The Surviving Son (Valkyrie Book 2) (21 page)

Blackened billowing soot scorched out the suns light as the roar
of inferno and war cascaded down the valley. Shirts, rags and even
skivvies were dampened to mask our airways from the befouled
smog that choked this landscape. The raging flames were obscured,
but its blistering breath caressed our backsides as sweat drained
from our skin only to evaporate in a blink of the eye. Without rain,
much of western New-England will surely burn, a bittersweet
disaster, as a staggering population of the dead will be reduced to
ash but an incalculable mass of terrified survivors will also perish.

Mason would surely pass it off as a necessary evil, followed by
applaud and praise to the death toll of our enemies. Like Truman’s
decision to obliterate Nagasaki and Hiroshima, my hasty actions
have condemned the misguided as well as the innocent, and as
necessary as it may be, moral it is not. Of all my mistakes and
failures, this will surely plague me the most.

Genocide, the thought goes against
everything that we’ve
molded the GFS out of. An old world school of thought where ones
beliefs are smashed under the heels of power. But maybe Ash is
right, for our new society to thrive, we must squash those who mean
to corrupt it. One must resort to violence in order to bring upon
peace. As damning as it sounds, it has worked before, and yet it
would seem that Evil will always find a way.

We broke through the tree line by late afternoon and set foot out
onto what was once Rangeley Village Cemetery. Now a vast field
of neatly arranged craters, piles of bones, and broken tombstones.
The final resting place of Rangeley’s beloved had been exhumed
long ago and resourced in the name of a doomed defense. The
markers of the dead were used as bricks, and the wood of their
coffin’s used to board up windows, all of which will eventually burn
or crumble, and nature will be the last to consume this once quaint
little town.

However, Ash was correct, as we strolled down route sixteen
towards the center of town, there was an empty silence about. No
longer were the streets filled with the bustle of an adolescent
community, but instead reeked of putrid death. The sidewalks were
lined with the decapitated heads of the town’s residents, and by the
sight of the spent shell casings, it was apparent that the Raiders
found their bounty and took it by force. Another damnation created
by our own selfish priorities.

