A.L.I.V.E. (The A.L.I.V.E.Series Book 1) Read online

  A.L.I.V.E.

  An A.L.I.V.E. Series Novel

  R.D. Brady

  Scottish Seoul Publishing, LLC

  Contents

  Books By R.D. Brady

  Untitled

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Chapter 112

  Chapter 113

  Chapter 114

  Chapter 115

  Chapter 116

  Chapter 117

  Chapter 118

  Chapter 119

  FACT OR FICTION?

  About the Author

  120. The Belial Warrior

  Books By R.D. Brady

  The Belial Series (in order)

  Stand-Alone Books

  Acknowledgments

  Untitled

  Books By R.D. Brady

  THE BELIAL SERIES (In Order)

  The Belial Stone

  The Belial Library

  The Belial Ring

  Recruit: A Belial Series Novella

  The Belial Children

  The Belial Origins

  The Belial Search

  The Belial Guard

  The Belial Warrior

  The Belial Plan (February 2017)

  STAND ALONE NOVELS

  Runs Deep

  Hominid

  The A.L.I.V.E. Series Prequels

  B.E.G.I.N.

  The A.L.I.V.E. Series

  A.L.I.V.E.

  D.E.A.D. (Winter 2017)

  “There are some hundred billion (1011) galaxies, each with, on the average, a hundred billion stars. In all the galaxies, there are perhaps as many planets as stars, 1011 x 1011 = 1022, ten billion trillion. In the face of such overpowering numbers, what is the likelihood that only one ordinary star, the Sun, is accompanied by an inhabited planet?"

  - Carl Sagan, “The Shores of the Cosmic Ocean,”

  Cosmos, 1980

  "If aliens visit us, the outcome would be much as when Columbus landed in America, which didn't turn out well for the Native Americans."

  - Stephen Hawking, Into the Universe with

  Stephen Hawking, 2010

  Chapter One

  Seven Months Ago

  Lowry Air Force Base, Colorado

  Four medics ran along next to the stretcher bearing Devon Shantz.

  “Make it stop!” Devon screamed, his skin pale despite his tan. Sweat and blood soaked through the blue Oxford he wore. Blood pooled on the stretcher, dripping over the side, leaving a trail to follow to the infirmary in spite of the bandages being used to stem the ever increasing flow.

  Martin Drummond followed the blood trail as he walked behind the moving medical emergency. A black suit with a white shirt and black tie covered his tall, gaunt frame. His dark hair was long and pulled back behind his ears. He knew that the nickname Angel of Death had been attached to him back at Langley, in part due to his appearance but also his skills. But today as he followed Devon, the name was not hyperbole.

  His aide would not survive those wounds. He’d seen the man’s intestines through the rips in his skin and he knew they had ruptured as well. If he didn’t die of blood loss, sepsis would undeniably set in and kill him.

  Ahead, the doors to the medical unit at Lowry Air Force Base stood open, waiting for its newest patient. The medics hustled the stretcher into the unit and right to the waiting doctors, already gowned.

  “Get him on the table,” the female doctor ordered.

  Martin stepped into the unit. A flurry of medical individuals in blue scrubs blocked Martin’s view as they worked frantically to save Devon’s life. Martin pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket and lit one up as he leaned against a wall. An older woman in a nurse’s uniform pursed her lips and started to walk over, but she was intercepted by another nurse who spoke urgently to her after a quick nervous glance back at Martin.

  The first nurse glanced at him again, this time with traces of fear before she headed out the other door.

  Martin took a long, satisfying drag, his feet crossed at the ankles, picturing the attack on Devon. It had happened so fast. The guards with them had been stunned. Martin had his weapon cleared of its holster before they’d even begun to react. But even then, he’d known it was too late for Devon.

  Dr. Hasan Verma, the head of the medical unit, walked into the room. He glanced over at the flurry of activity around Devon before making his way to Martin. “Mr. Drummond, are you all right?”

  Martin took a slow drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out. Most of it hit the doctor in his face. Dr. Verma pulled his head back with a grimace but said nothing.

  “I’m fine, but I cannot say the same for my aide.”

  “We have the best medical staff here. They will do everything in their power—”

  “He won’t
make it. You know that as well as I do.”

  Dr. Verma nodded. “Most likely. But were you hurt in any way?”

