The spread book 6 annihi.., p.16
The Spread: Book 6 (Annihilation), page 16
Did that mean the weapon wouldn’t immediately wipe out humanity? Would the pockets of resistance still need to be dealt with?
The taker must have heard Aaron’s thoughts because it replied to him. Lessons to learn. For next.
Aaron shook his head in disgust.
The takers would move on as soon as they were done with the Earth, sending off more corkscrews full of fungus to claim more of the universe. Earth was just a trinket amongst many. But mankind had obviously provided a challenge, so this monster wanted to understand everything it could so that it could better kill the next species it helped invade.
Aaron tried not to think his true thoughts. He clamped his teeth together and pictured a brick wall.
The taker finally released Helper, who remained lifeless on the ground. Then, it turned back to look at the three other takers, who seemed to be awaiting orders. Perhaps to torment Aaron, the alien spoke in words he could understand. Polluted one, take. Rest is kill.
Aaron bellowed at the top of his lungs and threw himself into battle.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The takers squealed and convulsed. Aaron realised it was because he was screaming inside his own mind. The sheer volume of his inner voice created interference the aliens couldn’t bear – a frequency they were ill-equipped to process. Aaron skidded to a halt and watched their pain.
Stop is, the takers cried telepathically. Must is.
Aaron stopped screaming and focused on the lead taker. Let my friends live. Accept our surrender or I’ll fight you to the death, and you’ll lose your chance to examine me.
The taker stared at him for several moments, trembling with pain. Eventually, it sent a message to the other three takers that caused them to step back.
Follow, it said. Go is. Mercy given.
Aaron nodded to the others that all was okay, which prompted Sophie to help Cameron out from underneath the coach. Morgan and Fiona hurried to rouse Helper.
Two minutes later, they were all back on their feet and following the three subordinate takers, while the other kept guard from behind.
The takers led them around to the southern side of the stadium, where a plaza opened up. Aaron’s earlier assessment of Old Trafford being undamaged was quickly dashed as he saw that the horrific alien weapon had landed partially in the South Stand, causing it to collapse in a pile of rubble. It opened up a space directly onto the pitch from the plaza outside and gave an unfettered view of the pulsing weapon polluting the ground. Green ooze leaked into the turf. At the base of the shaft was a strange collection of throbbing veins and shimmering metal orbs. Aaron couldn’t be sure, but he thought it might be some kind of control panel.
A dozen takers were assembled around the weapon. One of them was not like the others. A foot taller, it wore some kind of carapace armour that looked as if it had skinned a maroon-coloured rhino and fashioned a chest plate from it.
Leader. Aaron didn’t hear the word, but he sensed it. The tone of the voices inside his head changed, became more subservient. When this alien authority figure saw Aaron and his friends, it released a sharp hiss. Kill.
The taker who had taken Aaron prisoner lowered itself before the leader and spoke words in their language. The sounds were guttural and harsh, like rocks being ground together. Aaron glanced at his friends, wondering if he had just walked them to their death. Cameron was in a bad way, clutching his ribs and wincing. His skin was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. Sophie and Fiona helped support him, but he was heavy. Morgan and Helper stood behind them, both trembling with fear. Did Helper even understand what was going on?
The armoured taker shoved its underling aside and approached Aaron. Aaron felt sick in every cell of his body as it neared, not just from fear, but from revulsion. The takers were evil, but this one…
This is what evil fears.
The creature examined Aaron through its many tiny eyes, tilting back and forth slowly. Then it spoke directly into Aaron’s mind. No, it pierced his mind. Aaron wanted to cry out – to lash out – but he was frozen stiff and unable to do anything except listen. Human not. Taker not. Abomination is.
I… I am human. You are the abomination.
A loud hiss, like steam escaping from a pipe. Insect is.
We’re beating you. You’re desperate. So… so suck my dick is.
The creature roared inside Aaron’s mind, causing him to fall to his knees. It was an agony such as he had never known; a white-hot spike piercing his eyeball and popping it like a water balloon. The pressure inside his head built to such a point that he thought his skull might explode.
“Hey! Leave the lad alone, ye ugly bastard!”
