The Ferals: Shackled - Book Two of the Ferals Trilogy

By Leigh Clapham

One year has passed since the Flu swept across the world and the ships descended from the sky.

One year since his parents died.

One year since he escaped the aliens.

One year since his brother didn't.

Now, Ryan and his friends are all that stand between the invaders and their new home. As they prepare to stand and fight, he can only wonder.

What happened to Jake?


The second book in the Ferals Trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jul 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9780244502126

Book preview

The Ferals: Shackled - Book Two of the Ferals Trilogy

The Ferals: Shackled

Book Two in the Ferals Trilogy

Leigh Clapham

Publisher: Leigh Clapham

2019

Copyright © 2019 by Leigh Clapham

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2019

ISBN 978-0-244-50212-6

Leigh Clapham

Woden Street

Salford, Greater Manchester, M5 4UU

Ordering Information:

Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, educators, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the above listed address.

U.S. trade bookstores and wholesalers: Please contact Leigh Clapham Email: [e-mail]

Acknowledgements

Little Rob; your endless patience, proofing, critiques, and questions made this book what it is.

Thank you.

Contents

The Ferals: Shackled Book Two in the Ferals Trilogy

Acknowledgements

The Pens

Scouting

Shackled

Sheffield

Master Among Servants

Evacuation

Steel

Etiquette

The Whip

Resistance

Ritual

Hackney

Endurance

Jinx

Elevation

Buckets and Bathwater

Learning

Ballroom

Beehive

Jackson

Pronouns

Breach

Shadow Council

Carnage

Unshackled

Hello

The Pens

Jake

12 Months Ago

Their cage was bulbous. Its bars flowed like a sculpture, enveloping them in a surreal embrace. The metal looked as though it had been grown, for no joints or bolts or welds were evident. It trapped them all in a bubble, a boil-like, oversized bubble atop the crab-like machine that they had been loaded into.

But Jake had no interest in the aesthetics of his cage, no interest in its construction, no interest in the vehicle it was attached too. He was too terrified for that. Too afraid to think of anything but his impending fate.

He had been helping one of the less able children of the village when the Squid had clambered down from the mountains. He’d tried to hide, had hidden himself and the boy in a coal shed, had kept his hand tight over his wards mouth to stop him shouting out.

But it had all been for nothing.

A black, segmented robot not unlike the aliens themselves in design, had smashed open the door and crawled in. It had looked at both of them intently with its oversized red eye centred in a swept back obsidian head; first at him, then at the boy.

Then, it rose from four feet to two, and ripped the boy from his grasp, who had screamed and screamed as Jake reached out, trying to grab a leg or a piece of clothing. But the robot merely threw the boy away like rubbish.

It was then that Jake had realised, with a new horror, that it wanted him.

He had been dragged from the shed, as the machine pulled him by the ankle. He had seen the boy splayed out in the snow some metres away, perfectly still in an expanding red frost.

Screaming, Jake had frantically latched on to anything he could, anything to hold on to, but the robot was too strong.

He remembered seeing others, just like him, being carried and dragged toward the village hall. One girl, only four at most, was holding the hand of a robot as it escorted her, almost like she’d made a friend.

They’d been thrown in a circle in the centre of the village, surrounded by robots and with the Squid looming overhead, both of which had taken a perverse interest in the screams emanating from the church, like two dogs sniffing around a badger’s den.

Surrounded by crying and wailing, he had looked frantically for Theo or Ryan or any of the others, but none where there. After a while, another machine had trotted down the mountain. This one was squat and sat atop six, multijointed legs. It’s flat, almost disk like head bore a single red eye in the centre, just like the Squid.

It looked just like a Crab.

They had been loaded aboard like cattle shortly after, and now, having clambered out of the valley, they were headed down the slopes toward Manchester, which glowed eerily in the distance.

His back burned from grazes and embedded stones, but he didn’t really notice.

All about him was crying, screaming, desperate attempts at comfort, people given over to despair. Children wide-eyed with terror, teenagers clutching at the strange bars of their cage, and in the centre of it all, sat Jake.

Jake, who knew he was about to die at the talons of aliens in the city he had spent days trying to escape.

Jake, who would never see his brother or boyfriend again.

Jake, who’s final words to Ryan had been in anger.

Tears burned tracks down his cheeks as he silently considered his life.

