by Faith Hunter
“Yeah, well, I don’t plan on working for those ugly guys. I do a little good here and a little evil there. It all balances out in the end.”
“Don’t believe it. The scales are tipping in the wrong direction. Cleanse your soul, Jesse. Make right with the Lord.”
“Perhaps another day, kirkman. I’ve got things to do, and I get by okay.” Then Jesse turned to Lizbeth James. “Sure you don’t wanna come along? There’s room for one more.”
“No, I’m needed here.”
“Suit yourself,” Jesse said as she climbed into the truck, cranked the engine, and headed down the road to Atlanta. Michael, Reasha, and Jesse had left the mining town behind, and Brother Hope sent up a prayer that they would safely arrive at their destination.
As the truck disappeared in the distance, Lizbeth held out her hand to Brother Hope. He took it, a little unsure of what she was doing.
“It’s been a great run, Brother Hope,” she said, giving his hand a good shake, and not letting go. “I’m happy to have met and worked with you. I wish we’d had more time together. I’d like to have had the opportunity to get to know you much better.” She shouldered a rifle and a pack.
“I thought you were staying.”
“Oh, I am. But I’ll be more use to you outside. I found a cache of grenades, and I have as much ammo as I can carry. I’ll try to keep them off your door. Hopefully, they’ll settle for my kills as supper.”
“I don’t think that’s wise.”
“I’m best at sniping, Leon. I have to follow my talents on this one.”
“I don’t want you to go out there, Lizbeth.” He brought her hand closer and looked down at it. “Please don’t go out there.”
“It’s getting dark,” she said, pulling away. “The devil-spawn will be here soon, so I need to set up on the roof. Lock up behind me, and send up a prayer and a few battle songs.” She kissed him on the cheek, and then drew on a pair of low-light goggles. “I’ll either see you later or on the other side, Leon,” she said, and then disappeared. He bolted the door after her.
It was deathly silent in the town hall, the only noises being occasional coughs from the town’s nervous defenders and the hum of the generator powering the lights. The smell of fear was thick in the room.
Brother Hope gathered his flock, and began a prayer. “I am in the midst of lions; I am forced to dwell among ravenous beasts—men whose teeth are spears and arrows, whose tongues are sharp swords.”
The townsfolk formed a circle, held hands tightly, and watched Brother Hope’s face.
“Be exalted, O God, above the heavens. Let Your glory be over all the Earth.”
He knew they believed in him. Ever since he’d come to Trinity, the people had gravitated to him, even those who’d been too downtrodden and depressed to believe that an Almighty God watched over them. Little by little, even the faithless had come to accept him as a faithful servant of the Lord. Just weeks ago the attendees had outgrown his little kirk, and they’d had to start gathering in the town hall to accommodate everyone. The people of Trinity were like family to him now, and the Darkness had killed a lot of his family.
“They spread a net for my feet—I was bowed down in distress. They dug a pit in my path, but they have fallen into it themselves.”
A shot rang out from overhead as Brother Hope’s prayer built to a crescendo. Lizbeth. More shots followed.
“They’re here!” Lizbeth yelled down. “Lord be with us, but they’re here! Ten devil-spawn coming this way! Probably more to follow.”
“Get your weapons ready, everyone.” Hope ordered. “Shooters, take positions at the firing slots in the windows and take out as many spawn as you can. When you run out of ammo or if they break through, fall back. Then those who’re good with knives and swords take over the battle. These windows and the front door are the only entry points to worry about, so keep the creatures log-jammed here—and don’t let them get to the inner room, to our friends and families.”
Hope grabbed his own gun, and moved to an opening. He felt a song growing inside him. The Lord was with him. He began belting out a battle hymn, one written about Mole Man, the Carolina mountain-country hero. A few others mumbled the words along with him, fear keeping their voices subdued.
