* * *
The hellish sounds of battle were neither new nor fearsome for Allison. Long ago she had resolved to live well in times of peace, to fight gallantly in the face of evil, and to die without remorse, should angels call her name. All around her, she knew what was happening – men and women were dying for a cause. Whether right or wrong, just or unjust, they battled for survival, killing in the name of an ideology or simply to see another day.
Allison had often been perplexed by the behavior of those who had survived the war so many years ago. At a time when they should have been rebuilding communities and families, their energies were thrust into merely staying alive…and she was tired. Were it not for Rod and Jeff her hopes of a brighter future would have been consumed long ago, but in them she saw a prospect worth fighting for…even unto death.
To her left, two frightened Normals, a boy and girl, monitored The Quad from an open window, their rifles pulled tightly to their shoulders and fingers nervously stroking the triggers. Neither spoke, at least not at the moment, but when they did it was in short, blunt sentences; an obvious sign their insides were entangled in an ominous free-for-all. As Allison leaned to assure them, the boy pulled himself from the window and puked at their feet.
“It’s alright,” Allison said. “Don’t worry about it. We’re all nervous.”
The boy nodded his appreciation and leaned back into his rifle. “Hey, what’s that?” he called, pointing across The Quad to an open gap near the library.
Allison turned her attention back to the east, never fully letting go of the imagery she envisioned to the west. Before her, at no more than 150 yards, a small group of armed Ward members had streamed through the opening and were racing for cover. At the front she saw Rod and Cory, their movements easily recognizable to one who had memorized everything about the two men. Halfway across the grassed arena, Christine joined them and a hurried discussion sent Cory, along with his wife and a few followers, to an area near the science building. Rod carried on toward Old Main, leaving those behind him to seek locations from which they could engage the pursuing Harvesters.
For a moment, Allison watched, anxious to bolt from her position to greet Rod. She desperately needed to hold him, touch him, and kiss him, perhaps one last time. She noted how the barricade survivors paired up, two-by-two, to seek cover…all but one. Strangely, the last, lagging individual paused near the library’s entrance and looked around, as if looking for someone or something. An instant later he darted for the library doors and disappeared inside. She’d seen him before, of that she was quite certain, but something was different and it didn’t sit well with her.
The image of the capped guardsman rested heavily on her, as she ran from the room to greet Rod at the northern entrance. He was visibly drawn and overcome with emotional fatigue. Sweat blistered from every pore, attracting dust, smoke, and the smell of battle – he reeked. However, it didn’t deter Allison from clutching him to her, making them one. She kissed his cheeks before holding his face in her hands to stare into his eyes. For an instant, they communicated soul-to-soul, their hearts knowing what the other was feeling.
“The Normals, where are they?” Rod asked.
“Here mostly – some are with Jeff by the science building.”
“It’s bad, Allison…real bad. We just don’t have the numbers. How’s it going here?”
“Well, you can hear for yourself. Clark is holding them back, but we’re losing a lot of friends.”
Suddenly an explosive clap drew their attention to Jeff and those defending the southern flank. “What in the world was that?” Allison squealed.
“Cory must have used his grenade. Okay Hon, I’ve got to get to Clark. I’ll come to you when I can…stay alive!”
“I’ll try…but hold up a sec, what about the ladies in the library? I saw them run in – we can’t just leave them there.”
“Allison, in a minute or two, Harvesters will make their way to The Quad. Those women are all that’s holding them back. We’ve got to form some sort of counter attack…or we’re done.”
“I know…but what chance have they got?”
Pausing, Rod considered the question and answered, “Likely none. Alright, get to them and order a retreat.”
“Okay, I’m on it. Be safe.”
Planting a quick kiss on Rod’s filthy face, Allison lurched away and sped for the library, calling for a male sentry to accompany her. She flew down Old Main’s outer steps, but stopped, suddenly enlightened to the unknown man’s identity. Even with his face shadowed, she knew who he was and turned, yelling Rod’s name.
“Rod, was Egan with you at the barricade?” The query went unanswered, Rod having passed through the doors, leaving Allison and the sentry alone. A myriad of possibilities quickly vaulted through Allison’s mind, leaving her with one final, all-consuming conclusion – he’s the traitor!
“Oh no, Egan’s the killer!” she snapped, whipping her rifle forward. “Come on, there’s no time – the snipers – we’ve got to warn them.” Together the two hustled past headstones and other obstacles as they sprinted ahead – Allison still picturing the man in question. How can it be, she wondered. He’s dead.
Across the way, sneaking from one room to the next, the traitor looked for unsuspecting victims. He walked with a confidence unique to himself, assured the chaos had shrouded him in obscurity. At his side he held a bloodied knife, a mere sign of the day’s events…however, the trailing droplets were fresh, lifted from a woman just seconds before. She had stood in his way, only briefly, before he’d snapped her neck and severed her carotid. The killing was pathetic but necessary…now, on to the rest.
Chapter 55
As if time had backpedaled a 100 years, the sloped terrain protecting Old Main began to take on the haunting likeness of Vimy Ridge, Gallipoli, or any number of tragic battlefields. Bodies lay crumpled and dying at the bottom of a miserable trench, men and women screamed for help when limbs had been blown away, and the tide of battle was stagnant, neither side budging from their resolve.
