by Kip Nelson
“Do you hear that?” someone near him said. He strained his ears and, yes, he heard it, too.
In the distance was a foreboding chant, the sound of hundreds of voices in unison, blasting a song of war through the air. It was just as ominous as the low whistling of the Lost Children, perhaps even more so, for it was getting closer and closer. The words were unintelligible, which made it all the more fearsome. All they could do was wait, and try controlling the frantic beating of their hearts, knowing that with every heartbeat war came that much closer.
Grace was standing at the entrance of the church. Many people who were not in the best physical condition had gathered there to stay safe and enjoy the comfort that came from faith. Hank stood in front of them. Even these people could hear the chanting, so Hank made sure his voice was louder and commanded their attention. His words flew through the door and out into the night, reaching the ears of those around him as well.
“We have stood in this settlement and watched these people come in and take from us. We have heard how they killed Will. We know they are people who have given themselves to sin, and that is why they will lose. We all know there is a greater power, a greater light, and we will shine it on them and they will fall! I am not a man of violence, but this is a righteous cause. I know the Lord is on our side. He is with us, with all of us, and He will see us through the night. We all have made it to this day because we have survived, and we will survive to see tomorrow. Trust in the Lord, for He watches down on us, and He will act through us, using us as instruments to rid the world of a great evil. Let us pray.” Hank bowed his head and led them in a prayer before letting his congregation be with their own thoughts. He stepped down from the stage and made his way through the crowd of people toward Grace.
“Nice sermon,” she said, smiling.
“Are you going to join us in prayer?” he asked. She sighed and showed him the gun in her hand.
“I have a more important place to be,” she said.
Hank placed his hand upon her shoulder and told her the Lord was watching over her, and that she was doing right by Him. She thanked him for his words and then moved back to the front to take her place, training her gun on the barrier.
“Glad you made it,” Saul said.
“I thought about doing my nails or washing my hair, but figured I'd better make an appearance. I wouldn't want to miss out on all the fun,” she replied.
“The sooner it’s over with the better,” Saul said.
“Aren't you nervous?” Grace asked.
Saul shrugged. “Either I live or I die. And if I die, it's for a good cause, and I'm damned sure going to take out as many of those bastards as I can before I go.”
And so it was that others engaged in banter like this as well, each of them trying to alleviate the anxiety that throbbed within them. Their skin prickled and their throats were dry as the enemy marched toward them. The chanting filled the air, as loud as a beating drum. The guns weighed heavily in their hands and their fingers inched toward the triggers. They tried remembering what Mack told them about remaining calm and breathing, but now that battle was so close it was difficult. Every instinct told them to flee, but their determination to be there for each other, to defend their home, was stronger, and it gave them resolve.
Mack looked around at those he could see, proud they all were working together. His steady hands held the rifle and trained it on the source of the noise. It was getting closer and closer. Soon, the enemy would be upon them. Nervous energy rippled through the settlement as the chanting reached its apex, turning into a violent roar. Through the orange glow of the flames a line of figures appeared on the barrier, climbing over it like a swarm of insects. They scrambled and waved their guns in the air, declaring death to all who waited for them. Mack took aim, and yelled the command to fire. His was the first bullet, and it met its target, but where one body fell helplessly to the ground two more came over. Other bullets followed Mack's, and soon the air was hot and loud with gunfire.
There was no turning back.
CHAPTER TWENTY
GUNFIRE RAINED through the air and the peaceful night was broken by the angry cries of those going to war. The community held steady, firing regularly at the onrushing enemy who were pouring in great numbers over the barrier like a flood. From the buildings the sharpshooters were picking off their targets, but it was soon difficult in the shadows of the night to tell the living from the dead, for the corpses were beginning to pile up. For the initial part of the battle Mack's military training proved superior as the community managed to take out a great number of the enemy. Yet their sheer numbers were almost overwhelming. Those who survived ran past their dead comrades, spurred on by a need for vengeance. They shot back at the people in the community.
All around him Mack heard cries of anguish as bullets seared through flesh, and people fell silent. Before they knew it, the enemy had broken through the barrier and were pouring into the settlement. The sharpshooters were not able to identify their targets. So, they abandoned their posts and ran downstairs to join the fray. Once they were closer to the action they resumed firing.
It had been a long time since Mack had been on the battlefield like this, not since he was a younger man. Over the past decade he had remained behind the scenes, interrogating prisoners, but now the trials of his youth came back to him. The smells of fired guns, the sounds of bodies falling to the ground as their lives were ended, the screams of agony as people faced their worst fears and dove headlong into the fury of battle. Mack tried blotting it all out and focusing on who he was firing at. With every bullet he thought about the soldiers, and Will, and all the people who would be killed if they didn't hold off these invaders. He aimed at the center mass and fired rhythmically, making sure every shot counted. Around him he could hear the rapid wayward fire of guns and knew that some people had lost control. He tried to shout to everyone to remain focused, but he knew it would not go any good. They weren't soldiers. They were just ordinary people defending their homes and he had to let the chaos consume him.
