The Lasting Hunger

by Dennis Larsen

  “Well, I’ll be…I was afraid you boys wouldn’t be coming back,” Clark said, shaking hands with the brothers.

  “You and me both,” Scotty quipped. “What’s happening here?”

  “Doesn’t look good,” Clark was quick to point out. “We’re trying to hold back a large force of Harvesters to the north. You may have gathered that,” he continued, drawing their attention to the rising smoke.

  “Who’s up there?” Niel shot back.

  “Rod’s in charge, but Cory’s got his back.”

  “Losses?” Scotty questioned.

  “More than I’d like to say. I don’t have exact numbers but they’ve hit us hard and fast. I’ve got The Normals holding down Old Main but we could use your help,” Clark said, pulling his cap away to better shield his eyes.

  “Name it, but did you see what’s coming?” Niel asked.

  “You mean the group of killers collecting around the old temple?”

  “Yes,” Niel replied.

  “Yeah, I watched ’em roll up 2nd North. I’m sure it’s Juanita Williams and her band of cutthroats. We’ve known about her for some time and Ben warned us, but we never imagined she’d have so many.”

  “Did you get a load of her armored car?” Niel questioned.

  “Yeah, looks like an old Bradley.”

  “We ran into that little darlin’ up on the northern post – cut through us like butter and we lost Derek and Slim.”

  “We’ll have to stop it; that’s for sure,” Clark said, his brow wrinkling in a half dozen familiar lines.

  The brothers recognized Clark’s oft seen look of concern, but it was Niel who spoke next. “Clark, have the others returned from the Southern Outpost yet?”

  “Nope, haven’t seen a soul but you and this lot,” Clark acknowledged.

  Niel’s gaze dropped to the ground and he sighed deeply. “I was afraid of that. We were lucky enough to take out a bunch that were sent to the west, but the others may not have fared as well.”

  Scotty followed up quickly with an important reminder. “Luck had nothing to do with it. We’re alive ’cause we had a plan and we executed it well. Simple as that.”

  “Well, regardless, I’m glad you’re back,” Clark said, obviously relieved. “Looks like you could use some ammo. Hustle up to Old Main and resupply yourselves before we get hit again.”

  “Okay, where do you want us?” Scotty asked.

  “Take those that came with you and fill the trenches on the slopes below Old Main. I’d expect them to hit us there or at least try to skirt the position. Slow ’em down and we’ll provide support from just over your heads.”

  That’s comforting, Niel thought, imagining being trapped in a no-man’s land with fire coming from both directions.

  “Alright, we’ll…” Scotty began, but was quickly cut off by the sound of a woman calling their names.

  “Clark, Niel, Scotty…I’ve got…hold up…I’ve got these for you.” Christine had emerged from around the corner of a nearby building, and was running with a small wooden crate in her arms. “Hey…hey…you’re gonna want these,” she shouted, coming to an abrupt stop.

  “Ah, you found them,” Clark said, grinning. He reached into the box and removed two HIT grenades, handing one to each of the brothers. Returning to the crate, he seized one more and fixed it on his belt.

  “Well, not exactly. I looked and couldn’t find them. Godfrey had to get them for me. That’s why I’m late,” Christine wheezed, still trying to catch her breath.

  “Better late than never,” a smiling Scotty noted. “Clark, what about these? Can they take out that…that…what did you call it…a Bradley?”

  “I surely hope so, boys. I’m praying they can.”

  “Okay guys, I’m off to find Cory. He’ll want one of these and I’ve only got a couple left,” Christine said, anxious to be on her way.

  “Watch yourself Christine, they’ve torched the northern barricade and that can only mean one thing,” Clark warned.

  “We’ll have visitors soon?” Christine jeered.

  “Exactly! So, come on now, everybody to your positions,” Clark bellowed.

  Christine took a few hurried steps, stopped and picked the two remaining grenades from the crate, and then left it lying on the ground. Freed from the burden of the awkward box, her steps doubled and she quickly vanished around a nearby corner.

  “Alright everyone, check your ammo – use your cover – and may God watch over us all,” Clark finished, before dashing back to the steps of Old Main.

  * * *

  Dr. Reynolds stood at the infirmary entrance; a solitary figure draped in a surgical apron that was splattered and gross. His morning had been busy, tending to two accidental, self-inflicted gunshot wounds and a host of minor ailments. The lack of wounded was never a good sign when the sounds of war were raging. He imagined, and rightly so, limp bodies tossed aside at the battle’s front to make room for more imminent casualties. Of the dead, he believed only God could help them now, but for the dying his heart ached to be there for them. These were his friends, his family, and he had stared into too many blank, lifeless expressions to be left unscathed.

  Behind him, he listened to Godfrey nervously try to console a woman who had removed her big toe while holstering her sidearm. The bullet had done most of the work, leaving Remy to just clean up and stop the bleeding. She’d walk with a hobbled gate, but this morning a missing toe was the least of her worries. The banter between the two carried on for a minute before the woman excused herself, thanked Reynolds, and pushed through the doorway.

  “She’s a bit frazzled, wouldn’t you say?” Whitcomb asked, coming to stand next to Remy.

  “Well, it’s not every day you accidentally remove one of your own appendages.”

  “Indeed,” Godfrey replied. “I’m surprised we’ve not more wounded. Maybe that’s a good thing.”

  “Perhaps. There’s been a lull in the shooting, but I don’t believe it’s over,” Remy said, pushing the door open to better judge the raucous turmoil. “Did you find what Christine was looking for? She seemed determined.”

  “Yes…quite. She was after the grenades I fashioned. I only wish I could have found the time to make more.”

  “Well, based on our morning, I’m glad not everyone has access to those. Who knows how many we’d be treating.”

  A moment passed with neither man speaking. They looked across The Quad’s expanse, seeing, but not really taking in the rows of headstones or The Ward members rushing to and fro. The friends cherished their relationship, both quite content to let thoughts swirl between them without uttering a sound. However, today was different…today was quite possibly their last day…and they both knew it.

  “Are you scared?” Godfrey finally asked, taking a moment to clear his throat before he was able to complete the query.

  “Always,” Remy replied.

  “True, me too…but not so much of the fighting and killing…are you afraid of dying?” Godfrey inquired, not taking his eyes from the nearest tombstone.

  “Whitcomb, I’m tired…worn out. There are days I’d welcome death just to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.”

  Godfrey smiled and nudged his weight against Remy for a second, setting him off balance. “No seriously…does it scare you? I mean what’s out there?”

  “I know…I know. I’d be a fool to say I wasn’t scared. Just listen to that chaos. There’s a bunch of bloodthirsty heathens a few blocks away that would kill us and eat our livers before lunchtime. But if you’re asking me if I’m ready to die today…under these circumstances…I’d say no.”

  “Me either. The bishop, rest his soul, used to talk of heaven. What do you think?”

  The doctor adjusted his weight and continued his fixed stare. “Oh, I don’t know Godfrey. I’d like to believe there’s more to us than dust, but I can’t say. Still, I’ve seen things in this little hospital over the years that were nothing short of miraculous. People have been healed when they
were beyond my help, and others have died from the simplest of complications. There’s no rhyme or reason to it.”

  Godfrey let the words resonate for a moment and responded; “God takes us at His bidding. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Sometimes. I believe that’s true.”

  “What will you do if they overrun us?” Godfrey inquired further.

  “I’ve tried not to think of it…just like I’ve endeavored to ignore it a hundred times before. How about you? You’ve obviously been giving it some thought.”

  “It troubles me that I may have the solution to our problem, literally tucked in my pants, and have no way to share the information with the world. Be a shame to have our work destroyed after all these years.”

  “I’d agree. If Rod and Clark initiate an escape plan…you should go. Really…you should get away and try to help others overcome this madness.”

  “Not a very gallant proposal, as I see it. I’m certainly not going to leave you here to fend for yourself while I run with my tail between my legs.”

