The vast forest, roiling hills and sparse thickets were all starting to blend into the same blur of green, brown and grey colors as Maxwell trudged on, as he assisted with carrying Hamza, one of his guardsmen that were injured too badly to walk on their own. There were six in total who were unable to walk but even those who did were all sporting injuries that made movement rather slow to say the least. They had a direction at least, Maxwell made sure something good came out of that bloodbath that was now two days behind them. Joshua, one of the younger men that took up arms was relatively unscathed from the fight, mainly because he spent most of it trembling in a corner, so Maxwell taxed him to climb the cliffside as high as he could and find them a suitable exit from the seemingly endless valley. The kid, well he was nineteen or twenty so maybe not a kid per se, found one due north, over two hundred miles by his estimate, though that didn't mean much.
„Two hundred miles." Maxwell mumbled to himself and groaned while trying to readjust his grip on the makeshift stretcher they were carrying the now sleeping Hamza on. It was wishful thinking that they even crossed twenty in the last two days after the fight and from the looks of his dwindling band, they would have to slow down even more. Food was getting increasingly scarce and shelter was nowhere to be found, though water was plentiful enough, what with the recent downpour and all. Many had gotten sick while battling the elements, unable to find cover from the relentless rain and strong northern winds. It was as if nature itself was making it harder for them to travel north; a silly sentiment to be sure but the mind wanders to strange places when faced with such hardships.
His wife was soldiering on in silence as usual, hardly ever complaining which was one of her major character strengths he appreciated; when the going got exceptionally tough in life, she'd bite her tongue and work through the problem. This must have been getting to her though, despite being uninjured thus far, she had taken upon herself to take over a huge portion of the workload around the camp, including the hunter's duties which were doubly difficult now in this horrid weather. She was showing signs of exhaustion, way beyond what Maxwell was used to seeing, with Leah being the definition of a workaholic and all. Her eyes were glazed over and sunken, her eyelids heavy and swollen and her step was heavy, so much that it seemed like each step forward took a direct forced command from her so that she wouldn't collapse. Maxwell saw the same signs in most, if not all members of his ragged band and he had seen enough.
„Hold!" Maxwell yelled as he turned around to face the remainder of the column made up of cold, hungry, battered people. „These trees provide decent cover, we'll rest 'ere for a moment!" He strained his voice to be loud enough to carry through the sound of heavy droplets hitting the ground and nearby tree branches. He carefully set Hamza's stretcher down and Yves, the other person carrying it did the same. Maxwell glanced at Leah briefly and found her glaring at him tiredly, almost as if wanting to defy his decision to stop but after a moment or two she just sighed, set her stretcher down and sat on the wet ground if an audible thump, her weariness more than obvious.
„Josh! Find the tallest tree and see if ya can make sure we're still on the right track. While yer up there, try to find us some semblance of cover." The young man sprang to his feet, having sat down almost moments before and rushed off to obey the orders. The kid was a little jumpy but he did alright with recon, Maxwell would find uses for him as he clearly wasn't suited for frontline combat.
He aided the others to move the wounded into the best cover they could find and then huddled against a large tree with a thick, though soaked treetop and closed his eyes for a moment to focus himself. What in the world was he to do now? They wouldn't last for another two miles, let alone two hundred. Even if the rain stopped right now, so many were getting increasingly ill from the exposure to the elements that most would be unable to move in a matter of days. Some of the wounded were sick too but that was no cold he had ever seen. Three out of six of his guardsmen were displaying symptoms he had only seen in horror movies; shallow breathing, darkened veins on their necks, bloodshot eyes and the occasional uncontrollable shakes. Some were even yelling out in a sort of animalistic howl, that was the best he could describe it, a pained cry of a wounded animal but the voices were unrecognizable now, far from the men he knew. It was starting to be very obvious that he would be faced with a drastic decision very soon, a decision whether or not to ease their suffering and end their lives mercifully. Maxwell shuddered at the idea and still prayed that they would somehow get better, which would be equal to a miracle of God at this point. No, there was no point in false hope; leaders make difficult choices, that's what makes tem fit to lead in the first place.
He surveyed his surroundings and called for the doc once he spotted him hunched over one of the shaking guardsmen. "Doc! Come here for a moment when you have some time, please." The doc merely glanced in Maxwell's direction, nodded and got back to holding down the shaking guardsman, hoping to hold him still enough to prevent any sort of self-inflicted injuries. Maxwell closed his eyes again to rest for a moment, before the doc was ready to join him. He used to have a lot of trouble sleeping back in the day, especially while he was on shore leave. It's not that he preferred the awful ship quarters or on base lodgings but there was something about the military life that soothed him and allowed him to drift into oblivion at the same time every night; like clockwork.
Maxwell sat there, resting his eyes in an in between state; not quite asleep nor fully awake but soon, a hand shook him awake from his weak slumber and he opened his eyes to see the doc standing over him. "You don't look to well Maxwell, but then again, who does in this deluge?" The doc paused and sighed wearily. "Anyhow, what'd you want to talk to me about?"
"The guys doc, how'r they doin'? I'm no doctor but they seem to be getting' worse from what I can hear."
