by Ely Page
“I love you. Be careful out there. I won’t let you leave me again,” Leah spoke softly, intimately, barely holding herself together.
“I couldn’t live with myself if I left you again,” Morgan said, looking straight into her eyes.
“Very funny, Morgan. Now tell me you love me and that you will come back alive.”
Morgan put Leah’s chin in his hand. “I love you and I will come back.” He gave her a quick kiss and then his friend Hank grabbed him by the shoulder.
“C’mon, man, you two can be cute later. We got some wicked, ugly things to send back to Hell right now.”
As he was being dragged away from Leah, Morgan blew her one last kiss. Leah’s vision blurred from her watery eyes.
“Leah, come help me set up triage.” Hanna snapped Leah out of her emotional meltdown and got her back to the business at hand.
Dylan walked over to Frank’s grave. He knelt down on one knee. “This is for you, Frank. You may have been a man of peace, but you were also a man of God, and that is what we are here for.”
“Holy mother of pearl,” Ollie said as he first saw the oncoming hoard of what they had named wambei. The sound of their movement was almost deafening.
Dylan threw up seeing the wambei again. Some of the others saw him do that.
“Oh, that’s just great. I heard he is supposed to be a great warrior.”
“Sure doesn’t look like one to me,” a couple of guys said.
Dylan let that sink in for a few moments leading up to the fight. He grabbed his sword tighter. He was one of the very few to use a sword; most everyone else had chosen a gun. He thought they were foolish for that unwise choice, but Bob let everyone pick what they were most comfortable with.
The wambei had no weapons; they didn’t need any. They were too fast and too strong for a human to handle them without some kind of aide.
Porter walked up next to Dylan carrying his most trusty Barrett. “You better watch where you step, kid. You don’t want to walk through your own puke.”
Without another word, the battle began when a wambei was propelled into the air by another wambei. It flew toward the middle of the pack of humans; Porter got his Barrett up just in time to shoot it out of the sky.
“Man, have I ever said how much I love this thing?” Porter said as the wambei’s remains fell on the open field.
Greg was standing right next to him. “Yes, you have, about a hundred times.”
The battle was in full force now, with the wambei almost completely surrounding the humans. The tribe was outnumbered by a thousand, and things were looking very badly.
Dylan had easily slain three wambei with his sword. Unfortunately, there was a lot of crossfire from the guns, and he had seen a least three people get shot from friendly fire. There was no organization to the fighting; it was complete chaos, and screams and blood came from all directions.
Dylan managed to clear a path ahead of him long enough to see Bob get torn to shreds by two creatures. All of the sudden, two more were on top of him, and they fought the first ones over who would get the body.
Dylan ran over to Bob’s body and slayed the four wambei, but there was nothing left of Bob worth recovering. At least Dylan hadn’t let those that killed his instructor get away with it.
The battle raged on, lasting longer than anybody could have imagined. Dylan wondered if there was a leader or general for the creatures. They didn’t seem to have direction; it was like someone had simply ordered them to go fight someone.
It turned out that when Rodan confronted the leader of the wambei and killed him, all of the creatures’ central thinking devolved into total chaos.
The humans were winning the one-on-one battles, but when there were two or more wambei, for the most part the humans were overrun by their opponent.
Wambei and human bodies piled up. Rain started pouring down. Though the battle was finally almost over, Dylan wasn’t slowing down quite yet, as he ran his sword through the necks of Hell’s soldiers.
“I don’t like this,” Chris said anxiously, pacing back and forth in front a tray stocked with operating tools.
“What don’t you like?” Leah asked, watching the town’s only doctor constantly rubbing her hands together.
“I don’t like how the battle has been going on for nearly three hours, but no one with injuries has come in through the gate.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Leah asked.
“No,” said Hanna, standing next to her. “That means they are dying before they can get back to the gate to be let in.”
That made Leah’s heart skip a beat then go into overdrive. She thought about Morgan, and though she would never tell anyone, she thought about Dylan just as much.
It seemed that there were no more wambei to fight. The tribe found their compatriots’ bodies to give them a proper warrior’s burial. Morgan found his friend Hank bleeding badly.
“Hey, buddy, you OK?” Morgan grabbed his friend’s hand in a friendly embrace.
“Never been better. I think I even managed to get a shave while I was out here.”
The friends laughed, albeit nervously.
“I am going to get help, OK?” Morgan got up to ask someone for help. As soon as he stood, a claw came from behind him and ripped his throat out of his neck.
Hank screamed with all the strength he had left. Dylan and Ollie were the first to hear the scream. They both ran over to where Morgan was still standing. By the time they reached him, Morgan had fallen to his knees. He lived long enough to look Dylan in the eyes, then he lay down on the blood-soaked ground, never to get up again.
Dylan and Ollie made short work of the wambei that took Morgan’s life, cutting its head off, as well as its legs and arms.
“Bring out the stretchers. We have wounded,” Someone shouted as the tribe’s army made its way back to the wall surrounding the town. The gate opened, allowing those on the inside to help the survivors.