  “Whoa…whoa…that’s not what I was implying. I think it would be of value for you to survive…you know, for the greater good.”

  “Have I told you lately how tired I am of hearing that phrase…the greater good? It’s a…a…what’s the American term? Oh, ‘cop out’.”

  Hearing Godfrey use the slang brought a quick smile to Remy’s face, but it did not last. “Well, I still think you should consider it.”

  “And I think…” Godfrey began, but was silenced when the doctor grabbed his arm and pulled him through the doorway.

  “That’s Holly. Oh my, what’s happened?” Remy shouted.

  The next five minutes passed in a blur of heartfelt cries, muffled prayers, and determined actions. Jeff carried Dude into the hospital and at the behest of a shaking Godfrey, laid his friend on a clean, metal gurney. Reynolds busied himself at a washbasin, scrubbing his hands while shouting orders over his shoulder.

  “Godfrey, strip him down. I’ll need better access.”

  “Right you are,” he yelled, in reply.

  “What can I do? What can I do?” Holly shrieked, while circling the table.

  “Nothing at the moment. Jeff, what happened?” Remy asked.

  “We were on our way back from the barricade and a sniper got him. We think the bullet passed through – there was a lot of blood, Doc.”

  “Okay, you’ve done what you could. Leave him with us. We’ll take good care of him.”

  Jeff leaned over the gurney and was surprised to see Dude’s eyes open and his lips moving. “Hey, he’s awake…he’s trying to talk.”

  “Come on, Jeff. He needs to conserve his strength. We’ll come for you when we’ve got him patched up.”

  “But Remy…will he make it? He’s my…”

  “I know, Jeff. If he’s as wiry as Cory says – he’ll survive,” Remy noted, assuring the boy’s friends.

  “Okay, we’ll be back. Come on, Holly, let’s check with Clark and find my mom.”

  Chapter 52

  The frown on Juanita’s face was evidence alone that her day had not gone as planned. The Harvesters had spoiled the element of surprise, her Bradley was low on ammo, and to the west all was quiet. Pete had already returned, striking a grim prediction of Kim’s status, which was further confirmed when a truck raced by, headed for The Ward’s stronghold.

  Pete was pleased with the job he’d done, destroying the southern outpost; yet Juanita was less than thrilled at the cost in lives and ammunition. The two talked of their next move, paying close attention to the rise and fall of gunfire only a few blocks away. Their conversation had taken them from the Temple’s entrance, to the parking lot, and back. Williams’ followers anxiously talked amongst themselves; some prepped their weapons, while others mocked the edifice that towered over them.

  Before long, and with little encouragement, rocks were thrown through what remained of stained-glass windows, as bigoted, verbal taunts accompanied the mindless assault. The actions, carried out by more than a few of her followers, ignited something primal within the woman and she lashed out.

  “Have you no shame?” she yelled.

  Standing like a schoolmarm at the front of an undisciplined classroom full of bullies, Williams scolded and chided them all. The destruction of property her family once held dear had touched a nerve and she would not be easily consoled. Such was the nature of a woman set on a future of power and wealth but still rooted in traditions of the past.

  As expected, her soldiers, both male and female, stared on, perplexed by the sudden outburst. Were they not on their way to slaughter, maim, and likely consume the people who had relished in this Temple of God?

  “I will have your respect,” she demanded, her eyes flickering with rage. “By all that I know and believe, we are destined to be the future. You…me…all of us…together. But,” she wailed, “we will not destroy the past. The buildings, monuments, bones, and blood, will remain as a reminder of where we came from and what we’ve overcome. The Ward stands in our way…not this temple. Muster yourselves, your anger, and all your energies for one purpose, and one purpose only…to destroy The Ward.”

  A few whoops and hollers escaped the crowd as Juanita continued to rile up her troops. “I will not be denied! Do you hear me? Lives have been lost this day…and they will not be in vain. Blood has been spilt…but it will not go unavenged. Normals have mocked us…but they will soon be under our knives. This group here,” she said, pointing to encompass half of her whipped up warriors. “You come with me, we’ll be following the Bradley to take Old Main. The rest of you join Pete to flank their position from the south. Some of you will die – of that there is little doubt – but let it be known it was for the greater good.”

