Campaign
In addition to provisions, boots, and uniforms, we picked up forty more men, including Rex, before we left Soldier’s Pond. I heard her advisors haranguing Colonel Park as we marched past HQ, but there was nothing they could do, short of rummaging through each man’s pack.
This time, I was better equipped to provide for so many men and with warmer weather and better forage, the soldiers should stay healthy longer.
It hit me hard that I didn’t have Stalker as my scout leader anymore. He had handpicked the scouts according to some private criteria, and I missed his expertise. Morrow did his best, but he lacked my friend’s instincts. Their information was critical, however, so we all had to press on. I remembered what Colonel Park had said to me about structure, now that we were substantially larger than twelve men.
“Hold up. Tegan, Fade, Tully, Spence, Morrow, Thornton!” I called their names as soon as we left town, and they came over to see what I needed.
“I’ve looked to all of you repeatedly. It’s time to make it official. I talked to the colonel about rankings and she said a company as large as ours needs command infrastructure, so the men know who to talk to and who’s in charge.”
Thornton nodded. “I wondered when you would get around to it.”
“You didn’t see the need to clue me in?”
“Nope.”
I laughed. Though he was bigger and blunter than Longshot had been, sometimes Thornton reminded me of him. “You’re staff sergeant, and I’m putting you in charge of provisions. If we need something, let me know. If you see a soldier going without or who’s not taking care of his gear, tell me that too.”
“Does this mean I get to scream when I see infractions?”
“Yep,” I said, mimicking his delivery.
He actually cracked a smile. “Then thank you for that.”
“Tegan, I’m officially making you company medic. Keep an eye on the soldiers because they may not come forward if they’re feeling off. I know it’s a lot to ask because there’s so many of us now—”
“Do I get a fancy title?” she cut in pertly.
“Doc Tegan isn’t enough?”
She smiled. “No, it’ll do. And it’s nice to have my talents recognized.”
“I’m told I need a squad leader for every thirty men.” At that point, I looked at Fade, Tully, and Spence. “I’m dividing the men up between the three of you. You have more like sixty men each at this point, but we’ll have to make do.”
“You’re not taking a squad?” Tully asked.
I shook my head. “The colonel tells me that the captain—or whatever I am—has to be apart from keeping the peace like you three will. Should I have them count off?”
I studied the men standing in formation. At last, we looked like a proper army, no longer ragtag or mismatched, and with Gavin flying our banner proudly at the front of the column, a tremor of pride ran through me. Momma Oaks made this possible; she sewed until her fingers bled to get the uniforms done fast enough … because it was my dream. These men weren’t bound to any town; they all shared a single cause—to defeat the Freaks or die trying.
I did this.
I didn’t quit.
And I will not fail.
“That would be easiest,” Tully said, responding to my question.
I shouted for the men to sound off in threes. Once they finished, I called, “Squad one, if you need anything, see Fade. He is the boss of you. Any problems he can’t handle will be brought to me, and you do not want that.” Not a single soldier snickered, probably because I was borrowing Momma Oaks’s sternest voice. “Squad two, you’re with Tully. Threes, look to Spence. If we separate for any reason, these are the leaders you follow. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
“If you forget your number, you’ll dig latrines, even if we don’t need them. Questions?”
“No, sir!”
“Then let’s move out.”
* * *
Thus commenced the summer of blood. We fought Freaks from the other side of the forest all the way to Gaspard and back again. The men were brave, even the inexperienced ones. The battles ran together, day after day, while we kept the trade routes clear. Company D got proficient at packing up their gear to move on to the next fight; the last time, it took less than two minutes and I was counting.
Now and then I caught Rex eyeing me but I couldn’t read his expression. I treated him like everyone else, but I was happy to see him in one piece as time wore on. As for me, I had new scars and healing wounds, bruises on bruises from sleeping on the hard ground. I had seldom been so weary, but the Freaks never seemed to run out of bodies to throw at us. Each night, I dreamed of bloodshed and violence, of Freaks pillaging Soldier’s Pond, as they had Salvation and Appleton. We kept the wagons moving, but accomplished little else because the horde wasn’t stirring. Instead, they sent out hunting parties to test our abilities … and the survivors fled to report back with our scouts nipping at their heels.
The impasse made me nervous.
The days were hot and sticky; flies buzzed around the fields full of their dead. We burned the monsters when we could and left them to rot otherwise. I wished I could dream of Morrow’s stories about Rosemere, but my mind was a dark and awful place. Sometimes it seemed that the killing would never end, and because they could breed faster, reach fighting age sooner, I didn’t see a happy ending.
My naming day came and went unnoticed. This year, there were no sweets or presents, no party. Instead, I stood knee-deep in mud with a summer storm bearing down. The sky was all snaps of lightning, booming thunder, while my feet slid beneath me. It was hard to fight, tough to see with the rain sluicing through my plaits and into my eyes. But the weather didn’t deter the Freaks, so we stood our ground. This was the biggest hunting party yet, close to our number, and it horrified me that the enemy could send so many while the bulk of the horde squatted in Appleton. It seemed like such a horrendous waste, but maybe the monsters had some plan my human brain couldn’t fathom.
And that possibility scared the devil out of me.
