Arc 3 - Chapter 40: Train Holdout IV

Pacifica pushed Chris away, as another javelin sprouted toward her.

Using the tips of her toes once again, the good thing about Vivy was that she was already broken and battered. If they could ambush her, they would. But it was clear that Vivy was summoning javelins like she was giving out hotcakes.

‘Damn spammer! I oughta just take care of her myself!’

Throwing them at trajected angles, it was so that the tips of them struck the dirt. And once it was plunged, the combined energy would be enough to disperse the bleach. Having enough strength to leap away, to avoid the stinging liquid, she allowed the thoughts to travel.

‘Hmm… if they really don’t want us to head to that van…’

“Chris! Make a run for it!”

“Got it!”

“Oh no you don’t!”

Running like some crab, she did it sideways and then thrusted back her right arm. Just as she did that, Pacifica already zipped through the air like a bullet. Thrusted back arms, narrowed eyes, she had bent her back forward.

‘Oh…’

She threw the javelin, but her aim was somewhat off. Trying so hard to throw it at Chris, it was … way off.

Striking the ground, and landing on a random patch of dirt, Pacifica sprang out her right hand. Balling it into a fist, she threw the first punch, her elbows enacting like trampoline springs.

In a repeated motion, Pacifica threw a barrage of punches. Purple swelling her skin, the bruises worsened with each knuckle to Vivy’s cheek. Unable to fall or leap, her unbuckled bones were loose like jello. So much energy, so much force in such unbridled knuckles—

“Order up!”

Thrusting her right fist out, it was launched straight into her stomach. Being the last punch she hit her with, it sent her to walk back with stumbling feet, before collapsing.

Blood flowed from her noise. Swelling growing on her cheeks, she groaned through opened lips. For such a pathetic sight for her eyes, she turned away, and walked toward Chris.

“You okay Chris?”

Chris reached the van’s door. Seeing that she was okay, her knuckles were swelled in a mixture of red and purple.

“I’m fine. But we should probably get going.”

“Start up that van. We got to bounce.”

As she jogged toward the van, she ran around the hood and made her way toward the passenger. With Chris closing the door, he grabbed the key, which was within the glove compartment. Pushing it in, he started the ignition, and roared the engines back to life.

Having his hands on the wheel… All he had to do was wait.

‘Just hope the others arrive soon.’

Meanwhile…

The barrel to his Thompson ran with each bullet. Feeling his bones quake, feeling them shift within his insides, he had his clones do most of the moving. And so did him.

Creating a game of whack a mole, the hammer was imaginary. Trying so hard to blind him, to curse him, all she did was curse his clones.

“You two are pests!”

“Then that means our job is working!”

Feeling some of her jacket be grazed against, both types of lead whistled near. Grounding her teeth, she tiptoed, while her discombobulated state from earlier was nowhere to be seen. Straining her eyes, corroding her cheeks, her sagged skin rumpled her chin and neck.

While moving her eyes toward Hope.

“Guess you really want it!”

Aiming her palms at Hope, she eyed the blonde-haired woman with so much venom. But upon taking aim, Hope—

“Missed!”

Shutting her eyes, she jumped back, and kept her barrel straightened out. Moving her finger away from the trigger, she resorted to hearing, her instincts yelling at her to side-step. Even though she wasn’t good at it, she tried…

She felt the air whistle. Opening her eyes, she couldn’t take the black slate of what’s—

True darkness swallowed her pupils.

“Damnit!”

Yet with perked ears, Hope took in the sound of gunshots. Crumbling to the floor, she didn’t feel anything, but it strained her temples. So much happened, and in such a short amount of time, she snuggled her arms onto her stomach and chest.

“Leave her alone!”

Narrowly avoiding a barrage of Thompson bullets, Betty felt a dribble of sweat run down her temple. But with a quick sway of her head, she zig-zagged, and didn’t take heed to the clones that surrounded her.

Barreling toward that single man, that single original form, