by G. R. Carter
When their preparations were made, they finally paused to think.
“We need to get out there and find Lori,” Oliver said to his friend.
Levi rubbed his head in thought. The big man’s red hair reflected the dim light shining through the window as he moved it back and forth. “I don’t know, brother. We got this guy,” he jabbed a thumb up the stairs, “to worry about.”
“So, let’s kill him and get going.”
Levi started to protest, then said nothing.
Oliver tried to sway Levi’s thinking. “I know, I know. Not exactly how we see ourselves doing things. But there’s a war on out there.” Heavy weapons fire followed by muffled explosions rattled the glasses in the cabinet. “Wasson said this guy we’re watching is the worst of the worst. Real evil. So what’s the problem? We’ve killed plenty of people in battle.”
Levi cringed. Oliver was right. Each of them shared responsibility – directly or indirectly – for the deaths of dozens or even hundreds of men. Doing so in defense of those they loved meant something, but the consequences of their actions still weighed heavy on them both.
Oliver continued. “Time’s ticking, Levi. You coming with me?”
Now the big river rat’s temper was flaring. He fought the urge to curse, biting his lip on nearly every word. “’Course I’m going with you, Liam. God’s sake, I’m not lettin’ you go play hero without me. But we’re not just gonna execute the guy. We’ll let whatever happens happen.”
“Fine, we’ll do it your way.” Oliver immediately headed for the back door before Levi could reply. He was out and crouching behind a blackberry bush more quickly than Levi had ever seen him move. The older man moved from tree to tree, then to the shed, moving his way through the backyards of the remaining homes of Beardstown. Downtown came closer to them. Wisely, Oliver slowed his pace.
Levi caught up with his friend, crouching down behind some fencing and an old flowerbed. From here they could see Lori’s headquarters. A bright flash from the roof gave away the source of the heavy weapons fire. Yellowish tongues of flame lashed out towards some unseen target. Then it went silent as pieces of the building’s façade flew off in little geysers of sand and rock. Levi heard Oliver gasp, then exhale loudly as the big gun belched fire again.
“Holding out, I guess,” Oliver said absently. “I don’t see anybody else firing back.”
“I’d bet they’re not there. Probably a rear guard while the rest are getting to the towers.”
Oliver stirred, searching back and forth for any signs of Lori, Wasson, or any of their crew. “Should we help them?” he asked as he nodded towards the big gun, still barking.
“Can’t help him, I guess. Don’t figure we can get to the bridges, either. He wouldn’t be shootin’ at nothin’ across the river. Too far. Reckon the jijis done got—”
Levi ducked down and forced Oliver down to the ground, too. Even though they landed with a thud, both tried to keep silent.
After a moment, Levi finally raised his head slightly above the overgrown vegetation. Oliver did the same. Seeing nothing, he asked, “What in the world did you see?”
“Spider men,” Levi rasped. The tone was one of dread mixed with hate.
“Heading which way?”
Levi pointed back towards their house.
Oliver saw the dilemma in the big man’s face. He felt it himself, torn between duty and personal business. The choice had been easy when hypothetical. Now knowing their very important prisoner was about to be reunited with his henchmen, Levi felt embarrassed for having refused to kill him.
“How many?” Oliver asked, trying to make the illogical make sense.
“Five or six.”
“Your boy Kal with them?”
Levi simply nodded.
“Right down the street? That’s pretty brazen. They must think there’s nobody left in town to fight them.”
Levi shrugged. “Figure everyone who’s going to make it to the fortresses is there already.” His point was reinforced by a woman’s bloodcurdling scream from a few houses away. He perked up his head, trying to find where it came from.
Oliver pulled him back. “We’re probably cut off, too. What should we do? Make it to one of the tunnels under the walls? Get out into the woods and hold out there for a while?” Oliver asked. He would have been disappointed if Levi agreed to the idea. He didn’t.
“Naw, I reckon we go back and see about our prisoner. We can still make that right.”
