Fall's End. A little town in the middle of nowhere. Complete with a bar, general store, garage, and a church. With some houses sprinkled here and there. It wasn't very impressive, but it was homey looking. At least, it would be if it weren't for the fucking cult.
America slowly crept up a hill and spied on the not-so-sleepy town through her binoculars. It was a mess. Eden's Gate had completely ransacked the place. People were being dragged out of their homes by gunpoint. The bar was being doused in gasoline, the garage and store were being raided, and the church was being desecrated.
Just one of those things was enough to make her blood boil, but all of it together?
The peggies set up a number of defenses. Some turrets on the buildings, roadblocks, vehicle patrols. And then a plane flew over her head. That could be troublesome.
Behind her, the Gardenview crew as well as the Trailer Park residences followed. Armed and ready to get revenge on the cult.
"So, what's the plan, Deputy?" One of the fighters asked.
"I sent Boomer ahead. He'll alert us to how many cultists are around. If he barks once, that's a single cultist. If he barks twice, that means one hostage. And that's the goal. We secure the hostages first, namely Mary May Fairgrave and Jerome Jeffries. Dutch said they're the more important targets. But make no mistake, we're here to save everybody."
"Understood. How do we do this?"
"You," She pointed to a woman holding a AR-LC, "Kathy, take your sniper rifle and climb that water tower. You'll get a better view from up there."
"On it." She left to do what she was told.
"You guys," She pointed to three men armed with rifles and a shotgun. "I'm securing Jeffries and Fairgrave. Get ready to go in loud and proud when they're secured."
"Got it, Deputy."
"No doubt the cult will send in reinforcements. Merle and the others will be on standby when that happens." Boomer's howl echoed out, signaling that hos scouting was finished. "Alright," she said pulling out Judgement, "From the looks of it, they're still trying to coax Jeffries out of the church."
"Then let's go save them."
The Pastor
Jerome remembered the day he first met Joseph Seed. He was drifter with nothing but the clothes on his back and a busted old pickup truck. He came to the church seeking refuge. Seeking to learn. Of course, he said yes, but had he known what that God-seeking man would become . . . what he would do . . .
There were days that the Pastor truly regretted playing a part in Joseph's rise.
"YOU WILL ALL BE BLESSED BY THE LIGHT OF THE FATHER . . . OR BE BURNED BY IT!"
Outside, Pastor Jerome could hear to preaching bullshit of one of John Seed's "Ushers." Individuals in charge of "reaping" people and supplies. Fall's End had . . . well, fallen.
The little town held out all night, with himself and the bartender, Mary May, leading them. But there were too many peggies. All they had to run on were fumes.
"Despite all my training, I couldn't even save this one beautiful, town." The Pastor lamented.
He looked at what was left of the Resistance. The ones that got away before being reaped were in this church and the Spread Eagle bar. Though from the sound of it they got the sole living Fairgrave.
The remaining people helped him barricade the doors and windows of the church. The rest were hiding in the cellar. The elderly and children mainly, most of the people who could fight were above ground helping him fend off the cult, but unlike Jerome they weren't soldiers.
"Why is this happening?!" A woman sobbed in despair. "How many people died out there?"
"Fuckin' peggies. Fuckin' Joseph Seed and his psycho family!" A man seethed.
Others were pretty much the same. Crying, cursing, comforting . . . praying. Pastor Jerome performed the latter. It was all he really could do. The cult had been banging on their walls for two hours with no luck. They wanted all the people of Fall's End and they would do anything to get them. Even kill their own hostages that they were trying to "save."
Outside, the cult got tired of beating down doors and shooting up walls. So, they decided to sacrifice people, to make them come out willingly. They dragged people kicking and screaming before the Proclaimer and proceeded to beat their heads in with bats.
Many in the church called out, begging, screaming for them to stop, but the cult didn't listen.
"Their deaths are on your hands!" The Proclaimer had said. "They die needlessly for your pride, Pastor. Come out and it stops."
A few tried to surrender, but they were held back by the others. So many tears and blood were shed that it was drowning them all in despair. What could they do? If they kept fighting, more people were mercilessly killed. If they surrendered, they could still be killed or worse: a torturous future with John Seed. The situation was hopeless and getting darker by the minute.
Pastor Jerome stood by a barricaded window and watched another poor soul get beat over the head with a bat. He had to watch this. Those people were dying because of him. This was something he would have to carry forever.
The former marine held onto his bible and prayed. He prayed for the ones that had died, the ones that were still alive and fighting and he prayed to the Lord for a miracle.
