by SD Tanner
BD smirked. “He wasn’t big enough to be a bother.”
Deciding he was too tired to wash before he ate, he pulled off his gloves, tactical vest and shirt. Still wearing his t-shirt, he dropped the clothes to the floor. “This is as clean as I’m gonna get before I eat.”
Pax and TL copied him and they sat down while Mom brought them each a generous plate of food. Ip sat next to him watching the other women intently, clearly curious about the impromptu meeting. He had to admit, he was puzzled as well, and while they ate, Mom, Max and BD sat opposite them.
With a mouth full of food, he asked, “Well?”
Mom gave him an unhappy look. “Against my advice, Max is determined to join you in battle tomorrow.”
“You don’t need to do that. You’re a mother now and you’ve got a baby that needs ya.”
“Don’t talk to me like that, Gears. You trained me to fight, and as a mother, I will fight to give my son a future.” Leaning forward, she added angrily, “If we lose this fight, then I won’t get to be his mother anyway, ‘cos we’ll all be dead.”
Silently agreeing with her, he said nothing, and Max continued in a calmer tone, “Mac says we’ve got no choice but to fight and I believe him. I can’t sit here at the Ranch knowing everyone I love is dying, so I’ll be there tomorrow, and I don’t expect to come back. I know you guys aren’t just ordinary guys, but I don’t know if you’re Horsemen or not. Hell, I don’t even know what a Horseman is, but whatever you are, you have to promise me something.”
They silently continued to eat and watched Max expectantly. “You have to promise that you’ll keep baby Mac safe.”
Quickly glancing at one another, TL said gently, “You do realize the babies are us. They’re part of the fabric of the universe and if they die, then they’ll be reborn.”
Slamming her fist down on the table, Max stood up and said angrily, “I don’t give a fuck who you think baby Mac is. He’s my son!” Jabbing her finger at him, she shouted, “I’ve done everything you asked me to and you owe me, Gears! I’ll die tomorrow doing the job you trained me to do, but you have to promise to protect my son!”
Sounding unperturbed by her outburst, Pax remarked, “Well, you haven’t done everything we asked of ya. I mean, you did run off into the hills with Mac.”
With lightning speed, Max slammed her KA-BAR deep into the table in front of Pax, and with an enraged glare, she said furiously, “Open your smartass mouth again and next time that’ll be your head!”
Looking admonished, Pax leaned back into his chair, and crossed his arms across his chest. “She’s all yours, Gears.”
Max returned her glare to him and he said steadily, “TL’s right. The babies are us, so they can’t die. They’ll be reborn, so no harm done if they do die.”
Putting a steadying hand on Max’s arm, Mom said calmly, “That’s not the point, Gears. Baby Mac might be a Horseman to you, but he’s a son to Max and you need to accept how she feels.”
Leaning back in his own chair, he studied Max’s distressed face and realized she was the only mother left alive. He and his brothers were orphaned long ago, both his mother and Pax’s died, and TL’s mother was unable to care for herself much less him. Now the babies were all orphans except for baby Mac, and he wondered if it wasn’t so much a coincidence, but the way the universe worked. If that were true, then Max really would die tomorrow. While he looked into her eyes, he thought he saw a flicker of pain, and they both knew it was her destiny to die in the battle.
Standing up and shaking her now seemingly fragile hand, he nodded. “I promise. You have my word.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Lean on me (Survivors)
Mary (from Marine supply base)
When she’d heard they were planning a final battle at the Ranch, she swapped her apron for a tactical vest and joined the convoy. She might not have any fighting experience, but the ghost of her father hadn’t left her alone since he appeared in the kitchen at the Marine supply base. Even now, he was sitting next to her while she ate her MREs with her squad.
“You’ll be all mine tomorrow, Mary,” her father said softly. “Forever and ever.”
Scraping the last of the brown, gravy soaked mess from the packet, she mumbled quietly, “Leave me alone. I hate you.”
