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THE DEATHWALKERS
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“They used to say that no one really came back from that place. That once you had been into the Heavenfield, it was like you left something of yourself behind. I saw grown men, servicemen — distinguished veterans mind, crying like children at the haunt that place put on them.
“But that was the difference, I guess, between them and us. We knew what we’d left behind in the Field. And we knew it would never let us return home. We had died in that place, and we made our peace with that.
“I guess it was for that reason they came to call us the Deathwalkers...”
Transcript from anonymous US Serviceman.
Debriefing following the Battle of The Dead City.
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image [https://www.ighulme.com/images/Deathwalkers-cover-400x600.webp]
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A Life Left Behind
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“MEDIC! I NEED A MEDIC HERE NOW!”
The deep roar cut through the chaos of the array hall and the heaving mass of troops. A towering figure pushed his way out from the narrow doorway of the array chamber. He brushed away the outstretched arms of the soldiers that lined the companionway, their features hidden beneath dust-covered visors.
The great man’s environment suit was battered and caked in red dust and corrosion, and he staggered a little under the weight of his burden: another suited soldier hanging limp in his arms.
“MEDIC!” he roared again, plowing on through the throng.
Everywhere was in chaos. Alarms blared out, echoing up into the darkened heights of the immense hall. A forest of pipes and gantries above the mass belched out steam and vapours, and fire-fighters battled to bring numerous small blazes under control.
And everywhere was the movement of men. Battle-weary or injured, suited soldiers staggered, or simply slumped to the floor in exhaustion or shock. Americans, British and Exiles milled about, all of them scarcely able to believe that they were home, back in the real world — alive.
A handful of British soldiers, conspicuous in their pristine environment suits, attempted to keep the troops moving towards the exits. They waved on the injured, keeping the evacuation from stalling.
One of the men, wearing the insignia of a military-policeman, was lifting the soldiers back to their feet, pushing them bodily towards the exits.
“KEEP MOVING!” he yelled over the chaos. “British and Americans, north exit — Exiles, south! American? north exit! Keep moving!”
The officer pushed another dazed soldier into the human tide and turned, looking up in surprise at the tall figure looming over him.
“Where’s the damn medic?” yelled the figure, his thick East European accent distorting through his respirator. The military-police officer paused for a second, glancing at the injured soldier lying limp in the man’s arms. After a moment’s hesitation, he yelled, “You’re Exile?”
He glanced over to one of his companions who was directing the flow of evacuees.
“Where’s the medic?” boomed the figure once again, ignoring the officer and gazing out over the heads of the soldiers.
“Is he American?” shouted the officer, looking down at the wounded man. “Put him down there, with the others, we’ll get to him as soon as we can.” He motioned over to a cordoned-off area beside the steps to the chamber. Rows of soldiers lay upon the floor; some writhed in pain, others, their helmets removed, stared blankly into the darkness. A low mound at one end of the line, covered by a tarpaulin, caught the big man’s attention. A row of mud-caked boots poked from beneath the cover, and a dark pool seeped out across the concrete.
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“Get me a medic, now!” hissed the man, turning back to the officer.
“They’ll get to him when they can — now put him with the others and head for the south exit — all Exiles south exit, British and American —”
The officer’s frustrated words were cut short as a gloved fist clamped around his neck. The wounded man gave a faint grunt as the tall figure let his legs fall, holding him upright with one arm. He pulled the officer towards him with his other hand.
“Get me a medic now or I’ll crush your throat.”
There was a shout a little way off, and two military-police spun around, raising their rifles.
“Let him go, right now, Exile!” shouted one, advancing cautiously. For a moment, the chaos around them seemed to freeze as soldiers turned to regard the scene.
“Get me a damn medic or I swear this one will be dead before you have a chance to shoot,” grunted the Exile, pulling the struggling officer closer to him. The man tore ineffectually at the Exile’s grasp.
“Take the bastard down!” he managed to gasp, fighting for breath. The two military-police took aim.
There was a high-pitched whine of guns charging all around them as a ring of soldiers emerged out of the chaos of dust-covered bodies. The two military-police looked around in panic — all guns were trained straight upon them.
“I suggest you do like the big man asks,” came a voice from somewhere within the crowd. The ranks moved aside as another soldier, captain’s stripes visible upon his battered suit, pushed his way past. He took a quick glance at the wounded soldier in the Exile’s arms then addressed the military-police officer who still struggled weakly to free himself.
