Chapter 6: “These Walls of Ours”

 

 

JOHN

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            John flung open the closet door in his room.  Above him, he could hear the footsteps of his son and daughter as they made their way around their rooms, he chose the room under the stairs beneath their own rooms, as his own parents had done.  He wanted to make sure they wouldn’t sneak out at night, or at least he wanted to know.  Up above, he could hear them rapidly throwing their things into bags.  He smiled, he believed they would make practical decisions.  As a rule, they always kept a tactical bag ready, so all they really needed to do was change, and pack clothes.  But John was a little worried because Sam couldn’t wear any of her tactical gear, there hadn’t been enough time to get that readjusted yet.

 

John pulled a brown chest out from bottom of the closet and slid it across the room to the foot of his bed before throwing it open.  With almost ritualistic practice John quickly shed down to his underwear before pulling out a tough looking pair of combat pants, giving it a once over before donning them.  After that he threw on A lightweight t-shirt as a skin-barrier for the modified tactical rig he wore next.  The vest had several pouches for whatever ammo they might give him, while at his back hung an empty scabbard.  Reaching down again, John retrieved his Broadsword, which was housed in a slim, intricately carved wooden and metal sheath. 

 

It was both a gift, and a payment for a job done well long ago.  It was crafted from purified steel by a mage, who was quite a sword fanatic.  He used his knowledge to form a broadsword sturdy enough for John to swing without care.

John was skeptical back then, but after swinging it around a few times he gave into his childhood fantasies and began to practice with it daily for a while.  Eventually satisfied, it became part of his road kit, and now, he was even willing to take it into the organized chaos that is battle.  John slid it into place at his backside and secured it firmly so that when it came time to draw his blade there would be no complications.

 

After giving his straps and gear a final once-over in the mirror, John wasted no further time before leaving except to return to the kitchen to drink his fill of water before heading out.  He had no idea what to expect, or how long he’d be fighting for.

 

 

 

 

 

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The Walls

 

            Hours later, all around the perimeter of the city of Storm Rock, pressed against all 36 defensive wall segments was a horde of Man-eaters.  They weren’t endless, but they were countless.  But tonight,  they would show these beasts how their good city earned its name.

 

For the last two hours the city fought tirelessly against the horde, thinning their numbers somewhat, but it wouldn’t be enough.  Even with the density of their numbers, their front-facing silhouette was slim enough that many defenders missed their intended targets – their shots landing glancing blows or throwing up dirt.  Fire, both magical and chemical in nature, occasionally poured down into the writhing mass of teeth and fur from the walls, scorching many and killing others outright.

But the sight of their dying brethren did nothing to quell the frenzy of the horde.  They were too worked up over the feast that awaited them should they make it over the walls.  And some almost did, the occasional wounded soldier living proof that their walls needed to be just a little higher.

 

As the last forward position crumbled, men streamed through the gate before it slammed shut in haste.  John was among them, having barely made it inside, but he felt accomplished.  His friend, clinging to life and gasping for breath hung against his side, was alive because of his quick thinking – and their actions at the gate had bought enough time for the remaining patrolmen to filter through their ranks back into the city.

“Thanks, John.  I thought I was a goner.”  The man said between gasps.

The scene looked dire, but John knew about Jake’s constitution, the man could practically regrow a limb.  Though he’d never actually put it to the test.

 

Fortunately for them, there were few wounded so far in their defense.  And a healer was able to take Jake off his hands.  Unfortunately, that didn’t mean there weren’t dead, or that nobody had gotten hurt outside.  Simply that the pack was too dense, the attackers too swift.  John’s unit hadn’t been outside more than twenty minutes before the retreat order was shouted over the sound of gunfire and magical explosions.  If he’d been any slower then he and Jake would be outside right now… and John knew what came after a retreat order at Storm Rock.

 

 

“REEAADYYY!!!”

“HEEEAAVEEE!”

After word was passed down through the ranks, the commander’s impassioned shouts could be heard echoing out across the battlement, signaling the men and women down below at the walls to channel their magic into the structure.  Slowly, blue circuitry seemed to etch itself into the walls, tracing a pattern that wasn’t normally visible.  The sight would be beautiful if it weren’t for the purpose, or their situation.

This scene was replicated all along the perimeter of the city walls.  As each segment began to illuminate on their own a strange humming seemed to fill the air, one note at a time.  The sound felt flat, like a wall covering every frequency of sound, quickly drowning out even the sirens wail.  As the last wall to light up matched the other segments in their luminous intensity a spectacular thing occurred. 