He thought of his mother, who used to gossip over the back-garden fence with the elderly Mrs. Morris, sharing stories of the latest scandal or slight to rock the neighbourhood.

Of his dad, who would spend his rare free days in the garden centre, dragging a bored Jake along so that he could teach him about the plants.

His brother, who had taught Mike Dennis the consequences of bullying Jake.

Of Theo, the shy athletic boy who could handle himself in a fight but who needed protecting more than anyone.

They were all lost to him.

Now, he could only hope to die as quickly and as painlessly as possible.

But remembering the Ferals talons, he could not help but envisage grizzly fates, of his throat being slit open and blood cascading down his torso as he gasped for air, of slow vivisection in some alien lab…

No, he would not give in like that. He had to be calm, had to stay aware.

He would die, yes, but he would die as him. He would be brave and die as Jake.

He began to take long, measured breaths. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

‘It’s too late for that.’

Jake heard the words, but he did not process them.

‘Too late for anything.’

He recognised the voice and opened his eyes.

Sat in front of him, was Alison.

Her hair was blood soaked and matted, and her eyes distant and unfocussed. This was not the strong, able, assured leader he had known, who had wrestled a gun from the hands of a treacherous friend or organised an entire village of adolescents into a community. This was a girl given over to fear, to defeat, to grim acceptance.

No, this was not the Alison he knew.

Jake didn’t answer, he just looked at her and realised she too would die soon. Perhaps at his side, perhaps not, but they would both die all the same.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm his thumping heart and slowly falling tears.

The city was coming into view as they came down the mountains at speed. The snow was still on the ground as far as the eye could see, but not in Manchester. In the six weeks since the aliens had arrived, the city had transformed.

A great invisible dome enveloped it for miles in all directions, trapping generated heat. The urban tones had given way to a great swathe of vibrant green, as lush jungle rose from the streets to swamp the skyline. The traditional grey overcast sky had been replaced with towering, sculpted clouds of brilliant white that now rose from the north and deluged in the south.

The ruins of his home would receive him and his fellow prisoners, and no doubt be his resting place.

He wished he could turn into a mouse and scurry through one of the gaps in the bars, land softly in the snow, and scuttle off to safety.

He wished he could tell Theo he loved him. He wished he could tell Ryan he was sorry, that he understood he was hurting.

He wished so many things, but none could dent his building panic.

The Crab was marching down the old motorway now, flanked on either side by blue signs and towering lampposts. Untouched buildings sat empty in the snow, no signs of life within any.

And then, they passed through the invisible shield, and an intense tropical heat hit them like a wall. He inhaled moist, tropical air, his arms and legs instantly became sheathed in sweat as his head hurt from the sudden change in temperature.

Here, grasses and flowers carpeted every inch of ground and surface, from the road to the tops of walls and crumpled wrecks of cars. Vines crept up buildings and had massed around the few standing lampposts he could make out, weaving intricate webs between the chimneys of abandoned houses, and dead trees that once stood in carefully manicured gardens.

Deeper they ventured into Manchester, with modern suburbs giving way to older, Victorian terraces. Many stood ruined, with roofs collapsed and walls crumbled, all drenched in moss, grass, and the ever-present vines. Flowers bloomed even in the dark corners, almost fluorescent in their colours, and just as varied in shape and form and origin as any terrestrial species.

Trees had begun to appear, saplings at first, that rose from the grasses and sought out the weak winter sun. Then bigger specimens, akin to old oaks in size, that had grown through shops and burst through the tarmac of the road, their trunks twisted as if they had grown in a spiral.

The Crab in which they rode began to slow now, as it made to avoid the sudden mature vegetation.

Soon, as they neared the centre of the city, the houses had given way to offices and tower blocks, flats and apartments. These too were growing green, but their upper stories were still bare, even as their lower floors vanished behind the foliage of alien trees and the creeping fronds of flowering ivy.

And then, the Crab disappeared under the canopy of the jungle for good. The buildings about them either collapsed into rubble from which innumerable trees grew or rose beyond the canopy, beyond sight.

Jake lay slumped against the bars, identifying familiar signs and establishments, breathing erratically in the heavy air.

The darkness of the forest floor gave way to dazzling light of winter day, as they entered a clearing.

