Now that she was outside the barricades, Priss was getting her first look at what Kingsmouth must have been, before all this. Old houses with white picket fences and the American flag hanging over doorways. An old, but clearly lovingly maintained scooter parked on the sidewalk, unchained but safe. It seemed like a nice enough place. Of course, under normal circumstances, it was likely Priss would be uncomfortable and bored, but that was hardly the towns fault.
At the same time however, she could see signs of the current crisis. A car that had run up onto the sidewalk and crashed into a lamppost. A collection of shopping bags dropped and forgotten. And of course, another pack of zombies charging up the hill towards her.
The Knight Sabre didn’t even bother powering up her ranged weapons. Six undead puppets, armed with nothing more than their fingernails and teeth wouldn’t even scratch her hardsuits paint. Assuming they even managed to touch her. Smirking, she sped up slightly, meeting their charge with a wide punch that sent two of the zombies flying, one of them outright decapitated. Without slowing down, she followed through into a spin kick, ripping another two apart and scattering their remains across the road. The last two zombies, completely unaware that their ‘friends’ were gone, turned and lunged at her as she came to a stop behind them. Turning back towards them, Priss took the first one down with an open palm strike that caved in its chest and threw it backwards, bouncing it off the crashed car, then ducked the last zombies wild grab and brought her right fist up in an uppercut that caught the corpse in the jaw, sending it flying.
Shaking bits of rotting flesh off her hand, Priss sighed in irritation. “Freaking zombies,” she muttered. “God damned brainless meat puppets…” Starting down the street again, she muttered various curses about zombies and the people that raised them under her breath. Pausing, she tilted her head thoughtfully. “System: Access mission data,” she instructed her suit computer. “Give me Solomon Islands total population.”
“Latest census records place total population at 1,822,” her suit replied. The heroine tapped her fingers against her thigh thoughtfully as she walked along, considering the matter. Hopefully, the Sheriff's Office wasn’t the only place on the island still holding out against the undead, but even in a best case scenario, there could be over one and a half thousand zombies wandering the island. Trying to make a sweep of the island wasn’t really feasible. Even if they called in reinforcements, it would take forever, and if they missed any, sooner or later, some poor soul would find them. And of course, there was the issue of who or what had caused this disaster in the first place, and the question of just what the military and Orochi were up to.
Grumbling about Necromancers and Megacorps, Priss approached the bottom of the hill. On her left, there was the town's post office. To the right was a gas station, a pair of zombies standing next to the dumpster behind it. Between them lay what little remained of their latest meal, some sort of animal, maybe a raccoon, that hadn’t been quick enough to avoid them. Having indulged their instincts, the pair simply stood there, staring into space, waiting for something to get their attention. It appeared these weren’t the kind of zombies that would charge up a dark street just to satisfy their hunger for human flesh, which helped to support Robins theory that someone was sending them at the barricades.
Priss kept walking, approaching the intersection of Elm Street and Belmont Avenue, her eyes narrowing behind her visor. She could see the outline of a building on the far side of the road, but now she could see something else in front of it, standing on the street. A massive humanoid figure, still obscured by the mists, but as she got closer, details started to become visible. Twenty feet tall and misshapen, with arms that reached the ground and appeared to have claws instead of hands. And it appeared to have no head.
Coming to a stop about thirty feet short of the intersection, Priss considered the sight. She could see now that it actually did have a head. It was just receeded into the body, a mass of bone, muscle and coral growing above it. “What the hell…” she muttered under her breath. Once, it might have been human, and the center still showed traces of that origin, before it had changed, grown in unnatural ways. The skin and flesh was grey, rotten and water damaged. Its torso had split open, revealing a vertical mouth running down its ribcage. Its original right arm stuck out underneath the massive claw arm, twitching occasionally.
As she stared at the beast, and the small collection of zombies gathering obediently around it, something in the depths of the woman's soul stirred slightly. For a heartbeat, Priss could see ancient battles, a hole in the world, and a damned victory, those that had triumphed condemned to the hands of their enemy. The moment passed, that part of her soul returned to its comfortable slumber, and she whispered a single word. “Draug.”
