by Paul Kidd
“Flank them! Keep them back from the mound!” The crow saw the man in front of him suddenly pulled straight over the wall and hauled down amongst the Screamers. Samuels lunged forward and fired his shotgun down into the maw of a Screamer just as it lunged upwards. He fired along the wall and sent another monster tumbling back – but three more came leaping and hooking their claws across the battlements.
Suddenly Screamers were clambering up and over the wall. A shotgun blasted one beast back, then another – and then more monsters were somehow clawing up and over. Men drew swords or fought with rifle butts, and Screamers reared in blood crazed glee. Wounded citizens were hurtled back – a knot of monsters burst out onto the broad wall and flung themselves in a wild charge along the battlements, overrunning a dozen men. More Screamers poured up and over the cleared battlements – ten, twenty, then more and more. Samuels was bleeding from a gash along his arm, reeling as he pulled men back along the wall and tried to make them stand. A dozen Screamers were already leaping down into the town, or racing down the steps into the streets below.
“Fall back, form a firing line! Fall back, form a firing line!”
More Screamers poured down into the streets. Up on the walls, Samuels and his men were locked in a savage melee: a thin line trying to close the breech, hacking with sabres and crashing musket butts into the monsters that bit and clawed into their ranks. One of the huge behemoth Screamers lurched up and over the top of the battlements and gave numbing roar. A sweep of its claw crashed into the corner tower, shattering the beams. The huge monster scattered men aside, and then staggered as two wall guns from other towers slammed immense bullets through its chest. The monster fell dead – but the dangling corpse was a bridge that allowed half a dozen Screamers to wrench themselves up and over the wall.
There was a sudden thunder of claws and metal. Snapper and her cavalry raced from the streets and crashed into Screamers, bright sabres flashing as they slashed into the monsters. The cockatoos and war budgies screamed in challenge, snapping and biting. The cavalry plunged onwards, swords smashing downwards, ploughing through the Screamers at the base of the wall. At the head of the charge, Snapper cut her way to the base of the steps, then turned to wave her sword.
“Into them!” The shark leapt from Onan’s back, carbine in hand. She pointed to six lancers behind her, sending them down the street beside the wall.
“You men – hunt ‘em down! Everyone else – on me!” The shark rampaged forward, carbine in hand. “Bugger ammo! Kill the bastards!”
She charged, firing from the hip as she ploughed up the steps. Behind her, shotguns and revolvers barked. Screamers spun aside. Snapper crashed her gun stock into a Screamer and sent it tumbling from the stairs, then fired into the creatures behind it. A rancher beside her fired both barrels of his shotgun, then drew pistol and sword, firing as he charged. Behind then, the cavalrymen stormed forward, firing up at Screamers on the walls.
Down in the streets, lancers spurred forward on beetles and budgerigars, riding down the Screamers that had leapt down into the town. A section of dismounted men fired up at the top of the stairs. Bullets whip-cracked into concrete, blasting into Screamers and driving others back.
Snapper’s voice rose into a terrifying roar.
The shark dropped her carbine and tore her huge, curved sabre from its sheath. She lunged at the first Screamer to charge at her, slamming the blade clean through the creature’s chest. Kicking it free, she ducked as bone darts cracked into her armour. Back-swinging at another Screamer before it could fire another dart, the curved blade scything clean through the monster’s neck. She swore at the creatures, cracking her hefty tail into an onrushing beast and hacking into its neck as it fell. Shark teeth clashed as Snapper hacked and smashed her way further along the wall.
The monsters gave her space, scattering back from teeth and blade. The shark came after them, crashing the sword down into skulls, hacking through necks. The creatures stumbled back, and she fired the revolver in her off hand, blasting Screamers from the battlements.
Beside her, the huge old rancher cat hacked down a monster, then fired a twin-barrelled pistol. Toby was also there, sabre swinging. A vaquero used his lance as a pike, thrusting from behind them, driving Screamers back. Snapper’s men poured up the steps, pistols blazing, blasting Screamers back down off the wall.
More and more cavalrymen charged up the steps, snarling in anger. Screamers were cut down by big blades and hurtled back across the walls. Men flung themselves to the battlements and fired down with repeaters and revolvers, tearing into the monsters below with a storm of fire. Snapper hacked into the last Screamer on the wall then turned, braids flying, looking savagely around for more enemies. She ran to the inner edge of the wall and saw her lancers down in the alleys as they speared the last of the Screamers there. The men signalled her with raised lances. Breathless, Snapper raised her bloody sword to them, then ran back along the wall.
There were no more Screamers in the immediate area. The dense horde that had come at the one small patch of wall was gone – shot down at the abatis, or cut down by swordsmen. The rest had flowed aside, to be struck clawing through the abatis. There were still hundreds out there, but the great storm had gone. Snapper saw Samuels nearby – bloody and exhausted, but still fighting as he brought reinforcements up onto the wall. With the crisis done, Snapper ran to him. They crossed to the eastern wall, where Kitterpokkie and Throckmorton fought side by side with the townsmen.
The riverside wall of the town suddenly erupted with a huge volley of fire. Horrifying cries echoed and shuddered through the night. The south ramparts lit with fire as a great many men fired hard and fast. The rifle storm peaked quickly, deafeningly, then trailed down to a slow but constant trickle. Snapper watched, a hand held out to signal her riders who were amassing in the streets below, but no crisis seemed to come.
After a while, Beth Baker came riding from the south, a bloody cut scored beneath her eye. Toby called down to the rhino woman, yelling above the sound of fire.
“Beth! What was that?”
“They came right up out of the river! Two or three hundred of them.”
“We’re holding?”
“Took ‘em all down as they came ashore!” The rhino pointed her rifle at the shattered north-eastern tower. “How’re we doing?”
“Riders threw ‘em back. We’ve got ‘em stalled!” Old Toby’s iron leg clumped on the bloody concrete walkway. “But we’re low on ammo, Beth! Half the folks are out! We have two hundred rifles and only a hundred rounds.”
“Damn!” Beth swore and looked swiftly at the south wall. “Snapper?”
“Six pistol rounds a man – maybe six for carbines.” The shark was unworried. “Enough for another gun rush.”
The rhino turned her mount about. It was a hefty beetle-horse with a long, curving green horn – a snappish creature indeed. “I’m sending the ammo reserve for the south wall to you here! How many men do you have?”
Samuels looked along the line. “Two hundred. That gives us four rounds a man.”
“Will it do?”
“It’ll have to.”
A weird prickling still sawed at Snapper’s senses. She gathered her men and stood with Toby and Samuels. Beau came running along the eastern wall, keeping a sharp eye on the Screamers below.
Behind Beau came Kenda, carrying his long sword. Snapper nodded as the man came up to the corner of the wall.
“Kenda.” She tossed the man a canteen, noting his sword was bloodied. “You’re fine?”
“Fine.”
Kenda passed the canteen to Beau without drinking. Snapper moved along the wall with Toby and Samuels beside her, watching the Screamers gathering. There were groups further back from the abatis, out in the dark – questing, heads turning back and forth. Kitterpokkie strained upwards, suddenly alert. They all ran to her side, but the mantis had eyes only for something out in the dark. Snapper tried to see what the mantis was watching.
“Kitt?”
“They’re looking for a new objective…” Kitt watched a small pack of Screamers racing parallel to the walls. “Some of them are smarter. The others come when they call…” She suddenly pointed to one of the smaller, more deliberate Screamers. “There! There’s one!”
A low slung monster corded with twisted muscle and studded with eyes, the creature had turned away from the walls and seemed to be staring back up river. Suddenly it was moving, head high, questing – trotting faster and faster off towards the farms. Kitterpokkie fired her borrowed rifle – the bullet going far wide of the mark. She called in panic to the other riflemen along the wall.
“Stop that Screamer! The one on the road. Don’t let it get to a farm!”
Two other riflemen fired – bullets spurting dust behind the running creature. Up on the nearest tower, a gunner wrenched a long wall gun around and clashed a huge cartridge home in the breech.
“Mine!”
The gun’s long barrel settled, tracking forward carefully. The man hunched, concentrating down across his sights.
