“About what?”
“I needed to lead today, though I was mad at you for making me do it.”
Oh. I guessed our current position meant he’d gotten over it. “You brought back your whole team, so I knew it went well. But I had no doubts.”
“I did,” he admitted. “I was afraid I’d lock up or panic.”
“You’ve fought since you were taken.”
“It’s harder when your choices affect other people,” he pointed out.
So true.
“But you coped. No matter what life offers, you just fight harder. I love that about you.”
I could tell he was smiling when he nuzzled the curve of his lips into my neck. “Let’s see if we can find a place to clean up.”
Since I didn’t care for the idea of sleeping in travel dust and the blood of the day’s battles, I followed him. The lab complex was bigger than it looked from the outside, as corridors crisscrossed the length and breadth of it. There were also stairs down, but I’d had enough of darkness, so I steered us away from there. At length we found a cleaning room with a spigot that provided a gush of water.
Fade and I took turns rinsing off, and I was conscious of my heart beating in my throat as I scrambled into clean clothes. I’d like to see what he looked like with nothing on, but this wasn’t the time or place. I cursed those girlish impulses as Fade strode out with damp hair flopping into his eyes. In the winter months, he tended to let it get shaggy, providing more warmth, and then as the sun shone brighter, he often hacked it off. It didn’t matter to me what he did with it; I enjoyed gazing at him regardless. By his expression, the feeling was mutual.
Fade appraised me with warm, dark eyes, and it was as powerful as a kiss. “I could look at you forever and never get tired of your face.”
His words flooded me with pleasure so sharp it pierced like pain. That was better than saying I was beautiful, though he’d done so before. This moment felt like a forever-thing, because he saw me when he looked in my eyes, and I’d always be that person, no matter how the years changed me. With that tender weight between us, we returned to the main hall. When the men saw we’d found hygiene facilities, they demanded directions. In twos and threes, they went off to tidy up as well before breaking bread—and I decided I hadn’t done such a bad job of leading by example. A girl could do worse than inspiring soldiers to bathe. Fade and I ate dry meat and stale bread, typical of road food. As I washed it down with tepid water, I imagined a roast goose like Momma Oakes used to make in Salvation with all the trimmings: creamy sweet potatoes swimming in butter and honey, brown bread, green beans, and berries in cream.
“You look like you’re in pain,” Stalker said.
His face was drawn, eyes shadowed in the flickering light. The death of his teammate weighed on him, I suspected. We’d lost a lot of good men in the summer patrols as well, but it was different when you had the charge of them. Instead of a bad turn in battle, it felt like a personal failure.
“A little.” I told them both what I’d been envisioning, and Fade groaned.
“You delight in cruelty.” There was a sweetness in his teasing that I hadn’t seen in so long, like he was before, when it was just him and me against the world.
Stalker turned to Fade with a polite expression. It sat oddly on his scarred features, like a hat tailored to another head. “I’d like to speak with Deuce in private, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“It’s not up to me,” Fade answered.
Stalker nodded. “It’s not personal, if you’re worried about that. I have no intention of causing any trouble between the two of you. I just need a word.”
Part of me felt aggravated that he’d asked Fade, like he was in charge of who got to talk to me. But the rest appreciated the gesture, thereby acknowledging that Stalker understood how things stood between Fade and me. I ignored those conflicting reactions and accompanied him all the way to the door. That seemed like an excessive precaution, if he feared somebody eavesdropping. The men were all seeing to their own needs.
He took a deep breath. “There are a few things I need to say, if you’ll hear me out.”
“Go ahead.”
He folded his arms, but not in a defensive way, more like he needed a hug, and there was nobody to give him one. I didn’t move. Touch was a precious gift, and I didn’t offer it freely. The distance between us came for good reason, as he didn’t seem to be able to separate the quiet warmth of a friend as opposed to the way I reacted to Fade, who had exclusive kissing rights.
