The War for Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 4) Read online

  THE WAR FOR EARTH

  CHILDREN OF EARTHRISE, BOOK 4

  by

  Daniel Arenson

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  AFTERWORD

  NOVELS BY DANIEL ARENSON

  KEEP IN TOUCH

  Illustration © Tom Edwards - TomEdwardsDesign.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  They were hunting deer when Karin found the mutilated skeleton.

  "Sarge!" She beckoned to him. "Sarge, take a look. Muckers broke every damn rib in the poor bugger's body."

  Sergeant Robert Fox was kneeling in the snow, breath frosting, examining hoof prints. He glared at the raven-haired young woman.

  "Hush!" he said. "Keep your voice low. You'll scare off the deer."

  "Dude, I think I found the deer," Karin said.

  Fox grunted. He trudged toward her between the maples, carefully climbing over icy logs and hidden roots. The kid followed him, a spindly private wrapped in furs, an oaf who snapped every branch and breathed louder than a sawmill.

  The three of them had been tracking the deer for two days now. In the old stories, Earth was a place of flowery meadows, blue sky, and frolicking ponies. Since arriving here six months ago, Fox had found the planet somewhat less idyllic. The summer had been hot, filled with mosquitoes instead of ponies, dying crops instead of flowers, but Fox missed it now. Winter was worse. Winter here in the plains of Ontario had him constantly shivering, cursing, and missing the comfort of space.

  He was built to withstand winter, he supposed. He was a squat man, layers of muscle and fat heavy around his broad bones. Hair covered his chest and limbs, so thick the troops called it fur. His beard was even thicker, though icicles now filled it. He would have been warmer with a shave.

  Six months on Earth, Fox thought. Six months of Ra damn disease, bugs, and mucking ice on my balls. Why the hell did I ever come here?

  But he knew, of course.

  He grumbled. He cursed the heat and cold. He hated every damn bug and snowflake on this world. But he knew.

  Two thousand years ago, some damn tentacled aliens had attacked Earth. Had butchered billions. Only a handful of survivors had fled. And for two thousand years, humanity suffered in exile.

  Refugees.

  Hunted everywhere.

  Countless of them—burning in alien factories, dying in darkness.

  Fox had been born to refugees, themselves the children of refugees. He was the last of eighty exiled generations.

  But unlike his ancestors, Fox had never been meek. Never allowed himself to be hunted. No. As other humans cowered and died, he had fought. As others had marched obediently into the gulocks, only to be skinned alive and burned, Fox had rebelled.

  He had served in the Heirs of Earth, the great uprising of humanity. Because he was not prey. He was a hunter. In space. And here on Earth.

  So I followed you here, Leona Ben-Ari, he thought. Because we will all stand tall again, here on our homeworld.

  Leona was his commander. His pillar of fire. She was ten kilometers south right now, back at Port Addison, a colony of two hundred hardy souls.

  And two hundred hungry souls, Fox thought. We better kill some deer today, or we'll be dining on ice cubes for Christmas.

  "What the hell is that?" Fox said, climbing over an icy log.

  Karin looked up from the pile of bones and black goo. "Our dinner. Was, at least."

  "Mucking hell, that was a deer?" Nausea rose in Fox, and he spat. "Looks like a Ra damn mutant. Stinks too."

  He stepped closer to the pile. The skeleton—what was left of it, at least—only vaguely resembled a deer. Every rib was shattered, pushed inward. The limbs had snapped. Dark slime covered the skull and draped across the bones, frozen solid.

  "What do you reckon happened to it, Sarge?" Karin touched one of the broken ribs. "It's sticky."

  Fox grimaced. "Passed through a predator's guts, I'd say. The beast digested the meat and shat out the bones."

  Karin pulled her hand back. "Eww. Seriously—eww."