Twitching, the Draug turned towards her, milk-white eyes staring at nothing. "Hvað er þetta? A lítil stúlka að spila á að vera riddari... " he said at last, his voice gurgling like a drowning man. His claws snapped together, ringing like steel as he laughed. "Ert þú hér að skora mig? Til að reyna að keyra okkur aftur í sjóinn? Þessi eyja er okkar nú, litla stúlku. Við erum það verð sem þú borgar fyrir græðgi þeirra. Faðma þinn endir. Látum dauða kröfu þér, og finna nýja heimurinn við munum gera frá leifar þínum."
The Knight Sabre stared at him for a moment, the visible part of her face thoughtful. “Yeah… I got no idea what you’re saying,” she said at last. “Lemme guess though. Threats of violence and murder?” she added with a grin.
Growling, the creature waved a claw at her. “Rífa hana frá skel og rífa hana!” he roared. Snarling, the zombies obeyed, running up the street towards her.
Rolling her eyes, Priss powered up her suits weapons. Instantly, her right forearm began to transform, panels sliding out of the way to reveal several components that unfolded and locked together into a small cannon about the length of her forearm. The zombies were about ten feet away when she raised her arm and fired, the air rippling as the concussion wave races outwards. All five of the animated corpses ran face first into the shockwave and were sent flying backwards, past the Draug and into the building behind him.
Turning, the monster considered the broken corpses for a moment, then turned back towards Street Sabre. “Svo, það er einhver kraftur í þér eftir allt saman, litla stúlkan,” he rumbled, eyes narrowing. “Hvað ertu?”
As the concussion blaster folded away, Priss smirked slightly. “No puppets this time,” she said. “Now, are you going to cooperate, or are you going to be an ass-” With a roar loud enough to be heard at the barricades, the Draug charged. “You’re gonna be an asshole,” she finished, breaking into a run of her own. Right before they collided, she dodged to the left, avoiding one of the Draugs massive claws as it came down hard enough to crater the concrete. Jumping, she drove a fist into his stomach, then fired her suit thrusters for a bit of a boost and proceeded to punch him in the face for good measure.
Stumbling back, the creature regained his footing faster than Priss was expecting. The moment her feet touched the ground, she had to duck to avoid a claw as it swung through where she was standing, glancing off one of her arms with a shriek of metal against stone. Gritting her teeth, Priss braced herself, then attacked again, this time with a uppercut that had a lot more power behind it. Her first blows would have driven a War Wolf to its knees, but this one would put an IDF Commander flat on his back.
It seemed to at least have some effect on the Draug, getting a roar of pain from the creature and driving him back several feet. Priss landed, crouched slightly, then lunged forward. A heartbeat later, she realised her mistake. A massive claw as big as she was slammed into her chest, throwing her back across the intersection and into the Post Office’s parking lot.
“OwFUCK!” Priss yelled as she collided with the front of the postal van and was promptly buried in the engine. As the dust began to settle, the Draug laughed in triumph, snapping its claws together. Then his laugh trailed off, a baffled expression slipping onto his face as Street Sabre climbed to her feet and stepped out of the ruined vehicle. As he stared at her in disbelief, she tested her left shoulder, wincing slightly, then smirked at him. “So… looks like I get to actually cut loose a little on you.”
And with that said, she threw the van at him. Eyes widening, the Draug braced himself, bringing his arms up to shield his face. The impact still sent him reeling, knocking him back across the street until he skidded to a halt in front of the gas station. Before he could recover, Street Sabre charged in, thrusters roaring. Using the postal van as a springboard, she dived on the monster from above, the knuckles on her left gauntlet glowing with energy as she slammed it into the Draugs right forearm.
The resulting explosion blasted the Draugs claw open, spraying coral, bone and rotting flesh across the street. Roaring in agony, he lashed out with his other arm, claw open in an attempt to grab her. But the woman was faster than him, and she was underneath the swing and closing in again before he realised it. She didn’t use the knuckle bombers this time, but the Draug bellowed in pain as his left kneecap shattered.
As he dropped into a crouch, leaning on his uninjured arm, he glared at Street Sabre. “ég drep þig,” he snarled. “Dauðinn verður efni í martraðir! Daga, vikur sársauka og kvöl! Ég lofa þér-” Whatever he was saying, the heroine ended it with a booster assisted spin kick that slammed into the Draugs face and threw him back, over the fence and onto the beach beyond.
