Offshoots: We Kill Humans, #1

By Brian Clopper

Maggie and Heath won't be finishing high school. Ever. The arrival of the Makers made sure of that. Their ships hovered above major cities, dispersing a bioweapon that transformed a subset of humanity into the Altered, mutated killing machines programmed to scrub clean all that remains of mankind. But the aliens miscalculated. A certain population didn't fully transform. These hybrids, Offshoots, must overcome the fear they inspire and use their special abilities to overthrow the aliens. Maggie and Heath are blessed and cursed to be the first of the Offshoots. They, along with others of their kind, must unite the scattered humans to fight back with them against the Makers and their engineered army, the Altered. A fast-paced alien invasion epic begins here!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Behemoth Books
• Release date: Mar 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524265076

Book preview

Chapter 1

Heath Milton: Eighteen Days after Offshoot

I tore across the open field, in effect foolishly daring one of the Altered to target me. To others, I#x2019d be a blur. Hopefully, no one would mistake me for a Tagger and try to shoot me down. Back in Bismarck, that had happened far too often as we#x2019d tried to escape. Not that I could blame those few survivors still holed up in their homes. They#x2019d endured too many crazy threats already.

I vaulted over a small rock outcropping and landed next to an abandoned tractor. The bottoms of my shoes were warm to the touch. I had to watch the amount of friction I generated. And to think I#x2019d never made it on the track team for two years running.

I looked around. It was almost night, and the temperature hovered around fifty degrees, a cool day for early August. Had the Makers done something to affect the weather as well? I wouldn#x2019t put it past them. Why not heap more misery on what was left of the human race?

My sprint through the open hadn#x2019t brought anything down on me that I could tell. No Drones swooped in from above, and I was reasonably sure any Bruisers in the area would be out of it until tomorrow. Thankfully, the past two days had been cloudy. No sun meant the brutes couldn#x2019t recharge and would stay in their passive modes. That#x2019s what made overcast days excellent for supply runs; one less baddie to contend with.

That just left Taggers and Splitters. And as fast as I was now, I still couldn#x2019t outrun either, not that any Splitters had been spotted this far inland. Their dependency on salt water could be thanked for that.

I knew Maggie waited for me back at the barn, probably inventorying our dwindling supplies one more time.

I looked to the west, to Bismarck. I had put only a hundred miles between the here-and-now and my former life, but it felt even more distant. Thirty-six days had passed since the Makers had appeared.

No high school graduation for me.

The downfall of humankind could be divided into two phases, the Arrival and the Altered. What I had become, an Offshoot, wasn#x2019t part of the Makers#x2019 plan. We couldn#x2019t possibly be the third prong of their attack. We were something else.

College and the next big step weren#x2019t going to happen.

What had Maggie called us? Aberrations, outliers. I felt a better label might be the Stubborn, or if the few humans we had encountered so far were to be believed—Freaks.

This new life wouldn#x2019t bring a well-paying job, a wife and kids.

Maggie was big about labels, having given all the Altered their names except for the Bruisers. That had been Roy#x2019s one contribution before his death.

I looked down at my arms, willing the four quills jutting out from the underside of each forearm to retract into my overly muscular limbs. They quickly disappeared.

The smaller quills that arrayed themselves along my lower jaw like a thorny beard were harder to hide. No amount of concentration had gotten them to slip back under my skin. From a distance, they could pass for a beard, but up close their blue hue gave away my origin as an Offshoot. At least my thick brown hair still hid the pair of minor horns that trailed backward from the top of my scalp. If I were a full-blown Tagger, those horns would be longer and flexible, allowing me to commune with other Taggers—not that I had any desire to do so. I shivered.

I crouched behind the large rear tire of the farm vehicle and eyed the yellow-sided farmhouse. No lights. Correction, no open fires from candles or torches. Lights and electricity hadn#x2019t been around since the Arrival.

I looked for signs of life. Did the owners still huddle within or had they become one of the Altered and scampered off to join their mutated brethren?

I again looked to the sky. The longer I lingered here, exposed, the more likely it was I would be spotted by a Drone patrol. Their eyesight was impressive. Back in Bismarck, they had spotted Maggie and her dog from nearly a mile away. I had managed to rescue her but not Max.

I trained my eyes on the farmhouse#x2019s upper windows. Strangely, two had been boarded up. Why do that? Wouldn#x2019t it be smarter to fortify the windows on the first floor? Maybe it would be wise to skip this house and try for another. But the next one could be miles away.

I drew in a breath, using my lungs and not the four tiny slits that fluttered open and closed on their own along my collarbone. If I were a true Tagger, those same slits would be longer and terminate up behind my ears. At least these smaller neck slits could be hidden by a shirt as they stood now. Who knew if I was done changing. I could wake up tomorrow to be an Altered, my thoughts no longer my own. But it had been nearly twenty days since my transformation had stalled at this halfway point. If I was going to become one of them, that should#x2019ve happened within a few days of my exposure to the cloud.