  The kid, the slowest of the group despite his long legs, caught up. He paused for a moment, wheezing, cheeks red. Snow filled his shaggy hair. When he saw the mangled skeleton, those cheeks turned from red to green. He knelt over to retch behind an icy bush.

  "What the hell, Sarge?" The kid straightened and wiped vomit off his mouth. "What could have eaten and shat out a deer—whole?"

  "Your mama," Karin said.

  The kid flipped her off. "Muck you, piss pants." He had never forgotten her wetting her pants at the Battle of Terminus a few years ago.

  Karin spat. "Screw you, Chapman. How about I rip off your head and piss down your neck, asshole?"

  "Enough!" Fox snapped.

  "But—" the kid began.

  "Enough, Private Chapman!" Fox said. "Stand straight. Stand guard. You're a soldier, dammit."

  Fox returned to the skeleton. He knelt, ran his finger over a broken rib, then straightened. He took a few steps, knelt again. He pointed at the snow.

  Here we go.

  The others stepped closer.

  "Sarge, you see something?" Karin said.

  Fox nodded.

  "Tracks. In the snow. Look more closely."

  Karin narrowed her eyes. "I don't …"

  "An undulating line. Like a stream." Fox grunted. "It's a big one."

  Karin's eyes widened. "Bloody hell. I thought it was a stream, frozen over and covered in snow. What kind of animal would leave a track like …"

  Her voice died off.

  They all knew the answer.

  Basilisks.

  "Muck," Karin said.

  Fox nodded. "Damn right."

  They had all fought the basilisks in space. The giant snakes came from a distant planet, and they had built an empire. With the Heirs of Earth, Fox had raided their ammunition freighter, had fought the beasts in that cavernous starship. He had seen the serpents wrap around his comrades, crush their bones, devour their corpses. He had never forgotten the oily stench of them. The cruel, burning eyes. Most nights, the basilisks still haunted his nightmares, constricting him, snapping his ribs, and Fox woke up drenched in sweat and wrapped in a tangle of blankets.

  He knew that Earth lay within their empire. He knew that millions of the
creatures lived on this planet. But they mostly gave humans a wide berth, staying far from Port Addison, humanity's colony.

  Port Addison—named after the famous Addy Linden, a heroine from history, a warrior who had led Earth's uprising against alien invaders. And now humanity was back. They had established the first human settlement on Earth in two thousand years. Port Addison—a precious jewel Fox had to protect.

  If those bastards attack us, we can't hold them off, Fox thought.

  "We gotta track it," he said.

  Karin's eyes widened. "What? Muck that! I'm going back to camp."

  "Me too," said Chapman. The kid still looked queasy.

  Fox spun toward them. He gripped his rifle. "We're not cowards. We won't run from a battle."

  Karin barked a laugh. "Battle, Sarge? With all due respect, just three of us out here, carrying nothing but hunting rifles? That won't be a battle. The snakes will mucking butcher us."

  "Yeah!" Chapman nodded, voice squeaking. "Back at the colony, we got walls. Guard towers. Bigger guns. I say we head back, defend ourselves there."

  Fox stared at the kid. "Walls? Wooden fences. Towers? Barely more than treehouses. No. If the basilisks want to kill us, they can do it back home too. We track this creature. We find out where it comes from, what it wants."

  "Other than deer, at least," Karin muttered, looking at the skeleton.

  Fox took the lead, rifle raised. The snake must have passed here hours, even days ago. The undulating trail was barely visible, a mere hint in the snow. Fresh snow began to fall, obscuring even that faint trail. Soon all Fox could see was a broken branch here, a fallen icicle there, a mark on a tree, a drop of venom in the snow. The bastard must have been huge. When Fox approached two oaks growing a meter apart, he saw scratches on both trunks.

  It barely squeezed between the trees, Fox thought. This snake is a monster. Big enough to swallow me whole.

