Chapter 74 The Southern Gate

Sara heard the cheering and knew her father made it. This was it. She pushed all doubts away, and stepped up onto a reinforced truck bed. She looked around, her eyes falling to the armoured knights that were hers to lead. Sara took a deep breath.

“I look around and I see those I once thought less of.” Sara paced, her voice unfaltering. “I look around and see them stood ready to fight. Ready to defend what is theirs. I look around and I see cooks and cleaners. Traders and barkeeps. Hunters and sheriffs. All stood ready.”

Sara paused, an electric silence in the air. Her voice grew louder, her paces quickened. “I see survivors of The Great War, stood ready. I see those that lived as slaves beneath the earth, stood ready.” Her eyes fell to her knights, her family. “My Brothers…” Sara raised her voice, thrusting her arms out wide. “What do you say to them?!”

“AD VICTORIAM!” Steel clanged against steel as the Brotherhood answered as one

“What do you say to the Brother at your side?!” Sara bellowed.

“AD VICTORIAM!” Their amplified voices shook the walls.

“What do you say to the horror at our gates?!” Sara’s voice filled with rage.

“AD VICTORIAM!” The Brotherhood of Steel stood ready.

“To me my Brothers!” She leapt down, sword held high. “To victory!” Sara led the charge of hundreds onto the field of battle to face an army of monsters. The greatest moment of her life became the worst as she stopped, letting others take up the front line.

“Form up!” She barked, arranging the knights into a phalanx like the Spartans of old. Eight foot iron plate shields clanged together, locking to create a barrier that could move without breaking. The front lined with the hardened alloy, cut into dull spikes like a meat tenderiser. A sharp edge along the top. Behind them another row of knights bracing for support.

The impenetrable formation opened as her father came to a skidding stop. He gave her a nod, and took charge of the mixed group of fighters in the centre. She stepped up onto the truck bed. A wave of green barrelled towards them. She envied those that couldn’t see.

“Stand ready. Brace!” The wave crashed against metal with a stomach churning crunch. The force of the impact drove the knights back. The shield wall buckled and bent, but did not break. “Make ready.” She shouted. The second row of knights crouched, aiming through gun ports in the shields. “Fire!” Sara started shooting, followed by the knights. Then the armed citizens garrisoning the wall and gatehouse.

The air filled with noise and lead. Every bullet fired hitting green flesh, no harder than hitting water from a boat. Wounded mutants stumbled, pulled down by the horde and crushed into paste by the stampede behind them.

Teams of field scribes sounded off. The shallow holes they’d hastily dug now filled in. She dismissed them in turn. “Prepare to break.” Sara looked to her father. He picked a pair of knights, clanging their helmets. “Break!” The pair of knights put their lives into the hands of others, and withdrew from the shield wall. Turning their back to the mutants flooding in.

Her father decapitated one with an effortless swipe. Her aspirant caved in a bulbous head with a backhanded hammerblow. Precise sniper fire and a surgical slice from Styx and his minigun cut down more. The shield wall clanged back together. “Reload and make ready.” Sara yelled, starting the cycle again.

Sara caught a glimpse of movement. Purposeful and direct amidst the chaos. She let rip tight bursts from her light machine gun. Suddenly the horde pushed on the left, then the right. Methodology probing for a weakness. They found one.

Knights fell backwards. One of the field scribes threw another aside before the armour landed on her. Sara knew instantly from the sound the scribe was dead. Her eyes fell to the mangled body. She saw something she recognised. The pipboy Jen had taken for her own, still clamped around a mangled forearm.

The bravest scribe she’d ever known and a trusted friend lay broken on the ground. Sara couldn’t do anything for her. She had no choice but to order knights into the breach, trampling her friend to nothing.

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Minutes later the breach had been sealed. The shield wall pushed back over the spot where she lost Jen.

Hours passed under the constant assault. The noise of mutants all around them. The demented laughter, the mournful wailing, the non sequiturs and threats. All drowned out with bursts of fire, met with more green flesh battering against the shield wall.

The sun began to set as the semi circle of armoured knights retreated into the gatehouse. Ranks four deep braced the ever shrinking shield wall. The hours of physical and mental strain had begun to show. Some dropped to a knee, getting replaced. “Tempest, this is Tower Actual.” Lady Luck came over her comm. “Wall is clear.”

