When the smoke clears, more villagers are getting to their feet than I expect - though over half of them are in bits and pieces scattered about the clearing. Jean and Amy break cover and follow me down the path. Can't see Leon - the dark mouth of the mine is empty - don't have time to worry, because the blast knocked off more than few heads and flailing tentacles reach for us the moment we're in the clear. They recover quickly - those with human faces shout to each other - they swarm like insects and soon stand in a line five deep between us and the entrance to the mine.
Shotgun goes boom.
Four squid-heads coming at me fold in half and go flying back into the gathering crowd. Amy hangs behind us and fires with deadly accuracy, taking out knees in pairs. Jean is crouched beside me, stuttering bullets in the relentless mob. We have a circle of safety in front of us about two steps wide. It's shrinking by inches.
Shit!
I duck and narrowly avoid a swinging tentacle - something hisses in the air where my head just was. I straighten and fire. There's too many of them. They scramble over the fallen bodies of their comrades and just keep coming.
Jean screams - a tentacle grabs his wrist and twists it sharply to the right - he drops his gun and grabs his knife to lop it off. Blast after blast of my shotgun only clears the path for more. Heads explode. Amy cries out - I can't help her - I can't help Jean - I can't stop shooting, and soon my gun will be empty. I take a few out with a roundhouse kick and keep firing.
Over our gunfire and the moaning aldeanos, a chilling sound cuts through the night with a rusty growl. Villagers on the fringe of the swarm turn towards the open mine to see Leon emerge from the darkness holding a really big chainsaw - whirring blade three feet of hurt. He's grinning in that fierce, frenetic way of his. He looks like some bronzed god gone mad.
My man.
Wordlessly they cry out and break off the frontal assault; wordlessly he lets out a scream and runs at the with the massive blade held over his head. As they meet Leon brings his arms down in an arc. He cuts through the villagers like butter. More turn, tentacle heads hissing. Jean holds his gun in his left hand, right one curled against his stomach - Amy is reloaded. So am I. We shower the villagers from our side. Leon screams with bloody satisfaction as the parts fly.
A few fast, angry minutes and it's over.
The clearing looks like a war zone - twitching bits, arms and tentacles, splashes that were once heads, ragged stumps held up - but we still stand. Leon lets the chainsaw wind down. He's coated in gore but looks damn happy for it - even Amy has a sort of bewildered smile, as if she can't believe she's still alive. She helps Jean to his feet. His pained expression lightens as he surveys the damage.
"We should be dead," he whispers. Amy gently takes his right arm and he winces.
I stumble over a torso - kick a head that some managed to come off intact - and run towards Leon. He drops the chainsaw and holds out his arms - tears draw pale tracks down his blood-soaked face.
I hold him tight, and long. When he pulls back his bright shining eyes search my face frantically. "It's really you," he whispers. "Really you."
I pull out a handkerchief and wipe his face. "It is."
There's no need to say anything else.