The wall gun boomed. The heavy bullet whickered through the air, crossing five hundred metres then smashing into the Screamer as it ran. The creature bowled over and crashed lifeless into the ground. Up on the wall, the gunner shook sweat from his eyes, then looked into the empty ammo bucket beside the gun.
“I’m out!”
All along the walls, rifles were firing. But more and more riflemen were out of ammunition. The Screamers were shoving forward through the snapping, cracking abatis in threes and fours – here and there a dozen surged insanely forward and tried to crash through to the wall. But the smarter Screamers were holding back out in the dark, protected by corpse mounds and shadow. They screamed and shrieked, calling others back from the abatis. Groups quested along the length of the town walls, gathering numbers as they ran.
Kitterpokkie looked to the far distant silhouettes of the block houses – the ranches with their tall, thin stone walls. Her wings buzzed behind her as she thought.
“Snapper – how many herd beasts are in those ranch forts?”
“A thousand head? Plus riding beast studs, dray beasts… Another two hundred?”
“They can go from larvae to deadly adult in a matter of hours.” The mantis flexed her hands about her rifle, quite horrified. “If they breed, they’ll come at us with all their losses replaced in a few hours time. There won’t be ammunition to stop them.” She looked to the others. “We have to change tactics. They’re scouting. They’re already looking for other options.”
Snapper saw it in an instant. She kept her eyes on the enemy and shouted for Beth.
“We have to turn this around – fast. Beth! Beth – get up here!”
Chapter 7
The impromptu high command met above the town’s east gate. Samuels and Beth Baker, both bloodied but alert. Toby, always with one eye on the fight. Beau, busily reloading his weapons. Throckmorton teetered, airborne again, but only just. Wall commanders and the saturnine Kenda gathered nearby.
Snapper, her pelisse bloodied but still hanging from one shoulder, kept her eyes on the enemy. She was alive with energy, reading the fight. She pointed to dark masses manoeuvring out beyond the search lights.
“We can’t win a siege.” The shark looked out over the battlements. “We’ve killed half of ‘em, maybe more. But sometime in the next half hour of so they’re going to notice those farms. That means they’ll build their numbers back and then some. And our rifle ammo’s almost gone.”
Beau nodded. “You have a plan?”
Snapper pointed to a questing Screamer – one of the ‘smart’ ones. It had gathered a tail of perhaps thirty others, and they were moving fast along the edge of the north abatis.
“They attack piecemeal, but they’re looking for a better way in. And they’ll find it.” The shark pointed to the eastern gate. “There’s no abatis at the gates – and the gates are wood. They can charge right in, climb straight over. They’ll find it.”
Samuels looked down at the gate and blinked.
“We have to reinforce that gate.”
“We’d better.” Snapper polished her spectacles. “Because we want them all there. We want them to concentrate every single Screamer right here against this wall.”
The others looked at Snapper .
“We turn it inside out. We defend the inside from the outside.”
The shark knelt and swiftly sketched a map in the dust and blood on the walkway.
“The river wall’s quiet – no Screamers alive there at all. So we open the river gate. I take every rider we have – that’s three hundred men. We use the trees as cover. Head out along the river, form up in the fields, then make a sabre charge.”
The shark filled in more of the map.
“Three hundred men – all six squadrons. Every trained rider we have. We file out east along the river – fast! Then form up here in the fields out of sight of the Screamers.
“I take the lead – three squadrons formed tight, two ranks. A second wave behind me.” She pointed. “Beau – that’s you.”
“Me?”
“Take station at the head of the line. Beth – I’ll need the town bugler with me.” The shark drew lines of approach. “First wave goes straight in to the densest Screamer mass. Second wave, Beau – you head behind us to charge along the length of the walls and sweep them clear. Speed is everything! But keep control! You release one squadron to pursue any survivors, but get the other two back to us here at the gate. Charge ‘em in the flank.” She stabbed at the map with the earpiece of her spectacles. “We charge and smash them against the defenders here at the gate. Hammer and anvil.”
A seething mass of Screamers were gathering in the dark. More and more were running sideways along the abatis towards the eastern wall. Snapper pointed off towards the other walls.
