The Uninvited (The Julianna Rae Chronicles Book 1) (22 page)

0200 HOURS.

THE NEW CAMP, WEST OF THE SECTORS.

The first thing Bas knew of the ambush were the headlights jumping through the trees at full speed and opening fire from the back of the Jeep from an assault rifle, cutting down anyone who dared move from the shadows. The clearing had served well, though, the Jeep was center to their squad and bullets rang over his head. He ducked, while the ammunition whistled past his cheek and cut down the driver and gunner in seconds.

They had the place surrounded. Bas peered from where he laid, sniper rifle in hand, and waited. The long grass covered his body and the ditch they had dug sunk them farther from initial attack.

Devo looked across nervously and he gave her a firm nod to pull up and move to her next position behind him. He didn’t want the risk tonight, not with her, and so she pulled up to offer him cover as he lined his sights for the next oncoming vehicle.

It came booming through, with a second vehicle for support. Both gunners turned their guns on the camp as the hover drones formed single-files through the trees, scanning for rises in temperature. Bas let a shrill whistle go. His first gunner fired over his direction, showering bullets from behind, and Devo took her first man out. Bas looked back and gave her another nod before lining his sniper scope for the hover drone furthermost from the battle. He wanted to give the enemy an impression of being surrounded while he had the advantage of cover.

He looked down his scope, a prize he had won when gambling with an officer in Sector Three on a leave pass. Caden had told him to have a good time, and he had. It was the first date Katherine and he had taken, and though she was on official duties, with him accompanying her for safety, the unintended happened and he never looked back with regret.

The hover drone was in his sights. The crosshairs guided the first round into the red flashing light, spinning its lost balance into the two drones in front. He peered above the rifle to watch the midair explosion and gave another shrill whistle, accompanied by a wave of his hand. He was signaling for his company to fall forward while they had the advantage.

That was for Katherine.

He didn’t love her. For him, that was a stretch, but he cared about her. Cared deeply. Their first night together was the happiest he’d been in a long time and he was on cloud nine for a long time after
. Until the mission,
he thought.
Stupid, freaking mission.
Man enough to admit war and pleasure didn’t mix well, man enough to admit it was his call to send Katherine into the arms of Taris. Man enough to admit her blood was on his hands and not Julianna’s.

He wiped the sweat from his eyes with the crook of his elbow. The gunners saw the move for what it was and opened fire again. The sickening sounds of bullets rang as bodies were hit. Thwaaat-thuds and then the bodies were falling down in a tidy row, one after another.

A younger member of the Rebellion Company fell beside him, his eyes still open and gazing at his Commander, gasping for air from the gaping rip in his neck. Bas watched him for what seemed an eternity as he passed over, before turning his attention to the one responsible. He lined his sights again and pulled the trigger. The gunner fell from the Jeep, his driver ducked, and silence ensued as the enemy aimed their infrared at the lethal sniper.

Bas loaded again, aimed and fired. The second driver slumped over and the firing resumed as the drones were called in for a closer pursuit.

That was for Katherine, too, fuckers.

There were four more drones hovering; more would follow to offer their support. Bas took two out before they discovered his heat signature in his self-made trench. All firearms were aimed in his direction now, and he could see the drones approaching as he rolled onto his back and moved farther into the ditch for cover. Devo exchanged worried looks with him and he gave her a four-fingered signal. She shook her head and raised her hand to show five fingers. Five fingers meant five more drones.

He checked his ammo, and he counted three rounds left before he would need to pull his sidearm. He looked up at the sky; it offered no solace.

Where the fuck is Cade?

Devo commando-crawled to his side, using the fallen body as cover, just as he had taught her, but Bas was pissed. She was meant to stay to his back and he’d promised Katie to keep her safe; there was no need for her to be so close when they had made his location. They raised their weapons together, Devo offering a deflective so he could get a good visual on the other drones. Again, he aimed for the back one, and again the predictability of the crafts was a blessing. It hovered for a moment, suspended by an invisible spring as the bullet ricocheted inside its metal casing, and it took out the drones to the front. It was a known fault to bounce forward when struck by something sudden. Bas was playing it to his advantage.

