A few hundred men had made it through the turnstile housing by now, but the opportunity to rescue more was diminishing. The demons made it to the front lines and leapt upon the defenders. Rifles fired at the clouds as soldiers fell backwards, their throats torn open. Immediately the line was down, smashed to pieces by the sheer unrelenting weight of the charging demons. Men screamed, cursed, and choked on their own blood. Those near the turnstile housing turned and shoved each other in a desperate attempt to save themselves.
Damien shoved Mass. “You need to go. Now!”
“I’m not leaving these men to—”
“They ain’t men, they’re supper, and unless you want to be dessert, you need to move.”
Mass wasn’t having any of it. No way was he going to run and leave these men to die.
Smithy and Addy grabbed Mass and yanked him away from the fighting. He fought them both, but then Damien reached out and grabbed him by the throat. His glare was icy cold. “Heroes die.”
Mass tried to fight, but the hand around his neck was like a vice. His breath deserted him and a chill ran up and down his spine. Before he knew it, he was feeling sleepy. His body went weak, and he was only mildly aware of Damien still talking. “You two get him out of here. I’ll make some room.”
Mass blinked and tried to see as Smithy and Addy dragged him towards the exit. Damien moved through the crowd like a hot knife, tossing people aside like they were made of twigs.
Mass tried to struggle, his body barely responding. “We have to go back.”
“They’re dead, Mass,” said Smithy, dragging him through the turnstile exit, “no matter what we do. We have to get you out of here, big guy.”
They made it into the car park. Several hundred men had made it out, but most were unarmed. A dozen made a run for it, dashing towards the ruins in the city.
There was a whistling sound, followed by a massive explosion as the first of the bombs Thomas had called in landed. It was impossible to know how many demons were trapped amongst the rubble, but a dozen fleeing soldiers were caught in the blast.
“Damn it. I told those men to wait.” Thomas stood with his radio in hand. Two larger men were steadying him to keep him from falling. The last of the colour had abandoned the old man’s cheeks, and he had taken on the appearance of a corpse. He looked at Mass and said, “There are more bombs coming in.”
“Good work, Thomas, but how the hell did you make it out here?”
“My men dragged me. I told them to leave me, but…” His voice faded. He had to breathe for a second before getting it back. “I did my part, now you do yours.”
Mass nodded. He had to get the men out of there. More were flowing from the exit every second, but from their hysterical screams it was clear the demons were killing almost everyone left inside. Crimolok had destroyed a massive section of the fort. The giant would come for them any second.
Mass gathered his people. “The bus,” he said. “The bus is ready to go. We can’t take everyone, but we can get a hundred people out of here. Maybe more.”
Smithy frowned. “What bus? The one over there?”
“Yeah, it’s a getaway vehicle. I parked it there myself, months ago. It’ll run, I promise you. The keys are in the exhaust.”
“I’m on it.” Smithy legged it towards the small row of parked vehicles. He rooted around at the back of the bus until he re-emerged jingling a set of keys in his hand.
“Nice one,” said Addy. “Everyone, on the bus. Get on that goddamn bus.”
The men scattered, but several stayed in place, protecting Thomas. “Leave me!” the old man shouted, but they refused.
“We’re not leaving without you, sir,” said a man with captain’s stripes.
“I’ll just slow you fools down.”
The demons reached the turnstiles, clawing at one another to be the first to get at fresh meat. Forced to funnel through in pairs, the demons were easy pickings for the men with guns.
“To the bus,” Mass shouted, and more followed. Others remained, carrying Thomas along, trying to get the old man moving despite him looking ready for the grave.
Another missile fell, igniting another part of the ruins. Their path to freedom was waiting for them. They just had to get in the bus.
Crimolok appeared from around the side of the fort, coming from the opposite side of the car park. The massive beast bent down and picked up a tiny Fiat, lofting it into the air like a pebble.
Mass realised he was about to die and time seemed to slow. Some inner sense was able to calculate the Fiat’s trajectory as soon as it was airborne. It was heading right for him. He would never move out of the way in time. Neither would those around him.
Damn it, we were so close.
Mass wanted to close his eyes as the car tumbled end over end towards him. He didn’t want to watch his approaching death or anticipate the bone-crushing impact. But he couldn’t take his eyes off it. Mass laughed, a dizzying high washing over him. Then something knocked the Fiat aside in mid-air, sending it down the grassy embankment, where it cartwheeled before coming to a rest on its buckled roof.
Mass blinked. He was unable to find words.
“Once again I am forced to save your life. Can you please try to remain alive on your own?”
Mass turned to see Rick. Or what was left of him. His body was twisted, ribs sticking out of his shirt. One of his arms hung on by a ragged thread of muscle. His left eye bulged like it was about to fall out of his skull.
“Rick?