All around him the battle was raging. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Saul, Grace, and Luis holding their positions. Freddie was near Maggie, and Mack only could wonder how much she was worried about Tristan, who had been ordered to stay in the church. Maggie was like Mack, a hardened warrior who had seen far too much violence in her time. Yet, it had forged her into a weapon and, like Mack, she kept control of her section, bellowing out orders.
Beside her was Bob, who looked like a man possessed. His eyes bulged and he raged with the determination of a man who was not going to bow to the will of anyone. Within him was encapsulated the enduring spirit of humanity, the will to survive at any cost distilled into one body. He was crouched behind an arrangement of debris with Grace and Saul, trying to remain hidden as more of the enemy poured in. The people around him, the people he had led, were not as fortunate as him, and fell victim to the gunfire. Bob, who had given everything to this settlement and pulled it forward when they were all hurting and afraid, saw the carnage and boiled with incandescent rage.
The enemy continued advancing, an unrelenting wave of savage barbarians. Bob wasn't going to stand for it any longer. He had been there every night the raids had happened, and had seen his people terrorized by these bullies. Now was his chance to get his revenge. He had been wanting to go to war for a long time. Now the war was coming to him, and he met it with glee. Standing up, he rose through the battle and picked up the gun of one who had fallen. With both hands now holding a gun he fired, roaring like a dragon as bursts of death left his hands. All around him people fell while Freddie and Maggie shouted at him to return. But Bob was caught in the middle of a frenzy. The rest of the world melted away and he only saw his existential purpose before him. The world was red. He was the instrument of death.
Mack winced as he saw the first bullet hit his torso. Bob staggered back, the pain reaching him even through his body armor, but he continued firing, continued running for
ward as a hail of bullets greeted him, slamming into his leg, forcing him to his knees, but still he kept firing until one enemy came up to him with a blade unsheathed. Bob met his eyes, ready to meet his maker, having given everything for the cause, but as the enemy drew back his knife he was forced back with two shots, one to his shoulder, and the other to his neck. He dropped the weapon and his hands curled around his neck, trying to stop the pain as he choked on his own blood.
“You are one tough, stupid son of a bitch,” Maggie said as she took hold of Bob and dragged him back behind the debris while Freddie laid down covering fire.
Mack was in the middle of it all, and continued firing. He looked around to try directing other people, but everything was a mess. Dead bodies lay strewn across the ground, the air was heavy with smoke, and when he breathed in he could taste the blood and death in the air. To his right were Grace, Luis, and Saul. They were pinned down, so Mack swung around and aimed his bullets there, trying to thin out the crowd. There didn't seem to be an end to the enemies, who still were running amok through the settlement. Mack's arm was beginning to ache from firing so much. Sweat flowed down his brow, but still he continued, determined to see an end to this. There had to be an end, he told himself.
Grace, Saul, and Luis were grateful for the fire laid down by Mack as they had been getting overwhelmed. Many of the people around them had fallen, and there were gaps in the barrier. They had been tasked with guarding the center of the settlement. Behind them lay the church and the other living areas. So, they knew if they did not hold their position then it would leave the people who were too old, or too young, or too weak to help completely defenseless. Grace, Luis, and Saul remembered how it had been at the other settlement, when Mack had led the rebellion that overthrew Saul's brother, Mr. Smith. It had been different then, for they were fighting from within. Here they had to stand their ground and defend against these savages who didn't seem to be deterred by their fellow men and women being gunned down.
“There's too many of them!” Luis said, who already was angry and scarred by what he had seen happen to Will.
“Just keep shooting!” Grace yelled, licking the sweat off her top lip as she pointed the gun into hell and continued firing.
For a long time, she had struggled about the morality of killing in this new world, but now, when her life and the lives of her friends were on the line, there was no conundrum. For a greater cause, her conscience was settled, and she knew what she was doing was righteous. She had unyielding faith in herself, and that the Lord was guiding her actions.
Beyond them lay the building in which they were holding Lily prisoner. Since Saul had taken on the responsibility of guarding her, he continually was looking to make sure there still was a guard posted. However, this time when he looked back, he saw the guard had been shot from afar, although the door behind him still was closed. Saul cursed and told the others he was going to make sure Lily didn't escape, because she only would cause havoc.
Grace and Luis nodded and began firing at a faster rate in the hope that Saul's absence wouldn't be detected. However, on Saul's way he heard a cry for help. He stopped and saw a man from the community laying on the ground, pleading for help, reaching out to Saul. Saul looked back toward the building, but knew he could not refuse this man his aid. So, he tore off some fabric of his clothing and wrapped it around the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. Moments later there was a huge explosion as a grenade landed near the building and sent chunks of dirt flying. Saul raised his arm, shielding himself and the wounded man beside him from the blast.
Luis and Grace had felt the reverberations of the explosion and heard the dirt falling to the ground, followed by a scream.
“Lily,” Grace said.
“I'll go,” Luis replied. Before Grace could argue Luis was running with his head low to the ground, feeling that if he could save someone else it might in some way make up for not being able to save Will.