  The wind howled like a dying man. Branches creaked and icicles fell into the snow like daggers piercing flesh. A veil of white clouds hid the sun. All the world became white and brown, an endless hinterland of ice and wood. The snow fell harder now. It grew colder, so cold teeth chattered and fingers went numb. The kind of cold that goes beyond the flesh, that cuts right into the bones.

  "Muck this shit," Karin muttered. "Let's go home."

  Fox eyed her. "You scared, Corporal?"

  She nodded. "Yeah."

  Fox wanted to scoff. To mock her. To drill courage into her.

  But he felt the ice inside him—and not from the snowy wind.

  He too was scared. Terrified. In his memory, the serpents wrapped around his friends, crushing their bones.

  "Sarge?" Chapman spoke behind him. "What's that?"

  Fox spun around. The kid pointed, and Fox saw it. A splotch of hot red in the forest. Something hanging from a tree.

  Fox frowned. He took a step toward it, eyes narrowed.

  "Is that a heart?" Fox said. "What's it hanging fro—"

  Karin screamed.

  Fox spun back toward her, rifle raised.

  But Karin was gone.

  "Karin?" Fox cursed and cocked his gun. "What the hell?" He spun toward Chapman, then forward again. "Where is she?"

  Both men stared, silent, eyes narrowed.

  The wind moaned again and the branches seemed to laugh.

  Gone. Not even footprints remained.

  "What the hell!" Chapman cried. "How could she just vanish?" He began to pant. "Oh God. Oh God. We're mucked. They're gonna kill us. We're dead! We're—"

  Fox shook the boy. "Shut up. Get it together! Load your gun!"

  He turned back to where Karin had been.

  There were no tracks. Nothing!

  If it had been a basilisk, Fox would have seen it. Seen the trail in the snow. But—

  A branch creaked.

  "There!" Chapman shouted, pointing at a treetop.

  Fox saw it—a shape above, long and scaly, scurrying over the branches.

  "Damn you!" Chapman shouted and opened fire. His rifle blazed on automatic, spraying bullets.

  "Hold your fire!" Fox pulled the private's gun down. "Damn it, kid, hold your fire! She might still be alive."

  Chapman lowered his rifle, gasping, tears flowing. The kid was trembling like a leaf in the wind.

  "Oh God, Sarge, I saw it. A basilisk. A basilisk in the goddamn trees. It grabbed her, Sarge. It ate her." The boy fell to his knees. "We have to run. God, Sarge, we have to run. They'll kill us. They'll—"

  Fox grabbed the private by the collar and yanked him up. "Damn it, man! You're an Inheritor. A soldier of Earth. Act like it."

  The private straightened, sniffing, and nodded. "Aye, Sarge. Sorry, Sarge." He lowered his gun. "What do we do now, Sarge?"

  "We keep following it," Fox said. "Snakes digest their meals slowly. Karin might still be alive inside it." He grimaced, queasy. "If there's a chance we can save her, we have to try. Load a fresh magazine. Don't fire unless I give the order. Now try to keep up, and for God's sake, man, get a grip."

  The two men kept walking through the snowy forest, rifles aimed ahead. The wind grew louder, colder, and the trees creaked and reached out knobby fingers to grab their coats. The sun was setting, casting long shadows and red beams like bloodied spears. They should have been back at the colony by now. Not out here. Not this far north. Not in this frozen wasteland so far from the hearth.

  "There." Fox pointed at the snow. "See that? You hit the bastard."

  A drop of blood stained the snow.

  "Is that …" Chapman gulped. "Could it be Karin's blood?"

  Fox shook his head. "No. Too dark to be human blood. Brownish. That's snake blood." He took a few more steps, saw another stain. "The son of a bitch is traveling in the trees, but we have a new trail."

  They followed the droplets of blood across the snow. Soon the sun was gone, and they lit their flashlights. The clouds hid the stars, and wind shrieked, cutting through the men's coats like icy claws. They moved fast, desperate to follow the blood before the snow covered the splatters. With every step, their flashlights jangled, and the shadows danced like demons.

