by James Hunt
The nurse pulled the bandage tight, and Chris winced from the pressure. She patted him gently on the stomach then left. Chris propped himself up on his elbows from the layer of grass and leaves they’d set him on and shook his head. “And to think I thought she didn’t understand a word I was saying.”
Chris was covered with sweat, and they hadn’t changed him out of the filthy, torn clothes that he’d worn when he received the wound. His skin was clammy, and despite the life in his voice, dark circles had formed under his eyes, and his arms shook when he propped himself up. “You look like shit.”
Chris collapsed to his back, his arms no longer able to support him. He let out a sigh. “Look who’s talking. I’d been asking about you.”
Jason squatted next to the puffy layer of brush where Chris lay and put his hand on Chris’s shoulder. His skin felt like fire. “You’re burning up.”
“I am? I thought it was just the climate.” Chris shifted uneasily on the foliage. When Jason went to reach for the bandages, Chris snatched Jason’s wrist like a viper biting a rabbit, stopping it dead cold in its tracks. “Don’t. I already know what’s under there.”
Jason retracted his hand. “If you’re infected, we need to get you to an actual doctor. The Brazilians have some of the best here. They can help.”
“And how do you expect us to pay them? Or even get me there? We’re both wanted men, and who knows what happened to the rest of the crew on the ship once Ruiz tried to take you.” Chris’s lips were split and cracked, his clothes soaked with sweat.
“I’m not going to let you die here.” Jason knew that Chris was right about the rest of the crew. Ruiz had no need for them once he had fled. Maybe a few were tortured to get some information, but by now they had all been killed and dumped in a pit somewhere. Three hundred men, dead, for him. “No one else is going to die for me. Not while I can help.”
Chapter 4
Dust drifted down from the rafters with every explosion from the cannons firing beyond the outskirts of Sydney, settling on frightened faces looking up, just waiting for the building to collapse on top of them and bury them in a tomb in which they had voluntarily placed themselves.
Lance sat in the corner, a nurse tending to his left shoulder, watching the fear and anxiety grow on the refugee faces with every rattle and shake of the structure. It was the only distraction to the needle and thread the nurse weaved over the wound.
“Okay, Captain Mars.” The nurse knotted the end of the thread that sealed up the shrapnel wound. “You should be all set. The stitches could tear, so I’d limit your mobility as best as you can.”
Lance threw on his shirt, covering up a chest, back, and stomach carved with scars, a history of war etched upon his skin like braille. “Hard to keep still in battle.” He buckled his belt, his sword and pistol swinging slightly from his left and right hip.
A shriek spread through the room on Lance’s way to the door when a cannon exploded closer than any before it. He stopped in the doorframe, looked back, and for once there were more eyes on him than the roof. The elderly, women, children, those too sick or wounded to fight, all of them sharing the same fate if the Chinese broke through the lines.
A small boy grabbed Lance’s pant leg, stopping him. “You’re a captain?” The boy sat in the lap of his mother, who clutched him protectively.
Lance knelt down to meet him at eye level. “That’s right.”
The boy’s eyes widened at his words. “You’re going to stop the people from trying to hurt us?”
The young boy reminded him of his nephew, Sam. They both shared the same blond hair and curious eyes. He had the mind of his mother, thank God. The gruff, coarse voice accustomed to barking orders softened as he answered, “I will.”
The boy looked up to his mother, smiling and jumping up and down. “Did you hear that? We’re going to be okay.” And while the mother returned her child’s smile, Lance noticed the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.
“You keep your mom safe until I do, though, all right?” Lance tousled the boy’s hair and left before there was another distraction to cloud his focus. Outside, the sky had finally darkened, but the bombardment from the Chinese fleet provided a lightning show both in the bay and on land. The Chinese were closing the gap.
Canice already had his horse ready, and Lance winced slightly when he pulled himself into the saddle. “Have they figured anything out yet?” He spurred his horse, and the two galloped through the empty streets of Sydney. Everyone had either fled, barred themselves in their homes, or were on the front lines, keeping the wolves at bay.