Oliver looked at his friend and nodded. “Yeah. Probably best. Okay, lead the way.”
The men retraced their trip, stopping a couple of houses away from their own. One of the spider men crouched beside the stair case leading up to the back porch. Fortunately, he paid more attention to approaches from the street than the backyards.
“Figure one more in the front. That leaves three inside.” Levi said.
“Or four. You said five or six in the street.”
“Reckon so. Plus the guy himself – the prisoner, I mean.”
Oliver took a deep sigh. “We got some kerosene in the back shed. How about we burn it? Get ‘em as they’re coming out.”
Levi gave a surprised glance to Oliver, then realized he was dead serious. Levi looked back at the house, then at the shed. Without agreeing or disagreeing, he simply said, “How do we keep from gettin’ noticed by him?” He pointed towards the man at the back porch.
“I’m going to shoot him.”
Levi turned again. “Not exactly quiet-like, brother.”
“I’m going to shoot him, then run for the shed. You’re going to shoot up the back porch, then run around to the front and shoot up the front. They’ll think they’re surrounded and stay inside. At least until I can get the back porch lit up.”
Oliver seemed quite satisfied with his plan. Levi wasn’t entirely convinced. “They’ll get you ‘fore you get them.”
Oliver shrugged. “Then don’t let ‘em get me.”
Levi searched his mind desperately for another plan. Oliver would be too exposed for too long against a superior force. But time was ticking: the whole group would be coming out any minute. They couldn’t afford to allow his mistake of conscience to go unrectified. Finally, he nodded. “Okay, but let me shoot him. You can’t hit the broad side of a barn. Try to get as close as you can to the shed. Soon as I see him notice you, I’ll drop’m.”
Without another word of argument, Oliver was up and slinking away. He was in good shape for a man his age and strong as an ox. Still, his knees had seen too many winters, and he didn’t crouch nearly as low as Levi would have liked. As his friend disappeared behind cover, Levi’s attention turned to the man at the back porch, watching for any signs of detection.
He waited and waited, for what seemed like an eternity. Concern grew. Maybe somebody caught him on the way to the shed, he worried.
Levi thought about going after him, then stopped. Back porch man’s attention focused on where Oliver should be about now. Levi calmly raised his rifle to his eye and moved his finger to the trigger. Just as he was ready to squeeze, another man stepped out of the back door. The back-porch guard said something Levi couldn’t make out, then began to walk to the gravel driveway alongside the house.
The sound of gunfire ricocheted between the houses and the tree line. Levi was still watching the man walking down the driveway. As he swung to head back where he came, Levi aimed and dropped him with a quick burst. Then he turned his attention to the back of the house, unloading the contents of his magazine into the vinyl-and-glass enclosure. On cue, Oliver was running up with a can in his hand. He doused the outside of the house with whatever liquid was contained inside, then threw the can into the broken windows. He reached in his pocket. His hands came up empty. Then he patted his coat, searching frantically.
Levi quickly loaded another magazine into his rifle and squeezed short bursts into the house. He half-hoped that would cause the blaze to ignite, but no luck. “Oliver, let’s go!” he shouted to his frie
nd. Oliver swung his head to look at the sound of his voice. Levi could see the look of frustration and confusion etched into the older man’s face.
The back door burst open and Levi watched in horror as three spider men came running out towards Oliver.
“No!” Levi shouted and fired his weapon, then took off at a dead sprint towards them. Oliver had his rifle slung over his shoulder, but he managed to get it around in time to drop one of the men just a few feet away. The bullets hit the spider man like a sledgehammer, sending his rag-doll corpse tumbling backwards. The other two were on him in an instant. Oliver went over backwards under the weight. Levi was sprinting to get there, but it was too late. While one was holding Oliver’s arms, the other plunged a six-inch blade into his chest.
