by Jay Posey
All anxiety melted away as she felt the surge of focus. She was on the ground floor without having registered taking the stairs.
Down the hall ahead of her was an opaque white and grey smoke, swirling where she knew a door once stood. Cass plunged through, heard the crunch of debris beneath her feet and knew she was through the front room and then out into the open. The smoke was dissipating in the steady wind, just enough for her to start making out the charred, twisted, and broken forms of the Weir who’d been caught in the blast.
For a brief moment, she wondered if – by some miracle – the explosion had killed them all. The hope was quickly dispelled by an electric scream from somewhere in the smoke ahead of her. They were coming.
The first Weir leapt from out of the smoke in front of her, just to her right, and Cass spun to avoid it and fired a burst from the jittergun into its back as it landed. A second lunged from her left, and she met it with a cleaving stroke from the knife, dropping it at her feet.
She could see them now, lurching through the cloud towards her, two here, three there, and a fury overtook her. She fired one burst, then another, and then leapt forward and drove her knee into the chest of an approaching Weir, before severing its head from its body. The knife flashed almost of its own accord, perfectly balanced, deadly with every stroke.
Weir closed in from the sides, and she met them head on, smashing her fist into one’s face and then whirling to shoot another. To her surprise, they seemed to be moving at almost half-speed, and Cass found herself anticipating their movements. One crouched back as if to pounce, and Cass stomped forward, crushing her heel into its face before it even started forward.
A quick spin and she took a leg just below the knee, and then came up and caught another Weir in the throat with the muzzle of the jitter. She squeezed the trigger as it stumbled back and didn’t even bother to watch it fall.
The smoke continued to clear as Cass pressed forward, cutting her way through the throng. Her thoughts flashed back, back to the night, long ago, in the Strand when she’d fought among them, with a different result. Now, her full fury and vengeance coursed through her and into the Weir who could not stand before her.
But still they came, and where one fell, two soon took its place. As the air cleared around Cass, she saw that the blast had killed many and left others stunned. But she had little time to count casualties. The Weir were gathering their strength, and unity of purpose.
Cass felt the sting of claws sinking into her left shoulder, followed by a heavy impact from behind that sent her stumbling forward. She allowed the momentum to carry her, rolled, came up in a crouch and drove her blade into a Weir. Fired a long burst into the mass that rushed towards her now. And when she released the trigger, still they fell.
She leapt to her feet and spun to take the arm from the Weir who had been behind her, and then on the backswing, crushed its skull with the pommel of her blade. Cass continued her spin and brought the jittergun up, knowing the other Weir would be nearly upon her.
She fired off a burst, and then another, and found herself with more breathing room than she’d expected. Then she understood. Gamble and her team were out now, assisting.
Cass plunged forward, throwing herself into the nearest pack of Weir, trusting in the team that supported her. But as she fought on, she found the Weir rapidly changing tactics. They began to coalesce around her, feinting and falling back from one side, and instantly surging forward from another. Before Cass could react, she found herself being swallowed up and driven further away from her companions.
The Weir began landing more strikes, her cheek, her back, her thigh bled freely. Even as Cass adjusted, they now seemed to anticipate and counter her every move. Their shrieks threatened to disorient her. As they pressed in around her, she knew her only chance was to focus all her wrath on a single point, to drive through the crush.
Cass, fired her jittergun, slashing with her knife, forcing her way back towards the building, back to where Gamble and the team were. But in the churn, she’d lost her bearings, and the writhing horde blocked her view. She took a heavy blow to the left side of her head, and the world tilted, and Cass felt herself sliding, crashing through glass and barbed wire. She was on the ground. On her back. And for the second time in her life, she knew she would die.
With a roar, Cass squeezed the trigger and held it so hard she thought her knuckle might break as the jittergun spewed a stream of death into the tide of Weir that surged towards her. And then – above the demonic cries of the Weir and the buzzsaw scream of her weapon – Cass heard the strangest sound.