Aaron had been vaguely aware of Cameron standing nearby, but he now saw the big Scot in his peripheral vision. Clutching his ribs, Cameron leapt towards the armoured taker and thrust his head at its chest.
The taker swatted him into the air, launching him so far that Aaron had to twist his neck to watch him land.
Gravity pulled Cameron down on top of an exposed copper pipe jutting out of the rubble. The metal passed right through his back and burst through his chest. If it hurt, Cameron didn’t show it. He just stared at the grey morning sky overhead with a furrowed brow and a crooked mouth, as if he were trying to make sense of what had just happened. The copper pipe had entered him at an upward angle. Blood dripped down its length.
From somewhere nearby, Morgan screamed.
Aaron tried to go to Cameron, but he was stuck in place.
Helper squealed. “Cam… run!” Then he rushed over to help, his fan already extended, ready to heal.
The nearby takers rushed Helper and clubbed him to the ground, pounding on him repeatedly. He squealed like a hamster caught in a cat’s mouth, his large body going limp under the onslaught of blows.
The armoured taker sent out a message to his underlings, and a pair of them broke away, heading for Fiona, Sophie, and Morgan. The women attempted to run, but they were soundly cut off by another taker waiting behind them. It could’ve killed them with a pulse, but their leader clearly wanted suffering.
Seeing his friends hurt and in danger caused Aaron to do everything he could to get free of the hold the taker had over him. He would not let things end like this. He would not fail everyone. Wouldn’t fail Ryan.
Brother, if you’re up there in Heaven, please help me.
Aaron felt his hand move. The rest of him gradually followed. Once he had control of himself again, he threw himself at the armoured taker in a rage. But the malevolent creature barely moved.
Aaron bellowed at the top of his lungs, wishing the thing dead. Hating it with every ounce of his soul. He wailed inside his own head like the ghost of a butchered woman.
The taker stumbled backwards as if Aaron had struck it for a second time, this time much harder. The other takers in the stadium all turned around, distracted by the disruption of their psychic link and the painful interference on the line.
But it wasn’t enough. The armoured taker recovered and swung an arm at Aaron, causing him to leap backwards and fall onto his back to avoid being crushed. The other takers resumed stalking his friends. Helper was unconscious or dead. Cameron bled out on the copper pipe. It was over.
The weapon in the centre of Old Trafford pulsed and throbbed.
The armoured taker stood over Aaron and made a strange sound. Laughter. It was a broken, distorted clicking that was obviously meant to mimic human emotion, but failed. A mockery.
Death is. Mankind is not.
“F-Fuck you.” Aaron now spoke out loud, done with the mental back and forth.
The taker raised its arm. The air shimmered.
A gunshot rang out. Aaron flinched.
The taker staggered backwards, its chest on fire.
No, not a gunshot. A… firework?
What the?
Helper was suddenly back on its feet, and now rushing right towards the armoured taker.
No, that isn’t Helper.
It was another blue alien, this one taller and stronger than Helper. It had both fans intact, and it used their vibrating frequencies to pull apart the taker’s chest like uncooked cookie dough, exploiting the damage caused by the fizzing rocket that had embedded itself in its flesh. Orange blood squirted everywhere. Vile chunks of alien innards spilled down the taker’s ruined torso. It fell to its knees and stared at Aaron, and spoke two final words before falling down dead. How is?
Aaron stumbled to his feet, free of the taker’s psychic influence. He spun around, trying to understand what had just happened, and when he saw more fireworks launch from the rubble of the South Stand, he only grew more confused. Someone was igniting rockets and using them as weapons. They took flight one after another after another, most of them missing, but others hitting their mark with a searing blast. The successful hits stuck to the taker’s bodies and sent up sparks, burning away at their flesh. While not lethal, the whizzing explosives caused utter confusion. Even the high-pitched squeal seemed to have a negative effect on the takers.
The takers squealed and staggered about. The tall blue alien went at them with its fans, causing them even more disruption and agony. One of them went into a protective metal ball, but it was so wounded that it was probably in vain.
Fiona, Sophie, and Morgan took cover in the rubble near Cameron.
