Chapter 38 - Hasty Withdrawal

Alfred stared out into the night, watching for movement. The goblins had been more active, and he worried they might try something now that the sun was down and most of the humans were secure inside the police station, sleeping. They kept guard shifts, of course. His would end in a few hours, and then he’d get some much-needed rest.

He could barely recognize himself, at this point. He still carried the fire axe, but now he was strong enough to wield it with one hand, while the other hand carried half of a solid wood door. They’d taken a few doors, chopped them in half with a hand saw, and then nailed leather or nylon straps to the wood. His shield had two straps, one for his forearm, the other to grab tight in his fist.

It looked wildly out of place on his five foot ten, fairly unathletic frame. Alfred had never been one for sports and weight lifting; his mind was his weapon. And yet, there he was, axe and shield in hand like he was some fur-wearing barbarian out of a movie. His crystals expanded his Strength, Agility, and now Stamina as well—but he still looked about the same as he had three days prior.

The world was a strange place, and was only getting more so.

Movement from the direction of the station caught his eye, and he glanced over, but it was only Lords, coming to check on the guard posts. “All quiet?”

Alfred nodded. “So far.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way. Everyone could use some rest tonight,” Lords replied before walking back to the station.

Frankly, most of Lords’ refugees had been resting far too much as it was, from what he was seeing. Bradley, Neal, and Tom’s deaths hit Lords hard and many of the students harder. It was the first casualties they’d had, and a clear indication just how dangerous the world had become. Now, more than half of the refugees sheltering at the station were afraid to go out. How dangerous the world had become wasn’t a shock to Alfred; he’d seen it from the first moments after the Event. His girlfriend had died in front of him—and then promptly tried to kill him, once she woke up a zombie. Then the spiders, goblins, more zombies… No, he had no illusions left about the changed world.

Alfred worried he’d hitched his cart to the wrong horse. Selena was out there somewhere, probably doing just fine. Maybe other groups were, too. But this group was headed for trouble.

Things went sideways with Lords agreeing that leaving the camp should be a volunteer-only duty. If people weren’t leaving the camp, they couldn’t get crystals. Without crystals, they were helpless. That rule just ensured the people who had no way to defend themselves would never learn to do so. They worked camp jobs instead, cooking food, cleaning clothes, and standing watch alongside others who’d earned power.

The stay-in-camp crowd was already starting to whine about it some, though. Alfred spent most of the day out of the camp. He’d spoken with Kara and Joe, the pair who’d been his partners the day everything blew up and Brad was killed. Both of them agreed with him, in premise at least: getting out there to fight more monsters so they could gather more crystals was key. Without the stones, they were helpless. Each of them had acquired a single stone before they set out that morning.

By lunch, Kara and Joe were tier two, Kara for Strength and Joe for Agility. By the end of the day they were partway toward tier three, and Alfred had hit tier three, letting him socket a third stone. He picked Stamina for that, because he wanted to be able to survive some hits, not just deliver them. The way these stones worked, at tier three his Strength was insane. He could kill someone without any Stamina boost in a single shot, and was one-shotting goblin scouts all afternoon as they cranked up the intensity of their approach.

But more than half of the refugees in Lords’ camp had no stones, which meant they were at best cannon fodder, and realistically just needed to be kept away from any pitched combat. In fact, his fellow guard had no crystals yet. Martin was the kid’s name—undergrad student who’d been doing work study down in the library annex not far away when everything went to shit. His eyes were still useful to watch for attacks, but if the goblins hit, Martin would be useless in a fight.

Alfred had spare stones. He could give the man one. He had a spare Strength and one of Will. The latter, he was hoping to swap with someone else for another Strength. The sooner he could get that to tier four, the better. The former, he was saving to rank up. But he could pass one over to Martin. He hated the idea, though. If the man had gone out with them on patrols, supply runs, and to look for more survivors, then Alfred would’ve personally made sure he had at least one crystal.

He couldn’t see rewarding the guy for sitting around in camp, though.

Something flickered through the air, and Martin’s hands went to his chest. He fell with a grunt, an arrow protruding from him. An attack? Or a lucky shot by a lone goblin? Alfred couldn’t take the chance. He ran to the alarm, a big brass thing like a bonus-size dinner bell they’d set hanging from a light pole, and pulled the rope hard.

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The bell tolled. Alfred kept ringing it.

Lords was out in a flash. “What’s happening?”

“Martin’s down!” Alfred shouted. “Arrow. Not sure how many attackers, but the arrow came from the east.”

“George! Get Martin inside to Henry, see if he can heal him,” Lords called out as more people exited the police station. “Let’s get up on the walls, but watch for archers out there.”

