by James Hunt
Iris rose, followed by Ben, and they both stood next to Wren. Iris placed her arm on her shoulder. “Edric has no right to what we’ve built. We’ve sacrificed too much. That’s our future he holds. And we’re not going to let him take it!” She thrust her hand into the air, and the group erupted. Fists and rifles were raised. The anger spread like an airborne pathogen, and Wren felt her blood boil.
Chapter 12
The sky lightened just before dawn, and beyond the gaping hole Ted’s people had blown in the fence, Wren and the rest of Iris’s people waited in the trees. They’d arrived an hour earlier, and with the aid of the night vision goggles Iris confiscated after last night’s attack, they didn’t find any traps set in the fence’s opening. They’d determined that the majority of Edric’s men were not on the wall. And with the forest bare of any tracks, it told them that Edric had stacked all of his chips in a concentrated effort within the community, most likely the garrison.
The fatigue that had plagued Wren the majority of the early morning had vanished. A steady alertness had replaced the weariness in her eyes, and she felt a slow and steady burn of fuel course through her veins. She looked left, and Nathan held up his hand, signaling the continued order to hold. It wasn’t until the first rays of light peeked over the horizon that they were to strike.
Wren glanced behind her and felt her pulse accelerate. The sun had nearly reached the horizon, the clear morning sky now a light pink. Her muscles tensed, and she drew in a breath as the first ray of light broke through the trees. Before she even looked to Nathan, he was already on the move. Wren sprinted into action. She kept the rifle tucked close and her eyes peeled on her way toward the gap in the fence.
Wren stopped at the fence’s edge, her shoulder rubbing up against the broken and charred logs that composed the gap’s edges. The dozens of bodies that survived the initial onslaught during the first assault hurried through the fence’s weak point, the steady thump of boots breaking the monotony of the silent morning air. Wren peered around the corner, looking, listening, waiting, and soon the thump of boots was replaced with gunshots. After the first bullet rang through the crisp morning air, all hell broke loose. Edric’s forces burst from their homes. Gunfire exchanged, screams echoing between the pop of rifles. But Wren silenced all of it, focused on locating Edric. He was all that mattered. Cut off the head, and the snake dies.
Bullets connected with earth and flesh everywhere Wren looked. She watched one of their own fall with a bullet to the head, body limp and limbs tangled awkwardly on the ground. Wren passed a house, and a woman burst through the front door wielding a rifle. Before she raised it to fire, Wren felt the recoil of two shots smack her shoulder, the bullets penetrating the woman’s chest, and she collapsed in a bloodied pile on the steps of her home. Through the scope of the rifle she examined and filtered every detail of the camp, her mind processing the heightened speed of battle. She moved with a fluidity she’d never experienced. No disconnect existed between her mind and muscles. The stakes of life and death elevated her performance.
“Wren!” Nathan pointed over her shoulder, and Wren dropped to a knee, pivoting in the same direction as Nate’s finger. A man opened fire, his aim off by less than a foot. Wren brought the shooter between her crosshairs and killed him before he squeezed off another round. When she pushed herself from the ground, she felt the whine in her body return, the protective armor of adrenaline was slowly fading.
The water well up ahead signaled the center of camp, and three of Edric’s men grouped in formation appeared from behind the side of the well’s nearest house. Wren skidded to a stop, her boots sliding in the dirt and leaves. The slip caused her to hesitate on her aim, and the enemy fired before she could. A wall of lead forced her to roll behind the stone walls of the well, her back and hips cracking from the sudden motion.
With her back against the rocks, she felt the vibrations of bullets through the stones on the opposite side. She dropped her rifle and reached for the cluster of grenades at her belt. She plucked one and pulled the pin, squeezing the lever tight. She peered over the top and saw all three shooters clustered together. She released the lever, paused, and then jumped from behind the well, aiming the grenade at their feet.
