D. MacHale - The Soldiers of Halla

He got to the wreck and yanked on the door. Or what was left of it. Mark had to pull with all he had. With an agonizing screech of metal, he managed to muscle it open.

“It’s okay,” he said to the guy inside. “We got you.”

“No,” came a cry from inside the chopper. “I can’t move.”

I made it to the wreck and looked over Mark’s shoulder to the horror within. The pilot wasn’t a dado. The blood and his pained expression told me that much. He didn’t look like a Ravinian, either. His clothes were too shabby. This was definitely a friend. It was a gruesome sight, because his body was impossibly contorted inside the twisted wreck.

Mark reached for his arm and pulled. The guy screamed in pain.

“Don’t!” he cried. “My back.” The guy was in a seriously bad way. He took short, quick breaths as his eyes darted back and forth, focusing on nothing. I figured if his back was broken, there was no way he would survive. The blood wasn’t a good sign either. There was lots of it. Medical care on the new Third Earth was nonexistent. At least, outside of the Ravinian conclave.

“Okay, okay,” Mark said, trying to calm the poor guy. “We’ll cut the wreck away from y-you.”

Mark stuttered. He may have been all strong and in charge, but he was still Mark and he was under stress. He gave me a look that said it all. His friend wasn’t going to make it. The others crowded around, trying to get a glimpse, but Mark put his arm out to hold them back. He took a breath to calm himself. There was nothing he could do to save the guy. It was now about making his last few moments less terrifying.

“You made it,” Mark said, soothing. “You got back. I’m proud of you, Antonio.”

The guy, Antonio, focused on Mark and smiled. “Don’t think we’ll be able to use this chopper though.” He spoke in pained gasps.

“Sure we will,” Mark said, faking confidence. “There’s only a couple of dings. We’ll get it back in the air.”

“Good,” Antonio gasped. “We’re going to need it. We’re going to need everything we have.”

“What happened?” Mark said, leaning in close to the doomed man.

“They’re coming,” Antonio said between labored breaths. I wasn’t sure if his eyes were wild from pain, or from fear. “Worse than we thought.” Antonio started to sob. He was out of his mind. “Get out, Mark. Get everyone out. Out of the city. Away from here. What we saw… it’s impossible. But it’s real. I saw it.”

“What was it, Antonio?” Mark asked with a touch of desperation. “What did you see?”

“The factory,” Antonio said. His eyes closed; he was losing consciousness.

“Antonio!” Mark barked. “What about the factory?”

“Where they build the choppers. We stole one… nearly got away… but they attacked. My guys… all killed.”

“How many?” I asked Mark quietly.

“Four, including Antonio” was his answer.

“Were they exiles?” I asked.

Mark nodded.

Three more exiles had been killed. Of the original twenty exiles who came here with Mark from Cloral, nine were left. I was afraid it would soon be eight.

Antonio leaned forward. The small move was painful. I saw it in his eyes and the way he winced, but it didn’t stop him. He needed Mark to understand.

“I think they’ve found them,” he whispered.

“Who? Found who?” Mark asked.

“We heard them talking. After they finish us, they’re going after them. That’s what they’ve been doing. All this time, they’ve been getting ready to go after them.”

“Who, Antonio?” Mark begged. “Who are they going after?”

Antonio could barely get the words out. His voice was growing weaker, but I heard. “They found the rest of the exiles.”

“What!” I shouted.

Antonio didn’t expect to hear another voice. His eyes looked around in confusion, searching for who had shouted. I pushed next to Mark, so he could see me. “Where are they, Antonio? Where are the other exiles? Are they here on Third Earth?”

Antonio shook his head. I don’t know how he found the strength. Maybe it was easier than speaking.

“I don’t know,” he said, defeated. “After they come for us, they’re going after the rest. Get out, Mark. Run. Hide. We can’t stand up to what they’ve got. It’s over.”

Antonio closed his eyes for the last time. His face grew relaxed. He was at peace. I wondered if his spirit had joined the others in Solara.

Mark didn’t move. He stared at his fallen friend. I didn’t say anything. There was too much to absorb and process. I didn’t know Antonio, but in those short few moments- his last-I found out that he was a very brave guy. A hero even.

Mark looked away from his fallen friend, to me. It was the old Mark. The young Mark. His expression was a cross between grief, confusion… and fear. I sensed he was looking to me for answers. I had one, but it wasn’t the time to tell him. He glanced over his shoulder to see a few of his other friends watching. They were close enough to have heard all that Antonio said. They looked worse than Mark.

Elli was there too. She heard it all. She stood alone, looking lost and afraid.

“Let’s get him out of here,” Mark announced with authority. “Then we have to hide this wreck. We don’t want anything to be seen from the air.” He looked at me and added, “Are you here for a while?”

“For as long as it takes,” I answered.

“Good,” he replied. “You can help.”

They put me in charge of digging the grave. It was an experience I’d managed to avoid up till that point, but I guess with all that had happened over the past few years, it was inevitable. I made sure that Elli was safe inside the warehouse, then found a shovel and walked across the street to a spot that Mark had directed me to. It was an empty schoolyard. I saw the vague outline of a baseball diamond. Toys were scattered around. A deflated kickball. A ballerina slipper. The arm of a doll. I wondered when the last time was that these toys had been played with. I had to force myself to stop thinking that way. As important as this job was, I didn’t want to spend time looking back. There was trouble ahead. That’s where we needed to focus. Burying the dead was looking back. Still, it had to be done.

I got to work digging a long, narrow hole among the sad reminders of a past civilization. The ground was soft, I was glad to discover. It allowed me to work fast. The mindless act of digging gave me the chance to dissect Antonio’s last words. The Ravinians were planning an attack. That much was clear. It sounded like Antonio and his team had found the factory where they built their gunships and didn’t like what they saw. It could mean that the Ravinians were building a lot more choppers, in order to launch some kind of massive aerial assault. Was this the final plan for Third Earth? Were the Ravinians going to wipe out every last non-Ravinian they could find?

Or was it going to be practice for their ultimate goal, which was to wipe out the exiles, and the remaining spirit of Solara along with them? If they were building helicopters, did that mean that all the exiles were somewhere here, on Third Earth? It seemed likely. That would be the ultimate turning point for Third Earth. If the last hope for Solara was here, destroying the exiles would give Saint Dane his final victory. Halla would be his.

The more I thought of this possibility, the more it made sense. The exiles had to be here. The Ravinians were preparing to attack them. And what was I doing? Digging a grave, not knowing what to do about any of it.

The sun was going down. Though I wasn’t in an official graveyard, it still gave me the creeps to be standing in an open grave while shadows grew long. I finished the hole quickly and got the heck out of there. I brought the shovel back to the garage and saw that the wreck of the helicopter was gone. They probably salvaged any parts they could use on their own choppers, then ditched the carcass in one of the surrounding buildings. As I walked to the garage, a door opened. Six guys came out, carrying a body wrapped tightly in a white cloth. This was going to be Antonio’s final journey. The procession went past me. I stood there and bowed my head out of respect. One of the guys came to me and took the shovel. I may have dug the grave, but the job of burying Antonio would be theirs. With a nod of thanks, he rejoined the funeral procession. I watched them for a few moments, then went inside.