Hollow World Book 4 Epilogue

Clink.  Clink.  Clink.

The line of souls stretched out before Charon.  They would step up, hand him their obol, which he dropped back into his bag.  Clink.  They then stepped onto the ferry and the next one strode forward.  Rinse.  Repeat.  His skiff would soon be full again and he would depart the outer shore of the river Acheron and deposit them within the underworld for Hades to do with as he wanted.  

His pole struck the bottom of the river again and he propelled his newly emptied ferry forward.  Finally the bottom skidded along the sand and he got out, the water soaking through his boots.  He dragged the boat further onto the sand and took up his position before its bow, dropping his bag beside him again.  More souls shuffled forward.  More obols fell into his sack.  More souls crossed the river.  

Charon could see down the line, could see that trouble was approaching.  Four more souls passed and the trouble maker was in front of him.  “Dear uncle.  I should have known it would be you.”

Tartarus stood before Charon, fuming  “What took you so long?”

Charon held out his hand.

“You know I do not have one!”

“Why not?  I gave you one.”

Tartarus glared at him.

“I will see you in one hundred years.”

“No, you cannot do this to me!  Do you know who I am?”

“You were Tartarus.  And now you are just another wanderer upon the shores of the River Acheron.  You lost.”

“No!”  But Charon had already moved on to the next soul.

Clink.  Clink.  Clink.

Hollow World Book 4 Part 24

Zach took the fedora from atop his head and, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the sweat from his brow.  He refolded the kerchief and replaced his hat upon his head before pushing the bike further up the hill.  Someone had begun to fill in some of the smaller holes in the roadway with dirt and gravel, but he still had to negotiate his way around the larger ones.  He paused when he came to the top of the hill, his destination in sight.  He dropped the bike’s kickstand and unslinging his pack.  He pulled the canteen from its side and took a long pull, the water still as cold as the stream he had taken it from.  He pulled a piece of rabbit jerky from the pack and ate it, looking over the group of buildings below.  Smoke came from the main houses chimney, although the pile of firewood on the side of the building looked low.   He hopped on the bicycle again, the pedals turning a few times beneath his feet.   Once he was on the downward slope, he let gravity do the work for him, only pedaling again when the bike had almost rolled to a stop.  

He stopped beside the houses mailbox, and leaned his bike against it, as he had done when he was a kid, riding up and down the very same driveway.  He walked the rest of the way to the house and knocked on the door.

A large african american man answered, his smile bright white in contrast to his dark, weathered skin.  “You’re late.”  The man said before Zach could even open his mouth.

“Um, I’m sorry?”  Zach offered.

“You were supposed to help me with the harvest.”

“Sorry dad,”  Zach said and took the man’s extended hand.

Jud pulled his son to him, clasping Zach in a tight bear hug.  “Aubrey, guess who’s home?”

He heard the shuffle of his mother’s feet and smiled when she rounded the corner and squealed.  Jud released him and he wrapped his arms around his mother.

“He’s right you know,” She said.

“Tell you what, I’ll help you with the winter chores.  Looked like you could use some firewood.”

“That we could, but that can wait.  Tell us what you’ve seen, where you’ve been,”  His mom said, leading him by the hand into the kitchen.  “Did you guys ever find that Graham guy?”

“Yeah mom, we did…”

Amy lay asleep in the hospital bed, despite the lack of comfort she had spent the last hour complaining about.  Peter held his sleeping daughter, Elizabeth Marie, as he rocked back and forth in the hospital chair, watching her tiny chest rise and fall.  He bent his head down and kissed her forehead, shifting so he could stand up and hopefully put the girl into the small basinet the hospital had provided.

He managed to successfully navigate the labyrinth of machines and instruments that still occupied their room and set Elizabeth down in her bed.  He watched her again, sleeping, trying to remember a time when he had been so happy.  He finally managed to pull himself from the small life that he was partly responsible for and was startled when he saw that Amy was awake, sitting and watching him.  “She’s beautiful,”  he told her.  

Amy smiled and put a finger to her lips.

Peter nodded and went to her side, taking her hand in his own.  “So, what’s next for us?”

“The wedding is in less than two months.”

“Excuse me, Mayor?”  One of the nurses walked into the room, looking at Peter.

Peter exhaled and looked at Amy.  “Hold that thought.”

Peter stepped out into the hallway with the nurse, “How can I help you Anne?”

“We just delivered another baby down the hallway.  I just thought you might want to know.  It’s a boy.  Benedict.”

Peter smiled and nodded.  “Thank you.  And everyone is doing fine?

“Roger fainted, but yeah.”

“Anything else?”  Peter asked her.

“Nope, that’s it.”

“Good job today Anne,”  Peter said with another smile.  One thousand, three hundred and twenty two people, assuming no one else had wandered into the town while he had been in the hospital.

He stepped back into their room and found Amy still awake, taking a sip from an almost empty glass of water.

“Let me get you some more of that.  Would you like ice?”

Amy nodded around the straw, finally releasing it as it began to suck air. “Anything important?”

“When you’re mayor, everything’s important,”  Peter said, laughing.  “She just wanted to let me know that the Tecy’s had their boy.  Everyone is doing fine.  No, I forgot to get details.”  He added, cutting Amy’s question off.  “They named him Benedict.”

Amy smiled.  “I like that,” she said, finally handing the empty cup to Peter.

He had to go down the hallway to get ice, and poked his head into the Tecy’s hospital room on his way back.

“Congratulations, Roger,”  Peter said, shaking the new father’s hand.

“Same to you,” Roger said.

Peter held up the cup full of ice as an excuse to leave and Roger nodded. “I know, I’ve filled Sharon’s three times already.  Good night.”

“Night,” Peter said as he slipped out of the room, closing the door soundlessly behind him.  He walked back into his own room, filling the glass with water from the sink.  He handed her the cup and walked back to where his daughter lay.  She was awake and staring at the ceiling, flexing her minuscule fingers.  Peter leaned down and picked her back up, bringing her back to the rocking chair where he sat and stared at her mother.  “Now about this wedding…”

Nyx sat in a store room below the Venetian, a bottle of wine in between her and the man across the table.  “I’m so glad you managed to talk some sense into me, Ananke,”  She said.

“Yes, I’m sure you are,” Ananke said.  “I am always on the side of the winners, know that.  But I fear that our time up here needs to come to an end.”

Nyx upended the bottle into her mouth and chugged the rest of the wine.  She smiled, using her long sleeved shirt to wipe her mouth.  “That’s fine, I seem to be all out of wine.”

Hollow World Book 4 Part 23

Nearly nine months later…

Rocky chased a squirrel across the front yard, Kyle close behind, laughing raucously.

“Kyle, time for homework,”  Julie called from the porch.

“In a minute!”  Kyle said, chasing Rocky until he finally caught the mutt.  “Ok, come on boy.”  As he passed his mother, he asked “What’s for dinner.”

Darrel heard from within, and came with a glass of lemonade in hand.  “I was thinking hamburgers.”

“Can we have mac and cheese too?”  Kyle asked as he grabbed his backpack and dug through it for his notebook.

“If you finish your homework, sure.”  His father said.  He turned and bumped into the doorframe.

“Ouch,” Julie said and grabbed for Darrel’s arm, which he pulled away.

“Is it bothering you again today?”

“Yeah, there’s a storm coming in I think, it’s been bugging me all day.”  He rotated his arm, trying to stretch the months old injury out.  

