Shepherds and Wolves: Survivor Chronicles 3

By Mike Sutton

Andre, the betrayer makes his way through the sewers of Jefferson as two armies fighter overhead. There he finds one surprise after another as his plans fall apart.

To the west a vast army of crusading pilgrims is on the march, straight towards Haley and Jason. Devouring any and all who come into their path, as they wage war on the remnants of humanity, and to bring our species to a fiery end at last.

Third book of the series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Sutton
• Release date: Aug 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476406589

Mike Sutton

A biography eh? Well we'll keep this short and down to the bare essentials. Mike likes shiny objects. Is a passably proficient drooler. And is thankful to the Computing Gods for the benevolent gift of spell-check software to our unworthy species. Since you're interested enough to have gotten this far, kindly leave some feedback in the form of ratings and reviews.

Book preview

Shepherds and Wolves: Survivor Chronicles 3

Mike Sutton

Published by Mike Sutton at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 Mike Sutton

ISBN: 9781476406589

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Survivor Chronicles 1: Rapture

Survivor Chronicles 2: Ploughshares into Swords

Survivor Chronicles 3: Shepherds and Wolves

Survivor Chronicles 4: Flower of Fire

From too much love of living,

From hope and fear set free,

We thank with brief thanksgiving

Whatever gods may be

That no life lives for ever;

That dead men rise up never;

That even the weariest river

Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Gardens of Proserpine - Algernon Charles Swinburne

Andre shrugged off his fine silk jacket and left it lying in the expanding puddle of water, at least he hoped it was water, where it fell. The jacket was quickly followed by an equally expensive vest and then a matching pair of trousers. The last of his wonderful wardrobe lay on the sewer floor only to be forgotten as he struggled to quickly pull on the olive drab standard military issue fatigues, courtesy of Captain Arseneau.

The green fatigues were hideous in his eyes, no style. The material itself was a nylon-cotton mixture that was loved by the military for its durable qualities. The fabric was tough, able to withstand any abuse thrown at it rejecting tears and stains. But it also felt harsh against his skin when compared luxurious silk that he was used to. How he hated leaving his wardrobe. The clothing issue would have to be remedied immediately. He was not a mere soldier to be content with such garments.

Andre slipped his Walther PPK from his trouser pocket and into the holster underneath the hollow of his left arm, and then pulled the fatigue coat on over it. He had been carrying the gun secretly for months now, though he had never had any reason to discharge it, even during his confrontation with Haley. He hadn’t been fool enough even to bring it along then, he would have only ended up as another corpse should he have crossed blades with that woman. The willful bitch! How her escape made him burn with anger. She had managed to avoid his wrath, and perhaps even murder the men he had sent to teach her a lesson. Now and again he thought that he should have taken care of the matter himself when he had the chance, though, had he been armed that night she would have shot him dead in an instant.

Andre had vowed that one day he would find Haley and put her in her rightful place. She would beg to be allowed to become his fuck doll before he was through with her, only to be given over to his most loyal men. Men you could actually trust and depend on. Women were good for only one thing. Too bad they got above themselves and forgot that universal truth. So much of the worlds misery and woe could be lain at the feet of the weaker sex.

Here he was in the dank underbelly of the city with his most trusted followers. Each and every man in the sewer that afternoon had all been chosen to go with him for a reason. Two reasons actually. The first was that they happened to be nearby at when he was making good his escape. The second was that they were still alive. He had started with better than five times that number. Still, all of the men were loyal to him and reasonably capable. Most of them were capable. A few were accompanying him in the role of human-shields, disposable weapons to be dropped when they were no longer of any value.

His men were loyal. Their flight just ensured their loyalty. When Arseneau won, then these soldiers would need to shelter underneath Andre’s influence with their new leader, and if Arseneau lost, well they could never go back to the legion and would be permanently tied to Andre. Until he decided to cut their strings.

