by Derek Gunn
He heard Emma’s warning and was already moving through the crowd looking for Delilah by the time the teenager had disappeared. People were streaming from the dance floor in an orderly and focused manner with only a few people looking lost. Delilah suddenly appeared beside him. To her credit she didn’t say anything when he began to tire and struggle as the crutches slipped on the wet, uneven surface but he could tell that she wanted to. Of all the nights for him to decide to go against their better judgement.
“Go,” he gasped in frustration and Delilah only hesitated a moment before nodding and disappearing into the crowd. Everyone had their assigned places in such an emergency and she couldn’t delay. He felt so helpless as he struggled towards the main entrance. Most of the people that passed him held their weapons ready and he cursed himself for leaving his behind. It kept getting tangled when it slid between the crutches. Shit, what a night. He kept moving doggedly on. Gunfire erupted close by and he forced himself not to stop and look. He was no good to anyone where he was. If only he could get inside he could help.
* * *
Emma felt her rifle slam back into her shoulder but she ignored the pain. She rolled to her left, splashing into a puddle left by the rain, and took aim again as bullets slammed into the area she had just vacated. She aimed at the muzzle flashes, and was already moving again before she knew if she had hit anything. She didn’t know how many there were; they blended in so well with the darkness and the rain. In fact, she had nearly missed them entirely and walked past them, but one of them had dislodged a small rock and the noise had sent her to the ground. She had only been saved by the fact that the music behind her had stopped suddenly when her warning had sent the community scrambling and the commotion had distracted the invaders.
Lights suddenly bloomed into life behind her and spears of light stabbed through the darkness splashing against the wasteland and broken buildings illuminating their stark desolation. A figure was caught in the glare of one of the beams and a burst of fire erupted behind her and slammed into the figure before it could move. A moment later a burst of fire erupted from in front of her and the lights shattered. She marked the flash in the darkness and sent her shots right at them, smiling when she heard a grunt of pain. She was moving again before the answering fire tore up the dirt around her vacated hollow.
* * *
“Where are they? How many? Are they vampires or thralls?” Regan spat the questions out as he approached the dugout where the shattered searchlight still fizzled as the rain ran into its shattered carcass.
“We don’t know, sir,” a voice replied in the darkness and Regan spun towards the man. “Must be thralls though, otherwise we’d already be dead.” There were four men in the dugout and the speaker was on the far right.
Regan nodded as he squinted through the rain into the darkness.
“Why aren’t you firing, Taylor?” He demanded.
“We can’t see anything, sir,” Taylor responded. “Not since they took out the lights. Besides, Emma’s out there somewhere.”
Is she now? Now isn’t that convenient? “We can’t let them into the living area,” Regan piped cringing as his voice cracked with nervousness. “No matter who’s out there,” he finished in a deeper tone. “She’ll just have to keep her head down.”
“Sir,” Taylor began, “we can’t just shoot …”
“You’ll do what you’re told,” Regan snapped. “Do you want your family torn apart because you were afraid to protect them?”
The man glared at Regan but there was enough truth in what he said to make him pause. He had two little girls himself and their safety meant everything to him. But it wasn’t right to spray fire when you had people in the same area either. By the time he had come up with a good enough argument the other men had begun to fire into the night, spreading their deadly hail across the landscape. He wasn’t certain but he thought that Regan smiled before turning and heading out towards the other dugouts.
* * *
Sandra Harrington forced her way through the crowds of rushing people. Everyone knew where they should be; it was just that the celebration had everyone out of position. Not only were they far from their normal positions but many had left their weapons in their rooms and everyone was rushing to get armed. The only way back into the dormitory area was a narrow corridor that was packed full of people trying to move in both directions. All that training reduced to nothing because they had been caught at the wrong moment. The sound of gunfire made everyone move more quickly and the general air was one of near panic.
She didn’t know who had found them or how many were involved in the attack but panic would only make everything fall apart. She had to do something. She drew her pistol and shot a single round into the air. In the cramped confines of the corridor the sound had an immediate effect and everyone stopped dead in their tracks.
“We don’t have time for this,” she shouted as people turned towards her. “Everyone already inside continue on and collect all the weapons, not just your own. Get everything you can find and hurry. Those of you still outside move directly to your positions and someone will deliver a weapon to you. Don’t worry if it’s not yours for now.” People continued to stare at her as if she had just told them the sun was pink. “Move it people,” she shouted and the first few moved to obey.
Once the pressure eased in the narrow corridor others realised the logic of the orders and they quickly moved to obey. Within minutes the traffic in the narrow corridor was moving steadily and Sandra sighed in relief. Of course, she had just sent half these people out to their posts unarmed with an attacking force of who-knew-what coming at them. Jesus, I hate command, she thought. She looked out at the horizon. “Peter Harris,” she whispered, “get your ass back here or I will hunt you down and kill you myself.”
Smiling wryly she headed back out into the rain to help with the placement of the people she had sent out to the pickets. Her pistol wasn’t much but it was better than what most of the defenders had to work with.
