The march was insufferable. According to radio communications, the crash site was an hour away by foot, which realistically meant that it would take double that for a beleaguered band of warriors who were constantly beset by enemies.
Except, in this case, the group that was selected to travel to the site wasn’t a group of warriors at all. Rather, it was everyone that Taylor could no longer find a reason to support. The young, the infirm, and those who were otherwise incapable of providing a meaningful level of defense of Dover.
Children marched with the handful of elderly, and along with them hobbled Florian. They had yet to be attacked, but one of the more capable children thought he’d seen a few shadows speed past them. Who knew how long it would take before they were inevitably attacked?
Florian rested his hand on his mace. For all his injury limited him, his time in the forge had given him upper-body strength that few could match. The mace would be a formidable weapon against the wolves.
The ruins of the old roads were desolate reminders of the days of old. Florian hadn’t been outside since they’d been moved to Dover by the RAF shortly after Worldbreak, the castle the most defensible location in the area.
Though they had driven on the left-hand side of the road here in England – a strange sight for an American like Florian – the cars littering the road provided a grim picture for him regardless. Many of them were well on their way to rusting, most of them splattered with dried blood from the initial attack.
A few were more recent, no doubt attempts by pockets of survivors to reach Dover or another government-run facility. Florian mourned their loss, but inwardly he doubted whether Taylor, the cruel man he had revealed himself to be, would have accepted them.
Florian stumbled on a large piece of asphalt that had been separated from the rest of the road. One of the old men, a farmer, caught him before he fell.
“Thanks, Terrence.”
Terrence simply nodded, walking forward to their destination. Their little mission had formed an impromptu formation, mostly based upon how fast each of them could move. The children led the way, the oldest of them barely twelve years old, while the elderly and infirm held the rear.
Florian’s ears stung with embarrassment that he was among the latter group, despite being a vigorous twenty-four years old. As it was, he didn’t have a chance to remain embarrassed for long.
“Wolves!” one of the children shouted, running back to the older part of the group with the rest of young boys and girls at his heels. Further back behind them raced three wolves.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Fuck,” Florian muttered, unhooking his mace from his side. The rest of the men and women around him readied their weapons, most of them being farming implements hastily converted to weapons. He spotted a couple pitchforks, a spear, and even a sword. The children mostly held kitchen knives in their shaky hands, hiding behind the adults as the monsters neared.
Florian stepped out in front of the rest of the eight members of his group. He was the only one with any armor at all, and he had the best chance of fighting them off, even if it was an infinitely tiny one. “Protect the children!” he cried, watching the adults encircle the children, forming a human wall around them.
His hands shook, too, but it didn’t stop him from swiping at the first wolf that approached. The heavy iron mace slammed into its golden maw, black blood spraying from the impact. The other two wolves slowed their approach, having watched their leader suffer a grievous wound. Still, the wounded wolf was far from dead.
The monsters separated, surrounding the people. Florian, surprised by the effectiveness of his counter-attack hardly had the time to revel in his success. He couldn’t be everywhere at once, and the wolves had learned to be careful around him.
Instead, he heard Terrence cry out in pain. Florian turned his head to look, but by the time he found Terrence, the kindly old man had fallen to the ground, victim to a pair of Hellwolves. The man’s lifeblood leaked from his stomach, and the light in his eyes had dimmed until there was nothing at all.
Florian hobbled over, but the wolves retreated once more. Another scream, this time from one of the old women accompanying the group. “Grandma!” one of the children screamed, overcoming their fear and rushing forward with their knife outstretched. The girl made it to the wolf and stabbed for everything she was worth, forcing the monster away from the elderly woman who lied prone on the ground.
Again, Florian moved with as much speed as he could muster, but it simply wasn’t enough. He watched in slow motion as the girl was slaughtered where she stood, her battle cry abruptly dying in her small throat. The wolf – the same one he had wounded earlier – turned to look at Florian, grinning in a strangely human way, as if it were taunting him. It worked. Florian flew into a rage.
With more grace than he ever thought possible, he launched himself at the monster, surprising even the wolf when he slammed it with his mace for the second time that morning. This time, Florian took it with a vicious attack from above, bringing the mace down on its head. The spikes entered the thing’s head, causing black blood to spurt into the air. The wolf cried out in pain, but the wound proved fatal. The monster slumped to the ground; its golden body turned black.
Florian roared, turning swiftly to look at the other wolves. They had just begun an attack against the group again, but Florian could see the fear in their reptilian eyes. When Florian began to run at them, they slid to a halt, turning as quickly as they could and running back into the forest that had grown around the old highway.
All told, Terrence and the girl – Melanie – lay dead. The rest survived uninjured, but the shaking in their hands had yet to stop. Florian knew that for some, it might never stop. He’d be adding another nightmare to his carousel of dreams, and for some reason, he doubted that it would be the only tragedy he’d see by the time he returned to Dover. And when he did, Taylor would see a reckoning.