He would avenge himself on Haley for the insult, and he would start with her brother, if the man was still alive. His mind kept returning to the old wound of its own accord, which bothered Andre. He didn’t like the idea of obsessing over such an unimportant, if highly embarrassing memory. Andre grimaced and peered back into the gloom. Maybe he was going insane. He wouldn’t be the first to break under the stress in these later days, even a man with a mind like his own. All of which made his own decent into madness a frightening possibility.

The gunfire back in the compound had fallen off slowly. The first part of his plan had no doubt been a rousing success, though they seemed to have missed their attempts to neutralize that imbecilic vermin Steven. Andre had no doubt that Barry and most of the rest of his ‘council’ had been destroyed. A few probably survived of the ambush, but they would be shaken and unable to cope with what was coming, assuming they managed to survive their wounds. They were too soft. And so very dimwitted.

The second part of his plan though, that had been a failure. His loyalists had been busy setting up and attempting to seize control when Steven’s voice came roaring over the radio and roused the defenders. The cohorts to began to arm themselves against an invasion. Steven had even ordered Andre’s arrest. How much had they known? Nothing, they could have known nothing or they would have arrested him sooner. Unless Barry had prevented them from taking action.

His men, had been dieing in ‘accidents’ over the last weeks. So clearly Steven, and probably Victor too, had their suspicions. But not enough proof to act openly and directly against them. He underestimated their cunning. Those who survived the accidents had been cut down or arrested by the cohorts loyal to the fool Barry, just as they were springing into action. So many well-laid plans blown away like dandelion seeds in the wind.

He had spent months trying to convince Barry to halt the legion once and for all and take over a large territory and build a kingdom. They could have had power, wealth and most importantly, pleasure.

Pleasure. He had taken his fair share. With a dark smile he thought that perhaps he took the fool Barry’s share as well. The man after all hadn’t been using it, and so didn’t deserve the joy that it brought. And there were so many women in the camp who had been ripe for the plucking. With the right lever and a little pressure, he had been able to indulge himself frequently, almost as he chose. Too bad that Haley hadn’t been one of his conquests. He had tried his best to create the right conditions by crafting some rumors about her and Victor engaging in unnatural acts. The woman’s eyes had nearly glowed with rage when he confronted her with her ‘crimes’ and what it would cost to buy his silence. The bitch had had the audacity to pull that hand cannon that she carried and aim it at the point directly between his eyes and order him. Him. Out of her sight. Like he was her inferior.

The fool Barry wouldn’t agree to his proposals. They were on a holy mission for God, he would say over and over. Finally, they arrived in Jefferson and Andre found Captain Arseneau. A man with vision, who could see the potential. Andre’s choice was obvious from the moment his people brought him that moron, Ash. Maybe there was a God after all. They always said that God had a sense of humor, it was just that nobody mentioned how twisted and cruel that sense of humor was.

There was no betrayal on his part, though he was sure that the surviving ‘leadership’ of Barry’s legion would disagree. Andre was never loyal to Barry or his ideals. Andre was merely using the man and his army to achieve his own ends. Betrayal requires an original loyalty and then the shifting of that loyalty. He had spent weeks on his plan, ever since that wonderful radio came into his waiting hands. Arseneau’s people were to assassinate the fool Barry and his little circle, allowing Andre to step in. They would then merge their forces, with the captain taking control and Andre stepping up as his second.

Andre didn’t mind being second. He preferred being the power behind the throne so to speak. To manipulate people without their being aware that he was even there. That way, if the leader ever became despised, well then he could avoid personal implication from the people. Maneuvering people into doing what he wished them to do had been the thrill of his life before the end came. He delighted in his career as an advertising executive, seducing people into believing that they needed to spend their money on worthless junk, be it junk food or the exercise equipment they needed to stave off the effects of eating the junk food. So you too could eat pizza every night and have the body of a Greek God using the Abdominator 9000.

His proudest moment was when he put together the campaign, and yes it was a campaign since they were warring against people’s good sense (as if people had good sense, they had all laughed at that joke quite often as they brainstormed), for Cemicorp Pharmaceuticals, advertising a stimulant by telling people that they now had a cure for being tired at night. They had even come up with a fancy name for the ‘syndrome’, Semisomnus Complex. The modified Latin sounded sinister and sent sales through the roof. The president of the company had plied his team with champagne and women. A job well done.

So here he was, blocks away, hiding the sewer in the dark, with his ten most trusted followers. The ten surviving followers. Some of the men who held to his ideals, or at least were willing to offer their skills and knowledge to his goals. Men as ambitious as himself. All men. No women. Women were never to be trusted.

He waited for several minutes, listening for signs of pursuit. Whether it was light given off by their hunters, or the reverberating reports issued from the explosive traps that his men had planted as they fled. With nothing but quiet stalking them Andre nodded and switched on the lamp with a click that seemed to echo through the tunnels.

They had hiked for at least three blocks in the dark, feeling their way along the walls and stumbling over the pipes and other obstacles that seemed to delight in reaching up and grabbing their feet as they passed. The small party had shuffled along, keeping their feet on the ground at all times as they slid one step forward, quietly, their ears open and weapons gripped in sweaty hands as they strained to catch the sound of footfalls or a flicker of light in the distance.

Now, they were far enough away, with a large enough head start to throw caution to the wind. Besides, the legion would soon have enough on their plates in a few minutes, to bother with chasing after him in the dark.

Andre calmed his heart and smiled once again. Come on. He whispered harshly, waving his followers onward. Two of the fools actually jumped at the sound of his voice. Albert and Benny. Two of his younger soldiers, both recent recruits of the legion. One of them had actually acted a spy for a small community within the city limits. He had been sent when the legion entered Jefferson proper and made themselves at home. Andre had brought him into his fold by promising that he alone could protect the man’s family from the fury of the legion once they learned who he was. Most people in the city were terrified of the violent newcomers, some even more than they were of the countless dangers that they dealt with on a day-by-day basis.

Andre planned to use their fear to his advantage. Assuming that his plans collapsed today and the legion managed to fight off Arseneau. There were always more plans. Many different paths to lead to a single goal. Some just happened to be longer than others.

Andre marked the two cowards for purging when their travails were over at last. Until they were all out of the sewers and safe, he would need them. Their firepower at least and their lives. Andre smiled to himself. Here were a group of ten men who would throw themselves on a hand grenade to save his life without a second thought. And he would gladly see them do so, without even a first thought.

He had survived the collapse that came with the apocalypse. And then clawed his way to near the top of the greatest power for a hundred miles or more in any direction. He was clearly meant for greatness, and these men would see that his destiny was fulfilled. They only needed to pass safely through these tunnels first.

The sewer dwellers might not be cannibals like all of the rumors implied, but they were still even more unpleasant and opportunistic as the rest of the communities that remained in the city. They were by no means aggressive, especially when compared to the legion or Arseneau’s men, but they would still happily ambush and rob a weaker party if they happened to pass into their territory. At least that was how they often worked when on the surface. Down in the depths of the tunnels underneath the city, who knew how they might respond to trespassers who dropped into their laps. With any luck though, they would find the new made passage into the legion’s compound and wreak havoc.

The fool Barry had balked at making Andre his second in command, forcing Andre to take less subtle measures to get his way. Until then he hadn’t directly attacked Victor, or rather, he hadn’t taken action against Victor aside from ordering his sister and his little spy dead.

The spy. Uriah. The man was a genius when it came to covering his true nature. An actor and artist of profound skill. He had finally slipped into Andre’s clutches, but only after it was too late. The man had collected better than three quarters of the names of Andre’s willing informants. What good was a conspiracy if all of the names and faces of the conspirators were known to their enemies? Andre raged against himself for having missed Uriah for all those weeks, or even months, that the man had been spying for Victor. Still, the man had his talents, and that was to be respected, even as the obstacle was being removed. More so afterwards, when he was rendered safe.

