by C A Gleason
There was no time to celebrate the reunion. They were all still in danger, and it was very obvious Henry didn’t side with Frox for he had been a prisoner too. They still needed to get away from all those who instituted the Draw to stay alive, and there were also the charging Molters that would soon be all over them.
“You got out,” Frox said.
“As if I had a choice,” Henry said.
“You could have chosen not to commit murder.”
“Defending yourself isn’t murder.”
Henry must have been the one they referred to as “another prisoner” while Jonah was in the tent at Fort Perry, after Archard had been killed. Perry glanced at Jonah, and Jonah gave him a look that showed him what he would do to him with his fists whenever he got out of the cell. If he got out of the cell.
“How’d you get the best of Archard?” Frox said, glancing nervously at the men in the up-armored UV with Henry who all aimed weapons out the windows.
“Doesn’t matter now; he’s dead,” Henry said. Then he pointed at Jonah. “We’re going to let him out.”
“And if we stop you?” Frox said.
Henry’s finger pointed away from Jonah and toward the horde. “Look at what’s going on out there. It doesn’t matter how you draw them in. Not anymore. They’re coming. Nothing will stop them.”
“We’re all bait now,” Jonah said.
Even though Henry and those who broke him out had shot at the firing line, the men and women who made up the firing line had resumed shooting their weapons at the creatures through their sectors of fire undeterred. Deaths of compatriots as a result of a brief rebellion would not prevent them from keeping teeth and claws at bay. Those firers were the only reason the dispute could continue. They definitely had faith Frox would resolve things.
Frox ignored what Jonah had said, how they were all bait, even though he probably knew it was true. “Is that why you came back?” he said to Henry.
“Wanted to do what was right before we abandon this death trap,” Henry said.
Henry and the others in the UV had obviously done their best to free the other people in the cells who were still alive and normal, which they also meant to do for Jonah, even before they knew who he was or who he was to Henry. Jonah wondered how many others they’d freed. But, also, who had been in those other cells?
“We got our system, and it’s kept us alive,” Frox said.
“We had a system at Henrytown, but eventually it failed. These things adapt and change. And I’d bet they’re already getting wise to the Draw.”
Frox thumbed toward the depth of endless creatures, their monstrous frontline falling dead from machine gun fire, smaller munitions from weapons of smaller caliber, and explosive shelling from mortars and howitzers. “We’ll stick with what works.”
“It won’t last. You want to die?”
“I don’t care what a traitor thinks. You killed one of your own.”
“I was never a part of this nonsense. I was taken prisoner, remember?”
“That was only going to be for a short while. With your leadership skills? Archard kept you in the dark. Did the same to me when I was first abducted.”
Perry’s big head swung toward Frox. He obviously hadn’t known that.
“The next step would have been inclusion if you hadn’t fucked it all up,” Frox said. “You would have become one of us.”
Henry’s hard expression hardened even more. “I would die before that happened.”
Frox considered him. “There’s a reason my men haven’t opened up on you.”
From the gunner’s hatch, Henry leveled the SAR directly at him. “That right?”
“It is.”
“And why’s that?”
“We need everybody whether we like them or not. Join our ranks, and your mutiny will be pardoned.”
“Just like that, huh?”
“Just like that. Because of you, I’m in charge now. What I say goes, and if I command everyone not to lay a hand on you, they will obey me. Like I said, there’s a reason we haven’t opened up on you. I am that reason.”
The ceaseless growling and snarling and howling of the deeper ranks of Molters was getting much louder and also closer than anyone would have liked. For now, there were others holding their attention, either with weapons or because they hungered for the blood running through their veins, and they were an easier kill than the band deciding the future of the Draw.
There were obviously snipers very aware of Frox’s location. Every time a lone Molter attempted to sneak up, it was dropped with a headshot or a bullet to the body. Those still alive and loyal to Frox kept him safe, inadvertently protecting everyone around him, still indoctrinated no matter the proof of the Draw’s looming failure before them. That kept most Molters disinterested, and instead they ran for the opposite side of the field.