Shielding his eyes, he squinted, making out broken road and shattered walls. Ahead of him, a huge rounded wall of wood blocked their path. The Crab reared up, pierced its front feet into the obstacle, and began to climb it. Screams and shouts filled his ears, and people slid by and into him, as the floor went from horizontal to vertical.

Their vehicle quickly reached its zenith, and Jake, suddenly righted, realised it was not a wall at all. They stood atop a massive root, wider than a lorry, longer than a football stadium, and taller than the buildings it had ploughed through.

It snaked down what he could now see was Deansgate, crashing through rows of structures before tapering out toward town hall.

In the other direction, it rose and became thicker, more robust, and yet he could not see its ultimate origin, for the Crab once more jerked and jangled, as it leapt into the air.

For one moment they all rose, screaming in unison, as into mid-air they floated, before crashing to the metal floor in a heap as they landed.

The Crab stopped.

Groans, cries for help, the raising of bodies from the tangle became merely the latest, temporary challenge for them to endure. Jake, who had hung on to the bars as best he could, pulled himself out from the edge of the heap of limbs and torsos, aching but uninjured.

‘Where are we?’ someone murmured.

Jake could only guess, for now it was darker, and the lush green that had so dominated their journey into the heart of Manchester had now vanished.

The floor rumbled, a hissing sound filled the air, and their Crab began to lower. They hit the ground, and the intricate web of bars retracted into the disk on which they stood.

As the bars vanished, he panicked. At the beginning of their journey they had kept him from freedom, now their loss exposed him to a danger.

His eyes adjusting, he rose to his feet. Great walls of brown brick, the shattered beams of an absent roof, light streaming in from the sky and broken windows. He was inside a long, rectangular building, its inner walls mostly demolished, its roof mostly absent. The air was damp, and electronic lights illuminated the interior.

And that’s when he noticed the fences.

Wooden, slatted partitions had been erected inside the building, creating larges enclosures. Above each, on a walkway that spanned the length of the cavernous building, patrolled Ferals on all fours. They slinked along the boards, their whiplike tails swaying in the dank air. Their tanned skin mottled with brown and orange patterns that glistened in the low light.

They glowered down into the pens through the great black lenses of their horn topped, bone white masks.

Jake stood frozen at the sight of them. Of the beasts that had leapt from rooftop to rooftop, hunting them like prey, that had claimed the lives of Connor and Amira, whose talons were razor sharp, who seemed more animal than alien.

This was it, he thought to himself; The place he would be cruelly killed.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, ignoring the whimpers of despair all about him. He promised to die as himself, to be brave at the end.

And he would be.

The obsidian robots emerged from compartments hidden within the disk on which they stood, eliciting fresh screams as people huddled together. But not Jake. He stood still, waiting; trembling, but waiting.

The robots surrounded them in a circle, five in all, and to their great shock, one of them spoke.

‘Disembark.’

The voice was metallic, but quiet and measured.

It gestured with one of its black limbs that functioned as both leg and arm in equal measure, to a steadily descending ramp.

The others remained cowed together, none daring to obey.

Jake looked at them, felt a deep longing to join them, cling to their familiarity, their safety. But he knew it was a lie, an instinct to keep him alive a moment longer.

No, he would be brave. Must be brave.

He turned, and to shouts from his fellows not to, descended the ramp.

At the base stood another indistinguishable robot.

‘Proceed.’

It gestured down a central corridor between the fences, and he walked, his legs jelly-like as he did.

He could hear the people from the village screaming as they were forced down from the Crab, but he did not look back.

He felt such fear that he walked like he did not know how to, with each step feeling alien and weird to him, sweat pouring down his face as his heart hammered in his ribcage.

Above him watched the Ferals, their gaze bearing down, predatory and lethal.

Were they playing with him? Was this how they preferred the meals? Marched down a corridor for inspection before one of their number leapt down and cut him open from neck to navel?

He stumbled at the thought, skidding in the thick muck.

Another robot emerged from the gloom; its red eye fixed upon him. It stood holding open a wooden door in the fence.

Its other limb gestured for him to enter, and shaking, he did.

Inside he was met with a new sight.

He had failed to notice them until now, but inside each pen, stood, sat, and slept, hundreds of teenagers and children. Many were filthy, covered in muck and dried blood, clothed in tattered rags, others where cleaner, and healthier looking. But none seemed crippled with terror, instead they sat about, mostly in silence, some in groups whispering, others slept. A few watched him enter, but most didn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps, they just didn’t care.