"Lord, here my prayer. Give us strength and fortitude in this time of crisis. Guide those poor souls to heaven . . . and please shine a light through this darkness to give us a hope once more."
*BOOM!*
A gunshot went off. Everyone in the church ducked thinking the cult was shooting again, but they realized it wasn't the cultists. Outside, The Proclaimer fell off the car he was standing on, his bible was splattered with blood from the fresh hole in his head.
A sniper from the water tower took him out and the other cultists charged up the hill to take them out. But then three gunshots went off, killing two cultists. A lone gunwoman came from the road, a smoking silver six-shooter in hand.
The cultists realized they were flanked and tried scattering. The sniper took out another one, while the woman fired her pistol again. Hers clicked, indicating she was out. One of the executioners ran at her with his bat. The woman whistled and out of the brush came the locally-famous dog, Boomer. The hound pounced on the cultist and ripped out his throat.
The woman then cut the remaining hostages free and gave them the cult's guns. Just in time as the rest of the cult in town started to converge on them.
"Who is that?"
"She saved them!"
"She was like goddamn Clint Eastwood out there."
The sight of the woman's triumph lifted the remaining resistance member's spirits. It was like a switch went off. A moment ago, they felt caged and hopeless, but now they were rejuvenated and ready to fight again. Jerome grabbed his shotgun and gave it a pump. The others went and grabbed their guns.
"This is our chance folks!" Jerome rallied. "God's given us a second chance to fight against Eden's Gate." He marched through the hall passing by his fellow Fall's Enders.
"Wo to the man who leads my flock astray. For if I am not their shepherd, then I must be the wolf!"
He kicked open the door and blasted the first ratty-haired peggie he saw. The battle cries of the people behind him resounded like a wolf's howl.
The Bartender
Mary May struggled against her binds. Her glaring eyes settled on the VIP in front of her, who was giving her the usual spiel that most Ushers gave to their captured.
"Greg, I swear to God . . ." she seethed.
He slapped her. "Do not use the Lord's name in vain, Mary. It is Joseph you should swear to."
"FUCK JOSEPH!"
This time, the tattooed man struck her temple with the butt of "Fall's Ghost." The antique lever-action rifle used to sit peacefully in the mayor's office of the town hall, until Greg Bakshki, the assistant mayor, took it along with everything else in Fall's End.
"You're lucky John has such a fixation on saving you. Otherwise I'd blow your head off for such blasphemy, sinner."
"Just kill me now." She spat. "I'd rather die then be put in the hands of that psycho."
"No can do, Mary." Greg shook his head. "You have sins that need to be absolved. Especially after that night."
Her eyes widened in shock and it took all her strength not to break down in tears in front of the cultists. So, she simply turned her sadness into fury and gave the most hate filled, death-inducing glare. She had wondered if Greg was there "that night." But it was dark and rainy and most of the cult had long scraggily beards that made it difficult to differentiate sometimes. Plus, she was preoccupied with her brother . . .
"Glare all you want girl, but this is for your own good. Get more gasoline from the garage! We need to burn down this place of sin. Burn it off the map!"
"No!" She was held back by another cultist. Some of her friends were still inside. Casey, Danny, Frida, Mike, and several others that were hiding.
The cult just wanted her. As far as anyone else in the tavern, they could burn along with her bar. That's how the cult was. They either took you or killed you. There was no rhyme or reason behind it. Like the flip of a goddamn coin.
"You bastards! There are people in there!" She screamed.
"We know, and they have refused the Word of the Father. So, they shall burn for their sins in this unholy hovel."
Before she could curse them even more, gunfire went off on the other side of town. Drawing their attention away.
"Trouble again." Greg sighed in annoyance. "When will these sinners realize that we are trying to help! You two come with me!"
Greg took a couple steps before Mary tripped him over with her legs. Greg fell flat on his face, disorienting him.
One of the cultists grabbed Mary by her hair and balled his fist.
"You bitch!"
He was about to strike her, but then the sound of a car distracted him. And then a baseball bat going thirty miles an hour struck him across the face. Three cars sped past them, with the Death Wish leading them. In those trucks were Hope County citizens armed with guns and blunt instruments. They all laughed and screamed manically as they drove into town, ready to bring the fight.
"K-kill them!" Stuttered Greg as he stood up.
The cultists fired their guns at the trucks. They were about to go after them, but then suddenly the Spread Eagle's front door burst open. A big man of hair and muscle charged out and with a kind of savage grace took on the cult with a gun and kitchen utensil in hand.
It was Casey Fixman, the bar's cook.