  As the words escaped her lips, she couldn’t help but smile, having gotten more mileage from the oft spoken phrase than she could remember. Truly it would be for her greater good, and she would thank them for their sacrifice with a smirk and nod, as she traversed the battlefield and stepped on their cooling corpses.

  “Rally to my…our cause,” she hollered, before issuing a few last-minute orders to her lieutenants. A sudden riotous escalation, from what she assumed to be Finn’s position, brought a grin to her lips and with a wave of her hand they were off. In a matter of minutes, the Lord willing or not, The Ward would be theirs.

  * * *

  On the other side of Old Main, opposite to where Niel and Scotty were making their stand, Jeff and Holly frantically looked for Allison. Finding her amidst their friends and the new arrivals, they quickly shared all they’d seen and the devastating news of Dude’s injury.

  “Have you told his mom?” Allison pressed.

  “No. We just delivered him to Dr. Reynolds and came right here,” Jeff touted.

  “Alright, fine. I’ll get to her. Have you seen your father?”

  “Yeah, he and Cory are trying to hold them at the north wall, but they’ve already had to burn the main barricade.”

  Allison shook her head in dismay, “I gathered that. How many are we fighting up there?”

  “Too many…maybe 100 or more. I can’t be sure. Did you hear about Clayton?” he stammered, the words being choked by his emotions.

  “Sadly, yes. We can’t think of that now. I need your help,” Allison said, her thoughts suddenly turning to The Normals and their survival. “Holly, help Brandi and her mom. They’re in the last room on the left. Boob, climb up to the bell tower and fill Clark in on what you know.”

  “Sure,” they responded.

  “Jeff, when he’s done with you get back down here and help strengthen this side of Old Main. If what you’ve said is accurate, your dad, Cory, and a wall of Harvesters are going to come running across The Quad at any minute. We must…” she began, her voice cracking. “We must be prepared. They can’t get to this building or we’re doomed.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right back,” Jeff said, hugging Allison and Holly tightly before bolting away.
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  Less than a minute later, Jeff announced his arrival at Old Main’s pinnacle with a pair of firm raps on the entrance door. “Clark, it’s Jeff,” he shouted.

  “Let him in,” Clark said to a male sniper, who had taken Kirk’s place after he had fallen under the traitor’s knife.

  Entering the small turret, Jeff was instantly reminded of the phenomenal view afforded those stationed there. “Wow, you really can see everything from up here,” he said, for a moment being taken aback by the beauty of the valley.

  “Sure enough. Looks like you made it back from the barricade. How’s your dad doing?” Clark asked, not taking his eyes from a large set of binoculars, which appeared welded to his face.

  “They’re doing their best to hold them back, but he thinks it’s futile. There’s just too many of them,” Jeff reported.

  “That’s the same thing Holly said. Sorry about Clayton, I know you were close.”

  “Thanks, and Dude got hit too.”

  “What? I hadn’t heard. Is he alive?” Clark inquired, again while remaining fixed on something that was holding his interest.

  “Yeah…at least for now. The doctor and Whitcomb are looking after him.”

  “Well Jeff, he’s a tough little guy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he outlived us all.”

  “I hope so.”

  Jeff leaned over the bell tower’s lip and looked down on the people that were hunkered in the trench below. They were motionless and appeared smaller than he knew them to be. “Looks like you’re ready over here, but what are you looking at? I thought our fight was with the Harvesters?”

  “And them,” Clark said, handing the binoculars to Jeff. “That’s Juanita Williams and her following; the Harvesters are only a portion of her crew. This bunch has been racing all over the city today, taking out checkpoints and killing our members. Niel and Scotty…did you see them below?” Jeff nodded his head but did not reply vocally. “Well, they met up with them a couple of times and slowed them down, but it looks like they’re ready to finish us off.”