Others from the village followed him in.

Shutting the gate behind the last of them, the robot spoke in its quiet tone once more.

‘You will be assessed. Humans deemed useful will be retained and assigned to a task. Humans deemed useless will be disposed of.’

With that, it marched off, and they were left alone with their fellow prisoners.

A girl of no more than ten years old walked over to the new comers, her hair was so matted with dirt its original colour was a mystery, but she had a warm expression and bright eyes.

‘Hi. I’m Skye. Come in! We won’t hurt you.’

The villagers stood frozen on the spot, clinging to one and other.

‘It’s scary, I know, but they won’t be back for a while. You should rest.’

Again, no one moved.

‘What does it mean we’ll be assessed?’

Jake asked, surprised at his own question, and finding his voice was not as shaky as he felt.

Skye looked at him with glowing brown eyes, and her face flushed with a sympathy far beyond her years.

Whoever she was, she had delivered this kind of news often.

‘They need workers. We work, we help the forest grow and collect metal. They keep us here when we don’t work.’

‘Slaves,’ Jake muttered, ‘they want slaves.’

She nodded, somewhat grimly.

‘Don’t worry, you look healthy. They’ll probably keep you alive!’

She said it with a smile of someone who was convinced they were relaying good news, but Jake was repulsed.

He had been prepared to die, was ready for it. But now? Now he would have his fate dangled in front of him; death at their hands or life by their whims. What life could a slave hope for? It was an extension of misery not a chance at escape.

He staggered back to the fence, falling in to the moist dirt, looked up at the blue sky filled with fluffy clouds and soaring birds, and despaired.

Scouting

Ryan

Present Day

On the one side, the dull tones of winter flashed by; the muted browns of leafless trees, the mottled greys of moss-covered boulders, the tangles of hibernating brambles. On the other, the tall, lavender swaying grass of an alien summer, and the distant line of pleasing green that marked the ever-advancing treeline.

The jungle that started in Manchester had swept through the valleys and over the plateaus and peaks of the Pennines, and now tumbled down their eastern slopes, with every passing week it advanced further. But that was not why they were speeding along the divide.

Ryan had volunteered for the mission as soon as the news had come in and being one of the few people who could drive, had been sent to patrol the border.

Harriet sat in the passenger seat, her bright purple hair long since having grown out to reveal a deep, pleasing brown which she had managed to keep short with a pair of blunted scissors.

She was once again knitting something colourful. She’d long since kitted them all with hats, mittens, gloves, scarfs, and an ill-fated attempt at jumpers, but this seemed to be something altogether smaller, more intricate.

They hit a bump and their 4x4 rattled violently.

Theo, who was stood looking through sunroof, shouted over the roar of wind.

‘How can you knit at a time like this?’

Smirking, she continued with the clickity clack of her knitting.

‘Well, Theodore, I happen to find it very calming. So, I’d say it’s a very apt thing to be doing at a time like this’

‘You’re a weird one, you are.’

Harriet just chuckled.

They’d been moving along the border for an hour now, edging further north along one of the many abandoned back roads without any sign of trouble, or, Ryan noted, people.

The news had come in from multiple groups over the last week. At first, refugees arriving from north and west Yorkshire reported massive movement of Squid, followed by further reports of attacks along the roads. A couple of days later a haze of smoke rose far to the north, darkening the sky. A final burst of desperate and injured refugees pouring in from Leeds had brought with them news of the city’s systematic destruction.

After that, the council had decided to send out patrols with high powered radios. Theirs would skirt as far north as Huddersfield, before pulling back, only to be replaced by a patrol following a few hours behind, and so on. Others had been sent east to the coast, and north along different routes.

If the Ferals were indeed coming, they would need as much notice as possible to begin evacuating the population.

Harriet sighed and put down her knitting, ‘How’d you think Candice is getting on?’

Ryan swerved to avoid another abandoned car, clipping its open door as he did.

‘Oh, you know Candice. Loves an opportunity to boss people around. I’m sure she’s just fine.’

‘I guess. But I’d still prefer it if she’d come with us.’

‘Yeah,’ Ryan said, ‘Me too.’