Andre left his weapon in its holster, leaving defense to his lackeys. They were each armed with one of the assault rifles that Arseneau’s people favored, M-16s as he recalled, and as much spare ammunition as they could comfortably carry. Andre would draw his weapon, but only if necessary. Let the little minds do the fighting. He was made for greater things.

The beam of light stretched out in front of the column and bobbed along with each step that Andre took, passing along the floor and walls as the lamp swayed in his hand. He had positioned himself at the center of a hollow box, three men on either side, two up ahead on point and the last pair bringing up the rear. They had only three flashlights between them, enough light if they remained together, but damn anyone who got separated from the group.

Now and again they passed beneath a manhole cover, with the small beams of white light knifing through the blackness marking their passage through the underworld. Andre counted the manhole covers as they passed. It was his way of gauging the distance that they traveled. Arseneau’s fortress was south and east of their own home. The squad had twenty blocks to cross to reach their sanctuary. As the crow flew. More than that when he figured their zigzagging path through the darkness. Assuming that they didn’t get lost. And it was so easy to get lost down here in the dark. Even now they could be walking north instead of south.

The party was fifteen blocks out of the legion’s compound by Andre’s best estimate and still charging south when he called for a halt in the light of one of the manhole covers underneath a cross street. Six blocks east and nine south by his count. He had assigned Albert to keep track as well just in case he got confused. Does that sound right to you? Andre asked in a gravely whisper.

Albert shuffled forward from his position as the rear guard. The rest of the soldiers spread out, forming a circle and whispering among themselves as they waited for him to renew the orders to march. I got five east and nine south boss.

Andre did the math in his head, quickly recounting the journey so far. Two blocks east and one south from the compound… Close enough. He said, folding the map of the city and returning it to the inner coat pocket next to his pistol. Albert returned to his position at the rear next to Benny.

Andre raised his hand to signal them to move forward when on his left, Parker dropped his flashlight in a clatter, sending it spinning until it stopped and pointed at Andre’s boots. Andre was about to curse the man’s clumsiness when Parker made a gurgling noise and fell. Blood bubbles formed at his lips and popped as he followed the lamp to the ground, one hand clamped over his throat the other with a death grip on his rifle. Andre cursed and flashed his light down on Parker’s body. A crossbow bolt was sticking out of his throat, with an expanding crimson halo forming around the man’s head as he lay motionless on the concrete floor. All eyes were on Parker’s corpse, Albert and Benny were both wide eyed, their mouths moving slowly. And they weren’t the only cowards.

An undulating cry seemed to come from all four directions at one time. Echoing off the walls and creating an eerie music that seemed to merge together in the intersection. The sewer dwellers! They would have to wait until he had taken up a position that would be difficult to defend. Clearly they weren’t stupid savages as he had always imagined them to be.

Form a box and face outward. Andre said, keeping his voice calm and level. It was best if his followers thought that he was calm and in control. Even better if they were more afraid of him than they were of anyone or thing walking on or below the surface of the earth. He took Parker’s vacated position, shining his light down the tunnel to the east, standing behind Jones’ shoulder.

Several forms moved in and out of the beam of light as he waved the lamp back and forth, trying to illuminate the entire corridor at once. The cry lessened as a second bolt flew from the darkness and snatched his flashlight from his hand and shattered it on the ground.

Got a count? He asked.

Negative boss. They just keep moving. More than twenty here I think from this side. Jones said, waving his rifle back and forth tracking the quickly moving figures as they disappeared into the shadows cast along the walls of the sewer. The sound of dozens of feet slapping on the concrete, running feet, filled the space left behind by the war cry. His own soldiers where shuffling their feet as if they wished scatter and flee.

Open fire. Andre said as he picked up Parker’s light and shined it back down the corridor where the two bolts had come from.

Nine rifles going off at the same time make a lot of noise. In an open field it can be damaging to your hearing after a time. In the sewer tunnels the sound was nearly murderous. The thunder blanketed the group and scoured every other noise away. It took all of Andre’s immense will not to drop the flashlight and slap his hands over his ears and fall to his knees and howl in agony. Instead, he pulled his PPK and joined in, aiming low and firing round after round until the magazine was empty.

