Chapter 1

All that was six months ago. Six months of hiding and scavenging, struggling to survive. If someone had told Grace a year ago that there was going to be an alien invasion, she would have laughed in their face. But it happened, and her normal life—her silly High School one where she dreamt of going to college and making her father proud—was over. College applications were the last thing on her mind now. The only thing she could think about was trying to get through the day.

Boom; the explosion of a nearby car sent Grace tumbling to the ground. She could almost feel the fire raging inside her, the rumble of the explosion rattling through her body. And it hurt. Two men emerged beside her and took an arm each. Tom, her father, and her brother, Hal, quickly helped her to her feet.

"Come on," Tom urged, leading them to an empty store. It was dark inside. Rolls of tatty fabrics hung from the walls. It smelt like ash and burning rubber. The three of them took cover under the counter, concealed in the shadows. Grace felt her heart pounding as a mech came stomping past. She saw other fighters, desperately scrambling along the road, crawling to escape, only to get zapped by mechs. She covered her hand with her mouth.

Needless to say, the scout for food had not gone well. They had just loaded up a cart when the aliens made an attack. The cart was now lying in the road somewhere, its contents sprawled out across the damp concrete. That food would have lasted them days. Now they would have to return to base empty-handed, leaving everyone with empty hopes as well as empty bellies.

It had taken a while for her father to accept his kids as fighters. For months all they had done was go from house to house, scavenging, trying to get their hands on whatever they could find to survive. That was probably the worst of it so far. Running, hiding, searching for scraps like scared little mice.

Then their mother died, and everything changed.

It still felt so raw in Grace's memory, but it was months ago now. It was before they joined the resistance, before Tom told them they had to leave their home.

It was still early. Grace was already up – she couldn't sleep so she was sat downstairs reading a book. Childhood's End, a science fiction classic. She realised the irony when she picked it up, but even more so when she learned of the fictitious aliens' interested in human children.

Her mother, Rebecca, wanted to go on a supply run for more food and Grace agreed to go with her. They enlisted the help of Doctor Harris, Tom's friend, who was also up and about. The three of them headed out to the closest abandoned grocery store and filled an entire bag. It took both Grace and Rebecca to carry it.

"Your father and brothers better appreciate this," her mother joked as they struggled with the supplies.

Grace smirked. "They will. Maybe too much. I bet they'd have eaten it all within a day."

Doctor Harris dragged his own bag beside them. "Food is precious now. We're going to have to ration this. Soon the food stores will be empty, and then what do we do?"

Grace paused a beat, her arm aching from the heavy bag, full of food that may have to last them weeks. "We'll find a way," she said. "It can't be like this forever."

Harris smiled. "If only I had your optimism, young lady."

Rebecca laughed and Grace raised an eyebrow at her. "What?"

"You're just like your father," she said, grinning and shaking her head as they walked. "Always looking on the bright side, even in an alien invasion."

Grace chuckled at that. People often compared her to her father. She quite liked hearing it.

She wanted to hold on to that moment, she and her mother laughing and smiling as if the world hadn't gone to hell. It almost felt like old times.

They let their guard down, just for a moment, and they suffered for it.

All her mind could focus on after that was her mother on the ground, bleeding. A skitter attack caught them by surprise. It was too painful to remember, but she couldn't stop thinking about it – the sight of her mother, helpless, dying, her eyes wide with shock as the light from them gradually faded. It still didn't feel real, like it had to be some horrible dream she couldn't wake up from. She could still hear herself, calling her mother's name, horrified, shaking her, screaming at her.

"God, no, no, no," sobbed Grace. "Mom! Mom, please get up, please get up!"

Nothing. And then the skitters tried to grab her.

"Come on! We have to go!" the doctor cried, already stepping back from the approaching monsters.

"I'm not leaving her!" choked Grace through tears. "You need to help me get her back to the house!"

"You can't be serious!" A look of horror crossed his features as the aliens neared them. Grace looked up through blurry eyes and felt her heart suddenly freeze. Two of them stared back at her with their ugly, beady eyes, their many legs shuffling behind them. Then she noticed Harris was gone.

For a moment, Grace could do nothing. She was still holding on to Rebecca's hand, still warm, squeezing tightly. And then the skitter drew back its long arm and smacked her forcefully in the face. Grace felt her body lift and then a sudden, crashing pain as she landed halfway across the street.

