by T. C. Edge
“Well, what are we waiting for...”
She's unable to finish her little monologue. Athena doesn't let her. With the sudden pounce of a cat, she leaps forward and throws a fist, as fast as lightning. The Manson girl's eyes widen with shock as she stumbles back, just able to pull her face away from the incoming blow. And as she moves backwards, stunned by the sudden attack, the rest of us pounce too.
Everything happens so fast. On my left and right, Drake and Link dart in towards the two men facing them. In my peripheral vision I see little of their movements, my focus ahead on the taunting girl, now tripping over her ankles and falling to the floor as Athena looms.
I rush in after the girl I trained, the girl without fear, the girl designed for war. Already she's sliding down to the floor after her prey, attempting to wrap her arms and legs around her. The Manson girl is quick enough to roll back, scrambling through the dirt, rising quickly back to her feet.
Her eyes don't show fear, just confusion. As she said, no one knows about Athena. She can't have expected this.
With the ferocity of a raging lion, Athena continues forward as I catch up. Either side, the four men do battle in their pairs, seemingly sparring evenly. It's hard to know who might have the upper hand.
Back on her feet, the Manson girl stands tall and adopts a protective stance. Athena advances on one side, me the other. With a telepathic understanding only developed by training together, we both move in at exactly the same time. The girl reacts quickly this time, expecting the assault, displaying her superior fighting skills by ducking under our blows.
Her fist rises as he stands back tall. I see it coming just in time to pull my head back. But I don't see the other. It comes from the side immediately after, clattering into the side of my jaw. I feel my brain rocking inside my skull as I stumble to my left. My vision blurs as Athena roars forward like a caged animal, suddenly unleashed.
My foot catches on a rock and I fall. I hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of me. Wheezing, I rise to my feet, blink several times, and clatter forward into the fight once more. Athena's wild fists are flying, but she's inexperienced. The Manson girl dodges and weaves before taking her opportunity to send her own balled fist into Athena's gut. This time it's her to drops to her knees, fighting for breath.
“Well well well, is this really the best you have to offer,” laughs the girl. She looks at me as I come forward. “I honestly don't know what all the fuss is about you. I mean, really, look at you, Cyra...you're nothing special at all.”
She smirks, his eyes glinting. Then she looks around theatrically, as if searching.
“Now, where are your little friends? The ones from the execution. I can't wait to find them...”
I feel a fury rising inside me.
“Ah, yes,” she continues. “There are only two left. At least, that's the last I heard. Poor Theo, so young to die.”
Her laughter rings out around the square, joining the sounds of dull punches and grunts as the other men do battle. I look down at Athena, who rises to her feet, her eyes glowing with flames.
And inside, I'm burning.
I step onwards, coming face to face with the girl. Her cold stare maintains that evil smirk, her eyes twinkling with delight as she taunts me. She shouldn't. It's the last mistake she'll ever make.
With my right fist, I thrust forward. She dodges it easily, but it's just a decoy. My left arrives a split second later. That, too, is easily dealt with. My blood pumps hard, my entire body swelling with a ferociousness as the sight of Theo's death fills my eyes. I see his face ahead of me, smiling gently as I swing harder, faster.
And then I connect.
The Manson girl doesn't see it coming. Her eyes grow more and more alarmed and wide as my fists continue to come forward. Moving with such speed and anger, I finally open the gate, stamping my knuckles against her jaw. Her head rocks back and she begins to teeter. Athena jumps in behind her and locks her arms up into an unbreakable hold.
“Finish her, Cyra!” she shouts. “Finish her!”
Her eyes gesture to the pistol attached to my belt. I reach down and take the weapon, pulling it from its holster and aiming it at the girl's head. Her groggy eyes stare at me, her voice lower now.
“Do it,” she says, still attempting to laugh. “Do it...”
“You heard her, Cyra. Kill her!” shouts Athena.