A middle-aged man sitting opposite her asked, “Who are you talking to, Mary?”
His name was Jim and she remembered seeing him at the Marine supply base. He’d always been polite and respectful to her, and with his dark, grey speckled hair and warm smile, he reminded her of an actor she’d liked on TV. Admiring him now, she smiled shyly and wished she’d had the nerve to ask him out.
When she didn’t answer, Jim asked gently, “Are you being bothered by a ghost?”
Nodding unhappily, she flicked her head to indicate where her father was sitting. Jim immediately stood up and pointedly sat where her father’s ghost was sitting.
Giving her a wink, Jim wiggled his butt as if to make himself more comfortable. “Let’s see how he likes my ass in his lap.”
Impressed by his lack of fear and touched by his support, she smiled warmly at him. The other five members of her squad were watching Jim dancing on his rear, and they began to laugh.
One of them was a woman in her forties with long dark hair called Alexi, and she said dryly, “Some people oughta stay in hell.”
Another man in her squad called Rick said firmly, “And that’s where we’ll send them tomorrow, but tonight they can fuck off.”
Despite their fears, she knew tonight they would all relax and enjoy being alive. Looking around at her squad, she wished she’d known them all before tonight. Taking Jim’s hand, she decided to enjoy her last night with her new hero.
***
Nathan (from the Naval base)
“Check your gear,” Tess ordered, for what he thought was the hundredth time, but they were drilled to do as they were told by the squad leader, and he dutifully unloaded his pack again.
Looking over at the tent next to theirs, he saw another squad doing exactly the same thing, and concluded it must be something the squad leaders were told to do. In his pack were the same items he’d packed less than ten minutes earlier. KA-BAR, small knife, two flares, four glow sticks, knee pads, scissors, medical kit, gloves, bandanna, flashlight, spare rounds for his Beretta M9, six magazines for his chest rig, five shotgun shells, three MRE meals, spoon, three grenades, gun cleaning kit, health bars, water, towel, socks, spare t-shirt, sunglasses, small notebook and three graphite pencils he used for drawing. After laying the items on the ground in front of him, he sighed and began to reload them into his pack.
They’d marched for two days. Deciding he was a lousy soldier, he thought he might as well be a good mule, and carried an extra twenty pounds of other people’s gear. Almost anyone who was physically able decided to join the convoy, and there were so many people they’d been forced to turn many away. Some people were so desperate to join the battle, they offered to swap places with him, but he’d proudly told them he was a combat shooter and this was his job. I might be lousy soldier, he thought, but I’m not about to abandon my squad. This is what they trained me for, and even though I’m bad at it, it’s my duty to do the best I can. It was the demons and ghosts that brought home to him the reality of how desperate their situation had become. They’d been put into an impossible situation from the start, and bit by bit, their world deteriorated until it became untenable. He agreed with their leaders, even if it cost their lives, something had to change. Ruler couldn’t be allowed to control their fate for even one more day.
While he continued to pack his gear away, Tess hunkered down next to him. “You okay?”
Looking her in the eye, he grinned. “I’m totally good.”
***
Izzie (from the Navy submarine base)
Her leg hurt, but using crutches, she slowly made her way across the Marine supply base from the hospital. Being stabbed in the left side and having her calf slashed meant she co
uldn’t walk without crutches, and it hurt like hell to use them. The base looked deserted and she supposed in a sense it was. Almost everyone had deployed four days earlier and all that was left were the elderly, injured and sick. Without radio communications, no one had any idea what was happening, and the invisible demons continued to annoy the base with their increasingly threatening behavior. So far, no one else was attacked the way she was, but she knew it was a question of time before they were. Finally reaching the parking lots around the main warehouse, she saw several thousand people were waiting, and someone had brought an old-fashioned bullhorn. Eyeing the cumbersome speaker, she assumed they were experiencing more equipment failures.
As she approached the group, Gerry ran up to her. “You were…s..s..supposed to wait…for us.”
