The morning lied

Troy's grandmother had lied. Nothing looked better in the morning. The distant sound of footsteps outside the warehouse cut through the fog in his mind. Thin fingers of sunlight crept through the cracks in the wall, but they did not reach him.

How had he slept a full four hours? His eyes adjusted slowly. The lingering scent of hay and the earthy scent of animals that once were reminded Troy of his location. The night before came rushing back.

“We knew that this day would come, honeypot. Everything will look better in the morning. I will say hi to your mother for you.”

Those had been his grandmother's last words. The piercing sound of her scream rang in his ears. Troy had not been able to look away. The machine tore through her. They had laughed.

“She will fetch a good price. You know how they like it old and tender.”

They had taken his pinkie finger for trying to fight back. The pain had been nothing compared to watching his grandmother reduced to nothing.

“I need to get out of here.” His throat burned. His water canteen was empty.

“Damn,” he murmured. The place where his pinkie once stood was securely fastened. So he had that going for him. The gravel crunching outside the stables made him forget about his dry throat.

“Rumour has it that Holder is hiding somewhere near here,” a deep voice said.

“No, that is not possible. He is missing a foot. Can barely make it to his own toilet, let alone the mountains.” Laughter followed.

His breath held. If the former president was stowed away around the area, it would soon be crawling with armoured trucks searching for him. He waited until the footsteps were further away, then slipped out into the light.

“Never stop running, honeypot. This is not the end of the world. It feels like it, but you have a great purpose.”

Troy had wondered where his grandmother got all that crazy nonsense from. This was the end. There was no hope for anything. No one had a purpose in this. Except to one day be turned into a meal.

The sun hit him hard. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. His body felt like lead. At twenty-four, he felt decades older. In the distance, an armoured truck rumbled. They were already on the hunt.

The mountains were his only chance. The sole road leading there lay open, exposed. It was any man's hunting ground. He had no choice. He could take his chances, or risk being shot down by the savages, and turned into meat.

Sunflowers were budding all around him. Ironic.

An arrow from a nearby hill sliced past him. He dropped instantly. Open ground. There was nowhere to hide. Troy crawled as fast as he could toward a nearby ditch. The savages’ war cry ripped across the field, curdling in his stomach. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning everything else. His breath came in sharp, broken gasps.

“Over here!” a voice shouted from behind a tree.

Too far. He couldn’t crawl that distance. He had to sprint.

“Do not leave me!” Troy shouted.

The figure ahead limped into an opening in the mountainside. Former President Holder. Of all people. The one man Troy could not afford to be seen with. A manhunt for his head had already begun. Troy dove into the narrow opening, stone and dirt scraping along his back. The space swallowed him, tight and suffocating.

“Follow me,” the old man commanded as he pushed deeper into the tunnel.

Anger surged through Troy. “Why? We are in this mess because of you!”

The old man stopped; one hand braced against the wall. He turned as far as his frail body allowed.

“You are welcome to go back out there,” he said calmly. “I am sure they would enjoy you. A fine young man like you, perfect barbecue.”

Troy clenched his jaw. The old man had a point. “Lead the way,” he grunted.

The tunnels were relics of the old freedom war, dug in secret and used to cross the country unseen. The past clung to them. A grenade sat lodged in a hollow in the wall.

“Where are you taking me? How do I know you are not leading me straight to your rich friends so they can eat me too?” He let out a bitter laugh.

“Oh right. You do not have anyone left.” His voice dropped colder now. “Even your wife and kids chose death. Staying with you meant a life of being hunted.” The old man simply walked on in silence.

They reached a cave carved into the mountain, the former president’s bunker. Troy paused. This was not new. He had been here a while. Empty cans of fish littered the ground. Heavy military weapons lay scattered in the shadows.

“Comfortable,” Troy muttered. “Hiding here like the coward you are.”

His anger snapped loose.

“What’s left of the population is starving. Children are dying every day, and you let those evil creatures into the country.”

Troy stepped closer. “What did they promise you? Diamonds? Gold? Did you not have enough already?”

His hand shot forward, gripping the old man’s collar. The old man trembled.

“Did you even know they were not human?” Troy demanded. “They eat people! My grandmother—”

The words died in his throat. His hand rose to his mouth. His chest tightened. He could not finish. Holder did not answer right away. He paced, dragging his bad leg through the dirt.

