She knew the Covenant would slaughter most of her people, unless she could move them away before the soldiers reached them. She looked around, and though it was a ragged group of refugees, they had managed to avoid the Janissaries so far. There would be a lot of mopping up for the Covenant to do in the south and east before they entered these deep woods. She hoped that would buy them time, because her people had no way to fight back; even against a smaller unit, they would be massacred.
As she moved into line with the others again, she thought about her brother, her eyes misting over before she managed to choke the thought back down. She had to be strong, even though she had lost as much as these people had.
Having never settled down with a family of her own, she had always relied on her older brother. Conrad, the medical doctor and the author of the family, had taught her everything about the world around her. He had kept up the family tradition of writing down everything that happened, studying their history and making it known among their people. He had kept the detailed accounts, all the way back to old Robert Marsden. Their forefather had brought his family from the South more than two centuries ago, saving them in the last chaotic days just before the Fall. He’d been a lawman of some sort, but the Fall changed him, and he became obsessed with making sure everyone remembered. He was known among everyone in the North as the author of the book A History of the Old World. Everyone had read it in school, and at the end of every year, Conrad, now the trustee of the Heritage Foundation, added to its appendix, filling in the year's main events.
And now he was gone, along with most of their people. He and his family had been gathered at home in Hudson. There was no way to reach Hudson now, and she didn’t expect anyone who might have miraculously survived the impacts to survive the next phase. But she couldn’t think about that now. She was responsible for this band of French refugees and had to concentrate on them. She missed her brother, though, and the thought of her nephew and niece... She had to force her mind to focus on the here and now.
The wind blew eastward, sparing them the worst of the fallout. Still, most had been exposed to some degree, and Renee could see that almost a hundred of them had radiation sickness of some sort. She expected half of them to become too weak to keep walking within the next twenty-four hours. They still had a long way to go, but the further away from Hudson and the more populated areas to the east they got, the better chances they would have of surviving altogether. She smiled without joy, knowing that these people might be the last ones.
The French had survived the Fall, but not the wrath of the Covenant.
Dave
Sue and Dave were walking east now. Their sole focus—and hope—was to get back over the Belt into the Covenant proper again, and find some place where there were good people, English people. Their people.
“Okay, so what do we do once we’re there?” Dave asked. He realized their plan was full of holes, but however much they had discussed it, it seemed impossible to form any sort of plan that didn’t revolve around escaping their pursuers. They agreed they would have to do something, but what? Sue seemed lost in thought, so Dave tried again.
“How do we get people to know what we know? You know, that it is all a lie? That the Covenant is killing innocent people?” Sue seemed to snap out of it, and shook her head.
“No idea,” she said. “We need to reach people first, people who will listen.”
“Right... And then what? Create an uprising? Revolt against our oppressors? Do you realize how naive that sounds? Shit...” Dave exhaled heavily. Sue looked at him and said nothing. The truth was, they both knew there was very little they could do, even if they had exposed the true nature of the Moon people. The English were used to being ruled, told what to do, and obediently serving their masters. Changing that would take more than the word of two teenage fugitives.
Still, though much remained to be thought out, at least they had some kind of plan. Once they did cross back over and find safe haven, they had no idea what they would do next, but at least that beat wandering aimlessly with a price on their heads.
“Get down,” Sue suddenly said, in what was too loud to be a whisper but too quiet to be a shout. Dave hit the ground, finding cover in a low brush. Sue pointed quietly, and Dave saw them.
A patrol. He shivered, as he saw for the first time the Corpus headhunters he’d heard so much about. They all had shaven heads, with characteristic tattoos snaking across their faces and scalps, piercings everywhere. One of them wore cut-off sleeves, and Dave noticed the patterned scar covering his muscled forearms. Sue and Dave lay completely still, and Dave found he was holding his breath. Were they hunting them or just patrolling the area? No way to tell, but he assumed the worst.
A dog barked. That was bad news, but not unexpected. They had heard that the headhunters bred dogs that would tear a man’s arm off; or worse, they supposedly had fast, mean creatures trained to hunt and kill escapees. If they had one, or more, of those...
Out the corner of his eye, he saw Sue clicking off the safety on her assault rifle. He did the same with his small sidearm he’d taken from the airship pilot back when they fled the Wardens.
He held his breath again. The patrol was passing them, and, so far, hadn’t spotted them.
One of the dogs began barking fiercely. Dave realized the patrol was downwind from them. Bad luck.
“Hold on, they may not...” he whispered, but cut off. Too late. One of the headhunters barked a sharp order, and the rest of them fanned out and began approaching, guns ready. Then it all happened so quickly.
Sue aimed and fired. One shot. Two shots. Three shots.
One of the headhunters screamed and clutched his stomach.
“Go, go!” Sue screamed.
They both got up, firing as they did, and then ran away, as quickly as they could.