She landed on her side, the pain radiating. They were going to kill her. Take her or kill her, she didn't know which was worse. Tears streamed from her eyes as she fell back onto her elbows, the skitters approaching her again. "Stay away from me!" she screamed. She got to her feet, fear filtering through her body. She was shaking violently. She looked at her mother on the ground, sprawled out with the supplies, the skitters walking over her body to get to Grace. She didn't know what else to do. She ran. Heartbroken and screaming, she ran as fast as she could. She left her mother's body and fled back in tears.

Her father would retrieve the body later and lay Rebecca's remains down on the picnic table in the backyard. Grace's heart would shatter every time she looked at Tom, and every time she saw Ben, sitting forlornly by the window, as if their mother would come back to them. Hal shut himself way, and maybe that was for the best. He looked so much like Rebecca she feared she would crumble at the sight of him, too. And for the longest time, she had a sobbing Matt attached to her. She couldn't be strong for him that day. They'd cried together for hours, and then Tom told them they had to leave.

Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered it. She had been dreaming about it again and woken up with damp eyes. Luckily she hadn't woken Matt, who was snuggled up beside her. She must have fallen asleep reading him a book. Harry Potter. She'd smiled when she'd seen it in the bedroom of one of the abandoned houses. Tom used to read the series to her and her brothers when they were younger and she thought Matt would want to listen to it. She was exhausted from the failed supply run at the armoury the previous night, but she didn't mind. Matt was still on a birthday high. A fun story and a nice, warm bed made a pleasant change and Grace needed to take her mind off everything anyway.

With the scavenging mission being a bust, spirits were low and everyone was sick of eating oatmeal, which Grace fully expected to be downstairs waiting for them at breakfast. Their stake-out at the armoury hadn't gone any better, with Jimmy exposing them and nearly getting everyone killed by a mech blast. The kid had been beating himself up about it last night. She sighed and sleepily pulled herself out of bed, making sure not wake up Matt. He stirred and rolled over, still in a peaceful slumber.

Looking out the window, she could see the streets filled with fighters gathering supplies and setting out breakfast and dining tables. On the field in the distance was the civilian base, figures like ants wandering around, walking in and out of tents and moving supplies around. It was one of those rare, peaceful mornings; one where the sun was shining and the sky was blue; one where they weren't rudely awoken by alien robots wanting to kill them.

On the sill was a piece of paper. Matt's drawing. She picked it up, hot tears stinging her eyes again as her finger traced over the cartoon versions of her family, all standing together, smiling happily: Grace, Hal, Ben, Matt, Tom, and Rebecca. He had drawn this while they were on a scouting mission. He'd been doing a lot of it lately. Anne's idea. It was a way to keep the kids occupied anyway.

The opening of the door jolted her. Her father was standing there, giving her a weary smile. But then he noticed her watering eyes and his face fell with concern. "Are you okay?"

Grace swiped quickly at her eyes and smiled reassuringly at him. "I'm fine."

Tom seemed unconvinced, but let it go. "We're moving out soon. Wake your brother and meet us downstairs for breakfast?"

"Sure."

He watched her for a beat longer, still concerned, still unsure how to make things better. But then he smiled a thanks at her and headed downstairs.

Grace went to wake Matt. He looked so content. It seemed cruel to bring him back to this devastating reality, but today was a new day and there was plenty to do. "Okay, sleepyhead. Time to get up." She nudged him gently and he groaned, obviously too comfortable under his new duvet to get up.

"Come on, Matt. It's breakfast time."

She thought she might have to tear the duvet off him, just like their mother used to do when they refused to get up for school in the mornings, but luckily she didn't have to.

Outside, they were greeted by a group of fighters already sitting down to eat. Among them were Dai, Click, Anthony, and her brother Hal.

"Mornin," chirped Hal, handing his siblings a bowl of oatmeal each. "Enjoy."

"Aw, man," moaned Matt, looking down at the sticky, grey substance in the bowl. "Oatmeal again?" He made a disgusted face.

"We passed a Denny's. Maybe you can get a grand slam," Hal teased.

Matt glared at him. "Bite me."

"Not much of a morning person, are you, Matthew?" joked Anthony. The guys chuckled.

Grace wasn't overjoyed at having oatmeal again either but she shoved a big spoonful in her mouth and made her face brighten. "Mmm. What're you talking about? This is delicious!"