“In the gang, if I made up my mind to do something, it happened. And I started believing there was no obstacle I couldn’t overcome, nobody I couldn’t turn to my will.”
“If nobody ever gainsaid you, I understand how that could happen.” I was less sure what that had to do with me, but I trusted that he’d get to it.
“So when I met you … and I wanted you, I figured it was only a matter of time until I changed your mind. I didn’t factor your thoughts or desires into it. At first, you were more a prize to me than a person.” He took a deep breath. “I apologize for that. And when I realized you were never going to return my feelings, I didn’t take it well. I’m not a good loser.”
“Few people enjoy it,” I said dryly.
“My point being, I’d like to accept your offer of friendship, if it’s still open. I’ll talk to Fade, make it plain I don’t intend to get in his way. I get why he doesn’t like me. He has reason.”
“I’d like that.” All of it. I’d never wanted any competition between them.
“The next thing is, I need you to lock up after I leave.”
I tensed. That sounded like good-bye. “Why?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back. I just need to rove for a while. I can’t sleep tonight.”
I nodded, guessing the loss of a man under his command was bothering him. He probably thought if he had been faster or smarter, he could’ve saved the scout. But Longshot’s death had taught me that sometimes you couldn’t, no matter how much you wanted to, because other people made their own choices, however little you liked them. Sometimes they were brave and heroic; other times, it was just stupidity, and those losses were the hardest to bear.
“Be careful,” I said.
“I will.” Stalker unfastened the bolts and chains and strode into the dark.
Recovery
I slept poorly that night.
The conversation with Stalker plagued me. I expected to hear a tap on the door at any moment during the night, so I lay awake listening for it, but it never came. I snatched my rest in fitful bursts, but I roused with everyone else, took my turn washing up, and then I went out to see what Winterville looked like. The men followed me, something that struck me as odd, though it was what I’d wanted. In the daylight, the damage was apparent, but it seemed as if it could be readily repaired. Dr. Wilson joined us, shading his eyes as if he rarely saw sunlight. Since most of his work took place in the lab, that might be true.
“There’s a bell four blocks that way,” he said, “at the church. It’s the building with the point on top. If you ring it, the townsfolk will know it’s safe.”
I was ready to put this grim and broken town behind us, but I’d told the men we’d help with the cleanup, and despite my desire to move on, I’d keep that promise. One day spent in repair and recovery wouldn’t cost us the war.
“This way,” I said, following Wilson’s directions.
As we moved off, he went back inside. Tegan fell into step with me. “Where’s Stalker?”
“He’s taking Hammond’s death hard.”
From the ground, I could see the bell, but it required me to go inside the church. I left the bulk of my men outside, taking only Fade with me. The damage seemed especially wrong in here; the wood was scarred with countless scratches, more blood and excrement from the feral humans who had squatted here. It smelled rank, like death and rot; I covered my mouth as we moved through the shadowy interior to the stairs on the right. They were steep and skeletal, leading up to a narrow tower where the bell hung. Fade pulled the rope and the peal rang out, echoing to all corners of town.
“It’s worse,” he said. “Knowing that people caused all this destruction.”
The cause and effect haunted me. Long ago, people feared one another, so they invented terrible things, capable of creating monsters. Then the monsters killed so many of the people that we were in danger of dying out. So once again, we devised something awful, trying to drive off the beasts. It was like an unbreakable cycle, and it exhausted me, made me wonder if I was mad for thinking I could make a difference. I preferred to imagine I’d survived the long walk to serve some purpose, but the world might not operate like that. Maybe there were no reasons why, just an endless chain of bad and worse, leavened by occasional brightness.
“Yes. It is.”
Fade laced our fingers together as we left the church. Sometimes it felt as if he could sense when my heart hit its lowest ebb, then the smallest sign from him, and it sailed away again, soaring on the wind like a bird. The lightness couldn’t last, of course, with the dire nature of the task ahead of us, but it was enough to keep me from seeing only the dark.