Chapter 2
Evan
Evan and his Janissaries were watching as a squad from the Luna Brigade approached. An all-Moon people unit, the Luna Brigade was known for being tall and athletic, the best of the best. Normally stationed at their base on the Moon, they only came down to Earth for specific missions or as part of their selection and training. Evan didn’t think he’d ever seen as many of the Luna Brigade here on Earth as he had for the last forty-eight hours.
Evan’s squad had come across a group of civilians—kids, teens, adults, and a few elderly people. One of them acted as their leader, and Evan had questioned him briefly. When the man appeared to be holding something back, Evan had reported back to HQ and asked for further orders. HQ had told him to wait, and contain the civilians for further processing. They had been waiting for half an hour now.
“Meridian Boris Alexandersen,” the first soldier said upon approach, voice cold and devoid of emotion. Evan wondered if it was drug-induced or a natural disposition. Or a bit of both. He saluted briefly.
“Head Tacticus Evan Hordvik.” He noticed the meridian froze for a micro second before assuming his relaxed stance. Everyone knew of his family, although they might not know him.
“Okay, Head Tacticus, we’ll take it from here. You are to move out and continue searching for more enemy combatants.” Evan peered at him, but the shaded visor hid the meridian’s face, and all he had to go by were clues from his body language.
“Where are you taking them?” Evan blurted. The meridian hesitated for a split second before he answered.
“None of your business, Head Tacticus.”
Evan felt his anger rising before it was countered by one of the many drugs coursing through his bloodstream. But even as his mood leveled, and his pulse slowed, he decided he would have his question answered.
“Did you hear my name? It’s Hordvik. My father is Carl Hordvik, Strategos, a member of the Luna Council. So, I’ll ask you again, nicely. Where are you taking them?” The meridian seemed to acquiesce, figuring it wasn’t worth it, and shrugged.
“We’ve set up a containment center back a few clicks. The old ones will probably be p
rocessed on the spot there, while the rest will likely be processed after we have picked out the ones with some potential, for the Corpus.
“Processed?” Evan said, though he already knew the answer and was sickened by the grin on the meridian’s face as he chuckled mirthlessly.
“Mobile processing unit. Gas, it’s the most efficient. Takes almost two hundred an hour. But it’s hard work. It’s the digging you know, we can never get it done fast enough, and the excavator broke down on us yesterday. Even if we get them to dig first, it’s not enough. So the processing team needs to take breaks all the time. We’re having a new excavator sent up, though. That’ll speed things up a bit.” The meridian spoke as if he were describing a construction process, all technical and devoid of any form of empathy. Evan had known it was dirty, mopping up after a war like this one, where they had no use for the enemy survivors, and letting them all go free could be considered a potential security threat. Still, as the size and scope of this dawned upon Evan, he still had trouble imagining it all.
Two hundred people killed every hour, and that was just a single mobile processing unit. Except for those absorbed into the Corpus, the French would be gone within days, nothing left but a footnote in human history. And the only thing slowing the process was that they couldn’t dig the mass graves fast enough.
Evan said nothing as the soldiers from the Luna Brigade took the civilians away. For processing.
Sue
They were running from the Corpus headhunters. After emptying their weapons, they had thrown them away, and now had nothing with which to protect themselves, except speed and agility. Dave and Sue had kept their distance from their pursuers so far, but the headhunters were gaining on them.
“We have to split up,” Sue said. “There’s no way for both of us to get away together.” Dave said nothing, and Sue watched him sideways, expecting him to protest. But he kept quiet, probably because he had a hard enough time just keeping up. Even after his Warden training, Sue was still in better shape, and now she could see Dave was pushing himself to the limit. He would need a break soon. She looked back, but a hilltop hid their pursuers. Still, she knew they were there, still gaining ground. She heard dogs bark, and it spurred her to push on, never slowing to catch her breath.
“I’ll try to lead them up those hills to the right,” she said. “There should be a creek or something beyond the crest, where I can confuse the dogs.”
“No!” Dave’s response was hoarse, and it was obvious he was tiring even more quickly now. It still came out forcefully enough for her to jump a little. She decided to try persuasion.
“Dave, I can do this. Trust me,” she lied, knowing he’d be against the plan, but he was too winded to protest. She pressed on.
“It’s now or never, Dave. They will catch up with us within minutes unless we do something.”
Dave finally nodded, teeth gritted in pain and exhaustion. He really needed a break. Sue slowed to a fast walk, and Dave did the same. She hugged him, and he hugged back. They both knew the likelihood of both making it through this time was extremely slim.
“If one of us gets caught, the other needs to get away. No stupid rescue attempts, okay?” Sue said. Dave nodded, and cast a look in the direction of the headhunters, who were still behind the hill. They had to do it right now, or else there might not be another chance.
“One of us has to make it,” Dave said. There was nothing more to say.