One of the assailants managed to squeeze off a round before the explosion, but Wren ducked back behind the wall, and the bullet ricocheted off the stone. She smacked hard on her stomach and felt the ground rumble after the grenade’s detonation. The explosion returned the ringing in her good ear, and the thud of gunfire dulled as she reached for the rifle in the dirt. Feet and legs hurried past, leaving behind a wake of bloodied footprints. She pushed herself up, rifle raised, and rejoined the fight.
The view was the same everywhere she looked, and through the rifle’s scope, Wren watched the carnage unfold. Bullets dropped bodies. Screams intermixed with the echo of gunfire. Blood spilled. Hearts stopped. Final breaths were drawn, and one by one the field of war grew smaller. It was hard to tell who was winning. For every one of Edric’s men that fell, so did one of theirs.
A spray of dust blew over Wren’s feet from a missed bullet aimed for her leg. Wren turned in the direction of gunfire and stared down the barrel of a rifle with Jan behind the trigger. The mess hall was the nearest building, and Wren sprinted toward it. The thump of bullets trailed her as she circled the structure, hoping to flank Jan in the rear. But when she turned the corner near the mess hall’s back doors, there was nothing but open space.
Wren lowered her weapon and took a step forward. But before she lifted her foot gunfire erupted from inside the mess hall. Wren jolted forward as the back doors splintered with a dozen bullets. Through one of the windows, Wren caught the back of Jan’s head, and she fired. Glass shattered, and Jan burst through the broken doors, tumbling to the ground, the rifle in her hands slipping from her grip.
Wren aimed for Jan’s head, but the councilwoman pulled a dagger from her belt, and with one flick of her arm, Wren was on the defense, using the rifle to deflect the blade as Jan sprinted toward her and tackled both of them to the dirt.
Arms and legs flailed wildly through the clouds of dust kicked up by the altercation. Wren felt every roll, punch, pull, and squeeze, her previous wounds clamoring for protection. Hands wrapped around Wren’s throat, and fingers choked the air from her lungs. Her vision blurred, but she could still make out the snarl etched on Jan’s face, which was accentuated by her angular cheekbones. Wren thrashed on the ground, but the harder she fought, the harder Jan’s vice locked down on her neck.
“You should have quit while you were ahead, stupid bitch!” Jan’s face reddened. Sweat dripped from her chin. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.” Her grip tightened, and black spots clustered over Wren’s vision.
Wren kicked, punched, writhed her body on the ground, bucking her hips, but nothing worked. She felt the strength in her arms subside and numb. Her arms fell lazily to the side and scraped across the dirt. A sharp point grazed her forearm, and she fumbled her fingers in the grass. The knife. Wren curled her fingers around the hilt of the blade that Jan had thrown and rammed the tip into Jan’s chest.
The blade scraped Jan’s breastbone, and she wailed, releasing her grip on Wren’s throat. Wren gasped for air, clawing at the dirt, her cheeks red and a pounding in her head as snot and spit drooled from her nose and mouth. She looked over and saw Jan pulling the blade from her chest. Blood spurted from the wound, and before the blade was completely removed, Wren punched Jan across the jaw. The hit roared a dull ache in Wren’s right hand, and a tooth flew from Jan’s mouth. Wren straddled her on the ground, shoving the knife deeper into her chest.
Jan screamed, clawing her nails and drawing blood with vicious strikes across Wren’s cheek. Blood foamed at the corners of Jan’s mouth, and the clawing ended. Jan heaved her chest up and down with her last breaths, and Wren felt the body go still.
Wren’s knuckles flashed white as she kept her grip on the blade’s handle. With dead eyes staring back
at her, she finally uncurled her fingers from the hilt and collapsed next to Jan’s dead body. She gently grazed her neck, which was tender from the dead woman’s grip.
Gunshots returned Wren’s attention to the fight, and she scooped her rifle from the dirt and left the blade lodged in Jan’s corpse. Her fingers grew sticky the longer Jan’s blood lingered on her skin. Every time she flexed her hand, they peeled off the rifle like Velcro.
“Wren!” Nathan fell in beside her, his shirt bloodied and his arm wrapped in a bandage. What wasn’t covered in blood was drenched in sweat. “We’ve pushed them back to the garrison. Edric’s there with Doug. C’mon.”