Above them, Lizbeth continued to fire, the sound of her rifle cracking rapidly. They could hear growling as the spawn fought over their own dead. The sound, a wet, tearing noise amidst the snarling, was chill-to-the-bones terrifying. Kol, one of the townsfolk, dropped his weapon, fell to his knees, and put his hands to his ears. “I can’t do this! I can’t do this!”
“Have faith, Kol. The Most High is with us this night,” said Brother Hope. Kol rocked back and forth.
Then came growling and scratching at the shutters. A three-fingered hand burst through a board and withdrew. Another board splintered and the hand returned, grasping for one of the humans. The spawn’s rat-like face appeared in the hole it had made. Several inside the hall screamed.
“Fire,” Brother Hope shouted. The defenders began shooting at the attacking spawn, and Hope turned back to the man cowering on the floor. “You can do this, Kol. We need you. Trinity needs you.” Hope’s voice was calm and inspiring.
“Join me, Kol. Join me in prayer.” Hope knelt next to Kol, gently pulled the terrified man’s hands away from his ears and held them. Raising his voice over the gunshots, he began reciting a familiar psalm. “The Lord is my shepherd . . .”
Kol joined in almost out of habit, “. . . I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.”
Gunshots continued, both from the roof and from within the town hall, but Brother Hope ignored them, concentrating on the man in front of him, holding Kol’s attention with his unwavering gaze.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table for me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Kol stopped rocking, looked into Brother Hope’s eyes. “Yes. Yes, Brother Hope, I can do this,” he said, pulling himself unsteadily to his knees and grabbing his rifle. He got up, returned to his assigned defensive position at the window, pointed his rifle through a firing slot, and fired—shaking, without aiming, probably not hitting anything, but a part of the town’s defense.
More devil-spawn rushed the town hall, clawing at the boards and shutters. Some ripped wood away and burst through the remaining glass. As bullets struck one creature, its corrosive blood spattered outward, hitting Lewis, a miner who was closest to the opening. He shrieked in pain, as the blood sizzled on his neck and face.
Another defender shot the creature in the head. It stumbled backward, but two more advanced to take its place. “Incoming,” Lizbeth yelled from above.
Brother Hope took steady aim and blasted one devil-spawn in the face. Another pulled itself into the room. Grady rushed it with his axe, scoring only a glancing blow to its arm. A newcomer to Trinity, Grady still had some heft to him, muscle that hadn’t yet been sapped toiling in the mines. He towered over everyone in the room. But all that meant little facing the speed and reflexes of the darkun. The other humans, still shrieking, backed against the wall, behind Brother Hope and the few who were proficient with weapons.
Another wave of spawn swarmed toward the hole. A grenade exploded in their midst—dropped from above by Lizbeth James, Hope knew.
Grady took another swing at the devil-spawn trying to get past him, but missed wildly, lost his footing, and fell. The creature jumped on him, tearing at his neck, teeth snapping for his throat. Brother Hope placed his rifle against the spawn’s head and fired. The creature toppled to the side.
“Are you hurt badly?” Brothe
r Hope asked, holding a hand out to Grady.
“More scared than hurt, I think,” Grady replied.
The kirkman scanned Grady’s bloody neck. “Doesn’t look deep,” Hope said. “Someone bandage him up.”
An explosion went off. Grenade.
Another.
Then a third.
These weren’t detonating near the town hall like Lizbeth’s grenade. They were further away, some distance down the road.
Brother Hope heard whooping and hollering. Yells of, “Watch your back! Get that one! Nice job, brother!”
“What on Earth?” He noted that Lizbeth was no longer firing from the roof, and wished he had a comm link with her to learn what was going on. Jesse and her crew had taken the last comms—she didn’t think he’d be needing them, after all.
“Keep your guns ready,” he yelled to the people manning the windows. “Not you, Kol. I want you to guard the door. I’m going to step outside to see what’s going on out there.” Kol seemed surprised to be called on, but quickly took up his position at the door, a look of resolve on his face.