Before a cultist realized it, a butcher's knife cleaved through the top of his skull. The cook fired his gun. Two pops, each a headshot that downed a cultist. He dislodged the cleaver and swung it into a woman's shoulder. He used her as a human shield to absorb the cultist's bullets, before killing them with his own gun.
All that was left was Greg and some batters. He ducked underneath the bats and imbedded the cleaver into the cultist's stomach. He yanked it out in the most painful way. Mary nearly wretched from the squelching noise alone, she looked away when she caught a glimpse of the man's guts falling out.
The second batter roared as he went for the deadly man's head. He lost in an instant when he felt something cold create a gap in his neck. He stumbled forward before falling to the ground. Greg was alone now, and he just reloaded his gun. Casey threw the cleaver with excellent marksmanship, as the blade found its mark in between Greg's eyes.
The VIP fell backwards with a thud. Casey quickly ran to Mary's side and untied the ropes around her wrists.
"You okay, Mary?" Casey asked. His gruff voice was full of concern.
"I'm fine." She swallowed the bile in her throat. She knew about Casey's past as a special ops soldier, but she had no idea he was capable of doing . . . all of that.
Just as the cook freed his employer, the sound of scuffling drew their attention. Mary's eyes widened in shock as Casey's eyes narrowed into a hateful glare.
Standing up was Greg, who just pried the cleaver from his own skull. His thorn crown was split in two and fell onto the ground. There was a long indenture in his forehead now. Blood was flowing over his face as he breathed angrily. He let the knife in his hand clatter to the ground and raised the freshly loaded Fall's Ghost.
"Damn sinners." Greg snarled. "Don't'chu GET IT!? We are the righteous! Our purpose is righteous! We will not fall to the likes of you and your ilk. For we are destined to save these lost souls and cleanse them—so that they may walk to Eden's Gate, hand in hand, with the Father and his Family."
Somehow, the VIP's face transformed into somewhat of a blissful visage. "It will be paradise for us all." But such a face could not hide behind the murderous intent. "All except you."
Greg prepared to pull the trigger.
"Casey!" Mary tried to protect her friend, but the cook was stronger and pushed her back as he prepared to take the bullet for her.
But just before Greg could fire, a familiar dog lept at the gun and wrestled the surprised VIP for his weapon.
"Boomer?!" Mary gasped in surprise.
The dog paid the two no mind as he played tug-of-war with the cultist. The bird dog won out and ripped the weapon from the man's hands before scampering off into the war-zone.
"You damn dog!" Greg shouted after. "Give that back!"
Just before Greg could let out another curse again, Casey got up behind the cultist and put him in a strong headlock.
Greg let out choking noises and tried to pry the cooks arms off, but to no avail. Casey was bigger than Greg and lifted him off his feet, causing him to kick and flail.
"You picked the wrong side Gregy-boy." Casey spoke lowly. He tightened his hold until he heard a loud crack come from the man's neck. Once Greg went limp, Casey dropped him like a sack of potatoes.
Without skipping a beat, Casey nabbed a rifle from one of the cultists and gave it to Mary.
"Thanks." She checked to see if the weapon was loaded. When she looked back up at Casey her eyes widened. "Look out!"
She took aim with the rifle and fired. Two bodies fell from the rooftops. Snipers who were taking position for the battle.
"Nice shot. Thanks for the save." Casey said.
"Just returning the favor." Mary smiled.
An explosion, apparently caused by a plane dropping a bomb on a fuel truck, caused them to slightly duck. They looked up and saw an amphibious, red biplane fly over them.
"Is everyone in the bar safe?" Mary asked as she watched the plane turn around to make another pass.
"They are secured, ma'am." Casey answered. Sounding every bit the soldier he used to be. Still was in their current situation.
"Good." She took the rifle ammo off Greg's headless corpse and reloaded her weapon. "Then let's shoot these fuckers in the crotch."
The Deputy
America watched as the Death Wish plowed through cultist and toppled over their vehicles like they were kiddie cars. On the back, Merle was laughing and screaming away, though it was hard to hear over the gunfire he was spewing from the mounted gun.
"Yeeeah you fuckers! Come get some! You want some? You want some? I'll give you a little—no—I'll give you a whole lot! Ha Ha Ha!"
The trucks that followed behind the Death Wish skidded to a stop. Out the back came more members of the Resistance, armed with rifles, shotguns, grenades, bats, pistols, and a whole lot of determination and revenge.
America fired Judgment taking out three cultists in four shots. She dove for cover behind a stone fence, bullets grazed the surface of the fence causing her to cover her head. Peaking around the corner she fired the last two rounds in her handgun before retreating back to reload.