“I heard Amy had her baby earlier today,” Julie said, a smile upon her face.

“Yeah, it’s a girl, we can go see her after supper if you want?”

“We will see, she may not be up for visitors yet.  Did you hear what they named her?  How big was she?”

Darrel smiled and shrugged.  “I’m sorry, I’m sure the told me but I was so anxious to get home to you that I must have forgotten.”

“Your full of it, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I’m awfully cute, right?”

“That you are.”  Julie said, wrapping her arms around her husbands neck and kissing him.

“Can you guys cut it out?”  Kyle asked, finally finding a pencil within his bag.

Darrel and Julie both laughed.  

“Come on, we’ll get those burgers going.”  Julie said, pulling Darrel into the kitchen by his sleeve. 

Kyle finished his homework and helped Julie make the macaroni and cheese while Darrel looked it over, pausing occasionally to flip the burgers.  

Breaking off a piece of his hamburger, Kyle snuck it to Rocky, unaware that both of his parents had seen him…

---

Brian sat in his garage, a guitar resting on his knee, the rest of the band playing along with him.

“That can’t be right,” the other Brian said, who was now being called Slice, an attempt at humor and an homage to his favorite musician, silencing his own guitar with his hand.  

“What do you mean, we’ve been working on this song forever.”  Jamie said, reaching out and stopping his cymbals.

“I don’t know.  I just think the lyrics are wrong.”

“We’ve been over this about a hundred times,”  Brian said, setting his guitar down and picking up a sheet of paper.  “They’re right here.”

Slice yanked the sheet from Brian's hands, mouth moving as he read the words. “Birthday party cheesecake jellybean boom?  That makes no sense,” He finally said.

“Do you want to listen to it again?  Our first concert is in three days and I want to open with this.”  Brian said, walking over to where his CD’s sat on a shelf.  He flipped through them, pulling out the one labeled ‘Document.’

“No, we’re fine,” Timothy said, finally setting his bass down.  “Besides Slice, you’re not singing so what’s it matter to you anyways?”

“Fine,” Slice huffed.  “Let’s take it from the top.”

Jamie counted them off, “One, Two, Three, Four.”

“That’s great it starts with…”

---

Sarah sat by the empty fireplace, ashamed that she still could not bring herself to have a fire in it.  She had a stack of books that she had read on the floor to her left and a stack to her right of books that were still untouched.  She had a glass of red wine resting on the coffee table, which she took a sip from.  It was still fresh, only having been in the bottle a few days.  She knew it would taste better with age, but the bottle had been calling to her.  There was a knock at the front door of her apartment and she rose to answer it.  She peered out the peep hole and had to wipe a tear from her eyes before she opened it.  “One minute,” she called out.

Composed, she finally opened the door.  Sam stood there, a bunch of roses in one hand, and a bundle of books in the other.  He stood there awkwardly for a moment before Sarah remembered her manners.  “Do come in, sorry.”  

Sam stepped into the living room and set the books down with some of the others.

“Oh, I will take those,”  Sarah said, taking the books and setting them upon her kitchen table.  “Now where did you get these?”  She asked, returning to Sam and taking the roses from him.

“You know me, just about everyone owes me something.”  He said as he smiled, moving in closer and wrapping his arms around her.   “You’re cold.  How about you let me make you a fire.”  He caught the look of fear that flashed across her face.  “I’ll tell you what.  I’ll stay right here all night if you let me build that fire.”

Sarah sighed, staring at the logs already piled within the fireplace, the crumpled paper underneath. 

“What about Evelyn?”  

“She’s spending the night at a friends,”  Sam replied.  

“Alright,” she acquiesced.

Sam reached into his pocket and withdrew a lighter which he used to start the paper, watching Sarah’s apprehensive face the entire time.  Once the flames had finally taken to the wood, Sam stepped away and sat in the corner of the green sofa that occupied the wall closest to the fire.  

“Do you always carry a lighter with you now?”  Sarah asked as she sat in her recliner and tok a sip of wine.

“Only when I come over here, I knew one of these days I’d get you to give in.  Is there more of that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, again.  Yes.  Let me get you a glass.”  She left the room and he heard the soft clink of glass against the stone countertop and shortly, she returned, holding out a cup of the red liquid.

Sam took it, and as Sarah returned to her seat he called her name, patting the sofa beside him.

Hollow World Book 4 Part 22

As Graham’s head lolled to the side, Peter spun, ready for an avenging attack from any and, more likely, every direction.  The attack didn’t come though.  All around him Others were dropping their weapons and shaking their heads, as if trying to wake from a deep sleep, their link to this world no longer holding the souls in place.

“What’s going on,”  The closest, an asian man who appeared to be in his late thirties asked.

Peter looked to Amy, who had just walked up to him and dropped his own blades.  “I don’t-“

“Sir,”  Amy began, addressing the man, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

The man thought for a moment, “I’m not sure, maybe explosions outside.  Where are we?” He asked, looking around.

Peter heard Darrel in the distance, barking orders and trying to organize a bucket brigade to put out the fires that Tartarus’ army had left in its wake.  “Boulder City.”

“How the hell did we get here?”  More people had gathered around the trio, listening in.  Said a tall blonde man, with blood smeared across his face.

“Are you ok sir?”  Amy said, turning her attention to the bloody man and ignoring the question.

“I think so,”  He said as Amy began to look him over.

“I’m a doctor sir, please hold still.”  Amy finished looking him over, determining that the blood was not his.  “Any one else need medical attention.  I know you are all confused, and I am certain, we can provide you with an explanation in time, but right now I need to do the best I can to help out the injured.  If you are not hurt, I need you to go with Peter here,”  Peter rose his hand, “And help put out the fires, especially if we all want places to sleep over the next few days.”

Three people remained with Amy, one, Anne, said she was a nurse and was willing to help wherever.  She helped Amy set a broken arm, using clothing torn from the dead to create a makeshift sling.  The other injury was a man who had somehow lost three fingers.  He had been one of the Others and had no idea how it had happened.  Anne grabbed some more cloth from another corpse while Amy stayed with the bleeding man.

“Sir-“

“Jackson,” The young dark-skinned man said.

“Ok.  Jackson, I have two options.  And I don’t like either of them out here.  So you need to listen to me, because what I do is going to depend on you.  We need to stop the bleeding.  Now, we can tie this,” she took the offered strips of fabric from Anne, “around your arm, and you risk losing your whole hand.  Or I can try to cauterize, but that’s going to hurt.”

“What, what’s that?” Jackson stuttered.  

“We’d have to burn the wounds.”  Anne said, taking Jackson’s other hand.

“Oh shit,”  Jackson said, looking at the stumps of his missing fingers.  “I, I don’t know.”

“How are you with pain?”  Amy asked.

“Uh, ok I guess.”

“Let’s try the fire, Anne, could you grab that torch for me?”

“What can we do,” Peter asked.

“You come with me, Everyone else, get in a line and help out where you can.”  Darrel said.  “Actually, you two,”  He pointed at two rather muscular men that had come with Peter, “About two blocks that way is a fire station, go and grab the hoses and some tools to open the fire hydrants.  Rush back.”

The two men ran off in the direction he had indicated.

“Where are we going?”  Peter asked.  

“We lost Jack.”

“Jack?”

“Mayor Clemens, his real name was Jack.  He was on the wall beside me…”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means, at least until we’re done with the cleanup I think, that I’m in charge.”