A single clear note, high and piercing, like the wind in a winter storm. A human voice. Singing.
And at its sound, the Weir checked their advance. Cass continued to fire into the Weir until she realized that the jittergun had ceased to buzz, and now made only a rapid clicking sound as it tried to feed from an empty magazine.
Strong hands seized her from behind as three forms swept past her and into the Weir. A swirling, almost blinding blue-white light emanated from the three as they moved among the Weir and cut them down with swords that seemed made of fire.
Cass felt herself slipping away, and everything grew smaller, and darker. And the last thing that Cass beheld was a terrifying vision. One of the three forms turned her direction, and its face was of lightning – with blazing coals for eyes, an avenging angel among ravaging demons. And Cass knew no more.
Cass felt herself floating. Or rather, it seemed more like she was falling, but upwards. Her eyelids weighed heavily on her eyes, as if the pressure from the speed of her movement was forcing them into the sockets. Memory fragments returned. Her right hand clenched, desperate to cling to Gamble’s knife, the one that had been in her family a long time, the one Cass had sworn she’d return. But her hand was empty. They had grabbed her. Dragged her away. The Weir had taken her. Again.
Her eyes drifted open, blurred. Tongue too big in her mouth. Everything felt too heavy. She was on her back. A hulking figure loomed. It reached for her. Cass tried to withdraw, but her body barely responded.
“Easy, sister,” a deep baritone voice soothed, the grip firm, heavy, but gentle on her arm. “You’re safe.”
She’d heard that voice before. A long moment. Then her mind processed.
“Mouse?” she said. It took more effort than it should have.
“I’m here,” he answered.
Her eyes still hadn’t focused. “I feel heavy.”
“I had to dose you. Probably going to feel groggy for a while.”
She inhaled deeply. It seemed to take a long time. “Why the dose? Am I hurt bad?”
“They carved you up a little, and you took a hard blow to the head. Nothing life threatening.” He chuckled a little. “I had to dose you because you kept trying to fight everybody.”
“Where’s Wren?” Cass asked.
“Sleeping. It’s the middle of the night. He’s perfectly fine. Not a scratch on him.”
“We made it?”
“We did.”
“All of us?”
He paused. “Almost.”
Cass closed her eyes. “Wick?”
“He’s in rough shape, but he’s hanging in there. Had to give him a fresh whole blood transfusion on the trip back. Got a little lucky there. Turned out Lil was a match.”
She opened her eyes again, turned towards Mouse. Her vision was clearing some. She could see his features. He looked tired. “Wick’s alive?”
“He is,” Mouse answered. He clenched his jaw with passing emotion. “We lost Elan.”
“No,” was all Cass could say. Mouse didn’t respond. There wasn’t really any reason for him to. She had prepared herself as best she could, expecting to lose some of their own. But to cost Lil and her wounded community another life… it seemed unconscionable. And Elan. She remembered him talking with Wren back before they’d left the village, talking about his son. What was his name? Ephraim. Now fatherless.
“How?”<
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Mouse shook his head. “It was a battle, Cass.” But something in his voice, or his expression – or both – said more. The last moments replayed in her mind. The Weir pressing in around her. Hands dragging her backwards, as angels met the advancing creatures. She’d thought she’d been hallucinating. Now Cass knew she hadn’t been. Not completely.
“He died saving me.” It wasn’t a question.
Mouse took a moment, searched for the words, and then just said, “It wasn’t your fault. And if not for you, more would have died.”
“That doesn’t bring Elan back.”
“Neither does feeling guilty.” She just looked at him, saw pain there, but also grim acceptance. “He knew what we were up against, Cass. He wanted to come help. He volunteered to come help. I guarantee you, if he’d known for sure how it was going to turn out, he still would’ve come.”
“You sound awfully sure for someone who didn’t know him.”