Brother Hope unlocked the door, and scooted by the man.
Outside, more explosions went off. Briefly, he saw a flash—the glint of a blade? Although he had only human night vision, in the available moonlight he thought he could see limbs propelled across the street, making squishy thuds against what remained of a burned-out building. There were figures running in the distance, and beyond them fires burned.
Above him, Brother Hope heard a scrabbling sound, and he instinctively raised his rifle to shoot.
“It’s me,” a female voice called. Lizbeth lowered her body down a rope from the roof, as he pointed the rifle away from her. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Sorry.”
“What did you see? What’s going on?” Hope asked.
“Two men,” she said with joy in her voice. “Two brawny men, I should say from their outlines. And, as Jesse would say, they’ve killed a shitload of devil-spawn. They seem to be enjoying themselves, too. It’s like they’re playing with them. And they appear to be walking this way. Should we greet them or hide?”
“Take your dead and run, you dogs,” one of the men yelled. “Git. There’ll be no snacking on the fine citizens of Trinity tonight. Not on my watch.” Another grenade went off, and something went up in flames.
“Wow, the devil-spawn seem to be obeying—what’s left of them. I see them dragging a few of their fallen off,” Lizbeth said, craning to see from ground level.
“Take off the goggles.”
Lizbeth did so, and Brother Hope leaned into her. “I want to see who we’re dealing with.”
Brother Hope barked an order to those inside the hall, “Hit the outside lights.” Light spilled out from the building, illuminating the surrounding streets.
“Hey, now! A little warning next time,” a male voice barked. “Don’t blind a guy who’s trying to help.”
“Yeah, whoa there!” the other man exclaimed, shielding his eyes, and moving inhumanly fast to the corner of a still-standing wall, taking cover.
The first one seemed less concerned. He stood in the light, and scraped devil-spawn goo off his sword with a cloth hanging from his belt. It sizzled a bit as the blood burned through it. The sword didn’t seem to be affected, though sections of his arms showed acid burns.
“Who are you?” called out Brother Hope.
“Your rescuers, obviously,” the man in the center of the road replied, with a short laugh. He sheathed his blade and made a gallant bow. “I come in peace. May I approach, Trinitiean? Trinitarian? Trinite? Oh, whatever you guys call yourselves.”
“You may,” Brother Hope responded. With a hand behind his back, he motioned for Lizbeth to train her gun on the man. “My friend has you in her sights, so keep your hands up. Tell your partner there to do the same.”
“Sure. Hey, Colin. Come out, you freak.”
Both men held up their hands and approached. Their arms were bare but they seemed perfectly comfortable, though the cold wind from the mountains made Brother Hope shiver. Between that, their size, and their inhuman speed, Hope guessed they were mules. Brother Hope placed one hand on Lizbeth’s barrel, pointing it toward the ground. “There’s no real use in threatening these two. They could kill us in a heartbeat.”
“But we’re the good guys. We wouldn’t do that,” the first mule said with a broad smile. They were both tall, broad, light-skinned, blond, and handsome.
“Yeah,” the other seconded.
“Are you?” asked Brother Hope. “Are you agents of the Light?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. Let’s just say that we’re grey,” he laughed.
Brother Hope and Lizbeth stared at them.
“I’m sorry. My friends say I tend toward humor when seriousness is required,” said the first mule.
The second mule, the mirror image of the first, now that they could see him clearly, nodded. “Yeah.”
“And you can shut up.” He returned his attention to Brother Hope. “No, we aren’t with the Light, exactly, though we do fight the Darkness.”
“Again, who are you?”
“I’m Davey, and this is my brother Colin. We were sent here to help someone named Brother Leon Hope. Would you happen to know where we could find him?” he said, still holding up his hands. “Plus, may we put our hands down now? We already killed the things we came to kill.”
Brother Hope nodded and the two lowered their arms.
“So, is one of you guys Brother Hope?”