“And that’s you down for a while,” Street said in a tone of profound satisfaction. “Now then, I need rope. Or maybe some cable...” Her musing was interrupted by a series of gurgling growls from the direction of the beach, and her shoulders slumped as understanding set in. “There’s more of you, isn’t there? Of course there is,” she muttered, stalking towards the fence.
Her previous opponent was out cold, half buried in the sand at the end of a short trench his body had dug. Gathered around him was about half a dozen smaller creatures, mostly human in size and shape, but with the beginnings of similar mutations, coral growing out of their arms into crude weapons. Beyond them, Street Sabre could see the shoreline, several dozen zombies and Draug emerging from the Fog. Several of the Draug, seemingly the females of the species, were particularly disgusting, a nest of tentacles having burst from the remains of their intestines, probing at the air in front of them. And past them, somewhere in the sea…
For several long moments, Priss considered the gathering army and what lurked in the grey waters beyond. Then she turned to look at that first Draug again, smirking bitterly at how the smaller monsters backed away slightly. “I should’ve guessed you bastards wouldn’t be the end of it,” she growled, before turning away and starting the walk back to the Sheriff's Office.
None of the undead had the courage to follow.
***
Throughout his long career, both as a police officer in the madness that was Paragon, and as a registered hero, Leon had dealt with situations like this more than he was really comfortable thinking about. He had seen countless people thrown into nightmare situations, and he had seen many, quite understandably, break under the strain.
Helen Bannerman wasn’t at that point yet. But as she turned back to the rough map of Solomon someone had drawn on the the whiteboard, Leon could see the exhaustion and grief starting to slip through. She’d held it at bay for days, letting the constant danger, the adrenaline, and the need to save as many of her people as she could distract her. It was instinct, rather than any deliberate act, but it had kept her moving.
But grief could be relentless. Now that there were others here that could take the burden off her shoulders, her mind was starting to wander off down dangerous paths. Letting her mind linger on that was inviting trouble. Glancing over at Purrfect Archer, he wasn’t surprised when the tigress met his eyes and nodded slightly in agreement. He’d clearly been thinking loud enough to catch her attention.
“Phones are out, and the radio’s spotty as heck,” Helen grumbled, “but last I heard, the Wabanaki Trailer Park, up by the casino, was still lit up. Folks were still holding out even after the dead came marching back in. Sent one of my Deputies, young Sam Thompson, to check the roads, see if we could move people there, try and regroup in one place.” She sighed, shaking her head . “That was yesterday, and according to Red-” she tapped a spot on the map well south of the trailer park, “he never even made it there to check in.”
“And what about the school?” Robin asked.
Scowling, Helen rubbed at her neck. “I wasn’t that far from there when this all kicked off. I was up at the old lighthouse, checkin’ in on that fool Sam Krieg.”
Leon raised an eyebrow. “The horror writer?”
“Maine’s number one export, to hear him tell it,” the Sheriff replied dryly. “He was in town for a book signing last week. Never much cared for horror stories, or the man himself.” She snorted in disgust. “Wavin’ a rifle around in a dressing gown, juiced up, heck of a disturbance of the peace.” The annoyance faded, replaced by pain. “That was the last of the peace… I went by the school right after the Fog left, before the dead came back. A few people are still there, saved one way or another, hiding behind magic wards. Everyone else took the same walk.”
“Dammit,” Alice growed, closing her eyes for a moment. “What about the lights to the north of here?” she asked. “There wasn’t anything about them on the maps.”
“Ayuh, there wouldn’t be,” Andy replied, clearly surprised. “That ain’t what one would call a permanent settlement, you know?” Rubbing at his jaw, the young man shook his head. “Jeez, wouldn’t have thought they’d still be up there. Fog went and got everyone outside, after all, and after Jack didn’t come back from up there…” the youth's voice trailed off, his expression thoughtful.
Helen took over the explanation. “It’s a camp site. Spiritual retreat, least that’s what the residents call it. They set up there about a month back, without the permission of the landowner, I should note,” she added, rolling her eyes. “We would have just kicked them out, but they went and called in their lawyers even before old Tom filed his first complaint.” Reaching over her desk, she picked up an old clipboard that was barely holding onto the mass of crumpled paperwork on it. “So instead, we had him coming in two, three times a day, filing complaints and giving us grief over not dealing with the ‘dang Morninglight hippies.’”
The heroes very carefully didn’t react to the word ‘Morninglight’. All three of them had experience with the religious organisation, very little of it pleasant. The fact that they were here, now, was not welcoming news.
