by Kyle West
But the real test was to come soon, as the Reapers wrapped up their own northern wars. With their last rivals out of the way, L.A. was split in two. Anything north of I-10 was unquestionably a possession of Carin Black and the Reapers. The south was iffier, but anything firmly in or around Compton was the Angels’ seat of power.
The Reapers, by far, were more numerous, even if many of their slaves sought safety in Angel territory. More people meant more hands to work the fields, more soldiers, and more specialists, the old ones who had training from the Old World. Raine made it a priority for those people to take apprentices to pass on their skills.
But none of that mattered, not unless they could hold back the Reapers, who outmanned and outgunned them. With the Angels’ newest arrivals, there weren’t enough guns to go around. Some would have to fight with cruder weapons.
And so, Raine bided his time, shoring up the defenses of Angel Command and not even committing to defending the long line of the interstate, as Black seemed to be doing.
Then, one day a few months after the Angels had won their southern war, the Reapers started to advance, slowly taking territory south of I-10 with little resistance.
The First Reaper War had begun.
Chapter 15
WAR HAD BEEN GOING on for a couple of weeks, and the Angels had lost most everything up to the northern border of Compton. It was bad for morale, but it was also part of the plan. Raine had to commit his men where they would be most effective. Carin and the Reapers could afford to lose three for every one of the Angels’ losses.
So, Raine had to pick his fights carefully. Ohlan cautioned him to never take an open battle, but to strike from the shadows and beat the Reapers through a war of attrition, to engage in guerilla warfare. Roadblocks kept the Reapers’ biker cavalry in check, forcing their slave armies to push forward, many wielding things as crude as a plank of wood as their weapon. The Reapers’ slaves were the meat shield, ordered to charge in a frenzy induced from a cocktail of booze and drugs.
The real threat came from behind the slaves, the Reaper soldiers with their rifles, practiced aim, and veteran street warfare tactics. The Angels ambushed them where they could, throwing molotovs on their passing troops, sniping at their captains. Things seemed to be working for a while, but there was a major problem with the Angels’ strategy.
Raine couldn’t just abandon Lost Angels’ Command. The rest of the Angels’ army was formless, appearing where they were least expected, attacking at night, blowing up supply trucks with explosives secured from a local military base.
But so long as Angel Command was there, Carin Black could assault it and all but win the war by capturing it.
Despite their losses, the Reapers plowed forward. Carin Black would see the Angels’ base in flames or die in the attempt.
RAINE ROARED PAST THE open gates of Angel Command on his chopper, coming back from his patrol late one evening about a month after the start of the war.
“Close the gate!” he called over his shoulder. “They’re coming!”
Though his voice was lost to the roar of the engine, the guard on duty signaled for the thick wooden barrier to be closed. Raine watched to make sure his command was followed. To his relief, the gate began rolling shut.
Now, they would see if it would hold.
A throng of people stood in the center of the dirt yard outside HQ, foremost among them Dan, who only betrayed his surprise with a slight widening of his blue eyes. Raine braked hard before he could run into them, sliding to a stop that kicked up a choking cloud of dust. Everyone stared at him in mute shock.
“Sound the alarm!” he called out. “Reapers!”
Everyone sprang into action, scurrying different directions toward their assigned battle stations. Riflemen ascended the high towers built behind the wooden perimeter.
Raine took note of the huddled group of some fifty refugees standing in front of Dan, the most recent batch of freedmen.
“Anyone who can shoot, to me!” Raine said, his voice carrying over the whole yard. “The rest of you, go inside the main hall.”
The people rushed to obey, and Raine was disappointed that only four men came to join him. He supposed he should be grateful there were any refugees at all who could use a gun.
Up above, he heard his men taking shots and the collective roar of the Reaper biker cavalry. It was just a moment later that several fiery streaks streamed overhead, lighting up the late evening sky.
“Scatter!” he yelled.
The molotovs crashed in the center of the dirt yard, each one sending an explosive plume of flame that scattered hot shards of glass. Two of Raine’s followers weren’t quick enough in dodging, and went up like gas-doused torches.
Thankfully, the firebombs didn’t catch on anything flammable, but even now, more streamed toward the main building.
No one can throw that far, Raine thought. They’re using something to launch ‘em.
Already, men and women were carrying buckets and tubs from the water pump and prepping to fight their own battle against the fires. A shed was already up in flames, being the target of several of the bottles, and a group of women were throwing as much water as they could onto it.
Raine hefted his M5, one of the few in the Angels’ possession. Most had been confiscated from some Bunker survivors who had found their way into the Angels’ base recently; the weapons were put to better use in the Angels’ capable hands.
Dan approached, locked and loaded with his own M5.
“Orders, Boss?”
“Dan, get these men outfitted and on the east wall.”
Before Raine could even see his order fulfilled, he ran toward the main gate. The Reaper bikes were still roaring outside the perimeter. There must have been several dozen of them, the same ones that had ambushed him while out on patrol. If the Reaper army was behind the bikers, Raine and the Angels would be in a lot of trouble.
