effective, and completely necessary in a situation like this.
A young man with streaks of bloody tears on his cheeks had left his feet and was in midair, bringing down a pickaxe in my direction. He let out a warrior’s cry before I maneuvered out of his path and jabbed my sword through his neck with my right hand as he flew by. Never leave your feet, fool . With my left, I impaled his follower who dropped his mallet when my sword slid directly through his heart. I didn’t take the time to look into his face as he slid off my sword. The next one, a young woman, was already there, stalking me and hissing like a cat as she circled me while holding a chef’s knife in a taunting manner. I planted one sword into the ground and gripped the other with both hands. I angled my body toward her, giving her the smallest possible target, and held my sword high above me. This was apparently her cue to charge. She ran at me and while her arm thrust downward in a stabbing motion, I brought my sword low and then pointed the blade upwards in one swift motion, carrying it forward and removing her hand. Before she could acknowledge her missing limb, I inverted the tip of my blade to point backwards as she was then behind me, and swiftly jabbed my sword behind my right side and through her back without turning my head to watch her demise.
I pulled my abandoned sword from the ground and worked my way backwards, now running to them instead of leading them away. There were only a few groups but most of them were a good distance away from the other, allowing me to take out each of them one by one.
I tried not to exhaust myself, but the spring sun was beating down on my black garb and I was overheating. Pacing myself, I jogged to each homicidal rather than run. After each coup de grâce, I tried to get a glimpse of the scene at the farm. I heard yelling but couldn’t see anyone. I needed to work faster and get back to the farm. When I had about thirty down, the twinge of relief I felt was hampered only by knowing that many more were left to go. I was becoming fatigued, but not to the point of giving up. I would never give up.
A group of ten held together ahead of me. I ran toward them and flanked right, hoping that my close range would give them incentive to chase me and break apart. It worked, and I could hear the rumblings of chasers behind me. Once again, I made an abrupt stop and turned to face them. Only they hadn’t broken apart. All of them were on top of me.
I had no choice but to make my stand. Running away from them at such close proximity could land a blow from one of their weapons as it was thrown at me. Even with the vest, it could knock me to the ground and everything would be over in a matter of seconds.
I screamed as I lunged forward and pushed the tips of my blades directly through the faces of my two closest attackers. I retreated a few steps when three charged me at once. I sliced an arm that was extended toward me in an awkward attempt to block him before he could land his blow while my other sword pierced the lower abdomen of another homicidal. I saw the blade from the third homicidal coming down at me on the left and I tried to turn as fast as I could to deflect the blow, using my left-hand sword to shield my face. A single gunshot rang out and my attacker, an older man still wearing a business suit, fell to the ground with half of his face missing. Cooper was standing behind him. I nodded in surprised gratitude and turned to finish off the group.
Solomon, Cooper and Brigham were in the field with me and I heard repeated shot after shot. With my speed and their efforts, we were done clearing the area in a half hour. For the next hour, we searched the area for possible lurkers and Cooper dro ve down the road to look for stragglers who might have fallen behind.
“Could you tell my son that I’m okay?” I asked Solomon before he went into the house to tell everyone that the coast was clear.
“ I will. But why don’t
Heather Gunter, Raelene Green