More Jeeps followed. Grunts approached under their cover and Bas knew it was time to retreat. The unmistakable whirs of more hover drones were in the distance, and only a miracle could to get them out of this one. His crew would need to charge and he knew the risk of mass losses, but it was their only chance of pushing through without capture. As he contemplated this – and his missing brother – the youngest star of the team edged along the first Jeep to capture it.

Bas heard Devo speak and he followed her sight to the Jeep in front where Christopher, was skulking about. No one else had seen him, only them.

‘What are you doing, son?’ Bas whispered, his voice was full of remorse.

Bastiaan watched on as the events unfolded in slow motion. The dark-haired boy, barely fifteen, pushed his back against the Jeep tire for cover. His rifle slung over his shoulder, his sidearm was still strapped to his thigh, and he held his dagger tight in his sweaty fist.

Bas raised his scope and watched through it. Chris nodded to him, as any man would before going in for a kill in war, but this was no man. Bas had found him hunkered down in the debris of a burnt-out house beside his mother’s charcoaled remains. His father had been a Militia traitor, siding with the Rebels and exchanging details when he could. He had been one of the founding contacts when they first established the outlying camp, and it was him who’d put them into contact with their missing friend, Isis. Chris had been thirteen going fourteen when Bas carried the sobbing boy in his arms to the safe house. Now he was watching this boy stumble along into a manhood, which might only last him moments.

Chris took his first step into the Jeep, keeping low. The last hover drone floated in the front lines and spun angrily in his direction with its red laser flashing quickly. It was preparing for an attack. Bas raised his sights and pulled the trigger before it fired its laser at Chris and the drone crashed to the ground with nothing in front to attract it forward. It was the golden opportunity for a boy to become a man. Chris leapt behind the assault rifle and spun it around on its perch to cut down all those who were standing.

Bas gave another whistle and a commanding wave of his hand. He heard footsteps running behind him to attack instantaneously. Tonight held out for miracles, after all, and he bounded up on his haunches to run with his camp for a full-on attack against enemies left standing.

Chris continued to fire the rounds. The grunts were falling and Bas had taken out the last front line drone. Things were looking up. He wished Caden had the chance to witness the unfolding events, as the camp attacked with all their hearts to defend the only freedoms they had left.

Bas approached the last grunt, walking quickly and front-on. The bewildered soldier stood frozen, waiting for Bastiaan’s elbow to connect with his chin. He collapsed onto his knees with his hands in the mud. He didn’t feel a thing as Bastiaan’s hand grabbed at his hair while his other hand ran his blade across the soldier’s neck, cutting it from one ear to the other.

The final shots rang out. There was an eerie silence across the field and into the trees as everyone stood with weapons perched in their hands. Two more shots fired; Devo held her gun high as the bullets connected with the enemy commanding officer’s head. Bas turned. He saw why she fired.

Chris knelt in the Jeep, with his hand still perched on the trigger. The boy who’d become a man was the last one shot, and he was mortally wounded. Bas dropped his weapon. His feet pushed hastily into the dirt to run. He jumped into the Jeep to catch the fallen hero. The others, victorious and silent, circled the vehicle as he lifted Chris up and took him from the car to lay him on the ground. Bas searched for his wounds. There were too many to heal, too many bullets in his chest filling his lungs with lead. Chris had been hit too many times in his moment of glory. He was only a boy in Bastiaan’s arms.

‘It doesn’t hurt so much,’ he whispered.

Bas shook his head. ‘Sure it does, kid. You’re just tough as nails.’

‘I know you can’t bury me.’ Chris leaned his head to the side, and opened his mouth for the rising blood to flow out.

‘We’ll party like there’s no tomorrow in your honor. How’s that sound?’ Bas held the boy, cradling his head like he was his own son. ‘Damn, Chris, you saved us tonight. You’re a real hero, my man.’

Chris smiled a bloody smile and then his eyes widened before they grew dark. Bas lowered his head and Devo sobbed.

He laid Chris down on the grass, and stood in front of the camp. Surveying the grounds, there were as many dead as standing.

‘We need to move out,’ Bas ordered. ‘Grab what weapons you can, salvage what’s possible. We go by bike only.’ Bas reached for Devo and took her close. ‘You ride with me.’ He kissed the top of her head and gazed down upon Chris for one more parting gesture.