Levi let out a bloodcurdling scream as he hit both spider men at full speed. His force knocked the knifeman five feet away. Levi grabbed the other by the neck and twisted with such violence that the pop of bones cracking was audible. The knifeman had regained his balance now and came at Levi in a crouch. He swung the knife. Levi caught the man’s arm with his left hand, then chopped with his right at the elbow joint. The knife jolted free as the arm’s tendons snapped in half. Then Levi pulled the limp limb and brought the knife man’s tattooed face towards his own at impossible speeds. His red head smashed into the knife man’s, yielding more breaking sounds as the tattooed nose exploded in blood and cartilage. As his adversary fell like a bag of bones, Levi took his huge boot and brought it down on the stricken man’s bleeding face. Again, and again and again.
Levi realized he was still screaming. He was panting, out of breath and shaking from rage and adrenaline.
“River rat!” a voice yelled at him. “I got you next!”
Levi turned to look, nearly blinded by tears and attempts to catch his breath. But he recognized his adversary immediately. “I’m going to break you in half,” he told Kal between gasps for breath.
He wanted to check on Oliver, though he knew considering the circumstances it was probably too late to help. A bearded man, their prisoner from upstairs, appeared behind Kal. “Let’s go,” he said impatiently. “Shoot the bastard and let’s get out of here. We have more important business than your feuds.”
“No!” yelled Kal. “I want his soul. Can only take his soul by cutting it out!”
“Whatever,” Demetrius replied in a huff. “I’m taking your men with me. Come find us when you’re done with your little game.”
Kal hadn’t heard a single word Demetrius said. His knives were unsheathed, one in each hand, and he twirled them around. “I take your soul. I eat your heart. And his,” he growled as he pointed towards Oliver’s lifeless body. Then his nearly toothless smile went wide. “And then hers.”
Levi said nothing. He unsheathed the leather-handled knife he’d carried on his belt since the first day he’d stepped out onto a river barge. He swung it slowly to get the feel in his hand and to give him one last opportunity to even his breathing.
The two circled each other for a moment. Kal crouched, ready to lunge. Levi readied himself, trying to watch both knives and get prepared for whatever tricks might be headed his way.
Kal suddenly stood straight up and squealed. It was an odd sound, one like Levi had never quite heard before. Then Kal turned his back. Levi didn’t hesitate. He thrust his knife into the ink spider webs up to the hilt. As he twisted the blade, he noticed something odd. Another knife hilt was sticking out of Kal’s back just a few inches away from his own.
In shock, Levi looked over Kal’s shoulder and saw Wasson trotting up. Without a word, Wasson slit Kal’s throat with another blade. Kal slid to the ground, his face silent with dismay as he fell. Wasson removed his throwing knife from Kal’s back, then wiped it off on the dead man’s clothing.
“No time for nonsense, Levi Marshall. We must reach our friends before Old Scratch does.”
The words confused Levi, but he moved to follow. Then he stopped and looked back at Oliver. Wasson grabbed his arm. “He rests with the Creator, brother,” the Tracker said. “Do not dishonor his sacrifice now. We will tend to his mortal remains when there is time.”
Levi could not recall a time in his life he’d ever cried. The tears came now. Then the anger burned them away. He nodded to Wasson and they took off at a trot. Levi wasn’t sure where they were going, but he was in a sudden hurry to get there.
After what seemed like an eternity, the two finally crouched behind a rust-streaked fuel tank, long since empty but still providing the security of cast iron. Levi could see the upper levels of the fortress they looked to gain access to. Wasson moved slowly to peek around the rounded end of the tank, then moved slowly back to speak with Levi.
“Completely surrounded,” he whispered. “I do not see a way in.”
Levi pondered their options for a moment. He and Wasson had to get inside the inner fortress that made up the heart of Beardstown. He glanced up, looking for signs of movement on top of the soaring concrete towers that had once been a small-town grain elevator.
He could see no sign of their people, but a sharp crack followed by a ground level scream announced that Lori and her group were safely tucked away inside, and whoever showed themselves out here was going to get a high-velocity visit.
“What do we do?” Levi asked quietly.