“Not yet,” Canice answered, keeping with Lance’s pace. “The Chinese are using some type of code. All we’re translating is garbled nonsense.”
They crested a hill that overlooked the bay, and Lance pulled up his reins. Lines of gunpowder and smoke curled out of the side of the ships like the long, bony fingers of death, slowly inching closer to claim their souls. Lanterns dotted the galleys in the black ocean waters, the thousands of candlelights offered its competition to the stars above. “Any word or sightings from the scouts sent to retrieve the rest of the Aussie Navy?” The dozen ships that were left to plug the port’s entrance looked half sunk.
“Not yet.”
Lance gritted his teeth, squeezing the reins tight enough to crumble the leather in his fingers. “Where are the engineers now?”
“The town hall.”
Lance spurred his mount, the beast’s hooves clapping against the dirt with thunderous applause, Canice chasing after him. He pushed the animal dangerously fast through the narrow streets and skinny alleyways. Mud flung from the horse’s shoes, and it puffed breathlessly in the hurried gallop that Lance leaned into.
Lance pulled the reins, and the horse skidded to a stop just outside the town hall steps, nearly crashing through the front door. By the time Canice caught up with him, he was already taking his first steps inside.
Six men huddled around the dismantled radio spread out on a table. Copper, iron, wood, and wires were all strewn about in the manner of a coroner dissecting a dead body. The mumble of Chinese dialect crackled through the speakers. “Lance?” Danny asked, stepping away from the others. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to know where the Chinese are headed and how many are coming.” The ride over had found Lance short of breath. He jammed his finger into the chest of a short, skinny man, his long nose just as pointy as the angles of his shoulders. “If you don’t figure it out, we’re going to die.”
“W-we’re going as fast as we can, but frankly we’ve never seen anything like this before. I-I mean we’ve seen pictures in old books, but never the real thing.”
“Lance,” Danny cut in, stepping in front of the rambling engineer before either Lance hit him or the engineer peed himself. “We’re in over our heads. These guys won’t be able to decode what the Chinese are saying, not in the time frame we need them to.”
“So that’s it?” Canice asked, stepping inside. “Why bother even trying to fight? Huh? Why risk everything we have if we’re just going to die!” She flipped a chair over, and it smacked to the floor. She gripped one of the engineers by the collar and pinned him against the wall. “You listen to me, you sniveling shit. I’ve had just about enough of my crew die here trying to help you, so you get on that fucking radio and find out where the Chinese are going and when they’re getting there!”
“Canice, enough!” Once Lance barked his orders, she let the engineer go, and he scurried back to the others, seeking safety in numbers. “The Chinese are out there right now, mounting an offensive to take the city. They know they’ve worn us thin. When they decide to push through, this city will no longer be under Australian control.”
Boots shuffled, and two wheezing soldiers nearly fell over one another when they entered. “Sir,” the shorter officer bellowed, “our lines outside the city”—he heaved in another breath—“the Chinese are attacking.”
The Aussies had built a
makeshift wall over the past three days on the west end of the city. It was the only portion of Sydney that wasn’t protected by rocks or water, making it the easiest point of entry. While they had done their best to limit the number of soldiers landing on shore, more and more were traveling farther north and south beyond the range of their cannons, allowing the Chinese to mount their attack in the rear. And once the Chinese army that marched from Perth arrived, and the Chinese from Brisbane made their way south, the battle would turn into a massacre.
Before Danny issued the order to arms, Lance and Canice were out the door and on their mounts. Screams and gunshots thickened the air the farther they rode west. Lance turned the corner down an alleyway sharply, his freshly stitched shoulder grazing the corner as a cannonball burst through the roof of the building on his left, followed by three more on his right, silencing the screams inside. Once out of the alleyway, they had a clear view of the battlefield.
