Thomas rubbed his jaw, eyes open wide. “W-Why are you here?”
Mass shrugged. “To rescue you.”
“W-Wanstead sent you? He sent you?”
“Another surprise I’ll bet.”
Thomas pushed himself up straight, removing the helping hands that had been keeping him from falling. When he spoke, it was like he was talking to himself. “I led an army – a great army – to destroy our enemy, and instead it destroyed us. A man I thought dead turns up and claims to want to rescue me. He acts like he wants to do the opposite. What did I do to deserve such unpredictable madness? Where did I go wrong?”
Mass growled. “Sort it out with your therapist. I’m here to get you and your boys back to the docks.”
Thomas seemed to snap back to reality. He looked at Mass and nodded. “These men are all I have left. We are wounded and poorly armed, so if you’ve come to rescue us, I thank you.”
Mass glanced back at Addy and Smithy, but neither gave anything away. Once again, Mass was out of his depth. Part of him still wanted, more than anything, to just blow this old fucker away, but that would mean killing a wounded man in cold blood. He realised now why Damien had refused to do the deed. There was a line between a soldier and a killer, and Mass wanted to stay on the right side of it. “The city can be navigated if we stick to the side streets. The demons are mostly moving down the main roads towards the docks. If we move fast, we can get back behind the walls from the south before the main invasion begins.”
Thomas reached a trembling hand to his waist. At first Mass feared the old man was going for his gun, but he merely lifted his shirt. Underneath was a blood-soaked bandage. “One of the buggers got me quite badly, I’m afraid. We were right outside the city – home free, I thought. It seems I was mistaken. If I can get my remaining men to safety, perhaps I can atone for some of my failures.”
Mass thought about Amanda Wickstaff and shook his head. “You can’t, but at least no more men have to die because of your arrogance.”
Thomas swallowed, but Mass wasn’t sure if it was guilt or something else. He detected a hint of aggression in the wounded old man. “Yes, well, I suppose war makes monsters of us all.”
“Sometimes it makes heroes. Okay, what are we dealing with here? I saw rooms full of injured men and women. Can any of them walk?”
“I would say most of them can if there’s a promise of safety. Those mortally wounded collapsed on the road before we made it here.”
“And how many of your people are armed?”
“With ammunition? I would say perhaps three hundred. We were forced to retreat with what we had on us. Most of our ammunition is lying in a field in Winchester.”
Mass shook his head. He wanted to condemn the old man, but he had experienced his own set of failures recently. Being in charge was a thankless task, and blaming Thomas wasn’t going to help anything right now. “Okay, Thomas, you have your radio?”
“I do.”
“Then put in a call to Wanstead. Tell him we’ll be coming in from the south-east. We’re going to move wide around the city, avoiding the demons heading directly for the docks. Also, call the boats and have them clear us a path. You still have the authority to call in artillery, right?”
“Of course. I might be at death’s door, but I am still the ranking official in Portsmouth.”
“Not in my eyes you aren’t. Tell your men we’re falling out in one hour. Anyone too injured to move is going to need a pair of buddies to carry them, or they’ll have to stay here and pray there’s someone left alive after all this to rescue them.”
Smithy stepped forward. “Um, shouldn’t we just stay here? I mean, this place is a fort. Will it really be that much safer back at Portsmouth?”
“This place is a tourist attraction,” said Thomas. “The main buildings can’t be secured. There are hundreds of windows filled with nothing but air. We can’t defend this place.”
Smithy nodded. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.” He then gave an awkward salute.
Mass turned to Addy. “Put in a call to Cullen and tell him to get back to the docks. We might need help getting back inside if the demons get too thick at the walls.”
“You sure you don’t want him to join us and help us get these people back?”
“We’ll be moving a thousand people with three hundred guns between them. Cullen and a dozen Vampires won’t add much to the mix. I want them back at the docks where the real fighting is going to be.
“Understood.” Addy moved away, lifting her radio.
Mass looked back at Thomas. “One hour.”
The hour passed like seconds, and before long, a thousand men had filtered out into the courtyard, packed in almost too tightly to move. Those unable to travel had propped themselves up against the upper windows, firing at the demons that were still assaulting the fort’s west wall. The crack of nearby rifle fire was a constant noise.
“We need to move,” said Addy, “before we miss our only chance.”
Mass turned to the army assembled behind him, wondering if they would listen to him. Thomas remained quiet, clutching his wounded torso. The old bastard was dying.
Good.
Mass addressed the army. “All right, you lot. We’ve already beaten the odds by staying alive, so there’s nothing to lose. The enemy is everywhere, but that’s a good thing. It means there’s plenty for us to kill. Every dead demon pushes things a little more in our favour. This is our chance to be heroes. Let’s fight our way back to the docks so we can get behind the walls and help our friends stay alive. They need us.”
The men didn’t cheer,