Muzzle flashes hinted at the scene of carnage out at the edge of their circle as bodies fell to the ground and lay still. Serves them right for trying to bite off more than they could chew. Andre lowered his pistol and put a bullet through a figure crouching at the edge of the light, taking the man in the stomach. To be wounded in the stomach made for a terribly painful way to die, and would be a hard lesson.

He let his people empty two magazines before calling them to cease-fire. Andre’s ears felt like they were bleeding as he imagined the sounds of the gunfire slowly drifting away as it echoed through the sewers. They would probably hear that for miles in every direction.

He took a moment to survey his surviving men. Benny was down, with an arrow through his stomach, and struggling to stand. Albert was leaning over to help him. Andre waved him off, picked up the man’s fallen rifle, and put a bullet through his head. Wounded would only slow them down, and that would mean his death.

Andre grabbed Benny’s ammunition bag and slung it over his shoulder. Jones took Parker’s weapon and ammunition and he divided it amongst the rest of the troops, replenishing their spent magazines. He gave the lamp to Albert and ordered his people to move on, quickly, using hand gestures. He doubted that they could hear any better than himself at the moment as he attempted to shake off the ringing that had overwhelmed his ears.

Andre picked up the pace and had his men move forward at a jog, heading south once more. Quick-stepping over the limbs of bullet riddled sewer dwellers. Men, women and children were all counted among the slain. Some of them twitched as the nine figures trotted past. He heard someone behind him vomit and several faces looked a little green as they took in the carnage. Albert he guessed was the weakest link once again. The man needed to be removed, and quickly. There was no room for such weakness in his followers. Andre kicked the face of a wounded man as they passed, breaking several of the man’s teeth with his boot. In order to survive here, you had to be strong and hard.

This is the correct manhole yes? Andre hardly waited for Albert’s nod. Correct manhole. They had traveled twenty-four blocks underground in the dark, if they were within five blocks of their destination, he would be pleased. Jones, you first. Secure the surface. Albert and I will protect the rear in case our friends return.

Jones nodded and scurried up the ladder, the rest followed in record time, no doubt wishing to be back in the safety of the sunlight. He could hear them as they called out. Do you hear that? Andre asked, peering into the gloom?

What sir?

A footstep in the dark. Check it out. Albert stood up and readied his rifle. Fire a couple warning shots first. The soldier nodded and raised his rifle to the shoulder, blasting away into the dark, one round at a time.

Sir, I don’t… The rest was cut off by a final gunshot.

Andre holstered his sidearm and climbed up the ladder after his soldiers.

Cover the manhole, they ambushed us and got Albert, I only made it out just in time! His men leaped to obey, sliding the heavy metal disk back in place over the gaping black hole in the street.

They stood before him in a semi-circle, the seven remaining members of his guard. Jones, Rocky (that was a joke, the man was skin and bones), Phillip, Sergey, Ollie, Kenneth (a Japanese man even more slight than Rocky, though much better with his rifle), and lastly El (he called himself El Guapo, a conceit on his part since he was homely as a mules ass, Andre refused to call him anything other than El and El refused to provide an alternate name).

He made his voice moderately cheerful. We’ve made it through the most difficult portion of our trek, our new home awaits, and soon we’ll be welcomed by our new allies and can take a much deserved rest. Andre infused his voice and words with concern, Hopefully, we’ll soon be reunited with our friends back in the legion’s compound and then we can celebrate our victory and take our due. He had promised all of his followers access to power, the power to take what they pleased, within reason, and he planned to fulfill his promises. To the ones who deserved the rewards. He had no doubts that some of them wouldn’t make it, which would leave for the truly worthy.

Andre shook his head as his men turned around and headed south towards the river. He possessed no delusions of grandeur that would blindly lead him to betray the men following him and keep everything he promised for himself, like some hoary movie villain. He would find a place of power, assume the rightful place due a man of his intelligence and talent, and then take care of the men who followed and supported him. Those who earned it.

