Smoke, screams, pealing gunshots…
This is not how it is supposed to be.
His back against the belly of an overturned car, half gasping, half choking in the acrid smoke, he clutched his gun in his hand and gazed at it bitterly. Sweat, dirt, and blood streaked across his face; from a gash on his forehead tricked the red wine of life, seeping down his neck and into his tunic. He had long ago discarded his helmet after a blow from a troll had turned it into a useless hunk of metal.
Something growled on the other side of the car. He let out a small moan as a vicious rottweiler poked its head around to gaze at him. Rottweilers, while small to a Mudman, were as tall as he was, with nastily huge teeth and a savage attitude.
Am I to die here?
He hardly had the strength to stand. He forced himself slowly off the ground. His left leg trembled; blood soaked his leggings, pouring from where a bullet had buried itself in his thy. He dropped his gun, which was perfectly useless anyway—the catch had jammed—and turned, grimacing, to face the slavering dog. "Come and kill me," he whispered, "but you're going down, too."
The dog bared its teeth, growled, and sprung.
Hello, beastie.
He rolled under its legs as it attacked. Cursing that rottweilers had no more than a stub of a tail to grasp, he leapt on its back, where the gnashing jaws could not reach.
Grimly, he reached into his boot and withdrew his last weapon: a narrow, three-inch knife with a black leather handle. With a disgusted grimace, he plunged it into the dog's back.
With a final, anguished howl, it toppled, and he leapt off. His feet hit the ground and his knees buckled. His head smacked the pavement and his vision exploded in a dizzying wave of pain. He moaned in agony.
I should've let it kill me. Better than dying in miserable anguish among the bodies of my comrades.
His comrades. Root. Vinyáyá. Grub. Foaly. Mulch. Everyone. Butler. Artemis.
Holly.
Alive or dead, he knew not. Root had fallen in the first valiant, hopeless, desperate onslaught. Grub had been at his side until the troll attacked. After the razor-sharp, poisonous tusks had made their final sweep, he had vaguely seen a body lying, blood spilling from a mortal wound, prostrate on the ground. He didn't want to know who it was, unwilling to believe it was his brother. Vinyáyá's ship had exploded from a well-aimed blast at its fuel tank. Butler, of course, was with Artemis, but who knew where Artemis was?
It had all been futile. They had allowed themselves to hope, and that foolish, naive hope had been crushed mercilessly when they saw with dismay the first pounding wave of them.
Them. Opal Koboi's machines. He didn't know exactly what they were. No one did. Not even Foaly. She had given the technology to the Mudmen to develop, and then she had exposed the People as evil, wicked creatures intent on destroying human kind. It was the perfect plan. The People didn't stand a chance.
Floating through the smoke, barely perceivable, he heard a moan of pain. What with the bodies sprawled all around him, this was not unexpected, but the sound cut him to the very soul. He knew that voice.
Forcing himself to his hands and knees, he dragged his broken body to the source of the noise. Gunshots were going off, something exploded, and someone dashed past him, but he didn't notice; he was intently focused on one thing. Holly.
She smiled shakily at him when he reached her. Her right eye was a bloody mess, and her arm looked broken, lying at an odd angle on the ground. She was breathing heavily.
With a sinking, terrible, panicked sensation, Trouble realized why the fire was leaving her countenance, why those hazel eyes were no longer blazing with determination. His eyes fell on dark red stain that was slowly spreading across her jumpsuit from her midriff.
With a choked sob, he the sleeve of his own suit and tried to staunch the blood flow. Holly's hand found his wrist.
"No," she whispered.
It was raining. Trouble felt the cool, blessing, cleansing drops touch his skin, but he paid them no heed. "Come on," he said, knowing that the water on his face was more than just rain. He slipped his hands under her slender frame. "Let's get you out of this rain and find a medic."
Don't you fret, M'sieur Marius; I don't feel any pain…A strained smile flitted across her lips. "A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now, Major. You're here; that's all I need to know."
And you will keep me safe, and you will keep me close, and rain will make the flowers grow…
He fought the feeling of helplessness welling up inside of him. "Captain, as a commanding officer, it is my duty to care for my troops."
"It's your duty to defend your people," she whispered, inhaling sharply as he felt the area around the wound. "There's nothing you can do for me."
"I can get the bullet out," he said determinedly. He reached for his knife, but realized he had left it buried in the back of a dog. "You'll live through this." If I could close your wounds with words of love…
"Major, please," she said, her voice weak. "Just… hold me and let it be." Shelter me, comfort me…
You would live a hundred years if I could show you how…
"I won't desert you, not now," he whispered in agony.
"The rain can't hurt me now."
This rain will wash away what's past.
"Promise me… promise that you'll keep me safe… and that you will keep me close." I'll sleep in your embrace at last.
The rain that brings you here is heaven-blest
The skies begin to clear and I'm at rest
A breath away from where you are
I've come home from so far!
Trouble felt the utter disbelief and agony of heartbreak begin to pierce his soul. He looked at her broken body, and his tears mingled with the rain.
Don't you fret, M'sieur Marius; I don't feel any pain…
"Holly, please…" he heard the desperation in his own voice.
A little fall of rain can hardly hurt you now…"I'm here," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm here."
"That's all I need to know." Her slender body shook as she gazed at him, and, in a wave of horror and shock, the truth hit him.
I will stay with you 'till you are sleeping…"And rain… will make the flowers…" She drew one final, angelic breath and she smiled at him one last time.
And then there was a void. An empty black hole where Holly, the fiery, young, beautiful elf had been only moments before. He loved her, and she was gone.
Hardly able to whisper past his horrible, agonizing pain, he said softly, closing those hazel eyes, "…Grow."