Sue turned and ran off, aiming for the hills. She knew he would be heading in the opposite direction, where the hills gave way to sparse forest. He might be able to escape that way, especially when she led the headhunters away from him.
She was going to make sure Dave stood a chance.
Renee
Renee was watching a man die. She was told he’d been a lumberjack, and up until a few days ago, he’d been among the top three log-lifters in the region. Once a popular spectator sport in the North, she suspected log-lifting had become a thing of the past. Either way, this man would never lift another log again. Most of his skin had already peeled off, and what remained was a bloody mess; he was dehydrated and feverish. His name was Jean, and while he was still conscious, he’d told Renee his story. He’d been running errands in the city all day, and it had gotten late in the evening before he finally could head home. Then, just outside the city, the steam engine of his car broke down. Being a handy fellow, Jean had pulled over to fix it. He’d had to repair it several times in the past, but in the dark, it was taking more time than it should. A couple of hours later, he finished up, got back on the road, and headed home. He’d only driven for a few minutes when the first bombs went off. The car had stopped dead in its tracks again, all electronics fried by the EMP. Jean stepped out and turned back toward where he had just been, and found himself staring at a mushroom cloud. For a while, he just stood, transfixed by the terrifying sight. Whether it had been that exposure, or the fallout he’d been exposed to while running back home, Renee had no way of knowing. But once he got back, he’d been covered in gray slate. Someone had known what to do, and told him to shower and put on clean clothes. Then he’d taken his wife and joined the others who were fleeing west.
Jean was probably the one Renee had been most certain would die from exposure, only a few hours after leaving the small town. He had fought till the end though, and even yesterday, he had spoken a few words to his wife, telling her it would be okay. That they would get to safety, that he was feeling stronger. That as soon as he got better, they would start the family they had been talking about for so long. Now, his wife sat silently off to the side, too tired to cry, staring apathetically at nothing in particular. Renee glanced over at her. She looked very pale, and her hair was falling out. She had obviously been exposed, as well, and only time would tell if she would make it through.
Renee walked away from the dying man and his wife. She needed to rest. Only then could she be strong for everybody else. She knew they had a long way to go if they were to reach Buchanan. That was really the only place to go now. She wondered how they would be received. She had always pictured Buchanan as an ally, and she had even helped agents from Buchanan infiltrate the Covenant border on more than one occasion. She had even led a rescue mission to recover one of their agents who had been captured near the border. But when the Covenant attacked, Buchanan hadn’t come to their aid. They hadn’t lifted a finger. That was a hard pill to swallow for her. Renee understood that Buchanan couldn’t join them openly; that would have been suicide. The Covenant was too strong, even if Buchanan and the French had joined forces. But they could have helped rescue people, she thought. They could have done something, anything.
But they had been all alone, and they had been slaughtered.
Sue
Sue ran as hard as she could. She realized it would be almost impossible to outrun the dogs, and she knew the headhunters specialized in hunting down fugitives. Still, she had to make an effort, and besides, if she could draw them away from Dave, it would be worth it. The hills weren’t steep, but the elevation quickly made her too tired to keep up her pace. She stopped for a quick breather and realized the headhunters were gaining on her, and the dogs were even closer. She gritted her teeth and turned away. Then she began running again, still going upward.
She realized she had reached the top of the hill she was climbing, and once she began going down the other side, she picked up speed again. She looked around. To her right, she could see a cluster of low thorn brush and changed her course. If she could reach it before the headhunters, she might make the pursuit a bit more difficult. The dogs were still a problem, but she didn’t have a choice. The opposite direction was just an open field, and straight downhill would also lead her to an open field. She had no idea where to go next, but at least she had a goal, for now.
Her mouth was parched, and she could almost taste blood. Her muscles screamed for respite, and she felt her vision narrowing. She panted, but her lungs couldn’t draw enough air, her legs wouldn’t move
quickly enough, and the world began to spin. She stumbled into the first brushes, scratched herself on the thorns, and banged her knee on a rock. There was a shot, and then another. Someone shouted, and the dogs were barking; so close now. She tried getting up, only to stumble over again. Something hit her face, and she realized she was lying face down. More shots rang out, and people close by were shouting, whooping. She couldn’t make out the words. Sue lifted her hand to touch her face, and the hand came away bloody. She heard dogs on all sides of her now, barking, growling.
“Lie still!” a voice shouted.
Someone approached and grabbed her right arm, and another grabbed her left, and they hoisted her up. Sue looked up and saw a man with the characteristic tattoos snaking across his face and shaven head standing in front of her. His face looked especially scary, with both cheeks pierced and small spikes protruding from where his eyebrows had once been. He grinned, and Sue saw his teeth were filed and sharpened. She shivered. The man hadn’t said a word so far. Now he stretched his hands out and let out a deep roar. Sue cringed and prepared for the worst. Then he began beating her, in a meticulous, routine manner. Again, again, and again.
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