Shrugging slightly, Leon stepped closer to the whiteboard, considering the map. “Might not hurt to check it out,” he mused, keeping his tone relatively casual. “If they’re alive, we at least should make sure they’re alright.” Helen nodded in agreement, her own expression thoughtful. Turning towards her, the man put his hands in his pockets. “What about the bridge?”
Grumbling slightly, Helen waved a hand. “Not a dang clue,” she admitted. “We know there’s someone up there, and they’ve got aircraft, parked there or at the airport. They’ve flown over us a few times, but not once have they even tried to contact us," she added with a near-snarl, throwing the clipboard back onto her desk.
“That’s where Jack was going,” Andy explained. “To see what was going on up there, right? That was three days ago.” The young mans shoulders slumped and he shook his head.
Ears and tail twitching as she considered, Purrfect Archer folded her arms under her breasts. “One or two of us might have a better chance of getting up there,” she offered, earning a thoughtful look from the Sheriff. “It wouldn’t be the first forest full of monsters I’ve had to sneak through,” she added with a grin.
For a moment, Helen grinned back, the stress vanishing from her face. Then it grabbed her again, and she frowned. "If they're the ones that chased off your plane, they probably won't be happy to see you," she warned.
Cracking his knuckles, Leon gave the woman a smile that was all teeth. "From what you're saying, they left you to fend off a zombie invasion while they dicked around doing God knows what," he growled. "Trust me, they're going to be very unhappy by the time we're done with them."
The soft sound of hydraulics caught everyone's attention, and they turned to see Street Sabre enter the building, a playful grin on the visible half of her face, her hardsuit showing some minor damage. "Whose ass are we kicking now?" she asked.
"One of your favorites. Men in Black helicopters watching from the shadows," Alice replied dryly. Street laughed lightly, rubbing her hands together in anticipation, and the tigress shook her head in amusement. "Brute."
"Eyup," the Knight Sabre replied, unconcerned.
Suppressing a laugh, Andy held up a thermos. "Care for some coffee? It's not exactly the best brew around, in fact it’s kinda foul…”
“Coffee is coffee,” she replied cheerfully, grabbing a mug from the table. As the deputy poured her drink, she glanced over at the others, expression turning more serious. “So, I found the asshole that was sending zombies this way. Pretty sure he was just a lackey. Still, beat the shit out of him on general principles.”
Leon snorted, looking her over. “Looks to me like he got a few good hits in himself,” he noted.
Accepting the coffee with a polite nod, Priss shrugged. “Guy’s the size of a war walker. Hits almost as hard, and he’s faster. Anyhow, my suits battlecomp called him a Draug.” Which, Leon knew, was her preferred cover story for when the knowledge came from her odd, mystic side. “It didn’t have any real details on them though,” she added, downing a mouthful of coffee. Wincing, she glanced over at Leon. “Almost as bad as your brew.”
“I’ll have mother look into it when I call her,” Alice said. “There might be something on them in the base computers, or the Midnight Archives.”
Priss nodded, then sighed. “Like I said, I beat the crap out of him, but he’s not the only freak down there. The beach has Draug all over it. I dunno why they’re not moving into town, but… I saw a lot more movement out in the water. I got the impression that if I pushed my luck too much down there, they’d start marching on in.”
Closing her eyes for a moment, Alice growled slightly in frustration. “This isn’t just some spell gone wrong or would-be necromancer. It’s sounding a lot like an invasion.” Opening her eyes, she looked over at the Sheriff. “I know we need to get out there, but I don’t like the idea of leaving you guys here without some heavy backup. Not if we’ve got monsters camping a few blocks away.”
Dropping into her chair, Helen leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desk. “I reckon you might have a point there,” she admitted, taking a moment to think. “Back outside, you said you didn’t think you could get people out. What about getting people in?” Alice twitched one ear, curious, and the Sheriff gave her a lopsided grin. “Four people, even folk with reputations like yours, are gonna have a lot of ground to cover. Maybe we should try calling in backup.”
Smirking, Purrfect Archer held up a hand, her phone appearing out of thin air. “Works for me,” she said. “Lemme make some calls.”
“In the meantime,” Helen said to the other heroes, “if you’re planning on heading out into town, how about we start planning...” she paused, then smirked, picking up a phone book and opening it to show the town map on the inside of the cover. “Let’s call it ‘requisitioning’, shall we?”