“Now – we want the lights to die down on the other walls. No more rockets. Keep the lights on at the eastern wall – we want them to see that gate, and start one of those massed stampedes straight into the open ground.”
Kitterpokkie circled the gate on the map. “I shall see to it. The blighters are attracted to movement. It shouldn’t be too hard to tempt them.”
Beth looked quietly at the gates.
“Toby, Samuels – can you hold this gate?”
“We’ll be going with the riders, Beth.” Toby clumped forward. “You hold the line here. Better get every gun to ‘em.”
It was decided. The group rose. Someone had found Snapper’s revolver carbine. She handed it to Beth and called to the nearest riders.
“Anyone who has a repeater, give it to the gate guards. They need it, we don’t.”
Beth was still aghast. The dark night was filled with deafening carnivorous screeches and howls. Toby and Samuels nodded to her, then went running along the line, pulling riders and ranchers away. Snapper stood and settled her pelisse into place with a flick of her hand, then buckled her helmet straight. With the others gone, Beth looked to her.
“My god! Jemima, there must be a thousand of them still out there. That’s three to one!”
The shark gave Mrs Baker a salute.
“We’re riders.”
Snapper turned, plaits flying as she ran down the steps. Her voice bellowed out across the embattled town.
“Riders! To your mounts! Form up in squadrons and follow me!”
Men raced to corrals and stables. War budgies and cockatoos gave pealing shrieks as they were ridden out into the streets. Ranchers ran from the walls and mounted up, forming into their usual troops then assembling in the main street. Snapper mounted Onan and rode along the front of the troops, counting off.
“All repeating carbines – give to the riflemen!” She saw men running from the nigh-deserted southern river wall. Cavalrymen handed repeaters and double barrelled shotguns down to the passing men, hanging ammunition pouches about their shoulders. As the riflemen passed, Snapper spurred on to the far side of the road.
Bea
u was waiting, mounted on his weird moth. Toby and Samuels were in amongst the older, veteran men – riders who had battled ferals on the plains. Kenda glowered from the ranks beside the old cat and the immense crocodile. Snapper drew her sword.
“Two files to the right. Right turn!” She signalled with her sword. “Quiet as you can!”
Riflemen opened up the heavy river gate. With the town bugler mounted on a budgerigar beside her, Snapper cantered forward. The town cavalry – three hundred women and men – turned in two files and followed after her. They thundered through the gate, leaping over tangled bodies of dead Screamers and off along the river banks beneath the trees. Dark, striped moonlit shadows flickered about them as they rode hard and fast beside the current.
The rushing river seemed to swallow up all sound of the riders as they disappeared. Suddenly the night was still – nothing moved along the river. Riflemen hastened to close the gate again and slammed home the locking beams. Standing back on the road, Beth Baker wiped the palms of her hands against her pants and stared.
The town seemed suddenly horribly empty.
From somewhere to the east, there came the sound of monsters. The woman turned and headed to the walls, as the first howling, bubbling shrieks began to close upon the eastern gates.
Up on the eastern wall, Kitterpokkie hastened back and forth. She gathered what hand flares she could find – a good ten or twelve, plus the last remaining rockets. Riflemen were clambering up onto the wall, bringing with them any heavy objects they could find: logs, stumps, rocks, even lead and pig-iron ingots from the foundry. Kitterpokkie had a team of teenagers and children ransack the general stores and armoury for an unusual list of ingredients. They came back with handcarts laden down with all manner of weird things. The mantis ran hastily along the row, heaved several sacks out into the moonlight, and chased away every single naked flame.
“Right! Sugar, charcoal, saltpetre!” She placed the most intelligent children in charge of scoops and mixing bowls. “Fifteen, five, two! Fifteen saltpetre, five of charcoal, two of sugar. Mix that carefully – quick as you can! No sparks!” Several girls and boys were putting the black powder into pots about short fuses, and tamping the powder carefully down. Still more were binding the pots with nails, rocks, scrap iron and even broken glass, using old cloth to bind the layer of shrapnel tight. “Don’t hammer it in too hard or it will explode!”