The citizens of Winterville emerged from their homes slowly, careful as squirrels. An elderly woman asked, “Who do we have to thank for our salvation?”
“Company D!” the men replied as one.
A ragged cheer rose up. In their wan and tired faces, I glimpsed true adulation. I’d seen it a few times down below in the faces of brats who dearly wanted my approval. Several men and women clasped my hands, kissed them, even, and I glanced at Fade in confusion. He lifted a shoulder, fending off the worshipful attention, but not in a way that made me fear he was about to panic and attack them. He only looked puzzled.
“Enough,” I said. “There’s a lot of work to do. Who’s in charge here?”
A couple pushed to the front of the crowd; they looked to be of an age with the Oakses, lined but not incapable. “I’m the mayor, Agnes Meriwether, and this is my husband, Lem.”
“Do you intend to punish Dr. Wilson?” I asked.
She looked as if I’d suggested murdering a child. “Why? He only did as we implored. For years, we had no need to defend ourselves. The Muties were different then. They didn’t band together like they do now … and we could handle the odd scavenger. It was no different from running off a rabid wolf. But in the last year or so, things have gotten much worse. We didn’t have any trained men or many weapons. So we thought science might offer a solution.”
“From what I’ve seen,” Tegan said soberly, “you can’t have both fast and safe. It just isn’t possible.”
“We know that now. I should’ve listened when Dr. Wilson warned me that it wouldn’t end well. But it worked at first. The Mutie bands just veered away, but then people started going mad. Fourteen people died while we were rounding them up—”
“There’s a prison camp in the south,” Morrow said to me, low. “Barbaric. It would’ve been kinder just to kill them.”
“That’s what I said,” Lem put in.
Agnes seemed genuinely tormented. “I couldn’t bear for so many people to die, if there was any way to prevent it. I asked Dr. Wilson to devise a treatment.”
I nodded. “But he couldn’t. And the temporary prison didn’t hold.”
“I don’t want this responsibility,” she said softly. “I’ve made too many mistakes.”
A woman called from the crowd, “If you think we’re cleaning up your mess, you’re out of your mind, Mrs. Meriwether. You put this town to rights.”
I cut off the argument with an impatient gesture. Once we left, I didn’t care who held office. My objective was to restore Winterville to some semblance of order. So I divided us into teams as I had the day before, only this time we were hauling bodies. It seemed disrespectful to burn them as we had done the Freak corpses, so I set five men to digging a mass grave. That wasn’t a whole lot better, but it would take too long to dig so many separate ones. Down below, we’d have fed them to the Freaks, but I’d come to understand that was wrong, and Topside, it would attract scavengers.
I labored alongside everyone else, dragging bloody burdens out of buildings to where they could receive a decent burial. By noon, my back and arms were aching; it was the grimmest work I’d ever done. Only Tegan tackled other tasks; she checked the townsfolk over and helped those she could. I saw her frustration when she encountered illness or injuries she didn’t know how to treat. Guilt blazed like a signal fire in her eyes; she thought if Doc Tuttle had lived instead, he’d be of more use.
Once we finished moving the bodies, they fetched us shovels, and everyone pitched in to plant the dead. When I first heard of this custom, it gave me nightmares because it seemed so similar to putting seeds in the ground; and my sleeping mind conjured all kinds of horrific plants that might sprout from a corpse. It was silent work, raking dark soil over the faces of the dead. I heard only the rasp of the shovels and rakes and the breath of those who labored beside me. Black and still, the freshly dug mound rose up from the grass surrounding it. There should be some marker to commemorate the tragedy, but maybe the memory of the people who had loved and lost would do the job instead. Then the men of Winterville came with wood and stone, nails and hammers, and they built a monument. I rested in the shade nearby, weary in body and soul. Once the noise quieted, Mrs. Meriwether fetched the minister, who had a holy book similar, but not identical, to the one Caroline Bigwater read from when she disapproved of someone.
