by T. J. Klune
Lucas scowled at him. You’re welcome for saving your life. Again.
“Maybe now we’re even.”
Lucas grinned and showed Cavalo his teeth.
“They’re coming,” Cavalo said, looking back toward the gigantic hole in the wall. He could see the tops of the Dead Rabbits’ heads as they moved forward. “They still have to get across the trench.”
Won’t take long. But it’ll be easier this way. Lucas pointed toward the gap in the wall. Look.
“They’ll funnel,” Cavalo realized. “They’ll have to.”
Lucas nodded. We’ll only get one shot at this.
“And if it doesn’t work?”
Lucas shrugged. Either we die or we take the chance and run.
“Fuck,” Cavalo muttered. He moved from Lucas and helped Alma to her feet. She groaned and held her side. “All right?” he asked.
“Maybe. Busted a rib. I’ll be okay.” Her eyes stuttered across Deke in the snow, and her voice hardened. “Fucking Dead Rabbits,” she spat. “Goddamn them.” She moved from Cavalo to Aubrey, who sat on her knees in the falling snow, watching her brother. Alma hugged her close, whispering words Cavalo could not hear.
He turned to Hank who sat in the snow, feet away from Deke. “You hurt?” he asked quietly.
“No,” Hank said. His voice was rough and tired. “Not physically. Just some scratches.”
“We have to move, Hank. They’re almost here.”
“Can’t… can’t leave him, Cavalo. Not here.”
Cavalo sighed. “I’ll move him. But I need you to focus. Please. For Aubrey.”
Hank let out a small sob as his hands curled into fists. It was a desperate noise, a broken noise. But it was the only one Hank allowed. He stood slowly. Everything about him turned to steel as he pulled himself to full height. “They’re going to pay,” he said. “All of them.”
“They’ll come through the wall,” Cavalo said. “That’s where we need to take them. Do you understand?”
Hank nodded, his control slipping for just a moment. “And you’ll… take him? My boy. You’ll move him? I… can’t….”
“Yes.”
Hank nodded once and turned toward the people of Cottonwood who stood before him. Those in the houses looked down at him. The last line toward the rear of Cottonwood were standing, waiting for what came next.
Cavalo didn’t listen to what Hank told the rest. He was done with pretty words. He knew what was coming and just how little time they had. Even as he hooked his arms under Deke’s, he could hear the shouts and heavy breaths of the Dead Rabbits as they gathered along the trench, their frustrations at being unable to pass. It was too wide to jump, though he was sure some had tried. It wouldn’t be long before they used the debris from the houses to cover the trench. He hadn’t thought of that when plans were made. He’d figured he and the rest of the people in Cottonwood would be dead by now. It stung to think how close they’d come.
Lucas helped him then. Took Deke’s legs and lifted him. Deke’s head lolled against Cavalo’s chest, and in his secret heart, the one buried deep in a hive that grew bigger every day, Cavalo told Deke he was sorry. He tried not to think how Deke’s last words had been about Mr. Fluff. It was easier.
They laid him in a house off the way. People from Cottonwood that he didn’t recognize stared at him with wide eyes as he lowered Deke’s body to the floor. A woman with tears in her eyes came forward and handed him a blanket. He spread it out over Deke until the boy was covered. The blanket fell on his face, and blood seeped through in a slow bloom, looking like a rose. Cavalo stared at the blood flower and was filled with a great rage. He didn’t even try and stop it. He was done holding it back. If the others were scared of him because of it, then so be it. At least they’d be alive.
Lucas noticed the change in him first. He put a hand the back of Cavalo’s neck and pulled them together until their foreheads touched. The people in the house cowered in the corner. Deke’s blood roses grew beneath them. Cavalo saw the black in Lucas’s eyes. He saw himself reflected back.
“Stay with me,” Cavalo said.
By your side, Lucas agreed.
He let him go. Cavalo held out his hand toward the people in the house, and a man stepped forward, handing him a rifle.
“Cavalo!” Hank shouted.
Lucas followed him out of the house. The courtyard beyond the wall was almost empty. People had taken position farther into town, hiding in and around the houses. All the guns were pointed at the hole in the wall. The Dead Rabbits sounded even louder, snarling and screaming. There were no more explosions from the land mines. It would be any moment now.
