“Fuck!” Jay screamed as a volley of javelins buried themselves into her shelter. Glass and wood splinters exploded outwards, raining down on the people below.
The siren that loudly blared was cut out by frequent volleys of rifle fire. The barrel lightly glowed through the twilight as heat built up. Its only respite was Jay ripping away the magazine to reload the weapon. She’d switched shoulders to use her hook to pull the trigger as her functional hand quickly crammed bullets against the weathered springs of an empty mag.
She swiveled back and forth across the window sill, attempting to prevent flanking ash raiders from achieving a blow at the unlucky rookies’ sides. The occasional one that got too close was dispatched by the gray-haired lanky girl in the back who quickly responded to the ranged threats.
She’d realized she underestimated the new group, impressed by the way they’d anchored between two buildings to keep the onslaught in a choke. Nevertheless, the enemy’s numbers were seemingly limitless. They pushed forward endlessly; their strategy to overwhelm them with numbers.
It felt like hours since Felix pulled the alarm. She heard nothing through the radio; not like she could hear over the deafening roars of the savages.
There were plenty of people that could help in a desperate time like this. Jay knew a couple that owed her favors but they’d left on assignment. As it stood, they were completely on their own.
She briefly thought about running away and leaving the rookies to distract the hoard. If she ran fast enough, she could get back to her stash, take what she could carry and get out the front gate before the ash people rose hell across the compound.
An axe buried itself into her cover, raining dust onto her hair and neck. She shivered and snapped out of her daze, “That animal… I won’t give her the pleasure of hunting me,” a bullet blazed away from her smoking rifle and tore its way through the stomach of a charging brute. It fell behind Stitches and another shot splattered its brains onto his legs.
He briefly turned to look but then returned his gaze forward. As he shot another psycho that attempted to rush him, the slide on his pistol stuck back. He arced lighting across 2 more who attempted a charge and sent the magazine to the floor before replacing it with his backup.
“Dammit!” He sent the pistol back into its holster and used both hands to finish the convulsing raiders in front of him.
I’m using too much ammo. If this keeps up, they’ll just run right over us, he thought.
Sparks flashed from his fingertips as he pushed back the approaching hoard, hungry for his flesh.
This is a battle of attrition. Like that cat freak said, we lose once we run out of stamina. If we can just hold out-
His thoughts were interrupted as a branch splintered across his forearm guard. He quickly grabbed the arm attached and pulled the creatures spindly throat into his grip before cooking out its eyes with a branching arc. He tossed away its twitching body and shook the burning sensation from his hand, returning his attention to the column of marauders.
Saul’s knuckles turned white as his grip on the shield tightened. His forearms bulged against the belts of his armor while cramps sent painful needles up his arms.
In front of him, a large ash warrior wearing a rotting mangled skin, mercilessly smashed a large metal pole into his defensive stance. He felt his toes bury themselves into the dust as his legs pushed back with all their might.
He braced his core even harder and his shoulders burned as he struck forward with the shield sending the metal pole above the ash man’s head along with his guard. He thrust forward and plunged the sword into his chest. The edges bit into the bones of his ribs and broke them as he yanked it away. His second sword swung outwards to block an opportunistic strike from a raider behind it.
From his left he felt a raider attempting to push its way around his guard. He stepped in pulling back his shield before bashing into it, sending it screaming to the ground to be caught by Stitches electricity.
From his right, two attackers rushed past his guard towards Angel. He swung his sword into the head of the first causing it to fall before bursting into black flames. He thrust towards the other with his 2nd sword who shrunk back to the line blocking his strike.
Besides the drool and spit that shot out from his gritted teeth as he exhaled, Saul’s face felt dry. His eyes that produced rivers of tears had sharpened, now peeled open and glossed over with adrenaline.
Stitches reply rang in his mind with every strike and block, propelling him ever onwards towards an unseen victory. ‘You are strong, why do you think I picked you? Get between those buildings and defend us like your life depends on it. No one else can do it, just you.’
A scream roared across Saul’s lips as he charged forward into the line of screeching creatures. His shield found its home buried in a snapping toothy face as weapons smashed against his sides. The armor dulled the pain as each blow bruised and battered his limbs.
They’d been pushed back farther and farther between the buildings as the onslaught continued. If the ash people succeeded at pushing through the choke, the group would be surrounded and the situation would dissolve into hopelessness.
Saul’s toes gripped at the ground underneath him while the muscles of his legs drove against the pile of dust. His hamstrings and glutes quivered; the numbing burn cut through by screaming agony. He forced his nausea down while his stomach braced against his held breath. His body shook; his painful arms felt broken, as powerful muscles tightened themselves around his bones.