“Confirmed Tower.” Sara answered. “Brothers. Break!”

Sara gave the command. The knights broke from the shield wall, retreating under fire as the Abomination spilled in.

Now the tables had turned. Now the mutants stood surrounded. “Tempest to all callsigns. Jericho.” She gave the codeword Virgil chose.

Demolition charges placed inside the hollowed out gatehouse blew in sequence. Brick turned to dust. Girders split like firewood. The building collapsed in on the mutants, bringing sections of the wall with it on either side.

Sara took off her helmet, listening. The spiderweb of buried explosive devices outside the wall erupted. The blasts cresting the jagged wall. It cost Jen her life. It took out hundreds of mutants. It still didn’t seem worth it to Sara.

Her eyes fell to the mutants ensnared in her trap. “Purge them all!” She screamed, turning her knights loose. Sara watched from above the fray.

People rained fire down from empty apartments. Hunters drew blood with spears. Armoured knights waded into the fracas. Mechanised fists smashed mutated skulls. Bladed weapons cut through green flesh. Stomping feet silenced frenzied yells.

Silence returned to Shadowtown. “Tempest, Tower Actual. They’re moving to the east, irregulars and greenskins.” Lady Luck said over her comm.

“Solid copy Tower.” Sara switched channels. “Whirlwind, Tempest. Sitrep.”

“Table is set and we’re dressed for dinner.” Charlie answered. Sara almost pitied those foolish enough to throw in with Jones.

“Brothers, assemble by the western gate. Once there, rest up. You earned it.” Sara led them in a lax formation, it being far easier that way for armoured personnel. Soon they were behind the western gate. Sara exited her armour and walked amongst her knights.

Some were jubilant, elated. Recreating parts of the battle as they retold it. Others were quiet, pouring water over their heads and slumping next to their armour.

“Boss!” A woman called out, pushing through the crowd. Sara stopped, hoping it wasn’t who she thought it was. “Boss, I…” Banshee stood before her, Phantom behind her. “I fell on someone.” The young knight sounded racked with guilt. “Did they…”

“You did nothing wrong Gillian, it wasn’t your fault.” Sara saw how hollow those words were. Banshee dropped where she stood. Phantom sat with her. Sara couldn’t do anything for her either.

“Wait.” Banshee called out as Sara started to leave. “Who was it?” She asked. Sara let out a deep sigh, she respected her for asking.

“Jen.” Sara barely kept her voice from breaking. Everyone knew Jen, thanks to her role as Sara’s assistant. Sara couldn’t stand the thought of Jen being remembered for her death.

“Brothers.” She spoke loudly, yet with reverence. “It is my duty to inform you that Scribe Jennifer Groves was lost to the Abomination.” Sara saw the morale dip. “Jen grew up right here, all the way up on the forty third floor. She was one of the first to join with us. Despite her rank, she volunteered to be on the frontline today. She told me it was her duty to be where she could do the most good. That this place was worth the risk."

“That duty is ours now, Brothers. To save this place so the next brave girl from the forty third floor gets a chance to do some good in this world.” Sara watched her words take hold, none took them to heart more than Banshee. Sara felt a great pain, knowing her friend’s loss would weigh heavy on them both.

Through the crowds, Sara heard a laugh she knew. She followed the sound into the Bathhouse, finding her team at the bar. Seeing them made her smile. “Boss.” John stood, offering her his seat. “We were drinking a toast to Jen.” He forced a smile.

“Well in that case.” Sara sat, the normalcy feeling odd after the sights of such horror.

“Bob, get the paladin a vodka, on me.” John said loudly. Sara nearly fell off her stool as a robot bartender whizzed up to her. It placed down a glass and swiftly poured in the vodka.

“We were talking about the day we hit that bank vault.” Styx reminded her.

“Jen had that thing on her head for hours. What was it?” Sara could picture her now.

“A tiara.” Acheron answered, fondness in his voice.

“We all thought she’d forgotten about it.” Crixus had a smile under sad eyes.

“I finally told her, she says ‘I know, it looks good right’.” Sara let out a laugh that nearly became a cry. “To Jen, bravest scribe I ever met.” They all toasted, taking back a moment for themselves from the nightmare outside.