Hank stood in the middle of the courtyard, Bad Dog at his side. He had shouldered two rifles, one on either side. In his hands was one of the few shotguns SIRS had brought down. They’d been put aside initially because they were only good for close range. Cavalo doubted they’d get any closer than this. A sleeve of shotgun shells wrapped around Hank’s chest. Cavalo wondered if the Dead Rabbits would get one look at him and run in the other direction. It’d make things easier.
“You take care of my boy?” Hank asked him, eyes flashing. His voice was a growl.
Cavalo nodded as he reached down and stroked Bad Dog’s ears once. “He’s safe. You got another one of those?” he asked, looking at the shotgun.
“Why? Gonna get your hands dirty?”
“Are you?”
“They took from me.”
“Not everything.”
“Aubrey.”
“Go,” Cavalo said, taking the shotgun from Hank’s hands. “Be by her side. You know what to do if we’re overtaken. SIRS is waiting.”
“You said we were going to die.”
Cavalo looked him in the eye. “Not all of us have to.”
“And not all of us will,” he heard another voice say from behind Hank. The big man stepped aside, and he could see Alma striding toward them, Aubrey following close. Then Frank. Bill. Richie. Others in the Patrol.
Alma handed Hank another shotgun. She took a sleeve of shells from around her neck and handed them to Cavalo. He took them reluctantly. She tried handing another to Lucas, who shook his head and took a step back. He glanced at Cavalo and shrugged, twirling his knife. You know I’m good, he said.
“He doesn’t need it,” Cavalo grunted when Alma looked at him. “Are you sure about this?”
“No,” Alma said honestly. “But what have we got to lose?”
“They killed him,” Aubrey said bitterly. “We’re sure.” Her face was lined and hard, and Cavalo wondered if she’d ever be the same again.
Hank said nothing, letting his daughter speak for the both of them. Cavalo knew it was useless to say otherwise.
“Stand firm,” he said instead. “Eyes on all sides. Listen for me. It’s the only way we’ll be—”
“They’re coming in!” someone shouted from one of the houses.
They turned. A Dead Rabbit stood at the wall, a look of surprise on his face, as if he didn’t expect to meet a line of townsfolk waiting for him. There was a brief flash of something more, something almost like fear, but then it was gone. He too was young, maybe a little older than Lucas, but there were open sores on his face. His right cheek. His forehead. The skin beneath his ears. They were crusted over but looked infected. They looked painful, but the Dead Rabbit showed none of it on his face.
It was that fear, though. That momentary fear that caused Cavalo to pause for one of the first times in his long and complicated life. It passed quickly, because it was not who Cavalo was. He reacted. That is how he’d survived this long. By reacting. And he reacted when the Dead Rabbit’s eyes skittered over them to Lucas, a look of anger and triumph coming over his face.
Whatever had come over the Dead Rabbit was gone. Whatever had come over Cavalo was gone. Even knowing he was alone, the Dead Rabbit ran toward them, a heavy-looking blade held above his head, and Cavalo didn’t think. He reacted.
The coldness fell over
him as he moved before anyone else even thought to. The killer buried deep inside rose up, his thoughts becoming staccato calculations. Don’t waste bullets. Break the arm. Elbow. Face. Knee to stomach. Break neck. The bees swirled around those thoughts, alighting upon them and rubbing their wings against them.
The Dead Rabbit only had eyes for Lucas. He didn’t see Cavalo flip the shotgun sharply, the barrels coming down to his hands. He brought the stock of the shotgun down as hard as he could onto the arm that held the knife meant for Lucas. The snap of bone cracked against the cold air. Cavalo dropped the shotgun and heard the Dead Rabbit suck in a breath to scream in pain when he spun in a circle, bringing his elbow to the Dead Rabbit’s face. He felt the bone crunch under his arm. There was a spray of blood, warm against Cavalo’s cheek. The Dead Rabbit grunted, and Cavalo took shoulders in hand and brought him down as he thrust his knee up into the Dead Rabbit’s stomach. The Dead Rabbit let out a wheeze of air and blood as he fell to his knees. “Now you should be scared,” Cavalo told him quietly. He took the Dead Rabbit’s head in his hands and snapped it to the side. Musculature tore as the cervical spine broke. The Dead Rabbit fell face-first into the snow and did not move.