They would find out soon whether this was just a raid, or whether the Reapers meant to end the Angels once and for all.
As men on the ramparts fired at the swarming bikes, Raine climbed the ladder to join them. A heavy machine gun placed in one of the towers was already under fire from below, and was the only weapon the Angels had that could make a dent in the bikes. Several of the bikers had fallen already, but it wasn’t enough.
Still, the molotovs rained down. At least a third of the yard now was a roaring inferno. Reaper men waited down the street, hiding inside the buildings, lighting more of the weapons while handing them to the bikers driving by.
“Stop those damn bikes!” Raine shouted.
A heavy bell tolled from the main building, which had been procured from a local church. They needed God to save them from this onslaught. Most of the smaller fires were already dying down in the yard, aided by the endless stream of buckets entering their contents onto them. More of the tattooed bikers were starting to fall, now that the initial shock of the attack was over. The Angels were returning fire from behind the ramparts with discipline.
There might be hope yet, Raine thought. I’ve still got my ace.
But the timing was everything.
“Samuel!” a female voice called.
That voice. Raine snapped around, to see little Makara running past the flames toward . . . someone. One of the Bunker refugees they’d picked up last night, who had been under confinement.
“No!” Raine shouted, from across the yard. “Makara, inside, now!”
But she didn’t even look his direction.
Raine charged forward, heedless of all danger. A molotov fell from above, which Raine dodged just barely, skidding to a stop and backing up. The burst of flames blinded him as his skin crackled from the heat. He grunted, and all he could do was hold up a hand and hope he didn’t become a human torch.
He was still safe. He skirted the conflagration, running to bar Makara’s path. He blinked to get his eyes to stop seeing spots. The darkness made her hard to pick out.
“Samuel!”
she cried. “Samuel!”
Samuel? Makara had told him about her big brother. But how could he be here?
Impossible. He was dead.
Makara, who was now ten, was oblivious to the danger around her. She pumped her arms, running as if she were possessed.
But Raine was just in time to intercept her, scooping her up into his arms. “You need to be inside, Mak! Now!”
“Samuel!” she said, tears streaming down her face. “Put me down, Raine! Put me down!”
To Raine’s surprise, she bit him on the ear. That pain nearly made him drop her.
“What the hell! Knock it off, Mak! You trying to get yourself killed?”
He held her at arm’s length, even as she flailed like a fish out of water, her tearful eyes never even looking at him. Raine followed her line of sight to see the object of her attention.
A boy, who seemed no more than fifteen years of age, was ringed by a circle of flames.
Chapter 16
RAINE CHARGED EVEN as a thunderous crash sounded from the direction of the gate. The heat of the flames was unreal, but he didn’t let that distract him. He knew he should’ve been up front commanding his men, but here he was instead, rescuing two kids who didn’t know how to stay inside when they were told to.
Well, Makara at least. Samuel had been among the Bunker survivors, and seeing his sister had made him run off on his own. Still, for his age, Samuel was a big and strong lad, with wide shoulders and a mop of brown hair. His face was hard and square. He appeared unduly calm, as if he had seen flames before, and had survived them.
Raine did his best to ignore the sweltering heat. If either he or Samuel went through the flames, that would be a death sentence.
There was only one thing he could do. But he didn’t know if there was enough time.
“Stay out of the flames, Samuel,” Raine said. “I’ll be right back.”
Raine sprinted toward the bucket brigade. He must have been quite the sight.
“Buckets on that flame, now! There’s a kid in there!”
Instantly, the civilians diverted their course. Within moments, the flames were being doused by dozens of buckets.
Raine watched their progress, even as he kept an eye on the gate rocking back and forth. They were battering it with something, probably a truck, judging by the roar of a diesel engine. The flames surrounding Samuel died down, little by little, but not quickly enough. There was some rubble feeding the flames. But the wall of fire was weaker on one side, the side Raine stood on.
“Samuel, you’ll have to jump after the buckets douse it,” Raine said. “It’s going to keep coming back.”
Samuel nodded, waiting for the splash of several buckets in tandem before charging forward and giving a mighty leap. He cried out as he fell on the other side, the hem of one of his pant legs catching fire. Instantly, he was doused with water until nothing but steam hissed off him.
By now, Makara had run up and was hugging her brother fiercely, tears running rivers down her soot-covered face. He grimaced from her touch; it would have been impossible for him to have remained within that circle without getting burned at least a little bit. But he didn’t protest, and held her protectively.
“Get them both inside,” Raine said, turning to a nearby woman. “Make sure they’re all right. Find Isabel Robles, if you can.”
“Will do, Raine,” the woman said.
“Raine!” Makara shouted.
“Not now, Makara!” Raine said. “Get inside, and if you come back out here again, you’ll wish you were with the Reapers!”
Makara’s eyes widened a bit at that, but Raine had to say something to get her to listen.
The firebombs had mostly ceased by now, but Raine’s attention was on the gate, against which came another loud crash.