Aaron stood at the edge of the pitch, stunned.
The stranger ceased letting off fireworks and raced onto the pitch. It seemed to be a man, and he was carrying a petrol-powered chainsaw. He yanked on the starter chord and it roared to life. The motor purred with pleasure as the man drove it into the torso of the nearest taker. Orange blood cascaded like a colourful fountain.
The man with the chainsaw wore a blue baseball cap, and he was oddly familiar.
Is that…?
It can’t be…
The chainsaw-wielding man and the big blue alien made quick work of the remaining takers, and soon only one remained. It back-pedalled in fear, squealing in terror. Aaron recognised it as the one who had taken him prisoner. The man chased after it with the chainsaw like a maniac out of a horror movie.
Aaron threw up his hand. “Stop!”
The stranger just about heard him over the din of the chainsaw, but he pulled back and let the taker stagger out of harm’s way. Aaron rushed over to face the creature, speaking into its mind as easily as if he were talking to an old friend beside him.
This is our planet.
Yes, the taker replied, all of its beady eyes on Aaron. Yours is.
This thing had been prepared to let his friends go in safety at first. It was not a mindless animal and had almost shown mercy. An enemy soldier just following orders. Not an excuse, but at least a reason.
Go, thought Aaron. Be safe.
The taker stared at him for a moment. Then it replied, Thank you.
Aaron put a hand up to keep anyone from pursuing the creature as it staggered away. It clambered through the rubble of the South Stand and disappeared.
“Did you just have a conversation with that thing, our kid? That’s mad.”
Aaron spun around, a jolt of lightning hitting his chest and taking his breath away. “R-Ryan?”
Ryan took off his baseball cap and tossed it onto the pitch. “This place has seen better days.”
Aaron shook his head, unable to speak.
Ryan seemed older somehow, but perhaps it was just the grime on his face. His smile, however… his smile hadn’t changed one bit. He reached out and patted Aaron on the shoulder. “You look like shite, little bro.”
Aaron flung himself forward into his brother’s arms, sure that he was dreaming.
But it felt real.
Then he threw up all over Old Trafford’s pitch.
Aaron backed away, still wondering if he was dreaming. Or dead.
Ryan was standing right in front of him. Alive. But how could that be…?
“I-I watched you die. This isn’t real.”
Ryan suddenly seemed tired, but he continued to smile. “You watched me fall into a coma, bro. Fortunately, I found a quirky friend who can heal.” He motioned to the big blue alien. “His name’s Wallace. Well, that’s what I call him, anyway.”
“Help,” Fiona shouted.
Aaron turned and suddenly lost his breath again. He was brought quickly back to reality.
Fiona was kneeling over Cameron with her hands covered in his blood. She clutched at the copper pipe but didn’t seem to know what to do.
Ryan’s eyes went wide. “Shit, is that Cameron?”
Aaron raced over to the big Scot, mortified to see the greyness of his face. He was barely conscious, his eyes drooping, but when he saw Aaron, he smiled. “Is that… am I dreaming, lad?”
“It’s Ryan,” said Aaron, looking back at his brother behind him. “I can’t even… it doesn’t matter. Helper, Helper, we need you.”
“But Helper was lying on the ground, unmoving. It was unclear if the alien was even still alive.
“Wallace can help,” said Ryan, and he clicked his fingers to summon the other alien.
Wallace lumbered over on three legs and moved next to Cameron. Immediately, he flopped on top of the big Scot and began to quiver. Cameron swore angrily, but his complaints were muffled by the alien’s bulk.
After a few fraught moments, Wallace rose back up again and waved his fans. Too Late.
Aaron frowned, not understanding. Cameron looked no better. In fact, his face had grown an even deeper shade of grey. “What? No, you can perform miracles. I’ve seen men brought back from near death.”
Wallace put down his fans and tried to talk with his own voice, the same way Helper often did. “Heart. Damage. No fix.” He lifted his fans again. Remorse.
“No,” said Aaron. “No. I won’t lose him. I can’t. He’s my…” He glanced at Ryan. “He’s my brother.”
Cameron smiled and let out a choked chuckle. “I love ye, Little English. But… but yer real brother is here now, eh?”
