Ann Aguirre: Horde

Soon enough, we split into three: scouting party, main group, and the rear guard. Fade, me, and five of Morgan’s best men, who ranged wildly in age, composed the rear. Dennis wasn’t much older than Fade or me, lean and nondescript, yet by the way he handled his rifle and knives, I could tell he was among the best. In contrast, all of Thornton’s hair had silvered, though his beard still bore traces of black. His dark eyes revealed a canny knowledge; strong shoulders and a broad back made him a greater threat. To me he looked like a grappler, a man who preferred brute force to finesse. I also recognized him as the man who had been assisting Morgan in Soldier’s Pond.

I guessed the third one, Spence, was five years or so older than me, short and wiry with shorn red hair. The first time I saw that shade, I was fascinated, as nobody down below had it. Now, I was only interested in how well Spence could fight, and his demeanor gave me no clue. He had a freckled, open-looking face, devoid of violence, yet Morgan had promised us the best. So I’d withhold judgment until I saw him in combat.

Morrow was the fourth. Thin and dark haired, he had a ready smile and a set of pipes slung across his back; you’d mistake him for a fool until you caught the glint in his eyes. Underestimating this man would be the last mistake you ever made, and I figured he couldn’t be more than two years older than Fade. Yet he gave the impression of experience.

The last member was named Tulliver, Tully for short. Her green eyes were keen, set deep in a strong face. She was almost as tall as Fade and older than anyone but Thornton, but her hair was still fair. Most intriguing, she wore an interesting weapon strapped to her back. I’d never seen anything like it. I glanced at Fade to see what he made of it, but he wasn’t paying attention to our recruits. Instead, he was staring at me like I was the last slice of cake on a plate, and somebody had told him he couldn’t have it.

After a flurry of farewells, Stalker headed out with the scouting party. Tegan set out with the Salvation survivors, Morgan leading the way. My family cast a final look in my direction, then they followed as well. This was a terrifying gambit, and we wouldn’t find out if it had succeeded until we reached Soldier’s Pond.

“Morgan put me in charge,” Thornton said. “If anyone has a problem with that, you’d better speak up now so I can knock it out of you.”

Nobody made a sound.

“Good. Let’s move. Remember, we’re not trying to practice good woodcraft. We’re leaving a trail for them to follow. More than likely, we’ll see some combat before we get home.”

The word sent a pang through me. I’d just started feeling like I might belong in Salvation when Caroline Bigwater decided I was a plague sent from heaven, whatever that meant, and that the only way the town could be saved was by sacrificing me. For obvious reasons, I wasn’t on board with that plan, so I’d gone for help in accordance with her husband’s wishes. Now Salvation smoldered behind me, nothing but charred wood and piles of ash. I could trace this moment all the way back to the night the Freaks stole fire from the outpost; I’d known even then that the theft meant nothing good.

“I can’t wait.” Tully patted the giant knife strapped to her thigh, and from the shape of the sheath, it had a wicked curve, perfect for disemboweling Freaks. “Those Muties better bring an army because I’m pretty pissed off, after what they did here.”

“They were good neighbors,” Spence agreed.

I hesitated, then decided I wanted to get acquainted with the first female warrior I’d run into since coming Topside. “I’ve never seen that kind of weapon before.”

As greetings went, it was rough, but the woman’s face lit with enthusiasm. “It’s a crossbow. I’ve been shooting since I was younger than you. I make the quarrels myself.”

“She’s amazing,” Spence put in.

I’d come to that conclusion myself, but before I could ask about the quarrels, which I took to mean the projectiles in the container on her back, Thornton snapped, “Enough. Let’s move.”

As I fell into formation beside Fade, I refused to think about the hunting party—one hundred Freaks, Stalker had said—and though my math skills weren’t the best, even I could figure that those were bad odds. The horde was way bigger, a number so huge I lacked the skill to calculate it. If you added up all the souls in Salvation, plus those who lived in Soldier’s Pond, I didn’t think you’d end up with that many humans total, let alone ones who could fight.

The first Freak hunting party found us some distance from the Salvation ruins. I counted more than twenty in the split second I had to assess our foe before the carnage began. As they charged us from behind, Tully whirled and drew the strange weapon on her back. She was fast with it, releasing four projectiles, one right after the other. Three Freaks died. She was a good shot, particularly in uncertain light on moving targets. Then they were on us, a mass of snarling monsters. I slashed with grim determination, my knives a blur in my hands. Like the old days, Fade fought at my back and he was death itself, dispatching the Freaks with complete efficiency.

The others battled around us; as I’d thought, Thornton was a brawler. He lashed out with weighted fists, smashed his way through three Freaks before I realized he was crushing their skulls with brute force. That roused my admiration even as Spence waded in at Tully’s side. The redhead used shooting irons even close-up, a fighting style I’d never seen before. He was adept at knocking a Freak back with the butt, then he shot it in the chest at close range, and he used elbows and feet to boot. As for Morrow, he favored a slender blade, longer than any dagger I’d ever seen. He was elegant and willowy as he fought, his face a study in concentration. Dennis used shorter knives and he guarded Morrow’s flank; I could tell they had fought together for a while, which spoke to how good Dennis was despite his age.

Two Freaks rushed me. Fade took the one on the left with a vicious jab through the neck, and his blow contained enough ferocity that he nearly took off its head. I dodged low and wheeled around to cut the creature across the back of the knees. It went down and I finished it with cold steel straight through the heart. The clearing reeked of blood, the grass damp with dew and worse, slick underfoot. I slid toward another, as Thornton was surrounded, and I didn’t like his chances. No matter his strength, he still needed help.

Tully and Spence seemed to be all right. So were Morrow and Dennis. I stabbed a Freak in the spine, and was rewarded with an unearthly shriek of pain. The monster whirled, slashing with blood-tipped claws, but when I danced back, it couldn’t follow. I had paralyzed it with that cut and Thornton finished the beast with a heavy stomp of his boot. Two Freaks tried to run, which unnerved me. What did they intend? Survival or something more, like carrying a message? Tully shot one in the back, the sleek shaft of the missile lodged in its hide. Spence took the other in a clean kill, but the noise made me wonder how soon we’d see more of these.

There were bodies everywhere, so much death. The corpses lay in pairs and triads, bones protruding, thickening blood pooled around fatal wounds. I couldn’t forget that I’d seen these creatures going about their lives, much as human beings did—eating and chattering to each other. There had been no savagery in that Freak village, no monsters attacking one another. That lent another layer of menace to their enmity; they no longer killed indiscriminately out of endless hunger, which meant this was more than conflict over territory.