“That’s fine.”

“And I’m going to need someone to help me out.  At least until the election.”

“I don’t know, I mean we need to see who survived before you can pick.”

“I’ve already picked Peter.”

Realization dawned on Peter, and he nodded, “Sure.”

“Just keep helping the way you’ve been and you’ll do fine.  That was one hell of a fight back there.”

“Thanks, I think I got lucky.”  

“Luck?  Skill? you won it for us.” 

“What are we going to do about them,”  Peter said, nodding to the hundreds of people moving water around.

“Right now?  Put them to work.  As long as they are helping each other, they are not asking questions.  But you’re right.  We have to do something.  What do you think?”

“We’ve had nearly nine months to deal with this new world.  They’re just waking up to it.  What do we tell them?”

“The truth.”

Peter chuckled, and it felt good.  “Do you think they can handle the truth?  They were possessed or something.  Do we even know the truth?”

Darrell raised his eyebrows and let out a long sigh.  “Let’s get through this first.”

“Sure thing,”  Peter said, and then smiling, added “Boss.”

“Ok, they’ll need a place to live and…”

Peter half listened as Darrel put together a plan for the survivors, from both sides.  He mumbled or nodded when he felt Darrel’s gaze upon him, but his mind was elsewhere.  How far they had come in nearly nine months.  He remembered his initial encounter with the man that had become his nightmare, the night they had lost Sam.  How inviting the building in Wichita Falls had been, the time spent with Zach’s family.  The arrival at Boulder City. The first night he had spent with Amy.  All of it leading to him standing here, becoming the assistant, what?  Mayor?  

“Hey, you ok?”  Darrel asked, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.  It’s been a long couple of days.”

“Tell me about it.  I need you to start spreading the news about the assembly tomorrow.  I want everyone there.  I’m going to find Sam and see if I can borrow the car.”  Darrel laughed.  “I feel like a teenager…”

Peter smiled, it had been a long nine months.  And he had an even longer nine months before him. 

Hollow World Book 4 Part 21

Tartarus-Graham grabbed his fallen soldier’s smoldering torch from the ground, and waved it back and forth before him, the flames springing back to life.  He turned to Charon and growled.  He noted the woman beside his nephew, advancing a step toward her before Peter pulled the machete from his back and stepped into the clearing.  He snarled at the advancing human.  “You dare challenge a God?”

“If that’s what it takes to end this,”  Peter said, stepping further into the clearing, trying to ignore the pain in his chest.  “Although you were always just a nightmare to me, and now that I see you standing there, you really are not that scary.”

Tartarus cackled, and the torch before him flared, the flames dancing before him despite the lack of wind.  He stood his ground, waiting for Peter to make his way to him.  Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, Tartarus swung the torch a few times, loosening his stiff shoulders.  It had been a long time since he himself had been in a fight, and his bodies limbs cracked under the unusual movement.  As Peter drew near, he extended the torch like a blade, making small darting motions, testing the man’s defense.

Peter closed warily, jerking backward at each thrust of the flame laden stick.  Finally within range, he batted at the torch with the flat of his blade, pushing it away from his chest, the searing flames threatening to scorch his exposed skin.

Tartarus laughed again, and thrust again, getting passed Peter’s blade, the flaming wood touch his left arm.

Peter cursed and pulled his arm back, casting a glance down at the blisters that had already formed.  The slight distraction nearly cost him, as Tartarus thrust again with the torch, but Peter managed to dance backwards, twisting his body to intercede with his blade.  He winced as he did so and his foe smiled.

“We can do this later if you would rather,”  the man who was a God said.  “I will let you live and we can finish this fight when you are healed.”

“No thanks,” Peter said and rushed forward, beating aside the torch with his bare left arm only to have his machete stopped by the flak armor that Tartarus that was Graham wore.  Peter took a step backwards to avoid the thrust that came in behind his own blade, the flames licking his chin.  He recovered and began to circle Tartarus, looking for an opening.  Their weapons smacked against each other once, and then again, before Peter slashed out wildly, drawing a crimson line down the left arm of his opponent.  “First blood, do you yield?”  Peter asked despite knowing the answer.

Tartarus spat at him, the globule landing upon the ground as Peter hopped back a step, smiling. 

Tartarus rushed forward, the torch dancing furiously before him forcing Peter to retreat.  The circle of watchers, who remained silent, shifted around them, leaving them space to continue their fight.  Finally Peter managed to beat the torch out wide with a slice that stopped Tartarus’ forward momentum although it did not cause any permanent damage.

“How long can you keep this up?”  Tartarus asked, taunting Peter.

Breathing heavily, and painfully, Peter stood up straight and growled, “As long as it takes.”  He rushed forward, tapping his blade against the torch three times, each hit sending it out wider, before he shifted his footing, stepping to the right and bringing him in line with Tartarus’ left arm.  The blade bit deeply into the limb a few inches from the shoulder but it cost Peter.  As Tartarus backed away, growling in pain, he took the blade with him, despite his best effort, Peter could not tug it free from the bone.  Peter followed the retreating God, trying to grab the machete’s handle but failed.  

Finally, Tartarus’ eyes flashed, and Peter saw the flames burning within them that had so haunted his nightmares.  He began to back away as the God advanced, wildly swinging the torch like a club.  With each jump, Peter winced, the jerking of his body shooting pain throughout his chest from his broken ribs.

“Peter,”  Through the pain, he heard Amy’s voice and he started to shift his position so he was close to her.  He wanted to turn and run, but knew that he was the only thing that was keeping this mad man from destroying the rest of his friends, from killing Amy, and his child.  “Here,” he heard her call, and through the sweat that coated his brow and ran down into his eyes, he saw Amy’s blade fly before him.  He reached out and managed to grab it’s long handle bringing it close to him and in line with the next of Tartarus’s thrusts.  He stopped his retreat, gasping for air as he was, and swung the blade in a tight figure eight, judging it’s balance as he blocked the next thrust of the torch.

Peter began to circle again, keeping his foe’s useless left arm between them.  He hacked at it a couple of times, scoring small slashes, but they did not bleed.  He tried a feint, his blade darting in, and Tartarus swatted at his blade furiously.  Peter stepped in behind the unwieldy parry and grabbed ahold of the machete still lodged in Tartarus’ shoulder.  The God snorted in rage as Peter planted a foot on his chest and kicked with all of the force he could muster, sending them to fall on their backsides in opposite directions, the blade finally slid free from the bone.  

Peter recovered quicker, and was upon Tartarus before the God had even managed to stand up.  Tartarus swung the torch at Peter slowly, the blood loss finally beginning to take it’s toll.  Peter managed to stop the torch with Amy’s blade and used the recovered machete to split the wood in two and completely severing the Gods wrist.  

The flames within Graham’s eyes flickered for a minute as he tried to shift to one of his nearby Others, but something blocked him.  He managed to turn his head to peer at Charon and confirm his suspicions that Nyx was gone, before Peter’s blade bit deep into his neck, and the flames went out for good.

Hollow World Book 4 Part 20

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Thousands lay dead around him, within the walls, and without, of Boulder City.  He concentrated on the soldiers outside of the battles, dealing with the dead that had been left behind, tired of the distraction of being mistaken for a combatant.  He had multiple new bullet holes in his shirt, his skin having already healed over the bullets, and had been bludgeoned more than once, the weapons, including the aluminum baseball bat, breaking across his back.  He had ignored the attackers, simply walking away from the first, one, two, three, and appearing across the battlefield staring at the man clutching the splintered bat.  