His shield thrust forward against the stack, knocking the raiders in front of him off their feet. The ones that fell were quickly trampled by the ones behind them as they slammed back into Saul, furious at the progress they’d lost.
Saul stared into their gnashing teeth unable to perceive the screams. All he could hear was his heart thundering in his ears.
Witch took a breath as the line of snarling ash people in front of her were swallowed by flames. She shivered at the evil feeling crushing her chest. She wanted to vomit; the recoil of her dark conduit was beginning to become too much to handle. She held her sabre steady and readied herself for the next marauders that dare attack her.
As the last slivers of sunlight buried themselves under the horizon, the orange gleam of the blade was replaced by the dull color of bloody ash dripping down onto her hand.
Raiders jumped over her flames and rushed her. A bony one with mismatched arms struck down at her with a club. Witch pulled the handle to her chest before thrusting forward, catching the wood and pulling its blow past her side. As the branch landed on the ash behind her, the blade turned and beheaded the man through his screaming mouth.
She dashed forward raising her arm in front of her to protect her head. The psycho swung at her with a jagged metal plate tied to a piece of wood. She leapt away to the left, taking his bowels with her.
The savage in front of her taken off guard by her aggression raised his weapon to block a strike. Witch finished the slash, cutting through his fingers and then followed with a swing under his arms into his chest.
She turned back towards him to find her cut was too shallow and raised her hand to finish him. She cursed under her breath finding the pain too much to bear and instead swung down into his shoulder with both hands.
The blade became stuck and the gurgling raider began to wildly thrash at her, spraying blood into her face.
“Get… Off!” she screamed exhausted.
She spun him towards the fire and kicked him away into it.
The fire began to fade and she took a couple moments to catch her breath, resting her elbows on her knees. Her antennae flicked wildly at the air as she looked up to the snarling savages preparing to rush her.
“Shit,” she stood up and swung the blood off her sabre. Her technique was beginning to spiral away; it upset her to no end that her cuts were dulling even further.
She assumed stance and prepared once again to be attacked.
“Witch! Duck!” Angels voice cut across the noise.
She looked up and dodged too late. A javelin shattered across her arm, luckily hitting the armor. She screamed, crumpled in pain; her trembling arm pulled against her chest.
The ash people seeing their opportunity, jumped through her flames and charged her. She pushed herself back up with a sabre and sent a flurry of fire into them with her smaller arms. They continued to charge immolated, furiously roaring as they madly flailed for her.
She dodged away and partially deflected a swinging hammer that she caught in her thigh armor. Overcome by the recoil of the flames, her stomach twisted and she retched at the ground, leaning on the corner of the cold brick building.
She continued to dry heave before she managed to pull herself away. Tears streamed down her face, a bitter taste filling her mouth and nose. She spit and snarled taking her stance once again amongst the crackling bodies.
Angels eyes glared across the battle as yet another ash-soaked body prepared a javelin. Her drawn arrow centered on its target and she let it loose, slicing through the air and burying itself in the raiders eye. Its hand shot up and grabbed the arrow attempting to pull it out before its body crumpled to the ground.
Her ear twitched and her eyes darted to the left; Jay had missed one. She quickly nocked an arrow and flicked it back. The string straightened with a ‘thwish,’ sending an arrow into the attacker’s throat.
She turned back and once again had to fire an arrow into a ranged attacker. Her shoulders and back were burning, her fingers feeling numb. If not for the archery glove, she wouldn’t be able to continue.
She drew the bowstring once again and grunted as her arms shook with fatigue. Her arrow flew and landed in a javelin throwers chest. As she tired, she knew she’d have to start aiming for the safer vitals. She was losing accuracy and a miss would allow a javelin to fly into one of her friends.
She couldn’t accept failure anymore; Witch was lucky to dodge in time, but was now crippled because of her mistake. If the javelin had hit her on an unarmored portion she would’ve collapsed and quickly gone into shock.
Angel had studied her body thoroughly as she slept, she knew for sure that those bands wouldn’t hold out against a strike like that. In hindsight she should’ve corrected her against forgoing armor on her core, but her intimidating aura stayed her tongue. Worry overtook her and an arrow sunk into a throwers shoulder.
“No! Focus!”
A rock struck her in the cheek as a straggler rushed her from the right. A bullet tore through its collar bone but it continued to lunge towards her.
She spun and quickly fired an arrow into its chest.
It stepped unshaken and took one final leap at her swinging a knife through her throat. The slash passed through her like she was air, the psycho crashed into the ash confused.
Angel stomped on its back and jabbed her fingers into its skull, pulling them back out with some brain matter.
The man spasmed and seized up, his legs twitching and arms tightly curled against its chest.
