doing.

He thought about it for a moment. The three of them stared at him expectantly, waiting for his decision.

That’s when it dawned on him.

It was his resistance now. He was the one to lead this.

Instead of that prospect frightening him, it gave him a new shot of energy. After all, it was what his dad, Charlie Jackson, the Last True American, had spent all his time teaching Denver: how to be him. How to be the survivor. How to never give up and never stop until humankind was once again free from tyranny.

“Get in,” Denver said. “We leave now.”

Maria walked around and got into the front passenger seat. Gregor and Layla jumped into the rear after stashing a bunch of weapons in the truck bed.

Denver looked at Maria and smiled. “I’m glad you followed me,” he said.

“Me too.”

He held her gaze for a few seconds before turning to the others in the back. Talking to everyone now, he said with a grim tone, “Did everyone see what I saw before the initial explosion?”

They stared back at him in silence. Eventually, Maria asked, “What? What did you see?”

“At first I thought they were bits of debris, perhaps from the initial explosion, but their trajectory was all wrong. I only realized after, once the shock wore off. There were six of them. Pods, crafts, whatever you want to call them. Either way, some of the bastards up there escaped and came to Earth. Probably digging into the ground as we speak to recuperate. Well, we’re not going to let them this time.”

Denver turned back to face the front and engaged first gear. “This time, we’re going to hunt them down and murder the bastards in the dirt before they think about rising again.”

With that, he floored the accelerator and headed out into the night, promising to himself he’d do his dad proud. One way or another, the aliens would regret ever coming to Earth.

We would like to thank our cover designer, Jason Gurley, and our editors, Aaron Sikes, Monique Happy and Amanda Shore. Also, big thank you to everyone who agreed to read an early copy and give us your thoughts. Collectively, you’ve all helped make this a better book.

Thank you!

Two heads are often better than one. Darren Wearmouth and Colin F. Barnes joined forces in 2013 to write thrilling tales of science and adventure with characters we can all relate to. Exploring the ‘what if’ scenarios of the post-apocalypse and where advanced technology will takes us, Wearmouth & Barnes seek to bring unique experiences to readers.

Website: http://www.wearmouthbarnes.com

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This edition published in 2014 by WBP

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this work are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity is purely coincidental.

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