His men had spread out into a spearhead formation and Andre took his place in the center near the rear, every now and again tossing a glance over his shoulder even as he scanned the surrounding buildings for ambush. The PPK was back in his sweaty hand as he walked and waited. He had already lost one reliable man in the venture, he didn’t need to lose any more.

The buildings along the way were unusual and time and time again little details caught his eyes. The doors were chained shut and more than one was packed with Those Things. Ollie was the first to point it out, as they stepped out of the sewers. Andre could only stare and wonder about the nature of their purpose. He was looking up at the sky when Jones called out a halt. They were at Arseneau’s compound.

A solid, chest high wall circled the perimeter, hemming in a handful of enormous warehouses. Several soldiers armed mostly with clubs patrolled the wall. Andre’s people had been spotted.

They marched, carefully towards the first sentry, while keeping their weapons pointed towards the sky. Andre held his empty hand in the air. These people were to be their new friends and allies. Though he had them clearly out-gunned, it wouldn’t do to start out by bossing them around before his position was secure.

He wore careful and calculated smile as he approached. One that told anyone he met that they were best friends to the bitter end. Andre’s favorite tactic, one that the had learned and used well in his days as an AD man. I’m Andre from the north. Captain Arseneau should be expecting my arrival. He said in a jovial voice that said that he expected no trouble.

The man frowned down at him and his men and then yelled over his shoulder, Sergeant, the man the captain warned us about has arrived! The sentry returned to frowning at the men standing at the base of the wall as he awaited the sergeant’s arrival.

Andre kept his face smooth as the sergeant approached. Such discourtesy. He made a mental note of the sentry’s face and dress. Greasy black hair and a tattered camouflage jacket over khaki pants with holes in the knees and stains along the length. A woman approached the sentry. Andre assumed that she was the sergeant. Though she was built like a man so much so that had she been back in the legion, he would have likely brought her before Barry as a dyke.

Are you now? I’m Sergeant Cervantes. She asked in a voice that was startlingly high-pitched and squeaky, almost girlish. She was the only guard armed with a military issue rifle. The rest seemed to make do with clubs and pistols. Go over there, to the middle of the wall. We’ll get you a ladder to climb over with and then get you and your men settled as we await the captain’s return.

Andre flinched a little as he nodded and ground his teeth. The sergeant tapped her subordinate on the shoulder and whispered into his ear. The man jumped down from the wall and ran towards the middle warehouse as Andre led his men to the designated spot. The woman signaled the rest of the guards and kept an eye on their progress.

The private sent to the warehouse returned at a run, a stepladder balanced on his shoulder, bouncing up and down with each step. He slid the ladder over the wall, passing it onto Jones, who unfolded it and hopped up the steps to the top of the wall and took up a position as a guard, eyes on the building. A good, loyal man Jones, Andre would see to it that he was properly rewarded.

Andre followed last, avoiding the broken glass bottles and steel spikes that had been embedded in the top of the wall. Razor wire would have been more effective in his mind, but then again, the shards of glass had been spaced so that a defender would be able to maintain a comfortable hold on the wall if he knew where to place his feet.

The woman led them towards the middle building. The captain told us that you would be coming by sewer, so I doubt that any of you will be interested in going back indoors for a while yet, instead we’ll set you up outside under the sky until the captain returns.

The woman had the audacity to insult him like this. They weren’t to be allowed back in until their soldiers returned, the true meaning rang through loud and clear. Andre kept his most disarming smile in place as she led them to the little alley between and removed his hand from his PPK and stretched his fingers.

The woman jerked her head towards the far warehouse. Go get our guests some food private. The man saluted and was off at a run again and in a few short minutes had returned with a tray full of bowls, setting them down in front of Andre and his people as they sat on old boxes and leaned up against the wall. They were given steamed rice and some canned meat sauce, bland, especially after getting used to fresh beef again, but filling. The woman even joined their meal, slinging her rifle over her shoulder and taking a bowl for herself. She even let out a content sigh after eating her fill. Until she took a bowl and began eating, Andre began to feel that his allies had been slighted again.