“I knew him. He was a warrior, same as me. And if you gave me the choice between staying behind while others went to war, or laying down my life to see my brothers and sisters safely home, it wouldn’t even be a choice.”
Cass looked up at the ceiling. It was a bond she’d witnessed before, but had never known herself, not outside of her children. “How’s Lil?”
“Glad so many made it home.”
They fell into silence after that. Cass still had many questions, but they seemed to slip through her mind before she could fully grasp them. And while she chased them, a deep and dreamless sleep overtook her.
TWENTY-ONE
When Cass awoke, she knew it was morning from the light streaming in from the high narrow window above her head. She was still on her back, but her mind was sharper, her vision clear. She recognized the room now. The same one she’d been in during their previous stay at the refuge. Wall on her right. And to her left, on the bed across the small room, Wren sat next to Lil. They reacted to her movement; Lil smiled at her, and Wren slid off the bed and timidly approached.
“Hi, Mama,” he said.
“Hey, baby.”
“How are you feeling?” Wren asked.
“Still trying to figure that out. But better, I think.”
“Do you think I could give you a hug?”
“Absolutely.”
Cass held out her arms to him and he came and sat on the edge of her bed. Wren leaned down, gently tested his weight against her. Cass pulled him in tight. He responded by sliding one of his slender arms under her neck and squeezing fiercely, and pressing his face into hers.
“How are you?” she asked. “Are you hurt at all?”
She felt him shake his head against hers.
“I was scared for you,” Wren said. “Mouse said you would be OK, but it didn’t look like it.”
“Mouse was right. I am OK. You don’t need to worry.”
He turned his face into the hollow where her neck met her shoulder, and whispered, “I hate it when you’re hurt, Mama.”
“Well, I’m OK now. How long have we been here?” Cass asked.
Wren finally released her neck and sat back up on the bed. “Just the night. We got back a little before the sun went down. You’ve been sleeping.”
Cass decided to test her strength. She pushed herself up, slowly, to a sitting position. She still felt weak and a little dizzy, but she managed. There were bandages wound around her torso and her right biceps, and covering her left shoulder. She worked her left arm, felt a hollow pang deep, so deep it almost felt like it came from within her shoulder blade. With her fingertips, she gently probed the side of her head, from her hairline backwards. There was a goose egg just above and slightly behind her ear. The skin didn’t seem to be broken. Small comfort.
She drew her legs up tentatively. A burn stretched through her right thigh and made her breath catch. After a moment, she exhaled slowly and patted Wren on the side. He scooted towards the foot of the bed, giving her room to swivel and swing her legs over the edge. She gingerly moved back so she could lean against the wall, and then straightened her legs out again.
The pain was hard to define. It hurt certainly, but the raw edge was missing. Cass wasn’t sure if that was due to the injection Mouse had given her, or if it was a new way her body processed injury. The bandage around her thigh was discolored, like a bruise beneath the cloth, where the wound had oozed, but not enough to soak through.
Once she settled into position, she held up her arm and motioned for Wren. He slid in next to her and cuddled up.
Lil sat across from Cass, watching them together. The smile was gone, but she had a pleasant expression on her face. There was a heaviness in her eyes, though.
“Mouse told me about Elan,” Cass said. “I can’t even begin to express how sorry I am…”
Lil’s gaze dropped for a moment at the mention of his name. But then she gave a nod and looked back up at Cass. “We will all miss him very dearly.” And something in her voice said more, and Cass knew then that there had been more between them than she had previously guessed. More than friendship. Lovers. Perhaps only in secret, or maybe only in their hearts, separated by some other circumstance.
“His son… did I make him an orphan?” Cass asked.
Lil shook her head. “Ephraim’s mother is here with us.”
“How is she?”
“It’s a difficult time for her. Their relationship had been strained for quite a while, and I’m afraid they didn’t part on the best of terms.”
“And how are you?”