He called out to no one in particular: ‘Someone grab Cade’s bike and guitar. He’ll be pissed if we leave it behind.’

‘I’ll get it’ came back to him from a distance and then the sounds of bike engines roared in unison.

Bas led them along the dirt road, cautiously trailing out to the highway. He perched at the crossroads, looking both ways, and an older watcher approached him. Devo listened as she held tightly onto Bas’s jacket; Bas said he wanted to move city bound, just for a few miles, to look out for his brother and Julianna.

Reluctantly, the other agreed they couldn’t leave Caden to walk into another potential ambush alone, and so they turned southbound, with the city ahead and the countryside behind them, travelling in a silence awash with grief. The wind in the trees and the bikes humming were all that was left, and it wasn’t long before they reached a rise in the road that allowed them to see the impending blockade ahead.

Bas sat back on his bike, killing the engine and ordering the others to do the same. He caught a glimpse of a bike doing the same in the distance on the other side, hidden in the trees. He thought one name.

Caden.

0310 HOURS.

WESTBOUND, HWY 86
.

If there was anything Julianna remembered from her days in the Family, she remembered this: never trust a watcher. The second thing was never trust a watcher who was pissed off, and the third was never trust a watcher who was pissed off with a vendetta against you. Taris was all those things and more, and the dull throb in her side was a reminder of the night passing.

She crouched in the tall grass with Caden and Daniel off to one side, and she was careful to stay close. The tension between them was becoming an issue; she only hoped they’d keep it together long enough to deal with the road block they were witnessing ahead.

Caden pulled a face at Daniel again and Julianna caught it. He was being juvenile. His eyes met her glance for a silent reprimand and they returned to their main objective.

The roadblock was well-laid and three men thick on every section, and with drones. She counted six. Without a miracle, those lines would remain. She glanced at Caden again; he was spent. Right now, he was a norm; all his strength wiped out from the rescue, hiding, and healing. And fighting – he’d been guilty of that, too.

Her mother had sat her down all those years ago to explain the difference between her uncle and her father, a walker and a watcher. Her father was a watcher and Doug was the lesser walker. That’s all she knew about the difference – and that watchers were the snakes of the preternatural world, incapable of love, but her father was different. He’d always treated her well and he’d loved her mother, she was sure of that.

Now Doug was dead, and Taris, without him on the Senate, was a law unto himself. The watchers now owned the NWO; the balance of powers had already shifted, and not for the better of the population. She wondered if the men beside her had thought of it too, or if they were quietly relieved that the balance swung in their watcher’s favor.

Never trust a watcher.

Caden glanced across and the thought melted away. For everything he and Daniel had risked in the last twenty-four hours, the advice her mother had parted seemed random and untrustworthy. After all, when she had been warning Julianna, she had been speaking about her own husband.

‘Suppose you don’t have any spare ammo?’ Daniel whispered to her. It was tongue in cheek, and he gave her a wink, knowing she only carried her knife; except she had no knife now. She had nothing and she gave him a shake of the head before losing her balance on her haunches.

Caden crept along the dirt to crouch beside her. His eyes narrowed and he nodded to the drones moving away from the lines.

She’d seen it, too. A faint glimmer of light hinted through the trees before it flicked off. Headlights. They were headlights from their camp. They had support.  

Caden reached deep into his pocket and she smiled at the box of .40 rounds still with him, half-full. Daniel saw it, too. The lid flipped and Daniel held enough to fill his magazine twice in a second. Caden slipped the box into his jacket pocket, and it stubbornly refused to submit. He gave it another push before turning his attention to the sidearm he held for reloading. He punched the magazine into his newly acquired Glock full of shining ammo.

‘You know how to pick the unwinnable fight,’ Daniel said. His magazine smacked into place and he lowered the gun to his side.

‘Unwinnable? Is that even a word, Danny?’ Caden teased. He looked out to the patrols, tightly formed and waiting for action. ‘Well.’ He pulled the slide back, readying the gun. ‘A fair fight isn’t an option right now and I want my damn camp back.’

‘I wanna get back to the city, but that’s not happening either,’ Daniel looked at Julianna. He didn’t like the odds at all.

‘I’m surprised you showed your freakin’ face after last time,’ Caden said under his breath. 

Julianna frowned at them, contemplating how she always surrounded herself with these temperamental creatures.

Caden crept forward, keeping lower than the grass and dropping behind a fallen tree for better sights on their odds. Julianna moved with him and Daniel organized himself with the rounds in his pocket, dropping some on the ground.

‘Who makes the first move?’ she asked. Daniel crawled alongside them. ‘I’m unarmed, by the way, so if you think I’m going in there with just my hands, think again.’

Caden held her knife blade out and winked. He waited for her to take it. The familiar weight of the blade pressed into her hand and he gave her a knowing tilt of the head. The knife was her comfort, one of the few left in her world of chaos. A comfort he was responsible for and she wondered if he knew. He nodded again, and raised his eyes above their concealment to see if their situation had changed.

The Jeeps’ rifles pointed in their direction and they all quickly ducked behind the log. The lasers danced above their heads, scattering across the dead wood and for a split second one rested on Daniel’s neck.

‘We’re fucked,’ Daniel whispered. He moved and the laser disappeared. She let go of her breath.

‘And if we’re not, you have a lot to answer to when this is all said and done, Danny boy.’

Julianna punched Caden in the arm. He glanced over. It didn’t hurt, but he pouted at her anyway. The lasers swung violently away from them, distracted.

The drones were returning, though she counted only two, and they swayed in their formation. Four were missing. The patrols lasers danced around, searching for the cause. The back line of officers broke across the road, stretching out and hunting for the culprit.

‘No time like the present,’ Caden said, and scuttled over the branch. The least wounded drone spun in his direction. 

He flattened to the ground. She could see him weighing the situation. The blockade had their capture and kill orders. The two hover drones struggled in their flight, buzzing clumsily left to right over the soldiers and back again, keeping the line secure, communicating with each other over the readings they’d taken. The foot soldiers waited with their rifles ready, pointing down an empty road and the autos propped in the Jeeps, searching.

What we need is some bait.
Her thought turned both men in her direction; Caden glared and Daniel shook his head. She contemplated it. She contemplated it hard and her body screamed out the dangers she was tempting.  

She crawled past Caden. His hand curled around her ankle and pulled her back. He was mouthing
no
with black eyes boring down at her. He shook his head again, but his grasp was easy to kick away and she stood to capture the drone’s attention.

The drones were quick to circle when she stepped onto the road with her hands held high, but all she could think about was his reaction. If it was Isis’s intention for her to follow his command in his camp, she just threw it out the proverbial window. 

She walked in small, deliberate footsteps, slowly raising her arms higher above her head. The patrols aimed their rifles and the autos spun to her direction. Her knees shook and her head rang a dull thud between the ears.

Not now. Please, not now, not right now,
she whispered to her headache.

The senior officer left his ranks and squared her feet. He smiled. His teeth were crooked and his lips thin. He reminded her of the nocturno with his pale complexion, but large – very large – build. The night creatures. He was one of them; his soldiers were too. Known for their violent natures and rarely played nice with other prets, they were the world’s version of the mythical vampire, bloodlust aside. Night creatures, which dwelled in darkness searching for prey, rarely sleeping and horrifically cruel. Taris had given this some thought.

‘You would not be so likely to turn yourself in so easily?’

They always spoke with a ridiculous tongue – backward. Smile for the monster, he’s watching. She shook her head and stepped into his space until there was nothing left between them. Her audience, enemy and ally alike, didn’t see her arm rush upward and inward. The nocturno looked down at the unfamiliar pull beneath his shirt. His yellow eyes bulged from their sockets and his crooked smiled winced as she pushed the knife in farther, knowing the sheer force would hold him steady and silent.

This was her revenge.

‘I can save you if you call off your dogs,’ she whispered, leaning in to his ear, barely reaching his height. ‘Your fearless leader is preoccupied, and I have my men surrounding you. What’s it to be?’

‘I fear no death you give to me, little red watcher girl from the hood.’

Blood spilt from his lips as he smiled. She’d gone into his belly too deep, had sliced something to make him bleed inside. The broken streams of blood ran down his chin between his sharp teeth. Her bluff was called; he accepted his death.

