by Derek Gunn
The storm was picking up now, the swirling snow making it more difficult to shoot from distance but it worked both ways. If they could barely see the thralls it was almost impossible for the thralls to see his team. Each member was clothed in white weather gear and they blended into the background so well that Warkowski could barely see them as they pulled back. While they could slow the thralls down they were too few to cause any great problem for them either. At best they took out five or six thralls each time they sprung a trap and each trap took time to set up so they lost nearly ten blocks each time they retreated. He sighed. While what they were doing helped it was not what they needed. What they really needed was a major strike that would cripple the thralls advance before the heavier weaponry arrived and tore the city down around them.
* * *
“Where are those fucking tanks?” Carter yelled into his radio but he was answered by a burst of static and he threw it at his aide in disgust. “Keep trying. I don’t care if they have to drive through every building to get here, I want them here now.”
Carter was frustrated. He needed to get past these delaying tactics. One tank would do it. Just one tank could bring this fucking city down around the humans’ ears and his thralls would be able to advance in safety behind its armour. He cursed his earlier impatience in pulling so far away from his armour. He forced himself to calm down and think. He had sent two patrols out to flank the humans but the bastards weren’t staying around long enough for the patrols to catch them. Twice now he had sent patrols out but the humans had been gone by the time the advance parties got around them.
This was taking too long. Suddenly he had a thought.
“Get all the men into the remaining trucks,” he shouted and the men pulled back from their positions.
“Sir, what if they have more mobile mortars?”
“Then you won’t have to worry about anything anymore, Lieutenant.” He glared at the officer and the thrall dropped his eyes. “We’re going to push through. They haven’t used anymore explosives since those first shots so the chances are they don’t have any. Once we push through these delaying tactics you can have all the fun you want.”
He could see the lust in his men’s eyes and he played to it. “Remember, these bastards have weapons that we need to keep the vampires in their place. Once we win here we can take it all.” Despite the cold there was a ragged cheer from the men in front of him and they quickly moved to the remaining trucks. The engines coughed to life and he smelled the diesel in the air. This was it. This was his destiny. All or nothing. Once he had those weapons he would be invincible. He made a show of being the last one to get into a vehicle, letting his men see him in the street despite the risk of a sniper bullet. He made a show of getting into the first truck. Despite his misgivings he knew he had to lead from the front if he wanted them to follow him. He remained out in the open for another minute and then shouted.
“Move out.”
* * *
“Shit,” Warkowski cursed as he saw the seven armoured trucks power their way past their carefully chosen positions. “Go for the tyres,” he shouted but the vehicles were already moving too fast and they had passed before they had time to adjust their aim. “Okay.” Warkowski pulled himself up from his position. “We move quickly back to camp. If we’re lucky we can take a more direct route and get there before it’s all over.” The others nodded, their faces showing doubt for the first time that day.
* * *
Harris heard the faint growl of engines and he sighed. He had hoped that Warkowski would have bought them another hour or so. He pushed thoughts of his friend’s fate aside savagely. This wasn’t the time to mourn another friend. If he was still alive he would make his way back, if not then he had bought them a precious hour already and that would have to be enough.
“They’re coming,” he shouted to those around him. He surveyed the scene and took a deep breath. The bodies they had pulled from the grave were strewn around the entrance to their old home, mixed with some of his team and the bodies of the thrall platoon. It looked like a last desperate stand against a well-trained enemy force. It was important to ‘sell’ the scene to Carter and the thralls. If the thralls believed the humans already defeated then they might blindly walk into a trap. Carter certainly wasn’t stupid but the scene was pretty convincing. It was all they had.
* * *
Carter could see a number of small fires in the distance and he signalled for the driver to slow down. Ahead, he saw a number of bodies on the ground, the snow stained red around them. The snow was compacted and dirty around what appeared to be an entrance shielded from view by a complex roofing system that made the series of connected buildings look like ruins at first glance.
“The clever bastards,” he whispered as he strained to see through the storm. The complex would not be visible from above and barely visible from the ground unless you were really examining the area.
“Sir, some of those bodies are ours,” his Lieutenant announced.
“Yes, they are,” Carter replied. This was exactly what he was hoping to find. His advance team had found the humans after all. Why they had not reported the discovery was a mystery for another day. The humans had put up a brave fight judging by the number of bodies but the trail of bodies continued into the building so his patrol had obviously gone in. That his men were dead he had no doubt. After all, the humans had spent the last hour delaying his forces. But was it over already? Had the delaying tactics of the humans been merely a weak retaliation by the few who were left?
His thralls clambered out of the trucks and spread out. His Lieutenant shouted for his attention and Carter went over. The Lieutenant had rolled over one of the thrall bodies and he could see Sinclair’s frozen features, the thrall’s eyes staring sightlessly at him. His body was ripped by numerous bullets and blood stained his dark jacket.