Chuckling, Robin leaned in to take a closer look. “Nice choice of words. Ideas on where we should start?”
***
At the same time however, she could see signs of the current crisis. A car that had run up onto the sidewalk and crashed into a lamppost. A collection of shopping bags dropped and forgotten. And of course, another pack of zombies charging up the hill towards her.
The Knight Sabre didn’t even bother powering up her ranged weapons. Six undead puppets, armed with nothing more than their fingernails and teeth wouldn’t even scratch her hardsuits paint. Assuming they even managed to touch her. Smirking, she sped up slightly, meeting their charge with a wide punch that sent two of the zombies flying, one of them outright decapitated. Without slowing down, she followed through into a spin kick, ripping another two apart and scattering their remains across the road. The last two zombies, completely unaware that their ‘friends’ were gone, turned and lunged at her as she came to a stop behind them. Turning back towards them, Priss took the first one down with an open palm strike that caved in its chest and threw it backwards, bouncing it off the crashed car, then ducked the last zombies wild grab and brought her right fist up in an uppercut that caught the corpse in the jaw, sending it flying.
Shaking bits of rotting flesh off her hand, Priss sighed in irritation. “Freaking zombies,” she muttered. “God damned brainless meat puppets…” Starting down the street again, she muttered various curses about zombies and the people that raised them under her breath. Pausing, she tilted her head thoughtfully. “System: Access mission data,” she instructed her suit computer. “Give me Solomon Islands total population.”
“Latest census records place total population at 1,822,” her suit replied. The heroine tapped her fingers against her thigh thoughtfully as she walked along, considering the matter. Hopefully, the Sheriff's Office wasn’t the only place on the island still holding out against the undead, but even in a best case scenario, there could be over one and a half thousand zombies wandering the island. Trying to make a sweep of the island wasn’t really feasible. Even if they called in reinforcements, it would take forever, and if they missed any, sooner or later, some poor soul would find them. And of course, there was the issue of who or what had caused this disaster in the first place, and the question of just what the military and Orochi were up to.
Grumbling about Necromancers and Megacorps, Priss approached the bottom of the hill. On her left, there was the town's post office. To the right was a gas station, a pair of zombies standing next to the dumpster behind it. Between them lay what little remained of their latest meal, some sort of animal, maybe a raccoon, that hadn’t been quick enough to avoid them. Having indulged their instincts, the pair simply stood there, staring into space, waiting for something to get their attention. It appeared these weren’t the kind of zombies that would charge up a dark street just to satisfy their hunger for human flesh, which helped to support Robins theory that someone was sending them at the barricades.
Priss kept walking, approaching the intersection of Elm Street and Belmont Avenue, her eyes narrowing behind her visor. She could see the outline of a building on the far side of the road, but now she could see something else in front of it, standing on the street. A massive humanoid figure, still obscured by the mists, but as she got closer, details started to become visible. Twenty feet tall and misshapen, with arms that reached the ground and appeared to have claws instead of hands. And it appeared to have no head.
Coming to a stop about thirty feet short of the intersection, Priss considered the sight. She could see now that it actually did have a head. It was just receeded into the body, a mass of bone, muscle and coral growing above it. “What the hell…” she muttered under her breath. Once, it might have been human, and the center still showed traces of that origin, before it had changed, grown in unnatural ways. The skin and flesh was grey, rotten and water damaged. Its torso had split open, revealing a vertical mouth running down its ribcage. Its original right arm stuck out underneath the massive claw arm, twitching occasionally.
As she stared at the beast, and the small collection of zombies gathering obediently around it, something in the depths of the woman's soul stirred slightly. For a heartbeat, Priss could see ancient battles, a hole in the world, and a damned victory, those that had triumphed condemned to the hands of their enemy. The moment passed, that part of her soul returned to its comfortable slumber, and she whispered a single word. “Draug.”
Twitching, the Draug turned towards her, milk-white eyes staring at nothing. "Hvað er þetta? A lítil stúlka að spila á að vera riddari... " he said at last, his voice gurgling like a drowning man. His claws snapped together, ringing like steel as he laughed. "Ert þú hér að skora mig? Til að reyna að keyra okkur aftur í sjóinn? Þessi eyja er okkar nú, litla stúlku. Við erum það verð sem þú borgar fyrir græðgi þeirra. Faðma þinn endir. Látum dauða kröfu þér, og finna nýja heimurinn við munum gera frá leifar þínum."
