Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cursed Hills
Zone IV
Zone IV
One
by one Alana’s men fell. They gave their lives dearly, yet the outcome was
inevitable; Viker’s Angels had regrouped, pulling all of their mutated
followers in line and body by body, they were gaining the upper hand.
“Alana,
it appears our guests decided to bring reinforcements.”
Shin’s
message was unwelcome, but not unexpected. Viker meant to have his revenge and
he would not shy from the death toll necessary to achieve his ends. She killed
her latest opponent and used her jets to jump back, clearing her personal space
for just a moment. On her HUD, the newcomers were more than apparent. It seemed
as though Viker had used his power liberally, creating more of his winged
followers who now he threw into the fray. Well, she had not expected to survive
this encounter only to sell her life the most expensively that she could.
“Regroup,”
she transmitted, “fall back on me…”
Winged
shapes plummeted downwards into the rear of the Angels, claws tearing and
rending, shocking Alana into silence.
“The
demons,” Shin said on an open channel, “are they here to help?”
“That
I think is unlikely,” replied Alana, at last seeing a potential chance of
survival.
“Retreat!”
she called urgently. “This is our opportunity.”
“But..”
began Shin.
“Move
it!” snarled Alana, blood lust was one thing, but stupidity another.
Discipline
kicked in and the survivors, the pitiful few left from her original men and
Johns’ people, disengaged. It was easier than expected as the Angels turned to
meet this new attack, bestial ferocity against cunning and numbers. The few too
slow to ascertain where the new threat came from gave Alana’s people something
to assuage their unspent rage upon, but soon enough they were free and clear to
reform upon her position.
Alana
gasped in shock as she counted heads. She knew there must be more, but Shin
confirmed her worst fears as he struggled up the hill towards her.
“I
am the last,” he said matter-of-factly, “where do we go now?”
“Away
from here,” said Alana, “somewhere to lick our wounds and plan our escape.”
“What
about Viker?” asked the exhausted man, “When do we deal with him?”
Alana
winced at the harsh tone in Shin’s voice. Was it condemnation of her own action
in retreating? Or was it just exhaustion, grief and excess of adrenalin? She
shrugged off her self-pity. There was little use for it now.
“There
will be another day,” she promised, surprised at the certainty in her own
voice, “we have not finished with him yet.”
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