I gathered along with everyone else. These words were soft, and they slid like silk from the holy man’s mouth. “‘For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted. Weep no more, my children. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.’”
After the service ended, the people of Winterville swallowed their tears, pretending their loved ones had gone to a better place. I didn’t know the truth, so maybe they were right. Company D stood silent and respectful through the completion of their rites, then the men gathered around me. It was late in the day by then, and while I didn’t especially want to spend another night here, I didn’t think it was wise to leave the protective perimeter with dark coming on. The pheromones—though they drove part of the town crazy—still seemed to be functioning as a deterrent to the Freaks. So we could rest safely here, I imagined. Before I could announce the decision, however, Mrs. Meriwether stepped toward me.
I met her halfway, brow arched in inquiry. “Something else, ma’am?”
“We’d like to thank you. At the moment, we don’t have much, but it’s customary to share a meal in honor of the deceased. We cook their favorite foods, talk about good times, and remember them kindly.” She lifted a plump shoulder. “It might be a silly tradition, but it comforts people, and supposedly it allows the spirit to move on, like a rite of passage.”
After so much death, it seemed wise to pacify the spirits. I wasn’t convinced such things existed, but if they did, it would be bad for feral souls to stick around. They’d soon drive the survivors mad.
So I nodded. “We’d be honored to share a meal with you tonight.”
The houses were too small to host so many people; there was no mess hall like they had in Soldier’s Pond, so they made do in the town square. People carried out what they had left in their cupboards, and men and women shared the cooking; a good idea, I thought. Soon, there was meat roasting in multiple fires, vegetables bubbling, and sweets being stirred in pots. Other townsfolk went about the business of removing all signs of the bloodbath from the day before. Stern-faced, weary men worked with rags and buckets. For a time, those labors made people forget the high cost of survival.
What will they do with the makeshift prison they built to house the afflicted? And why didn’t they just confine them in their houses? It was possible they tried that and that measure failed. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, breathing in the savory smells. Belatedly, I realized I was starving. Dry meat and bread had been the norm on the way, and I’d pushed the men hard. I’d feared we would arrive too late, but now I could relax a little. The crisis was past.
Someone sat down beside me, then I recognized Tegan’s voice. “Do you think things will ever be the same here?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly.
“Where are we headed in the morning?”
I had been thinking about that a lot. “We’ll try our luck nearby, see if our success in the fall was enough to change people’s minds.”
“Good idea.”
As the cooks finished up the evening meal, a trading party arrived from Lorraine—and that seemed like a sign. They were grizzled men with permanently sun-browned skin and silver beards. Their easy manners reminded me of Longshot, and a hole opened up inside me. I’d lost people before, but never like that. Nobody ever thought so much of me that he’d die so I could live, and I was finding it hard to carry that gift, as there was no way of repaying him.
“What happened here?” the lead driver asked, for it was obvious the town was recovering from an attack.
“Private dispute,” Mrs. Meriwether told him.
“Not Muties?” the man demanded. “There’s a huge mess of them over in Appleton. The whole town’s overrun.”
The woman blanched but she shook her head. “So far, we’ve seen nothing of them.”
“I wouldn’t fret. I hear there’s an army on the march. I had word on the trail from John Kelley. These soldiers killed about a thousand mutants out past Soldier’s Pond.”
The trader’s comment put a smile on my face. As promised, the trapper was spreading word about—and exaggerating—our great deeds. I didn’t know how much his stories would help, but they were entertaining, anyway.
Agnes Meriwether opened her eyes wide. “Is that so? Well, there will be a party tonight, so you’ve arrived in time for some good eating.”
“Thanks kindly. We’re all hungry enough to eat a raw bear.”
A nascent strategy solidified in my mind as I listened to their polite talk; the wagons were heavy with goods that Winterville desperately needed. With luck, the citizens could find things of value to offer in return, despite the circumstances. The townsfolk hurried off to gather scattered items to offer in exchange for fresh supplies. Longshot had told me that men traveled the trade runs during spring and fall, so we could expect to see more caravans, more targets for the Freaks too.