She saw one of the peggies she downed being dragged into cover, hoping to heal him to get him back in the fight. It wouldn't be though because Pastor Jerome blew them both away with a single shot from his shotgun.
This got the peggies focused on killing the Pastor, but the other Resistance fighters that came out of the church would not let them. Waves of bullets zoomed by and through the peggies, making them drop dead or forcing them back. Kathy would snipe any peggies trying to bunker down behind cover, forcing them out of hiding. Their combined firepower took out many peggies, pushing them back into the town.
America reloaded her gun just in time for her faithful companion to come running up to her. With a nice-looking rifle in his mouth.
"Thanks, Boomer." She took the weapon happily and looked it over.
It was a fine weapon, like something from those old western movies she watched as a kid. And boy did the situation look like an old western movie.
Seeing if it was loaded, she nodded that it was and looked back at Boomer.
"Good job, boy. Now go see if anyone needs help."
Boomer barked before going off back into the fray.
She got up from her cover and aimed the rifle. She fired and pulled the lever and repeated. Each shot she fired was accurate and on point. Taking out one Peggie with one shot. She moved forward along with Pastor Jerome and a couple other fighters.
They took cover behind one of the destroyed trucks. Some of the cult fell back near a barricade set up around the fuel truck. They laid down some impressive fire power, but the Deputy had one better.
"Georgie, hit the fuel tanker." She said into her radio
"You got it, Dep."
The sound of a plane's engine roared in the sky. And through the blue sky flew a red plane called respectfully the "Clusterduck." It flew over their heads and over the cultists. It released a cluster bomb from its wing and impacted the truck.
The explosion was massive, and everyone could feel it, especially the cultists. It took all the peggies near it straight to hell. Not before their smoldering pieces go a glimpse of heaven from being launched a hundred feet in the air.
The Resistance pressed forward. Pastor Jerome was by her side, firing his shotgun. America let out a couple bursts from her new rifle. Enemies were dropping like flies now. It was almost unfair and that's just how she wanted it.
America shot a downed Peggie before one of their friends could revive them. Then shot the saving cultist in the same second. The Deputy got down behind cover again.
"I'm out of ammo!" One of the resistance members shouted.
That was when Boomer came with a cartridge of rifle rounds in his mouth. He left it near the fighter that needed it the most.
"Thanks Boomer!" They said appreciatively.
Boomer barked before bounding back out to get more supplies. The cult mostly ignored Boomer, as they were more concerned with the enemies that had guns. The grey dog would scout for ammo and weapons and bring them to Resistance fighters. Sometimes he would sneak around and take out a lone Peggie that was far from his fellow cultists.
What a good boy!
The peggies must have called in for backup because several trucks with mounted guns came speeding down the road. Before they could even reach where the main fight was, the Death Wish slammed into the middle one. Toppling it over and crushing its occupants. Merle then laid waste to the third truck behind with his gun. The front truck tried to cover and support the cultists, but one lobbed grenade from America totaled that plan.
So much for the reinforcements.
They moved further into town, pushing the cultists back until they were completely cornered. Mary May had joined the fight now. She rushed into the fight with a fury unlike anyone else's. She let out a raging yell along with a shit-ton of bullets. Any Peggie that got in her sights was dealt with swiftly and without mercy. If a Peggie was downed but not dead she would stomp their heads in or beat them to death with the butt of her rifle. America had never seen such a ferocity since . . . well, herself.
Casey, armed with his butcher's knife and gun, watched her back. He was like a killing machine! Swinging that knife like a professional and shooting peggies with masterful marksmanship.
The Clusterduck came overhead again and strafed several peggies that tried to get an advantage on the roofs. Combine that and the Death Wish's fire power on the ground, the town would be cleared out in no time.
America and two other resistance members took cover behind a truck. They'd pop out and fire their weapons. The Deputy had switched to her pistol again and let its namesake speak true. Every bullet she fired from the weapon found its mark, injuring or killing every cultist she locked on.
"Forward!" She ordered.
The Resistance fighters moved up. Shotguns went off, knocking peggies off their feet. Assault rifles fired at a distance, taking out any Peggie unfortunate enough to be in their sights.
A Peggie had pretended to be dead and tried taking America out from behind. But a long distance shot from Kathy's sniper rifle stopped him in his tracks. If she really focused, America could see the laser dot trembling over a cultist before a bullet struck them in the exact same spot.
The peggies realized they were losing and started loading up any hostages and supplies they could. If they couldn't win, then they'd take what they could and come back with more men. Mary May, Pastor Jerome, and America wouldn't let them however.