Swarms of Chinese rushed the field, the Australian artillery unit scrambling to push them back with a relentless barrage of lead. But with the number of Chinese, a few slipped through the cracks, and if enough got through, then their line in the sand would break.
Lance spurred his horse, racing toward battle, and the animal accepted the invitation willingly. His stallion edged Canice’s by a nose as they reared up behind the artillery unit. Lance dismounted before it came to a stop, and the beast whinnied from the thunderous cannons.
A host of soldiers waited nervously behind the veil of the cannons, some gripping rifles, others swords, clubs, and whatever weapons they could get their hands on. Some were dressed in military garb, others in common threads. He saw boys with peach fuzz under their chins and men with beards peppered with grey and white. The military had recruited every able body that could fight, and with the vast army heading their way, all of them were needed.
Artillery from the Chinese landed just a few feet from the Aussies’ cannons, spraying up dirt that rained earth over their heads. Everyone ducked low. Canice leaned in close, shouting over the clamor of war. “The moment we send these bakers and farmers out there, they’ll be slaughtered.”
“We don’t have a choice.” Lance ducked once more from a shot that landed even closer than the one before, casting more black earth over their bodies. “If we meet them out there now, we might give the rest of the city enough time to evacuate.”
Canice drew her sword and rallied the men behind her, all of them eager to follow anyone who had confidence in their voice. Lance found the commander and ordered a cease-fire from the artillery. “To arms! To arms!”
The small reserve behind Lance inched forward, and Canice joined his side along with the Australian commander. Lance pointed his sword to the Chinese gathered at the other end of the field. “Those men wish to take everything that is yours! Your home! Your food! Your family! All of it to be pillaged and burned. You are all that stands between them. Whatever god you pray to, let him bear witness now to your last stand. Let him see the culmination of everything that you are. Fight for your family. Your home. This is your country! If they must take it from you, then they will pry it from your clenched, rigid fist as they put you back into the earth from which you came!”
The pensive expressions on the soldiers erupted into a primal, savage scream. Fists pounded chests, and mouths spat curses. The scent of lead and blood circled the air. Before the night was done, the earth would be stained with the dead. “CHARGE!”
Lance pumped his legs, leading the stampede of soldiers. His muscles burned and went rigid as he edged closer to the advancing enemy. One last volley of artillery fire fell from the sky, followed by geysers of earth and men mushrooming from the earth upon impact just before the two forces collided.
Lance pulled his pistol on the run and took aim at the first Chinese soldier within range. One quick squeeze of the trigger and the powder ignited, ejecting the bullet from the muzzle, which sliced through the enemy’s chest, knocking him backwards, where he was trampled by his own men.
With his pistol discharged, Lance holstered it, bringing both hands to the hilt of his sword. The speed and force at which Lance swung nearly hacked the first soldier he came into contact with in half. Lance felt the tug of his blade as it sliced through bone, tendons, and organs. A brief glimpse of the side of his blade came into view, dripping of blood, just before he drove the tip into the stomach of his next victim.
The opposing waves of soldiers collided into each other, tearing one another apart. The deafening orchestra of death filled the night air with the clash of steel and the piercing screams of men. Savagery replaced reason, rage filled the void of courage, every soldier scraping at the very bottom of his soul to stay alive.
Lance sliced his saber across another stomach, spilling the enemy’s guts onto the field. He stumbled through the forest of the dead and dying, his shaky legs barely holding him on his two feet. Each step forward landed the sole of his boot in blood-soaked dirt. Another Chinese soldier flew at him, blood and dirt covering his face like war paint.
Lance parried, deflecting the soldier’s advancements, digging his heels in to force a stand. Sparks flew from each contact until Lance caught the man in the thigh, felling him to his knees. The man looked toward the sky, muttering jargon in his own native tongue until Lance silenced him with a slice of his throat.
“Captain!” Canice pointed the tip of her blade over Lance’s left shoulder, her face bloodied and dirty along with her clothes and hair.
