Call to War: Hunter Wars Book Six (The Hunter Wars 6)

by SD Tanner

  Suddenly the space in front of her opened, and she found herself staring into the blue on blue eyes of a super hunter wearing ACUs. She was about to die. A familiar sinking sensation, that she’d felt as a child when her father came into her room late at night, flooded through her. Back then, her emotions would drain and she would force herself to feel numb.

  “Soon, Mary, we’ll be together very soon,” her father whispered silkily in her ear.

  Without warning, she felt an explosion of anger. In a cry that came from decades of suppressed rage, she shrieked, “No!”

  Launching her body forward, she raised her hand still clenching the machete, and swung wildly at the super hunter. It seemed more amused than worried by her attack, and stepping away, her machete harmlessly arced down. Slipping on the greasy and bloody ground, she fell to her knees and looked up, knowing she was about to meet her father in death. The super hunter smirked, lifted his gun, and she found herself staring into the barrel. To her surprise, the bullet never came, and the head of the super hunter split down the middle and blood exploded from the gaping wound. The body of the super hunter was suddenly thrown to the left, and it revealed the hulking body of a mud man. He stepped up to her and held out a large dirt-colored hand. Taking his hand, she was surprised it felt warm, and had a firm and reassuring grip. The mud man pulled her to her feet, nodded and then turned away, pushing himself into the battle. The mud men were here for her, and feeling protected, she followed him into chaos of the battle.

  ***

  Nathan (from the Navy base)

  He’d stood with Tess and his squad waiting for the onslaught of the hunters. Being at the far end of the front line, he was surprised to see a man in a wheelchair, and no one seemed to know who he was. The man had stood up and shouted something he didn’t quite hear, and all the hunters dropped dead. Before he could make sense of what happened, thousands of enormous men seemed to climb out of the ground, and then they charged forward. After all of these weird events, they’d finally surged towards the enemy, and now he was caught in the middle of the battle. The strange men were fighting with them, and he thought they were doing a better job than he was. In the crush of bodies around him, he lost track of Tess. Feeling a growing sense of panic, he was pushed and shoved by the endless movement.

  Not sure what to do, he risked standing higher, trying to peer over the heads of the troops and the strange men. All he saw were raised arms that were swinging weapons and blood spurting into the air. He had no idea what to do, and looking for someone to fight, there was a truck to his right. Pushing his way towards the truck, he saw a super hunter firing through the broken windshield. In front of the truck his fellow shooters were falling under the continuous fire, and adrenalin began to fire through his veins. Determined to stop the super hunter, he shoved his way to the truck door and yanked it open. Fueled by outrage and disgust, he pulled out his KA-BAR and scrambled into the truck. Jabbing wildly, his hand was hitting the super hunter, and it felt like he was punching him. The super hunter stopped moving, and pulling away, he watched it slump forward. Blood was draining from the puncture wounds, and he hadn’t been punching it, but rather stabbing it over and over again. Feeling triumphant, he tried to grab the super hunter’s gun, but his body didn’t move the way he wanted it to. Looking down at himself, his shirt was drenching in blood. Finally able to move his arm, he clutched his gut, but his fingers slipped deep inside his stomach, and he felt the slippery texture of his intestines. I’m hurt, he thought, and then he slid down next to the super hunter, with his head resting against its thigh.

  Time slowed down and his mind began to drift. The sound of the battle faded, the smell of blood was replaced by something sweet, and the roof of truck disappeared. All he could see was a brilliant white light, and he heard voices softly calling to him. “Come home.”

  ***

  John (from the Ship)

  He was still standing in formation on the left flank. He’d watched in disbelief as the hunters dropped and soldiers emerged from the land. Bombs were ripping holes in the staggered front line. This is how we’ll die, we’ll never even see our enemy, much less get to fight them, he thought.

  “What’s happening?” He asked the man next to him.

  “Dunno.”

  “Should we just stay here?”

  “Dunno.”