My finger teeters on the trigger. I press the end of the barrel against her head. The touch sends a renewed smile across her lips. She doesn't attempt to move or struggle. She appears to have accepted her fate.
“There's nothing easier, Cyra,” she mumbles. “There's nothing more satisfying...”
I feel a bead of sweat trickling from my forehead in the cold night. Everything blurs except the sight of the two girls ahead of me, their voices in the air, both urging me to pull the trigger.
But I can't. Not like this.
I shake my head.
“She's a prisoner of war. I can't kill in cold blood.”
Athena's eyes grow more stark.
“You can't leave her alive. She's too dangerous.”
“I won't kill her. This is murder.”
“NO!” shouts Athena. “THIS IS WAR!”
She glares at me as the Manson girls smirks. Her eyes stare up at me, clearing once again.
“So weak,” she says quietly. “You're just so weak.”
Then her laughter fills the air once again, before suddenly, abruptly, being cut short. And along with it, the loud ring of a bullet sounds in my ear.
I turn to my right and see Link's muscular frame standing tall, his nose and lips bloodied, his eyes dark. In his outstretched hand he holds a pistol. A small swirl of smoke rises from the barrel.
Athena drops the Manson girl's body to the ground. It lands with a thumb in the dirt, blood pouring from a hole in her forehead. Her eyes stare forward, lifeless, and her lips remain curled in a wicked smile.
I stare at Link, and then turn my eyes back behind him. There, slumped on the earth, lies the body of the one of the Manson brothers. His torso points one way, his neck twisted around the other. His eyes lie open and wide, but there's no life left inside them.
“Wow...” says Athena, coming forward and looking at Link admiringly. “If Ellie didn't have you already...”
Link's eyes suddenly narrow, looking into the distance.
“Ellie,” he whispers.
Then, he turns and begins charging off into the darkness across the square, back to the front of the camp. We watch as he goes, and then see Drake, still fighting with the final Manson triplet. Athena and I share a look, nod, and then begin jogging towards him.
Three against one.
I'll take those odds.
15 - Valley of Blood
The final triplet is easily subdued once Athena and I enter the fray.
Against Athena's urges to kill him and be done with it, Drake agrees to bind him, knock him out, and take him prisoner. Once we've done so, we drag him to a nearby tent and place him inside. Then Drake turns to me.
“Where's Link?” he asks.
“He went to find Ellie, I think,” I say. “Back when I ran to get him from his cell, I had a vision of her surrounded by Eden soldiers. Link was there to save her...”
“So that's why you went to get him?” asks Drake.
I nod.
“I knew he had to be here. And look what a difference he's made,” I say, nodding out towards the square. “Without him, they would have killed us all.”
No one can argue with that
Out in the square, the sight of our own soldiers now appears, rushing through the camp beyond, closing in towards the back. Any Eden soldiers back there will be trapped against the mountain behind, with nowhere else to go.
At the other end of the camp, the wall continues to burn in flames, many tents and other structures still lit up in the distance. But the gunfire there has now ceased, the fighting moving to the rear where the Eden army appear to be ma
king their last stand.
Drake, cut dripping blood from his chin, face covered in smoke and grit and dirt, looks out over the camp. Slowly, he begins to nod.
“The battle is won,” he says. “They won't last much longer now.”
Sporadic gunfire sounds at the rear as more of our soldiers rush on, cheering as they flow like a river to wipe out the final remnants of the Eden force. Athena watches them go.
“I'm going too,” she says.
“There's no need, Athena,” says Drake. “I suspect those soldiers will be forced to surrender.”
“I'll make sure of it,” she says.
This time, however, she doesn't rush away. She waits for Drake's ruling. Duly, he tells her what she wants to hear.
“OK. Go and bring a swift end to proceedings. But be careful.”
A grin spreads across her face. I grab her shoulder as she prepares to rush off.
“No unnecessary killing,” I say firmly. “Take as many prisoners as you can.”
She nods her understanding as my hand slips back down to my side. She quickly disappears into the night in the direction of the final assault.