I ran to the side of the house, only feet away from the front porch. I pressed my back against the siding and sniffed the air. My sense of smell was killer now, perhaps even better than a bloodhound. Maggie had put me in my place about the degree to which my abilities extended. With my sense of smell, she told me it probably settled in somewhere just above an average canine and well below the pinnacle of excellent sniffers, a bear. Maggie was a treasure trove of useless facts like that. Although, quite a bit of her observations had helped us escape death on numerous occasions, something that had earned her my gratitude and trust. For someone three years younger than me, she was scary smart. Who#x2019d have thought a freshman had so much locked away in their head like she did?

The smell of cooked meat made me salivate. Whoever was inside wasn#x2019t an Altered. They didn#x2019t cook their prey. But if it was human, how stupid were they to be letting such a pronounced smell escape? A small posse of Taggers could hone in on such a strong scent in no time.

I stiffened, detecting another smell, one that threatened to trigger my flight response. It was all I could do not to bolt. I steadied my breath and moved toward the vicinity of the second smell. As I slipped toward the back of the house, the alarming odor increased, becoming nigh overwhelming. My heart pounded in my chest, the desire to flee so strong. I froze and looked up. I was directly below the room with the boarded-up windows. I took in another whiff, this time using my neck slits to better filter out the other smells.

Yep, definitely a Bruiser within. What does that mean? Is it dead? I sniffed again. No, a live one.

I coughed, slightly overwhelmed by the Altered#x2019s heavy musk.

So what did I know? Cooked meat meant a human or possibly an Offshoot was inside. But also the crazy idiot had a live Bruiser in there as well. What were they doing? Had they lost their minds? I mean, it was obviously deprived of sunlight. The boarded-up windows led me to that conclusion, but why would someone risk so much?

Then it dawned on me―the person inside had a Bruiser held hostage! Any Altered that came across this house would scent the creature and keep out. Taggers didn#x2019t mix with Bruisers. In turn, Bruisers were territorial and would steer clear unless forced to face down a fellow Bruiser. I had heard rumors of such confrontations but didn#x2019t believe it. Altered fighting each other? So far all I had seen from them was an undying drive to kill humans and those like me.

I looked up at the darkening sky. It made no sense to travel any farther with night coming. I would head back. We had enough food to last us one more week. We#x2019d wait for another overcast day to head out and find a better house to ransack.

I drew in a breath, relieved I would not be going inside. While I was curious to see who was crazy enough to hole up with an Altered, I also didn#x2019t think my presence would be welcome.

A voice hissed from behind me. Turn around slowly and don#x2019t even think about running. I heard the click of a safety being switched off.

I turned around to see the person crazy enough to make a Bruiser a bedfellow and even crazier to try and talk to someone who looked like a Tagger.

The grey-haired man had to be pushing fifty. Wearing a denim shirt and brown work pants that were equally dirty, he glared back at me, rifle pointed at my chest. Interesting, you understood me. That#x2019s something new. He looked me up and down. Little off-looking for one of them Runners. He sighed. Oh, well, better safe than sorry.

He fired his gun, and I screamed.

Chapter 2

Heath Milton: Not Filled with Holes

I dove left and vaulted toward the thick trunk of a nearby tree. His shot missed me, just barely. My feet impacted with the bark, and I resisted the compulsion to flex my toe claws and grab hold; no sense ruining another pair of shoes. I pushed off and flew horizontally for nearly twenty feet before bringing my feet down and scampering toward the house. I raced up the side of the building, a feat that still gave me a thrill.

The man fired at me again as I exited his field of view and stumbled onto the sloped roof. I could run up the side of most two-story structures but not much more.

Get down from there and die, monster! He huffed and wheezed, clearly worked up and frightened.

I won#x2019t hurt you, I said.

Silence. Not even any strained breathing.

Please don#x2019t shoot, I said, trying to sound harmless. I#x2019m not one of them.

Sure look like one of those Runner things, he said, barely above a whisper.

I slid my head into view, knowing I could pull it back out of sight before he got off a shot. Thank you very much, disturbingly fast alien reflexes.

Below, the man looked up at me, slowly moving the gun barrel to line up with my head.

I#x2019m not Altered.

Still tense, the man said, Get down. You want to talk, we#x2019ll talk.

I looked around. It was nearly dark now. Some of the clouds had thinned in spots, exposing the first light of nighttime stars. We shouldn#x2019t be outside. Too risky. Tempting a Drone attack.

The man wrinkled his face, confused. Drones? No one flies those little machines around. The Emerson boy had one, but he#x2019s gone. He lowered his rifle and seemed at a loss for words.

No, the flying monsters, the ones who swarm around, we call them Drones. I stepped closer to the edge, exposing myself to him from the waist up.

You got names for all of them, do you? What#x2019s that make you, one of them Runners?

