Critical Dawn by Colin F. Barnes, Darren Wearmouth Page A

stark opposition to the sterile smell of the harvester. He breathed it in deeply, the damp atmosphere moistening his throat and lungs. The underground room accommodated the five of them plus Denver’s dog. Shadows gathered in the corners, cast there by a small, battery-powered lamp of sorts hanging from an overhead wooden beam, rough-hewn from a trunk.
    Ben remembered watching a video of humans of old cutting trees and planking the logs with simple machinery. Agricultural, Jimmy used to say, when denoting something wasn’t hi-tech.
    It seemed to Ben that this world, his home that he never had chance to know, was now a mix, but humanity weren’t the ones with the tech anymore.
    “Sit down and be quiet,” Charlie growled, indicating a log that had been placed on the dirt floor. Maria and Ethan did as they were told and huddled together. They were used to receiving orders. Ben, however, refused and remained standing.
    Denver pulled back at a tatty curtain to reveal a screen. A grainy image of armored figures like the one that had killed Erika played out a curious film. There were four of them in a diamond pattern. Each one carried a pistol like the one Denver had fired at one of the smaller creatures.
    “What’s happening?” Ben said, approaching Charlie.
    “We’re being hunted. They’re trying to locate your GPS signal.”
    “Our what?”
    “You really don’t know anything, do you, kid?” Charlie shook his head as he looked at Ben and his colleagues. He turned his attentions to Denver at the screen, joining his son with an arm over his shoulder.
    Denver whispered something to Charlie and looked back at Ben.
    Infuriated at being left in the dark, Ben stepped forward only to walk into the barrel of the alien pistol. “Hey now, this isn’t on—”
    Denver turned round. “Get back, sit down, and shut up. We’re trying to save your asses here.” Denver’s red beard hid the scowl, but Ben could see it in his eyes. Even though he was young, there was a severe degree of hardness there.
    If what they had said was true and this was how they lived, Ben couldn’t blame him. Being constantly on the move, hunted, stalked, that must take its toll.
    “How?” Ben said. “If they can track us …”
    “Jammers,” Charlie said, lowering Denver’s arm. “It’ll scramble the signal but won’t hold up to a close inspection. GPS means Global Positioning System. You have a chip embedded near your collarbone that transmits a signal. These fuckers pick it up and use it to trace you.”
    Ben opened his mouth to ask a question, but Charlie’s face told him that wasn’t a good option. He turned and sat with Maria and Ethan as Charlie said, “Look, I know this is all a lot to take in right now. Once we’re safe for a moment, I’ll explain everything in finer detail, but right now, we need to be quiet and calm.”
    Even though Ben was eager for answers and determined to get to the bottom of this, even if it was just to pay tribute to Jimmy and Erika, he knew not to push it. He sat down with his colleagues and waited.
    “Have you seen that?” Ethan said, pointing to the end of the room into a dark nook that had been dug out of the dirt.
    “I don’t like it here,” Maria said, keeping her voice low so Denver and Charlie couldn’t hear. “They’re going to get us killed—or worse.”
    Ben narrowed his eyes to see what Ethan was pointing at. His vision eventually adjusted to the low light, and it came into focus. One of the small aliens, like the one Denver killed back at the harvester, was pinned up against a wooden board.
    It was cut open from sternum to groin, the pale-grey skin pinned back to reveal its inner biology. A number of wires and what looked like probes or electrodes were stuck into its organs. Its wide-set eyes were rolled back to reveal black orbs.
    On the either side of the room was another nook, this time holding a series of shelves, on which, collected together, were a number of foil-packed