They’d surrounded the station with a ring of cars, each tipped on their side and braced with heavy rocks. As more people got Strength crystals, moving heavy stuff became casually easy. Alfred thought he could potentially lift a car solo, at this point, but he hadn’t tried yet. Tipping one sideways was simple. Hauling in park benches or filling sandbags to use as ramparts had fallen to those who stayed at the base during the day, so he hadn’t seen them at work—but the effect was fairly good. They had a wall, now. It wasn’t perfect; there were gaps between the cars here and there. But it was better than nothing at all.

People rushed out of the station, moving toward the walls, but it was already too late.

A fireball soared through the air from someplace outside the perimeter, slamming into the middle of the open space inside the wall. It exploded there, knocking several people to the ground. One man was close enough to catch fire, and he rolled back and forth, trying to put out the flames while he shouted in pain. Like that was the signal, goblins poured through two of the gaps in the wall. They’d used the few moments after Martin fell, that distraction, to get themselves from the wood line into position to strike.

Now they were inside the walls, dozens of them rushing forward to the attack.

Alfred surged against them, his axe taking down a goblin with one blow. Something darted through the air and banged against his shield—an arrow. Close call, that. He kept the shield up and at the ready, hoping to block any similar attacks.

Another fireball slammed into the compound, exploding directly in front of the station itself. The blast blew the massive glass window out front to smithereens, sending shards flying back through into the still-waking people inside. Screams and cries of pain started up inside the station, as flames caught and roared up the front of the building.

Alfred hacked down another goblin, then a third, but there were too many of the things. He found himself forced back, step by step, toward the front of the station where Lords and the other active defenders fought against dozens of the creatures.

“Alfred, join the shield wall!” Lords called, and Alfred stepped back, locking shields with the man. “We have to hold them here!”

A third fireball hit the station. This time, it was aimed at the roof rather than the front. It blew up with flames that lit the night, sending sparks flying dozens of feet in every direction. Alfred winced and ducked, then barely dodged a goblin spear. He snapped the spear off with his axe, then twisted his wrist and sent the blunt side of the axe into the goblin’s head. The hapless creature was blasted ten feet back and fell to the ground motionless.

But another fireball slammed into the building. Whoever was sending those, they were careful not to hit their own people. But they’d hammered the building three times now. Flames roared behind him as they spread over the building. Another blast blew one of the cars from their wall over, sending it crashing to the ground and shattering their wall. More goblins poured through the new gap. There were too many of them, even without the fireballs. With that edge? This wasn’t going to be a fight. It was a slaughter.

“Lords, we need to withdraw!” Alfred shouted. “We can’t hold, not against this.”

He watched the indecision flash across the man’s face. Then a goblin rushed Lords, barreling into the man’s shield. A quick blow with a bat took the creature down, but there were more of them approaching. The wall was down, more fireballs shot across the sky, the station was burning, and everything was going to shit.

Alfred considered just running for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the people behind. What about Kat, Selena’s roommate? Or Kara and Joe, the folks he’d scouted and fought alongside the past two days? He chopped down another attacker, and then the world seemed to blow up around him. There was a bright flash of light as the flame impacted directly against Lords’ shield, which shattered. Shards of wood flew in all directions. One stabbed into Alfred’s leg—and then he crashed into the ground, tossed by the explosion.

Thankfully, this blast threw the goblins back, as well. By the time Alfred was back on his feet, more of the monsters swarmed through the wall into the grounds, replacing those which had fallen. It was a reprieve, not a win.

Lords was down. Alfred made his way to the man’s side, but he was gone. The broken shield exploded in front of him at point blank range, and huge daggers of wood penetrated his body in too many places. There was no way he could have survived that.

None of them were going to make it, unless someone took charge and got them out of there.

Alfred raised his voice, shouted as loud as he could. “Shield wall! Hold the line! We’re withdrawing. Everyone else! Help the wounded and move! We’re moving out to the west. Move, people! Move!”

His voice boomed over the sounds of battle, and amazingly, people listened. The wall reformed, holding back the goblin tide. Behind him, people were helping each other from the burning building, coughing and gasping in the growing smoke. There was a gap in the western wall, and that’s where the refugees fled. Alfred spotted Kat hobbling off, using crutches they’d found someplace to help her get along.

He turned his full attention back to the goblins. The group was moving, fleeing to the west. There were buildings there, deeper into campus, that they could base themselves in. He and his team had cleared a few earlier in the day. They could find a new place to rest and recover. But only if the shields held long enough for the others to escape.

Alfred looked right and left, to George and Samson, and the other warriors still defending the retreat. They nodded to him. With a roar, the line stepped forward, weapons flashing as they strove to push the enemy back.