“You think I do not know what is happening out there?” he said quietly. He stopped, a crate of hand grenades in front of him.

“This morning, I went out for supplies. After midnight. The town across the ridge is usually quiet around two.” He gave a bitter half-smile.

“I cannot go far. Not like this.” He glanced down.

“I made it as far as the old filling station on Rice Street.”

His voice dropped. “I saw them. What they really are. Their real form.”

He paused. "Four of them. Feeding. A family of three.”

Silence settled in. Troy didn’t believe his worried act.

“Yeah,” Troy said coldly. “A bit too late for regret now, don’t you think?”

He stepped forward. “How long do you plan on hiding in this hole? There is a price on your head.”

Holder’s head snapped up.

“That’s right. Your friends are hunting you now. Betrayal, remember? Apparently, you promised to guide them. Something about showing them where the land is most ripe.”

“I promised nothing of the sort!”

The old man’s eyes lit up. “I have a plan. I know where their mother is. If I destroy her ship, this ends.”

Troy laughed dryly.

“Ends? You are a fool if you think this resets everything.”

Holder slammed a gun onto the table.

“Are you going to help me avenge your grandmother or not?”

Troy closed the distance in two strides. "Don't you dare use her to manipulate me." His voice dropped. "Whatever you were planning before I got here, go do that. I do not trust you."

Holder held his gaze. "Trust me or not, you want to live do you not?" he asked quietly. He gestured toward the tunnel behind him. "Because your alternative is running. Forever. Looking over your shoulder until one of them finally sinks their teeth into you."

Troy did not like this, but the old man had a point. A low rumble echoed from the tunnel they had come through. Troy froze.

"We have been compromised," he said sharply. "Savages or army. Does it even matter?" He was already moving, shoving handguns and grenades into his pockets.

"You have got another way out, right?" The old man tossed him a backpack and slung one over his own shoulder.

"Follow me," he said. "Quick. There is a jeep at the end of this tunnel. If we reach it, I can get us to the mothership.” He unfolded the paper he was holding to reveal a map

The tunnel widened as they ran, its walls scarred with wounds of the old world. Troy surged ahead. His thirst, the ache in his body, forgotten. All that mattered was the car. Holder was slowing him down. Let them take him, Troy thought, dropping into the driver's seat and hotwiring the engine with shaking hands.

"Do not leave me!" the old man shouted. A bullet tore past him. Troy flinched.

"Then hurry up!"

Holder barely made it into the jeep before Troy slammed his foot on the gas. The engine roared to life as the exit rushed toward them. It was blocked. Two figures stepped into the light; Troy did not slow down. He hit them with a loud heavy thud. It felt wrong, it was not bone, and it was not flesh. The jeep jolted violently. One shape rolled across the hood then slid out of sight.

"Did you see that?" Troy checked the mirror as the dust swirled behind them. Something moved inside it. It seemed to be folding and unfolding. Rising. His breath caught but he did not slow down. There were too many eyes, its limbs were bending the wrong way. Something thin and twitching like antennae cut through the air. His hands tightened on the wheel.

"What the hell are those things?"

The good thing was that he was driving so fast. The thing, on all its six legs somehow did not catch up to them.

"Turn right, here!"

Troy yanked the wheel. The jeep skidded and then died.

"Damn it!" He slammed the steering wheel. "We need to move. How far are we from that ship?"

Holder stepped out, scanning the area. A narrow creek ran beyond a thick hedge. The air reeked. The stench of dead flesh clung to the atmosphere. A black cloud of flies hovered over something in the grass. Neither of them was interested in inspecting.

"Not far," Holder said quietly. "If we are seeing all this, he waved a hand around, "We are close."

He gestured ahead. "Follow me."

Troy let out a short, humourless laugh. "I followed you once. Look where that got me."

He glanced down. His boot shifted on something soft.

"Is that an eye?" He looked away. "No, I am not doing this." He grabbed the backpack from the jeep. "I will find my own way."

Holder shifted, stepping around something wet he refused to look at. "Come on son," he said, voice low and steady. "You have made it this far with me. Let us see it through." Even now, he sounded convincing. No wonder a whole country had trusted him.

"Get away from me old man. Your plan is insane and it will never work."

He pushed forward into the thick stench. His head throbbed.

"Don't you feel guilty for leaving that traitor behind! he muttered to himself. "He sold this country to those demons!" Even as he said it, he slowed and he found himself turning back. Holder had not made it far. Not on that leg. Troy clenched his jaw and walked back.