I stabbed another, then another, its blood spilling away into the rain. My hands were cold, clumsy, and I lost my grip on the wet dagger. It sank into the mud; and I couldn’t kick with the earth sucking at my boots. Fade slid in with a smooth strike, saving me, and I lifted my head in a weary, silent thank-you. He dug out my dagger and we pushed forward to help the rest of the men, all bogged down and stumbling.
We lost sixteen soldiers that day.
For the sake of my men, I hid my despair over those deaths … and the increasing intelligence of our enemy. Because we were winning our fights, mostly, Company D’s spirits stayed fairly high as summer crept toward fall in a haze of multiple engagements. In the end, the scouts brought us dismal tidings as the days cooled again. The air was sweet with the scent of ripening apples; I had people in the trees, picking as many as they could carry. The last battle was two days behind us, and the men were ready to go again.
Sands delivered the worrisome news. “There’s movement in Appleton at last. I think the horde’s decided to engage.”
So while we fought like mad to hold our ground, they’d rested, fattened up, and tested our strength. Now they knew our strategies and were ready to crush us. And I was … out of ideas. I’d done everything I could think of to recruit enough men to face the monsters, and at the current count, we had slightly less than two hundred with recent losses. Even when Company D won, soldiers lost their lives.
“Then we have to pick the battlefield,” I said.
We set up camp by the river. We had come a fair ways west of Soldier’s Pond, and I checked the maps, locating landmarks we’d passed. Appleton lay to the southeast; if we marched toward the horde, there was forest we could use for cover, but it would be impossible to hide two hundred men as we’d done on a smaller scale. Therefore, that tactic wouldn’t work again. According to the routes, we were nearly to the Evergreen Isle. I tapped a finger against the paper, staring at it. There had to be a way to use the river against the horde.
Fade sat down beside me, looking as tired as I felt. Despite better provisions and good boots, life in the field took its toll, even in fair weather. He had to be tired of the lack of privacy and poor sanitary facilities, though men had it easier in a number of regards. Tully, Tegan, and I had complained more than once about how much more work it was for us while the male soldiers could urinate against a tree—and often did.
“Planning our next onslaught?” he asked with a half-smile.
There had been so little time to be with him … and I missed it. I ached from top to toes to be a girl as I had been in Salvation, all softness and smiles. For the first time in my life, I imagined hanging up my daggers in a place like Rosemere. I’d never seen it, but the way Morrow described it made me long to experience that peace for myself.
“I wish I could,” I said tiredly. I repeated what the scout had told me.
Fade laced our fingers together, and I remembered when that gesture required a mental pause. “You’ve done so much with relatively little.”
“It’s not enough. If we can’t break them, then it won’t matter what we’ve achieved.”
“Call the rest of the officers. Let’s figure it out over dinner.”
I bit back a sharp retort. There was no solution. The horde had too many for us to count, and even with our best fighters, they’d overwhelm us. I might be able to kill four or five, but the new men couldn’t. Once our boys started dying, others might break and run. So far, the battles had been against equal numbers, a tactic I suspected had been employed so the Freaks could inform their elders how we reacted. Or maybe their children. It made sense that young ones might be in power, devising strategies, while the elders served as grunts. If that was the case, then we could expect smarter countermoves in the future. This insight sank my spirits further.
But I couldn’t just ponder our inevitable defeat, so I invited the others to join us. They brought their stew, thickened with powdered hardtack, and gave us inquiring looks. In a few words, I shared all the details of the latest report. Part of me hoped they were smarter than me—Tegan definitely was … and probably Morrow; they might offer immediate suggestions.
Instead Morrow put down his plate and sighed. “Heroic stories aren’t supposed to end this way. The monsters never win.”
“No ideas?” Fade asked.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said.” I tilted my head at Morrow. “About how the Muties can’t swim. But I’m not sure how to use that.”
“We can’t fight in the river,” Tully said. “The current would drag us down too and make it hard to maneuver.”
“I wish there was a way to lure them into the water,” I muttered.
Spence grinned. “That would be a fantastic trick. But I don’t know if the river is big enough to drown that many monsters.”
“It would need to be the ocean,” Fade said.
“Somehow I doubt you’ll get the Muties to go along,” Tegan said.
Thornton had been quiet all this time. When he finally spoke, I hoped it meant he had something serious to contribute, as he wasn’t known for wasting words. “You might be onto something with that idea.”
“Drowning them?” I asked, doubtful.
“If we retreat to the big river to the west, we can fight with the water at our back. That means they can’t circle around behind us and if need be, we can swim for the island when they hit us in force.” He cut a look at Morrow, asking, “Would Rosemere welcome us? I know how your father feels about getting involved with outside affairs, but he’s never been known for turning away travelers.”
“Two hundred men is more than a few visitors,” Morrow said quietly.
“Your father runs Rosemere?” I asked.
“He’s the governor,” the storyteller answered, looking uncomfortable.
“Of the town?” Tegan looked fascinated.
“The whole island, but Rosemere is the only settlement.”
I pored over the map a second time, letting my dinner get cold and finally said, “I can’t find better terrain to face them. Water at our back is the best we can do.”
Tegan nodded. “I’ll go ask the men if they know how to swim.”