“I’m sick of sitting around the hospital. It’s boring and I have a job to do.”
Before everyone left, TL had visited the hospital, and he seemed genuinely worried about her. Despite their failed attempt at a romantic relationship, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit she was disappointed when he chose Lydia over her. Not that any of it mattered now. Lydia was dead, and TL made it clear he didn’t expect to return from the battle. She figured, if the guys didn’t think they’d survive, then it was up to her and those left alive to take over the leadership of the bases. Gerry helped her onto a crate and she took the heavy bullhorn from him. The crowd immediately began to quieten while they waited for her to speak.
Seeing their worried faces, she cleared her throat. “We always knew it would come to this. We need our world back and Ruler must be defeated. Our brave men and women have gone to fight what looks like a hopeless battle, but we must assume they’ll come back to us.”
Hearing the dissenting tone of the crowd, she raised her hand to quieten them. “I know there’s a good chance no one will come home. I’m a realist and I understand the problem, but just as their role is to fight for us, ours is to make sure their home is ready for them when they return.” Giving the expectant faces a baleful look, she added, “We also need to keep ourselves busy or we’ll go crazy with worry, so I want us to focus on getting medical and supplies ready and cleaning the base. When our people return home, I want them to have everything they need, including a clean bed and a hot meal.”
People began to talk to one another, but she detected the mood was already shifting. Finally a man pushed his way to the front of the crowd, and he climbed onto the crate next to her. Taking the bullhorn from her hand, he said, “Izzie’s right. We need to focus on what we can do, but I’d suggest there’s one other thing we can do, and that’s to offer our prayers to the brave men and women who are fighting for our right to live in peace.”
The crowd began to applaud and then the man led them in prayer.
***
John (from the Ship)
Ever since the furniture in the cafeteria had floated to the ceiling and crashed down again, he’d been fed up. As if the shamblers weren’t bad enough, they’d evolved into hunters determined to eat them alive, and then Ruler showed up. It’s ridiculous, he thought, most of the world dies, and then the Devil turns up and makes our home his own version of hell. When everything went so horribly wrong, he was scared and gratefully joined the relative safety of the bases. He’d made a home with the other survivors, and was assigned to Gerry’s communications crew. Feeling safe on the ship, he thought it would turn out alright, but then the demons and ghosts showed up, and now he knew it was hopeless. If they didn’t deal with Ruler they’d lose everything and everyone. Where once he’d woken up every morning worried what the day would bring, now he was angry. He was always a mild-mannered man, taking the peaceful path every time, but he’d learned even his patience had its limits.
Once he’d arrived at the camp at the Ranch, he was hastily assigned to a squad, and they’d put up their tents and built a small campfire they shared with three other squads. Having lived on the ship, he didn’t know many of the people at the bases, and he didn’t remember ever speaking to anyone from these squads.
The woman sitting beside him said shyly, “My name’s Rosie.” Pointing at some of the people sharing the campfire, she said, “I’m a combat shooter and that’s my squad over there.”
He nodded brusquely. “I’m John. I’m with the ship’s communications team.”
Rosie gave him a shy sidelong look. “I know. I’ve met you before. You printed a picture for me.” Reaching into her top pocket, she pulled out a photo of a young boy. “This was my son.”
She spoke of her son in the past tense, and he took the photo of the bright-faced boy. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“At least you got me a picture of him, and I expect I’ll be seeing him again tomorrow.”
She seemed calm and happy and he asked, “Why aren’t you angry. I’m so mad right now, I can’t wait to kick some ass tomorrow even if it costs me my life.”
Grabbing his arm fiercely, she replied, “There’s something beyond being scared and angry. There’s determination, and I’m determined I will do harm to Ruler’s kind before I die.” Pulling back her hand, she said coldly, “If enough of us do that, then he won’t have anything left either.”
He liked her quiet fire, and knowing she would probably slap him, he asked, “Do you wanna share a tent tonight?”