“JESUS!”
Steph exclaimed as she wiped the down pour of guilt
ridden tears from her face.
“Keep moving!” Ordered Ash.
Abel tugged at my shirt, looking up at me with the gaze of a
confused and distraught young mind. He didn’t have to say a word,
I knew the question, but did not possess a justified answer. So in
vain assurance, I patted his head just as the echo of a rifle barked
over the rooftops and the soldier on point dropped to his knees with
a gaping hole in his chest. There was a moment of stunned
astonishment before the rooftops came alive with gunfire.
“TAKE COVER! Ash screamed.
His four remaining men, and himself spread themselves out
along the street, takin refuge behind abandoned cars, businesses, and
even a rusted old mailbox as Steph dragged Abel out behind a rock
wall and I dove behind a leftover barricade. Ash and his men
returned fire, and once again we were in the midst of battle just as
the firestorm lapped at the edges of town.
The Northern Alliance or cornered Raiders, our current enemy
was unknown, but our escorts fought them back with a warrior’s
fury. Main Street splintered under a barrage of lead, windows
shattered, and sparks lit up the ash cloaked daylight. The worst of it
had yet begun, from back the way we came was the shadowy
silhouette of Valkyrie’s march as the dead waltzed out of the flames
and towards the dinner-bell of conflict.
“BRAXTON!” Ash called out.
“Yes sir!” A disheveled roughneck answered back from an
adjacent building.
“Red Smoke!” Ash said, throwing hand signals in the direction
of the enemy’s line of sight. Braxton pulled a grenade from his belt
and pulled the pin as Ash called out to the others, “COVERING
FIRE!” For which they unleashed a barrage of slugs upon the
rooftops, blowing out windows, and crumbling the red-brick walls.
Braxton turned the corner of his cover and hurled the grenade, only
to fall back instantly from a shot to the head.
“GOD DAMN IT!” Ash called out. “SNIPER!” The grenade
released a loud pop soon after, followed by a powerful hiss as
plumes of red smoke rose up over the street and merged with the
descending soot, creating a barrier of dark crimson ash. I looked at
my old friend, waiting for his next order, but it never came. With
visibility at a minimum I scurried over to his side.
“What are we doing?” I asked.
“Hush.” He commanded. “Wait for it.”
“Wait for…” I stopped.
A low rumble approached from over the lake, getting louder
ever second, and within and instant two choppers screamed
overhead. They did not hesitate to unleash hell, firing fifty caliber
rounds into the buildings as the enemy attempted to fire back, but
instead finding a quick and painful trip into the afterlife. And as the
apache’s circled the enemy, Ash pulled a radio from his pack.
“DELTA BRAVO, WE NEED IMMEDIATE EVAC, A HALF
CLICK NORTH ON ROUTE SIXTEEN - OVER.” He screamed
into the mic, and then waited for a response. Within seconds a
screech erupted from the speaker.
“COPY THAT, VERIFY LZ, WHISKEY DELTA – OVER!”
“LAND IT IN THE FUCKING STREET –OVER AND OUT!”
Without hesitation, Ash signaled everyone to push back and
allow the gun-ships to continue the fight. Quickly I rushed back to
Steph and Abel, only to find Steph holding her head upon the ground
and the boy nowhere to be found. Houses within sight had already
caught fire, and the inferno rushed our position with blistering heat
as I scanned the area for the stubborn child.
“OVER THERE!” One of the grunts shouted, pointing out
towards the approaching horde where Abel stood before them, arms
outstretched and shouting obscenities. Without thought, I darted in
his direction, Steph following close behind as we called out to him.
Already our rescue chopper could be heard whining overhead and
descending through the smog like an angel sent by god. Not once
did I look back, but the loud crash that resonated from behind was
enough for me to envision a hasty and reckless landing.
“GO BACK!” Abel shouted at the crowd of Necrotic’s, their
skin blackened and blistered as the garments that till clung to their
bodies continued to burn.
“ABEL WE HAVE TO GO NOW!” I cried as I grasped his
shoulder.
“They’re not listening!” He stammered.
“ABEL RUN!” I demanded, and he did.
Grasping Steph’s hand the two retreated back with the others as
I took a quick second to gaze over the hell that consumed this town.
Abel’s concern was just, he always had a limited control over these
mindless beings, but now, they ignored him as if he was invisible
and reached out at me with mindless hunger. Slowly I backed away,
widening the gap before turning and charging for the now grounded
chopper.
With a thud, I fell back upon the pavement, or was I pushed?
Looking up I found a Prowler standing before me, and the constant
march of the dead coming to an instant stop. The beast snarled at his
primitive kin, and they held their position as it stepped forward and
leaned over me. Down the road I could see Ash dashing furiously
towards me as Steph turned back, only to find that I was not there
with her.
“PATRICK!” She screamed, almost deafening the gunfire.
Ash’s charge came to a halt as two other Prowler’s blocked his
path. Selflessly I raise my hands up, signaling for Ash to stop.
“ASH, NO!” I screamed. “GET THEM OUT OF HERE!”
He hesitated in mid-step, but did not fall back, instead he raised
his rifle and took aim. Although I was confident in Ash’s
marksmanship, I knew all too well he would never pull the trigger.
His unwavering loyalty and affection for me would not take the
chance of a rare yet plausible miss, ending the man he has grown
fond of over the years. And I was right, he held fast, his cheek resting
firmly on the stock, and one eye fixed upon the Prowler before me,
ignoring the other two, and his other eye gazed deeply towards my
helpless stature. With overpowering authority my gaze burned into
his, and in sacrificial silence I mouthed one last order for my faithful
soldier.
“just go…”
Ash did not respond, his eyes glistening with the rise of fresh
tears, and his hands trembling in desperation. But as he fought to
foresee a successful attack, where we would all come out on top, the
gunfire from further down Main St was redirected towards him, and
the chopper. And still he hesitated, even as sparks and chips of
pavement bounced all about his feet, he hesitated, waiting on last
moment for a miracle. But it never came.
His rifle dropped, swinging freely by the strap on his shoulder,
but his eyes never left mine. He didn’t say a word, but his face could
be read like a book. Just as so many loyal soldiers before, like so
many warriors of the past, he looked upon his longtime dignitary
and friend with pride and never-ending devotion. He would never
be the same after today, a brilliant tactician and a witty raconteur no
more. This would be the breaking point of a hardened soul that
would not be broken.
“NO!”
Steph’s shrill broke the sanctity of the moment, and Ash turned
back, grabbing hold of the once shy and insipid young woman who
has grown so much over the last few weeks. Meekness had turned
to boldness, and the scrap who hid within the shadows had become
a survivor. There was so much I never told her, so much I should
have told her. In our short time together, which I never realized until
our one intimate night, she reminded me that I still had a heart. That
I still had something to offer the world, even if it was just the
brilliant shine in a young woman’s eyes.
“i love you…”
My lips wavering as I languidly mouthed the words to her, my
eyes flowing from the desperation in her face as Ash threw her into
the chopper with Abel already being restrained from within. Three
courageous souls, three broken hearts, but not all is lost. For today,
a Savior is born over the wails of an Angel, and under the protection
of a voracious legionnaire. Down in our hole, grasping at earth as it
fades to dust, a heavenly vine of hope dangles before our fingertips.
The choppers rotors spun faster, screaming over the infernal
shrills of hell as the carriage slowly rose off the pavement and into
the blotted sky. As I watched its ascent, a sloppy, red spray-painted
call-sign came into view, ‘Atlas’, and so it was. The Iron Titan
roared even higher, with the fate of the world resting upon its
shoulders. A demigod, carrying a God, hoisting mankind’s future
across an ashen sky.
The misguided and disloyal combatants on the ground pushed
out of the smoke guised street and closer to my position. Their
gunfire was sporadic, some aimed for the ascending chopper, others
at a Army of the Dead, and few back into clouds of fiery smoke.
And then, the Miracle that Ash had waited for, presented itself from
the myriad of abandoned homes and business. Although too late, the
Children of Urich mounted a counter offensive.
Boarded up windows became unobscured as the planks fell
from their places, revealing a juvenile militia, armed with makeshift
crossbows, recurves, and a few with guns. They were still alive,
simply playing hide and seek until the right moment to strike. With
fury in their eyes they released their arsenal, arrows imbedded
swiftly into both the living and the dead, as those with guns took
precise and lethal head shots. Chaos of war quickly became
unanticipated and disorganized pandemonium, and the soldiers
began to drop like flies as they fired their rifles at random
nothingness.
As the battle on the ground continued, I could feel the eyes of
my loving trio staring down at me; Ash, Steph and the precious boy,
but I did not return their gaze as something else had caught my
attention. It wasn’t the random screams and thunder of battle, nor
was it the blaze that ripped through town like an untethered demon.
But instead it was the heavy breaths of a villainous miscreation
standing over me, poised and observant, studying its own prey,
panting upon thick soot laden air.
Breathing, Adam once wrote about this observation in his
journal, long ago back at the old mill with that sightless Necrotic.
He was shocked by the chokehold that subdued it, and with SPV-3,
there was no purpose for its breathing, it was but habitual, plain old
instinct. However, the Prowler’s breathing was not asymptomatic, it
had purpose. Its lungs struggled to renew themselves over the
pounding in its chest, and the adrenaline pumping through its
infectious veins. The scientist in me became excited with question,
curiosity overshadowing the fear of death, and then in one instant I
became giddy.
The beast leaned closer, its rancid breath filling my sinuses with
nausea as its nebulous eyes stared deep into mine. The Prowler’s
bony hand lashed out and cusped my neck, squeezing tightly,
completely cutting off the flow of air. I gagged, gasped, and
struggled to free myself from its grip. My eyes once again flooded
with tears, blurring the dark and evil visage before me, and my heart
pounded harder in my chest until its thunderous beats overshadowed
the onslaught around us - war vanished into nothingness. Blackness
dropped over my eyes, I was rapidly fading, losing consciousness.
All was silent, all was dark. I was alone in an empty realm with
no notion of escape, and yet fear was nonexistent. It was absolute
nothingness, a desolate realm after the end of time. An eternity of
nihility, just endless thought without no meaning, with no purpose.
Complete and utter emptiness, and I relished in it. Before long,
before I could contemplate it further there came a bright light, like
the birth of a star before my very eyes. It was brilliant, blinding and
it shined upon me with peace and tranquility. The light of God!
Something cold and hard brushed my hand, or my hand brushed
against it, I am not sure. A smooth and forged surface, gradually
connecting to a textured obtrusion that fit comfortably within my
fingers. I didn’t question it, my curiosity nonexistent, and yet my
hand grip hard upon it as if it had a mind of its own. And as if a
weight seemed to hold it back, my arm slowly lifted, straining to
raise it higher into the pitch, until a clap of thunder shattered my
inner ear. All was silent again, darkness faded to the light, and
Valkyries silhouette stumbled in place from above, just before
slumping down hard upon the pavement beside me.
Fumbling, I stood up above the beast’s corpse, gasping for air
and wiping away my watery eyes. The overpowering smell of the
Necrotic army did not waiver my pride in the site before me as I
stood over the Prowler’s lifeless body. My pistol held tightly within
my aged yet iron-clenched grip. And from its own death, the control
it had over the horde faded, and although the sounds of their shuffle
closed in behind me, my attention slowly turned towards the
retreating chopper, and all I could do was smile.
The hope of mankind slowly drifted off over Rangeley Lake,
and I could see Abel’s struggle of protest, fighting to get off the
flying-machine in order to save me. Thankfully the kind heart of
Steph took over as she knelt before him in attempt to provide
comfort. And that was the last I saw of them as their chariot grew
smaller by the second, until it was completely enveloped in smog,
and my smile faded as the reality of the day set in. The Apache’s
swiftly followed close behind to provide cover, but there was no
need, the silence of gunfire was enough to assure that any other
militias had been eradicated, overrun, driven off by unruly children,
or violently burnt alive.
Soon Atlas’s mighty gunships were also shrouded within the
smoke of victory, and the whirr of their rotors quickly fading into
the distance. In solace, I raised my hand and waved one last
goodbye, and did not stop, not even when the decayed paw of the
devil fell upon my weary shoulders. Although I stand within a
refutable valley of death, I fear not of the shadows surrounding me,
for thy rod and thy staff are parading forth and shine comfort upon
me.