Leah tried hard not to run out looking for Morgan; she had a job to do, and that was assisting Chris and Hanna with any help they needed taking care of the wounded. She told herself that not seeing Morgan was a good thing, that he had survived unharmed and was still outside the wall, helping to find and recover the injured. Well, she wasn’t going to think about those people, not yet anyway.
Dylan told Ollie and Hank not to say a word to Leah about Morgan. He would tell her himself after he told Jane that Bob was gone and that she needed find someone else to lead the fight.
“Dylan, you made it. Good, Bob said you were tough,” Jane said.
Dylan had a stony face that moved with all the grace of a flat rock rolling down a hill. “Bob didn’t make it,” he said. “You need to find someone to take over his duties, and try to find someone who won’t be the first one to die in battle next time.”
Dylan left Jane without saying anymore, leaving her in shock and disbelief. He had to go to Leah and let her know that she was a widow now.
Dylan walked back to the triage area by the gate to look for Leah. He couldn’t find her on his own, so he went up to Hanna. “Where is Leah?” he asked.
Hanna was finishing up stitching a small cut on someone’s arm. “She went home to look for Morgan. Why do you need her?”
The look on Dylan’s face answered her question.
“He died out there, didn’t he?” Hanna asked, tearing up.
Dylan solemnly gave one nod of his head, then he walked away.
Andy ran up to Dylan as he walked through the town on his way to Leah’s house.
“Hey, I am glad you made it out of there alive,” Andy said, walking along with Dylan.
“Same here. I mean, about you,” Dylan said, looking straight ahead.
“When you have time, I need to talk to you about what you saw at the battle. I am trying to keep as accurate of a r
ecord of it as I can.” Andy held a clipboard in his hand.
“Yeah, no problem, just give me a few hours. I need to give Leah some heartbreaking news.”
Dylan maintained his stony expression, but inside he felt a molten volcano of emotions. He arrived at Leah’s front door and stood under the porch roof; it was the first time Dylan had gotten out of the rain since it started. Leah must have gotten there just before he did; Dylan could hear her walking through the house saying “Morgan!” each time she entered a different room.
Dylan knocked on the door and it opened slightly. Leah must not have shut it all the way. His heart was pounding so hard and so fast, he thought that it was going to burst through his chest. He could hear that Leah had stopped walking from room to room; it sounded like she’d stopped walking altogether.
To Dylan’s surprise, the door slowly opened all the way. Leah looked Dylan straight in the eyes. He could see that she hadn’t cried yet, but was on the verge. Not even a fraction of a second after their eyes met, Leah started crying uncontrollably.
She walked backward into the house until she hit a wall. She slid down, holding her face in her hands. Dylan froze at first, not knowing what to do. He watched her as if everything slowed down. He decided to console her as best he could. Without a word even being spoken, so much had been said. Dylan walked into the house and sat on the floor next to Leah. As soon as his back was against the wall, Leah leaned into Dylan, and without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around the woman he loved. He held her tighter than he’d ever thought possible.
The rain stopped and the clouds parted with nightfall. The stars were brighter than ever, as though there were billons of lanterns hanging in the night. The moon even had a comforting feel to it.
With his preliminary count over with, Andy concluded that the tribe had lost twenty-nine people in the battle. That was a big number, considering that only three hundred fought. Those people could never be replaced, and if the wambei came back anytime soon with the same numbers, it could very well mean the end for Hope.
Dylan woke up feeling very uncomfortable. He had fallen asleep on the floor with Leah leaning up against him. He looked down to see a piece of paper sitting inside of his right hand. Taking up his left arm, he unrolled the paper with his free hand to reveal what it said.
Come to town hall as soon as you wake up. –Jane
Dylan did what he could to free himself from Leah; he managed to lay her down gently on the floor. He then got up, covered her with a blanket he found in the living room, and left her house as quietly as possible.
Dylan walked into the single room that served as the town hall. When he walked in, he saw a bunch of defeated, unwashed, and dirty faces. Even Stan—Rodan, who had revealed himself to be an agent of Heaven—looked beat.
“Thank you for making it, Dylan,” Jane had said as she got up from her chair.
“What do you need from me?” Dylan was confused why he of all people would be in a room with the town leaders the day after a horrible event.
“We need you, Dylan,” Charley said, still sitting at the large table.
“Need me? For what?”
Jane made it to within arm’s length of Dylan. “We want you to lead the new training academy.”
What? Dylan thought to himself.
“Bob was very proud of you. You were his best student by far,” Jane said, trying to give Dylan a gracious smile but falling short. She was too tired to be political.
“That’s not saying much,” he replied while trying to think of something else to say. The others in the room looked uncomfortable at what he said. “I don’t think I can do that,” Dylan said. The pressure of that kind of responsibility already weighed down his shoulders.
Charley got up from the table and walked over to the overwhelmed and battle-struck young man. “According to Andy, you by far and away had more confirmed kills out there than anybody else. He said you saved more lives than anybody else. Andy and everybody else that we talked to said that you were the best fighter out there. We need the best to teach the others how it’s done.”