“Raine!”
Dan’s voice crackled from the radio on Raine’s side
“What is it?” Raine asked, raising it to his mouth.
“If we wait any longer . . .”
Dan said nothing more, just in case there were some Reaps listening in. Raine watched and considered as the gate was battered again, splintering a bit in the middle, revealing the grill of a large truck.
“Just a minute longer,” Raine said. “If they bust it open, they bust it open. But this has got to work, Dan. How many hours have we spent on this? We can’t just do it halfway!”
Raine’s comment went unanswered. Dan might disagree, but he wasn’t going to counter Raine. Not about this, when hundreds of lives were at stake.
Raine ran until he was at the gate, where several dozen men waited with their weapons; old guns, blunt instruments, even a few swords and shabby shields made of corrugated metal. Raine looked out at these brave men, hoping that they wouldn’t all be dead in the next few minutes.
“We hold ’em here!” he shouted, his voice loud enough to carry despite the cacophony of gunshots and motors. “Off the wall, now! Down here! Hold ‘em long enough, that’s all we have to do!”
From the confused faces staring back at him, Raine knew that most of them didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. They probably all thought they were goners. And they might be, for all Raine knew. But if this worked, then it would be the stuff of legends.
Raine’s voice was cut off when what remained of the front gate fractured in the center. There was an odd moment of silence when the gunshots stopped, the roar of the bikes lessened, and the shouts of men and screams of women quieted.
Something big is about to happen, all right, Raine thought. This had better damned work.
The men formed ranks around him, pointing their guns into the breach that could fill with Reapers any minute, even as others were setting up shabby barricades to begin the final stand. The only reason they weren’t pouring through, Raine realized, was because of how thick the smoke was, and the small size of the breach.
There’s time yet, Raine realized.
That thought was dashed from his mind from a single, guttural yell. They poured through. First came a few long pikes, prodding for purchase, splitting the broken timbers aside to make way. A few heads appeared, along with wild, frightened eyes, with men carrying nothing more than large shields designed to cover two or more men.
The human cannon fodder came through by the dozens, a wall of shields, and in between those shields, long pikes.
“Fire!” Raine yelled. “Fire!”
Even as the Reapers’ meat shield started to disintegrate, more still slipped through, engaging his men with feral tenacity. Their emaciated forms and lack of signature Reap tats told Raine that these men were slaves, just fodder to clear the way for proper soldiers.
“Hold position!” Raine ordered. “We hold ’em here!”
A large club swung toward Raine’s head, which he narrowly dodged. A bullet fired from the breach, missing him by an inch.
He hastily pulled out his radio. His men were already falling. A minute more, and there’d be no way they came back from these losses. “Now, Dan. Now!”
Not a moment later, there was a deafening explosion from beyond the walls, followed shortly by screams. For those who were screaming, Raine knew there was no chance.
“Everyone get down!” Raine shouted. “Back to HQ!”
He didn’t know if anyone had heard him, but they were following. The pikemen and shield bearers remained behind, confused at the explosion and the Angels’ sudden retreat.
When they turned around, they found out why.
The large, multistory building across the street was collapsing, and when fully fallen, would crush the hundreds of Reaper soldiers waiting to charge into Angel Command.
There was no sound other than that colossal crash, which was now toppling against other buildings. The screams were drowned out, as even more buildings fell, as a great dust rose into the air. The whole thing took maybe a minute, and even after that minute, there were still aftershocks of concrete continuing to fall on the street outside.
Silence reigned as a
swell of dust rose over the walls, engulfing the Angels that hadn’t yet retreated into HQ. Raine was among them. He covered his nose and mouth with his kerchief, wetting it first with his canteen. Even so, he started hacking, along with everyone else around him. Raine waited for that dust to clear, but it just wouldn’t. It grew even thicker. He knew buildings like this had dangerous chemicals in them, chemicals everyone in this base would be exposed to now.
“Back up,” he finally said, his voice somber. “We all need to get inside and assess things. We’ll sweep things out there, see if there are any survivors.”
Chapter 17
MAKARA AND HER OLDER brother held each other in the dark corridors of Angel Command. Isabel Robles sat beside them, nervously staring into the shadows as the rattle of gunfire sounded outside, while the building itself shook from the impacts of God knew what.
“Don’t worry, children,” she said, her voice not entirely convincing. “We’ll make it through all right.”
Makara might have only been ten, but she was old enough to know that Miss Robles was trying to convince herself more than them.
“Maybe we should get lower in the building,” Samuel said, his hand tightening over his little sister’s. Makara moved closer to him, hardly believing that he was here. Despite what has happening outside, despite the death and destruction, she couldn’t feel anything but elation.
It had been over three years since that day, and Samuel seemed almost like a grown man to her, looking like his father while having her mother’s kind brown eyes.
There would be time for stories later, though. He had told her that their copter had run out of fuel early, but most everyone had survived the crash. He and the survivors had lived on the outskirts of Angel territory, undetected, for years.