* * *
The bullets tore through the barriers with ease. In fairness the barrier was more a visual camouflage than a physical one, but the invaders had seen the humans arrive, backlit as they were by the lights from the dance floor. Sandra cried out in rage as she saw four men torn to pieces by the hail of fire. All four were unarmed and they jerked spasmodically each time a round hit. She emptied her clip out towards the flares in the distance. Her finger kept pulling the trigger despite the fact that the hammer kept clicking dully on an empty chamber. She fell to her knees, sobbing.
“Someone turn those fucking lights off,” a shout rose to her left and a rough hand grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her behind cover. Two shots rang out behind them and darkness enveloped them like a blanket.
“I said turn them off, Adams, not shoot the fucking things to pieces.”
Sandra slowly drew herself together and spent a moment reloading before looking at her rescuer.
“We don’t need any more senseless deaths,” the man said quietly and touched her arm in the darkness.
“I sent them out here without weapons,” Sandra whispered and ran a hand across her eyes, wiping away the rain.
“I saw,” the man said gently. “And it was the right thing to do, despite the outcome. We need bodies out here manning the defences or those bastards will overrun us before we can get ready.”
Sandra sniffed and looked at the man but couldn’t place him. He had deep set eyes that were almost hooded by bushy eyebrows. His hair was receding on the sides, coming to a point in the middle like a V. He wore it long. His face was weathered from long hours in the open, his skin scorched from heat only a far hotter climate could inflict. He looked like he was used to having his orders accepted without argument.
“I’m Phil McAteer,” he smiled and his face suddenly looked far less threatening. “I was in the last batch that was rescued before your, ah, relocation.”
She snorted at his delicate reference to their exile. �
��It was the right call, Ms Harrington.”
“Sandra,” she replied automatically and took a deep breath to pull herself together.
“I have a few men with me that will hold this area; they’re already fanning out and taking positions. We’re okay here for now.”
“Military?” she raised an eyebrow as she studied the man.
“Twenty years with the Marines for my sins.” He smiled. The men with me are from my platoon, they know what they’re doing.”
She nodded and then turned back towards the wasteland.
She scanned the darkness. There were darker pools of black that marked gutted buildings out in the landscape. Off to her left she heard the occasional heavy chatter of their MP50 emplacement and the dull thud as the heavy slugs thumped into ruined walls, scoring deep holes in anything that remained standing. From out in the darkness she heard the fainter pop of a light machinegun and the answering heavier rasp of the invaders fire.
“Who’s out there?” She turned to him urgently, her eyes wide in shock.
“I think I heard someone say Emma Logan,” McAteer replied.
“Jesus, why are they firing that big cannon then? Don’t they know?”
McAteer shot out an arm and held her back as she tried to run from cover. “Sandra,” he urged, “right now that .50 calibre is the only thing keeping that force at bay. We need time to regroup and get ready for them. Otherwise we’re all dead.”
“Emma’s only a little girl, not a soldier,” she snapped and pulled against him.
“We’re all soldiers, Sandra,” he sighed but held on tightly to her arm. “We can’t help her right now. If she keeps her head down and stops drawing attention to herself we might be able to get to her later.”
Sandra wrenched her arm away. “Drawing attention? That girl out there was the one who warned us in the first place and is risking her life to buy us the time we need. Maybe you can’t help, but I don’t leave children to fight my battles. Shame on you, Marine.” She had slipped into the darkness before McAteer could respond and he was left wondering how these people had survived till now. Didn’t they realise that emotions had no place on a battlefield?
Chapter 2
Denis Jackson hobbled towards the outer perimeter. Two XM8 assault rifles clattered against his back with each swing forward on the crutches. Bringing two weapons to the front wasn’t much but it was all he could carry and every minute counted. They still did not know who or what, or even how many, were involved in this attack. Was it because the radio blocker had been down for a week or had a patrol merely stumbled across them? They had no way of knowing.
The only thing in their favour was that, if it had been a full assault, they would already be over-run. The chances were that it was just a patrol. But how big and how well armed? A hail of bullets buzzed from the darkness and his left crutch was torn from his grasp. He fell awkwardly into the mud and one of the weapons dug painfully into his back. He felt hands grasp him and pull him towards a low wall.
“Determined to get yourself killed, aren’t you?” There was no humour in Delilah’s face.
“I brought presents,” he said weakly and offered her an assault rifle. She grabbed it but said nothing, turning instead and scanning the darkness.
“You’ll have to stay here now,” she said softly. “You make too big a target with those silver stilts of yours. Pull yourself up here and make yourself useful.”
“Is this a date, then,” he tried again to lighten the mood but her continued silence left him in no doubt that she was not amused. Suddenly the impending attack seemed less worrying than the tongue lashing he would invariably suffer later. If they survived.
