Anthony DeCosmo - Empire

One adult man and eight children sat huddled on the front steps of the chapel wearing the same type of patchwork clothing Nina had seen on the spokesman for the Wrightsville Beach survivors.

Whimpers came from the children as they clung together; their shoulders slumped in what had to be exhaustion from hours of terror. For his part, the man sat with his arms on his knees and his head slung low.

Nina expected to find two adult women with the group but did not see them. As bloodstained Mutants moved periodically in and out of the chapel, she guessed the worst.

She counted four of the aliens loafing around the perimeter and occasionally stopping to glare at the captives. More came in and out of the chapel to the extent that tracking individuals for an accurate count proved difficult. She guessed more waited inside.

The Mutants sported a variety of weapons. Two of the perimeter guards carried flintlocks capable of punching through the toughest human body armor. Another carried a spiked club and the fourth an axe. She noted one particularly large Mutant enter the church with a pair of nasty-looking swords strapped to its back.

In addition to the guards, two unarmed Mutants stood by the refueling station, perhaps repairing or operating it in some fashion.

She split the team, sending Vince Caesar to circle around to the bus where he would wait to extract the hostages, and Oliver and Carl to points around the perimeter. Nina kept the two hounds with her.

She took a deep breath, and then sent the two Grenadiers running out of the woods directly for one of the Mutants armed with a flintlock. It heard the fast pat-pat of the dogs’ feet and turned in time to see them racing at him. It panicked and fired its flintlock wildly, hitting nothing but distant treetops.

The dogs dragged the Mutant down with bone-crunching bites and raking claws.

Oliver Maddock bolted from cover and knifed the guard on the far side of the chapel. Carl Bly fired his assault rifle, dropping a third guard and Nina did the same, killing the fourth.

The unarmed bad guys manning the refueling station hurried for the woods like scared rabbits. Nina pointed in their direction and ordered the hounds to, “pursue and kill,” which they did.

Maddock and Bly moved to the front stairs as the startled hostages panicked and tried to scatter, despite their male chaperon attempting to keep them together. Nina Forest stayed further away and covered the scene with keen eyes scanning for any surprises.

With a throaty grumble, the school bus came to life and pulled to the chapel. Vince Caesar, behind the wheel, motioned for the hostages to get in but they stood and gawked, stunned into inaction.

The chapel’s front doors opened and a trio of Mutants ran out with flintlocks drawn.

Maddock and Bly nailed all three in a series of bursts, their shots whizzing by the ears of shell-shocked hostages.

The bullets and the Mutants accomplished what Caesar could not: the children and their chaperon raced for the open doors of the school bus. However, one eleven year old girl did not make it. The last Mutant-the big one with dual swords-grabbed her in a hug and retreated into the church closing the front door behind.

Nina ordered her team, “Get them on the bus! Do it!”

With her M4 held high, she entered the building.

Two rows of pews sat between white walls with a thin aisle down the center. At the far end of the room stood the altar with a low wooden banister ahead of it and podiums to either side.

Blobs of gore-the remains of the Mutants’ most recent victims-lay scattered about.

She entered the church in hot pursuit and saw only the eleven-year-old blond girl standing in the middle of the center aisle by herself.

Her battlefield instincts sensed the attack a fraction of an instant before her eyes saw the flicker of a shadow. The creature struck from above, having sat in ambush on a perch atop the front door.

One of its two swords swung down as it jumped. Nina held her rifle aloft to block the strike. The Mutant’s double-edged weapon hammered into the composite barrel, saving Nina’s life but bending the rifle and sending her staggering backwards.

The Mutant landed on the floor in two heavy thumps and quickly slammed shut the front door, locking out any reinforcements

The vile creature stared along the aisle at Nina and used its massive maw to present a disgustingly wide smile. Its forked tongue slithered along its teeth in anticipation of another kill.

Nina examined her carbine. The bent barrel turned it from a powerful high-tech weapon into a fancy-looking club.

The Mutant drew its second sword and charged. Both of the deadly weapons swung at Nina. Her only defense was the broken frame of the M4.

The little girl dove between the pews as Nina backed away while desperately blocking two clumsy swings by her opponent. The M4 bent and warped even more-its usefulness as a club neared its end.

To her advantage, the Mutant did not fight like a skilled swordsman. It wielded the blades as if they were sharp clubs. No finesse. No style. Perhaps it had stolen the weapons from some unfortunate soul or alien but did not know how to use the blades properly.

Skilled or not, the Mutant aimed to split her in halves. It raised both blades high and hacked down. She held the deformed rifle up and blocked both blows in unison. With the swords against the rifle, the monster tried to out-muscle her, pushing to drive her to her knees.

Nina refused to kneel. The creature’s strength could not bend her to its will.

Frustrated, the Mutant changed tactics. In a surprisingly quick move, it pulled one sword away from the rifle and thrust at her. She twisted her hip sideways to dodge the stab. The tip of the sword ripped her pistol holster away and opened a gash in her pant leg. A solitary line of blood drizzled from the exposed flesh.

The Mutant pressed the attack, forcing Nina to retreat several steps. She managed to block one more blow with the broken carbine but the force of the swing knocked the dead rifle from her hands and off through the air.

Nina hopped backwards to avoid two more crescent strikes from her attacker. It smartly used a third weapon-one big booted leg-to kick her in the gut. She went sprawling and sliding along the floor to the base of the wooden banister near the altar.

The Mutant grinned again and closed in.

Nina reached to her utility belt as she staggered to her feet. With a flick of her wrist, a collapsible steel baton extended. She brought it forward barely in time to glance away a strike from one of the swords, but the baton wavered; it would not absorb much punishment.

The Mutant brought its second sword down in an overhead hack.

Nina threw herself over the banister.

Instead of splitting her skull as intended, the sword splintered into the wood of the railing.

Nina slammed her baton against the Mutant’s wrist as it tried to pull the blade free. She felt its bones there break like dry twigs.

The Mutant howled in pain, released the sword, and backed off.

Nina grabbed the weapon.

It was short and surprisingly light, not from a lack of density but perfectly crafted balance.

She never trained in fencing or sword fighting, but she did know how to use nightsticks, batons, and bayonets. Nina relied on that training as she went into battle with a new weapon.

The Mutant regained its composure and raised its remaining sword, but its blade wavered, as if it knew fear.

Nina attacked. Given their preference for easy prey, Mutants were not accustom to facing determined enemies; they preferred sheep.

Nina was a wolf.

It hissed as she sliced its shoulder. It responded, swinging its blade around to take her head off. She ducked and punched the creature’s gut. It felt like hitting a rolled carpet, but she did elicit a grunt of pain from the monster.