Behind him, more explosions went off as the community used their own grenades to fight back, even though it was only going to cause damage to their home. But Luis wasn't focused on that. He sprinted toward the building, scrambling across the wrecked ground, dirt and debris crumbling under his feet, until he felt his hands on the door. He used all his strength to pry it open and saw that inside the room was a mess. He called out to Lily and heard another cry. Through the dust and chaos he found her hiding under the bed. Stepping over the broken table, he reached in and found her hand, and managed to lead her out. Holding her close to him he escorted her out of the building.
The grenades had managed to drive off most of the attackers. So, Grace allowed herself to turn around to see what was happening with Luis. Her face became a picture of horror as she saw something that Luis didn't. Before she could cry out a warning, Lily had reached into Luis' holster. He had placed his gun there while he had struggled to rescue Lily. She shot him without any hesitation. Luis' face was shocked, and then he fell to his knees, clutching his side.
“No!” Grace called out. Lily raised her gun to Grace and Grace raised hers in response. “I trusted you! I wanted to help you!” Grace said.
“And that's why you're going to die. Because you're weak. I don't need your pity, and I never did. This is only the beginning,” she said.
Before she could do or say anything else, Grace squeezed the trigger and shot Lily between the eyes. Lily fell to the ground, the gun falling harmlessly by her side. Grace ran to Luis and kissed him fervently, promising that everything was going to be okay.
Mack had hated using the grenades, but it was the only way he could see to drive off the enemy. There had been too much death already. He knew that unless he did something drastic, they all would be fighting to the last man, and he wasn't going to be that last man. The grenades blew chunks of dirt and concrete up in the air. Mack and the others who were left used this as an opportunity to rush forward and drive off the attackers. Finally, they saw the enemy they would not win this day, but as they left they yelled to Mack that he hadn't even met their leader. Mack was filled with emptiness as he realized that this hadn't been all of them. Although the settlement had won, their victory tasted as bitter as defeat. They had lost many people, many more were wounded, and the surrounding area looked like a bombing range, with craters marring the landscape.
IN THE HOURS after the battle it was time to count the dead and help the wounded. Bob, surprisingly, was fine as the body armor had done its job. Most everyone else was shaken and scared, but those who survived were emboldened by the experience. Hank and the others who had been protected in the church came out to help carry the wounded back into the church, which had been turned into an infirmary. Aside from Freddie, a few other people had had medical training, including Mindy, and she took the lead. Grace had been worried about Luis, but now that he had been given medical attention he was recovering. There was a gloomy mood around the settlement as the dead lay around them, not just their own dead, but those they had killed as well. There had been a great loss of life on that night, and it all seemed so worthless. Mack was left feeling bitter, and he found that he didn't want to talk to anyone. Indeed, there were not many words exchanged between anyone. Grace stayed by Luis' side. Saul helped Hank and the others carry the wounded, as did Maggie. Bob sat and nursed the wounds he had suffered with a strange look on his face, again wondering why he had survived when so many others had not.
The dawn was breaking and a new day began, but it was not a day filled with hope. Everyone was exhausted, and Tristan could sense the dark mood that pervaded the settlement. He felt guilty that he had not been able to help during the attack. So, he had volunteered to walk around the perimeter of the settlement to make sure there were no points of weakness, or someone needing help who could not be heard. The night had been harrowing for him, but he was glad the people he knew had made it through alive. There was much on his mind as he made his way around his perimeter, and then he froze as he heard his name being called in a low whisper. He t
urned around, and to his surprise, he saw Sharon emerge through a hole she had carved in the barrier.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, a dumbfounded look on his face.
“Oh, Tristan,” she said, flinging her arms around him, “I need you.” She buried her face into his neck. He hugged her back, and enjoyed the warmth of her against him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
IN THE COLD light of morning the carnage was there for all to see. Huge craters resulting from the grenades were ugly marks on the streets. The once beautiful park was littered with dead bodies from both sides. Everyone was exhausted, physically and mentally, and most were bloodied. Shell casings were scattered across the ground, and in everyone's eyes Mack could see the same thing; cynicism. They all had passed through to another side the previous night. They had been through a war. It was a look Mack knew well from his time in the army, but these people hadn't signed up for that. They just had been defending themselves, defending their community, from an enemy that seemed relentless. The opposing force only had retreated once Mack had started using grenades. Although the war had cost Will his life he was glad they had stolen the guns. Without them the outcome would have been very different. Mack’s clothes were torn and dirty, his face was haggard and worn, but he still was standing. They all were.
The morning sun still was warm as they moved into the twilight of the summer, but its golden glow wasn't the least bit comforting. It all seemed worthless. There were so many dead, so many eyes that never would spark with life again. And it wasn't just people he knew either. Enemies were lying next to his own people, no longer separated, no longer fighting, just lying there, still. The bodies of the enemies outnumbered those of his own people, but that only reminded him of what he was told at the end of the battle, that there were still more to come. He didn't think it was possible. They already had fought off hundreds. How could there have been more? When he had been in their camp he hadn't had a chance to get a headcount, but the mall was certainly big enough to house them all, and some of them could have been elsewhere, raiding another unfortunate group of people. There was a leader, too, someone guiding their actions. A vile person they must have been to cause such wanton destruction without any end result.