Drake looks at me.
“You don't fear for her, do you?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“For her? Would you?”
He laughs.
“She really was born for this.”
“Not like me,” I say. “If this is the last battle I ever see it'll be one too many.”
He doesn't say anything, but his eyes tell their own story. This won't be the last.
My mind turns back to Ellie and Link as we begin moving towards the front of the camp once again. As we go, more soldiers continue towards the rear, hundreds of them desperate to join the fray, like sharks smelling the scent of blood. The firing behind us, however, has already slowed to a crawl. By the time they get there it might all be done and dusted, precipitated by the appearance of Athena.
Bodies lie everywhere as we go. The closer to the openings blasted into the wall we get, the thicker they lie. Both our soldiers and theirs slump shoulder to shoulder in the thick red mud, blood curdling beneath them. They're all interchangeable. Any one of them could have been on either side of the fighting.
The task of sorting the dead has already begun. Working in pairs, people begin lifting and heaving our soldiers and theirs, sorting them into lines. Any wounded are gathered and taken to a makeshift field hospital. Prisoners are rounded up and bound, before being marched outside of the camp walls and penned together in guarded groups.
As we go, I search continuously for Ellie and Link, and to my relief, find them standing together with Troy just outside of the wall. Link appears to be briefing him on the role we played. Troy's strong arm rests on his shoulder as a mark of respect. He looks impressed.
I quickly rush up and pull Ellie into my arms.
“Are you OK?” I ask her hurriedly.
“I'm fine. Some Eden soldiers almost got me, but Link came from nowhere to save me.” She smiles and looks over at him. “That's why you were so keen to get him, isn't it? You saw something?”
“Yeah, I knew we needed him.”
Drake comes forward and takes Troy's hand firmly.
“Well done old friend,” says Troy. “I hear you bested three enemy Watchers?”
“Two are dead, thanks to Link,” says Drake, looking at the young man proudly. “The third is bound and out cold. We put him in a tent to the right of a large square on the eastern side of the camp.”
Troy clips his fingers and two soldiers come running to his side.
“We have a prisoner in a tent by the eastern square. Go find him and add him to the rest.”
The men nod and begin rushing off.
I look out over the battlefield, littered with small mounds in the darkness; bodies of men and women cut down during their advance towards the camp. Beyond, the horizon begins to shine with a deep red and orange hue, the sun beginning to peek out from the depths. The blood red light rises, casting a sombre glow over the wide expanse of earth, peppered with death and suffering.
Troy's voice brings me back. He too is staring out at the carnage.
“I've lost many soldiers today,” he says soberly. “But none have died in vain.”
“You said you saw the battle?” I ask. “How long ago?”
“Weeks,” he says. “I knew the date by the position of the moon and stars. I knew that tonight we'd strike together.”
“I'm sorry for the loss of your men,” I say, looking at the bodies.
“And I am sorry for yours, but this is war. Now, we are one army, united.”
Behind, the endless rush continues. The gunfire at the rear of the camp beyond has ceased, but the clean up operation is in full flow. Troy turns back towards the camp.
“I need to get back,” he says.
“I'll come with you. My men need instruction,” says Drake. He turns down to the rest of us. “Help where you can,” he says. “Gather together the dead. We will be taking them back to the mountain.”
“And the Eden soldiers?” I ask.
“They don't belong in the catacombs of Petram,” says Drake. “But they must be honoured. We will cremate them.”
As Drake and Troy re-enter the city, I turn back to the battlefield. The world continues to grow lighter, the deep red fading into lighter tones as the sun brightens in the distance. And with it, the faces of the dead grow clear, and the sound of wailing spreads throughout the valley.
Soldiers wander from body to body, searching the dead for their loved ones. Some have the misfortune of finding them. They drop to their knees and say silent prayers or begin crying out and cursing the heavens. Pain spreads like wildfire across the plain.
