Eight typeBs were sitting around the fire, their palms stretched towards the warmth in an oh-so-human way. But more alarming than that was the low hum of… chanting? Whatever they were saying, it wasn’t in any language he’d ever heard; it was more accurate to describe the noises as rhythmic grunts.
It was unclear if the typeB’s heard or smelt them first, but it didn’t matter. Once one of their heads snapped towards the officers, the others followed suit in a matter of milliseconds. A rumbling growl came from the one nearest to them, but instead of lunging towards them, it ran over to the church’s west wall. Beside him, Vitt sharply inhaled.
“Are those wind chimes?”
Noah squinted through his interface, zooming in on the type who’d left the fire. A loud chiming sound echoed through the quiet graveyard before his brain had a chance to process the lines of silver chimes, constructed of bundles of metal keys, dangling from the sloping roof.
“It’s a call to battle,” shouted Habib, “just like last time!”
“What?” said Lowenna.
Before any of them could reply, the earth erupted from beneath their feet.
Several soldiers jumped back as a gravestone flew several feet through the air, landing near Noah with a thud. From every angle, heavy thumping footsteps charged towards them. A circular stained-glass window at the top of the church tower shattered, raining shards of glass down to the ground. Terrified shouts, combined with the angry, snarling moans of the types who were jumping down from the tower, created a deafening cacophony.
“Why didn’t we know there were typesinthe church?” screamed Lowenna.
Brandon Penn’s reply—something about the drone not being able to get in through the locked door—was drowned out in the chaos.
“Everyone! Forget crossbows and daggers. Ignore everything I said earlier and fucking take them down. Now!” Lowenna unshouldered her rifle and flicked off the trigger guard to unload two rounds, her precise shots rendering two of the nearest types dead within seconds.
Do not think about Zeke.
Do not think about Zeke.
Do not think about Zeke.
Noah, flanked by Vitt and Habib, charged off away from the church to where types were emerging from everywhere—behind gravestones, jumping from trees, and, most disturbingly, out of marble coffins. Bullets whizzed through the air, finding their targets with squelches and gurgles or else ricocheting off stones with loud cracks. There was no dodging the speed of them. All he could do was pray the officers kept a clear head and didn’t get trigger-happy.
Noah, Vitt and Habib always had been the dream team from the first day they served together five years ago. Now, as he felt the awesome power of them beside him, he felt like a god. Like dancers performing a perfected routine, their synchronized movements formed an unbreakable bond, each step executed flawlessly as if they shared a single mind. Their weapons moved in perfect harmony, striking with precision and efficiency. With every fallen type, their confidence grew, fuelling their determination to eradicate the horde.
Noah’s combat suit became a canvas drenched in a grotesque tapestry of blood. Methodically, he discharged round after round, each shot finding its mark. The smell of blood in the air whipped the types into a frenzy, and it was hard to relate the creatures in front of him to the ones he’d observed around the fire moments ago.
“I’ve got three left before reload!” Vitt took another type down from at least ten metres away and pride swelled in Noah’s heart. “Make that two!”
“We’ll cover!”
Noah and Habib flanked her as she made quick work of reloading. He glanced around. They’d cleared most of this part of the cemetery. But next to the church tower, the carnage was still ensuing.
“Support required!” Krish’s voice echoed through Noah’s helmet as his interface brought up the area map, showing Krish’s location on the other side of the church.
“Habib and I will go,” said Vitt. “I can see Brodie over there by himself.” Vitt pointed in the distance, at the far edge of the graveyard’s perimeter. “He’s got himself backed into a corner.”
“On it,” said Noah. On his way to Brodie, he glanced back towards the fire, and blinked twice, slowing to a halt. What on earth was he seeing? Two typeBs held long, thick, tree branches with thick white cloth bundled onto the end of them. They dipped the cloth end into the fire, igniting the material into a vicious, fiery inferno. Next, they brandished their weapons like swords, swinging them wildly at officers, who jumped back, stunned.
“Holy fucking shit,” Noah said to nobody.
Gazing past the fire, something else caught his eye. A familiar, fluffy brown dog was tearing away in the direction of the iron fence, up a steep hill, four types stampeding after him.Wolf. His heart twisted in his chest and he forced his gaze back to Brodie. The man was alone, backed up against the corner of the iron fence. Brodie brandished his dagger—was he out of rounds already?—as a stream of types charged towards him.
Swallowing hard, Noah committed to joining him, jogging in his direction while firing to help Brodie take down the ones nearest to him.
But he couldn’t resist a quick glance back at Wolf.
His dog had reached the opposite fence now, and stood still, trapped, the four types surrounding him. They slashed out at him in turn with claws, dodging the rapid snaps of Wolf’s jaw as he tried to sink his teeth into them. Then, one typeB turned away from Wolf, distracted.
A lone soldier had left the fray by the tower and was charging up the hill towards Wolf. Relief surged through him, quickly replaced by glacial fear.
Because he knew who it was, even before his name flashed up on the screen, next to the sprinting figure.