  Martin shook his head. “No.”

  Dr. Verma’s gaze flicked to the bottom of Martin’s shirt. Martin followed his gaze and noticed for the first time the dark blue spot that had spread there. Surprise flashed through him. I didn’t realize it had gotten so close.

  He met the doctor’s gaze. “Obviously that blood is not mine.”

  “A med unit was dispatched for the creature as well.”

  Martin raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  The doctor frowned. “To—to see if it could be saved.”

  Martin dropped the cigarette and smashed it under his shoe. “Then tell them to stop and make sure the thing is dead.”

  “But, sir—”

  “Dead, Dr. Verma, tell them to make sure it is dead.” With one last look at Devon, he strode for the doors, pulling out his phone, careful to make sure that no one saw him smile.

  Chapter Two

  Today

  Dayton, Ohio

  The horse’s hooves thundered across the field, her flank damp with sweat. Maeve Leander’s fingers ached as she clutched the reins. Alejandra’s dark mane flew behind her, as did Maeve’s own hair. She’d pushed Alejandra hard and had nearly been thrown a few times. But she didn’t dare slow down. Instead she silently begged—please, my friend, go faster.

  She’d heard about the raiders when she had been in town. She’d crossed through Copper Canyon to avoid the roads and cut her time in half. But now the road was her only option. Caution dictated she slow down but fear wouldn’t let her. She knew she had already pushed the old girl too hard. But she still urged Alejandra to go just a little bit faster. And the horse responded as if she too understood what was at stake.

  As soon as the horse gained traction on the dirt road, her pace picked up. But not before Maeve saw that which she was dreading—hoofprints. Lots of them.

  No, no, no. Terror slid over her. The reins became slick in her hands.

  A waft of gray smoke drifted over the hill in the distance. Disbelief and fear fought inside of Maeve, each trying to gain the upper hand.

  She leaned forward, keeping her focus on the hilltop, not letting herself think what the smoke meant. It can’t be. It cannot be, she repeated to herself as Alejandra began the climb. She kept up the mantra as they ascended. Finally, she reached the peak, and her family’s farm came into view.

  Maeve reined Alejandra in sharply. Her breath left her body in a gasp just as sharp, and the fear she’d been shoving away broke free, threatening to swallow her whole.

  A pyre of flames burned brightly in front of the barn, gray smoke wafting up angrily from the blaze. Even from this distance, she could make out the red shawl being engulfed by the flames, the body it still clung to already burning. Tears streamed down her cheeks and a hole developed in her chest, threatening to split her in two. “Mama.”

  No one else was in sight. Just her family's home and the barn, watching in silent horror as her mother left this world in ashes. Maeve wanted nothing more than to turn Alejandra around and flee. But she knew she needed to check.

  She needed to be sure her mother was the only one they had found.

  Maeve Leander’s eyes flew open. Mama. She reached up and felt the tears on her cheek. She stared at the ceiling, her reality coming into focus as the dream faded. But the feelings of grief remained, raw and deep. She swiped at the tears on her cheeks, but new ones replaced the old. And this time it was for her own mother, not the girl in the dreams.

  Alice Leander had died over a year ago from breast cancer, but at moments like these her death seemed like it had occurred just yesterday.

  A vision from the dream returned, the red shawl covering the body as it burned in the pyre. Maeve shivered at the memory. Her dreams had been so vivid lately. And they all revolved around the same place—Mexico. She’d never been to Mexico in her life, and she couldn’t understand the source of the dreams. Her subconscious was obviously trying to tell her something. But what?

  The alarm clock on her side table blared to life. Sitting up, Maeve fumbled for the button to switch it off.

  She sat with her head in her hands for moment, her dark wavy hair tumbling over her shoulders. With an impatient gesture she pushed it back.

  She’s gone, but she would want you to be happy. She would want you to keep going.

  She knew her affirmation was right, and she wasn’t one who gave up. But sometimes she just missed her so much. She sat for a moment staring around the Spartan one-bedroom apartment. A delivery person had arrived last week with the bed and asked if she’d just moved in. Maeve had told him yes, even though she’d been here for five years. But her life was not spent here. Here was where she slept, occasionally ate, and showered. Her real life occurred at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base.

  A small face appeared in her mind, chasing away her feelings of grief. She wasn’t alone. And there was still someone counting on her.