Candice, having been the one to teach Ryan to drive in the first place, had been sent East with her own scouts. It had been, he’d realised, the first time their group had been separated since last winter, when Jake had been lost to the Ferals.

A pang of grief had made his stomach somersault at the memory, something that he braced himself for these days. It still hurt, but it was an expected hurt.

He had accepted the necessity of their temporary division. Sheffield was home to thousands of refugees of all ages. If the Ferals caught them unawares, they would be carried over the mountains in just the same way as Jake and the others from the village. And that was not something any of them wanted to see ever again.

The year since the loss of his brother had been one of immense challenges and unexpected opportunities. Three times they had tried to return to Manchester, but every time they had encountered patrols of Squid, found their routes blocked by deep jungle, and on one occasion had been forced to hide for three days from a pack of Ferals that had spent their time lazing in the sun and eating strange fruits. To make matters worse, with each passing week the jungle advanced, pushing them further and further away from their goal.

Eventually, they had been forced to accept that they could not breach the jungle from the east and would be forced to attempt a southern approach.

That was when they had hit a stream of refugees headed toward Sheffield. Word had reached them of food and shelter there, and though sceptical at first, their little band had joined them in the hopes of finding respite and a base to attempt their fourth crossing from.

The car jolted again as they sped down a dip in the road. The terrain was hilly here, and the border between alien and native landscapes was more blurred than usual, but they had sight of the slopes. Ryan focussed on driving, he knew Theo was scanning the landscape with his eyes, vigilante for even a hint of Feral activity.

For the past two days no sign of their enemy had been detected, and no more news had reached them from the north, but it was only a matter of time before they came. Ryan knew it, the others knew it, and so did the Council.

Sooner or later, they would have to leave their temporary haven and head further south, away from one alien colony and closer to another. Swapping dangers, Candice had called it.

Theo banged on the roof and then dropped into the back seat.

‘Drone!’ he mouthed quietly.

Pulling over, they all grabbed woollen blankets, and slid underneath them.

The poor light of winter filtered through the tartan textile, but he could see nothing of note. He knew he wouldn’t. He would hear it instead.

Slowly but surely the muffled echoes of a metallic voice issued out across the valley, the indistinct blare becoming a recognisable stream.

‘…treatment. Attention: The virus remains active. Human survivors will expire upon reaching anatomical maturation. Medical intervention will ensure survival. Human survivors are to proceed to the settlement of Huddersfield for treatment. Attention: The virus remains…’

The drone passed over, and after hearing the familiar message a few more times, vanished into the distance.

The drones had been sweeping the skies for months now. Whenever the jungle advanced, so did the drones. Their message was always the same, though the ‘treatment’ location inevitably shifted with the treeline.

They were also suspected to act as scouts, surveying the land below for targets and relaying them to Squid on the ground. Hiding was the best thing you could do when a drone came calling.

Throwing the blanket off, Ryan started the car again.

‘I hate those things.’

‘You reckon anyone’s daft enough to believe ‘em?’ Theo asked, as he slowly climbed back up through the sunroof, binoculars in hand.

‘Yes.’

Ryan and Harriet responded in unison, but Harriet elaborated.

Sometimes it was best to let her do the talking, if only to keep her happy.

‘People are scared. They saw their parents die, they’re all alone, they have no one to look after them, a lot of them will be even younger than we are. I mean, we’re the adults now after all, and no one is older than what? Nineteen? In our entire community? So yeah, I can totally imagine kids walking into whatever set up they have up there.’

They were back on their way, the car speeding along the empty road as Harriet continued.

‘The real questions, though,’ she shouted so Theo could hear, ‘are these two; what exactly happens to anyone who goes for medical intervention? Whatever that is. And is the virus still active? I mean, we just don’t know, do we?’

The vibrant green and purple grasses of the jungle rippled along the slopes to the left, like waves of a great ocean. It was, Ryan thought, rather beautiful.

‘I bet the virus is gone.’

Theo had shared this opinion before. It had been one of Jake’s theories, not that he had settled on it. His brother always had more ideas than time to test them out.

Ryan was more sceptical, however. As far as they knew no one had died of the flu since the epidemic had wiped out the adults a year ago, but that didn’t mean it was gone. Perhaps they just hadn’t reached the right anatomical maturity yet.

‘Oh, who knows? But nothing good can be happening in that town, that’s for sure.’