"You could win an Oscar with that performance," Hal said sarcastically.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "It's not a performance. It's good. Try it, Matt."

Click joined in. "You know what?" he said, taking a bite of his own gruel-like breakfast. "It is good. Mmm-mmm. Civvies must have added a secret ingredient to it."

"It'll put hairs on your chest," Anthony chimed in, grinning.

"It's either oatmeal or dirt," Hal added.

Matt shook his head, unconvinced. "Whatever."

As they were about to tuck in to their meals, a weary-looking couple came up to Grace, asking about their child. Grace felt her heart break for them. They wanted to know if she had seen their son while she and Hal were out scouting the other day, but she couldn't recall. The only person she remembered seeing was Ben.

A few months ago, when Grace and her family first came across the Second Mass, they had lost Ben in all the madness. During an attack, she and her brothers had arranged to meet up with their father at Hal's friend's old house, but Ben never showed. They'd spent so long looking for him, but it wasn't until the other day, while Grace and Hal were checking the path for skitters and mechs, that they found him.

The relief of seeing him alive was instantly swept aside by the horror of realising that he was harnessed; a slave to the aliens, marching robotically in a platoon of dozens of other kids, all with those long, shell-like harnesses attached to their spines. Mechs led them at the helm and she and Hal were forced to hide in a ditch. They couldn't save him. Not then. Hal was adamant they go rescue him when they returned to the group to tell them what they had seen, but their father was reluctant. He forbid it, at least until they were prepared for a rescue mission. Hesitantly, Grace agreed. Of course she felt Hal's anger, his desire to save their brother immediately, but she knew it was suicide. They would save him when the time was right.

She had seen the fear and fury in Hal's eyes. He would die saving Ben, and Tom knew it too. That's why they had to wait, prepare, and then act. And by the looks of it, Hal was geared up to go now. He had bags under his eyes, but he was still bright and perky – a show for his brother and sister, no doubt.

She turned back to the couple and gave her most sincere apologies. Their faces dropped with disappointment, tears glimmering in their eyes. They nodded sadly.

"If we see him, we'll let you know right away," promised Grace. She knew how they felt, it was torture not knowing if your loved one was okay. But she had no answers to give them. As soon as they were gone, Grace turned back to Hal who was shaking his head.

"They asked me the same thing ten minutes ago." He paused. "Wish I had something to tell them, you know...but as soon as I saw Ben..."

"I know," said Grace. "Me too. Nothing else mattered. Just Ben."

"Are you guys going to go look for him tonight?" Matt asked hopefully.

Grace glanced at Hal for a moment and then squeezed Matt's shoulder. "I'm pretty sure that's the plan. We still need to sort some stuff out with dad."

"Can I come?" added Matt, big eyes gleaming. "I wanna help get Ben back."

Grace wasn't sure what to say. She looked at Hal again.

"Matt, you can't come," he said. "You're too -"

"Busy," Anthony interrupted. "Yeah. With so many people going to save your brother, who's gonna help run things back at camp, huh?"

Dai nodded. "Weaver could use some help watching the perimeter, that sort of thing."

Matt sighed and gave a half-shrug. "Okay. I guess."

"Good man," Click grinned.

Grace smiled at them. She was grateful that the guys were so good with Matt. He was always wanting to help, but he was just too young. Then again, there were quite a few kid fighters she would have deemed too young to be holding a fire-arm, herself and Hal included. She just wanted to shield Matt from the fighting a little longer. She knew that's what her dad wanted too. It was hard enough for him to see his little girl firing a machine gun at aliens from other planets, and then Hal, who he never even trusted with a set of car keys let alone an assault rifle. Seeing Matt get messed up in all that would be way too much for him.

Later, Grace took Matt down to the civilian base where everyone had already started work. The two of them weaved through tents and people gathering around fires, others were still lining up for their breakfast or sitting at picnic tables. The base had come alive, like they were all on one big camping trip. They dodged some little kids playing with a ball and a group carrying buckets of water from the river. Hal and Karen were walking together, struggling with large canteens in either hand.

"Need any help?" offered Grace.

"Nah, I got it," replied Hal. "You take the peanut to his class. Gotta educate those bright, young minds."

Matt huffed.

"I can give you a hand?" a timid voice asked behind them. Lourdes approached them, smiling warmly at Hal.