  Pushing herself from the bed, she crossed the short distance to her windows and pulled back the room’s darkening curtains. Bright sunlight streamed in and Maeve blinked hard, taking a step back. She glanced at the clock. 4:02 pm.

  Time to go to work.

  Chapter Three

  Maeve sat near the front of the bus reading her book as she and twenty others who worked at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base were driven toward the base. Security on the base was incredibly strict, especially for the research divisions. As of three weeks ago, no personnel were allowed to drive in. They were bussed from a parking area set up outside the base perimeter. All bags were checked before entering the bus and before leaving the installation. And no unauthorized personnel were allowed within three miles of the base. They said it was for construction, but Maeve was pretty sure it was a new security measure.

  From behind her, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around.

  Greg Schorn pushed the dark hair from his eyes, pushing his glasses up his nose. He nodded out the window. “What’s that?”

  Maeve looked up from her book with a frown. “What?”

  Greg nudged his chin toward the front of the bus. Maeve looked past the driver and saw the familiar fence of the base. But today there was something new—protestors.

  “Never seen that before,” Greg murmured. “I wonder how they managed it?”

  Maeve was just as baffled.

  Wooden sawhorses had been set up to keep the protestors from blocking the road. Military police lined up along the sawhorses as well.

  “I don’t get it. Why didn’t security just run them off?” Greg asked.

  Maeve read a few signs as they passed.

  Stop Animal Abuse.

  Animals Are Not Disposable.

  The protestors ranged in age from college students to senior citizens and all raised their fists towards the bus. Some yelled, although the heavy glass windows made their words impossible to discern. An animal rights demonstration?

  “I wonder which project they’re protesting,” Greg said.

  She wanted to turn around and ask Greg if he knew anything about the protest but she didn’t. One of the biggest rules of working at Wright-Patt’s National Air and Space Intelligence Center (NASIC), formerly the Foreign Technology Division, was that you never asked questions about what was happening on base unless it was absolutely necessary. In fact, Maeve had ridden the bus with these same twenty people for the last three weeks but she had known their faces for much longer. But she didn’t know what project a single one of them worked on—not even Greg, who she’d been friends with for years.

  The departments were all completely separated. Maeve herself had top-secret clearance and she simply assumed no one else did. It was just easier that way. Who the others worked for and what their clearance was she didn’t know and simply couldn’t risk finding out. Anyone who spoke with someone outside their project parameters about their research would be immediately dismissed.


  Maeve knew of three people that had been dismissed for violating that rule. And Maeve had way too much at stake to break it.

  But despite that precaution, she and Greg maintained the friendship they’d developed in college. In fact, Maeve was the reason Greg applied for the position at Wright-Patt. And Maeve enjoyed having a friendly face around, even if neither of them ever mentioned their work.

  The bus pulled up in front of Hangar One, and three people got off. Wright-Patterson Air Force Base had been established back in 1948 with the merging of Wright and Patterson fields. In fact, the base had its origins with the fathers of aviation: the Wright Brothers Huffman Prairie Flying Field. In 1917, it was established as a military installation. Since that time, the US military had used that same piece of land as a testing site for aviation. Now it had grown to cover almost twelve square miles and employed over twenty-seven thousand people, both military and civilian.

  Greg leaned forward. “Hey, did you do anything good this weekend?”

  Maeve shook her head. “I was here.”

  Greg shook his head. “You know, I’m dedicated to my research and all, but you take it to a whole new level.”

  You have no idea, Maeve thought but just smiled as the bus pulled up to her stop. “Lunch this week?”

  “Yeah. Let me know what’s good for you.”

  “Will do,” Maeve said as she headed for the door.

  With a nod of thanks to the driver, Sam, she stepped out into the cool night air. Building 23 stood fifty feet away. It was a square brick building only three stories high, one wall almost completely made of glass and dark metal framing. It looked completely unassuming and identical to another dozen buildings or so on the base.

  Maeve moved quickly up the short path and placed her hand on the palm plate at the front door. The door popped open and she stepped into the vestibule. A guard sat at a desk at the back of the foyer with a thick wall behind him. A steel door stood to the guard’s left, which led to the upper floors, and another one stood to the right, which housed another security detail. But even those guards weren’t allowed into the building itself unless there was an emergency.