Sam wiped the blood from his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last few minutes. He was glad he had put on some of his old clothes for the fight, because they were now ruined. He swung the axes his axes and another man fell, his head cleanly lopped off. He ducked another blow and Michael, the man who had saved his life earlier, buried a hatchet in the skull of the most recent attacker. They had been going like this for nearly fifteen minutes and had given up innumerable small nicks and scratches each, and fatigue was beginning to set in.
Each new swing of his axes was slower than the last and it was not long before he thought he could not lift the weapon again, despite the hundreds of enemies left to kill. Michael stepped in, and as a cheer went up behind him, he sliced open their newest opponents chest and followed it with a punch to the face that broke her nose.
“Come on,” Michael said, dragging Sam back toward the source of the cheering. Others closed the gap they left, but it was for only a few moments as a large group of men, all glowing white, pushed through beside him and started swinging weapons of their own.
Revitalized by the sight of reinforcements, Sam swung again with new strength, tearing the arm from the body of the first Other to cross his path. He continued the onslaught with reckless abandon, Michael following close behind. He almost tripped over the body of one of the still glowing reinforcements, but managed to right himself and swung as a form walked in front of him. Michael grabbed his arm, stopping the axe in mid-swing.
Sam cleared the blood from his eyes and apologized to the white-limned man before him. He thought he recognized the gargoyle on the black leather jacket, but they were both off attacking something else before he had a chance to ask about it. He started as a shot rang out from over head, knocking down a nearby Other. Sam took the chance and looked around, trying to discern where the shot came from, and caught a glimpse of Zach and Sarah on a nearby rooftop. He managed to wave to them, and then modified the movement to wipe the blood from his face again. He was feeling weak again, his arms feeling heavy, but he pushed on because he knew to stop was to die.
“Michael,” He shouted, and he heard his companions reply shouted back.
“I need you,” Sam had to pause for breath, “to take the lead,” he finished.
Michael pushed by him and Sam sagged, taking a few moments to catch his breath, listening to the blood rushing in his ears, punctuated by the occasional shot from above. Once such shot hit the head of a nearby man, the blood and grey matter raining down on Sam. Wiping his whole face with the front of his shirt, Sam’s vision was clear long enough for him to see a number of large torches enter the square. “Michael,” He called again, and pointed toward the new arrivals.
“I see them!” Michael said and began to carve a path toward the torches. It was a blow from the side that brought him down. Sam had turned the other way to deal with a pair of Others there, and when he turned back, Michael was on the ground before him.
Sam wildly swung his axes, creating a small open area in which he was able to see that Michael was still moving. “Hang in there man,” Sam said, a grunt coming in reply from Michael.
Sam swung again, keeping a number of Others at bay as he got closer to his friend. He could not see any blood, “Can you get up?”
Michael tried to, but collapsed back to the ground before he had even made it to his knees. He shook his head.
“Damn it,” Sam said as he had to swing his axes at an Other that got too close. It took a step backward and then fell over, a large hole in it’s chest. Sam silently thanked whoever it was that had shot the man and then took to dragging Michael in the direction they had come. Luckily, he encountered another defender before moving very far and their combined efforts got Michael to relative safety.
“You going to be okay?” Sam asked, sitting on the ground beside his friend for a moment.
“I… I think… so,” Michael said, his breathing labored.
Sam got up and began to search for someone to help Michael and eventually ran into Jason, who he remembered from when Peter had come in. “Doc, you got to help my friend,” He said, trying to pull the doctor away from the man he was already attending.
“Hang on a sec,” Jason said, tying off the stitches he had been applying to the man’s arm. “Be careful,” He told the man, who was already getting back up, a baseball bat in hand. “Now where’s your friend at?”
Sam dragged the doc to where Michael lay, gasping for air.
Jason pulled his stethoscope out and listened to Michael’s chest shaking his head.
Sam shook Jason, “You’ve got to help him.”
Jason stood up and shoved Sam. “Look, I can’t do anything with you putting your hands on me, now if you want me to help him, you have to let me do my job. The best thing you can do is make sure he has a place to look forward to when he recovers.”
Wide eyed Sam apologized, “Yeah, uh, sorry. I don’t know-“
“Go on, let me save your friend.”
Sam turned back to the fighting, looking over his shoulder once as he approached the swirling mass of bodies. He managed to push his way through his companions and was nearly at the front lines when he caught sight of the torchbearers again. With a new found rage, Sam pushed passed friends and foe alike, getting clipped on the arms with a knife that drew a thin line of blood and a baseball bat on the other, that numbed his arm. He was in sight of the torchbearers when he stopped, recognizing the man in the middle of all of them, and also Peter and Amy across the opening.