He had long given up trying to get to the corpses in the order they had died, instead marching through the war zone and stooping when he came across one of his charges.  He was now within the borders of the southern wall, an ancient looking native American woman before him.  Tama, her name was, had died clutching her rifle, a smile upon her face.  He hated to open her mouth and destroy her serene look, but he did so, depositing the obol within.  A woman such as her deserved to make it across on his ferry.  He closed her eyes with his free hand and then moved to the next corpse.  And then to the next.  He was just about finished with the defenders when a new death caught his attention and he arose, pulling the obol away from the corpse he was attending to.  She would have to wait.

He grabbed his bag and walked toward the wall, disappearing as he would have made contact with it, reappearing in the center of a large open space, ringed by hundreds of men and women, from both sides of the struggle, and beside a small cluster of men.  He knelt over the fresh corpse, the bullet lodged firmly in it’s heart, the torch still burning on the ground beside him.  His job taken care of, the Pennyman rose and ignored the other torchbearers, instead focusing on one individual.

“Uncle,”  He could not help but taunt.

“Charon, this is not your fight.”  Graham said, never taking his eyes from the crowd before him.  

Charon followed Graham’s gaze and locked eyes with Peter, who nodded in recognition.  “You are right, it is his.”  He said as a shot rang out, dropping another of the torchbearers.  Charon smiled and made a show of placing the obol in this one’s mouth, before rising and asking “Who’s next?”

Graham glowered, “You are you impertinent fool,” and ordered the torchbearers to attack.

Despite managing to set the long jacket that he wore on fire, the Pennyman came away unscathed.  Two more of the torchbearers lay dead and administered to, shots from the crowd seeing to them.  The remaining six sat on the ground, shaking there heads, the souls that had inhabited them banished.  “You have tried my patience one time too many Tartarus.  Face your fate alone.”  Charon took a step back to where the edge of the crowd was, although it shifted from him as he did so, leaving a ten foot gap between him and all but one person.  A dark skinned woman stood next to him watching the confrontation.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Hollow World Book 4 Chapter 19

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.

“What’s up?”

“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.

Hollow World Book 4 Chapter 18

Peter dropped the three feet to the roof of the next building, trying to build a lead on the flames that chased them.  He turned to help Amy, but she was already beside him.

“Don’t stop,”  She said as she took the lead.  He followed her, looking for a fire escape that would allow them access to the ground three stories below.  Finally, two rooftops later, he saw the telltale metal handles that marked the top of a ladder.  

“There,” he said and pointed, Amy looked around and caught sight of it as well.  They angled toward the ladder and Peter put his head down, powering on despite the pain from his broken ribs.  They got to the edge of the building and looked below, thankful that no one seemed to be waiting on them.  Amy began her descent and was closely followed by Peter, who pulled her across the alleyway once they were on the ground.  They could here the clamor of the nearby fighting, but, except for the machete that Peter had managed to pick up and the one bullet that Amy had left in her pistol, they had no weapons.  

“This way,” Peter said, heading out of the alley in an effort to escape the large body of Others that was on the other side of the building they were on.  They doubled back the way they had come, hoping that the fighting had moved on and the noise died down as they went.  They followed the alley until it intersected with a street and Peter slowly approached it, waving for Amy to stay back.  Her gun ready, she did so.

The way was clear and they scurried across the street, looking for more cover to hide behind.  They found it in the form of a heavily manicured bush that the both managed to fit behind, crouching. 

“Peter, I think I saw some guns back there,”  She said, parting the bush enough for them to look at the devastation before them.  The street was littered with corpses, luckily more of the Others than his fellow defenders, but she did see a few faces she recognized.  “Why are they doing this?”  She asked, but Peter just shook his head.  He did not know either.

“Ok,” he said, “Wait here, I’m going to go get some more weapons.”  He scrambled out into the street, kicking through the corpses.  Crouching down, Peter picked up a bone handled revolver and checked it for ammo.  It was empty and he tossed it aside, reaching for a silver object that caught his attention as he did so.  It was another steel blade and he carefully slid it into his belt.  He found a shotgun next but this too was empty.  He was crouched over another man, checking to see if the pistol in his death grip held any bullets when Amy called out.

“Peter, behind you!”  Peter spun and overbalanced himself, falling to his side and avoiding the clubbing blow that had been aimed at his head.  He managed to break his fall with his left hand, and pulled the new blade with his right, rising to meet the threat before him.  A man wielding what might have been a table leg at one point, was advancing upon him again, the bludgeon raised to strike again.  Peter swung the blade and connected with his foe’s filthy shirt, but failing to draw blood.   Peter danced backward to avoid the next downward swing of the piece of wood and darted in behind it, sticking his opponent with the tip of the blade.  The man staggered backward and Peter swung again, this time low, and managed to catch the side of the man’s left leg, cleaving it all the way to the bone.  

The man fell, his leg no longer willing to support his weight, but kept coming, pulling his way along the corpses toward Peter.  Stepping backward, Peter avoided a clumsy swipe and followed it with a downward thrust of his own, catching the fallen man in his neck.  He left his opponent bleeding and went back to where Amy was.

“Peter, we need to help them,”  Amy said, and he nodded.

“I know, I just wish we had better weapons.”  He replied, wiping the new blade on the shirt of a nearby corpse and handing it to her. 

“Thanks,” she said, weighing the weapon in her hand.  “This’ll have to do, just keep an eye out for guns as we go.”

They set off, toward the noise of the fighting.  They fought their way over corpse after corpse as they walked and soon the corpses of the defenders were equal in numbers to those of Graham’s army, although they still did not manage to find any weapons of worth for the current struggle.  They turned a corner as a cheer went up ahead of them, and they both broke into a run, coming up behind the main body of the Others.

They managed to kill two before they were noticed, and two more after that, but soon they were each faced with multiple opponents.  And then the cheer went up again, distracting their foes.  They both took advantage of the opportunity, maiming or killing some of their opponents before breaking into a run, trying to push their way through the mass of humanity before them.  They both hacked and slashed, and soon their way was opening before them, as Others parted so the two could keep going further, closing ranks behind them, but not pursuing.  

Peter felt the flames first as he stumbled into a sudden opening in the crowd, Amy still right beside him.  “You ok?”  He asked her.

Gasping, she said “Yeah.  You?”

“Yeah.”  Peter said, spinning, blade out before him.  He made a full revolution without anyone, friend or foe, advancing upon him.  He stood up warily, trying to stretch out his neck as he did so, and then he heard the voice.

“I knew I would get to see you again if I just waited long enough.”  The man said.  He was no longer wearing Peter’s jersey, but Peter recognized the man from his nightmares.

Hollow World Book 4 Chapter 17

Zach kept pulling his trigger, despite the clicking sound it was making, as he tried to clear the Others from where they encroached upon the gate.  Sarah stood next to him, a pistol in either hand, firing into the crowd as well. 

Zach started to brandish his rifle like a club, keeping his foes at bay as more of his companions tried to push the gate back shut.  Inch by inch they pushed them outwards,  until they surged forward as their reinforcements joined them out beyond the wall.  He continued to swing, connecting with the head of a man in front of him who crumpled to the ground only to be replaced by another, who quickly turned his back on Zach.  He took advantage of whatever the distraction was and lifted the rifle overhead, bringing it down hard atop the man’s skull, sending a bone numbing reverberation up both of his arms.