 

Each wall segment had its own pattern, all slightly different permutations of the same design.  But as their power grew, the patterns did too, no longer confined to their initial segment.  New lines of power grew and connected every segment simultaneously.  Almost instantly – the powerful sound cut out.  All sound cut out.  Like a short circuit the glyphs flickered with intensity before they faded away, and the echo of rumbling could be heard.  To the defenders and everyone within the walls, sirens reigned again.

 

Beyond, however.

 

Death.  Everywhere one looked, the ground, the fields they’d cultivated, the land even.  The men atop the walls had seen it best, something some of them had never seen, but something none of them would ever forget.  In that fateful moment when the sound disappeared, it was like it had redoubled in energy, the ‘half’ that would have radiated inward, directed again atop itself, outward.  The sudden surge and drain of energy from the walls couldn’t support a sustained soundwave of such intensity, instead it unleashed itself like a shockwave. 

Everywhere it passed, it mulched the earth.  Splintering trees and beasts alike.  Man-eaters, which had been pressing against the walls in a pack so thick you couldn’t see the earth beneath them were rent inert instantly.  Some of them turning directly into fine mist, while others were rent apart by the intense force, scattering viscera and bloody gore around.

The monster pack had been large enough to make them use their trump-card.  But now there wasn’t a single intact corpse among the fallen.  As the ground seized beneath their feet and became loose before the shockwave ripped everything apart, mixing dirt and gore together before pressing it firmly back into the earth.

 

 

A moment of awe-inspired silence hung amongst the defenders before they returned to themselves with a rallying cry.  The various segment commanders ordered the mages to fall back and rest, while the rest rearmed and removed any wounded.

 

Their trump card was a double-edged sword, as while it was powerful, it was incredibly destructive to their immediate surroundings, nor did it distinguish between friend, foe, man or beast.  Not to mention it took most of their magical manpower to discharge such a weapon, leaving the mages who participated defenseless until they recovered – that is if they even needed them at this point.

 

 

But as the minutes gathered into an hour, the all clear signal was given.  After casting spells meant to detect living beings proved that they were alone again, the defenders began to reorganize.  Half stayed on or near the walls, while the other half went about preparing to sleep for the night.  They would switch with the others in the morning, standing guard until noon before they lowered their guard to resume normal life again.

Commanders went about, counting heads.  Due to the beast’s nature, there were almost no casualties along the walls.  The outer patrols and soldiers who stood ground over the gats suffered the brunt.  Of the fifty out on patrol, ten made it back - all through John's gate.  But the gate defense faired better, retaining over half their number.  John counted himself lucky to not be among the fallen.  Things would have been vastly different if any of the beasts could wield magic, even the order to hold the gates wouldn’t have been so costly if they’d been up against almost any other creature type.

 

But the battle was won.  John thought about his two children, almost adults now, thankful that his impulsive decision to save Jake hadn’t separated them for eternity.  And, looking around at the rest of the defenders he surmised they were thinking similar thoughts.  Happy to be alive.

 

John thought back to the construction project that became the city walls that now shielded them.  At first it was met with much resistance; a construction project that demanded active contributions from almost every able-bodied person in their, at the time, small city?  And it was a design that hadn’t been proven effective yet.  But back then the hordes were numerous, and so they bit down and built these up.

They were made primarily using magic, but the materials still had to be sourced.  The whole city, almost all 4.3k of them at the time, spent their days gathering piles of metal, stone, and wood into 36 different heaps.  Mages spent weeks on the foundations alone, channeling their magic and will into the earth to make the bedrock grow up around them like 36 stubby teeth.  Upon which the much more complex, but less time-consuming project would be built.  There, the mages worked hand in hand with the rest of the town.

At that stage, they needed to melt the metal for the mages to then bend and form into the glyphs that had illuminated the night earlier.  It would have been too draining to have the mages melt the metal or form it to shape while cold.  The solution being a congo-line of people that connected the scrap and wood piles to their makeshift forge.  They kept this up for 16 straight hours, as the glyphs had to be done in one go, no part of it allowed to cool enough that it became solid before another molten orb was pressed into its shape, spreading tendrils of mana-infused metal into form.  An additional layer of complexity was the need to construct all 36 glyphs in sync. 

John thought back to the moment as they collectively held their breath while the last orb melted into the glyph before all the heat that remained in the metal evaporated, consumed by the shape as a low drone echoed around them, signifying their success.  They’d cheered and celebrated.  And after testing their walls they dubbed themselves Storm Rock.

 

Back then, testing the walls had the added benefit of clearing away everything for almost a kilometer around them in radius, allowing them to finally cultivate the land.  But it was also responsible for their first famine, as when they activated their walls one spring it ended up destroying the farmland they’d worked hard to cultivate.  Since then, unless absolutely necessary, they refrained from using them.

