Deep in the darkness came the unearthly moans of those who had died but were no longer dead. The broken shuffle of feet could be heard as the corpses continued their march on the hastily erected barricades, barring their entrance to the center of town. The smell of death was everywhere and with it came despair.
Trembling townsfolk took cover behind these make-shift barricades, clutching their weapons. Huddled together in the town meeting hall; those that could not fight tried to remain calm in the face of such horror. The clinic, the general store, traders' market, and even the police station were all outside of the barricades. Although very defensible they were to spread out to adequately control in the face of such a hoard. Most of these people were farmers and trappers. They had never trained for something like this. Though Rifts earth brought all kinds of dangers, the town's distance from major nexus points kept it relatively safe. The militia, made up of these same farmers and trappers had invested very little in modern, more destructive weapons.
As the defenders watched and waited, one among them moved from the barricade to barricade with calm determination. His black and green armor showed the wear of 3 days of constant fighting. His movements were those of a seasoned warrior. His weapons were instruments of destruction. Two particle beam pistols hung on each thigh with energy clips hanging from a bandolier across his chest armor. Resting on his back in a shoulder draw position was Scorcher, the tri-barreled TW sawed-off shotgun. Though powerful and destructive as these weapons are they paled in comparison to the power of the warrior's mind? For this warrior was a knight; a Cyber-Knight, and from his mind and psychic abilities he could bring forth a blade of pure psychic energy. The fabled psi-sword was the hallmark of a Cyber-Knight and his was no exception.
The knight gave compliments and reassurance where needed. Pointing out details, adjusting a fire lane, reminding them of the fallback plan was all part of holding the line against the undead. Finally, he approached the south side of the barricaded area. Formed around the center of town all of the barricades had been hit repeatedly by the undead. The south had taken the worst and as a result, had suffered the most damage. Not having the time to build adequate defenses had played in the creature's favor. Only the concentrated and disciplined fire of the town's defenders had kept the creatures at bay. It was here on the south side that the Knight felt that whoever was responsible for this host of undead would make their play. The Knight known as Gunner wanted to be there when it did.
Gunner felt the icy calm that usually overcame his senses as the anticipation of battle drew closer. He had battled numerous foes throughout his life but none he hated more than necromancers. Creatures, for who could call them people, who embraced death, sometimes worshipping it, like a god. They were the antithesis of all he stood for. The one facing this town was powerful and resourceful. Their only hope was to isolate it and give him a chance to take it out. With its controlling magic gone the undead horde would lose its tactical movements giving the townsfolk a chance at taking the creatures down.
Listening to the creatures move around in the darkness brought back memories from a time long ago. This was not the first time Gunner had faced the walking dead. Perhaps it was the small town that reminded him so much of the town he grew up in that brought the memories flooding back. He did not know.
It was a cool start to spring, and his father had given Tommy and Billy permission to go play with their friends for the afternoon. Having been orphaned when they were toddlers, the boys had been raised by Charles and May Boseman. They grew up in the town of Redville located in what used to be West Virginia. The only connection to their past was matching tattoos of a sword rising from the sun on each of their right wrists. The boys set a fast pace as they headed through the woods towards town.
Running hard Tommy nearly tackled Billy when he came to an abrupt halt along the trail they were traveling. Tommy instantly knew what that meant. Billy always knew when trouble was around. Some said he might be psychic. Something was different though. Billy had turned near white and was truly terrified at what he was sensing.
Tommy stood there with his brother. Looking out into the woods it was apparent that things had gotten unnaturally quiet. Standing there, the same feeling of danger and dread suddenly swept Tommy. He had never felt anything like this before. Fear spread through him and threatened to steal his heart. Billy very slowly and deliberately began moving into the woods and off the trail they were on.
"Billy, what are you doing?" Tommy asked.
"Something is there, I can feel it," he replied.
"Little brother, we gotta get out of here".
"No, you feel it too I know it; it's wrong…bad, really bad."
This was all Tommy needed to hear. While Tommy was thought of as the thinker, the decision-maker, Billy was the rambunctious one. Billy was utterly unafraid of anything. It was hard for him to admit what he was feeling so he was glad when his brother wanted to investigate. Investigate was the wrong word; whatever was in the woods needed to be destroyed; the boys felt this with every fiber of their being.
Billy, probably one of the best trackers in town at the ripe age of 12 found a track on the ground. Without speaking he motioned Tommy forwards into the woods. Soon another track was found the boys began to follow whatever it was that had come to Redville.