"Hey, Lourdes," said Grace. Lourdes placed a strand of her long, brunette hair behind her ear and greeted Grace with a smile before looking back towards Hal. Grace didn't really know much about Lourdes, but she seemed like a nice girl and she had a kind of optimism that was ideal for the resistance at the moment. Plus, she was obviously fond of Hal.

"Ah, that's okay," Hal told her. "But thanks."

"You could take mine," Karen suggested, handing out her canteen. Lourdes seemed taken aback for a second. Grace rolled her eyes. She knew Karen a little better. She had been at the Second Mass when Grace and her family had joined, and she too had taken a shine to Hal. In fact, they were together, and Grace's protective instincts had kicked in immediately. Karen was a good scout and a good fighter – plus, she and Hal worked well together as a team – but Grace didn't like her. She didn't hate her, just didn't appreciate her attitude sometimes, especially when it came to Lourdes. She could do without the sickly, public displays of jealousy Karen all too clearly projected onto the poor girl. At least Hal could see it too. Grace could tell when he was embarrassed.

"It's okay," he said. "She's joking."

"I am?" asked Karen, annoyed.

"You are," Grace almost snapped. "See you guys later."

She took Matt's hand but he immediately shook her off, blushing. Then they heard Anne's Uncle Scott call for all the children to come and sit down. He had created a makeshift outdoor classroom with picnic tables for the kids to sit on. Grace was taking Matt to join the class.

She gave him a gentle push and he sat down as Uncle Scott stood behind a wooden box, the stars and stripes draped across it – an extra shine of motivation for the kids, perhaps. He welcomed the group to his class. Today was biology and Grace agreed to help out for a bit. She stood at the front next to Uncle Scott as he began his lesson.

"Biology—it's from a Greek word meaning 'Life discourse.' That's from the dictionary. But you know what it is to me? To me, it is the study of the most miraculous gift that has ever been bestowed on us. It's the study of the wonder and the beauty and the mystery that is life itself, and to study it is to, well, is to learn humility and responsibility and gratitude, right?" Matt raised his arm. "Yeah, Matt?"

"We're not grateful for skitters," Matt said solemnly. Grace gave him a sad smile.

"No," Scott replied gravely. "We are not grateful for Skitters. And we're not grateful for parasites or cancer, either but they're part of life, and we're grateful for the chance to study them. And hopefully by studying them, we'll be able to better figure out how to kill them."

Kill them, Grace repeated in her head. She had thought of nothing else since all this began. Killing skitters. Especially when her mother was killed.

She noticed her dad approach the class and he gave her a wave. She smiled back. It seemed he wanted to talk to Uncle Scott, so she was given instructions to hand out pens and paper to the kids so that they could write down all the things that make a human a human, and an alien an alien. Five minutes later, Matt seemed stuck. She knelt down next to him.

"I can't think," he muttered. She looked at his paper. He had written down numerous physical features such as 'fingernails', 'noses', and 'skin' in the human section. All he had written down in the alien section was the word 'evil'.

"Well, think, Matt. What makes you different from a skitter?"

"I'm from earth?"

She nodded. "Yeah, and what else? What about...a soul? You think aliens have souls?"

He shook his head. "No way."

"Do aliens have morals?"

"No!"

"Do they have hearts?" she paused. "Well, maybe they do. But not one as big as yours," she tapped him on the chest.

He smiled at her. "Thanks, Grace."

"No worries, Matty." Grace started helping the other kids when she saw Jimmy sitting alone by a camp fire, bouncing a dirty tennis ball on the ground, misery etched across his entire face. "I'll be right back," she said to the class before heading towards the young teenager.

She sat cross-legged next to him. "Hey."

"Hey," he mumbled, barely looking at her.

"Do you wanna join Uncle Scott's class?" she offered, hoping it might take his mind off the other night. It was clearly still bothering him. "He's teaching biology."

"That class is for little kids," he retorted. "Besides, what's the point? What's the point in doing anything? I'm useless."

She frowned. Jimmy was only a kid, but he was a good fighter. Even Weaver, their leader, thought so. It sucked seeing him so put down like this. She felt bad for him. Unlike Grace, Jimmy didn't have his family. He only had the Second Mass, and he felt like he had let them down when he went chasing after his dog, Nemo, while they were at the armoury, exposing them and leaving them vulnerable to attack. He nearly got himself and everyone else killed. But Grace didn't blame him. He was just trying to save his friend. He had the dog's tennis ball in his hand and was gripping it tightly.