I leave Ellie and Link and walk alone. I look at the faces of young people, too young to die. Of old people, too old to fight. Of people sucked into a battle they never wanted to be part of. Surrounded by death, I feel my cheeks warm with tears. I wipe them clean, creating streaks of grit and dirt across my face. I have work to do.
For the next hour, as the sun climbs higher, I haul bodies. Those lying out on the battlefield are all rebel soldiers. Most I don't recognise, probably brought here by the other force led by Troy. Some I do, those I briefly trained or spoke to in the training cave or the central chamber of Petram.
As I go, a terrible fear grips me that I'll see Jackson's face looking back. I see bodies of similar build and feel my heart constrict. Some lie face down in the earth. I turn them over and shut my eyes tight, only to open them to faces I've never seen.
Then, from the punctured wall I see him. He walks out under the sunlight, covered in dirt and soot, his clothes stained with blood. I begin rushing towards him, and jump into his arms with such force we both clatter to the ground. Our lips meet with a passion and desperation that I've never experienced.
“I was so scared, Jack. Scared I'd see you out there...”
“Not me,” he says. “I'm never leaving you.”
We lie there for a moment and stare into each others' eyes. And in that moment I realise that I cannot live without him.
“All right, all right you two. Easy now.”
I look up to see Athena hovering above us. We climb back to our feet.
“Athena helped out at the rear,” says Jackson. “She's pretty useful in a tight spot.”
I lock eyes with her.
“Don't worry,” she says. “I didn't kill many.”
“She didn't need to,” says Jackson. “They took one look at what she could do and dropped their weapons immediately.”
Athena shrugs.
“It was nothing.”
We return to the Eden encampment, the battlefield now largely cleared of the dead, loaded up onto the APC's to begin bringing them back up into Petram. Many journeys will be needed, the count of bodies numbering well over a thousand. The bodies of the Eden soldiers, however, number many more.
As we re-enter the camp, the sight of huge piles of bodi
es reaches my eyes. Dozens upon dozens stack up towards the sky in huge mounds, ready to be lit and burned. Before any new body is added, they're stripped of weaponry and armour, anything that might prove useful. It's an unpleasant sight to witness, but one I understand.
Just one of the many horrors of war.
Inside, I run into Markus. He looks weary and slightly shell shocked, still helping to coordinate proceedings from down on the ground.
“Cyra,” he says. “You survived. I'm glad.”
“You too Markus...sorry, Colonel Jensen. How did your men fare?”
His eyes turn down a little.
“They did their duty,” he says. “We lost many of them.”
“I'm sorry...”
A crackling in his jacket pocket sounds and he pulls out a communicator. He turns away as I hear the tinny voice of General Richter barking orders down the line. Oh how different it must be way up there on the ridge, safely inside that mobile fortress.
The morning continues on. More bodies are stripped and piled. Tents are ransacked and gathered up. Other structures get the same treatment. Anything that can be utilised is taken from the camp. Anything considered useless is burned.
Gradually, the camp is dismantled, bit by bit. Outside the walls, the many hundreds of prisoners are walked up the mountain path towards the city. Among them will be the final Manson triplet, mourning the deaths of his brother and sister.
Soon, the valley is cleared, but for the crumbling wall which is left. Behind it, several dozen mounds send plumes of black smoke into the cool blue sky, bodies burning and crackling and sending out a terrible smell of searing flesh. I stand for a while and watch. Such a tragic and unnecessary loss of life.
Together with the others, the long walk up the mountain path beckons. Many thousands of weary legs can already be seen in the distance, snaking up into the low clouds above. Those who remain in the valley continue to load bodies onto the APC's as they come up and down the mountain. Stocks of weapons and ammunition, armour and whatever else can be used, are gathered together and carried up by those strong enough to manage.
Link and Jackson are quick to offer themselves up, their backs laden down with heavy loads. Ellie, Athena, and I manage whatever we can, before joining the back of the line and setting back out towards the city.