Smiling, Rosie stood up and held her hand out to him. “Yes.”
***
Jack (from the main island)
In the end he found the decision to join the convoy a difficult one. The whole time he was assigned to the main island he wanted to work with the combat shooters, but when they were asked whether they wanted to fight or stay at the bases, he hesitated. As a trained and experienced soldier, he had no problem going to war, but he worried what would happen to the people on the island if they lost the battle. From everything he’d heard, their chances of winning were slim-to-none, which meant Ruler would invade every base including the main island. He also knew Ruler had no use for children, and they would die badly if he got to them. The islands and the ship were where the bulk of the children lived and he didn’t want to abandon them. Without realizing it, the island had become his home, and the people there his family. He thought, if he stayed on the main island, maybe he could help when Ruler came for them, but in the end logic won. If all their troops couldn’t stop Ruler, then he certainly couldn’t do it alone if he stayed on the island. He was surprised at how hard it was to leave them behind knowing he’d probably never return.
Pax and Captain Ted were happy to see him, and he was assigned a platoon for the march, and then put in charge of the battalion of reserve troops. He wasn’t entirely sure how to fight armed demons and hunters with nothing more than machetes and knives, but he figured they’d all do their best. With only one arm and one leg, he was still confident he could do some damage to any demon or hunter that dared to cross his path.
The walk to the battlefield made his leg hurt, and he rolled up his ACU pant leg, easing his prosthetic off. It was both relief and painful as the crushed nerves in his stump came to life. Still wearing the sock over his stump, he rubbed it gently and tried to soothe the angry nerves. One of the women from his battalion walked over holding a cup that was steaming in the cold air. He didn’t remember her name, but he vaguely thought it might be Philippa.
Hunkering down in front of him, she handed him the cup. “I dunno how you walked all that way.”
He nodded to thank her for the cup of what turned out to be soup. “You get used to it.”
“I guess you can get used to anything given enough time.”
“I dunno about that. I never got used to the demons.”
“You talk about yourself in the past tense.”
He hadn’t realized he’d done that. “I guess I’m not expecting to survive tomorrow.”
“Me neither.” Giving him a slow wink, she said, “Which is why I’d rather not sleep on my own tonight.”
Surprised by how forward she was being, he suppose
d they didn’t have time for the niceties, and he didn’t really want to spend the night alone either. Giving her the same slow wink, he replied, “I like the way you think.”
***
Steve (from Wolfie’s base)
Never one to speak if he could avoid it, he sat around the campfire watching people. They’d made camp five miles from the battlefield, and he was surrounded by a sea of disorganized tents of all different shapes, colors and sizes. Once they’d met up with Mike’s people from New York and Gears people from their many bases, they’d merged into a single group composed of small squads of six to eight people, platoons and battalions. There was a hierarchy of command so they could receive orders, but being part of one didn’t seem to make any difference to him and his squad.
It was cold and he could see hundreds of small campfires like their own, with people huddled around the low flames trying to stay warm. Even though there weren’t any organized kitchens, they’d distributed plenty of food and he wondered how it got there. When they arrived, he’d seen large stacks of boxed food, ammo and weapons sitting on the flat empty plain, and he figured they must have known the trucks would fail and planned ahead.
Listening to the voices around him, he noticed people weren’t jubilant, but they weren’t despondent either. It seemed everyone had reached some sort of acceptance, and exploring his own feelings, he sort of felt the same way. It had been an okay two years, and he’d neither gained nor lost anything much until his motorcycle froze and he shattered it with a single blow. Watching his much-loved Harley dissolve into thousands of glistening shards signified the end to him. It was the signal he needed to get motivated, and although he was sitting quietly watching people, he was determined tomorrow he would let his opinion be known. He’d always believed actions spoke louder than words, and he was looking forward to wielding his opinion in the form of his machete. Patting the weapon by his side, he then fumbled in his top pocket and pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes.