Invasion

  WORST CASE SCENARIO

  Series

  INVASION

  Book 3

  G. Allen Mercer

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2014 G. Allen Mercer

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, scanning, recording, or otherwise, except to quote on blogs or reviews without the expressed written permission of the author. Any unauthorized reproduction of this work is punishable by law. Permission can be requested at: www.GAllenMercer.com

  Cover design and text by G. Allen Mercer

  A secret is useful only if there is someone around to keep it from

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  Mary realized that she no longer owned a picture of anyone that she loved. Her partner for the last fifteen years had been vaporized…erased…like she was never part of this world. Elizabeth would only be remembered by a few people still living, but Mary would love her forever.

  Who gets to decide these things? Mary was somewhere between mad and numb.

  In the blink of an eye she had gone from successful professional and liberal socialite to refugee wonderer, wearing green camouflage and toting a gun.

  There was nothing that she was doing now that at all resembled the life that had been taken from her. She had worked hard and usually enjoyed the spoils of her work. Now it was all gone.

  How does someone decide to unleash a nuclear bomb on an innocent city? She questioned herself more than anyone else. She was an attorney, and attorneys asked questions. Attorneys made money and the money allowed her to live the lifestyle that she enjoyed. Her law office, and the practice that she had helped build over the last twenty years, was rubble. She had been one of five partners, and their firm was arguably one of the hottest firms in the South.

  Besides Elizabeth, it was her career and her lifestyle that she missed the most. It was so good. She kicked a rock down the path in front of her. Damn, that’s shallow!

  Everything about her former life centered around a few neighborhoods in the Midtown area of Atlanta. She loved the location. It was next to everything that was important to her, and was the social place to be.

  I don’t have a home anymore…everything’s gone.

  She and Elizabeth had renovated the entire top floor of an old brick building a couple of blocks off of Peachtree Street. They spent two years working with contractors, finding imported tile and matching color pallets to make the place their own. It had a Zen garden on the roof where an old air conditioner used to sit. They called their roof garden the Swanky Spot, and used to throw parties and host social events for charities there.

  It’s all gone! My cat’s dead. Most of my friends are gone.

  She didn’t want to cry anymore. She had cried so much over the last few days. Ian had tolerated her mood and she was sure that the Boy Scouts that had just joined them on their journey thought she was a little crazy.

  My parents are gone.

  They never really understood her relationship with Elizabeth, but they loved her nonetheless. Mary had bought them a condo in a retirement community six blocks from her home. She was sure that they died during the blast.

  Why have you left me behind?

  Ian looked back at her, and she looked up at him through watery eyes. He constantly checked on her by looking at her or simply putting his hand on her shoulder.

  Ian was lucky.

  He had learned that his wife and daughter are still alive. She tried to be happy for him. She pulled her sleeve across her eyes to dry the tears.

  I don’t even own the clothes that I’m wearing!

  “Ms. Mary,” Adam, the oldest Boy Scout said, catching up to her. He had been walking in the rear of the line to make sure that they didn’t lose any of the other four Scouts. “Ms. Mary,” he said a second time.

  She blinked her eyes a few times, trying to will the tears to dry up and snap out of her wallowing. Adam was one of the many reasons that she was still alive. After getting caught up inside of an Airstream trailer and swept downstream during a flood, Adam and the other Boy Scouts had helped to rescue her by pulling her to safety.

  Saving Mary had become a full time job. Ian had orchestrated each of the three rescues, and without him, she would have died three days ago.

  Maybe that should have happened?

  “Ms. Mary,” Adam asked for a third time.

  “Yes?” she finally answered. She had no idea how long Adam had been talking to her.

  “Do you mean to walk with your finger on the trigger?” he asked, nodding towards the rifle she was holding. “Also,” he treaded lightly with the crying lady, “the safety is off.”

  Mary looked down at the rifle. The hand that was squeezing the trigger was white. She must have been squeezing the pistol grip of the weapon for some time. She had no idea why the safety was off.

  “Oh, I hadn’t noticed,” she responded back to the Scout.

  “Is there a problem?” Ian asked, suddenly appearing next to them. He had stopped the walk to see what was going on.

  Mary looked at him. “I’m really tired,” she simply said.

  “I can see that,” he said, putting one hand on her elbow, and the other hand on the rifle. Why don’t we all take a break, and how about I take this for a while,” he said, helping her to a large rock near the trail and easing the rifle off of her shoulder.

  “Thanks,” she said, backing her butt down to the rock.

  Ian dug through the top of her pack and found a protein bar. “Eat this and get some water.” He squatted down so that he was eye to eye with her. “You going to be okay?” He engaged the safety on the rifle while he talked, never taking his eyes off of hers.

  She nodded as she took a sip of her water and lowering her head. “I’m just tired. It’s…it’s all just catching up with me. It’s all just…like I’m crying because my cat’s dead, and that’s stupid because, really, I’ll never see anyone that I know again.” She looked up and into his eyes. “Elizabeth is gone forever.”

  Ian needed to help her believe in hope again. “Mary…”

  She looked away.

  “Mary,” his voice was steady and calm. She looked up at him. “You know me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  She looked at him and forced a smile. “Thank you,” she said, her voice no louder than a whisper.

  He took her hand. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He squeezed her hand to enforce the question.

  She nodded that she was.

  “Mr. Burrows!” Adam said.

  “I hear it too,” he said, acknowledging that the boy had heard a machine noise coming from somewhere. “Calmly get the Troop into the woods about 10 yards off the road,” he ordered Adam, who immediately ushered the remaining four boys and Mary deeper into the woods and away from the two lane road.

  The noise continued to grow and seemed to bounce off of the rocks and hills in the area, making it hard for Ian to pin down the direction it was coming from. He followed the boys and Mary off of the road and crouched dow
n next to a tree.

  “That’s a helicopter, right?” Adam asked as he crouched next to Ian.

  “Affirmative, and it sounds like it’s pretty low,” Ian said, looking at the Senior Patrol Leader of the Troop. “Do you know how to use this?” Ian asked, holding Mary’s rifle out towards him.

  Adam didn’t reach for the weapon at first. “Yes, sir. I’ve been hunting deer since I was six, and we live on a farm; guns are just part of our life.”

  Ian handed him the weapon. He glanced over at Mary, who almost seemed relieved that she was no longer in charge of the thing.

  “Just keep an eye on our six, I trust you”, Ian added.

  The helicopter closed in on their position and then buzzed over them at treetop level, never stopping.

  They all sat quietly until the noise dropped away, and then stopped.

  “Where do you think they’re going?” Adam asked.

  “Not sure, son, but it looks like they might have set down a mile or so up the road. You know this area, right?” he asked looking back at Adam.

  “Yes sir.”

  “That’s the way we need to go, isn’t?”

  “Yes sir. We’re about twelve miles from the house. Old man Brown’s farm is about where that helicopter landed.”

  “How far up is that?”

  “About two miles from here. As a crow flies, his farm is directly over the ridge from our place.”

  “So, were only twelve miles to your place if we use the road?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “What about going up and over the ridge to your place once we get to the Brown’s farm? How far from there?” Ian asked. He was already computing the level of risk of staying on the road versus cutting through the woods.

  “Joshua and I have ridden and hiked over the ridge several times. It’s only about three or four miles up and over. Once we get to the Brown’s property, we’ll have to double back along the pipeline trail and then go up from there.”

  “Pipeline trail? What kind of pipeline?”

  “Oil and natural gas I think? It’s all underground, you can’t see it or anything.”

  “Is it like a cleared space that goes on and on in each direction. Kind of like you would see under high tension power lines?” Ian asked, thinking he knew what the helicopter might be doing.

  “Yes, sir. A lot of kids ride their dirt bikes along the pipeline.”

  “Yeah,” Ian said with a smile. “I used to do stuff like that too. Okay,” he patted Adam on the shoulder. “Let’s get the Troop moving down the road. I want us to see if we can get closer to the Brown’s farm…and if we’re lucky, we’ll see what that helicopter is up to.”

  “All right Scouts, and Ms. Mary, lets put our packs back on and move on,” Adam said. His voice was firm and commanding, but not condescending.

  Ian watched the boy motivate the younger boys and even gingerly handle Mary. He thought Adam was an excellent leader. The boy’s sense of calm and command reminded him of Grace.

  Must have a set of good parents, he thought to himself.

  CHAPTER 2

  Leah was three hours into her hike to meet Grace and Bob’s son, Joshua. All of her journey so far had been by the light of the moon, as she and Daisy left the house at 3:00AM.

  Leaving the house was difficult, because she felt that deep down inside, she would never be back. But this was an emotion that she didn’t share with her friends.

  Amy, Leah’s neighbor and good friend, was up with her and eager to show that she now had it pulled together. They brewed their last pot of tea on the back deck grill and talked through their final plans while watching the nearly full moon march across the sky.

  Earlier in the day, Mr. Rivers, the elderly Korean War veteran neighbor, Amy and Leah had worked together taking inventory of what supplies they had between the three houses. They had decided to band together against the troubles of the new world; a small force against an oppression of evil.

  Defense and food were the primary concerns of the new allies. Naturally, Leah had the most supplies and her house was also the easiest to defend, so Amy and her two children and Mr. Rivers agreed to take up residence in the house until Leah and Grace returned.

  Mr. Rivers was eager to be a part of the entire exercise. He contributed a cache of rifles, pistols and ammunition to the cause. He even had several working grenades, which were left at his house out of Amy’s concern for the children.

  Leah and Mr. Rivers walked through some of her security issues, and she was impressed to see his perspective and how easily the combat scenarios returned to the old man. But, he surprised her when he handed her something to take with her.

  “What’s this?” Leah asked, taking the small box.

  “Just open it and don’t ask questions,” he said, with a mock grumpy voice.

  Leah pulled the top off of the box to reveal a knife in a sheath. She took the knife out of the box and pulled the blade from the sheath. The handle was a rich wood with a balanced metal end. The blade was about six inches and came to a fine point; the knife was weighted perfectly and beautiful. She knew that this was an old knife and had to mean something to the man.

  “I can’t take this,” she protested.

  “Of course you can,” he objected. “I know you have those fancy new guns,” he said, gesturing towards her rifle. “But, that’s old school,” he said, pointing to the knife. “That knife is one of the original Buck knives, hand made by Mr. Buck himself. He made it out of a worn-out file blade and one of our boys in World War II used it. My wife found it in a pawn shop and gave it to me before I went to Vietnam.”

  Leah looked up at him, balancing the knife in her hand. “I thought you served in Korea?”

  “I did. I also did a tour in Nam, but since it wasn’t one of those missions you’re allowed to talk about, well,” he pause and smiled. “I guess all that stuff really doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s just say that I want you to have the knife. It got me out of a jam one time, and perhaps it can help someone else.”

  “So, I guess you’re not taking ‘no’ for an answer?” She put her arms around the elderly man and hugged him. “Thank you.”

  “No, I’m not. So, go get your daughter,” he said, hugging her back.

  Leah’s early morning goodbye was tearful, but Amy gave her support and hope that she would get to her daughter and bring her back. Leah vowed to keep her friend posted with the extra two-way radio and with that, she and Daisy walked away from the home and life she had been living for the last seventeen years.

  Now, five miles later, she crouched on the side of the road. She was wearing dark camouflage pants, dark high lace boots a sports bra, tee shirt and a long sleeve sweat wicking shirt that was black. Over everything, she had a light bulletproof vest. The vest was one of those things that she didn’t think they would need, but Ian had been insistent that the extra few dollars that they cost would be worth its weight in gold if they ever needed to count on it. “Gold bar, baby,” she had said, when she put it on. The vintage knife was strapped to the front strap of her backpack for easy access.

  Daisy was also wearing her vest and was in a mode of constant monitoring of the surroundings. The dog seemed to enjoy the work and the adventure. Leah had packed the pouches on Daisy’s vest with compressed food and a few packets of water specifically for the dog.

  Leah was looking at the intersection of a four-lane highway. The intersection was a critical juncture for travel from the South to the North and into the city. Birmingham is located at the geological southern tip of the Appalachian Mountains. The city is nestled between long running mountain ranges; so, like any city with hills, rivers and mountains, there are only a few ways across these natural barriers and into the city. This intersection was at a critical juncture for one of those passages.

  There were about a dozen cars still in the intersection. A few cars had rolled off of the road and at least one had careened off one side of the road and caught fire after the EMP. She couldn’t see any activ
ity in the cars or around the intersection.

  Leah put a boot on the pavement of the intersection to start her cross, and heard something. She froze, and so did Daisy; the dog heard the sound as well.

  Leah looked around her without moving. It was at least 80 yards to the other side of the intersection. She could step backwards and hide. There were multiple cars she could duck into.

  What’s that sound?

  The humming noise was growing louder. It sounded like a trashcan of angry bees coming towards her. She didn’t know the sound, but she thought she had a good idea what it was based on the radio chatter from the last day.

  She took a calculated risk. “Let’s go!” she commanded the dog, and took off for the other side of the intersection at a dead run.

  When she reached the middle of the intersection, bullets started streaking from somewhere in the sky, striking around her and exploding the gas tank of a car.

  “Go! Go!” she yelled. The scene was one out of an action adventure film.

  Leah and Daisy zigzagged from car to car as bullets rained down around them. They were only twenty yards from the other side of the intersection when the shower of bullets stopped.

  She could hear a new sound. The air thumped as the sound came up the highway from the South.

  “Keep running Daisy!” They ran off the side of the road and into the ditch. There was a large drainpipe leading away from the intersection along the ditch. The pipe was new, and had just been installed over the last month to support a new neighborhood down the road. She ran into the pipe and stopped. Daisy was right behind her and stopped as well; she was panting.

  “Good girl,” Leah said, petting the dog’s head. “I’m glad they didn’t use a rocket,” she said, while leaning out of the drainpipe to look down the road. She wanted to be sure of what the second noise was.

  Flying up the road were three small black helicopters.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” she said. She turned and started down the drainpipe. Once she couldn’t see anymore, she turned on a small light that was clipped to her black ball cap.