Cavalo crouched down on his knees, picking up a handful of snow. He rubbed it against his face to clean the blood away. It melted against his skin. He picked the gun out of the snow and turned back toward the people behind him.
There was a mixture there of awe and fear. Healthy doses of both, as it should be. All except for Lucas, who grinned crazily at him, eyes bright and teeth bared. It was ferocious, and it was all for Cavalo. He allowed himself to be consumed by it for only a moment before he pushed it away. They were out of time.
Cavalo submerged himself into the cold, feeling the little pinpricks pulling him under. It felt like coming home. When he opened his eyes again, everything was sharp and clear. The weight of metal in his hands. The breaths he took, slow and steady. The snow falling in crystals around him. The warmth of a body to his left, a line down his side. Others, to his right, stepping forward to stand next to him. His friend, down at his legs, a low growl pouring from his throat, head down toward the ground, back raised, tail stiff. All of it felt with a perfect clarity that came from the coldness as it closed over his head.
The Dead Rabbits poured in through the hole in the wall. They funneled, just as Lucas said they would. They were frenzied now, the smell of blood on the wind turning their instincts from human to animal. The moment they pushed through, roiling and writhing over each other, gunfire erupted from all around Cavalo. He felt the bullets zing over his head, his ears clouded by the sudden burst of sound around him.
One of the Dead Rabbits, a woman with muscular arms and no teeth, got hit in the shoulder, but it did little to slow her down. She burst forward, blood trailing behind her in the snow. Her mouth was open in a wide scream that Cavalo couldn’t hear. He pulled the trigger, the kick hard against his shoulder. She flew back, arms and fingers trailing behind her. Cavalo expended the shell.
The bodies began to pile up inside the hole. It was getting harder and harder for Dead Rabbits to push through, though they tried. It was not until it was almost too late that Cavalo saw the wall began to splinter farther down, coming apart with the force of an impact on the other side. He could hear them now, repeated strikes against the wall, and knew they were starting to break through. Only a second later, he saw a flash of an eye through the wall, and then the black barrel of a gun was pushed through. He pushed Alma toward Hank, hoping it was enough to get them out of the way. He grabbed a handful of Bad Dog’s fur, and he threw himself against Lucas who was prowling at his side, waiting for any Dead Rabbit to get close enough.
Lucas tensed underneath him, his body thrumming like a live wire. They all hit the ground, and Cavalo rolled them toward the side of a house just as a hail of bullets struck the snow where they’d been standing moments before. Bad Dog yipped at him in surprise. He pressed them both against the house and glared at them until they stopped struggling in his grip. He glanced to the right and saw the others across the courtyard, against another house. There was someone lying facedown in the snow, blood pooling around them, and Cavalo couldn’t make out who it was. One of the Patrol, from the way they were dressed. Dark hair. Conner? Was that his name? Conner?
It didn’t matter now.
What mattered now was that Frank, foolish and obstinate Frank, had gotten a taste of the fire in his veins, the rush of blood in his ears. He had one of the Bakalovs in his hands, and he was loading a fat shell into the underside of the rifle. It slipped in easily, and Cavalo screamed at him, but Frank didn’t hear. There was a brief pause, a temporary break in the hail of bullets, and Frank stepped out, a determined look on his face.
“Don’t!” Cavalo roared.
Frank stuttered, his finger slipping on the trigger. The 40 mm grenade that SIRS had flashed his eyes so smugly over fired at the gun sticking through the wall. Cavalo had to hand it to Frank; his aim was true. The shell hit the wall and exploded, less fire and more concussion. The wall rippled and cracked, already weakened from the first explosion. He heard Dead Rabbits screaming on the other side, and Frank looked triumphant. The look fell when the struts and supports of the wall began to crumble, crashing down onto the pile of dead and dying Dead Rabbits. Cavalo didn’t know why he thought the wall would have lasted longer. False hopes, maybe. Or maybe he thought he was finally owed a break.
Cavalo had not lied when he’d spoken to the town previously. He fully expected to die this day. But as the wall came down, he realized how much he didn’t want it to happen. How much he’d thought they’d actually win. That something would give and the skies would open up and the sun would shine and there would be no more death. There would be no more pain. There would be no more suffering. He hadn’t known he could still hope for such things. He knew it now as the wall came down.
Even before it’d finished crumbling, even before the large section had crashed to the ground, he turned and looked up at the second-floor window of the house behind him. Two men watched him with wide eyes. And from his lips came the only word he could say, no matter how much it burned. He hoped it would be enough.
“Run!”
They didn’t hesitate. He heard the call go up back through the town. They knew what to do. They’d planned for this, however futile it’d seemed at the time. He watched as the houses began to empty, people rushing toward the northern gate. He knew the remainder of the Patrol that stood as the last line would let them through and would follow them through the back gate and lead them toward the prison.
The snowfall grew heavier. Fat flakes swirled around them.
He knew this was it. This was probably the end of his long and fucked-up life. He had many regrets. Many things he’d wished he’d never done. He had murdered people in cold blood. He had taken that which did not belong to him. He’d betrayed others. He’d hurt them. If there was such a thing as hell, Cavalo would surely descend on it once his body had been torn apart.
He laughed then. Long and loud. At the absurdity of it all. This life.
A hand on his shoulder. He looked over at Lucas and grinned. His skin felt too tight on his face. He felt lost in the bees but was certain of one thing, though he couldn’t find a way to put it into words. He turned to Lucas and thought, I regret almost everything I’ve ever done. But I will never regret you. Instead, he said, “You ready?” as the Dead Rabbits spilled into Cottonwood with a roar.
Lucas nodded.
Cavalo stood, sliding up the side of the house. Alma and Hank and the others stood with him on the opposite side of the courtyard. He felt Lucas rise behind him as he stepped out from behind the house to face what was coming.
A group of Dead Rabbits. Their faces painted. Covered in blood. Gore streaked their arms. One looked like the heavy tumor hanging from his right arm had burst, leaking dark fluids. Another’s eye was hanging by a thread on her cheek. And another was crawling toward them, hand outstretched, le
gs broken and bent at odd angles. These were the monsters, Cavalo knew.
He screamed. In fury. For all those who had died. For Deke, who he knew they would not get to bury. For his wife, who was nothing more than a tree in the middle of a haunted wood. For his son, who could slip between the veil of this world and the next. For all the others. For all the others who’d died because of the choices Cavalo had made.
He fired the shotgun, a snarl on his face.
Bad Dog howled and launched himself, teeth flashing white.
Lucas spun his knife once and arced it out away from his body. A Dead Rabbit screamed as his fingers fell into the snow.
Hank roared and smashed his heavy fists down into a man’s face, breaking nose and teeth.
Aubrey rolled as a man brought down an ancient scythe, the blade inches from her head. She grabbed an arrow out of her quiver as she stood and brought it up and through the bottom of the man’s jaw, pinning his mouth closed as the arrowhead entered his brain.
A woman grabbed Alma from behind, arms wrapping around her chest to pull her away. Another man ran forward to grab her legs. Alma kicked herself up from the ground, smashing her feet into the man’s face, lying back against the woman. The man fell. Alma rolled away and the woman lost her grip. Alma stood above both of them and pointed a pistol at the woman’s head. There was no hesitation as she fired. The man said “No,” and Alma fired again.
Bill and Richie stood back to back, firing over and over again as the Dead Rabbits descended upon them. Richie handed his dad a spare clip and kept firing.
Frank’s eyes went wide as the Dead Rabbit with the broken legs grabbed his ankle, teeth bared and ready to bite. He kicked the Dead Rabbit in the face, and the man began to convulse in the snow, arms and legs skittering, leaving trails of blood and dirt.
Gunfire went over their heads, and Cavalo jerked his head back, seeing the people trying to flee to the rear wall getting shot in the back. One fell, then two, and three and four and five and—