Another man, also facing the wrong direction, stepped back toward Zach as Sarah pushed in front to get a clubbing blow of her own in, knocking him down.  Zach took a step backwards himself, pulling Sarah with him as the group of Others surged again, this time splitting down the center as a group of faintly glowing warriors, the lead, a man wearing a black leather jacket with a Gargoyle upon its back, pushed through.  The glowing men turned and continued to attack the Others, and after he realized what was happening, Zach and then his companions joined in.  

It was over.  Once the defenders had realized that they were not facing a larger foe, but instead had reinforcements of their own, they had rallied and managed to put down every last one of the attackers.  A few men were going through the bodies upon the battlefield and killing any of the Others they found alive, or carrying any of their fallen companions, alive or dead, to a spot within the walls.  They gave the Pennyman, who was slowly making his way to the wall, body by body, a wide berth.  

Zach heard the rumors, of the hundred and fifty men that had stood beside him upon the wall, only sixty remained alive.  One of them was calling for the survivors to rush to the aid of the southern wall, and Zach had to agree.  

He had joined the group collecting ammunition and weapons when he felt a hand upon his arm.

“You are one of the ones He has marked.”  Davey Boy said, the white light hurting Zach’s eyes.  “You, and her,” Davey Boy added, pointing to Sarah.

“Who?”

“The burning man, Graham, Tartarus.  He has many names, but he shall die only one death.”  Davey Boy said, brandishing a long curved blade, “And it will be at my hands,”  He added.

“Who are you guys,”  Sarah asked, walking up.  “I mean thanks.”  She smiled.

“You are welcome Sarah,” Said a man with blonde, almost white, hair down to his shoulders, who had just walked up beside them.

Davey Boy nodded and bowed his head before the new arrival.

“Be about it, I will answer their questions.”

“Yes sir,” Davey Boy said, and then nodded at both Zach and Sarah, before calling for his soldiers and rushing off to join the fighting elsewhere.

“You can call me Acmon,”  Said the blonde, “And they are my army, the Warriors of the Light.”

“I’m sorry, Acmon, I’m not sure I get it, why are you helping us?”  Zach asked.

“I like to think of it as more trying to stop my uncle from winning his war.”

“You’re uncle?”  Sarah asked.

“Yes, as Charon,”  He caught the quizzical look that Sarah shot him, “You may know him as The Pennyman, is my brother, Tartarus is my uncle.”

“Wait, I know that name,”  Zach said, racking his brain for where he had heard of Charon before.  

“The ferry across the river…”  He almost had it, it was on the tip of his tongue when Acmon completed the sentence for him.

“Acheron.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”  Sarah asked.

“Yes, as is the fighting,”  Acmon said, “And speaking of that, I have dallied here for too long.  I must move on, for my men need me, as do yours.”  Acmon said, and nodded to Zach before bowing to Sarah.

Once Acmon had moved on, Zach turned to Sarah, who was reloading her gun, “That was strange.”

“Yeah, but he’s right, we need to get up to the front lines and help out there.”

Zach slammed some new rounds into a shotgun he had picked up and grabbed a clip for his rifle.  Someone held out a full pistol which he took as well, tucking it into the waistband of his pants.  “You ready?”

Sarah nodded and slung a shotgun of her own over her left shoulder, falling into step beside Zach.  “Yep.”  

They ran through the city streets, the smell of burning buildings and the sound of screaming leading them to the fighting.  A small skirmish was occurring between Acmon’s Warriors of Light and the Others in the intersection of two two lane streets.  Sarah tapped Zach on the shoulder and pointed to a building that stood away from the flames and then pointed upward.  Zach nodded and led the way, pushing open a glass door, the bell ringing within.  They found a stairwell in the back that led up and eventually a ladder that led to the roof.  They took cover behind a large air conditioning unit and scoped out the scene below.  

“Shoot the soldiers in the back, that way we don’t hit our men.”  Zach whispered, creeping toward the roof’s edge.  

Below, Zach could pick out the three distinct factions, the Others, Acmon’s Warriors, and then his companions.  He took careful aim and pumped the shotgun, the shell slamming into the chest of an Other that managed to look up at him before toppling over backwards.  He shifted his aim slightly and fired again, dropping another Other.  Sarah was beside him her own gun raining death down upon their enemies.

He was peering along the barrel of his rifle when he caught sight of Sam down below, bleeding from a head wound, but wielding a pair of axes as he plowed through his own group of enemies.

Hollow World Book 4 Chapter 16

Graham had just received the report that the north wall had been breached when he pushed his way through the flickering flames of the forest.  The two tankers had been a surprise and had accounted for nearly seventy of his soldiers in their initial blasts but had managed to trap nearly two hundred more behind a wall of flame.  He had lost another forty as he had commanded them through.  He still had all ten of his torchbearers with him as he entered the field and watched as his troops began their push against the nearly two-story tall gate that barred his entrance into Boulder City.  Graham walked around the corpses of his fallen soldiers as they crossed the killing field, his opponents firing concentrated on the immediate threat that was trying to breach the wall.  He stood back and watched the wall shift beneath the press of bodies until finally the last volley of cannonballs flew overhead, smashing more sections of the wall apart, and drawing the defenders attention just long enough for the massive gate to shift a few inches inward.

The casualties so far had been immense, but he still had almost twenty five hundred soldiers on this front alone, and pretty soon the defenders would find themselves sandwiched by the force from the northern wall.  He felt the loss of a few more soldiers as they were killed when the remaining townspeople managed kill closest of his army and pull the gate shut again.  It was then that the pull of his soldiers deaths at the northern gate became overpowering.  He crouched amidst his torchbearers and shifted his focus, looking for an injured soldier lying in the street far removed from the battle.  He found one and managed to will the body to sit up.  He watched as the white limned army slammed into his troops again causing even more deaths.

“Tartarus, is that you?”  The Pennyman asked, from where he stooped over a nearby corpse.

Graham growled, trying to pick out details of who this new threat was attacking his soldiers..

“I’ll take that as a yes.  What do you think of my brothers handiwork?”  The Pennyman asked, taking a step closer and attending to the next body.

“Damn it, Nyx told me that Acmon had not brought his souls up here.”  He could hear the cheer that was sweeping the remaining band of ragged and worn out defenders who finally realized that the new enemy was in fact an ally.  “Who are they?”

“Just the broken ones you have left in your wake,” The Pennyman said, adding “But I must go, many more of your soldiers are dying.  I have a long night ahead of me.”  He continued on to the next corpse, ignoring the curses coming from the mouth of the body Tartarus now occupied.

Graham growled again and tried to pursue his closer nephew but the body he was in would not move.  It was only then that he looked down at the holes the machine gun had ripped through his legs.  He felt the final life force ebbing from the body and he left it, shifting back to his own body.  One of his torchbearers lay on the ground beside him bleeding from a chest wound, but his own body remained in tact.  “Forward.”  He said and they resumed their march.  He sent a call to his cannoneers, who should be preparing to join the fight in earnest, and requested that they push one of the cannons down as they came.

More of his men died as they fought to open the gate with little success until the cannon arrived.  The heavy metal cylinder was lifted off of its cart and turned into a battering ram, the hollow end making short work of the heavy wooden gate.  Once the hole had been punched through, larger chunks of wood were torn , costing Graham even more soldiers as the defenders shot through the new opening.