I sought Fade out to ask his opinion. He was sprawled beneath a flowering tree, its white blossoms sweet in the cool air. Even dirty and tired, he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
“You look like there’s something on your mind.”
I nodded, dropping down beside him. “I was thinking that we should guard the trade routes. The fastest way to endear ourselves to the people in the remaining towns is to keep their economies thriving.”
“You reckon that’ll make them feel indebted, more likely to send men to bolster our numbers?”
“I hope so. It’s the only idea I have left.” Beyond securing more ground for Soldier’s Pond, I couldn’t imagine how our squad could make a difference against the horde.
“It’s solid,” he agreed.
“We have to add to Company D … or the minute the Freaks abandon Appleton, they’ll roll right over the next town.”
By proximity, Lorraine had the most to worry about, as the settlement was only four days away. A big group might take longer to arrive, but not long enough for the citizens to evacuate, and besides, where would they go? Urgency clutched at me with hot, sharp fingers, but there was nothing I could do at the moment. That didn’t sit well at all.
Fade braced and reached for me then. It seemed to me that it got easier each time he did it, more natural. I hoped the day would come when he could do it without needing that mental pause, where touching me was the easiest and best thing in the world. “Try not to worry. For the moment, we’re safe and we’re together. Let that be enough.”
That was more than enough; it was everything.
Defense
Stalker returned late that night, well after they set out the food. He caught my eye and nodded, letting me know he’d dealt with his grief. I was glad to have him back. After that silent exchange, he fixed a plate and joined the rest of his scouts. The town square was a cheerful place, lit by the electric lights that Wilson had explained in such tedious detail, plus the merry crackle of multiple fires.
By that time, everyone else had eaten. There were jugs of strong-smelling drink that made the townsfolk laugh and fall down a lot; I quietly instructed my men to stay away from it. Around that time, a Lorraine trader produced a fiddle, and I wondered if the Winterville citizens found the music improper for a night that was supposed to be about showing respect for the dead, but nobody protested. The notes sang out like silver light, until people’s feet were tapping. Soon, dancing began, a whirl of feet and legs. The impromptu performance seemed to enliven Stalker further and he coaxed a local girl into dancing with him. Later, he stole a kiss from Tully, which made Spence try to plant a boot in his arse. Laughing, Stalker went back to his Winterville conquest. It was good to see him in high spirits, after the knock he’d taken earlier.
As the liquor flowed, stories tumbled out one after another. Many of them had the magical quality of the one Morrow had told about the boy who lived in the cupboard. I had a hard time listening to all of them, but the storyteller was in his element. Now and then I caught him scribbling frantically to be sure he didn’t miss any of the details.
Tegan sat with Dr. Wilson, pestering him with questions, but rather than being annoyed, he seemed pleased by her interest. The scientist had endless patience for her curiosity, even if I didn’t understand half the things he was telling her. She glowed by firelight, looking at Wilson as if he were the greatest present she ever got, even without the fancy wrapping. I laughed quietly, and Fade tightened his arm around my shoulders. Moments like these were few and far between.
“Do you ever wonder what happened down below after we left?” he asked, surprising me.
“All the time. I wish there was some way for us to find out.” But we had come so far, not just in actual distance. I might even be frightened to go back down into darkness, fearing it would choose to keep me this time and not let me go back into the light.
“Me too. I know you had friends you left behind.”
“Not very good ones, as it turns out. They believed the worst of me awfully fast.” That was an old wound, one I’d hardly acknowledged.
“I’m sure they had their reasons,” Fade said.
I gave a bitter laugh. “They trusted the elders, like I did before you got inside my head.”
“Are you sorry about that?”
“How can you even ask? My life is so much better because you’re in it—and not just because we went Topside.”
He gave me a crooked smile, and his gaze lingered on my lips. “It’s nice to hear.”