“Should we finish it, sir? They’re probably huddling in their beds right now.”
Carter was about to respond but something was nagging at him. He continued to examine the scene as his mind tried to shake free what was troubling him. His silence was taken for assent by his Lieutenant and he began to organise the thralls into three teams. One team was already heading towards the main entrance and the other two spreading out to check for other ways in when Carter suddenly stopped.
“Hold on,” he shouted but the Lieutenant didn’t hear at first and continued into the entrance. “Wait,” Carter shouted again and the patrol stopped. “Where’s the snow?” The Lieutenant frowned and looked at Carter as his commander approached. “The bodies aren’t covered in snow yet it’s been snowing for hours.” Realisation dawned on the Lieutenant a moment before the explosion erupted from the main entrance and he was thrown into the air. Carter whirled as gunfire shattered the silence behind him. The trap had been sprung.
* * *
“Now,” Harris shouted. It wasn’t ideal but if they waited any longer the trap would be discovered. The blast caught two thralls, lifting them up and throwing them out into the snow where they lay in crumpled heaps. The others were thrown clear but were already getting to their feet. Harris watched as his team rose from their positions like the dead from their graves and sent a hail of fire towards the main collection of thralls.
The thralls scattered, returning fire as they ran and his team were forced to seek cover. The clearing around the flaming entrance had become an inferno and it backlit the thralls as they ran. Already there were five or six bodies sprawled motionless on the snow but there were far too many left. Harris ran towards the thrall vehicles. Whatever happened here they had to delay this force; they had to cripple their ability to catch the wounded.
Bullets hammered into an armoured truck as he ran alongside and Harris threw himself to the snow to escape the hail. The snow was cold as he slid under the truck but he ignored it. Bullets stitched along the ground where he had been running and Harris lay gasping for breath as he watched the snow pitch upwards with each strike. He took a b
reath and rolled out the other side of the truck. It was so difficult to see in the swirling snow, you never knew if someone was right in front of you so he kept close to cover and inched his way through the abandoned vehicles. He came to the fuel tank on the truck at the back of the line of vehicles and tried to open the flap. It was locked.
He dug into his jacket and withdrew a long knife and dug the point into the small crease and levered the flap open. He twisted the cap within and threw it out into the snow. The noise of gunfire competed with the wind for dominance and it was a close thing as to which was winning. He had no idea which way the fight was going. He could only hope that his team stuck to the plan and stayed out of sight as much as they could. Their job was one of distraction not to defeat the thralls. He had drilled into them the importance of watching for flanking manoeuvres, but he wasn’t sure if they really understood. He took a rag from his pocket and stuffed it into the fuel hole before pulling it out quickly and grunted in satisfaction as the fuel splashed out onto the snow and left a trail down the side of the vehicle. He dragged the soaked rag with him to the next vehicle and repeated the process.
Bullets thunked into the vehicles around him regularly but he didn’t think they were aimed at him, more likely they were stray shots. But a stray shot could kill him as easily as one that had been aimed so he kept low as he moved to the next one. He came to an abrupt stop as he saw a group of thralls guarding the lead vehicles. He had hoped that the thralls would all become so involved in the fight that they left the vehicles unguarded but they weren’t as stupid as he had hoped. From his position he could see at least four thralls but there could be more in the vehicles as well. Too many for him to take on.
He pulled his lighter out and lit the fuel trail. As first the old Zippo struggled to light in the wind but he finally got it lit. The fuel on the snow refused to ignite though. Maybe there wasn’t enough. He would have to get closer to the main tank. He retraced his steps until he came to the last vehicle he had sabotaged and he held the Zippo against the fuel trail low down on the metal. He hadn’t planned on getting this close to the fuel tanks and he bunched his leg muscles in preparation to run as soon as the fuel ignited. Nothing happened.
He held the lighter up higher, shielding the flickering flame against the wind. Shit. Would he have to do this at each vehicle? How long would his luck hold out? In the end it wasn’t the fuel that ignited, it was the fumes. One minute he was coaxing the tiny flame and the next a whoosh of flame erupted, engulfing his hand and then streaking upwards into the tank. The shock made him drop his Zippo but there was no time to retrieve it. He ran.
He got ten steps before he felt a wave of hot air pick him up and throw him forward. It was only when he hit the ground that he heard the explosion. He didn’t look back; he scrambled to his feet and continued running. His goggles had fallen down and wind slashed at his eyes, filling them with moisture and blurring his vision. He slammed into a wall, air expelling from his lungs in a great whoosh and he fell to the snow. He heard another explosion but he didn’t look back. He crawled around the broken wall and huddled there until the explosions stopped. Wind howled around him but he could still hear the dull thud of an occasional blast and he could feel each impact as the wall was struck by debris.
When he could only hear the wind and the faint chatter of the occasional machine gun, he peered around his cover. He could see flames in the distance and thick black smoke but little else. He couldn’t tell how many vehicles had been damaged but there was no way he had gotten them all so he would have to go back. He checked the magazine and slammed it back into its housing. It was time to go.
