Chapter Thirteen
Charlie halted Ben and Ethan, brought them behind a large tree. Its trunk was at least twenty feet in diameter. Up ahead, Denver and Maria, with Pip following close behind, had stopped and gestured to the others.
They were heading east out of the forest. Charlie knew it as Allegheny National Forest, Pennsylvania. During his exploration of the area in previous years, he and Denver had come across an old hunting lodge.
Within the derelict shack, he’d found some brochures extolling the beauty of the forest. Back then, he was sure it was a national beauty full of wildlife and a wide variety of flora, but now, with the root in the atmosphere and the croatoan terraforming after the frozen years, a new arrival had appeared: a croatoan tree that looked like a redwood but grew like a weed.
The brackens and hawthorns had a weird look to them too and excreted a waxy residue. He discovered it was a very useful waterproofing agent. Although the aliens were slowly terraforming the planet, there were some benefits to the things that they were growing.
The root had plenty of uses, healing being one of them. Charlie doubted he’d be as physically fit and strong as he was without learning how to distill the oil from the root. Still, those gifts paled into a pathetic joke compared to what was lost.
“How you kids doing?” Charlie asked as he waited for Denver to return to him.
“Good, I think,” Ethan said, rubbing his collar. “It’s healing fast.”
“I can barely feel it now,” Ben said.
“Yup. The root is handy like that.”
“Is that why the aliens are harvesting it?” Ethan asked, seemingly over his frustration and getting into the spirit of learning how to survive.
“Among other reasons,” Charlie said. “It’s difficult to really know. I just don’t have the information. But there’s a…” how could he put it without freaking them out again? Human farming was not a subject that he had any easy way into, and he didn’t want to get into it now with the sun setting and the croatoans probably not far behind them.
The beads felt heavy in his pocket. They seemed to gain mass when they were transmitting, but he knew it was just gravity. It still wasn’t natural, he thought.
“You were saying?” Ben said.
“There’s a facility to the east of here. A center of operations if you will. There’s a number of the aliens there along with human… sympathizers who work on their behalf. They’ve been shipping the root harvest up to a mother ship via shuttles for the past few years. But this year is different.”
“Different how?” Ben asked.
“I don’t know exactly. The crop is different, more potent. They’ve upped their harvesting, and the air… It’s not right.”
Charlie ended it there as Denver and the others joined them. Pip nestled into Charlie’s leg and licked at his hand as he stroked the dog’s neck. Despite himself, he thought of his Pippa back before the uprising.
Ironically, she wasn’t a dog person, preferring the company of cats.
His thoughts were probably due to Maria. She had a fragile strength to her like Pippa. Although she looked soft on the outside, he could tell she possessed a desire to survive. She wasn’t afraid of her emotions like the others.
“There’s one patrol,” Denver said. “They’re already on the other side of the river. We’re good to go.”
“Okay,” Charlie said, gathering everyone in. “Listen carefully. What comes next is particularly dangerous. Don’t speak even when prompted. Let me and Denver deal with them.”
Ethan opened his mouth to ask a question, but Charlie carried on, wanting to get on with things. “I want you all to follow Denver as soon as we’ve broken cover. I’ll take the beads.”
“What are you going to do?” Ben asked.
“Let’s say that our galactic friends will have a little surprise waiting for them. I’ll rejoin you once I’m done. Den, you know what to do?”
Denver nodded. “I’ll keep to the north side, don’t worry.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Charlie said, looking at the others.
“What?” Maria said, stepping forward. “Have we not shown you trust? We’ve done everything you’ve asked.”
“I’m not talking about you lot. Just stick with Denver, and keep those weapons at the ready. Okay, Den, these are all yours. I’ll catch up with you in ten minutes tops.”
With that, Charlie left the others behind and darted into the darkening forest.
A few minutes later, he reached what used to be the edge, but the alien-influenced flora didn’t stop on the threshold anymore. It carried right on into the town once known as Ridgway.
The trees and bushes plagued the town like a slow swarm of locusts. Branches and ferns and ivy covered almost all available surfaces. The old blacktop on Main Street had broken up. Mosses and other lichens had colonized the surface, making it slick underfoot.
Charlie oriented himself by the layout of the ruins.
To his right, he could just about see the tops of a series of warehouses.
The Clarion River flowed parallel to the street. The water was thick and brackish and like the air, under certain light, had taken on an orange cast.
To his left, the small, low buildings of dwellings were just visible through the trees and vines. Small pockets of lights, drum fires, and candles glittered behind grimy windows deep in the foliage.
He and Denver had seen a group of survivors in the town the last time they were here. It gave him a little sense of hope that they appeared to still be here, still surviving, which made him feel guilty about bringing the beads here.
The croatoans would come. Hopefully, the human survivors would have the sense to hide and put out their fires when they heard that dread-whine of the hover-bikes.
Further along Main Street, Charlie came into the center of town. The river had changed course and headed north, going under a bridge. Charlie crossed it until he came to an area where the vegetation wasn’t as thick.
Rows of houses stood like rotten teeth. Their roofs had long collapsed, and the ice damage had crumbled most of the walls, but among the damage, there were one or two that remained—or at least had been rebuilt, patched up, and saved.
Finding an ideal spot, a large warehouse unit with an alley leading down to the side, Charlie removed the beads from his pocket and a cube of C4 from his backpack.
He had salvaged the explosives from his old Army base where he’d spent a few years in his childhood as a National Guardsman. Although he was running low, he could spare some for this.
He found an old, rusted dumpster, its insides now home to a range of flora. He placed the beads on top of the C4 and covered it with a series of fern leaves behind the dumpster. He inserted a blasting cap into the plastic explosive and wired up a trigger to a trip wire, which he ran across the narrow alley. In the gloom, no one would detect it.
The only worry he had was that some idiot survivor might wander in and set it off before the croatoans tracked the bead’s signal.
On his way back out, Charlie heard a series of raised voices in argument and the barking of a dog—Pip.
Seemed Denver had found the survivors.
Charlie put his backpack on and took the knife from his belt and headed further into the town toward the voices. Whatever it was about, they needed to shut the hell up before the damned aliens turned up.
Further into the town, the foliage gave way a little to brick and concrete. Some of the old multistory brick buildings had survived, mostly on account of being solidly attached to each other, providing mutual shelter from the encroaching trees.
Denver and the others were surrounded by a ragtag group of post-thaw survivors. Their torches flickered in the dark sky, illuminating the red and cream brick of a substantial building. An old iron cannon, its black paintwork now peeling with rust, kept guard out on the grass in front.