Angel yanked out the arrow and reused it to interrupt another javelin thrower climbing on a roof. She sunk her fingers into her mouth to stop the bleeding and repair her broken teeth. Her eyes once again gazed across the battlefield to find the next raider attempting a ranged attack.
She was running low on arrows and had never perfected making complex structures out of flesh. This was a terrible time to let that stop her however. She grabbed the fallen ash creature and focused her mind, as her fingers phased through his chest. She wrapped her hand around a rib and began to pull it up, stretching an extending it as she molded it into a long bone spine.
When she finally held it in her hands it looked rather shoddy, but she sunk it into the dirt believing it could be used to deal with another straggler.
Stitches body felt like it was on fire. His exhausted muscles were one thing but his skin felt like it would actually bubble and melt off him if he continued to spray lighting across his enemies. Nevertheless, he bit his lip and sent an arc of lighting through the next group that rushed forward for him. They screeched and convulsed on the ground, their smoldering wounds smoking up the air around them.
Stitches screamed and buried his scalding hands into his stomach before letting out a frustrated groan and tearing them back out twitching in agony.
The pain sizzling up his arms felt like it would destroy him, but still he sent a blast into the next wave.
As he panted and sprayed slobber from his gritted teeth, his head clouded and he began blacking out. He took fast deep breaths and stomped the dirt in front of him to stable himself.
I have to take a break; I won’t be able to handle that again.
He pulled his pistol and knife from their holsters, forcing his trembling fingers to wrap them tightly. Blood seeped from his fists, the grips digging into his swollen flesh.
The crimson pooled and quickly sprayed into a red cloud as bullets exploded from the pistol barrel. His inaccurate shots tore through the human wall, quickly scrambled over by the next crazed attackers.
He tossed the pistol behind him and passed the knife over. He lunged forward and wildly stabbed away at their exposed flesh before they could ready themselves.
The ash men screamed and pulled away before being knocked aside by more vicious savages.
Stitches parried a blow with his forearm but caught another in the side of his ribs, forcing him to retreat.
A psycho frothed at the mouth charging forward, attempting to spear him with a sharpened pole.
He deflected it away and lunged forward into his guard, quickly stabbing him repeatedly. He slashed at his eyes before leaping back to avoid the furious blows of his companions.
He was quickly losing ground and so were his friends. He was backed up past the corner of the building. Any more and it would be lost.
“Dammit! Fine!”
Stitches gritted his teeth and took a breath planting his feet firmly into the dust beneath him.
“SUFFER” he roared as sparks flashed across his teeth.
The thunder from his hands almost deafened him as it tore across the charging raiders and devoured the approaching column behind them. Their bodies shattered into fiery shrapnel that scattered into the surrounding ash.
Stitches took a breath spitting bloody drool from his teeth. His foot stomped behind him to keep himself from falling but the vertigo was intense. His breath quickened, his vision faded and the smell of iron filled his nostrils. For a second it felt like he had a dream.
It just tingles now.
Angel screamed something at him he couldn’t understand.
A javelin drilled into his chest. The impact lifted him from the ground and his body limply collapsed into the ash behind him.
His eyes focused on his friends and he attempted pull himself up. It was no use. His body was simply too heavy, it felt like the javelin was pinning him to the dust.
Saul looked back but Witch yelled something and he turned his focus towards the murderous ash. She jumped behind him and screamed as black fire burst forth from her hands, creating a protective wall on both sides.
She crumpled to the ground clawing at her throat gasping for air before vomit erupted from her mouth. She choked and coughed as she aspirated bile in her desperate attempts to breath. Her eyes rolled back gushing tears as her neck began to bleed from the scratches.
Saul’s feet began inching back, his broken body unable to withstand anymore. His knee slammed into the ground from a strike and an arm reached over his shield to stab blindly at his shoulders.
In one final effort to hold back the hoard, he sheathed his swords and used all 4 arms to force the shield forward. He slammed it down into the ash and pushed his full strength against it. As strikes from above began to multiply he buried his head under his arm to keep the blows and stabs from reaching it.
“Hold on… I’m coming…” Stitches gurgled, managing to get onto his elbows. He tried to pull the javelin out but his fingers wouldn’t hold a grip. His chest wound sucked and spurted as his breathing quickened. It felt like he was suffocating; like something inside of him was expanding and crushing his lungs.
A warm embrace wrapped him from behind. His vision began to blur and his eyelids became heavy, the white strands of hair hanging in front of his face the last thing he’d see.
An angel came to take me to heaven.
Suddenly, breath filled his chest and he was brought back to reality. Angel’s panicked expression greeted his opening eyes. She removed her fingers from his chest and pulled away the javelin. Her fingers gripped the wound and the overwhelming pain seemed to go away.