It was the smell that gave the first indication that boys had found their quarry. Something had died and had been dead for days. Quietly the boys picked their way through the foliage until they came upon a clearing. Standing there was a man. His black hair was covered in mud and grime, matting his head. His clothes were torn and dirty. Flies buzzed around him and landed lazily on the many wounds covering his body. Loose meat hung from tears in arms and legs. Dried blood covered him from head to toe, intermingling with the dirt. Most important was the man was clearly not breathing…at all. He slowly turned in their direction. This man was dead or should have been, but he was turning in their direction. This man was dead, yet he turned to look right at the boys.
Gunner shook the memory away and refocused on the task at hand. His enhanced vision could make out the movement in between the shadows of the trees and buildings outside the barricades. Slow and deliberate the dead moved with unerring focus. They could sense the living; they were drawn to it like moths to a flame. Shouldering a laser rifle from one of the fallen defenders he sighted down the scope waiting for good shots to open. The eight riflemen with him did as well, holding their shots for when the order was given. Suddenly hundreds of the creatures began rising from behind buildings and vehicles. Using these as the cover the creatures had moved much closer without being seen.
Gunner did not have to give the order. From every barricade and make-shift pillbox, fire erupted in a fury wrought of desperation. Fighting for the lives of their loved ones, the men and women on the line released all their frazzled nerves and emotions with every pull of the trigger.
Calm, cool, and with trained precision, Gunner took headshot after headshot. He was nowhere near the long-distance marksman his brother was but with many dead coming unerringly towards him, it was hard to miss. As predicted the main thrust of the undead made for the south barricade. The eight who stood with Gunner were the best shots in town. Each shot had to put a creature down.
After the initial bursts from the two railguns at the western and northern pillboxes, they now rested silently in order to conserve ammunition. While this necromancer was not a brilliant strategist, he was powerful. Gunner had not seen this many undead under the control of a magic-user sense Africa. One, two, three shots and three more creatures returned to the death they were awakened from. Ejecting his energy clip and replacing it with another Gunner continued his rate of fire without missing a beat. But no matter what they did, the dead kept coming.
Cries for more ammunition began to be heard as Gunner dropped his rifle and pulled his two Particle Beam pistols. The plan for this defense was a one-shot deal. Gunner had hoped to do enough damage to the hoard to force this necromancer into showing himself. If Gunner could get to him then he would have a shot at taking him out up close. The trick was doing the damage and then giving him a little incentive to play his hand, hence the calls for ammunition.
It worked. A surge of the creatures rushed forward from the south. The sporadic fire continued but at a much slower pace. 30 yards, 20 yards, 10 yards. Gunner could hear the chattering of broken teeth and bones grinding against each other as the undead moved towards them. Gunner thrust his fist in the air giving the signal.
Preset fusion block, clamors, and mining explosives detonated all around the town's center. The explosion was deafening. Bodies of the dead fell from the sky. A cheer erupts from the beleaguered defenders. Gunner ignored them. This battle is not over. As if in answer to his thoughts, from the fire and smoke the moans of the dead could be heard drawing closer.
Seeing dirt move in front of his barricade one of the defenders noticed an undead D-Bee crawling out from under the ground. Not wanting to waste a shot on the creature he pulled his wood ax and swung down with a strong chop to the head. Too late he notices an object attached to the thing's chest with a light blinking on it. A second explosion rocked the defenders. This time though it is screams of panic that fill the air. The northern barricade was gone with it the rail gun stationed there.
Farmers, hunters, and craftsmen are incinerated in a plasma inferno. Reacting quickly the town's defenders move to cover the breach. As the defenders form their firing line, two giant boulders crash into it, crushing and scattering them. Before the line can hope to reform more boulders came flying in. Using the vision enhancements in his armor the Gunner could make out two giant ogres behind the main line of undead moving towards the breach.
Gunner could see his chance. The group moving towards them has been thinned out. There were gaps in the line; room to move and maneuver. It is now or never. The necromancer must be close to those two behemoths. Rallying the defenders, Gunner charged the breach. Laser pistols burning anything that got close. Gunner could hear the retort of the last railgun as it fired on the ogres, taking the arm off one and destroying the other. Rather than fall back as they had initially planned the townsfolk attempt to cover him as much as possible. Running into the open and surrounded by the creatures they knew this fight was their only hope. If they could do anything to get Gunner to his target, they were going to do it.
Running hard Gunner did not see the hand reach out and grab his ankle. Tripping and falling, Gunner's reflexes took over immediately, sending him into a roll. Grabbed by one of the snarling creatures Gunner pushed it off as it bit his helmeted head. Gunner suddenly recognizes the creature, a woman who died in the initial fighting with the creatures. He thought her name was Sara.
Staring at the strange sight before them the boys had to remind themselves to breathe. Never had they seen a more frightening sight. Billy motioned for Tommy to move to the right and he would move to the left. Tommy took two steps, and a twig broke under his foot. The creature already looking in their direction snarled and charged at Tommy Boseman. Diving away from the thing Tommy narrowly avoided the claws reaching for him. Tommy came from the dive ready to fight. He grabbed his hunting knife and launched it with all his 10-year-old might. The knife struck true right into the upper chest of Mr. Hatfield. George Hatfield. Tommy remembered who this was. George Hatfield had died of cancer almost three months ago. He was not well-liked by his father, but he did not know why. Mr. Hatfield did not seem to notice the knife stuck in his chest.
Tommy had to dive to the left to avoid another lunge from Mr. Hatfield. When Mr. Hatfield turned to pursue, he met a large tree branch smashing hard against his face. Mr. Hatfield staggered backward from the blow, but then charged again oblivious to the blow it had received. George Hatfield snarled and rushed now after Billy. Billy, the tree branch up horizontally across his face. Mr. Hatfield grabbed it and took Billy to the ground. Breathless Billy struggled against the weight of the man. Billy could smell the stench of rot coming from the thing's mouth as it bore down on him.
Tommy rushed to his brother's aid. Grabbing a large rock, he smashed it against Mr. Hatfield's head with all his strength. Billy brought his knees to his chest and pushed hard. The creature that was George Hatfield ignored Billy's struggles and bore down on him. Tommy connected again with a strike to the temple. Mr. Hatfield rolled off Billy and landed on his back. The boys then smashed George Hatfield's head to pieces with rock and branch. Stopping only to retrieve his knife the boys ran home as fast as their legs could carry them.
Using leverage and a fair bit of strength Gunner rolled the thing that was Sara over and held it down by the neck. In one fluid motion, Gunner pulled his vibro-knife and slammed it into the head of the thing. Her fighting stopped instantly. Gunner moved on hoping to find the one responsible for all this misery.
Another explosion marked the destruction of the western barricade. Gunner knew that the town defenders would be running to their final retreat. Circling around to the west while killing any stragglers that he came across, Gunner finally found whom he was looking for. Moving down the road were two undead Ogres. Each walking with the slow uneven gate that marked the rest of the undead. In between, them was one of the most beautiful women Gunner had ever seen.
Her short-cut, blond hair moved gently in the breeze and her skin showed not the slightest blemish. She wore black leather and chainmail armor that looked more like a corset. A blood-red cape trailed behind her as she levitated, not walked, slightly behind the two ogres. Gunner at first questioned if indeed this was the one, he sought; until he looked into her eyes. Those icy blue orbs spoke of only hate and malevolence.
It was now or never. Pulling his last plasma grenade, Gunner hurled it at the two ogres. The explosion produced an inferno that reduced the ogres to ashes in the plasma fire. A simmering glow of red flared, protecting the necromancer from the blast. She immediately locked in on Gunner. Chanting in a language that he did not recognize, Gunner moved to avoid the spell she was casting. The hair on the back of his neck raised, alerting him of danger. Diving to the side he narrowly avoided a giant bolt of lightning coming from the sky. Gunner returned fire. Particle beams slammed into her protective shielding.
Mystic energy coalesced around the necromancer's right hand, forming into a wooden staff with a silver skeletal hand raised in a fist on its top end. Pointing the staff at Gunner, the necromancer uttered the command word, launching 3 black bolts of energy. The bolts struck Gunner as he moved to dodge. His own magical shields absorbed the damage but not the impacts, which painfully knocked him to the ground.
Before he could react; a vice-like grip locked onto his upper body, pinning his arms to his sides as being held in a giant bear hug. Gunner was then levitated into the air. Looking down Gunner could see the woman hold her staff out with the skeletal hand open as if it were holding something; something like him. She swung the staff to the right, sending Gunner into a bone-jarring collision with a tree. Before the pain of the first impact could set in, she sent him flying into another tree.
Gunner felt his shields go down and his armor bore several more stress fractures. Not to mention a rib or two. The Necromancer smiled and brought Gunner to the ground with another hard throw. Pushing the pain to the back of his mind Gunner focused on the staff. Reaching out with his mind Gunner grabbed the staff with telekinetic force. He knew he could not pull it from her grasp, so he did the next best thing. Pushing with all his mental might, Gunner smashed the staff into her face.