With nearly two thousand soldiers left, the gate finally crumbled and his men began to pour inside but for every three men that made it through, one more fell, but the defenders were also beginning to suffer there first real casualties of the fight.  He heard the word “Duck” yelled over the gunfire and watched as his foes jumped backwards and covered their eyes, blocking out the intense light from the explosive that went off in the midst of his own soldiers at the gate.  Another forty dead or mortally injured, he felt the first pangs of fear.  He had nothing else in reserve and he ordered his men to fight harder, and fight they did.  

He pressed forward and soon he and his torchbearers were through the gate, ringed by his remaining army.  Many of the defenders had fallen back to positions within or atop nearby buildings.  They decimated the small pocket of men and women who remained in the yard, ignoring their requests for surrender and mercy.

Graham addressed two of his torchbearers, sending them atop the wooden wall, and setting it on fire.  The dry wood caught quickly and soon the barricade of cars was crowned by a wall of flames.  Waiting for the two men to rejoin his personal entourage, he tried again to shift back to the northern border but could not find a live soul anywhere.  Cursing again, he called for his men to pick up burning pieces of the wall and beginning the burning of the city.  They thrust the burning timbers into the windows of the buildings, driving their opponents deeper into the city, their flight punctuated by the screams of men and women burning alive, or jumping from roofs in an effort to save themselves.

Graham came across the writhing form of one such man, clutching at a leg that was bent at an awkward angle halfway down the femur and smiled.  

“Please!  Help me.” The unfortunate man said.

“Certainly,”  Smiled Graham as he leaned forward and clasped the man’s head, wrenching it hard to the left and breaking his neck.  “Enjoy the afterlife.”  Graham said over his shoulder as he marched on.

Hollow World Book 4 Chapter 15

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Clink. Clink. Clink.

He smiled as he knelt over the bodies of the fallen Others, placing obols in their mouths and rewarding them with a trip back to their home of the past few millennia.  The Pennyman walked from corpse to corpse within the streets north of Boulder City, where nearly thirty minutes before, the army had marched, their numbers slowly being whittled away by the defenders hidden upon rooftops or within storefronts.  He could hear the fighting up ahead and knew that he was moving close to the location of the conflict.  He grabbed his bag and moved to the next body, and dropped the obol into place when he was hit with a stray bullet.  The bullet tore into his chest and lodged itself against another shell, there from an earlier altercation.  He decided to move to the other side of the conflict and upon closing the mouth of his current ward, he stepped away from her, and into the field behind the wall.

The first man he went to had four different gunshot wounds in his torso and had continued to fire the machine gun until his body finally gave up.  He now lay peacefully upon the lawn of a small business, his eyes closed and his hands clasped upon his chest.  The Pennyman placed an obol into this mans mouth and then moved onto the next man, the second man to have tried to man the machine gun.  Another soul, another obol.  He could feel that he was being watched, but when he glanced around to confirm it, he could find no living eyes upon him, only the blank stares of the dead.  

He felt the ground shake as Graham’s army crashed against the gate, and he watched as it began to creep open.  He decided that again, he belonged on the other side of the battlefield and finished with the female he was charged with before standing.  One step, two steps, three, and he was watching the backs of the Others as they pushed through the gate.  He felt each death, and knew that here, as well as upon the killing field, a lot of work was left for him to do, but a noise behind him drew his attention there.

A large force of soldiers was charging down the street toward his position.  He could not make out details, for each soldier was limned in a white light, obscuring the features of those around him.  The Pennyman took a step back and watched as the men charged by, carrying large blades that looked as if they had once been farm tools.

It was when the new force had slammed into the back of the Others that the he realized he was no longer alone.

“So, Charon,”  Acmon said, a broad smile upon his face.  “I brought my souls back after all.”

“I see that,” the Pennyman said as he stooped to drop a coin into the open, waiting mouth of a dead man.  “And it appears not a moment too soon.”

Clink. Clink. Clink.

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Hollow World Book 4 Chapter 14

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Sam fired shot after shot into the advancing army of Others, but it seemed to make no difference.  For every one that fell, two seemed to come out of the woods to replace them.  Sam tried not to think of the gaping hole in the wall beside him, where until a few moments before, a tall and spindly African American man had sat, firing into the crowd with him, Tama waiting behind him.  That was before something had exploded into the wooden wall, what, Sam had not had time to check.  His left arm was bleeding, bad enough that he thought he needed stitches, but getting sewn up would do him no good if there was no place left in the morning.

“More ammo,”  He called out as the nearby machine gun stopped shooting to reload itself.  He handed the weapon back to his backup and got a replacement and was firing moments before the machine gun started again.  The first explosion of the fuel tankers occurred about then, and a small cheer went up amongst his wall mates as they watched a mass of the attackers destroyed by the blast.  The second tanker was not so lucky, at least from his vantage point, but it did succeed in lighting the woods the enemy was coming out of on fire.  

Face aglow from the spreading flames, Sam took more shots at the Others as they got closer and closer to the wall.  The machine gun stopped firing again long enough for him to hear a whistling sound, following by a loud thwack that shook the section of wall he stood upon.  Once he had regained his balance, Sam looked over the wall and saw a cannonball lodged into the grill of the upturned car below him.  “That was close,” He shouted and looked back over his shoulder, the man behind him smiled. 

“They’re filled with concr-“  The machine gun burst to life again, drowning out the last of what the man had said.  

It was then that the wall on the other side of him exploded, leaving his piece of wooden wall stranded atop the cars, no longer attached to anything. Sam had no time to think as his section of walkway began to topple forward, the wooden wall proving too heavy to balance it without extra support.

“Here!” The man behind him shouted and threw an extra rifle toward Sam.  Somehow he caught it as he tumbled down the outside of the wall and into the waiting arms of a pair of Others who had made it across the killing field relatively unharmed.  He managed to scramble on to his back as they fell upon him.

He thought of Evelyn as he lashed out at them, wondering how she was doing at the cabin all of the children had been taken to.  He was proud of her, in the little time that he had known her, she had saved his life once and, since finding Tama, really started to come out of her shell. 

Tama, he remembered looking back after the first cannonball had ripped through the wall and panicking briefly when he had not seen her, but he had forced the emotion away and returned to the fight.  That panic took ahold of him as he lay there struggling with a pair of Others who were trying to pummel him with the butt of a pistol and their fists.  He brought both hands up in front of his face to try to block their rain of blows when one of their heads exploded.  This proved the needed distraction for him to shove the other ones nose up into its brain and push it off of him.  He had no time to revel in the small victory, as he came out of the tangle of limbs, another man was upon him, but he managed to get a shot from his shotgun off, which at such short range, tore apart his foes kneecap.  Sam risked a glance back at the wall and smiled as he saw his backup laying there, a gun of his own firing at the advancing enemy soldiers.

“Hang on, I’ve got a rope coming,”  The man shouted and Sam swore he would learn the man’s name if he survived.  