I winced, taking that as a criticism. Deep down I knew I wasn’t the best at talking about my feelings, and Fade probably needed to hear how important he was to me, as much as I could express it. “I’ll try to be a better partner.”
“You’re spot on with the killing,” he told me, smiling.
That was a quiet nod at our time together down below when I was completely oblivious to the fact that he wanted to be more than my hunting mate. My cheeks heated. “I’ll work on the talking.”
The fact that my private thoughts mattered to him meant more than he knew. As I struggled to find the words to express them, the lights went out overhead. The fiddler paused his tune as the night darkened, leaving only the fires crackling. People quieted also, as if they remembered all too well how dangerous nights filled with monsters could be.
“I’m sure it’s just a malfunction in the wires,” Dr. Wilson said. “Or possibly the windmill that powers this part of town has broken down.”
A dozen slurred voices added their opinions, but I recognized the prickle crawling over my bare arms. I signaled my men, and Company D was on its feet, ready for battle in less than thirty seconds. I spun until I located Stalker, but he was already coming toward me. He recognized this as his area of expertise.
“Will you see what’s going on?” I asked, low. “But don’t engage. We need intel.”
This time, he took none of his scouts, heading off at a silent run. He moved with all the grace of a creature born in the wild, and within seconds, he vanished into the shadows. The party mood was gone, and the Winterville folk started packing up the food, hurrying toward the houses where they had hidden for days already. Most still had barricades for the windows and doors; I hoped they wouldn’t need them tonight.
Mrs. Meriwether darted toward Dr. Wilson. In the confusion, she thought nobody was paying attention, but I craned my ears to catch every word. “I thought we were safe. You made enough of that spray to treat the whole town.”
His tired reply was unmistakable. “It doesn’t last forever, Agnes, and Timothy is gone. I can’t make more without him since the extract came from his reproductive glands.”
“So we’re defenseless?” Her horror was palpable. “I killed all those people for nothing.”
I bit out a curse. The chances were good that we had Freaks in the windmills, destroying them. They might not understand what purpose they served, but they hated all human technology. They’d wreck these machines for the same reason they’d dug up our crops—because they thought it would weaken us in some fashion. And in most cases, they were right.
I didn’t wonder long. Stalker came at a run, winded, which meant he’d pushed himself. He gasped out, “Freaks. At least a hundred, coming in from the east.” As he caught his breath, he added, “I suspect they trailed the Lorraine traders. Not sure why the pheromones aren’t discouraging them.”
“It washes away,” I said. “It’s not forever. And Dr. Wilson can’t make more.”
“They won’t fight.” Fade was watching the townsfolk move in full retreat, preparing to cower inside their homes.
But barred windows and doors wouldn’t deter a hundred intelligent Freaks. They’d use fire or some other strategy to take this town, and it wouldn’t even require the rest of the horde, unless we did something about it.
“This will be a tough fight,” I said softly.
Stalker nodded. “At night, against superior numbers? It’ll cost us.”
“I know. But the alternative is to leave Winterville to its fate.” Under no circumstances could I give those orders. If the rest of Company D abandoned the town, I couldn’t go. It might be the practical decision—one a Huntress would make—but I couldn’t save these people from the feral humans, only to let them die.
“Men!” I called.
They surrounded me at full attention, row by row, and I recalled that was the style in Soldier’s Pond. I didn’t usually require it, but the occasion merited formality, I supposed.
I had no fancy words, but I gave them what I knew. “It’ll be a rough night, our first big battle of the season ahead. Who wants to kill some Muties?”
“Company D,” they called back.
Not a single voice remained silent; they all shouted their intentions to the skies. If they died tonight, they’d go out as Hunters, one and all.
I squared my shoulders. “Then we need a plan.”
Fade turned in a slow circle, assessing the houses and the open terrain of the town square. “I think we can win. But we need to draw them here.”
“Count on my scouts for that,” Stalker said.