Stunned from the unsuspected blow, the necromancer lost her concentration and released Gunner from her magical grip. Recovering quickly, she tried for another spell. She stopped mid-cast as she noticed psychic energy roll down the length of Gunner's right arm. The energy built and grew in the span of a second into the form of a bastard sword. Bringing the blade up and over his head and then back down in front of him Gunner leveled the Psi-Sword at the necromancer's black heart. She stared at the blade. The signature blade of a Cyber-Knight. A blade extended from the bottom of her staff. The skeletal hand on top closed into a tight fist. She brought the staff up, horizontal across her upper body in a guard position…this fight was far from over.
With his trademark blade in hand, Gunner felt the pain and exhaustion leave his body. The two combatants circled each other; probing for weaknesses in the other's defenses. Both had renewed their magical armor. With magically assisted speed the necromancer took a horizontal swipe at Gunner's head. Gunner hopped backward back and then parried her follow-up thrust. She moved in closing the distance with rapid strikes. Gunner brought his sword vertical across his and then back around across his front to block her next two swings. Gunner immediately follows with a lazy swing in order to set his leg sweep. The necromancer leaps into the air. Using the momentum from the sweep, Gunner gives himself a telekinetic boost and jumps after her.
Turning a backflip in the air the necromancer landed with her staff up prepared to block Gunner's impending blow. Gunner landed and did deliver a vicious two-handed chop with his blade against the magical staff. Gunner took the initiative. He went on the offensive. Leaping, kicking, spinning, and stabbing with the focus of a true warrior. The necromancer, for all her magic, could not keep up with his skill at arms. She bled from a dozen wounds. Her magical shield was weakened by the onslaught. The tide had turned. Reaching out with her awareness, the necromancer called for help.
So focused was he on the duel, Gunner did not see the undead minions heading his way until it was almost too late. As they grabbed him Gunner kicked low shattering the leg of the corpse. His Psi-Sword disappeared from his right hand only to reform into his left hand to take the head from the other. Gunner reversed his spin to come back around when the skeletal fist smashed into his chest. His magic armor dissipated instantly. The fist rebounded hard off his breastplate, fracturing it more. Gunner was thrown back by the force of the blow landing hard on the ground.
Fighting again through the haze of pain, Gunner reached behind his shoulder and pulled forth his most powerful weapon. Scorcher. The necromancer brought forth a thick fog that obscured her direction. She began to cast another spell. Scorcher was his only hope.
Given to him by Lord Coake himself, Scorcher was one of the most powerful handheld techno-wizard weapons ever made. The gun was a sawed-off 12-gauge shotgun made from pure mithral and wood, not of this earth. Etched along its barrels were the dwarven runes for the spell Sunfire. The shotgun fired bolts of fire taken from the sun itself.
Gunner saw the weakened energy of the necromancer's armor spell flicker around her. Leveling her staff, she fired another bolt of black energy. Scorcher cleared the holster attached to Gunner's back. They fired simultaneously. Sunfire and death magic met with explosive force. Both fighters were blown backward and further apart.
Through the smoke and devastation, the necromancer tried to gather herself and slowly got to her feet. Her armor spell had saved her but only just. Her left arm hung broken at her side. Blood ran freely from her nose and lip; not to mention all the other wounds from the Cyber-Knights Psi-Sword. Suddenly a bolt of hot white energy cut through the smoke and exploded against her armor. Chainmail melted and fused to her skin as her armor spell was destroyed. She tried to bring her staff up in a defensive position, but a second bolt took her right arm off at the shoulder. She was watching her arm hit the ground when a third and final shot disintegrated her upper torso. The thermal image of the necromancer being blown apart was all Gunner saw before he passed out.
Two days after fighting off a very dead George Hatfield, the city of Redville was attacked by an army of the living dead. Demons and Zombies walked at the behest of three evil sorcerers. Billy and Tommy were whole up with all the farmers' families and had barricaded themselves in the cities fire hall. There they would hold out while all the rest of the town fought off the evil army.
Billy, Tommy, and some of the other kids sat thinking that nothing could get through the town's defenses. They were wrong. Ten-year-old Willie Thornton called from the fire tower. He saw Ms. Reed and her two daughters running for the firehouse. The traders' post must have been overrun if they were running to the firehouse. Ms. Reed was pregnant and was not moving near as fast as she needed to. The zombies pursued her relentlessly, slowly gaining on her.
