A Memory of Mankind: (This Alien Earth Book 2) by Paul Antony Jones

Author:Paul Antony Jones [Jones, Paul Antony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aethon Books
Published: 2019-12-16T22:00:00+00:00

Eleven

Chou led us out of the robot graveyard back along the path we’d taken when we fled the Brimstone. I wouldn’t have had any idea where we were or how we had gotten there, but Chou unhesitatingly maneuvered us through the trees, stopping every now and then to look and listen for any signs of the search parties we were sure were still out looking for us.

A few minutes later, she stopped suddenly then slowly dropped to her knees. Freuchen and I did the same, huddling close to her. We waited silently for over a minute, the rain smacking and popping all around us.

“What is it?” I whispered.

Chou threw a finger to her lips, then whispered back, “Listen.”

I strained to hear over the thud of the rain.

“I don’t hear any—“

The unmistakable crackle of radio static followed by a muffled voice filtered through the trees ahead of us.

Freuchen tensed.

I began to say we should hide, but Chou reached out a hand and covered my mouth. She nodded to a thicket of bushes between a tightly packed group of trees.

Two figures—a woman and a man—emerged from behind the bushes. Both wore Brimstone uniforms: gray jackets and pants, and gray baseball caps. They were facing away from us, but I instinctively pushed myself closer to the tree trunk we were sheltering under.

The man held a walkie-talkie in his left hand, an ax tucked into his belt. The woman had a large knife attached to her belt. The man pressed the walkie-talkie to his mouth and said, in what sounded like French-accented English, “Charlie-party responding; no sign of the missing prisoners.”

“Roger Charlie-party. The captain says take another thirty minutes, then head back here before it gets dark. Copy?”

“Copy,” the man said. He clipped the walkie-talkie back onto his belt. It continued to chatter as the radio operator back on the airship reached out to other search parties. They began walking in a diagonal path that would bring them close to where we hid.

The woman said, “I’m going to die of pneumonia before we find them in this rain. What a waste of time. I’m soaked to the skin.”

The man replied, “Which would you prefer: dying of pneumonia or going back, empty-handed?”

The woman grunted. “I suppose you’re right, but we weren’t the ones who allowed them to escape in—“

Chou leaped from our hiding spot. She hit the man in the side of the temple with her elbow and sent him sprawling to the ground, unconscious already judging by the way he collapsed face-first without trying to break his fall. The woman had time to turn in surprise, giving me a moment to see she was about my age, her green eyes wide in astonishment before Chou threw an arm around her throat and proceeded to choke the life out of her. When it was over, Chou allowed the woman’s body to fall to the ground then turned her attention to the unconscious man. Before I could object, she dispatched him with a brutal twist of his head.

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