Except the rest of the creatures would swarm over the area within minutes no matter how many shells exploded or how accurate of marksmen any of those snipers were. The fact that the confrontation was taking place at all, especially beyond the firing line and not behind it, was extremely dangerous. Then again everyone still alive—but especially on this battlefield—was used to living among the enemy, similar to living near shark-infested waters when every now and then a swim was the most direct route to where you needed to go.
“We all need to abandon this place, Frox,” Henry said. “It’s about to be overrun. There’s too many of them.”
“We hold them back here. There’s nowhere else to go. Anybody goes anywhere else, they die, because it’s all them now. Why can’t you understand that?” Frox said. “We need everybody, and that includes you and all those traitors in that vehicle with you. All we have to do is survive until the sun comes up.”
“You don’t decide that. We’re not under your leadership or anyone else’s. Archard is dead. And too many other leaders are too. The Draw must end.”
Frox shook his head. “If we change things now, all those who gave their lives, their contributions will have been for nothing.”
Henry also shook his head. “We’re leaving.”
The radio squawked inside the UV. The vehicle had obviously belonged to Archard’s side. “They’re breaking through!”
The Molters looked to still be relatively under control in the distance, but someone thought otherwise at the firing line to communicate something like that. Gunfire continued to drop many Molters scampering downrange; the only goal of each was to get close enough to get someone down on the ground to feed on or just kill them. The men involved in the debate had no choice but to aim their weapons at the larger threat and start shooting.
Seizing the opportunity, a man in the UV opened the door and emerged with wire cutters, someone Jonah recognized . . . but he couldn’t quite place him. He put something behind the vehicle, hurried to the cell Jonah was in, clipped the zip ties off, and yanked open the mesh cage door.
That was when Jonah realized who he was. Standing before him was Salgado, the grenadier from the town Jonah didn’t know the name of, the decimated one surrounded by mountains. Salgado had been one of the soldiers Jonah had helped hunt down and eliminate a Behemoth before he headed to Henrytown.
“What’s up, brother?” Salgado said.
Jonah couldn’t believe it. First Henry, now Salgado. He wondered if other familiar faces would show up in his future. He sure hoped so. “I thought you were dead.”
“Thought the same thing for you. Come with me. A cage is no place for a Molter killer.”
It was only then that Frox and his side noticed what had just happened. They’d been too focused on the Molters and for good reason: they were nearly on them. So far, their bullets had only fired into Molter flesh, but everyone in the vicinity sensed that was about to change.
Jonah gave a defiant look to Frox and Perry as he walked past them and moved near the UV with Salgado, clearly showing which side he was on.
Without taking his aim away from the approaching creatures
, Frox yelled, “Kill them!”
The gunfire shot up the UV in bright sparks as the bullets glanced off the armor and the flashes of light combined with what was already going on down the firing line. Men ran for cover. Perry seemed intent on killing Jonah over anyone else, and before Jonah got safely behind the up-armored vehicle with the others, Perry fired at him with that German revolver of his, the gunshots sounding like cannon fire.
Jonah was already running before that happened. He leaped and did a shoulder roll behind the vehicle, bullets ricocheting off the bumper directly behind him. Jonah had never been so thankful that he’d gone on all those runs to stay in shape. It was as if he’d been training for that very moment.
Salgado handed Jonah an automatic rifle that was leaning against the bumper. He’d obviously placed it there before he’d ventured to the cell Jonah had been in. Prepared expectation. “Just like old times, my friend.”
Jonah felt a surge of strength fill him. In order to accomplish a mission, he just needed the right tools. As far as a gunfight went, an automatic rifle was priceless. There were still loyalists to Frox and the Draw as far down the firing line as Jonah could see. The ends of howitzer barrels continued to fire explosive clouds of light as bright as the sun.