Before Nathan took off, Wren was already ahead of him. Weightlessness overtook her, and she sprinted toward Iris and Ben at one of the houses near the garrison. A line of prisoners sat with their hands tied behind their back and rifles aimed at their head. Most of them kept their faces cast toward the dirt, but the few that looked up at Wren held an expression she didn’t expect to see: relief.
The sun had risen higher into the sky now, and the light shimmered off the only concrete structure in the camp. It was a fortress, and Edric had barricaded himself and locked the door.
“His men have surrendered,” Iris said, rubbing her thigh. “But he won’t let us get close.”
“He started shooting anyone that fled the garrison,” Ben said, his thick mustache blowing under his heavy breaths. “He’s alone in there. All he has left as a hostage is Doug.”
Wren examined the building, squinting in the sunlight. The black spots from Jan’s attempted murder had yet to fully disappear. She’d studied the structure before. Only one door inside. No windows, and the only structure in the entire community with a concrete foundation. Edric had picked a hell of a spot for his last stand. Wren backtracked to the rear of the house and slithered up the opposite side, hoping for a better perspective but finding none. It only offered a better view of the dead bodies near the garrison’s locked door.
“There has to be some way to get him out.” Ben slammed his hand against the house’s wall. “Does he plan to live in there for the rest of his life?”
“No,” Wren answered, gazing at the fortified compound. “He expects to die there.” She knew Edric wasn’t one to play games. He was a purist. He only dealt in absolutes. There was win or lose, but there was never compromise. She’d learned at least that much from her time with him. “We have to give him what he wants.”
Iris scoffed. “We’re not giving up the compound. Not now. He’s beaten!”
“Me.” Wren kept her eyes on the garrison. “I’m his link to all of his failures. He thinks I’m the reason he lost control of the camp. That’s why he still has Doug.”
Iris and the others remained quiet for a long time. It was Nathan who finally spoke, breaking the silence. “Wren, he’ll kill you.”
“All he has to do is let me inside.” Wren’s hand drifted to the grenades around her waist. “He does that, I can take care of the rest.” She found herself praying that Reuben was still alive. She knew he would keep her children safe. She stepped forward, and Nathan pulled her back.
“No. Wren, you can’t do this!” Nathan’s cheeks flushed red. The sweat and blood on his shirt clung tightly to his chest and arms. “What about Zack and the girls? What about Doug?”
Wren placed a gentle hand over Nathan’s and delicately peeled his fingers off. She slowly removed the grenades from the belt until there was only one left. “Those walls are at least two feet thick of concrete. The only weak point in that structure is the door. The length of the building is one hundred feet. I drop the grenade by the door then sprint to the back. The moment you see smoke, you ride in with the cavalry.” With the one grenade still on the belt, she strapped it around her waist, hiding the belt underneath her shirt with the grenade hidden in the back.
Nathan shook his head. “You don’t have the right to do this.” He picked up one of the grenades on the ground. “You go. I go.”
“He wants me, Nate. I already told you I’m not going to let anyone else die for me.” She edged herself to the corner, and the others held Nate back. She looked to Iris, knowing full well she’d understand. “This is your chance. Don’t miss it.”
Iris nodded. “We won’t.”
Wren shut her eyes and stepped around the corner of the building slowly, her hands held high. “Edric!” Her voice cracked through the calm morning air, echoing through the compound. “Let Doug go! You do that, and you can have me!” She continued to inch forward carefully. She glanced behind her and saw Iris and the others poised behind the house. Nothing but the tips of their rifles inching around the sides.
The garrison door cracked open, but no one stepped outside. Wren froze in place, peering into the dark void that was the sliver of an opening. She felt her muscles twitch anxiously.
“You come to us!” The voice shouted through the crack in the door.
Wren tilted her head to the side. “I want to see Doug first! Show me that he’s alive!”
Nothing but deafening silence answered back for the next few minutes. Just when Wren was about to take a step back, Doug’s face was suddenly thrust through the crack in the door. Duct tape covered his mouth, and dried blotches of blood were spread over his face in crimson patches. And just as quickly as he was shown, he was pulled from view. “He goes out when you come in!”