The BFV had easily rolled from the asphalt street to the hillside, but it was seemingly mortared in place; stopped by The Ward’s ingenious defenses. The crew raked the trench and side of Old Main with a relentless stream of machine-gun fire, only scaling back for fear of running dry and angering Williams. The cannon had yet to fire: the rounds they had left were insurance against any unforeseen circumstances that would warrant a bit more firepower. Juanita had been very clear on that point, but if they could have heard her bellowing from her position well behind them, they would have smashed through the remaining defenses using every means necessary.
The Ward’s resistance was hardened and fast, much beyond what Lady Williams had anticipated. The collection of farmers, housewives, and Normals were proving to be more formidable than once thought. However, she would still have her way with them, as her militia used sheer numbers in an attempt to root out their entrenched enemy.
From the upper window of a historically significant home, Juanita beheld her own Armageddon. In the first few minutes of the conflict, stray bullets had pierced and cracked the building’s ancient glass windows, forcing Juanita to retreat behind some old furniture. The view was less dramatic, but still functional. Watching the idiots trying to maneuver the Bradley had initially irritated the woman, but as more of her troops fell, the simmering anger was pushed to a boiling rage.
“You morons,” she shouted, even though she was quite certain they were unable to hear her outburst. “Use the cannon…use the cannon,” she screamed. Finally exasperated and out of breath, she motioned to her assistant. “Get to those imbeciles and tell them to use the cannon. Use it to clear a path through that crap and kill whoever’s left in the trench.”
Somewhat taken aback by the request, the man, who was average in every way, stuttered a quaking reply, “You want me to go out there?” Some time before, the once affable bartender had volunteered to serve as Lady Williams’ assistant, anticipatin
g there would be no gunplay, no putting his life on the line, and no death. From her response he had obviously been wrong.
“What did I just say?” she shrieked, pulling her pistol and aiming it at his head. “Does this clarify things for you?”
“Yes…Ma’am. I’ll get right on it,” he replied, shaking.
In the time it took him to fly down the steps of the old building, his mind had been made up. Running for all he was worth, he crashed from the backdoor, over a rickety fence, and disappeared into the once quiet neighborhood.
From her perch, Juanita watched and waited. When he didn’t show in the allotted time, her blood pressure peaked and she ran screaming from the room. A string of expletives, sure to make a biker blush, spilled from her mouth as she exited her protective lair. Grabbing two men positioned behind an angled truck, she gave the same instructions she’d spelled out only moments before. They looked at one another, and then the pistol leveled at their midsections and nodded their understanding.
“You’ll be safe if you come up from behind. When you get to the hatch, beat on it until they lower it for you. I want that Bradley moving in the next five minutes or I’ll gut the two of you myself.”
The men stared at their commander; their eyes suddenly glassed over and jaws slack. The look gave Juanita pause, and she continued. “What are you waiting for? Get going.” In an effort to punctuate the full import of her order, she lowered her pistol and fired two quick shots between the men, the shells sparking rocks at their feet. In a wild panic, they stumbled from her presence and ran for the hill. On either side of them militia members renewed their assault, filling the air with spinning lead.
“Finally,” Juanita said, “looks like we might get somewhere.”
And indeed they were. Finn was pressing steadily forward, taking moderate losses from sharpshooters positioned in the library but his Harvesters were closing on The Quad. His people had managed to infiltrate some of the neighboring buildings and were suppressing the riflemen from there. Yet, even as they did, an ally was assisting them from within, sliding from one hidden, gunnery position to the next, cutting throats and killing without mercy. However the feat was being accomplished, Finn could have cared less, but he was thrilled the guns were being silenced.
A short distance away, Pete’s platoon had left a half-dozen burning corpses behind and swarmed over the hill’s crest. Huddled there, they continued their assault, taking up places of cover on the opposite side of the wall from which Cory had lobbed the grenade. So determined were they to quash The Ward that even the wounded and injured were scurrying to rejoin the fight. Some fought out of loyalty for Pete but most understood a bullet from a ‘friend’ was just as deadly as from a foe, and they knew Juanita’s penchant for rewarding those that strayed.
As firefights raged on three fronts, enmity grew and loathing prevailed, giving rise to outlandish acts of heroism and cruelty…on both sides. Women wept for the loss of lovers, while others sacrificed themselves to save a friend. Before long, battle-lines would touch and the ring would be complete; encircling The Ward with no avenue of escape – exactly as Ms. Williams had seen it.
Chapter 56
From the corner of his eye, Jeff noted Allison and a single sentry sprint across The Quad and enter the library. For a moment he thought it odd but had no further time to consider the action, as live rounds began chipping away at the brick to his front.
“They’re at the wall,” Jeff yelled, warning those who were scrambling for whatever cover they could find.
