Derelict

From Ambush at the Innocent

Prologue

July 15, 2020

He folded his uniform with care before placing it in the trash barrel. Eight years of service in the United States Air Force were about to go up in flames and the thought turned his stomach. He reached back into the barrel to smooth away a wrinkle and adjust a button, realizing what he was about to do would be saying goodbye to an old friend. A friend he would never see again.

"Don't back down," said Jason. "They'll kill you if they catch you wearing that. Go on now. Do it."

Bryan nodded, hating himself. He felt like a coward and a traitor. "I can't do this."

"Listen to me. It's over! The Resistance is dead and it ain't coming back to life. Now let's get this done so we can get on with what's left of our lives."

Bryan stared at the barrel, disgusted it had all come down to this. He grabbed the can of lighter fluid and doused the fabric, emptying its contents and dropping in the can for good measure. He flipped open the lighter, irritated his hand trembled. He knew when the uniform went up in flames it would signal a milestone. It meant they won. Them. The invaders. The aliens.

"Gimmie that if you can't do it."

"Jason. You touch that lighter, I'll break your wrist. This is something I've got to do."

Jason backed away, palms up. "Hey, no problem. But you better do it fast or I'm hitting the road and you're on your own."

The lighter flared and Bryan held it to the soaked clothing, jerking his hand away as the fireball blazed to life. He watched for just a moment before turning his back on the life he had known before and walked to the Jeep. He felt like someone had gouged out his insides leaving him hollow and defeated.

They drove south through central Illinois down US 51, the heat escalating with each passing mile. The air conditioning in the Jeep had long ago given up the ghost and sweat rolled off the both of them in rivers. The aliens had somehow manipulated the climate and none of the few scientists remaining alive could determine what they had done or by what means they had done it. This brought a whole new meaning to the term "global warming."

Miles later they came to a checkpoint where a man toting a rifle over his shoulder waved them to the side of the road. He was eating what appeared to be a burrito, one of epic proportions. A stray grain of rice clung with tenacity to his unshaven face bobbing along with his chin as he chewed. The odor of the food wafted through the window and into the Jeep. Bryan realized after a moment it may not have been the burrito producing the smell after all when he noticed the rings of filth caked around the man's neck and arms. Three other equally grimy men with weapons materialized and surrounded the Jeep.

"Where you men heading?" was the question.

"South. We're heading south, maybe into Texas," answered Jason. "We hear they might have work."

The man with the rifle snickered. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that." He gave a cursory glance at both Jason and Bryan and his eyes swept over the meager cache of supplies in the back without so much as a raised eyebrow. "Either of you military?"

"Nope."

"Law enforcement?"

"Nope. We're in construction."

Rifleman did raise an eyebrow at that. "Construction, huh? You two look military to me, you got that look about you. Specially you," he said, gesturing with the burrito at Bryan. "Let me see some ID."