"Don't get it twisted. I didn't come back for you. But if there is even a chance we can stop these things, and save the world, then-"

Holder didn't answer, he pointed ahead. "Look."

Troy followed his gaze. "Holy Mary! How are we going to get that far. The space ahead was wide and exposed. "They have probably got eyes on everything, he added. "Cameras, patrols."

"Not everything." Holder pointed toward a section of fencing. "Their surveillance starts there. However, there are a few blind spots."

Troy turned to him. "How do you know that?" His eyes narrowed. “In fact, why do you have this map? Everyone else who has made it this far had to struggle to find the way." The answer hit him before Holder spoke.

"You built this."

He shook his head. "I approved it, I did not know what they intended to put here. They promised us a state-of-the-art research lab." He adjusted the strap of his bag.

Troy did not know why he was shocked. "Well, there is your freaking lab. Come on, we are wasting time."

The air shifted, before the ground did. Troy felt it first, a low vibration beneath his boots. This was not sound; it was deeper than that.

"You feel that?" he whispered.

Holder did not respond. He just pointed. A glow came from through the trees. Faint and pulsing, it was not fire, neither was it light. It looked alive. They moved lower, slipping between broken fencing and patches of dead ground. The smell worsened. This was not dead flesh anymore. Something chemical, sharp and metallic. Troy froze. There was movement ahead. One of them, it passed slowly across the clearing. Its bending limbs made his stomach turn in ways that seeing his grandmother die had failed to do. Disturbing. He held his breath and waited. He counted and then they moved. They crossed the blind spot in silence. And then they saw it. The two men stopped. The mothership rose from the earth like it had grown there. It was not metal, it was not stone, but something in between. Its surface pulsed, like it was breathing. It was too massive. Troy suddenly felt small.

"We are supposed to destroy that?' he whispered.

"Come on," Holder whispered. "Talking will not get it done. Let us move."

Troy grabbed his arm. "Wait, what actually is your plan?" His voice tightened. "You get inside then what? What if they have sensors for humans? They will turn you into ground meat the second you get in there!"

He dragged a hand over his face. "I didn't think this through." Holder pulled free.

"Then turn back. You should not have to die for my sins."

Troy let out a sharp breath. "Oh, now you want me to leave?" He glanced back toward the open ground. "They will see me the second I step back out there." He thought about it, "Let us finish this. Lead the way."

Holder pointed. "There, beside that one. Looks like a hatch."

Troy followed his finger. One of the creatures lay still near the structure, sleeping. Or pretending to be.

"You have got to be kidding me," he breathed. "It will smell us."

"Then what's your plan?" Holder asked.

Troy exhaled, "Fine."

They moved, slowly and carefully.

The ships vibration grew stronger, low and deep. He felt it crawl through his bones. Troy reached the hatch. It gave way too easily.

"Go," he whispered shoving Holder inside. "Pull me up-"

Something clamped around his ankle, hard. Troy already knew what it was. He did not try to shake it off.

"Come on son, we have to-" the sentence died on Holder's lips as he understood.

Troy let out a sound that was almost like a laugh. Almost a scoff.

"Son, kick it off!" He knew that would be futile. The wet gurgling sounds were getting closer. There were more of them. Troy shoved the old man further through the hatch.

"If there is even a chance that you save the world and fix this," his voice hardened. "Then this is it. Go."

Holder's eyes widened in disbelief. "Fight them son, go on."

Another hand seized his torso, dragging him back. The grenade casing felt cool in his palm, steady, final. A welcome sensation. They pulled him across the ground, two of them. He could almost feel their drool hitting the ground as the salivated for him. Troy removed the pin from the grenade. The sound from the structure drowned the click of the pin coming off. He looked back; the hatch was closed. A smile played on his lips. He exhaled as he closed his eyes up towards the sky. The sunlight bathed over him. For a moment, the smell was gone. The noise and the fear. There was just the warmth. A field stretched out before him, wide and endless. Sunflowers swayed gently in the breeze, tall and golden. And there she was, his sweet grandmother.

"Everything always looks better in the morning, Honeypot. You have a great purpose" He laughed. Some great purpose this was.

He tightened his grip on the grenade. The creatures increased in numbers. They moved too fast, and their shadows swallowed the light. Troy did not move, not this time. His grip loosened, and he let go.