The Knight Sabre stared at him for a moment, the visible part of her face thoughtful. “Yeah… I got no idea what you’re saying,” she said at last. “Lemme guess though. Threats of violence and murder?” she added with a grin.
Growling, the creature waved a claw at her. “Rífa hana frá skel og rífa hana!” he roared. Snarling, the zombies obeyed, running up the street towards her.
Rolling her eyes, Priss powered up her suits weapons. Instantly, her right forearm began to transform, panels sliding out of the way to reveal several components that unfolded and locked together into a small cannon about the length of her forearm. The zombies were about ten feet away when she raised her arm and fired, the air rippling as the concussion wave races outwards. All five of the animated corpses ran face first into the shockwave and were sent flying backwards, past the Draug and into the building behind him.
Turning, the monster considered the broken corpses for a moment, then turned back towards Street Sabre. “Svo, það er einhver kraftur í þér eftir allt saman, litla stúlkan,” he rumbled, eyes narrowing. “Hvað ertu?”
As the concussion blaster folded away, Priss smirked slightly. “No puppets this time,” she said. “Now, are you going to cooperate, or are you going to be an ass-” With a roar loud enough to be heard at the barricades, the Draug charged. “You’re gonna be an asshole,” she finished, breaking into a run of her own. Right before they collided, she dodged to the left, avoiding one of the Draugs massive claws as it came down hard enough to crater the concrete. Jumping, she drove a fist into his stomach, then fired her suit thrusters for a bit of a boost and proceeded to punch him in the face for good measure.
Stumbling back, the creature regained his footing faster than Priss was expecting. The moment her feet touched the ground, she had to duck to avoid a claw as it swung through where she was standing, glancing off one of her arms with a shriek of metal against stone. Gritting her teeth, Priss braced herself, then attacked again, this time with a uppercut that had a lot more power behind it. Her first blows would have driven a War Wolf to its knees, but this one would put an IDF Commander flat on his back.
It seemed to at least have some effect on the Draug, getting a roar of pain from the creature and driving him back several feet. Priss landed, crouched slightly, then lunged forward. A heartbeat later, she realised her mistake. A massive claw as big as she was slammed into her chest, throwing her back across the intersection and into the Post Office’s parking lot.
“OwFUCK!” Priss yelled as she collided with the front of the postal van and was promptly buried in the engine. As the dust began to settle, the Draug laughed in triumph, snapping its claws together. Then his laugh trailed off, a baffled expression slipping onto his face as Street Sabre climbed to her feet and stepped out of the ruined vehicle. As he stared at her in disbelief, she tested her left shoulder, wincing slightly, then smirked at him. “So… looks like I get to actually cut loose a little on you.”
And with that said, she threw the van at him. Eyes widening, the Draug braced himself, bringing his arms up to shield his face. The impact still sent him reeling, knocking him back across the street until he skidded to a halt in front of the gas station. Before he could recover, Street Sabre charged in, thrusters roaring. Using the postal van as a springboard, she dived on the monster from above, the knuckles on her left gauntlet glowing with energy as she slammed it into the Draugs right forearm.
The resulting explosion blasted the Draugs claw open, spraying coral, bone and rotting flesh across the street. Roaring in agony, he lashed out with his other arm, claw open in an attempt to grab her. But the woman was faster than him, and she was underneath the swing and closing in again before he realised it. She didn’t use the knuckle bombers this time, but the Draug bellowed in pain as his left kneecap shattered.
As he dropped into a crouch, leaning on his uninjured arm, he glared at Street Sabre. “ég drep þig,” he snarled. “Dauðinn verður efni í martraðir! Daga, vikur sársauka og kvöl! Ég lofa þér-” Whatever he was saying, the heroine ended it with a booster assisted spin kick that slammed into the Draugs face and threw him back, over the fence and onto the beach beyond.
“And that’s you down for a while,” Street said in a tone of profound satisfaction. “Now then, I need rope. Or maybe some cable...” Her musing was interrupted by a series of gurgling growls from the direction of the beach, and her shoulders slumped as understanding set in. “There’s more of you, isn’t there? Of course there is,” she muttered, stalking towards the fence.