I thought I understood Fade’s plan. “Spence and Tully, I need you on those rooftops. I want constant fire from you until you run out of ammunition.”
“You’re them,” one of the Lorraine traders said in wonder. “Company D.”
I hadn’t noticed their approach, but it made sense they’d be here since they didn’t have houses to hide in, and the wagons offered limited cover. The lead driver wore a rifle on his back as Longshot had, and I wondered if he was any good with it. He seemed to read my thought—or maybe my look—because he drew it and held it like a man who knew which way to point it.
“We are,” I acknowledged. “But I don’t have time for introductions at the moment.”
I expected some disparaging remarks about my gender or my age, but to my surprise, the rifleman said, “Put us on a rooftop. We’ll fight with you.”
A boy crept out of the shadows then, hardly more than a brat. He was dirty and thin, eyes too big for his face. He reminded me so much of the white-eyed brat from down below that my stomach cramped. A weapon too big for him to lift came behind him, leaving trails in the dirt.
“I can shoot,” he said.
I saw the words forming on a trader’s lips, You can’t even lift that thing, son, so I cut him off. “How?”
“I can brace it. My dad taught me … before he died.” There was a wealth of sorrow and anger in those words.
“Where’s your mum?” Fade asked.
The brat lifted his chin. “Gone. You poured dirt on them both earlier today.”
Guilt flickered through me; I hadn’t even noticed him among the other mourners. Above the boy’s head, Fade caught my eyes, and I nodded. We’d take this chance to do the right thing.
“Go with the traders. I want you posted over there.” I indicated the tower where Fade had rung the bell. “Spence and Tully on the other side.” That structure wasn’t quite as tall, but it had a nice perch on the roof. “Barricade the door if you can, so they can’t get at you. The rest, stay with me. Remember our drills.” I planted the banner Momma had made in the ground, then told my men grimly, “Guard the flag with your lives. Don’t let them inside our line.”
“You heard the woman,” the lead driver snapped. “Move.”
Woman. That word felt as precious as my naming day; and maybe it was the first time Topside that anyone had looked at me and seen more than a silly girl. That man couldn’t see my scars and he didn’t know my story. He only knew what my actions told him, and apparently they said I was grown. But I had no time to savor the sensation.
Stalker’s scouts came at a run with what seemed like a thousand Freaks charging behind them. I shuddered, remembering my mad flight with Fade through the horde. It had to be worse for him, but he was steady as a rock at my side. All around us, Company D readied their weapons. I drew my knives five seconds before the Freaks hit us like a hammer—and we stood our ground, shoulder to shoulder, as lead slammed into the monsters from above.
Bodies jerked and fell all around me. I stabbed and slashed, my usual style forestalled by the need to protect Fade on my left and Sands, who had staggered in on my right. Tegan fought between Stalker and Morrow, her staff knocking them down for other soldiers to finish. She didn’t like to kill, but the girl had gotten deadly about defending herself. I held formation and turned my attention back to the next Freak charging toward me.
It snapped yellow fangs in visible threat. “Our land. Not yours.”
“You’ll have to take it,” I growled, just before I plunged my dagger into its chest.
Fade knocked one away from me and cut its throat. He too was all efficiency, keeping them off me as well as the soldier on his other side. We fought as a unit, not as separate Hunters, and it felt good when the enemy fell in droves around us. The night air chilled my skin but sweat warmed it up again. I sliced like the threshing blade we’d used in the fields. The Freaks were ferocious, but they couldn’t fathom the way we wouldn’t yield, not even a single step. They couldn’t surround us, couldn’t use their usual tactics. These creatures fought like pack animals, three or four on one victim, who usually went down to the overwhelming blood loss, not due to any particular skill. They were less organized than the ones who offered us the truce near Soldier’s Pond … and that made me think these were associated with the horde, possibly a vanguard. I risked a kick, though it pulled me forward a few steps, then someone from the church tower shot the thing, and Fade pulled me back.
“Careful,” he scolded.
“Sorry.”