He felt a pressure on his lower back and a burst of adrenaline shook through his entire body. A gasp brought him back to life and he rolled to his feet dashing towards Saul.
“Saul! Get ready! We’re running for the wall!”
He gave a thumbs up, confirming he heard him.
Stitches grabbed Witch’s trembling body and heaved it over his shoulders. She screamed through some vomit and kneed him in the face breaking his nose before going limp.
He blew blood from his nostrils and wrapped the leg in the crook of his arm holding it tightly.
“Angel! We’re going to climb the metal part! You have to make sure Saul can make it up!”
Stitches looked up towards the darkened attic, “If she points her rifle at us, kill her.”
Angel turned to look and squinted, “She left!”
“Shit! The flank! Saul! Let’s go!”
Saul jumped back from the shield and drew his swords running after him and Angel.
Stitches dashed forward to the wall. From his right, bloodthirsty raiders charged from around the building. He swung his arm and sent flashing sparks into their faces.
They screeched and ran blindly attempting to find them with their weapons.
Angel sent a volley of bone arrows into their bodies slowing them enough for the group to run past without injury.
Stiches jumped onto the spires next to the watchpost building, slipped off and then tried again with more effort. He steadily made progress up the steel posts. Saul came next and weakly tried to climb. Angel jabbed her fingers into his back and he began to shake with adrenaline, climbing up at a quicker pace. Angel hopped up and began to climb using the building to help push her way along.
Witch began to slip and Stitches quickly grabbed her wrist to pull her back up. She suddenly woke from her daze screaming and crying as she desperately wrenched away her broken arm. Her smaller arms pushed at his face and attempted to gauge his eyes.
“Dammit! Stop! Your slipping!”
“Don’t eat me! I’ll kill you!” Witch slammed an elbow into his ear and freed herself.
Stitches swung out his arm to catch her but she fell away, slamming into the ground.
She whimpered and pushed her head and elbow into the gravel behind her, gasping for breath.
The ash raiders leapt for her as Stitches jumped from the wall showering them with sparking arcs of lightning.
Saul followed and backed him up with his swords but they were quickly surrounded.
“Angel get her up!”
Saul and Stitches backed up to Angel who shakily attempted to mend Witch’s broken ribs.
The ash people slowly began to close in, their hungry drooling lips smiling at the prey they’d finally cornered. Their hateful eyes wanted to savor every last bit of their agony.
Stitches grunted painfully as lighting ignited in his palms. Saul shook the slack out of his arms; his swords held shakily as his fists readied themselves.
Suddenly from the right, gunfire stormed across the hoard as a rusty pick up charged through them. It skidded to a stop and the driver leaned out the window to use his rifle. The woman on the fixed gun in the back swiveled it quickly to scatter the panicking marauders. Their faces lit by the muzzle flashes; the driver called out to them.
Stitches and Saul quickly dispatched the distracted ash people between them and the truck.
“Took you fucking long enough!” Stitches yelled over the gunfire.
The driver screamed out over the fixed gun as he reloaded, “We can give you 200 shots! After that we gotta head to the next watch post!”
“The fuck do you mean ‘next watch post?!’”
“They’re hitting every wall on the compound! We only got one of these things!”
“Shit,” Stitches turned to his team, “We’ve gotta give it everything we’ve got right here! This is our only chance to win! One last push with those guns backing us up!”
Angel nodded, pulling Witch to her feet. Saul sharpened the blades against each other, the sight of victory filling his breaking body with vigor. Angel pressed her thumb into Witch’s back. She let out a quick squealing noise before drawing her broken sabre.
“Don’t do that without warning me first,” she blushed.
Angel smiled at her while retrieving her bow from her shoulder and nocked a bone arrow.
The roaring beast held their survival in its jaws as it thrashed about in every direction. The swarming panicked ash trampled each other as they desperately ran for safety. Their tormented victims would not allow them such luxuries as the stragglers were mercilessly maimed and cut apart.
When their blades broke down into nothing, they found the scrap weapons to be effective enough at slicing apart ash covered flesh. The few that managed to get closer to the buildings quickly found themselves impaled by sharpened bones.
The metamorphs’ bodies burned and screamed in agony, but the sweet sounds of the marauders distraught wailing drowned out the pain. They wanted more from their prey as they struck harder and harder. The ashed faces contorted in hysterical anguish weren’t enough to satisfy their bloodlust.
The drooling teeth of their attackers flashed in their minds angering them even further as they hacked away at the panicking mob. They would savor every last drop of blood they ripped from their bodies.
Soon, the gunfire stopped, the driver yelled something and the truck rumbled away. The group wiped the reddened sweat from their faces realizing it was finally over.
The only thing left amongst the crimson ash were some soft cries and writhing limbs.