Wasson was still deep in thought. Finally, he nodded. “What I tried to do before: we drop the bridge. That will cut off the rest of the Caliphate forces from entering the city.”
“How?” Levi said as Wasson took another look around the tank.
He stayed there for a moment. “I will have to do it manually,” he whispered as he turned back. “Remember, there are detonation devices on the bridge itself.”
Levi remembered the first night when the Boar King arrived. The entire town was certain they were under attack, and the bridges would have to be blown. He also remembered how hard it was to get to the place Wasson was suggesting. “The town is teeming with jijis and spiders. How you gonna walk on that bridge without no one seein’ you?”
Wasson pointed to the frozen river. “I will not walk over, I will climb up.”
Levi started to object, then stopped. He knew Wasson was capable of the task. As for himself…well, working over the river was supposed to be his specialty. He’d do what needed done, but between the freezing cold, the ice below, few places to tie climbing ropes off, and the ever-present possibility of being discovered, this was going to be unlike any challenge he’d ever faced.
Levi was working through the problem in his mind, developing solutions for each step of the process. He stalled at the completion phase. “Wait a second, Wasson. How do you set those bombs off and still get out of there with your skin?” he asked.
The Tracker put his hand on the big man’s shoulder and gave him a sorrowful look.
Chapter Twenty
Westgate Fortress
Red Hawk Republic Border with ARK
Near Present Day Highland, Illinois
Alex stared at maps spread out in front of him, studying each and every route still available. Some had ruined bridges they’d need to bypass, others held perfect ambush points. He put himself in his opponent’s shoes, thinking as they would, determining where he would try to slow the armored onslaught that was the Shield of the Okaw. He’d memorized every inch of the brittle paper, a priceless pre-Reset topographical he’d borrowed from the Archives. But still he stared. Things popped out at him sometimes. Most of the time it just calmed his nerves.
The Charles Martel’s engine hummed under his seat, throwing off enough heat to keep him comfortable in his mobile office. This Valkyrie had been built especially for him, with an extra open area where armored truck of this class usually carried eight fully-armed Silver Shields. The fold down ramp at the back was replaced by something more akin to a ship’s door, armored and secure, but still more accessible to the constant stream of subordinates coming in and out.
Lighting inside needed improvement, but it was
adequate, and an old wind-up lamp still functioning twenty years after its creation helped Alex’s single eye. The padded bench seat he sat on was salvaged from an RV the Hamiltons once used to house townspeople seeking food and safety on their farm after the Reset. It was one of those little reminders of simpler days, and had the added benefit of folding out into a bed. All he had to do was move the desk holding his maps over to the other side of the vehicle, slide out the bottom, and he could curl up for a quick nap. He seemed to need those little times of rest more and more.
Vehicles came and went outside, and he heard them all. Laughing and mild cursing echoed amongst his men as they worked on equipment that hated the cold almost as much as its handlers did.
Most of the Shield was holed up in a massive fortress created out of concrete and steel. Westgate was a prototype purpose-built fortresses of the Republic. Wizards historically would find a sturdy building, preferably an old grain elevator, and build a Fortress Farm around it. Here, though, they had started from an empty field. From the ground up, it was built with multiple layers of defenses to withstand anything short of heavy artillery. There was plenty of room inside for the troops, where there was real heat, cold beer and strong showers. Those who drew the short straw spent time standing watch and maintaining the vehicles. Alex stayed with the outside group most of the time.
He heard the rumble of an engine pull up outside, distinct through the armored skin that protected him. He was distracted from his work for a moment, wondering who it might be. Being nestled inside his cocoon was handy when bullets were flying, but terrible for the situational awareness he longed for. He had to rely on the eyes of others.
The swing out door at the back cracked open just a bit, letting cold air fill the compartment in an instant. A Silver Shield poked his head inside. “Founder Hamilton, you’ve got a visitor,” then he disappeared. He heard the young man deliver an excited “Against the Storm!” to someone. His brother’s face appeared in the opening.