"You're not useless," she told him. "You're a great fighter. Everyone thinks so."

He looked so disappointed in himself, his blue eyes gleaming sadly. His rifle was laid down next to him. Grace was still getting used to seeing kids with weapons. As if seeing Hal kitted out with rifles and hand guns wasn't terrifying enough, here was this thirteen-year-old kid, a soldier. She felt the handle of her own gun from her holster dig into her hip, reminding her she wasn't much better off. They were all soldiers when they shouldn't be. Killers. But they had to be, this was their world now.

"Thanks, but everyone knows I screwed up," sulked Jimmy. "Now nobody trusts me."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Jimmy. It doesn't mean they don't trust you. Weaver wouldn't have made you a fighter if he didn't." She waited until he glanced up at her, and then she smiled warmly at him. "We know you've got our backs."

Success. She had made him smile at least. Albeit a sort of sad, resigned smile, but it was a start. She knew it was tough making mistakes. She still blamed herself for her mother dying. That's why she wasn't as impulsive as she used to be, why she agreed with Tom when he said they should wait to save Ben. She didn't want to be responsible for another family member dying because of her poor choices. There was too much at stake now. Jimmy knew that, that's why he was beating himself up about it. But as one of the youngest fighters, he still craved the approval of his elders. At eighteen, Grace wasn't the youngest, but she was still regarded somewhat as a kid, especially by her father. She and her brothers would always be kids to him. That's why he found it hard to accept them as fighters, to let them go on the dangerous missions. He never wanted to fight, he just wanted to protect his family – to survive. But after all the attacks, after people started dying, after Rebecca died...it became too much to ignore. The resistance was their chance to strike back, and it was the best way to find Ben.

Poor Ben. She wondered if he was in pain, or if he was just blissfully unaware of it all.

She felt a tug on her jacket. A young girl, Amelia, was standing behind her, wanting to know if Grace could take her to the bathroom.

The 'bathroom', at least for civilians living on the field out of tents, was currently a spot away from camp, just passed the treeline. Grace waited for the little girl a short distance away, gun in hand – just in case.

There was no particular reason to suspect anything would happen; it was just a precaution, so Grace was pretty at ease while she waited. But beginning to get impatient, she called after the girl to hurry up. No reply. Maybe she had gone too far out to hear? She called again, louder, but there was no response. After waiting a beat longer, Grace thought it was time she ought to check on her.

As she advanced into the thick woods, she thought she could see someone in the distance. "Amelia?"

No. It wasn't Amelia.

The build was far too large and masculine. There was someone else out there. She raised her weapon, but the figure was on the move.

"Stop!" she yelled before taking off running. The man was fast, but not fast enough. She was catching up to him now. She stopped when she saw him come to a clearing.

"Who are you?" she demanded. She came through the trees, gun poised, and realised this had been a bad idea.

The guy wasn't alone. He had a couple of men with him, standing by an old, rusty convertible. She unintentionally held her breath, her palms sweating inside her fingerless gloves as she kept her gun raised at the first intruder. He turned slowly. He had this kind of rough, biker image that unsettled her – dark clothes; long, unkempt hair; shabby beard; and a sneering, conceited grin that made a shiver run through her.

"Oh, sweetheart," he said in a cocky, Southern drawl. "You don't wanna point that thing at me."

She knew she was outnumbered, but she still stood her ground. "Yeah? Why not?"

The two other guys he was with raised their own weapons. She stood, frozen. One of them looked over at the first man. "What do we do, Billy? If we let her go, she'll go running back to her camp and they'll hunt us down like dogs. They'll know we've been watching."

"Could just kill her," the other suggested.

Grace bit her tongue. "Watch it, I can still shoot at least one of you before I go down."

The man known as Billy looked impressed. "Nah, she has a bit of fire in 'er," he told his friends, grinning. "We could use her."

He neared Grace, staring intensely at her. She kept her gun up, pointed right at his heart, though her own heart was racing faster and faster. "Put the gun down," he murmured in a low, gravelly voice. "There ain't no scenario where you can get outta this without being shot in the head. I know we both wanna avoid that."

Her breathing deep, her pulse raising, she swallowed hard and finally lowered her gun. Billy took it off her and grinned with crooked, yellowing teeth. "Good choice, sweetheart."

Before she knew it, she was being grabbed and bundled into a convertible with three strange, armed men.

TBC