Moving with an uneven lope, six of the undead were coming after her. Without even thinking, Billy and Tommy pulled the wood from one of the doors and ran outside to help. Billy carried his dad's hunting rifle while Tommy carried an old Coalition laser pistol. Dropping to one knee, Billy snapped off two shots, taking the heads from two of the chasers. Tommy ran to Ms. Reed. Letting her keep running Tommy fired off a shot and burned a hole into the eye socket of one of the corpses. As it dropped, the one behind it stepped over it and snarled. It came right at Tommy.
Tommy moved to shoot it only to have Billy take him first. Cries from the firehouse reminded the boys they had to fall back. They turned to run only to see they had been flanked. The boys could hear the doors being reinforced, effectively stranding them outside.
The boys stood back-to-back firing and picking off what they could. Firing their last shots, the boys prepared for the end. Billy flipped his rifle around to use it as a club. Tommy pulled the baseball bat strapped to his back like a sword. In most children fear and terror would have already set in; crying for parents that would not come. The Boseman brothers faced a horrible death, yet their fear turned to resolve; their terror turned to anger. Something blossomed in the boys. Hatred for the undead in all its forms burned with an everlasting fire in the boys' hearts. Ancient memories of battles fought against hoards of vampires, devils, demons and all manner of evil flashed in the minds of Tommy and Billy.
Pain shot through the brothers' right hands. Light blossomed from the tattoos on their forearm. Billy's rifle and Tommy's bat shattered in their hands. In their place were swords ringed in a purple flame. The light from the blades held the undead at bay. As one tried to reach for Tommy he spun and slashed it in the arm. The creature burst into flames and disintegrated in seconds.
The boys exploded into action. Driven by emotions that were not totally their own the boys battled their way back to the firehouse. Though never formally trained in the arts of swordplay the boys fought like the berserkers of old. The living dead fell in heaps all around them. As one would die two moved to take its place. They fought with courage but were unskilled in fighting the undead. Fighting back to the firehouse allowed the boys to become surrounded. Even with the magic of the tattoos flowing into the swords, they were still just boys. They simply could not kill enough to getaway. Their arms were slowing; their breath came in heavy gasps.
Billy heard the jet thrusters first. Coming down the road to the firehouse was a Tirax Predator. Hot plasma fired from its main gun and cut a swath through the throng of the undead. Next to the Predator was a hovercycle carrying a man in gleaming silver and red armor. As this warrior drove into the horde, he leaped from the hovercycle and landed between the boys and the undead masses. A bluish shimmering translucent longsword appeared in the warrior's hand. As Tommy stared at the warrior all he could think of was of the knights he read about in Mr. Tolbits fantasy books.
The boys could only watch as the knight went to work on the undead. Every move set up the next like a dance. Sheriff Tankersley had been the best fighter in town. But this knight made all his skills seem easy. The hoard began to thin. Between the knight and the Predator, they slew hundreds of the undead.
Once the fighting was over the Knight removed his helm and came to stand before the Boseman brothers. The town had been saved but at a terrible price. Sir Rexor., as the knight was known, had saved the town with the help of his company of heroes, Rexor's Revenge. The boys were hailed as heroes, but it was a hollow victory. Their adoptive parents had been killed in the fighting, leaving the boys orphans once again. Not having anywhere else to go the boys joined with Sir Rexor to become adventurers themselves.
Gunner's eyes fluttered open to see the light of the lamp casting a soft glow around a simple room he was lying in. Slowly looking around his eyes fell onto that of his brother Billy. Sitting next to his bed the Juicer Scout gave his brother a disapproving look.
"You have been busy it seems," Tommy said to his little brother. The irony of these words brought a sarcastic smile to his face.
"Yeah…a little. Is the town ok, did the people get back to the shelter in time, did….
Tommy patted his brother's arm, quieting him.
"The town is fine little brother; they did just like you told them to do, and they made it. When you wasted that necro-skank, the zombies fell right where they were standing."
Gunner relaxed at hearing this. Though he could not save everyone he was happy that the majority had made it. None of the sacrifices had been in vain.
"You know I was dreaming about home before I woke up. Do you ever think about home?"
Tommy thought before answering….thinking of home was always hard. "Yeah….sometimes….you had better be thinking of how you are going to explain this to Singing Hawk when he gets here. I radioed ahead with the coordinates so they should be here tomorrow night."
Gunner could grin at the good nature ribbing he was going to receive.
"I'm glad you thought to give him the coordinates, I don't even know the name of this little town." Gunner said.
"Well, that is probably a good thing, as I understand it they are changing the name anyway."
"Really."
Billy leaned in with a smirk on his face. "Yep, this little corner of paradise is now the town of Boseman."