* * *
Emma heard the whispering and stopped moving. She had thought the invaders were further to her left but it was hard to tell with the rain hammering down and that damn .50 calibre chattering incessantly. Jesus, they were so close. She had been trying to make her way back towards the complex but the .50 calibre was tearing through brick and rock as the defenders swept across the wasteland. It was certainly keeping the bad guys from launching an attack but it was also ripping everything to pieces around her and sending deadly ricochets and shrapnel buzzing. She had already been hit twice by small pieces of shrapnel. Both wounds hurt like hell but she dared not move to examine them. She lay with the rain soaking her back and hair and the mud seeping into her clothes. There seemed to be nowhere that was safe.
The bullets washed over her every eight seconds or so and the thunder of the heavy weapon along with the noise from the flying hail destroyed her hearing. She had only heard the whispering at all because the heavy weapon was obviously being reloaded.
“Sir, the radio isn’t working,” the voice whispered urgently and there was a faint squeal of static as if in support of the report.
Wilkins must have finally gotten the radio shield back up. Thank God. For whatever reason this patrol hadn’t reported in before they began the attack. That was the only piece of luck they’d had tonight.
“Forget it,” a voice replied. “This won’t take long. We’ve done what we needed to do here. Bravo team will have flanked the complex by now. Once they take out that fucking heavy calibre we’ll tear through these bastards easily.”
Emma felt cold fingers of dread grip her heart. She was about to move slowly away from the patrol when the .50 calibre suddenly began to chatter and bullets swept over her again, pinning her to the ground. Every time she tried to move she felt sharp needle-like stings as shrapnel pricked her skin in countless places and forced her to remain huddled in her hollow. She had to warn the others, but with the friendly fire and the threat of the patrol in front of her she was effectively out of the fight. If the flanking force took out the .50 calibre it would allow her to move but, if that happened, then it would already be too late.
* * *
Sandra fumed as she made her way over to the heavy machine gun emplacement. How could they continue to fire when one of their own was still out there? She wasn’t stupid, she knew that they needed to keep the patrol pinned down until they got organised. But Harris would have found a way to do both. They had not been gone that long but already the community seemed colder than before. Yes, it was larger and it wasn’t always possible to maintain the sense of community they had enjoyed when there had been only a few of them. But, somewhere along the way, the community had lost something. She wasn’t particularly religious, especially in light of what had happened in the world, but the only way she could describe it was that the community had lost the very essence that had made them strong. In short, it had lost its soul.
She wasn’t sure that she wanted to be a part of it anymore. That could be her grief in losing Harris and so many others, of course, but it just didn’t seem to be worth fighting for anymore. Any community that could pour heavy fire on a small girl in order to save itself wasn’t anything she wanted to be part of.
She saw something dark move out of the corner of her eye. It wasn’t movement exactly, more an absence of light. The dark around her wasn’t complete; the sliver of the moon still cast enough illumination to allow her to pick her way through the rubble when the clouds allowed. What she saw was a complete darkness to her left and she reacted while her conscious mind was still trying to figure out what might be there.
There was another movement in the darkness and her mind suddenly made the breakthrough. She shouted a warning but her voice was drowned out by the .50 calibre ahead of her. Twin spouts of flame erupted to her left in a short burst and the .50 calibre suddenly went silent. She brought up her own weapon and sent controlled bursts in the direction where she had seen the muzzle flash, but she had no idea if she hit anything. She continued to fire until the weapon clicked on an empty chamber.
Her hand dropped to her side, automatically grabbing a new magazine and ramming it home in a fluid, practised movement. She shouted a warning behind her and began to place her shots into the darkness hoping to hit something. Her night vision was ruined by
the flare of the muzzle flash but she began to move back towards the community while continuing to lay down fire. She was nearly at the main perimeter when she heard a buzzing and something slammed into her. For a moment she felt fine, just a little winded, and then the strength suddenly left her legs and she fell to the ground. She frowned, puzzled as to why she was on her knees and then the pain washed through her body. She tried to bring her weapon up again but her arms wouldn’t work. She tried to call out again but only managed a faint croak. Something else slammed into her and suddenly mud splashed her face. Where did that come from? She wondered and then the darkness pressed inwards, growing denser before enveloping her entirely.
* * *
April Cassavettes watched the activity around her in confusion. For a moment she thought she was in a dream, helplessly watching everyone pass silently around her but the pain from their constant jostling convinced her otherwise. Everyone was rushing, their faces scared, their eyes wide but they moved too quickly for her to read their lips. She could tell that there was a lot of shouting from the strain on people’s faces.
She tried to stop someone but they pulled from her grasp and hurried on leaving her like flotsam in a deluge. She was pulled along the corridor with the groups of people but the press of bodies terrified her. If she fell, no one would hear her. Would they stop anyway? There was an air of near terror surrounding the people. They were not yet a panicked mob but it would not take much to send them over the edge. She had to get away from them. She continued to be led but began to push her way to the left. The corridor split ahead, and the main route continued to the right. There was a smaller corridor that led to a covered course toward some of the sleeping quarters. If the mob continued on the main route, which made sense, then she might be able to force her way into the smaller tributary and allow them to pass.