  A branch snapped overhead.

  The men froze and raised their rifles.

  Fox pointed his flashlight.

  Nothing.

  "I saw something," Chapman whispered, lips blue and stiff. "A shadow darted away."

  "Just wind in the branches," Fox said.

  "You heard the crack, man." Chapman's voice was shaking. "It's here. It's above us. Hunting us. Stalking us. It's—"

  "It was just a goddamn branch, Private!" Fox barked. "These branches are covered with ice and snow. They break. Shut up and keep moving."

  But Chapman wouldn't move. His flashlight shook, casting wild beams. "We gotta go back, Sarge. Get reinforcement or something. The camp is ten kilometers south. We can make it back by dawn. We—"

  "And leave Karin here?" Fox said. "By the time we get back, she'll be dead."

  "What if she's dead already?" Chapman said. "A goddamn snake swallowed her. Nobody can survive that."

  "Then we'll find the bastard who killed her, and we'll fill him full of bullets." Fox placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I need you with me, Chapman. You're my wingman. And you're a good soldier. You wounded the son of a bitch. Now let's finish the job."

  The kid managed to square his shoulders, though he still trembled. He nodded, lips tight.

  They went on, faster now. The snow gusted around them. Fox couldn't stop his teeth from chattering, and the old wound on his leg ached. A scorpion had nearly ripped the limb off five years ago, and the claws still stabbed whenever it was cold.

  Our spaceships were warm, Fox thought. Our spaceships didn't have snakes. Maybe I was never meant for Earth.

  Another branch cracked, then thudded down before them. The trees swayed and creaked. Fox thought he saw red eyes in the darkness, and he raised his flashlight, but the eyes vanished. A hiss sounded behind him, and he spun around,
but it was only the wind.

  The warships attacked the ISS Nazareth.

  The bolts of plasma slammed into the hull, broke through, washed over his friends.

  Fox screamed as the claws dug into his leg, exposing the bone.

  He gritted his teeth and trudged onward through the snow, shoving the memories down, burying them under his fury.

  Keep moving. Find the bastard. Never back down. You are not prey. You are the hunter.

  The trees danced around him. The shadows swirled. The forest whispered and laughed. And his family screamed.

  His brothers—reaching out to him.

  His wife and children—screaming as the scorpions carried them away.

  The millions—burning in the gulocks.

  And Fox—alone. A soldier. A warrior.

  His tears flowed in the darkness where nobody could see.

  My family. My friends. Gone. Slaughtered like sheep. But I'm a hunter. Never back down. Never run. Never be a sheep. Hunt. Hunt them all.

  And so he kept moving through the forest, lost now in the wilderness, his rifle aimed ahead.

  "Sarge!" Chapman said. "I hear something. Hissing. It's one of them. One of the monsters. Oh God, I saw—"

  "Get a grip, Private," Fox said.

  "Look!" Chapman pointed his flashlight. "Oh God, Sarge! Muck, it's huge! It's there! Sarge!"

  The private fumbled for his rifle, but his hands were stiff, fingers freezing, and the rifle jammed.

  Fox pointed his flashlight.

  And he saw it.

  The blood drained from his face.

  The basilisk lurked before him on the forest floor.

  God, the size of it, Fox thought.

  The beast was as large as an oak. The flashlight illuminated green scales. Several bullet holes dripped blood. Fox might have mistaken it for an Earth snake, perhaps a python or anaconda, but this creature had arms—thin yet muscular, tipped with claws like daggers.

  An alien, Fox thought. An apex predator. A hunter.

  "Who are you?" Fox cried out. "Talk to us. Negotiate with us. We seek peace with your kind."

  The basilisk did not move. Its blood still dripped. Perhaps it was dying, too weak to keep fleeing. Yet it fixed Fox with a venomous glare. A forked tongue flicked between its fangs.

  "We … want … one … thing."