Advancing side by side, the three protectors went to finish off the fleeing cultists. Mary fired her rifle, each burst dropped a Peggie to the ground in seconds. America, like an old western hero, gripped Judgement in one and fired rapidly, any fleeing Peggie she saw was killed in an instant via headshot. Jerome pumped his shotgun with each blast. One, two, three, when his gun clicked empty, he grabbed the gun by the barrel and swung it like a baseball bat.
One van managed to speed off and escape. The Resistance couldn't fire in fear of hurting the hostages in the back. Just when it looked like it would get away, the Death Wish crashed into the driver's side. The driver was killed upon impact and the hostages were quickly released and saved, if not a bit disoriented from the crash.
"We're winning!" Mary said excitedly. "We're winning!"
"Hell yeah!" Merle cheered from his truck.
"God be praised, the cult's finished here in Fall's End." Jerome said.
What remained of the cult started running for the hills, back to John Seed. America, Mary, and Jerome, side by side, with all of Fall's End's survivors behind them, fired their guns. Shooting and making sure they take out as many of the peggies as they could. One less Peggie meant one less to fight.
The Clusterduck flew over them and fired a barrage of rockets at the fleeing peggies. All of Fall's End cheered like it was a Fourth of July celebration.
But their cheering stopped when they heard a second plane. At first no one noticed, but when the three leaders turned around they all stared in dread as a grey fighter-plane came at them.
"Shit! It's the Chosen!" Mary cursed.
"The Father's elite guard!" Jerome said fearfully.
Overhead, a grey fighter plane swooped down and released a twin stream of gunfire.
"Everyone, take cover!" America shouted.
Everyone screamed and ran as a hail of bullets rained on them. Many of the fighters managed to escape, but a few weren't quick enough as their bodies were torn to shreds.
The plane came back around and fired its guns and then released a bomb right on top of them. The explosion killed three people who were hiding behind a pair of trucks.
People were starting to panic as the number of dead bodies increased. Pastor Jerome tried his best to calm everyone down, but he couldn't stop the few that gave into their fears and ran. Those folks were killed by aerial gunfire.
"We got to take that thing down before it kills us all!" Jerome said over the screams of his people.
"I got this!" Georgie said over the radio.
"Georgie, be careful! These guys are trained for aerial fights." Mary warned.
The Clusterduck chased after the Eden's Gate plane. Georgie fired the main guns when his sights were locked on, but the second gunner of the enemy plane forced him to veer away, else he'd be taken down.
Georgie tried his best to keep up with the peggie plane, but the constant shooting caused him to lose sight of the plane for a while. Only to have it reappear behind him.
The plane shot at Georgie. The clanking and sparking of bullets caused Georgie to sweat, but he swallowed his nervousness and tried to shake the plane.
The Clusterduck serpentined. It dived and rose trying to escape the Chosen's sights.
"He can't get away." Jerome said worriedly.
"We got to help him!" Mary said urgently.
"On it!" Merle banged the roof of his truck. "Rapido amigo!" The Death Wish sped off, with Merle blasting away on the machine gun.
"I'll get on that mounted gun on the roof!" One of the fighters shouted as she raced to the rooftop of the general store.
"Everyone else," America said, "fire at will!"
Everyone raised their guns pointing at Heaven and did their best to take down the plane.
Rounds imbedded into the hull of the plane, sparking and making clanking noises. The Clusterduck managed to get around and behind the plane this time and so the peggies were put on the defensive.
Georgie fired his guns, getting several good shots, but he had to pull back when the enemy's co-pilot fired from the back gun.
The two planes danced around each other, playing a game of cat and mouse. Both took equal damage, even with the whole of Fall's End on Georgie's side.
Unfortunately, the Chosen's plane managed to get a direct hit on the Clusterduck and the red plane went down in smoke.
"I'm hit! I'm going down!"
"Georgie, get out of that thing!" Jerome practically screamed into the radio.
"I-I'm trying! My belt's stuck!"
The plane got closer and closer to the ground.
"Georgie! Get out of there!" America yelled.
"I-I can't! I can't get out! I can't—KKZZZZT!"
Static was all that was heard from the radio, the second the Clusterduck impacted the ground. The plane crashed into the fields, a mile from Fall's End. Everyone stared in shock and horror at the plume of smoke rising in the distance.
They couldn't focus on the demise of their friend however, as the Chosen unleashed a torrent of bullets on the hapless townsfolk.
It was utter bedlam now as the Chosen laid waste to the small town's occupants. It dropped a cluster bomb first, causing the fighters to scatter and find cover. America saw two people die in that explosion.
Merle banged on his vehicle. "Get us out of here!" He yelled.