“Get this man to a medic or I’ll shoot you myself,” he muttered calmly, pressing the muzzle of his rifle to the man’s visor.
“Please, we’re just trying to evacuate everyone,” stuttered the officer. “I’m just —”
“You’re wasting time,” cursed the captain, and there was a whine as his rifle charged. The other military-police looked on helplessly as the ring of American soldiers closed in on them, guns at the ready.
“No, wait! Through that door! There’s a triage set up! The medics are in there.”
“There, that’s all I needed,” drawled the captain. He nodded to the Exile, who released the officer, letting him slump to the floor, coughing and spluttering.
“The Exile can’t go in there!” he croaked as the big man headed off towards the door. Two of the American soldiers took up positions ahead of him, pushing their way through the throng. The others lowered their weapons and melted back into the crowds as the soldiers began to stream once more towards the exits. The two military-police lowered their weapons nervously.
“I was under strict orders that every Exile be accounted for,” coughed the officer, still on his knees. “Take your wounded man, Captain, but we can’t let that Exile out of this hall.”
The captain turned back to the stricken man, kneeling down beside him, his face up-close.
“You’re mistaken,” he whispered quietly, and the officer froze as he looked down to see the blade of a combat knife pressed between the metal plates of his suit. “That was no Exile you saw. That’s one of my men. You just forget what you think you saw and I’ll forget about you. Agreed?”
The officer shut his eyes, nodding nervously.
“Sure, sure — I didn’t see anything,” he gasped. He felt the pressure at his stomach removed, and he sighed in relief, opening his eyes. He looked around in confusion — there was no sign of the captain, only the tide of evacuating soldiers as they streamed past.
He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him to his feet.
“What the hell was all that about?” hissed his fellow MP, helping him up. The officer glanced over the crowd; the tall Exile, still carrying the injured American soldier, was just disappearing through the door to the medical bay.
“Nothing, it was nothing,” he muttered. “Get back to work, keep the lines moving.”
“But that was an Exile wasn’t it?” asked one cautiously. “We’re under express orders to detain every Exile that comes —”
“He wasn’t an Exile!” snapped the officer, unable to hide the hysterical edge to his voice. The way that American captain had spoken had left him badly shaken. He was in no doubt that the man’s words were not some hollow threat. There was killing in his voice. “He wasn’t an Exile,” he repeated quietly. “He was with the Americans. Forget about it — that’s an order. Now get back to your station.”
The officer glanced around, half-expecting to see the captain’s unnerving gaze somewhere amongst the crowd. But there was only the endless procession of battle-weary troops as they made their way to safety from out of the horror of the Heavenfield.
* * *
“Colonel Boynes, sir. The entry-point is becoming more unstable; we must go through soon, or we risk being trapped in the Field.”
Boynes didn’t appear to hear his officer. He stood, lost in thought, staring out across the valley.
Everywhere he looked, what had moments before been chaos and destruction was now a wondrous scene of lush grass interspersed with white and yellow flowers. The great carcasses of fallen demons were now gentle green mounds, and already, the smoke was lifting from the battle plain.
He could still hear the rumble of distant fighting as the angel horde chased the demons off across the valley. But even this sound was slowly dissipating like the last remnants of a summer storm.
He craned his neck, staring morosely up at the wrecked shape of the Divinity, the American flagship. It lay upon the ground where it had fallen, like some vast, corroded aircraft carrier that had been tossed far on to the land. It listed to one side, lazy trails of smoke still rising up into the blue skies.
The last of the wounded were being stretchered out from its loading ramp, snaking up the slopes in ragged lines towards the British entry-point.
“Sir?”
Boynes looked around, broken from his brooding thoughts.
“We really need to be going, sir,” repeated the officer.
Boynes took one last lingering look back to the towering vessel.
“You are sure that there is no way to get power restored to the Divinity?” he asked forlornly.
“None, sir. The power plant is destroyed.”
“And what about the fieldships? Did you check again?”
“Yes, sir,” sighed the officer. “We don’t have a single vessel that hasn’t sustained damage in the battle; nothing that could make it back to the US without extensive repairs first.”
“I don’t like this — abandoning everything like this. I don’t like it one bit.”
“No, sir.”
Boynes sighed wearily to himself.
“Looking at the beauty of this place now, it’s hard to believe the horrors that we have seen.”
He turned his back on the scene and followed the last of the soldiers up towards the entry-point and out of the Heavenfield.