The woman returned her bowl to the stack, letting the private bus them out and carry them away before she returned to her position at the wall, leaving Andre and his men in the lurch.

Jones. Sergey. Take a look around. Andre whispered. I want a back door in case something goes wrong today. Find us a quick route out. Try to avoid the notice of our hosts. They seem a bit jumpy today. Jones took the front while Sergey disappeared around back, making his way towards the docks and the river.

He hadn’t expected such a cool reception, considering that he had nearly handed Arseneau the legion gift-wrapped in a nice little package. He should have counted on such a response though, after all, whoever trusted a traitor? Not even a mad man. His only hope would be that Arseneau would alleviate any misunderstanding. Unlikely as it may be. Arseneau was clearly insane, even more so than the fanatic Barry with his holy crusade.

The day was getting warm and Andre sat on his crate, fanning himself with a folded piece of newspaper that he had found in the alley. Jones returned first. They have a tank boss. The man said in a hushed tone as he leaned against the far wall.

A tank? Where did they get that? Andre stomped on his surprise and kept his voice steady as if they were just talking about the weather.

They picked it from a old armory to the south of town. They found three of them. I talked up one of the drivers and found out that the other two are being used in the assault against the compound up north. The news was both good and bad. He wanted the legion and the facilities taken largely intact. He had left his entire wardrobe up there. Dead people were of no use to him.

Sergey crept down the alley, throwing looks over his shoulder as if he expected to be followed. They have a gateway through the wall leading west along to the river. That is how they got the tanks in. The wall forms a complete perimeter around the compound, butting up against the river, and even following it to both sides of a small dock with a couple of power boats.

Power boats?

Yes sir. The really fast ones that they use for water-skiers. Each of the warehouses have a back door as well as a front, but the back doors are all closed and locked, at least the two I tried.

Are the boats ready to move?

Yes sir. Some fool left the keys in the ignition systems. They’re probably there for an emergency escape route. Sergey grinned slyly. The boats will be enough to hold our group and maybe a few supplies, should the need arise commander. Sergey was an ex-military type. His words and very actions screamed mercenary. Andre wasn’t entirely sure for whom the man had served, or what sorts of activities he had been involved in, beyond the occasional hint that the man would tantalizingly let drop to keep them on their toes. Many of which had been mutually exclusive, marking him as a boldfaced liar as well.

Regardless of other possible half-truths, it was apparent that the man was a skilled soldier and accustomed to death. Sergey was a killer, whether an actual government trained solider, or just a street punk with some skills with weapons, and he had proved it several times, Andre didn’t know for certain. And he possessed certain discretion. Andre used the man as his assassin and enforcer against particularly difficult targets. He hadn’t failed yet, though his skills had only been put to the test twice. Andre waved him to take a seat and wait with the rest.

Andre felt a tap on his shoulder. And again. He opened his eyes groggily, and wiped away the crust that had formed at the corners at his eyes. He had fallen asleep sitting on the box with his back against the corrugated steel wall. What is it? He asked. Jones was standing before him, leaning over with his hand on Andre’s shoulder.

Sir, Arseneau and his people are back.

Where at?

Out front sir. The thing is, they don’t look all that great. I think they got chopped to pieces. They’ve been climbing over the walls for the last five minutes and then staggering through the compound as if they were still dazed. A couple of trucks pulled up to the back about thirty seconds ago.

Damn it. Andre pushed himself up off the crate that he had been sitting on, stamping his numb foot a couple of times to try and regain some feeling before hobbling towards the trucks. His men followed, quickly lining up on either side, taking their places as his escort. Jones was out front as usual.

Is captain Arseneau around? Andre asked the first man in uniform that he could find.

He might be, The man muttered, shaking his head and cradling a wounded arm. Who are you?