  Perplexed, he looked around at the other men and women standing with him, but they all appeared stunned and mesmerized by the events unfolding on the main battlefield. Not knowing what else to do, he stood and waited with them. A short distance away, a man on a horse was riding towards them. As the man drew closer, he recognized it was TL and he looked calm. He stopped, and without dismounting, he conferred with a man called Mike from New York. The two men seemed to decide something, and around him people began to surge forward. He found himself being pushed along by their movement.

  Hoping someone had heard their orders, he asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Behind the lines. We have to take out their artillery.”

  “But that could be miles away.”

  “Then we better run. They’re still bombing our people.”

  The message spread through the thousands of men and women, and they picked up their pace. After a while, most of his fellow runners peeled away, and Mike was leading that group to the rear of the enemy lines. He guessed they would attack their enemy from behind. His group had maybe a thousand men and women, and TL was riding ahead, leading them to the enemy artillery. Following without thought, he dropped his heavy pack to the ground and began to run even faster. Around him, men and women left their packs behind and began to sprint. Struggling to breathe, but determined to do whatever he could to save their world, he ran on. His legs ached and his lungs burned, sweat poured down his face and he feared he might faint, but he never stopped planting one foot in front of the other. They must have run several miles, and ahead of them were small groups of men clustered around large guns. The super hunters clearly hadn’t expected anyone to attack them and, as his group and another one came from the other side, many of them abandoned their guns and began to run away.

  Roaring in frustration, he felt a surge of energy. Picking up his pace while lengthening his stride, he was determined to kill his enemies and destroy their weapons.

  ***

  Jack (from the main island)

  With the ten thousand reserve troops behind the front line, he waited impatiently for his orders. Pax told him they would need an experienced soldier to lead the reserves, and although he’d hoped to be in the front lines, he accepted he’d be more useful once they got their equipment working. Gears had arrived on horseback and talked to Nelson, but not being swift on his feet, by the time he reached Nelson, Gears had already ridden away.

  Limping slightly, he met Nelson. “What’d he say?”

  “He says to wait. If he can kill Ruler, the gates to hell will close and then our equipment will work.”

  He sighed in frustration. “Surely, there’s something we can do other than wait.”

  “We can take the wounded back to the Ranch.”

  “What wounded?”

  Nelson pointed to the battle raging over half a mile away. “They’re coming.”

  Four people in the distance were carrying someone between them. Another four people appeared carrying another body, and it became clear more people were slowly moving in their direction.

  The front line were sending back their casualties and he roared, “Medic!” Grabbing several men near him, he pushed them forward. “Go help them bring in the wounded.”

  Spinning on his good leg, he shouted, “Get stretchers ready to take wounded back to the Ranch!” Now knowing what he needed to do, he moved amongst his troops, continuing to give orders to help the seemingly endless stream of wounded leaving the battlefield.

  ***

  Steve (from Wolfie’s base)

  You busted my Harley, he thought and brought his blade down with all of his power onto the sup
er hunter’s arm. He’d sharpened his blade with the same meticulous precision he’d once polished his motorcycle. The lethally sharp knife sliced cleanly through the super hunter’s arm and it fell to the ground. The super hunter turned to him, and he could have sworn it looked surprised. Grinning, he slashed at the super hunter’s remaining arm, and it too fell to the ground. Smirking at his twisted humor, he thought the super hunter was now ‘armless’. Leaving it to bleed out, he searched for his next target. The odd-looking muddy men fought by his side, and they were as steady as he felt. He always believed actions spoke louder than words, and he continued to kill every super hunter he saw, but said nothing.

  ***

  Maureen (from New York)

  She was bored, irritable, and fidgeting with the awkward machete she held loosely in her hand. “We’re never going to get killed staying here while everyone else gets to fight.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Tom. We marched for two days to get here, and now we’re stuck in the rear with the gear that doesn’t even work.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “Seriously, why don’t we just sneak into the front line and join the battle? I’m sure no one would mind. We could just slip away.”