The click-click-click of safety catches released around her head as she looked around at the barrels and let the nocturno drop. He slipped away easily, slumping heavily beside her feet. Blood ran along the sharp blade, dripping freely against her pants and onto the ground.

‘You think your commanding officer will be pleased to hear I’m dead? I’m his prized prisoner, remember?’ She focused in on the closest patrol. He was young and not much bigger than her. 

He looked nervously between his comrades, stepping cautiously with one hand on the rifle and the other fumbling for cuffs.

She twirled the knife between her fingers, becoming in tune with the steel and its balance between tip and handle. It felt comfortable in her small hands, well-crafted, like all weapons from the Militia, and it flowed easily with the extension of her arm. She didn’t feel it cut. The young patrol dropped his rifle to catch the steady stream of blood forming on his neck.

The drones aimed their angry eyes, and every laser attuned to her chest. She looked around, searching for her comrades. She narrowed her eyes at the dark road where Bas lurked. Under the cover of the night, he waited somewhere with his squad. A rifle pointed into her chest, she raised her hands, waiting for someone to save her. The trigger cocked back – she studied the noc, his yellow eyes narrowing down on her, for killing his Commander. The sound of a whirring bullet ricocheted into a drone, and Caden’s gun fired straight between the noc’s eyes – it was the reassurance she needed.

It was impossible to tell the direction of guns firing, as she ran from the grasp of one patrol to another, swinging her knife as she went, but it was there. For a moment, she was clear. She spun around and ran out of the field, away from the face-to-face fighting, to witness the camp obliterated by the Jeeps’ weapons. As a last ditch attempt by the Militia, a soldier took up a position to man the machine guns, and it worked – everyone in the path dropped as he fired.

She crouched, frozen. The guns stopped firing and the man behind it collapsed. She stared, waiting for the blood from a bullet or something to give away his death but there was nothing. He slumped over the weapon, staring up into the sky.

An arm planted firmly on her shoulder and she spun around as it lifted her to her feet. Her blade tipped his neck in the scurry until she recognized Caden pulling his head from her weapon before moving on, gun cocked, to the next soldier. She took a moment, a split-second to understand her environment.

Her brief stint as bait worked. Everyone fought on even ground, hand-to-hand in combat. The Jeeps were disarmed and the hovers destroyed. She felt a bullet fly past her cheek and she dropped again into a low crouch and waited. Only a few loyal opponents fought to the end against Caden, Bastiaan and Daniel.

From the corner of her eye, Katherine Deveaux’s sister caught her attention.

Devo Sarah Deveaux’s hair tangled in a mess around a patrol’s hand, and he was dragging her into the thicket of trees behind the scurry. Her kicking and screaming fell silent in the battlefield, the already loud ruckus drowned what little fight she had as the perpetrator abandoned his post.

She was pretty, like her sister. Julianna saw the big blue eyes wide with terror, and the pale skin against her pouty lips. Her blonde hair was thick. It made the patrol’s task of dragging a lot easier.

Julianna leapt up and followed. He took her deep amongst the trees, away from the gunfire and the yelling. By the time he stopped in a clearing, the only thing heard was a loud breeze teasing the leaves. Julianna propped behind a tree, a faint echo of gunfire and Caden’s voice yelling, wavered between the forest branches.

Devo yelped. Julianna swung her stare to the girl who lay cautiously still as the noc stood over her, ready to swing again with his rifle. Blood formed in beads on her temple and trickled behind her ear. The noc swung his rifle again, stopping inches from her face, teasing her as she cringed into the mud.

Julianna crouched low and waited for his mistake.

‘I’ll do anything you want, I promise.’ Devo’s voice was smooth and calm and her lips hinted a smile. She moved to her knees, ignoring the pointed gun at her face, and began unbuttoning her shirt from the top, slowly working her delicate fingers down the material. The noc lowered his rifle and leaned his glance back. He struggled with his belt as he tried to do too many things at once, searching for anyone who might interrupt them. Devo continued to unbutton her shirt. The soldier returned his yellow stare, his chest rising and his breathing hastened in his excitement for someone probably two or three centuries younger. Her black bra poked through the material of her tight shirt.