The Chosen came back around, doing a perfect U-turn and fired at the water tower. Kathy and the other snipers were completely eviscerated in seconds and fell from the tower.
The one manning the machine gun atop the general store fired everything he had at the plane. But the gun jammed on him in his moment of desperation. His last words were a curse as the Peggie plane dropped a bomb on him, taking a chunk of the building and the machine gun, along with his life.
Everyone had taken cover in the buildings, just as the plane came back around and took out several more people with a twin stream of bullets.
Mary and Casey hid in the Spread Eagle, Jerome and his followers and America in the garage. The only one on the offensive, was Merle.
The Death Wish was moving like a bat out of hell. With Merle unleashing all the fury hell had to offer. The driver evaded the raining assault for the most part, but it would not escape forever, even with merle as the gunner.
Despite their best efforts, the Peggie plane swooped down like a harvinger of death and unleashed a barrage of bullets on the truck. The rounds penetrated the thick plating and bullet-proof glass, and the driver died from the first shot. Merle had avoided the attack by ducking behind his gun's harness.
The Death Wish swerved and crashed, tipping over onto its side and skidding across the road.
"Merle!" America shouted out in worry.
The redneck pulled himself out of the wreck, groaning and clutching his arm. America quickly rushed to him without hesitation.
"Deputy, come back!" Jerome called. "It's too dangerous."
But she ignored him and got to Merle's side. She hooked her hands under his arms and helped drag him to safety.
"Leave me, Deputy! I'm a dead man out here." Merle winced from the pain in his shoulder.
"I'm not letting another one of you die on my watch!"
The sound of the dreaded plane caused her to pause though. She looked up and in the distance, saw the Chosen coming right at her.
"Run! Get out of here, Deputy!" Merle screamed.
Once again, she ignored him. 'That plane's taken too many lives today. And I'll be damned if I let it take another one.' She thought.
Her eyes lowered to the M-60 that fell off the Death Wish when it crashed. With a bravery bordering on stupid, she raced for the big gun.
"Dep, NO!" merle tried to stop her, but was incapable of doing so.
America picked up the machine gun and aimed it at the closing in plane. She pulled the trigger and the gun flashed as it fired. The lawbringer felt every bullet leave the drum as she screamed bloody murder at the murderous cultist.
At the same time, the Peggie released its own firepower at the single target. Everyone watched in amazement as the junior deputy stood in between a storm of bullets as she released her own firepower upon the weapon of death.
America continued to let out a battle cry and ignored the painful stings of the powerful rounds scrapping against her skin.
Despite being so far away, the Chosen piloting the plane could feel the woman's intenseness and for a split second he had forgotten the Father's teachings and was overcome with fear. He faltered and three bullets struck him in the chest, neck and face.
America's battle cry ended when the gun finally ran dry of ammo. The plane itself also stopped shooting and seemed to be diving more and more with no sign of pulling up. It rushed over her head. She turned around to follow it, just in time to see it crash and skid against the road.
The plane, now grounded and on fire, left a trench in the concrete road that was over twenty yards long. It finally came to a stop and all was dead silent. That is until the co-pilot's spot opened up and someone was trying to crawl out of the wreck.
Glaring, America tossed aside the empty M-60 and unholstered her new lever action rifle. Without taking her eyes off the sole survivor, she marched toward him.
The last Peggie climbed out of the burning wreck. He removed his red ski mask, revealing an ugly face. A large nose, big brow, a tuff of dirty blonde hair to go along with his ugly mug. He was panting for breath. On the side of his head was a trail of blood. When he calmed down enough he looked at the pilot's seat to see his friend dead, riddled with bullets and burning along with the plane. Looking around him, he saw more of his fellow cultists, lying dead.
He heard foot steps and turned around in time to see America approach him with the Ghost in her hands and an unreadable expression on her face. But he didn't care about that.
The Peggie awkwardly tried reaching for his gun, but America's reaction was quicker. The single round went through the man's arm. Causing him to drop his gun and clutch the hole in pain.
"Fucking bitch! You fucking sinner bitch! You killed them! You killed all of them!" He sporadically motioned to the corpses around him. "The Father's children . . . my brothers and sisters. You fucking soulless sinn-KHAR!"
America shoved the rifle's barrel into the man's mouth.
"Shut the fuck up . . . sinner."
His eyes widened in fear and from her words. She pulled the trigger, launching the man back and splattering blood on the wrecked plane.
America took a long deep breath, like she was collecting herself. She closed her eyes and listened. There was no more shouting or gunfire. No more people trying to kill each other. For a moment it was peaceful. Peaceful. Peace, surrounded by crackling fires and its burning contents.