  “No, dear. You’re in the army now and you have to follow orders.”

  “Biggest battle of all time and I’m bored. I mean, really, we came here to die in battle, and now we don’t even get to go. It’s not fair. All those people fighting over there probably want to live, and here we are prepared to die, and we’re stuck. Maybe I should go and talk to whoever’s in command. There’s nothing going on here, so I’m sure he’s not busy.”

  Before Tom could give her another unsatisfactory answer, she heard a loud voice boom. “Medic!”

  Determined to make herself useful, she rushed to the front of the crowd, and men and women were headed towards them from the battlefield. Even from a distance, she could see they were covered in blood and black slime. Some were carrying people, and others were leaning on one another for support. A large group of men broke away from the crowd and began to run towards them. Around her men and women were running in all directions, and they returned from tents carrying stretchers and packs.

  A group of four men arrived carrying a man who was drenched in blood and streaked with black goo. His face was pale, and he looked confused and disoriented. With his shock of dark hair, he reminded her of their son, and she followed them into the medical tent. The tent was quickly filling with people, and medical staff were flitting between patients, calling out orders she didn’t understand. Standing near the young man she’d followed into the tent, someone barked. “Morphine and leave him.”

  Walking over to the young man, she took his hand and squeezed it gently. “What’s your name?”

  He didn’t reply, but continued to stare ahead, still breathing shallowly, but not aware of his surroundings. Sighing, she held his hand tightly, while she gently stroked his head. Without realizing it, she began to softly hum a song she’d once sung to her son as he fell asleep.

  ***

  Greg (combat team from Isle of Wight)

  All the hunters in front of them had dropped dead and he didn’t have a clue why. He was standing at the front of the right flank, and had no way to communicate with the other battalions. He couldn’t see the front line, but they could all hear the sound of gunfire and cries of battle.

  “Should we join them?” Marcus asked.

  “No.”

  He’d been trained to follow orders, and the last one he had was to stay put. In the distance, bombs were exploding, and the sound of continuous gunfire was intensifying. With every passing minute, his instinct to join his fellow shooters grew, and he felt fluttery sparks of anxiety firing through his body. Needing to burn his energy, he nervously flicked a small plastic hook that hung off his tactical vest, and tried to look calmer than he felt. Finally Pax appeared riding a grey dappled horse along the line of shooters standing ten men deep. He stopped and talked to someone he couldn’t see. Quickly concluding their conversation, Pax kicked his horse and it cantered towards the top of the line.

  “We gotta take out the arty! First one thousand shooters, drop your packs and guns. You’ve gotta run!”

  Obediently dropping his pack and gun, he said to his squad, “Stay together and follow me. We’ll lead the group, so let’s keep up a good pace.”

  Breaking into a fast run, he judged he was travelling at about seven miles per hour. Although he could run faster, he didn’t want to lose the rest of the group. There’d be no point arriving with less shooters and having them too tired to fight. Dead hunters were everywhere, and he leapt over their motionless bodies. The sound of gunfire began to fade into the distance, but now there was a steady whumping sound, which he assumed was the enemy artillery. There were five large guns ahead of them, each equal distance apart, and he wondered how they could approach without being shot at.

  Pax appeared briefly by his side. “Keep movin’!”

  Continuing to control his breathing, he pulled his machete from his belt, and his KA-BAR from its sheath. Twisting his head, he held both weapons high in the air to indicate everyone else should do the same. The big guns were only fifty feet away, and there were at least fifty men in ACUs surrounding each. Most of them didn’t seem to be doing anything, and more importantly, none had aimed their guns at them. He couldn’t work out if they didn’t know what to do, or were being overconfident. Within seconds, he reached the first super hunter. He swung his machete, aiming for its gut, slashing it open as he passed by. The super hunter folded over the lethal injury, and he pulled his machete free, targeting another super hunter in front of him. Grabbing the super hunter by the throat, he head butted it with his helmet, and pulling back, he swung the machete against its neck. He missed the cut he meant to make, but must have nicked the jugular, and its blood fired out in an arcing red spray.