Lizbeth looked at the kirkman’s robes and then down at herself. “You’re joking, right?”
“Yeah. There’s that sense of humor again.”
“I’m Brother Hope. Who sent you?”
“Ah, Brother Hope, good to meet you,” Davey said, dropping to one knee and bowing his head. His twin mirrored his actions. “Jeep sent us.”
“Yeah, Jeep.”
Brother Hope shook his head. “A vehicle sent you?” He shot a quizzical look at Lizbeth.
“Nah. Nah. Jeep is a jenny. She and Alaska Stanhope sent us. They heard there was trouble brewing up this way, and they sent their best,” he tapped his chest, “and him,” he thumbed at his brother.
His brother scowled.
“We are yours, Brother Hope. Jeep said you have the authority to lead us where you wish, and that we should listen to your wisdom. You are our new master.”
“I am no one’s master,” Brother Hope snapped. “I do not own people. I am a servant of the Lord. Please stand up, gentlemen.”
They rose quickly.
“Jeep gave us to you. We are yours. We are to serve the servant of the Lord in his fight against the growing Darkness. Mules serve.”
“Well I’ll be,” Lizbeth said. “I never thought I’d see the day when a kirkman became a slave owner.” She burst out laughing.
“This is not funny! Let’s all go inside and talk this over. I am not your master. Let us in, Kol!” he yelled, knocking on the door.
The mules looked at each other and shrugged. They followed Brother Hope and Lizbeth into the town hall. The people inside stared as the cheerful, gore-covered warriors sauntered in. The mules lifted hands in friendly, short waves in response to the onlookers. Then they turned back to Brother Hope, as if waiting for an order.
“Everyone, this is Davey and Colin,” said Brother Hope. “They’re here to lend us a hand against the Darkness. They must’ve killed dozens of devil-spawn between them.”
“Hundreds, your lordship,” Davey interjected.
“Please see to it that they get some food and drink.”
“Oh, we aren’t hungry yet. We could go hunt some devil-spawn down, if you want us to. Blast the entrance to the hellhole. It’s not a long-term solution, but it would slow them down some, master.”
The attention of Brother Hope’s flock shifted to him on hearing the term “master.” Grady, in particular, raised his brows. “Are you planning on picking up where Lawrence Decker left off
and making us into slaves?”
“No! By no means! These men are simply confused.”
Colin nudged Davey.
“What?”
“Supplies.”
“Oh, yeah. Jeep sent a truckload of supplies, too. We abandoned it to fight the spawn, but we can go get it and unload it wherever you want it, master.”
“Stop calling me that! I am not your master.”
“Mules must serve,” Davey repeated, looking surprised. “We’re bred to serve.”
Brother Hope sighed. “We could use your help through this ordeal, but you can certainly return to your home afterwards.”
“No can do! Jeep said you’d try to get rid of us. She told me we couldn’t return to her service or Alaska’s. She won’t take us back. She told me to tell you that you are absolutely stuck with us! What Jeep says is law.”
“Then she’s obviously your master.”
“Used to be, yes. Now you are. But we can’t return. We are Trininites . . . Trinistasians . . . Trinities . . . now,” said Davey.
“Yeah,” Colin echoed and nodded.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”
“I do not know who this Jeep person is. Or this Alaska. I have no idea why they would send you to serve me.”
Davey shrugged. “I guess you’d call them freedom fighters. They live out with the nomads. They’ve been fighting the Darkness for almost three decades. We all have, since we were kids. We were trained to fight, you see. When we all escaped Colonel Suarez’s training camp, we decided to choose our own side of the battle. And you’ll be happy to know that we chose yours,” he smiled.
“If you choose sides, then it sounds as if you’re autonomous individuals, not servants,” Brother Hope replied. “If you’ll both just continue to do what you did when you got here—help us, that is—then that is all I ask. You’re free individuals otherwise.”
“As I said: Mules must serve.”