The doc just groaned and glanced back towards the badly wounded men resting on their makeshift stretchers before facing Maxwell again. "I have no idea to be honest. Ryan and the two Ametti brothers should pull through if they don't catch pneumonia but the other three…" He paused again, a pained expression overtaking his face. Or was it disgust? "I've never seen or heard of anything like it and I have no way of stopping it. They're getting worse by the hour, Max, and sometimes it seems to me like we should, uh…" He trailed off, as if embarrassed of what he was about to suggest. "Maybe we should bind them better, Sean was reaching for me so hard this morning that I thought he was trying to strangle me. I'm… I'm not sure how present they are at the moment." He stressed the word present, hinting at the fact that he was being generous in his wording; the three men were spiraling out of control, not to mention their continuously degenerating appearance. Nothing changed that fast, even a body wouldn't rot so quickly if left to the elements.
"Maxwell, never Max. The nicknames are for m'wife, doc." Maxwell retorted without looking at the doc, still staring in the direction of the wounded men. "I think we need ta put it to a vote. I might be leadin' this here band in a way but I can't and will not call the shots on who lives n' dies." He sighed heavily again and futilely wiped the rain drops from his forehead. "We can't carry them anymore doc, most people can barely put their own two feet on in front o' the other."
Surprisingly, the doc didn't seem to resist Maxwell's decision. Richard was very much a leave no man behind type of guy, having served in the army as well for a tour in Afghanistan back during Desert Storm, but this was an entirely different battlefield. Sacrifices would have to be made. "I'll round them up then, we should decide right away." Doc glanced back at Maxwell for confirmation before setting out to gather the scattered groups of people.
With that, Maxwell stood up, now too agitated to merely sit and rest and began pacing around the middle of the camp where more and more people were gathering. The rain seemed to let up a bit at least, so he wouldn't have to yell as much in order for everyone to hear him. The faces around him mostly seemed to be oblivious as to what he was rounding them up for but several faces had a spark of knowing in their eyes. Emma especially; Maxwell knew she would fight him on this since she almost lost her mind trying to resuscitate those fallen in the last fight. Francis stood beside her, that same knowing expression painting his face but with a touch of eagerness almost. That was a strange man and Maxwell wouldn't tire himself out trying to understand how his mind worked, not now when lives hung in the balance. Once everyone had gathered he raised his voice to a level that he figured everyone could hear.
"These past few days have been incredibly difficult on all o' us and I ain't gonn' lie, I doubt it's goin' to get easier anytime soon." Way to start the motivational speech Maxwell, it's a shocker they didn't make you general during your very first year in the military. "Now, we've got a big decision to make and that decision involves the lives of those three men over there." He gestured at the men on the stretchers, one of them, Boris probably, was shaking and attempting to claw at something with his bound hands. "I don't know what's wrong with 'em but I don't think they'll be makin' it for a lot longer. I propose we end it for 'em mercifully, let 'em die with some dignity while they still can, which is why I'm calling for a vote, whatever is decided here today is how it's goin' to be done. If anyone wants to speak before the vote, please do."
Maxwell paused to look around but nobody budged, not even Emma who was clutching her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white and she shook slightly, from anger most likely. "Very well, let's vote on it then, all in favor o' puttin' those brave fellas to rest raise your hand."
Nobody was enthusiastic about raising their hand in support of mercy killing but a large majority did eventually. Only a few hands remained down, mostly belonging to women who were sobbing, pained by the loss and sense of helplessness they no doubt felt, just like Maxwell did. "Very well, we have a decision, the fellas will be given their peace."
"Who's gonna do it, huh? Will it be you, hero?" That was Emma's voice, dripping with venomous anger. "Or did you plan to just leave them here to die in the cold? Do you even know how to do it properly, without them suffering?"
Maxwell was somewhat taken aback by Emma's outburst, as he had expected her to argue the decision itself, not the logistics behind the actual deed. "They were directly under my command and I will take care of it but I won't be turnin' down volunteers if there are any." He looked around to see if anyone would come forth but nobody did; he expected that nobody would jump at the opportunity to end the lives of men who fought to keep everyone alive. Even Emma stood her ground, still quivering in anger.
"I'm asking you again. How are you going to do it?" Emma said more into her chin than towards Maxwell but it was loud enough for most to hear. "You better not fuck it up."
"Cuttin' the jugular veins on the neck is painless and quick enough, I believe. We don't have the means to put 'em to sleep or anythin' like that."
"Jesus Christ, you want them to choke to death? They'd choke before they bled out; don't they teach you a goddamn thing in that killing academy of yours?" Emma fumed and stepped forward as if to take it upon herself after all, but before either her or Maxwell could react, a loud scream sounded from the doomed men, over at the side, followed by two more shortly thereafter. Everyone's faces snapped towards the source of the yelps to find Alexia rising from their twitching, bloodied corpses, wiping her knife on the pants of one of the killed men. She had stabbed the left side of their chest with a long knife, under the armpit just where it could reach the heart. It was the quickest and least painful death available in such crude circumstances and she did it with practiced precision. Nobody said a word as they watch her wipe the knife and walk past all of them, without so much as a word or glance. There wasn't much to say to the woman anyway, the fate of the sick men had already been decided and Alexia actually helped in a way by putting an early end to a tirade of bickering that was about to ensue. Maxwell wasn't happy that he was relieved of his duty towards the men but in a way, he was glad, as the killing blows would no doubt weigh on his mind even more than they would otherwise. Shaking himself back into the present and away from the cold executioner, Maxwell addressed the still gathered group loudly.
"Let's bury them as best we can and be on the way, we need to find shelter before nightfall. Move!" He spotted Joshua from the corner of his eye, trying to get his attention. The young man seemed enthusiastic which had to mean he saw something promising. Maxwell exhaled and mumbled quietly to himself. "God, I could use sum good news."