I am Andre. The man who handed you the keys to the fool Barry’s compound. Now were is the captain? The wounded soldier sneered back at him. He sneered. Andre wanted to have one of his men shoot him, or at the very least, club the smirk off of his face. Andre exhaled. That was not the way to bend people to your will. You had to seduce them with words, tell them what they wanted, or needed, to hear, then they would dance for you. Were is your captain soldier? I need to speak to him. Andre said, plastering on his most winning smile.

The soldier grunted and pointed to an older man in an olive drab t-shirt and camouflage pants with closely cropped hair. He was fingering his side arm as he watched his troops unload the wounded from the back of two large military issue trucks. The trucks looked as if they had been through a vicious firefight.

Andre inclined his head in a slight bow and introduced himself. It’s good to finally meet you after all these weeks captain. I’m Andre, formerly of the legion. What has happened? Arseneau’s eyes opened wide saucers as he spoke only to narrow to slits. Andre had heard that the captain was insane, but he had preferred to put that off as the jealousy of small minds. Sometimes, it seemed though, the rumors were true. He was staring into the burning eyes of a madman.

They were waiting in ambush! The man screamed, bordering on the hysterical. Your friends wiped out my forces! We didn’t even manage to penetrate their compound! We were cut down at the gates! Arseneau was nearly foaming at the mouth as he spit the last word. What forces survived long enough to retreat got cut down by your cavalry as they fled. This is all I have left. I lost most of my soldiers and a lot of the conscripts too.

We were betrayed! He screeched. And when I get my hands on whoever was responsible I’ll blow their fucking head off!

The captain reached for a large handgun in his holster, drawing it and pointing it at Andre in a swift fluid motion. A dangerous man, nearly as quick as a viper. Andre heard the rattle of rifles being lowered behind him and saw Arseneau’s people draw more. A standoff. This would suit nobody’s best interest, except perhaps the survivors of the legion, and they would likely feel robbed if Andre and Arseneau killed each other.

He held up his empty hands, palms outward and yelled, Enough! The gun in his face made holding down his panic and keeping his voice clear and cool a difficult task, but his years of acting classes gave him the edge. We didn’t come here to fight!

Is that so? Arseneau asked with a deranged grin. Well, that better change quickly friend, because your legion will be right on our tails. And you can be damn sure they’ll want vengeance friend. ‘Friend’ came out as a curse, a globule of spittle flicking from his lips and landing on Andre’s coat. Andre crushed the sudden urge to wipe it off, letting it soak into his lapel. Arseneau holstered his gun and pushed past, heading to the rear door that was now wide open. His soldiers, what was left of them began following him in.

Set plan B in motion damn it! And do it now! Arseneau screamed at a group of his men before disappearing into the shade of the warehouse. The men stood still for a moment, before hurrying around the warehouse towards the front courtyard.

What’s plan bee? He heard Kenneth ask under his breath.

Andre rounded on the man. I don’t know, but we need to find out before things deteriorate further. The legion will be able to bust holes in that wall no problem if they were able to repulse Arseneau and his horde even with those tanks. I imagine that they should have some heavy ordinance left over afterwards, those tanks look ancient and none too well armored. Rocky, Jones, El, get on it now. Andre clapped and his men set to running as he sat down in the mouth of the alleyway to think.

Boats. Two of them. They would be the last resort. After everything else failed. He got seasick just watching them bob up and down. Just thinking about the rocking motion made him feel a bit ill. No, that would be put off until the end. There were still thousands of usable automobiles left in the city, and with a little work they could acquire the right vehicles to get him and his men to where they could start over again. Slipping over the wall unseen at night would be fairly simple, even with the nails and glass making the climb a little trickier.

El was the first to return, bringing news of plan B. Arseneau's people had torn down all the doors in all of the surrounding buildings, the ones that had been chained and locked, using a pair of heavy duty trucks. Then those Things, Andre refused to call them ‘the damned’ as Barry insisted, poured out of the doors and into the street, following