She looked to her left. Bodies: both Peggie and civilian alike. To her right. Destruction, with more bodies of peggies and civilians alike.
'A war.' She finally realized. 'I'm in a war.'
She was told that that's what she was participating in. But it didn't sink in until just now.
A part of her couldn't help but laugh bitterly. 'This is what my mama always told me about. What I tried to avoid. Fuck . . . how did she deal with the bodies.'
"So many dead." She said hollowly.
"Deputy . . ."
She turned around and saw Pastor Jerome and Mary May giving her looks of concern. Behind them . . . were the survivors. Men and women looked at her with awe. Relief sighed from their mouths as they finally had their home again. Hope filled their eyes . . . just from looking at her.
America released a breath that felt like she was holding for years. She swallowed her fears, her concerns, her sorrow. Whatever she felt didn't matter. All the dead bodies around her didn't matter. What mattered were the ones left alive. That's what she was responsible for.
It was her duty to protect these people and bring the ones accountable to justice.
America raised Fall's Ghost in the air and yelled triumphantly, "Fall's End is ours!"
Everyone cheered and yipped and danced. Mary hugged Casey, who gave her a one-armed hug back and a big old grin on his face. Merle bearhugged the nearest resistance member and laughed like the crazy loon he was, before yelling out in pain from his broken arm. Jerome looked to be on the brink of tears and many of his people came to place their hands on him in comfort.
America received all kinds of praise. From handshakes, to pats, to hugs, to teary thank yous, she had to refuse some kisses. Many just seemed so enamored by her. The liberation of their town was one of the greatest things to happen to them all in a long, long time. To many it was a miracle.
A miracle that she brought to them.
That Night
The day had come to an end. Night came upon Hope County.
The rest of the day was spent cleaning up the debris and bodies. The peggies were burned or thrown into the wild to sate wandering bears and wolves. The Resistance that died in the fight were given quick burials and funerals.
It wasn't much, but it was the best they could do under their circumstances. Pastor Jerome promised to give proper funerals once the peggies were gone.
"If the peggies will be gone." A dower note left by one of the survivors.
'Despite all the deaths, many have hope again.' America thought.
There was new life being breathed into the people. The residents were smiling, laughing, and joking when they were setting up barriers around the perimeter. It was a coping mechanism for the civilians. For dealing with their situation. At least, that's what Pastor Jerome said.
The water tower was turned into a makeshift watchtower for snipers and lookouts. Mounted machine guns were set up on rooftops on every corner of the town, plus one or two inside the town.
The owners of the general store and garage took up shop again, now that the peggies were gone. For the time being. The store owner did what he could to supply the Resistance, but there was only so much he could spare without going bankrupt.
Jerome and Mary were completely understandable and made a deal for trading goods. But that would be discussed about on the morrow. Thankfully, they saved quite the amount of supplies from the peggies.
America walked passed the garage and overheard Merle arguing with the mechanic. Merle's arm was in a sling and one or two of his ribs might've been cracked, but that didn't stop the redneck from tearing into the mechanic about being careful with his "baby."
The Death Wish was really damaged. All the windows were cracked, with the windshield being completely destroyed. The good-looking paintjob was smeared and scraped. The gunner's spot was wrecked, and the engine wouldn't stop steaming. Merle wanted to take parts from the peggie's trucks, but the mechanic wanted to use them to better help the Resistance.
America yawned. She was exhausted from all the day's events and felt like she was running on fumes. She contemplated about going home, but with the peggies out there, it wasn't safe and no doubt the cult was skulking about her place.
A neon sign caught her attention and her eyes lingered on the silhouette-like image of a bikini-clad woman with American flag wings on her back. The sight of it made her smirk.
"Heh, the Spread Eagle." She said amusedly.
The first time she waltzed into the place she thought it was a strip joint. With such a name and a "pleasing-to-the-eye" sign, she was confused why everyone told her to go to the Spread Eagle. She was relieved, yet somewhat disappointed it wasn't a strip club. But the alcohol was good and the people even more so, if not a little rough around the edges. Montanan hospitality at its finest.
She met the famous Mis Mary May and found the woman good company and easy on the eyes. Though for her first visit, which was three days ago, it felt like there was a kind of downheartedness in the air. Like everyone was sad about something and that feeling just hung around. Because she was new to the county she didn't ask.
Now she knew.
She swung open the door and found Pastor Jerome pacing and reading from his bible. America assumed he was preparing another sermon.
"He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death, or mourning, or crying, or pain."