“What other choice do I have,”  Sam yelled back, turning his attention back in time to be pistol whipped across his right cheek.  Growling, he swung his shotgun like a baseball bat, connecting with the stomach of the woman who had just assaulted him.  She kept coming though, despite the audible rush of air from her lungs.  He tried to recover the shotgun into some position in which he could fire from but she was too close.  She swung again with the pistol and connected with his temple.  His world started to look fuzzy and he swung the shotgun again, blindly.  He felt it connect and then the weight of the woman was no longer upon him.  He shook his head again, trying to clear the cobwebs, and closed his eyes for a second to try and stop the stars from spinning.  When he opened them again, two more Others, a hispanic man and a tall leggy blonde woman were bearing down upon him with three more close behind them.  He fired the shotgun and one of them, the man, spun away.  He had long enough to pull a knife out of it’s sheath on his hip before the woman was on top of him.  Under drastically different circumstances, he thought for a split second before she dug an elbow into his ribcage.  He slashed at her, slicing open the once white dress she wore and scoring a superficial cut along her midsection.  She snapped her head down, connecting with his temple as he felt the press of more bodies upon him.  The sound of gunfire continued, although it sounded much nearer now, as he blacked out.

He awoke with a start a few seconds later as he felt himself being lifted up.  

“Damn it, I didn’t come down here just to pick up a corpse, did I?”  His backup asked as he wrapped both of his arms around Sam’s torso.

“No sir,”  Sam said, smiling weekly.  

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Hollow World Book 4 Chapter 13

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“What the hell is that?”  Peter said as a large metal ball landed with a thud fifteen feet in front of him and skidded, churning up earth.

The man beside him, Peter thought his name was Thomas, responded “Looks like a cannonball.”

Another one sailed over head, landing in the field behind them.  Peter watched the killing field, but the foe had yet to make an appearance, despite the sound they made crashing through the underbrush.  

“Where the hell’d they get cannons,” Peter asked.

“I don’t know,” Said the man who might be Thomas, not realizing the question was rhetorical.  

The first Other broke the tree line, and made it about twenty feet before being knocked backwards from the impact of three separate shotgun blasts.  Finally, more and more of the Others broke the tree line and they began to drop from the gun fire.

Peter looked to Darrel, who, arm still in a sling, was commanding from a post atop a nearby tower, five cars high.  He stood, with his arm raised, waiting to give the signal to detonate the first of the fuel trucks.  The machine gun upon the tower opened fire, the muzzle flash backlighting Darrel. 

Peter turned his attention back to the field before him and pulled the trigger on his gun.  He was not sure if he was hitting anything, but their foe was falling in great numbers and had yet to return a single shot.  Weapon empty, he handed it back to Amy and winked.  She managed a weak smile as she handed him a fresh gun and began reloading the rifle he had been using.  The large open space allowed for many targets to present themselves simultaneously and Peter took advantage, not watching for his target to fall before shifting to the next.  More and more of the enemy soldiers poured onto the battlefield, many of them dying, others using their fallen companions as shields to make it even farther before they too fell.  The battle had been raging in earnest for nearly twenty minutes, with not a single shot fired from the Others, when Peter heard the high pitched whistling of a second volley of cannon fire coming towards them.  He took his eyes off of the field, looking to the sky but could not find the incoming missiles against the dark night sky.  He felt the impact of the one that landed before him, even closer than the last but still not close enough to make contact with the wall.  Somewhere down the wall was not so lucky as he heard a scream and felt wood shards fly past his face as the wall no more than twenty feet to his right exploded underneath the impact of the cannonball.  Peter reached up and pulled a large shard of wood from his face, wincing as he did so.  Blood trickling down his cheek, Peter resumed firing and finally he heard the shrill cry of ‘Now’ from Darrel.  

He glanced at the man to make sure he had not misheard, and saw that the man’s arm had dropped, and Peter, along with half a dozen other shooters, took aim upon the farther of the two fuel tankers.  Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted off of the trailer’s metal carapace until finally one bullet pierced its outer skin and then the sparks ignited the whole thing.  He felt the heat from the giant fireball that seemed to encompass nearly fifty men, who joined many of their companions lying upon the field when the fire died down.

It was seconds later that the other tanker exploded, killing a few of the nearby Others, but having not nearly the impact the first explosion had.  

Peter felt something tugging at his sleeve and looked back to where Amy was.  She leaned in close and shouted, hoping to be heard over the gunfire around her.  “We need to move, before those cannons fire again.  The next one will hit the wall for sure.”

Peter nodded and then pointed at Darrel.  “Tell him,”  He shouted and watched as she ran off, handing the weapon she had been reloading to the man behind her.  Peter regretted knowing so few names and promised himself that he would do his best to learn them all should he survive this fight.  He took a few more shots before he noticed a glow coming through the trees.  He sighted down the scope of the rifle he held and pulled the trigger, trying to take out one of the men carrying huge torches that were bringing up the rear of the advance, but the weapon clicked, the magazine empty.  He handed it back and stole a glance toward the tower, where he could make the shape of Amy out talking to Darrel, who appeared to be nodding, at least from this distance.  

Peter took the fresh weapon he was handed and stood back up, looking over the wall.  He saw the torchbearers but decided that the closer Others required his immediate attention.  Three more of them had dropped before he felt the tug on his sleeve again.  It was Amy and she was motioning for him to move.  He nodded, and slinging the gun over his shoulder, grabbed the men on either side of his position and pulled them back with him.  They had barely made it to the bottom of the ladder when Peter heard the telltale whistling of cannonballs flying through the air.  He ran for it, pushing Amy before him and was knocked onto his chest as the wood platform where he had been standing burst apart behind him.  Spitting out a mouth full of dirt, Peter recovered his footing, his broken ribs causing him extreme pain, and then helped Amy to her feet.  “You ok?”  He mouthed and she nodded back at him.

Breathing labored, he rushed back to the wall as fast as he could and climbed what remained of the ladder, using the bodies of the cars to help him along his way.  Finally he made it to the top and lay down, taking aim into the killing field, which seemed to be full of Others, getting ever closer to the city gate.

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Hollow World Book 4 Chapter 12

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Zach sat beside Sarah along the wall in between a Sherwin Williams paint shop and what used to be an old Blockbuster video, the yellow and blue shelving still inside despite the fact that it had gone out of business long before any of this started.  They had drawn lots along the northern wall and had traded with people to get spots next to each other.  Zach stood up and peeked over the wall, and could see the army advancing through the streets, but still too far away for them to accurately shoot at.

“How close are they?”  Sarah asked as more shots rang out.  She was glad that she had not been asked to be part of the team that was moving from building to building and making the advance of the enemy difficult.

“Pretty soon…”  Zach said, checking his gun for perhaps the twentieth time since he had mounted the wall.  “You ready,” he asked, trying to portray some semblance of confidence.  

“Everyone ready!”  Someone down the line shouted and all at once the wall burst into a frenzy of motion as everyone stood up and took aim with whatever weapon they had been handed.  

Zach peered around at the men and women he was serving with, many of whom he expected would die tonight defending his new found freedom.  He was not sure who fired the first shot, or even if the order to fire had been given, but the sound was deafening.  Zach pulled the trigger on his rifle and watched as one of the Others fell, whether it was to his own bullet though he was unsure.  Standing atop the wall, he finally had a full view of the force that was advancing toward him.  One hundred and fifty soldiers were all that manned the northern stretch, and it had been a fight to get that many.  They were faced with, at Zach’s best guess, nearly a thousand troops.  Granted they were taking them out while suffering very few casualties, but he figured that would change rather quickly if they started firing back. 

The machine gun that was mounted to his right was firing almost non stop, the gunner trying with varying success to sweep the weapon back and forth and take out entire rows of the enemy.  Large pockets of Others died until finally a lucky bullet, one of the few that they were firing back, found the man operating the machine gun.  Someone stepped into his place but was shot before he even had a chance to fire.  