Lil hesitated. But she seemed to soften slightly, and after a moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them. “It’s a difficult time for us all.”
The emotions swelled within Cass, the sorrow, the anger, but most of all the guilt. “Lil, if I could go back–”
Lil raised a hand and shook her head. “Don’t, Cass. We know our enemy; our enemy took his life, not you. The seven of us made our own decisions, and we did so fully expecting that some wouldn’t return. That six of us did, with all of you as well… it’s a triumph beyond what anyone would have imagined. If you must feel sorry, pity Mouse. I think he has taken it the hardest of all.”
She dropped her gaze again, but a little smile crept across her lips. “He is something of a mystery. A valiant warrior, yet even more fierce a healer. ‘A poet in a barbarian’s body’,” Cass said, recalling Swoop’s earlier joke. Half joke.
“He fought relentlessly to save Elan. When it was clear we wouldn’t be able to resuscitate him, we had to physically restrain Mouse.”
“That couldn’t have been easy.”
Lil chuckled. “It was not.”
“But you were able to bring…” Cass almost said the body, but stopped herself, “…him home?”
Lil nodded. They sat in silence for a time. Cass ran her fingers through Wren’s hair, kissed the top of his head.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Cass said at last. “It’s all confused in my mind.”
Lil drew a breath and remained quiet a few moments.
“I’m sorry, you don’t have to,” Cass said, but Lil shook her head.
“When we arrived, we spread out just north of the enclave and remained hidden. I came closer than the others, to scout. I confess, I thought you had exaggerated how many Weir were there. If anything, you may have underestimated their numbers.
“After the explosion, the dust and smoke were thick, and I couldn’t see much at first. But we closed ranks as planned, hoping to provide a front against the Weir, for you to retreat behind.”
She paused, her eyes momentarily distant, unfocused. Cass waited patiently.
“You killed a lot of them, Mama,” Wren said. “A lot.”
Cass glanced down at Wren and then back up to Lil for confirmation. She nodded.
“I’ve never seen anyone move like that before,” Lil said. “Even now, I can hardly believe that what I remember is true. The explosion had thrown many to the ground, but it killed only a handful. Fifteen, maybe
. We estimate you alone killed over forty.”
“It wasn’t just me,” Cass said. “Gamble and her team were firing from the building.”
“No,” Lil said, shaking her head. “That was before your team made it to the door.”
Cass thought back to the moments before she first heard gunfire. The ground had been covered with the slain, but she’d thought most of them had come from the explosion.
“The Weir didn’t seem to even notice the others until they were already behind us. We called to you then. But you didn’t hear. The Weir…” Lil trailed off for a moment, searching for the words. She shook her head again. “It was like a human whirlpool. Inhuman. That was when we feared for you, and came to get you.”
“I think… I think that was Asher,” Wren said. “He didn’t want you to get away.”
“After I fell, I must’ve already been losing consciousness. I thought I saw…” Cass said; it was her turn to trail off now. She was almost embarrassed to say it. “I don’t know. Something like angels, I guess. And I could swear I heard singing.”
“That was Lil,” Wren said. “She sings.”
“We learned long ago that when one is surrounded by unearthly screams, a human voice can sometimes reduce the terror.”
“No one sings like Lil, though,” Wren added. “It makes you brave.” Lil looked at him with a warm smile.
“Well, that’s reassuring,” said Cass. “Good to know I didn’t hallucinate the whole thing.”
“You didn’t dream any of it, Mama,” Wren said. “They were doing their trick.”
Cass looked at Wren, and then back to Lil for an explanation. Lil didn’t seem to understand exactly what Wren was saying either, at first.
But then she said, “There’s something Chapel taught us. He called it broadcasting. We’re not sure what it really does, or why it works, but it seems to make the Weir more hesitant to attack.”
Cass thought back to her last view of the battle, and though her final thoughts had been full of dread, her curiosity nevertheless won out.