* * *
Carter led his patrol through the snow. Would this fucking storm ever stop? The main concentration of fire from the humans seemed to be coming from the east so he had left his main force under cover to pin them down while he led a smaller patrol around them. Of course, what had seemed like a good idea back in the clearing was proving more difficult in its execution. The blasted wind was throwing snow at him with such force that he could barely see in front of him, despite his goggles. He had lost all sense of direction. Had he come far enough to get behind the humans or did it just seem that way?
He lifted his head and listened but all he got for his trouble was cold snow down his neck. There! Was that a gunshot? There had definitely been some sound to his left. He motioned for the thralls behind him to get down and he made his way slowly to where he had heard the noise. It was blind luck that stopped him from walking right into the middle of the humans. One minute he was inching his way forward and the next he heard a voice call for a magazine. His heart nearly leapt into his throat. At first he thought it had been one of his own patrols and he was about to glare at the offender when he suddenly realised that the voice had come from just in front of him.
He strained his eyes to see through the snow, forcing himself to remain in place despite the cold. He could hear the restless shuffle behind him but he ignored it. Yes, he thought. There they were. No more than twenty feet in front of him he could just make out the prone figures of five humans. They had no one looking at their back trail. Amateurs, he grinned. Dead Amateurs. He signalled his patrol to advance and then he strode forward, taking the first two before anyone else could even begin to open fire.
Chapter 16
Amanda Reitzig stopped and watched the sleighs pass her by. They were five hours into the journey and were not making good time. They had to keep stopping to treat those who were badly wounded. It was horribly difficult to peel back the heavy blankets and clothes to get at the drips and then recover without causing damage to their patients. But what else could she do? IVs had to be checked as they had a habit of freezing or folding on themselves and cutting off the precious liquids. They had already lost three of the wounded. One had died of his wounds—she was surprised he had made it this far. Al Cuthbert had suffered too many internal injuries when the thralls had attacked, losing his liver and most of a kidney. But the other two had died from frozen IV lines. She now insisted each patient be checked every thirty minutes and her military guard had not been happy with these delays.
It had come to a head when she had insisted that they stop and bury Al. Tony Grier, their lead military representative, had argued violently that they couldn’t afford the time but she had insisted, using her authority as lead on the expedition to overrule him. He hadn’t been happy and had sent the rest of the expedition on ahead with the main supplies and less critical patients. He paced up and down as his men dug a grave in the snow for Cuthbert. The poor man had had no family so only the medical staff and the soldiers who had dug his grave stood over his remains before the soldiers covered the body and Grier ordered them to head out.
After the third burial Amanda decided she better mend some bridges as Grier no longer spoke to her. She knew how much she and her charges depended on him and his guards so she increased her pace and matched his long strides as they leaned into the wind.
“We’ll make up the time with the sleighs being lighter.” She tried to judge his reaction but his face was covered almost entirely. He looked over at her but his eyes were hidden behind goggles.
“Doc, I understand where you’re coming from. I really do.” His voice was muffled through the scarf he wore around his neck and mouth. “But you gotta see it from my side. You have up to twenty wounded who are seriously critical. If we take the time to bury them all, that’s up to four hours we delay this expedition. Four hours can get a lot of those not so critical patients killed.” He paused as he let his words sink it. Amanda could see his logic and the stark number hit her hard.
“But we can’t just abandon the bodies. What do you want to do, abandon them before they even die just in case they slow us down?” she countered reaching out to him and stopping him as she searched his face for some glimmer of hope. She knew that he hadn’t deserved her words, but she was so frustrated losing patients that would have survived if they did not have to make this journey. He just
happened to be close enough to bear her anger.
“Doc, that’s exactly what we have to do.” He pulled his goggles down and looked at her, his eyes were a warm brown and belied the callousness his words portrayed. “Look, I don’t like it either, Doc. I really don’t. But If Harris and McAteer can’t stop Carter, and I really can’t see how they can, then we need to concentrate on the getting these people to safety as quickly as possible. What’s more important, the living or how we treat our dead?”
He looked at her and his question hung in the air. He sighed and continued on past her, his head hung low and she wondered if it was just the wind that bowed him so low. She watched his back disappear into the swirling snow. “What are we if we lose our humanity though?” She whispered before following on behind.
* * *
Emma Logan was exhausted. Every step caused sharp pains to stab at the backs of her legs. The snow was so thick that her feet disappeared under a foot of snow with each step and she had to lift her foot up high before planting it a few inches further. At least the pain meant that her legs were not frost bitten...yet. She had seen five others transferred to the sleighs with frostbite and she had caught a brief glance of their flesh before Amanda had treated the area. The flesh had looked almost black from a lack of blood flow and the thought of losing one of her legs left her shaking with fear.