Her previous opponent was out cold, half buried in the sand at the end of a short trench his body had dug. Gathered around him was about half a dozen smaller creatures, mostly human in size and shape, but with the beginnings of similar mutations, coral growing out of their arms into crude weapons. Beyond them, Street Sabre could see the shoreline, several dozen zombies and Draug emerging from the Fog. Several of the Draug, seemingly the females of the species, were particularly disgusting, a nest of tentacles having burst from the remains of their intestines, probing at the air in front of them. And past them, somewhere in the sea…
For several long moments, Priss considered the gathering army and what lurked in the grey waters beyond. Then she turned to look at that first Draug again, smirking bitterly at how the smaller monsters backed away slightly. “I should’ve guessed you bastards wouldn’t be the end of it,” she growled, before turning away and starting the walk back to the Sheriff's Office.
None of the undead had the courage to follow.
***
Throughout his long career, both as a police officer in the madness that was Paragon, and as a registered hero, Leon had dealt with situations like this more than he was really comfortable thinking about. He had seen countless people thrown into nightmare situations, and he had seen many, quite understandably, break under the strain.
Helen Bannerman wasn’t at that point yet. But as she turned back to the rough map of Solomon someone had drawn on the the whiteboard, Leon could see the exhaustion and grief starting to slip through. She’d held it at bay for days, letting the constant danger, the adrenaline, and the need to save as many of her people as she could distract her. It was instinct, rather than any deliberate act, but it had kept her moving.
But grief could be relentless. Now that there were others here that could take the burden off her shoulders, her mind was starting to wander off down dangerous paths. Letting her mind linger on that was inviting trouble. Glancing over at Purrfect Archer, he wasn’t surprised when the tigress met his eyes and nodded slightly in agreement. He’d clearly been thinking loud enough to catch her attention.
“Phones are out, and the radio’s spotty as heck,” Helen grumbled, “but last I heard, the Wabanaki Trailer Park, up by the casino, was still lit up. Folks were still holding out even after the dead came marching back in. Sent one of my Deputies, young Sam Thompson, to check the roads, see if we could move people there, try and regroup in one place.” She sighed, shaking her head . “That was yesterday, and according to Red-” she tapped a spot on the map well south of the trailer park, “he never even made it there to check in.”
“And what about the school?” Robin asked.
Scowling, Helen rubbed at her neck. “I wasn’t that far from there when this all kicked off. I was up at the old lighthouse, checkin’ in on that fool Sam Krieg.”
Leon raised an eyebrow. “The horror writer?”
“Maine’s number one export, to hear him tell it,” the Sheriff replied dryly. “He was in town for a book signing last week. Never much cared for horror stories, or the man himself.” She snorted in disgust. “Wavin’ a rifle around in a dressing gown, juiced up, heck of a disturbance of the peace.” The annoyance faded, replaced by pain. “That was the last of the peace… I went by the school right after the Fog left, before the dead came back. A few people are still there, saved one way or another, hiding behind magic wards. Everyone else took the same walk.”
“Dammit,” Alice growed, closing her eyes for a moment. “What about the lights to the north of here?” she asked. “There wasn’t anything about them on the maps.”
“Ayuh, there wouldn’t be,” Andy replied, clearly surprised. “That ain’t what one would call a permanent settlement, you know?” Rubbing at his jaw, the young man shook his head. “Jeez, wouldn’t have thought they’d still be up there. Fog went and got everyone outside, after all, and after Jack didn’t come back from up there…” the youth's voice trailed off, his expression thoughtful.
Helen took over the explanation. “It’s a camp site. Spiritual retreat, least that’s what the residents call it. They set up there about a month back, without the permission of the landowner, I should note,” she added, rolling her eyes. “We would have just kicked them out, but they went and called in their lawyers even before old Tom filed his first complaint.” Reaching over her desk, she picked up an old clipboard that was barely holding onto the mass of crumpled paperwork on it. “So instead, we had him coming in two, three times a day, filing complaints and giving us grief over not dealing with the ‘dang Morninglight hippies.’”
The heroes very carefully didn’t react to the word ‘Morninglight’. All three of them had experience with the religious organisation, very little of it pleasant. The fact that they were here, now, was not welcoming news.