 

Today they needed it.  Man-eaters were were a determined breed, and they would have lingered outside the walls if they hadn’t taken them out immediately.  Hiding in hopes of catching them unaware or picking them off as they went out to scavenge.

 

John made his way over to his unit and sat down in the grass next to them, as his stomach began to grumble.  A smile spread across his face as he realized nobody in his unit was hurt.  “Guys, go grab some wood and start a fire, they’ve got some food coming for us.”

John ripped open a velcro compartment on his jacket and pulled out an older styled phone.  After scrolling down his contact list, John selected his eldest son’s contact.  John sent him a quick message letting them know he was okay and that they should get some rest before putting his phone back.

 

 

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SAM

-

 

            Sam heard the sound of sirens rising in intensity briefly as her dad left the house, quieting again as the door slammed behind him.  Sam never had any problems dealing with their city’s alert system growing up, in the summers they ran scheduled tests and she’d never felt like this.  She could feel her ears pressed flat against her head, trembling whenever the sound reached its peak intensity before it lowered again. She currently had the hood of her sweatshirt up to help muffle the sound, and it did help, somewhat. 

As she closed the zipper on her bag she winced, realizing she’d grabbed only things that would have fit him.  Sam opened it back up to stuff in a couple of moms dresses in case she desperately wanted something that actually fit.  

Sam’s tail tip twitched about anxiously as she went around gathering her things before heading downstairs with her gear.  Sam went into the garage first, heading to where their truck sat in the furthest bay.  It was a black 4 door with a long bed that resembled an old patchwork quilt of sorts, as its doors and other panels were replaced with different colors over the years.  In the places where the old bodywork had rusted or simply didn’t exist they replaced with metal.  Aesthetics were important in some things, but not in a rugged vehicle that they used as a trailblazer.

 

She tossed both her bags into the back before she turned and saw Michael, who had his own bags.  He walked over to her and tossed them both in beside her own, turning towards her after with a determined expression on his face.

“Now, step two.” he said as they both walked over to a cabinet in the corner of the room.  Opening it revealed it was actually a safe and Michael punched the code into the coded lock.  It clicked open.  Michael reached in and withdrew a box of shotgun shells with one hand, and a shotgun in the other before stepping aside and gesturing at the safe.  “You can still shoot.”

Better than you.

 

Sam stepped over to the safe, she always trained against Liam and excelled in close quarters combat, but he was the better shot.  This always made Sam reluctant to pickup anything except pistols.  She actually dual-wielded a pair of Berettas with great finesse, it blended well with her hit and run style of fighting – what she lacked in precision she made up for in spades with her fast trigger fingers and quick reflexes.  Sam reached down to pull her pistol cases from the safe, pausing to grab two boxes of 9mm and stuff them into her hoodie pocket.

She turned to Michael after kicking the safe closed, “I have to make sure my holsters can still fit, meet downstairs in five?”  Michael nodded, already in his tactical rig.  As she went upstairs to get ready, he went into the kitchen.

 

As Sam ascended the stairs the distant sound of gunfire began to join in and mingle with the sirens, accompanied by the occasional explosion.  Sam clenched her fists, cursing this transition again.  She should be on those walls too, she should have left with her dad.  It was fine that Michael stayed, plenty of people stayed behind, but she felt caged and helpless as the choice was beyond her control – something Sam raged against. 

 

Sam walked into her room again and changed out of her sweater, leaving the loose top and sweatpants on.  She realized that unfortunately her current setup, ignoring footwear, was as good as she could get.  She walked to her closet and pulled a jacket off of a hanger, retrieving her dual shoulder straps as well.

Sam slid her arms through the loops, finding she had to pull the adjusting straps almost as far as they could go before they felt tight enough to support any weight.  I definitely need some new kit.

 

 

 

Sam finished loading her pistols and after some more adjusting was satisfied at how they hung within reach.  She then grabbed her black jacket and pulled it on, it was a size too small for him, and Sam had been meaning to get rid of it before but now it came in handy as it was only just a little too big for her now.  Kind of perfect actually, if she ever wanted to conceal the fact that she was packing then this would be her go-to choice moving forward.

 

Sam looked at the bed, thinking about Sarah’s visit just an hour ago.  Emotions boiled inside.  She didn’t think she could be strong enough, or perhaps cold-hearted enough to just ignore their history.  Even if her orientation was changing it felt so wrong to just throw it away. 

 

But Sam had to respect that these were Sarah’s wishes too.  It gripped her heart like thorns when she considered it, but it was possible Sarah started the process of moving on when she heard about Sam’s transformation.  Sarah was a considerate person and probably knew that if Sam woke up it would be rough for Sam, who might want to try to pickup where they left off.  At least she didn’t let me stew in my uncertainty.  Sam didn’t know if she was thankful or angry at Sarah for defining their new relationship.  Sam still wanted to at least try.

