That left us with seventeen Freaks to kill. I nodded my approval to Tegan, who still had my rifle. She inched forward on the platform, braced, and fired. Though her aim wasn’t all that good, the higher vantage helped. I suspected she hadn’t intended to shoot one through the back, but it worked. The monster cried out in rage and spun, snarling a challenge. Not a fatal shot. She unloaded again, this time catching the Freak in the chest, and that ended it. From her exultant expression, it felt good to assert her strength. I didn’t undervalue her healing skills, but defensive ability made a person feel powerful, and she needed that.
Tully reloaded and killed another one, Spence accounted for two more. That was what I had been waiting for—slightly better odds. The men needed a decisive victory to restore the morale we’d lost wandering around and begging for help. I gave the signal to leap down and began the next stage of the battle. As one, we attacked from above. To me, the others were a blur of fists and blades. I had my knives out before the first Freak reached me. It lunged and I replied with a lightning slice of my wrist.
It felt good to cut its throat.
Another took its place. The clearing was a mass of snarls and lashing claws, snapping fangs. Fade fought his way to my side and took his position at my back. We fought as we always had, like one person, and the beauty of our coordinated movements felt like sparking. Stalker was a whirlwind of graceful savagery; everywhere he moved, the beasts went down. Tegan’s gun went quiet, and I suspected she didn’t trust herself to fire while we were fighting. I respected her for knowing her limitations, even as one of Tully’s bolts slammed into the monster I was battling.
As I took on another, I glanced over at Thornton, who stunned a beast with his weighted fist and Morrow ran it through. They were efficient together, brute force coupled with finesse. Morrow saw me looking and winked, then he whirled back into the fight. Behind me, Fade fought with his whole body—elbows, shoulders, knees—while deftly avoiding their snapping jaws. I blocked a feint in my direction, then tried a new maneuver; I launched a kick, and when the Freak leapt back to avoid it, I disemboweled it on a low, forward rush.
Our plan turned into a chaotic melee with Freaks moving wildly. Some lashed out at whomever was nearby; others fled. Tully and Spence dropped the last two as they bounded toward the edge of the clearing. I was breathing hard but euphoric. This definitely counted as a victory. All around me, the men were celebrating.
“It’s only one fight,” I said, “but this is where it begins.”
They responded by stomping their feet and hooting. Tegan moved through, checking us out. Apart from Tully and Spence, we all had minor scrapes, bruises, and claw marks, but nothing serious, no wounds that required much medical attention. We’d needed to prove our ability like this; it would bolster our resolve through the tough times, and I had no doubt those were looming on the horizon.
I went on, “Let’s get these bodies out of here. They’ll soon be stinking up the place.”
“What should we do with them?” Spence asked.
After considering how they had tormented us and ultimately destroyed Salvation, the answer came to me. My heart felt cold as ice as I replied, “Drag them past the edge of the forest. Take their heads. Then burn the rest.”
“What’re we doing with the heads?” Thornton demanded.
Stalker answered for me, an approving light in his eyes. “I suspect we’re planting them on stakes in a perimeter around our territory.”
“That’s exactly right.”
Morrow frowned. “That seems barbaric.”
“It is. It’s also a warning they’ll understand because it’s one they issued to us.”
By their expressions, a few didn’t like this, especially Morrow and Tegan, but I was done playing. The Freaks knew precisely what this meant—and that was the point. If they respected our boundary posting, then we’d get bored and have to change our strategy. If they did not—and I both hoped for and expected an enraged challenge—then things would get interesting.
Alongside the others, I helped with the hauling. Stalker kept a sharp eye on the terrain around us, as this was a dangerous point. We were off guard, dealing with the aftermath of the battle. Plus, we stood in an open field while stacking the headless Freak corpses in preparation for burning. Tegan gathered dry grass and other kindling in order to speed the bonfire along and Thornton donated a splash of liquor he’d picked up in one of our many stops. Once lit, the monsters made a fearful stink with a column of smoke pluming up like a signal fire.
And that was when the second wave appeared.
They swarmed from the south, and Fade’s warning shout gave us enough time for Spence to fire off a few rounds and Tully to unload two bolts before they hit us. I drew my blades, dancing back enough that I had room to move. It would be the worst luck and the ultimate irony if I fell over a Freak corpse and got clawed to death for my clumsiness.
They came too quick for me to get a count, and that fast I was fighting for my life. Four of them. Where’s Fade? I blocked with my right forearm, slicing two talons with my left so they hung from a spider spool of muscle and skin, dangling, dangling. Another slash cut through entirely and left stumps of bloody bone jutting from the maimed hand. The other three reacted as one; and I couldn’t block all of their blows. I flipped backward, arms extended for balance, but didn’t land clean since the grass was damp with blood. My feet slipped, thus yielding the advantage to my enemies.
Fortunately, I recovered fast enough to avoid everything but two swipes of their collective claws. Blood bubbled in the runnels they left in my flesh, but I spiked my daggers into the first one’s chest, then tore it wide open. Freaks tended to be predictable in their attacks. Over the years, I’d learned how they fought: swipe, swipe, snap with teeth. If they sank them into you, however, they locked their jaws. I rolled away from a snarling attack, using the damp ground to carry me out of range.
Before they could reach me, I rolled to my feet, ignoring the pain in my arms. What were a few more scars? Around me, I caught a glimpse of Fade, fighting to reach me, and Stalker, who was killing like it was his favorite thing in the world. I heard grunts from Thornton and nothing at all from Morrow. Spence was conserving his ammo, favoring knife and boot, while Tully shot from behind him. The chaos of killing was beautiful in a way, and I contributed to it by opening another’s veins as it ran at me. Blood spurted from its wounds, not fetid, just salt, copper, and that strong, meaty tang.