Layla gripped the edge of the other hatch and eased it open along its squeaking rails. A ray of sunlight burst through the gap.
Across the grassy area seventy yards away, three hover-bikes sat by the edge of the forest. She briefly saw the edge of a croatoan behind a tree before it quickly vanished.
Gregor nudged her out of the way. He dropped to one knee and aimed his rifle. “Get behind me. If I’m hit, take the rifle and carry on the fight.”
Layla stood to one side. Ben peered over the man’s shoulder, revolver in his right hand.
“What are the aliens packing?” the man said.
“Similar to our conventional weapons. Guns, grenades, that sort of the stuff,” Gregor said.
“No cannons or those guns that flatten small houses?”
“Those soldiers aren’t around here,” Layla said.
“Are you sure?” the man said. “I saw one of their fighters yesterday. First time in years. If the aliens get in touch with that thing…”
“If it was coming for us, we’d know about it,” Gregor said.
Layla wasn’t so sure. If the hunter was under Augustus’s command, he could give it a new mission. There was nothing stopping the croatoans outside from identifying their location.
Gregor’s grip tensed around his rifle. Layla looked over his shoulder.
An alien scuttled from behind a tree toward the hover-bike she’d previously parked. It stopped a few yards short, took a silver ball from its belt, and threw it.
Gregor fired.
The croatoan clutched its torso and slouched to one side. Its grenade exploded with a hollow pop, creating a cloud of white smoke.
Gregor aimed at the shroud as it slowly cleared, drifting away on the gentle breeze. The blast shunted the bike onto its side. The alien lay flat on its back, helmet blown clear by the force of the explosion.
“Nice shot. One down,” Layla said.
She’d never expected to hear herself utter those words.
“Two to go. And I can’t see them,” Gregor said. “Anyone else?”
A loud thud shook the building. Layla instinctively ducked. Flecks of paint dropped from the ceiling.
“What the hell was that?” Ben said.
“Sounds like they’re next door,” the man said.
“Joe. Get down here,” a voice called up the stairs.
“Sorry guys. They want me downstairs,” the man said.
He shrugged and hurried away.
“We could make a run for the bikes,” Ben said.
“It’d be a turkey shoot,” Gregor said. “We stay. Our hosts have offered to be the first line of defense.”
The building shuddered again after another internal boom. Layla pressed herself against the wall. “What if the croatoans kill them? Use grenades in here?
Gregor rubbed his chin and looked around the room. “Stack the mattresses in the corner. Do it.”
Layla grabbed the edge of the closest and dragged it to the end of the room. Its filthy gray blanket slithered off. She kicked it away.
Ben had already placed one in the corner at an angle. Layla stacked hers against it. He slid a third mattress across the floor and said, “This won’t protect us. You saw what—”
“Do you have any better suggestions?” Gregor said.
After Layla completed the barricade, she returned to the gap in the left window. Ben paced around the room, mumbling to himself.
The three hover-bikes still sat in position by the trees. Another cut through the sky, it must’ve been the fourth one, circling their position.
Something moved outside, close to the building. Flicking in and out of Layla’s line of vision.
She sprang on her toes, tried to get a better angle. The position of the hatch wouldn’t allow it. “I think they’re outside the door.”
A shotgun blast and two pistol cracks came from directly below.
Croatoan weapons started snapping.
“Fuck this,” Gregor said. He slammed his shoulder against the boarded-up window. It crunched into the plywood, splitting it horizontally across the middle. Gregor kicked the bottom section away and leaned his rifle out.
Ben jumped behind the barricade, holding his revolver over the top of the mattresses.
An alien grenade exploded. Gregor flew back, skidding on his backside, clutching one side of his face. Smoke coiled through the window.
Screams of pain came up the stairs, punctuated by the firing of croatoan weapons until both abruptly stopped.
Layla ran over to the makeshift barricade and slid behind it, next to Ben.
Gregor moved to the side of the stairway entrance and crouched with his rifle shouldered.
He put his finger to his lips. The slap of boots on concrete started to echo up the stairs. Gregor nodded with every slow, deliberate step as if mentally counting. Blood trickled down the side of his face.
Ben’s hands shook as he held the pistol forward.
A croatoan boot appeared through the entrance.
Gregor dropped to his back and fired five times. He rolled away and covered his ears. Layla ducked behind the mattress. She grabbed Ben’s shoulder and pulled him down.
The building vibrated after a thumping boom. Smoke gushed into the room, leaving a sour taste at the back of Layla’s throat.
Silence followed.
She climbed over the barricade and approached Gregor. He sat up and dusted himself down. Layla went to touch his wound. He jerked his head away.
“Are you okay?” Layla said.
“Fine. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“What happened?” Ben said. “Did you get them?”
“Shot them both. The front one had a grenade ready to go.”
Layla squinted. The smoke stung her eyes. She pulled her sweater over her nose and mouth and followed Gregor downstairs.
Near the bottom, she stepped over the twisted figures of two dead croatoans into a room bathed in light. The entrance door had been blown off its hinges. A body lay underneath.
Gregor grasped Layla by the shoulder. “Don’t look to your left. You don’t need to see this.”
She focused outside. Gregor pointed his rifle upwards and dashed out, turning amongst the weeds, looking up through his sights. Ben joined him and searched the sky.
Layla tentatively joined them. There was no sign of the previously circling croatoan. She approached the alien by the overturned bike. Its weapon lay a few feet away in the knee-length grass.
She picked it up, pointed it toward the forest, and pulled the trigger. It easily depressed like she was squeezing a tube of toothpaste. The alien rifle kicked against her chest as a projectile whistled out and thumped against a tree.
Gregor ducked. “Be careful with that.”
“I’m not going through another situation unarmed,” Layla said.
He appreciatively grunted and started heading for the forest.
“Where are we going?” Ben said.
“Away from here. Who knows what might turn up next? I’m not waiting to find out,” Gregor said.
“We could take the hover-bikes,” Ben said, gesturing to the three parked by the forest’s edge.
Gregor spun and grabbed Ben by the scruff of his neck. “Do you want to end up like Marek? Do you?”
He pushed Ben away. Ben stumbled after him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I just…”
For the next hour, they picked their way through dense, slimy undergrowth. Gregor probably chose the route to provide cover. Layla breathed hard, swiping away branches and kicking away weeds that knotted around her feet.
They eventually hit a former road. Gregor leaned against a rusting SUV and wiped sweat from his brow. He gazed into the distant sky at the thin outline of the mother ship. This was probably the first time he had to stop and think about Marek. Layla decided to leave him to his own thoughts.
She shuddered at the thought of a new alien hulk in the sky. An instrument of death that would shortly bring about their demise. They had to do something.