She had to remind herself again, however, that all her thoughts, all these emotions are things Sarah herself may have thought.  Feelings she may have already worked through and come to decisions about that aligned with what she thought she wanted out of life.

 

Sam decided to wait until her period was over before she attempted to make a move on Sarah.  If she was successful, she didn’t want anything to mess up the evening they might have.

 

Sam made her way back downstairs and took a seat across from the island from Michael.  On the far left of Sam was Michael’s shotgun, and two empty boxes, left intact in case he needed to put the ammo back.  On his chest he wore many more rounds, distributed evenly across easily accessible places on his tactical rig.  He looked slightly like Rambo, as he shuffled a deck of uno cards with a pensive expression on his face.

As she sat down Michael began to deal, his expression shifting into his usual playful self.  “You look like how Laura Croft might if she grew fox-ears and a tail.”  It came off teasing but it felt more like a compliment to Sam – Laura was pretty badass.  She smiled and decided to air her thoughts as well, “You’re not too bad yourself, like a young Rambo.  Like before he hit puberty.”  She added that last part after he threw a draw-4 on top of her card as his opening move.

“Bro, seriously fuck you.” Sam said with a laugh, drawing her cards.

 

As the battle raged on for the city around them, the two played uno, trying to ignore the world. 

 

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                        Sam had almost started to get used to the sounds of battle, so much so that it came as a shock when it faded all at once.  Neither Sam nor Michael had ever seen the walls in action, they were only nineteen and twenty respectively.  The last time was before they were born. 

It struck fear into the both of them as the droning buildup of sound started rattling the windows and walls before everything suddenly went silent.  Michael said something, reaching out to take Sam’s hand but no sound came out.

After the moment passed, sound came back, along with the wailing sirens. 

Sam picked up her cards that she had dropped with a shaky hand.  “Do you know what that was?” She asked.  But Michael shook his head, “We’ll ask dad when he comes back.”  Sam felt fear for her father’s safety at the mention of him, especially after whatever that was, but pushed it down.  All they could do was bear with it and have faith in him.  Being pessimistic helped nothing.

 

They continued playing uno, the absence of battle and the uncertainty over what that meant hung over their heads.  Neither of them spoke, playing in silence now, going through the motions of the game.

 

The sirens abruptly stopped.  Michael and Sam set their cards on the table, holding their breath.  Before they could become concerned, the all clear signal chirped out from the Sirens.  It repeated several times before it fell quiet.

Sam could feel her ears ringing as she lifted her hands to massage her temples while she closed her eyes in relief.

Thank god that’s over. 

 

“Guess that’s that then, all that packing for nothing.”  Michael didn’t sound disappointed, relieved actually.  He sighed, and stood.  Walking back to the fridge and opening it with a tug.  He came back with more beer.

“Dad might be a little annoyed that we killed six in one night, but I think he’ll understand.  Here.”  He handed her a bottle.  Sam wanted to say no.  But she found herself downing half of it in one go instead, breathing in between gulps. 

Sam set it down with a small burp, followed by a larger one before laughing at the mental image of a petite girl burping like a man.   “Do you think dad killed six too?” she asked after her burp-laughs had subsided.  Sam began to feel buzzed after the sudden intake met her empty stomach.  It’d been hours since they’d been at the firepit, and longer still since she last ate.

“Nah.  More.”

“Eight?”

“Hmm, nope. Higher.”  Sam giggled at the child-like banter they had going.

“Uhm okay let’s see. Sixteen then. Final answer.” Sam took another drink.

 

Michael’s phone vibrated on the table, hidden from view earlier by the shotgun, signifying the end of their game.  Sam watched as a smile spread across his face when he read the message.

“It’s from dad, he’s fine.  He’ll be home at noon tomorrow.  He said that he barely saw any combat and that nobody from his unit was injured.  Dad also told us to go to bed and stop drinking all the beer.”

Sam laughed, “what, did you tell him?”

Michael shook his head.  “No, but he raised us.”

 

After the two finished their beverages, they settled down for the evening in their own rooms.

 

Today had been far more packed than it should have been for a first day back from the hospital.

 

Sam sat topless in her panties and soft socks that Sarah had given her while she unloaded her pistols and placed them back in her case before sliding them under her bed for now.  She rubbed her back where the bra strap had been digging in between her shoulders.  The harness had a backstrap that happened to line up perfectly with the clasp and over the hours she sat playing card games with Michael it had really begun to bother her. 

Sam slipped under the covers and enjoyed the feeling of the cool sheets against her supple form.  As she lay there, she pondered playing with herself, but before any form of arousal could form in her belly Sam’s heavy eyes closed, and she dreamed instead.