  Gunfire exploded around him, but he pressed on. There were now so many people, all dressed in ACUs surrounding the big gun, he was having trouble working out who was on his side.

  Briefly confused, he heard Pax shout, “Guns! Guns!”

  Instantly understanding, he looked for anyone who was firing a weapon and targeted them. Launching wildly at a man holding his gun ready to fire, he grunted loudly, “Kill anyone with a gun.”

  Hacking into the super hunter, his machete was becoming slippery in his hand and he wondered why. His hand was bright red and his machete was dripping with blood. Not wanting to let go of his only weapon even for a few seconds, he gripped it more tightly, and glared around the platform looking for his next target. He saw Connie was grappling with a man in ACUs. Despite being short, she was pushing the super hunter’s arm up, and it couldn’t swing its weapon down to fire.

  Quickly covering the distance between them, he shouted, “Move!”

  Cutting the super hunter under the ribcage, he felt his arm jar when the machete hit bone. Yanking the head of the machete out from the super hunter’s body, he hammered it down again onto the back of its neck as it keeled over. Connie was already moving, and she body slammed another super hunter taking aim, making it lose balance and fire harmlessly into the air. He followed her, and smashed his machete into its lower spine, and looked for Connie again. Sure enough, Connie had targeted another super hunter, and as he moved in for the kill, he was joined by Marcus. Using Connie to find their targets, they steadily worked together, slaughtering one enemy after the next, until she found no more.

  Her face drenched in sweat and panting heavily, Connie turned to him. “I can’t see anymore.”

  He pushed his way across the platform where his own people stood, and the ground was littered with the bodies of super hunters and their own injured and dead. That can’t be it, he thought, I’m not satisfied yet. Looking across at the other platforms, there was more fighting and began to run towards it.

  Before he reached the next gun, Pax rode his horse across his path. “It’s
done. Get your squad together. We gotta go kill Ruler.”

  ***

  Angel (at the Ranch)

  She’d left the babies lying on mats inside the playpen, but she couldn’t hear them, and usually at least one of them was making a racket. Looking into the playpen, they were awake, but staring vacantly at nothing. Suddenly worried, she reached down and gathered Ant in her arms. Usually he would drool happily and reach for her long hair, but today he wouldn’t look at her. Holding him tightly to her, she was about to call for Mom when the front door to the Ranch burst open.

  A young intern shouted, “You gotta come now, Angel, we’ve got wounded!”

  Gently laying Ant beside the other babies, she turned and ran out of the house and onto the porch. They’d set up a makeshift hospital for triage in one of the barns, and there were rows of beds in the trailer houses behind the main house. One of the trailers was being used to provide several emergency operating theaters. Terry was with their reserve troops and medical tents providing immediate aid, and all they would get at the Ranch were the cases that couldn’t be helped in the field or their overflow.

  Looking across the plain from the porch, men were carrying people on stretchers and moving quickly towards the barn. Behind them was a long line of people, some were walking, and some were being carried. At a quick count, she estimated over a hundred injured people were headed their way. She briefly worried whether Captain Ted might be amongst them, but quickly dismissed the thought and focused on the people who needed her now.

  ***

  Mackenzie

  “Stay with me, Max,” Mackenzie said desperately. “Don’t die. I need you here.”

  He hadn’t wanted Max to join the battle, but he knew she would. It didn’t help that he’d seen her die, twice now, if he counted seeing the super hunter who’d just shot her through the chest. One of his visions warned him Max would die and he’d tried to tell her. She wouldn’t listen, but if she had, then she wouldn’t have been the woman he loved. Crouched over her, he held her hand and listened to her labored breathing. Her lungs were full of blood, and a field medic was about to punch a hole in her chest to relieve the pressure.