Shrugging slightly, Leon stepped closer to the whiteboard, considering the map. “Might not hurt to check it out,” he mused, keeping his tone relatively casual. “If they’re alive, we at least should make sure they’re alright.” Helen nodded in agreement, her own expression thoughtful. Turning towards her, the man put his hands in his pockets. “What about the bridge?”
Grumbling slightly, Helen waved a hand. “Not a dang clue,” she admitted. “We know there’s someone up there, and they’ve got aircraft, parked there or at the airport. They’ve flown over us a few times, but not once have they even tried to contact us," she added with a near-snarl, throwing the clipboard back onto her desk.
“That’s where Jack was going,” Andy explained. “To see what was going on up there, right? That was three days ago.” The young mans shoulders slumped and he shook his head.
Ears and tail twitching as she considered, Purrfect Archer folded her arms under her breasts. “One or two of us might have a better chance of getting up there,” she offered, earning a thoughtful look from the Sheriff. “It wouldn’t be the first forest full of monsters I’ve had to sneak through,” she added with a grin.
For a moment, Helen grinned back, the stress vanishing from her face. Then it grabbed her again, and she frowned. "If they're the ones that chased off your plane, they probably won't be happy to see you," she warned.
Cracking his knuckles, Leon gave the woman a smile that was all teeth. "From what you're saying, they left you to fend off a zombie invasion while they dicked around doing God knows what," he growled. "Trust me, they're going to be very unhappy by the time we're done with them."
The soft sound of hydraulics caught everyone's attention, and they turned to see Street Sabre enter the building, a playful grin on the visible half of her face, her hardsuit showing some minor damage. "Whose ass are we kicking now?" she asked.
"One of your favorites. Men in Black helicopters watching from the shadows," Alice replied dryly. Street laughed lightly, rubbing her hands together in anticipation, and the tigress shook her head in amusement. "Brute."
"Eyup," the Knight Sabre replied, unconcerned.
Suppressing a laugh, Andy held up a thermos. "Care for some coffee? It's not exactly the best brew around, in fact it’s kinda foul…”
“Coffee is coffee,” she replied cheerfully, grabbing a mug from the table. As the deputy poured her drink, she glanced over at the others, expression turning more serious. “So, I found the asshole that was sending zombies this way. Pretty sure he was just a lackey. Still, beat the shit out of him on general principles.”
Leon snorted, looking her over. “Looks to me like he got a few good hits in himself,” he noted.
Accepting the coffee with a polite nod, Priss shrugged. “Guy’s the size of a war walker. Hits almost as hard, and he’s faster. Anyhow, my suits battlecomp called him a Draug.” Which, Leon knew, was her preferred cover story for when the knowledge came from her odd, mystic side. “It didn’t have any real details on them though,” she added, downing a mouthful of coffee. Wincing, she glanced over at Leon. “Almost as bad as your brew.”
“I’ll have mother look into it when I call her,” Alice said. “There might be something on them in the base computers, or the Midnight Archives.”
Priss nodded, then sighed. “Like I said, I beat the crap out of him, but he’s not the only freak down there. The beach has Draug all over it. I dunno why they’re not moving into town, but… I saw a lot more movement out in the water. I got the impression that if I pushed my luck too much down there, they’d start marching on in.”
Closing her eyes for a moment, Alice growled slightly in frustration. “This isn’t just some spell gone wrong or would-be necromancer. It’s sounding a lot like an invasion.” Opening her eyes, she looked over at the Sheriff. “I know we need to get out there, but I don’t like the idea of leaving you guys here without some heavy backup. Not if we’ve got monsters camping a few blocks away.”
Dropping into her chair, Helen leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desk. “I reckon you might have a point there,” she admitted, taking a moment to think. “Back outside, you said you didn’t think you could get people out. What about getting people in?” Alice twitched one ear, curious, and the Sheriff gave her a lopsided grin. “Four people, even folk with reputations like yours, are gonna have a lot of ground to cover. Maybe we should try calling in backup.”
Smirking, Purrfect Archer held up a hand, her phone appearing out of thin air. “Works for me,” she said. “Lemme make some calls.”
“In the meantime,” Helen said to the other heroes, “if you’re planning on heading out into town, how about we start planning...” she paused, then smirked, picking up a phone book and opening it to show the town map on the inside of the cover. “Let’s call it ‘requisitioning’, shall we?”
Chuckling, Robin leaned in to take a closer look. “Nice choice of words. Ideas on where we should start?”
***