I grab the shoulders of one of his attackers and slam him down onto the dusty ground. His body rattles with the impact, and the look on his face is one of surprise more than anything else. Before he realizes what’s happening I stab my knife into his chest, aiming for his heart. The blade’s stuck in his breastbone. No time to pull it out. I run straight at the other one, punching the side of his head with enough force to knock him over. He scrambles back up, shakes his head clear, and rushes at me, holding a rifle by the barrel and swinging it around like a club. I duck his first clumsy strike, then, while he’s still off balance, thump my axe into the base of his spine. I shove his face down into the dirt to muffle his screams until I’m sure he’s dead.
Need to get under cover. We’re out of sight and there’s no sign of them yet, but the others will come looking for their people before long. Adam’s out cold, and my already slim chances of winning this one-sided fight have just been slashed even further. All I can do now is get out of the way and wait for the rest of these fuckers to move on. Trouble is, I realize as I shove my arms under Adam’s shoulders and start dragging him back toward the chemical storeroom, when they find the bodies of three of their own they’re not going to go anywhere. Then, as I reverse through the door and look back, I realize the tracks Adam’s feet have left in the gravel and dust will lead them straight to us.
I dump his useless, groaning bulk in the space on the floor where I slept last night. There’s a dribble of blood running from the corner of his mouth, but I can’t tell if it’s just his mouth that’s cut or whether his injuries are more serious. The way they were laying into him, I wouldn’t be surprised if his insides were well and truly fucked.
I stand up to lower the roller door back down, but it’s too late. There’s already another one of them standing over the bodies, and this one looks like he actually knows how to use the powerful rifle he’s carrying. He’s calling for reinforcements, but he hasn’t seen me. I duck down behind more of the acidic-smelling chemical sacks and watch him through a narrow gap between two waist-high piles. All I can see is his boots. As I’m watching, another two pairs of feet approach. I don’t think they’ve seen the tracks in the dirt yet, but it’s only a matter of time. It’s not like there’s anywhere else around here I’d be hiding. I try to stay calm and prepare myself mentally for the fight, working out which one I should attack first and which way I should run. Maybe running is the only option? Sorry, Adam, I think this is where we say our good-byes. Can’t see any way of getting him out of here now. Poor bastard’s three-quarters dead anyway.
Another two of them join the first three. Five to one-those are bad odds in anyone’s book. I’d have been better off taking my chances and lying flat on a pile of corpses. Wish I’d thought of that sooner. Perhaps I can still get over to that open grave…?
Here they come. One of them starts to walk toward this building. Christ, I don’t even have my knife with me. It’s still buried to the hilt in the gut of one of them. Maybe I can reach my backpack from here…
Wait. They’ve stopped.
Something’s distracted them. Figuring I’ve got nothing to lose, I slide across the floor to try to get a better view of what’s happening. They’re starting to move back toward the front of the building now. Can’t see why, but their weapons are raised. This is my chance to make a break for it. I get up, grab my backpack, and run back outside, then stop when one of the enemy scavengers goes flying past the front of the chemical storeroom. He skids along the ground, thrown like a rag doll, eventually landing in a heap in the dust a few yards from my feet. Another one of them reappears, this one running backward, trying to fire his rifle and at the same time retreat and defend himself from whatever it is that’s attacking. I’m right out in the open again now, my curiosity and bewilderment forcing common sense to take a backseat, and I can finally see what’s happening. The cavalry have arrived. Halle-fucking- lujah. At precisely the right moment a van full of our people has turned up at the site, and they’ve got two powerful and incredibly aggressive fuckers in tow who are making short work of any of the Unchanged stupid enough to stand in their way. The way these two are fighting is savage and brutal in the extreme, and it’s awe-inspiring to watch. They move with an agility and speed that belie their otherwise ordinary appearance. Totally focused on the kill, they are oblivious to everyone and everything else around them.
The old man I saw stripping corpses is hobbling toward me, a look of absolute fear plastered across his weathered face. He runs straight at me, yelling for help, too terrified to realize I’m going to kill him.
“Get out of here,” he tries to warn me, barely able to breathe. “They’ll-”
I end his sentence before he has a chance to. I grab his shock of white hair, yank his head back, and punch him hard in the throat. He collapses at my feet, choking. I snatch a knife from my backpack and finish him off. Suddenly feeling fired up and alive, I sprint down toward the battle that’s raging at the front of the building, desperate to kill again.
By the time I get there it’s over, the suddenly one-sided fight ended with incredible speed, force, and brutality by seven other people like Adam and me. None of them questions me. There’s an immediate, unspoken trust between us, and within minutes I’m helping them dump the bodies of the Unchanged with the thousands of others already here.
5
THESE PEOPLE ARE SURPRISINGLY well coordinated. There are seventeen of us here now including me and Adam, another group having just arrived on foot through the trees to the east of the cull site. I’ve stumbled into the middle of a preplanned rendezvous, and I’m going to take advantage of it while it lasts. They won’t be here long. Sticking together in large numbers is dangerous. It leaves us exposed.
They work quickly, hiding their vehicles in the shadows of the building and stripping the site of weapons and anything else of value. Guards patrol the perimeter constantly; others watch from the roof. The two most aggressive fighters are positioned one at either end of the building. As I walk toward the chemical storeroom with a short, stocky man, I notice that the fighter out back is shackled. She has a heavy-duty chain padlocked around her waist that’s anchored to a metal stake driven deep into the ground.
“What’s all that about?” I ask quietly, not wanting her to hear. He takes off his glasses and cleans the one remaining lens on the bottom corner of his shirt.
“You’ve not come across Brutes before?”
“Brutes?”
“That’s what we call them.”
“Them? You make it sound like they’re different from us.”
“Not really,” he sighs, like it’s an effort having to explain. “They’re the same as us, but extreme.”
“Extreme?”
“Are you the guy who was hiding here?”
“I wasn’t hiding, I just-”
“Why didn’t you attack?”
“What?”
“When those thieving bastards first turned up this morning, why didn’t you attack them?”
“Because I didn’t know how many of them there were. I didn’t know what weapons they had and-”
“Exactly,” he interrupts, replacing his glasses. “You knew there was a good chance you’d have been killed if you’d tried anything.”
“It wasn’t worth the risk.”
“Don’t blame you,” he says, leaning up against the side of the chemical storeroom and shielding his eyes from the climbing sun. “I’d probably have done the same.”
“So what’s your point?”
“The point is a Brute wouldn’t have held back. They can’t. They catch a scent of Unchanged and they’ll hunt them down and attack, no matter what the odds are.”
“Bloody hell…”
“Useful, though. They make good guard dogs! Always on the lookout. Just look at her.”
He nods over in the direction of the woman tied up at the back of the killing chamber. She’s almost constantly straining against her shackles, trying to break free and go after the enemy she knows is still out there somewhere. I’m transfixed by her face, flushed red and full of rage, and yet, in a different light, she doesn’t look like a killer at all. When she relaxes, her features are surprisingly soft, gentle, and feminine.
“She could just be someone’s mother.”