Wren stepped over and around the fallen bodies. Their faces were frozen in the last expressions of fear, their eyes lifeless, and they stained the ground red where they fell. She looked to the door that remained cracked, her arms still raised and surprisingly still. She took one last look behind her and the sight of at least a dozen rifles aimed at her direction. She felt the stiffness of concrete under her foot as she neared the garrison’s door, and she closed her eyes one last time, whispering a prayer. Keep them safe for me. Like they were your own.
A hand snapped at her arm like a snake bite and yanked her inside. She hit the ground hard, and she heard the slam of the door shut behind her. Inside, the garrison was only a single hallway with locked doors on either side, a few of them opened with their contents spilled into the hall, crowding the already narrow space. When Wren turned to face Edric, she stared down the barrel of his rifle, and Doug was still bound by ankles and wrists in the corner by the door.
“I’m impressed you came yourself.” Edric was covered in sweat and the blood of his former subordinates. The red veins in his eyes were more prominent from the strain of battle and gave off an ominous bloody tinge. “I didn’t think you’d have it in you. But then again, you have been pretty fucking stupid.”
Wren kept her arms raised, and with her back on the ground she felt the grenade digging into her spine. She slowly moved to her knees, her eyes locked onto Edric’s. “It’s over, Edric. The fight is done.”
“It’s never done!” Edric’s voice thundered through the hall, and he jammed the barrel of his rifle against her cheek, and she felt a tooth knock loose. “I’m not dead yet. I’ll take this whole fucking place down with me if I have to!” His face reddened in his madness. “Those people don’t know what needs to be done.”
Wren slowly backed her head away from the barrel of the rifle, pushing herself to her feet, moving at a snail’s pace. “No. But you do. Don’t you?” In her peripheral she saw Doug in the corner, silently struggling to push himself up. “You’ve always known what’s needed to be done. That’s why you tried to get rid of me. Because you knew I was weak.”
Edric nodded quickly, his eyes wide like that of a child. “I did everything I was supposed to.” Tears streamed down his face, and he tightened his grip on the rifle, his arms trembling from the pressure. “Everything! But you fucked it all up. You fucking cunt! We were fine until you showed up. We were safe. I kept them safe!” Spit flew from his mouth, and the roar sent a blast of hot breath in Wren’s face.
Wren’s pulse quickened as she saw Doug push himself against the wall, straightening himself. She felt the stin
g of sweat in her eyes, and the moment Doug lunged forward, the world turned to slow motion. Edric shifted his gaze from her to Doug, and she sprinted forward, her hands reaching for the gun. And when her fingertips grazed the barrel the slow motion ended, and time shifted into a breakneck pace.
Doug could do little more than use his body weight to slam Edric against the wall, and once he hit the floor it was unlikely he’d be able to make it back up. Wren pinned the length of the rifle against Edric’s neck, using the momentum Doug had provided to loosen his grip on the weapon. She yanked it free, and before her finger reached the trigger, Edric barreled into her, slamming both of them against the wall then onto the floor.
The rifle landed out of reach from both of them, and she watched Doug scoot toward the weapon. She tried reaching for the grenade, but with Edric on top of her she couldn’t squeeze her hand underneath her back to grab the explosive.
Edric punched her cheek, the blow numbing her already swollen face, immunizing her to the next vicious hit. He grabbed her collar, lifting her up, and she saw two faces circling around in her field of vision. “You’re a dead woman.” He shoved her back down, and her head slammed against the concrete. He kicked the end of Doug’s chin and knocked him away before he could reach the rifle. Edric picked it up and tucked it under his arm. “And once I kill you and your husband, I’m going to hunt down your kids. I’m not going to rest until I’ve erased every last shred of your family from this earth.”
Wren lifted her head, rolling to her side, and brought her hands to her back, looking as though she was cradling the pain Edric had inflicted, but her hand wrapped around the lump at her waist. She looked to Doug, whose mouth bled, and the two made eye contact.