Aaron knelt beside Cameron. “No. No, you’re as much my brother as Ryan is. I would be dead if not for you. Please, we have to fix this.”
“It’s done, lad. I…” He gargled and a stream of bloody drool spilled from the corners of his mouth. He spat it out and cleared his throat. “Sorry, that wis gross.”
Aaron chuckled, but salty tears stung his eyes. “You’re not dying, Cam.”
“Eh, it’s grand, lad. This is… just grand. Except… Except, I always thought I’d die in… in bonny Scotland. At home.”
Fiona put her hand against his cheek. Tears were streaming down her face. “You are home, sweetheart. You’re with the people who love you.”
Cameron managed another smile. “Always thought me and yoo would… would wind up shagging, eh?”
Fiona guffawed. “Dickhead. You’re my fucking hero, man.”
“Aye.”
Ryan moved tentatively closer, as if he feared he was intruding. When Cameron saw him, he nodded, which seemed to be the permission he needed. He knelt beside Cameron and grabbed the Scot’s meaty fist between both of his hands. “Never thought I’d see you again, our kid. How y’been doing?”
“Feckin’ awful, pal. Whatae’s coming next must… must be better.”
Ryan squeezed Cameron’s hand. “The best of places, mate. You kept my little brother safe.” He looked back at Aaron and frowned. “Well, more or less. He had two arms when I left him with you.”
“Ah, quit yer whining.”
Ryan leant closer. “Thank you, brother. I can never repay you.”
“Just name yer firstborn after his handsome uncle Cam and we’re all square, eh? Make sure he supports Glasgow Rangers, too, will ye no.”
Ryan grimaced. “Not sure I can promise that, mate.”
“Then no be surprised if I come back and haunt ye.” His eyes glazed over, and it looked like he might be gone, but then he suddenly flicked his gaze to the left, looking once again at Aaron. “Ye the big man now, lad. Take care of them lasses, eh?”
“I think they can take care of themselves,” said Aaron with a teary smile.
“Aye, ye probably right. Take care of ye wee self then. I’m too tired tae… tae… tae keep saving yer arse.”
Aaron nodded. “I’ll take it from here, Cam.”
Cameron closed his eyes and smiled, seemingly satisfied. He took one long breath, and more blood spilled from between his lips. His final words were barely audible, but Aaron knew the man well enough to know exactly what they were.
Feckin’ English.
Cameron died. Something that seemed impossible. The man-mountain had faced death a thousand times and survived, to the point where he had started to appear immune. Reality had finally caught up with him.
Fiona leant against Aaron and the two of them sobbed, bonded in grief. Sophie and Morgan stood next to them, silent.
Ryan watched them grieve for several minutes, but then he couldn’t seem to keep himself from speaking. “So, little bro? You and Cameron were pretty tight, huh?”
It was an awkward thing to say, but Aaron couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s been a hectic few months. A lot has happened. How did you… how did you even find us?”
He shrugged. “Heard shouting and fighting and that. Wallace led me here. I’ve been home for a few days, trying to stay out of sight and help out where I can. There are people all over the city trying to fight back.”
Aaron nodded. “I know. We saw some of them.”
Ryan swallowed and lowered his eyes. “I came back home to find mam. Thought maybe she would’ve stayed safe in the house. I checked…” He let out a sigh. “She weren’t there, our kid.”
“She’s in Edinburgh,” said Sophie. She’d been standing and staring at Ryan the whole time he’d been there, but she seemed to get a hold of herself now. In fact, she seemed a little peeved that it had taken him so long to notice her.
Ryan turned to see her now, though, and his eyes twitched like a pair of escaping bugs. It was like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing or hearing. “A-Alive?”
Sophie nodded. “For now.”
“I was in Edinburgh. Passed right through without a clue she was there.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He shook his head, tears forming behind his eyelids. His voice quivered as he spoke. “Sophie, every night I’ve dreamt about your face. I had to keep it in my mind, because I couldn’t let it fade, not even a little. Y-You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m sorry that it took the end of the world to teach me how to be a man. I don’t even have the words to explain to you…”
