Vermin - An Original Short Story by K H Simmons

Part 2 of 3

Carla and Alexei have been with me for a long time. I know I can count on them to give me their honest feedback, they share a glance.

‘I agree we don’t need a panic,’ Carla starts.

‘But?’ I press.

‘We need to be ready. You can’t expect people to be ready if they don’t know what they’re ready for,’ she continues. ‘If we’re going to be hunted, we need a head start.’

‘This attack might have been a one off. We don’t know if the invaders drink, but perhaps this was something like a drunken night out or kids messing around pulling the legs off spiders,’ I try not to grimace.

Thinking of us, my friends, my family, like that, was disgusting. It leaves me filled with hatred and fear. The disgusted look I receive from Alexei was enough to tell me my phrasing was off.

‘I’m sorry,’ I hold up my hands. ‘I’m not meaning to be disrespectful. What I mean is, I don’t want to uproot everything we have here because of a one off.’

‘And if it wasn’t?’ Alexei asks.

I can tell by his tone I’ve hurt his feelings. After four years or so of trading with them, the loss has cut him deep.

‘If it wasn’t, we need to be ready,’ Carla adds.

Pushing feelings of guilt aside, I nod slowly. They are right. We can’t afford to get sloppy. We had been here for four nearly five years, before that we had moved from place to place as the invader’s expansion dictated. Being safe had made me soft. We had a life here, a home. Sure, I still made sure we had defences and lookouts. We had evacuation protocols in place that everyone knew, but we’d never used them. We’d never needed to. I realise now that that is a problem. We are comfortable here.

‘Ok, we’ll call a meeting. Let’s keep the hunting part quiet though. We can be on high alert without panicking,’ I hope.

Carla and Alexei agree. They remain in the storeroom to update the inventory while I leave to try to prepare my speech. Forcing a natural-looking smile onto your face when you are filled with a consuming sense of dread is one of those things that you get good at with practise. I was there when the invaders arrived. I’d had a lot of practise.

Just before the sunset we all gather in the greenhouse around a fire. There is thirty-two of us in total, including six children. We have all come from different backgrounds, there is a lawyer, a teacher, a mechanic, a shop assistant – all titles which no longer matter. As vermin we do what we can to survive. Whether that is cooking, cleaning, hunting, scavenging or digging latrines. We all do our part. I look around at each of their faces. They are cold, but content. They have enough food, water and shelter. Fear, at least outside of the normal, hasn’t troubled us for a while. It is difficult meeting their eyes knowing that might all change now.

They are all my family. I don’t want them to have to live their lives like this. I sigh, my breath misting before me. There is no choice for vermin like us.

‘I’d like to start by saying welcome back to Carla and Alexei,’ I begin. The group raise a quiet cheer for them. They are nervous being outside so close to sunset. Soon we will have to douse the fire and retreat into the meagre safety of the farm shop. Normally two people would go to the hides to take the first watch. Tonight, I’ll make it four, me being one of them.

‘While they were out in the wastes Carla and Alexei witnessed increased invader activity,’ I pause as whispers travel the rough circle. ‘They might be heading our way, and that is a big might. However,’ I hold up my hand to quash the agitated mumblings. ‘We should be cautious. They might not come this far out. They never have before, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t. We can’t afford to get lax. So, we’ll be having double watch duty. I’ll join the first shift.’

Scared glances are shared around the fire. Terry, one of our older members and ex-armed forces raises his hand. ‘I’ll take first shift too,’ he volunteers.

I nod my thanks. ‘Everyone make sure you are up to date on the evacuation protocols. If you hear the alarm, I don’t want any slackers, you grab your gear if you can and you run to the nearest, safest meeting point. In the morning we’ll work on improving our defences. Any questions?’

A few cold fingers rise into the air, silhouetted against the orange sky.

‘Why now? This land is worthless to them, isn’t it?’ Megan asks, clutching her daughter, Elle against her side.

‘I don’t know. None of us claim to know the reasoning behind what the invaders do. The why doesn’t really matter. What matters is that we’re prepared, and we survive. It’s what we’ve always done,’ I answer.

‘I want to fight!’

Gasps follow. Everyone stares at Tyler. He is a teenager. In our world that means he is an adult, just a young one. When the invasion started, he was just a kid. He is lucky enough not to remember what that was like. What he does know is that his parents had died in the first wave. Terry had found him hiding in the ruins of his apartment block. He’d kept him safe until they found us. Then we’d all kept each other safe. He’d been raised by all of us. Now his adolescent face is twisting with pent up anger.

‘I want to fight,’ he growls again.

Terry places a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head. Tyler shrugs it off.

‘Why not?’ Tyler asks. ‘You’re all cowards!’

He stands up in defiance of us all.

‘We can’t. Believe me son, we would if we could. I want to kill the things as much as anyone,’ Terry answers. ‘We’ve all lost something…someone to the invaders. We’ve all dreamt of revenge. That doesn’t make it possible though. To fight them is to die.’