Lance shifted left quickly, nearly breaking his ankles in the process, just before the axe’s blade could dig into his back, and it landed into the earth. Lance brought the tip of his boot across the soldier’s chin, sending him backwards, leaving the axe buried in the earth. The Chinese soldier crashed to the ground, and Lance thrust his saber, burying his own blade into the dirt as the man rolled right to avoid the strike.
The soldier pulled another hatchet from his belt. He circled Lance slowly, keeping low, his back hunched and the weapon passing back and forth between his palms. With the speed of a viper, he lunged forward, slicing nothing but air as he forced Lance to backpedal.
Lance dug his heels into the hard earth, parrying each advance from the soldier’s lightning-fast swings. Lance needed both hands on the sword’s hilt to bear the force of each blow, which sent vibrations down his arm, tearing the stitches in his shoulder.
The next swing of the hatchet, Lance ducked left then thrust his sword forward, narrowly missing the soldier, who countered with a swing of his own. The two continued their dance, their reaction speed increasing with every swing. They glided seamlessly together, both unyielding their ground. Lance’s pulse raced through his veins, the fatigue of war heavy as his heart pounded at breakneck speeds.
The hatchet grazed Lance’s left shoulder, and he winced, nearly dropping the blade from his hand. He parried back, but the Chinese soldier caught scent of the blood and pressed harder. Another slice of the hatchet scraped Lance’s right leg, and he stumbled to his knee. Lance blocked another death blow while he knelt, trying to get his feet underneath him, then rolled to his right.
But the soldier was relentless, coming at Lance the moment he stood. With his left arm bleeding, Lance feebly used his right to block the vicious blows, the saber tilting downward with each contact. One final swing, and Lance’s blade slipped from his hand, and he collapsed backwards into the mud. The enemy brought the hatchet high above his head to deliver the final strike.
Just before the blade fell, the tip of another blade thrust through the man’s chest, and the hatchet crashed to the earth. Canice pulled her blade out, and the man collapsed. She held out her hand and helped Lance up then returned his sword to him.
Lance panted for breath and clutched his bleeding shoulder, glancing around at the small battles around him, each soldier clawing forward one inch at a time, tooth and nail, doing whatever they could to stay alive. Eyes were gouged, arms were bitten, and throats were squeezed. All of the pulse-pounding adren
aline they drew fuel from burned and propelled them forward.
More Chinese soldiers crept their way onto the battlefield, and Lance looked back to see the first few enemies break past their final reserve of men and into the city. The leak had sprung, and now it was only a matter of time before the city sank.
Canice tugged at Lance’s arm, her voice ragged and cracked. “Captain, we need to get back to the ship.”
Lance shook his head. “It’s too late for that.” They would die on this field, slain with the other hundreds of soldiers. He might be able to get her back to the port authority, along with the rest of his crew, and bargain for their lives to be spared, but in the end, he knew the Chinese would just torture whatever truth they wanted to hear out of them then end the struggle with a red smile.
Alarms rang from horns in the city from the breach, wailing into the night. What Aussies remained on the field slowly retreated back into the city, running to their families, their friends, trying to save what was left of their own lives.
“We’ll fall back to the docks.” Lance joined in the retreat, sprinting toward the water as fast as his tired legs would carry him. Cannons thundered behind them, the Chinese advancing their artillery for a deeper range within the city. Bloody shoulders and arms bumped and crashed into one another as the citizens who’d locked themselves inside their homes suddenly burst from their dwellings and joined the massive retreat away from the steel and lead meant to kill them.
Artillery dropped around mothers clutching their children in flight to the port, and the elderly hobbled forward before being slain or trampled by the enemy or their own people. Alleyways clogged as the city’s inhabitants clustered at the docks. Screams, cries, and prayers all intermixed with the booming cannons that filled the night air.
Lance and Canice made their way to the Sani, the crew already prepared for departure. They could chance breaking through the front lines and engage the Chinese on the water, but he knew they’d be gunned down the moment they broke through the harbor’s entrance.