Those are Taggers. I#x2019m not quite like them. I jumped down, landing neatly about ten feet away from the man.

His eyes widened. You move like them. No human can drop from that height and not twist an ankle or break something. He raised his gun but pointed it more at my waist.

That was good. Aiming it at my head would mean he was not buying what I was selling.

I#x2019m an Offshoot. I scanned the skies, looking for any movement out in the fields surrounding the property. With the grasses past knee height, I could easily spot any incoming Taggers by looking for disturbances in the swaying blades.

I don#x2019t follow. The world is crazy now. Monsters everywhere.

Like the Bruiser you have prisoner inside?

His eyes darted to the closed-off windows and back to me. He raised his rifle and stiffened. How#x2019d you know about her?

Struck a nerve. He didn#x2019t like me figuring out his little game.

You have it locked up in there, keeping it away from the sun so it#x2019ll stay passive. Smart thinking. Any Altered come around here, they#x2019ll smell it and stay away. My eyes narrowed. How#x2019d you lure it inside without it tearing apart you or your house?

Not an it, a she. The gun again dropped, and the man buried his face in his left hand. He sobbed and then looked back up at me through his widespread fingers. Regina. The cloud came, and I lost her. She changed.

Your wife?

He shook his head. My daughter. She#x2019s only fourteen.

In the distance I thought I spotted movement in the fields. Listen, we should get inside. We#x2019re going to attract the wrong kind of attention if we stay out here. I nodded toward the section of farmland where I thought I#x2019d seen something.

Attracting any sort of attention these days ain#x2019t a good thing. He slouched briefly, then scrutinized that stretch of field for a long time, squinting and straining to spot what had me on edge. Finally, he looked at me and shrugged. Guess you got better eyes than me. I#x2019ll take your word.

He walked to the front porch and climbed up the four narrow steps. He nudged the rickety screen door open with his rifle and waved for me to follow. Name#x2019s Hampton Caesar. Yours?

Good, he#x2019s starting to think of me as human. Heath Milton.

He pointed at my knives, one strapped to each of my thighs. Never seen a Tagger carry around human weapons. Not sure how I feel about letting you in armed like that.

I wouldn#x2019t hand them over. I won#x2019t draw them on you as quickly as you pointed your gun at me.

He looked me up and down. Finally, he said, Fair enough. Hold onto your pigstickers.

We entered, and he closed the door behind us, locking it and slapping in place the small deadbolt. I pictured the simple wooden door splintering to pieces under the weight of an Altered attack. It offered little protection for Hampton and his family.

Is it just you and your daughter? I asked as he led me into a small dining room, the table stacked high with cans of food. His stockpile I supposed.

You#x2019d think. He spun around and sneered at me. But why would I tell you more than you needed to know?

There was a brief scuffing noise from behind and then something hard hit me in the back of the head.

Everything went black.

Chapter 3

Maggie Elmers: Sixteen Days after Offshoot

Heath would deny it, but I knew he sensed our bond.

As I returned the can of pork and beans to the lower shelf, the faint spark within me that was my lifeline to Heath suddenly flared and faded.

Heath didn#x2019t like that I referred to the pair of us as Taggers Lite, but what better way to describe our condition. We were transitional creatures, hybrids of a sort. Not quite human and not fully Altered either. Otherwise, we#x2019d be out hunting down and slaughtering our fellow humans.

Heath didn#x2019t like to look inward, a likely reason why he didn#x2019t acknowledge we could keep tabs on each other. While I had no idea where my friend was, it was clear trouble had found him. His spark only faded when he slept, a fact I had discovered our first night together when he#x2019d slept first shift. The light in my mind that I attributed to him had dimmed. When I woke him up to keep watch, the same light had intensified back to its normal glow.

I tried to teach him how to sense the glow, but he never seemed to be able to. Part of me thought it was just him blocking out the ability, putting up mental firewalls. I couldn#x2019t blame him there. As I had grown accustomed to my ability to sense him, I had also become aware that I could pick up any Taggers nearby. While doing so had spared us capture and death on three occasions, the essences I latched onto for the Altered made me queasy and gave me searing headaches. I had not explored this ability but knew eventually I#x2019d have to rely on it. We both knew our days were numbered. If one of us bought it, the other would have to soldier on. Heath relied on me to spot Taggers, but he#x2019d have to learn to access the talent someday.

Heath had turned two days before me. In fact, he#x2019d stumbled across me as I was out of it, in mid-transformation. Then, he hadn#x2019t known if I would end up a true Tagger or not. Becoming an Offshoot was a new development, something that had frightened both of us in the early days as we had come to grips with our new forms.

I pulled the two cans of dog food off the shelves and debated whether to toss them or not. Max was no longer with me. What did we need to keep around dog food for?

In case we grew desperate and our supply runs began yielding nothing. Already, two runs last week had only managed to grow our stash by a whopping total of six cans, and one of those had been dented and missing a label. No telling