Tyler clenches his fists. I figured a life of relative comfort and safety was bound to make anyone forget what it felt like to be so weak. He storms into the farm shop, although I know he is still listening from by the door.

‘I don’t like to remind us of what they can do,’ I say for the benefit of everyone, hoping that Tyler will understand. ‘I don’t want any of us to have to remember. Least of all, I don’t want any of us to have to witness first-hand what they are like. So, remember the protocols, make sure you’re ready, just in case.’

The tension in the air is as tangible as the smoke from the fire as we smother it. Questioning whether I’d made the right decision isn’t helping either. I hope I have. This must be better than telling them all that the invaders might be hunting humans for fun. It is a sobering thought. Whether I’d made the right decision or not, we have to deal with it.

So, as the rest of the group head inside for the night. Terry, Blanca, Nick and I wrap up ready for a night in the hides. We test the radios, check our weapons and make small talk about how cold it’s getting.

The hides are spread out around the garden centre. The furthest one is by the bridge that fords the stream where we get our water from. It gives the best view across the fields to where the closest invader population can be found. One is in a makeshift platform on the roof of the farm shop, this gives the best view around the camp, on a clear night you can see for miles from up there. Unfortunately, it’s also the most exposed to the elements. The next one is located at the edge of a field, nestled into the hedgerow, almost invisible to the naked eye. The final one is by the roadside in an abandoned car that had long since been left half in the ditch to rust. It’s by far the most comfortable of the hides, although that isn’t saying much.

To try and keep morale high, I volunteer to take the rooftop. There is a bitter wind whipping through the night air. Whoever was going to be up there was going to at least have numb fingers and toes, I figure it might as well be me.
I climb the ladder and tuck down into the platform. My rifle is propped up beside me as I kneel with my binoculars looking out across the fields. I have a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, although it does little to shield me from the biting wind. Racing clouds overhead make it difficult to make much out beyond the hedgerows that separate the camp from the fields. Every now and again a partially filled moon breaks free and for a few moments the fields are bathed in silvery light before being plunged back into shadow again.

I blow into my cupped hands to try to warm them. They ache with the cold. It’s hard to stop myself from shivering.
About an hour into the shift the booms begin. They echo through the air and vibrate the ground. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. They come from the invader’s city. We weren’t sure, but we guessed that it came from some kind of heavy machinery that was mining the earth for resources. They only ever do it at night. They only ever do anything at night. They are strictly nocturnal. Unfortunately, that isn’t much of a weakness. They sleep during the day, but it doesn’t make them any less dangerous.

For ten long years we’d pondered over the problem. As far as we were aware no one has come up with an answer. They simply aren’t killable. At least not by us. The only thing that seems to be capable of harming them is themselves. It must have been about six years ago when we were fleeing yet another camp. There was only around fifteen of us then. We were still trying to fight for an existence in the city. The longer we stayed, the more the invader’s territory consumed everything in its path.

So, we ran again. Only that time we were slow. For that, we faced the consequences. Three people didn’t make it, my wife being one of them. She stayed behind trying to help the slow ones to get moving. The invaders caught them. I knew I shouldn’t watch. I knew I should keep running. From my position on the overpass I could see everything. She looked up at me, willing me to keep running. I’d seen what was about to happen before, so I knew what was coming next. Every part of my being wanted to jump down there and fight for her. I didn’t. If I had, most likely none of us would be here today.

Only what I had expected to happen didn’t occur straight away. The invaders began squabbling. Whether it was over who got the kill or maybe an insult, I have no idea. That day I witnessed them turn on each other. While our bullets bounced harmlessly off their carapaces, their glowing red blades cut through it like butter. They threw psionic bursts at one another that tore off mandibles and legs like they were nothing more than insects. My wife tried to run, but her good nature got the better of her again. She tried to save the other two. In return she received a stray psionic blast to the face.

Once you’ve witnessed the skin stripped from your lover’s skull and seen their eyeballs melting down their cheek bones – you realise that there is no hope. There is nothing left. The only choice is to run. So, we kept running. We left the city and carved out this living for ourselves in the countryside. Over the years more people trickled in, joining our little sanctuary away from the nightmares of the city. Everyone was welcome as long as two things were clear to them. One – no one gets a free pass; everyone does their part. Two – this is only a home for as long as it’s safe, at the first sign of trouble we run.

It’s pretty simple, if you’re caught – you’re dead. Sometimes the only thing you can do is run. I learnt that the hard way. Sometimes I wonder if my wife regretted trying to help the others before she died. I suppose I’ll never know.

About Me

I'm Katy, but go by K H Simmons officially. I write a lot of sci-fi, dark fantasy and dystopian fiction. If you're here for sparkly vampires, you're in the wrong place ;)

I frequently post short stories on my Facebook page, as well as work on full length novels. If you want more short stories like the above - check out my anthology Death, Demons & Dystopia available on Amazon/Kindle.

When I'm not writing, I can usually be found cuddling dogs, reading, at the gym or playing video games.