Jane then added, “Without you, we may be wiped out in the next battle.”
Dylan left the town hall without giving an answer. He had a lot to think about. Before he knew it, he was standing outside the training center, which used to be an outdoor basketball court next to a tennis court beside the old school.
“Hey.”
Dylan was broken out of his trance by the sad, sweet voice of Leah, who was standing behind him. He turned to face her.
“Hey, how are you?” he asked with a slightly out-of-place, upbeat voice.
The bags under Leah’s eyes and yesterday’s clothes, which she still had on, answered that question.
“Thank you for last night. If someone had to tell me, and unfortunately it happened, I am glad it was you,” she said.
Dylan looked down at his feet for a second. “I am going to go home and shower. I smell awful. After that, do you want to come over to my place? We can talk about yesterday, if you want.”
“OK, I will go and shower too.” Leah gave him a frail smile, then she turned and walked in the direction of her house.
Dylan glanced the training center. He took two steps toward his house, then stopped and looked up at the roof of the old school, the same roof where Bob had sat and watched Dylan practice on his own.
If I am so good, then why didn’t Bob make everyone fight the way he made me? Dylan thought. He then left for that shower.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Will asked as Dylan walked in the house.
“Just finally ready for a shower. Are you OK?” Dylan asked, looking at Will’s shoulder, which was all wrapped up in bandages.
“Oh, this thing?” Will looked down at his own shoulder. “It’s just a scratch. They overdid it.”
Before Dylan went to take his shower, he told Will that Leah was coming over. Without being asked, Will said he was about to leave anyway to get his bandages looked at.
When Leah knocked on the door of Dylan’s house, no one answered. She walked in on her own.
“Dylan?” she called, walking from room to room. “Andy, Will, anybody home?”
A door opened right next to where Leah was standing.
“Ah!” she shouted with her heart pounding in her chest.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Dylan had just walked out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel.
“It’s OK, I am just a little on edge,” Leah said, looking for a place to sit down.
“Here, I will show you the living room. It’s the only place in the house that we have furniture—well, other than beds,” Dylan said, walking at a fast pace. “I will be right back. I need to put some clothes on.”
Leah smiled uneasily and sat on a couch, waiting for Dylan to get back. She looked around the room. Yep, this is what a place that only boys live in looks like, she thought to herself.
Dylan ran up the stairs to his bedroom as fast as he could, slipping on the top step when his wet feet couldn’t get a grip. He fell down three steps before he grabbed the railing.
“Ah, that hurt!” he said out loud.
“You OK?” Leah’s voice called.
Great, Dylan thought, Leah heard me be a bumbling idiot. At least she didn’t see it.
A few minutes later, Dylan came back down the stairs fully clothed. He faced Leah as he sat down on the couch on the other side of the coffee table.
Dylan’s heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might break through his chest.
“I don’t know how much more I can take,” Leah said, starting to cry again. The weight of the world was on her shoulders and she was breaking under the pressure. Dylan got up sat next to her, putting his left arm behind her back. She immediately embraced him, wrapping her arms tight around his torso. She couldn’t speak anymore. Words
were not needed.
Dylan decided right then and there that he would take care of Leah for the rest of his life. He didn’t know what that would mean, but he didn’t care. He would never try to push her away again, even if she found someone else to be with. It didn’t matter. She was more important to him than anything else.
Two days after the battle, while most were still cleaning up and some were out burying their fellow townspeople, a rumor spread that Jane had had a nervous breakdown during the night, and that she had resigned as lead elder first thing that morning.
Once Dylan heard the rumor, he casually walked toward town hall to see what was going on. To his surprise, the door was locked. No door was ever locked in Hope. He decided not to knock; he could wait until one of the elders was available.
It was around mid-morning when the elders came out of the town hall building. All but Jane came out and started to help with clean up and repairs around town. It was at that time that Dylan approached Charley about taking over the training academy.
“Who do I need to talk to about this whole military academy thing?” Dylan was trying to get an idea of who might be in charge.
“Me, you can talk to me about it.” Charley seemed sure of himself.
“Should Jane know?” Dylan asked.
“Jane is . . .” Charley paused, trying to find the right way to say Jane had lost it. “She’s taking a break for a while. I am now the lead elder.” Charley looked around and turned back to Dylan. “Are you going to do it?”
Dylan still wasn’t ready to answer, but he knew someone had to do it. “Yes, I will do what I can to teach all I can to kill every last one of those wambei.”
“The old school is all yours, then,” Charley said, slapping Dylan on the shoulder. “You can do with it what you want.”
That afternoon, all the survivors of the first battle went outside the gate and across the old highway. There, right by the remains of Frank, Elisabeth, and Reggie, were twenty-nine new graves. Jim wore his full ceremonial garb. He stood on a box so everyone could see him. He led a very emotional funeral for those who lost their lives in a battle to save humanity.