As long as the weapons were active—their firers oblivious to or uninterested in the altercation close by—they could focus on the skirmish at hand and not the creatures. It was clear that no matter what was going on around them, the opposing sides meant to kill each other. It didn’t take long before gunshots rang out from both sides, adding to the giant battle surrounding them.
No one’s aim was at its best because it was hurried as the horde edged closer. All of them knew that, at any moment, the weapon used on a person might be needed for one or more of those advancing bloodthirsty creatures.
Being the type of man who refused to think of himself as a victim, especially now that he was free of the cell and armed, Jonah’s life, and the lives of those he cared about, were back in his hands. Completely up to him now that he was turned loose and held a weapon.
Using vehicles as cover, opposing sides shot at each other, guns aimed in every direction it seemed. It was as if they’d all decided to be present for the end of the world, with people on one side but turning on one another and bellowing, roaring, and howling creatures quickly closing in to finish off whoever survived.
Henry had left the SAR on standby and instead used an automatic rifle. He popped up from the gunner’s hatch to shoot and then duck down within the interior of the up-armor of the UV. He waited, picking his shots, and repeated the assault with two quick pulls of the trigger, sending out bursts of gunfire. Henry wasn’t shooting the SAR, which likely meant he was expecting to use it later. Even if they all survived the gunfight, there was a main battle going on, and it was far from over. Jonah’s side wanted to leave, and Frox’s side wanted to kill them because they were a threat. They were at an impasse, and the only solution was whoever shot the final bullet.
Frox, Perry, and their side were staying behind the pickup truck out of sight because their vehicle was not armored, and Salgado and the others on Henry’s side had opened the doors of the UV as the gunfight went on. They ducked all around the vehicle shadowed by night, its armor probably the only thing keeping them alive as bullets glanced off, ricocheted, and sparked. Neither side had killed anyone yet.
Frox’s men fired Russian assault rifles without aiming down the sights. It was only cover fire. They were hoping to hit anything that moved, and they were probably only trying to protect Frox. It was natural for those in a firefight to think being as close to cover as possible was the best way not to get shot. That was not so. It was a mistake. It actually created a bigger target, so Jonah squatted low, took a step back from the vehicle, and leaned around the tire just enough to get a sight on one of Frox’s men.
Being away from cover allowed just a slice of Jonah to be seen by the enemy, but it was more than enough to create a sector of fire. Jonah aimed at the first of Frox’s side he saw, his upper torso filling his sight picture. Jonah squeezed the trigger, sending out burst fire that hit him center mass. He fell.
That allowed Jonah to take a stunted step to his right even farther, dropping more of Frox’s guards with each pull of the trigger, closer to ending the one in charge. When Frox made the mistake of ducking into view after avoiding other bullets, he was in Jonah’s sights, so Jonah squeezed the trigger and held it.
After Frox crumpled to the ground, dead, Perry, who had been to Frox’s right and just beyond Jonah’s aim, couldn’t believe it. “You son of a bitch!”
It was obvious who he was yelling at. Perry’s voice boomed practically as loudly as the remaining howitzers that fired in the distance. The two men had hated each other upon their first meeting, so it wasn’t a surprise when the man as big as a boulder stepped out of cover and rushed Jonah. Based on the look on Perry’s face, he wanted to reduce Jonah to pieces with his fists alone.
When Jonah tried to aim the automatic rifle, Perry was already in front of him, and he grabbed the barrel and yanked it away, tossing it out of view, and then he and Jonah landed in a pile on the ground, both men punching. That wasn’t working at all for Jonah, so he did his best to push the big man off him, but then Perry started connecting with his face, each blow pounding him closer to unconsciousness.
Jonah’s vision was already blurry, and his ears rang. Something wet and warm ran down his lips. Definitely blood from his nose. Jonah slid his arms up to deflect the blows Perry was delivering, so Perry’s massive fists chose the side of Jonah’s head instead. No guns were being shot at them. The fight was allowed to go on because neither side wanted to kill their man.
“Get him, Jonah!” Henry yelled.
“Yeah,” Salgado agreed. “Get that fucker!”
“You’re next, Salgado!” Perry bellowed.
“We’ll see!”
Motivated by Henry and Salgado in his corner, Jonah arced a quick elbow that mashed Perry’s nose, causing blood to leak and his eyes to water. Capitalizing on the opportunity, Jonah grabbed him by both ears and as hard as he could, drove his head upward into Perry’s nose with a solid head butt.
Perry’s face was instantly painted with more red, and his hands flailed blindly, trying to get ahold of Jonah as Jonah scooted backward on his shoulder blades and out from under him. Perry caught hold of his jacket just as Jonah was about to be out of reach, and then Perry did what Jonah hoped he wouldn’t do; he flopped on top of him and bear hugged him.
As Jonah was being flattened by a man who seemed to be even bigger on the ground, he gradually remembered his hand-to-hand combat training, a move meant to dissuade a homicidal enemy that would be a last-ditch effort to survive. Snaking an arm upward, Jonah found Perry’s beard, then his bloody nose and cheek, and then, with all his strength, shoved a thumb into the stubborn softness of Perry’s right eye. Perry roared, and Jonah finally rolled out from under his powerful grasp.
Staying to Perry’s blind side, Jonah was able to get back on his feet and took quick steps away from the man searching with his arms flailing out. If Perry were to get ahold of Jonah again, he would no doubt crush him to death. Jonah was well in view of Frox’s remaining men when he spotted the weapon Perry had tossed away. Hoping they would miss when they shot at him, Jonah ran for it, grabbed it off the ground, raised the weapon, and pulled the trigger, spraying Perry with bullets.
The muzzle flashes lit up the darkness, exposing the shocked look on Perry’s face, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening to him, and then Henry and the others joined in on the shooting of Perry until he collapsed to the ground. The magazine of Jonah’s weapon was empty, and he flinched as he expected a hundred bullets . . . but Frox’s men didn’t shoot him.
When Jonah looked, he saw they didn’t intend to fire their weapons at him or Henry or the others because Frox and Perry—who were their leaders—were dead. Leaderless, they were individuals now.
Abrupt
ly, mortar bombs exploded all around them, taking out hundreds of Molters that were doing their best to get to them. They could have all been killed right then and there with so many munitions fired danger close, so they were all in agreement when one of Frox’s men yelled, “We need to get the hell out of here!”
Shells thumped when dropped into the mortar weapon systems, only to be launched by a predetermined trajectory in an arc to explode on their targets. They were more audible now because most of the howitzers had gone silent. The mortar bombs were flashes of light all over the hills in the distance.
Then the light from the explosions faded, and as Jonah watched, the swirling movement of Molters were coming far faster than they could be killed or fended off. The firing line and all its walls and towers and armed men and women were about to fall.
Jonah held out his hand, and Salgado instantly knew what to do; he handed him a loaded magazine. Jonah yanked the empty one out of the magazine well and put it in his cargo pocket, slapped the loaded one in, and yanked the charging handle. The men who remained didn’t have to be told what to do next; they aimed their weapons at all the creatures spilling toward them from the darkness and fired.
Muzzle flashes and the report of gunfire, flashes of light and explosions, shouting and swearing dominated the human side.
Sharp teeth and claws and bulbous eyes, snarling and growling and howling dominated the side of the Molter threat.
The Molters did not all look the same, but they sounded that way. Some had lips—the original strain—and some didn’t. The new strain that were green were all Infector bombs. Every one of them could howl. Everything about them, including how they communicated, was scary, alien, and overall revolting.
A sudden storm streaked across the landscape, and a lightning bolt shot a mountain top. For a brief moment, Jonah saw the sheer number of them there actually were; so many it was worse than all his nightmares combined because it was real. He was witnessing hundreds of thousands of the creatures on the attack. They were a tsunami of cascading death intent on destroying the walls of the firing line and with that humanity’s future.