Harriet returned to her knitting after that, and silence set in for a while.

Thuds on the roof pulled their focus back. Ryan slowed the car to a stop under the bows of a leafless elm tree.

‘On the ridge, 26 degrees North, do you see that?’

Ryan, who had not taken to understanding how to use his compass as easily as the others, passed it to Harriet.

‘You know, you really should learn how to use this better. I won’t always be here to help you, you know!’ she tutted, but still unclipped its cover.

‘Yeah, yeah, I know. I just…’

She pointed in the direction he needed to look.

The ridge was quite some distance away.

He could only make out minute details along its top, the slope being hidden in shadow by its cousin to the left.

‘What are we looking at, Theo?’

Harriet called up, evidently just as perplexed.

‘I thought I saw smoke.’

Nothing obvious was on the horizon, just the dark shades of green and brown interrupted by distant trees and abandoned farm houses.

‘I don’t see anything.’

But Theo didn’t hear him, he stayed silent, his torso and face obscured by the roof.

‘Give him a minute to confirm it,’ Harriet said, returning to her knitting, ‘Best to be certain, eh?’

They both waited, the clicking of needles and howl of the wind the only sounds in the tension.

Just as Ryan was about to call it a false alarm, a puff of grey smoke drifted skyward.

‘Definitely something there,’ Harriet conceded, ‘What do you see, Theo?’

Theo’s voice was obscured by a rising wind as he shouted down.

‘Looks like a car or van. It’s moving along a road, but I…I think the backs on fire.’

‘On fire?’ Ryan asked.

‘You sure it’s not just the exhaust playing up?’

Harriet, whose knowledge of engines far surpassed his own rolled her eyes.

‘Ignore the Supermodel. He wouldn’t know a…’

A clap of thunder sent them all cowering as the top of the ridge exploded in a plume of flame and earth.

Harriet threw her knitting on the floor and raised her voice.

‘Ryan! Reverse! Now!’

Not taking any chances, his hands flew to the wheel, as Theo called out.

‘Stop! Wait a moment! I think I can see…’

‘Wait!? Sit down this instant!’

‘It’s them. I can see the eye of a Squid down in the valley. It’s just rounding the hill to the left.’

Sure enough, the glowing, single red eye that was the hallmark of the Ferals hunting machines could be seen in the distance.

‘I think there’s more than…’

‘Harriet!’ Ryan shouted as he put them into reverse.

‘Gotcha!’

She grabbed Theo by the jeans and dragged him into his seat, just as Ryan spun the car around and put his foot down.

‘Bloody hell, Harriet! I was only checking how many there are. Don’t you think the Council might…’

‘Might what? Never hear that they’re on the move because we waited to count but got blown up?’

‘That’s…’

‘Both of you shut up,’ Ryan shouted, as he drove the car as fast as he dared on the narrow, winding roads.

He spun the wheel right, dodging the car they had sped past only minutes earlier, this time taking the door clean off.

‘Any sign they’re following us?’

Theo was staring out the back window, binoculars to his eyes.

‘No. Not yet anyway.’

‘Harriet, get on the radio and tell Ethan that they’re only 20 miles out.’

She acknowledged him by frantically searching under her bundles of wool to find the bulky unit.

The sound of the engine roaring was masked only by the billowing wind thrumming about the car, as trees and drywall blurred by.

‘Ethan! Ethan! Hello? It’s Harri…I mean; Base, its Squad 4 here. Do you read? Over.’

Static was her response.

‘We need to get higher; the slopes must be blocking our signal.’

‘Ryan!’ Theo shouted, ‘One of them is coming up the slope, I think it’s seen us!’

Glancing at the rear-view mirror, he could see the very top of the Squid’s head rising over the tarmac and trees they’d just left behind.

‘Base, do you read? This is squad 4, we have encountered Squid in…Theo, where the hell are we?’

Ryan kept focus on the road.

‘I think we’re south of…’

A flash like lightning illuminated the hillside, giving way to a rumbling groan as a wave of mud and rock crested over the road.

Ryan, put his foot down as pebbles and soil peppered the chassis, aware that the expanding wave would collapse on them in seconds.

The car raced through the falling arch of earth, and he could see nothing but the ever-decreasing light ahead. Ryan kept them straight, hoping that no boulders would tumble into their path.

As the shroud of