Cory lay a short distance away, the base of a flagpole shielding him from enemy fire. His rifle continued to quell any notion of a full frontal assault, but it would not be long before his, and everyone else’s, ammo ran low. Jeff dropped to a knee and quickly peeked around the corner of the science building. As he’d thought, assailants were skirting away from the wall and running for the protective cover of the nearby buildings. Entrance to such would be impossible, as the windows and doors had been permanently blocked years ago, but soon they would be fighting combatants on all sides, a fight The Ward would surely lose.
Taking a deep breath, he stood, swept his rifle around the corner and aimed at two men bolting away from the wall. Jeff fired two well-controlled bursts…dropping both attackers, but as quickly as he did a swell of gunfire crashed around him, forcing him to hide.
“What do we do?” Christine shouted.
Not answering her query directly, Jeff cupped his mouth and yelled at Cory, “We need to get the snipers over to Old Main.” He had to repeat the call three times before Cory was able to decipher the request, but gave thumbs up when he had.
“Christine, get to the snipers and have them fall back to Old Main. Cory can keep them pinned down here and I’ll get to the other end of the building. I’m afraid they’re making their way around us…again.”
“Okay…I’ll warn them,” Christine replied, taking no time to question or discuss the order further.
As quickly as Jeff and Christine vacated the edge of the building, another Ward member filled the spot and began firing on the wall. Running stride-for-stride they hit the science building’s entrance and Christine bolted inside. Jeff continued on, racing full out to secure the eastern edge of the building.
Twenty feet from his destination, he was surprised to see a woman step around the corner. She held a small, 9mm pistol-machine-gun in one hand and a large knife in the other. Pulling the trigger on the weapon, the woman struggled to keep the muzzle in check and slugs skipped across the ground, past Jeff, and into the air. Jeff dove and rolled, knowing he had no time to bring his own rifle to bear. He tumbled, rolling in a somersault until his momentum carried him into the equally stunned woman.
They collided with enough force to knock the wind, and pistol, from the woman. Entangled, and more than a little startled, the pair wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. However, the woman was a scrapper and instinctively began slashing at Jeff with the blade. The first pass landed on Jeff’s upper arm, slicing through fabric and several layer of skin. She recoiled and tried again, but Jeff launched his own attack, smashing his forehead into her face and crushing her nose.
Suddenly dirt kicked up at their side, drawing Boob’s attention back to the corner. A man had come upon them and was desperately trying to hit Jeff without harming the woman. Underneath him, Jeff felt her squirm; she was fazed but still in the fight. Holding her tightly, and pushing the blade aside, he rolled sideways, giving the shooter only one view. The shift was quick enough that a pair of slugs, intended for Jeff, struck the woman in the back and she went slack. Jeff grappled with his own weapon, and using her body as a protective shield, danced a burst up the man’s groin to his chest, knocking him backwards and out of sight beyond the building’s edge.
Before pushing himself away from the woman, Jeff looked at her face, expecting to see evil somehow written there…but he saw none. Had she not been trying to kill him, he could just as easily seen her as a Ward member or friend. Still, it was what it was; kill or be killed and God would sort out the good and evil of it all later.
Lying close to where he had originally fallen and using the still, warm corpse as a shield, Jeff covered Christine and the snipers as they hurried from the building. He counted as they went, wondering how many lay dead at their posts: three…four…five…only five made it. Boob watched the other defenders abandon their positions, falling in behind Christine, as they ran for the relative safety of Old Main. Alone, he and Cory stood against a tide of rushing attackers, bent on their destruction…and then he saw them.
Packing extra ammo belts, Rod and Clark were moving to their position. At the flagpole, Clark dropped alongside Cory and clawed into Juanita’s force with renewed vigor. Rod continued on, not stopping until he rolled up against Jeff and readied himself for a fight.
“Take this,” Rod said, tossing Jeff a full bandolier.
“Thanks, I was wondering what I was gonna do.”
“I’ll bet.” After a short p
ause, Rod continued, “Jeff, it’s time.”
“Time?” Jeff replied.
“We’re getting The Normals back to Old Main and you’ll use the tunnel to get to your bikes and escape.”
Tears immediately filled Jeff’s eyes, but he knew an argument now would be no good for anyone. “What about Dude?”
“That’s why we’re here. Clark will hold Cory’s position so he can help us get Remy, Godfrey, and anybody that can move out of the hospital.”
“Including Dude…right?”
“If he can move.”
“Dad, I’m not leaving Dude…I can’t.”
“You’ll do what you have to do, Son. If that means leaving Dude behind…you’ll do it.”
Jeff’s head hung low, his forehead resting on his rifle’s breach. “I…”
Suddenly Rod fired a stream of shells from his assault rifle, stopping an intruder but not killing him. “We’ve no time to waste. I’ll cover the corner…when Cory get’s here run like hell to the infirmary and get them out. There’s no time.” Letting lose another burst at the corner, Rod looked to see Cory dashing to their position. “Here he comes. Move Jeff…go on…I’ll cover you.”
Jumping to his feet, Cory steadied him and they sprang ahead, firing their weapons from the hip as they cleared the science building. A single assailant went down, totally shocked by the brazen attack. Plunging ahead, Cory and Jeff reached the hospital doors to find Godfrey standing guard, along with another Ward member who had been injured during the fight.
The Lasting Hunger Page 34