Next to him, Sarah handed her empty gun to the man was ready to replace her should she fall.  “It’s empty,”  She mouthed, hoping he understood.  The man nodded and handed her his own pistol and set about reloading the weapon he had just been handed.  Soon Zach felt the click that told him his weapon too was empty and he switched with the man behind him.  

He popped back up and began firing again,only to have to duck back down as the man beside him slumped, a bullet lodged in his chest.  A pair of men pulled the wounded, maybe dead, Zach did not have time to check, from the wall and then he was replaced, the hole filled and shells once again flying.  While he was under the lip of the wall, Zach looked out on the street that they were defending, upon the row upon row of bodies that were beginning to pile up.  Some of them were still breathing, but many of them were not.

He thought he saw movement amongst them when he felt a tap on his shoulder.  He shook his head to clear it and looked at Sarah.  

“They’re about here,” she mouthed.  

He nodded and stood back up, managing to down two more before they were pressing against the wall.  He pointed the weapon nearly straight down and started firing, but the cars that composed the wall successfully hid them from his view.  “Damn it,” he said, and was surprised that he could hear himself, although a bit muffled by the ringing in his ears.  Nearly everyone had stopped firing once the Others had made it to the wall.

“Grab my legs,”  Sarah said as she leaned out far over the edge of the wall.  Finally, she waved her hands frantically and he pulled her back in.  “There’s still a lot of ‘em down there.”  She said.

“I know.”

“Zach, I think we’re in trouble.”  She said as the whole wall began to rock, the press of the Other’s bodies against it finally beginning to take its toll.

“Yeah,”  He said, not knowing what else to say.

“Well, thanks for helping me get this far,”  She kissed his cheek and hopped down to where the rest of the defenders were gathering with their weapons.

The wall shook again as Zach stood up and he lost his footing, fell to a knee.  He stood up and gave one last glance over the wall before he hopped down and his heart sagged.  

He took the ladder to the ground two rungs at a time.  “They have reinforcements,”  He heard himself saying.  “There’s more, and they’re carrying torches.”

He was not sure if his message made it to everyone, but by the panicked look in the few people near him, he knew someone had heard him.  That was all he had time for as the wooden walkway atop the cars buckled and cracked, the frame for the gate with it.  The large door shifted a few inches and hands were seen clawing through the small gap.  One man strode forward with a machete and started hacking at the limbs and he was trampled as the door finally exploded inward, the rush of Others rushing silently toward them.  Zach and his companions opened fire but it was mere moments before the enemy was upon him and he had to resort to using his rifle as a club.  He tried to keep track of Sarah, but as more and more Others pressed through the opening, he lost sight of her.

He called her name as he smashed the butt of his rifle into the face of a man trying to push through him and if she responded, he did not hear it.

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Hollow World Book 4 Chapter 11

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His army totaled nearly thirty five hundred soldiers as they broke camp and formed up ranks.  As the full moon broke the horizon in the distant east, Graham checked in with Nyx one last time.  “Dear, it is time for us to march off to war, would you care to join us?”

Still sitting amongst the bar below The Mandalay Bay, Nyx took a sip directly from a bottle of white wine.  “And ruin this dress?”  She said, indicating the black sleeveless number she wore.  “No dear Tartarus, this war and all of it’s glory is for you.  I await your triumphant message here and will send cases of wine in celebration.”

“I would rather have you by my side in this,” Graham said, smiling but knowing that if Nyx did not intend to get involved in the fighting, no amount of sweet talking from him would change it.  “Very well then, you shall hear of my success once all of my opponents are crushed underfoot.”

“I shall be waiting,” She said with a smile of her own.

He returned to his army and ordered them to begin their descent down the mountain.  His chariot led the way, the driver using the brakes liberally to keep from running over the horses.  The top down, Graham sat astride the back seat, watching as the sun set over the distant hills.  They snaked their way along the road, the drumming of his soldier’s feet echoing against the mountainside.  The carts the cannons were mounted on came down last, the wheels creaking and the soldiers controlling them silently correcting the course with each minor bump.  The bed of a pickup truck had been turned into a large cart and contained every cannonball and component necessary for the weapons to fire.  

He had his driver pull off of the road at the bottom of the steep incline and gathered his army before him for one last time.  Soundlessly, he spoke to each one within their heads.  “This night has been a long time in coming and now it is up to you.  We have fought before.  We have burned cities before.  And by morning, I want Boulder City to rival the sun in its brightness.  I want this city to burn to the ground.  We will take no prisoners and show no mercy.  I shall rise again and you will be at my right hand.   I will remake this world in the image of Tartarus below.  And you will be my subjects, the chosen soldiers.  Now go forth.”  As he spoke his ten remaining torchbearers joined him before the army, five per side of the vehicle.  

The army surged forward like the tide, heading for the killing field.  They ran through the trees and he felt a few pass away, tripping and trampled underfoot by the advancing army behind them.

He took his attention and shifted to the army on the northern side of town.  They had undoubtedly been seen by now and no longer had the element of surprise and were a much smaller force at only about nine hundred soldiers, but it should split the defenders enough that the fighting would be over quickly.  They were moving at a quick clip down a steep slope of their own and would likely come into direct conflict only shortly after his main force engaged.  

He shifted back as the last of his foot soldiers were leaving the clearing before him.  He watched as the cannoneers began to set up their mounted weapons and the preparations for firing were made.  He waited until the first volley had been launched before giving explicit instructions to abandon the cannons once the last shot was fired.  Satisfied that the war was finally here, Graham looked to his torchbearers and then his driver, and with a smile upon his face, he said “Let’s go.”

As his chariot rolled forward along the road, he listened to the whistle of the cannonballs, none of which seemed to impact with anything that made a satisfying crack or thud.  Gunfire raged ahead, whether from the defenders or his soldiers, he was not close enough to tell.  

Muzzle flare flashed through the trees and the driver fought with the horses until finally they would not move forward anymore.  “No matter,” Graham told him, “I can not take them into battle.”  He dismounted, and checked on the northern front one last time.  His army was marching through the streets of the city, toward the gated wall between that blocked off the empty portion of the city.  Potshots were being taken at them from roofs and within the buildings but, when Others were sent to investigate, they either came back empty handed or did not come back at all.  By the time the north gate was in sight,, they had lost nearly one hundred men to the defenders without counting for a single kill of their own.  Graham ordered the charge and watched as machine gun fire broke out from multiple places upon the wall.  What few rounds of ammo this detachment did possess were spent trying to eliminate these weapons, or at least to suppress their fire.  He felt every death and watched from his position at the back of his army as they left their bodies and blood across the field.  Continuing to hang back, he watched as the first of his men reached the gates mounted between the buildings, and then their were more, plenty more, pushing against the portals.  Nearly five hundred troops still remained to the north when he left them with a final command, to meet him in the center of the city.

Graham returned to his own body and circled by his torchbearers, Graham strode forward, determined to breach the walled city before him.  The second volley from the cannons soared overhead, and although he could no longer hear their flight, he could hear the resounding explosion of wood as one of them connecting with something, hopefully the walkway atop the wall.  He continued to press forward when the ground shook beneath him, as two explosions rocked the battlefield ahead.  He had expected heavy casualties, and so far, the humans were delivering.  

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