The Pastor's voice was deep, and soothing to the ears. It was almost like Joseph's, but instead of a deep-seeded dread behind the words, it was actual love and care.
Feeling elated by the man's words, America finished the verse for him. "'For I know the plans that have made for you.' Declared the lord. "'Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.'"
The Pastor spun around and smiled kindly seeing her.
"Revelation 21:4."
"You know your bible verses."
"Like I know the back of my hand, Pastor."
"Please, you can call me Jerome. My friends do." He approached and raised his open hand to her. She grasped his hand and squeezed it in a brother-in-arms like fashion.
"I'll keep that in mind, Jerome. But I call you Pastor out of respect. You've led these people and kept them going strong. We're lucky to have someone like you protecting us."
The Pastor smiled more. "It's you we're lucky to have. The peggies had us by the throat. We were in the darkness until you showed up. You were like a miracle that God sent himself."
That explained why some of the townsfolk followed her around like she was a life line. Despite herself she smiled a little at the compliment but shook her head.
"I'm just a junior deputy, Pastor, just doing my job. I'm no miracle. Far from it."
A real miracle would've saved everyone.
Jerome stared directly into her eyes. "I don't claim to know God's plan, but I know a good thing when I see one." It felt like he was staring into her soul. "You're getting quite a reputation, Deputy Jones. You're the first good thing to happen in this valley in a long, long time."
"A little help."
Coming down the stairs was the bar owner herself, Mary May. In her arms, blocking her view were three crates. Definitely more then she could handle. Both the Pastor and Deputy went to help her.
"Are you trying to break your neck?" Jerome lightly scolded.
"Seemed like a good idea at the time." She grunted.
Jerome relieved one box from Mary and America quickly took the second. As soon as the blonde had her sight back, she gave the Deputy a pleasant smile.
"Well shit, it's you. Sorry didn't realize." She said winded.
The three walked to the counter and set the boxes of, apparently, alcohol on them.
"All you've done, might as well add mover to the list."
"Should I put that next to deputy, crackshot, or savior?" America joked.
Mary smirked. "Shit, put it next to modesty."
"I thought Eden's Gate confiscated all of this?" Jerome asked as he picked up a bottle of hard liquor from the crate.
"Now what kind of Fairgrave would I be if I didn't have a hidden stash?"
On one of the boxes was a picture of a young Mary with an older gentleman. Spectacled, farmers tan, and rugged. Mary picked up the frame and looked at it forlornly.
"Learned from the best . . ."
Jerome looked over her shoulder and sighed at the picture. "This town . . . it's been through a lot. We owe you thanks, but—"
"I know you're looking for your people." Mary interrupted bringing them two mugs. "But the truth is, you ain't the only one in need of help right now. Pastor and I have been doing our best, but we can only do so much." She poured them some whisky.
"If you can see about lending a hand, we'll be sure to return the favor."
America raised her cup. "It's my job to help the people. You needn't ask. We're going to save as many as we can."
The other two raised their mugs and all three then downed the drinks.
"Mary'll get you squared away. When you get the chance, come by the church. I'll be there." Jerome said and left the bar.
"You know a place I can rest for the night, Mis Fairgrave?" America asked.
"You don't need to be all formal now, Deputy. Call me Mary May, like all my friends."
"I'll keep that in mind Mis Mary May."
"Heh, smartass. If you need some place to sleep for the night I got a guest room upstairs that's all yours. It's the first door on your right."
"I appreciate it Mis Mary."
"Just get up there and try learning to say my name without the "mis" part."
America chuckled. "I'll try."
"Good night, Deputy."
She walked up the stairs but stopped halfway before turning around. "America. You can call me America, Mary. Good night."
Without waiting for a response from the bartender the rookie cop headed up the stairs. She found the guest room and let out a relieving breath seeing a nice plush bed.
The Deputy removed her clothes, untied her hair, and took off her boots. In nothing more then her underwear she stared up at the ceiling fan. Spinning, spinning, spinning.
She felt like that was her life now. Spinning, spinning, spinning, with no end in sight. Out of her control.
She turned off the light and closed her eyes. Now that she had a truly quiet moment, all the day's events flashed through her eyes. All the destruction she caused, all the death she brought, but most of all she saw all the nightmarish things that the cult had done in just one day.
One day, so many dead, so many lives destroyed.
One day.
"How long can this possibly go on?"
Author's Notes:
Just so everyone knows: I made Fall's End a little bigegr in the game to make the fight more interesting. Even putting the Town Hall there too. I apologize for the aerial battle. It wasn't very good and I've never written one before. If anyone has any advice for writing aerial battles I'm all ears.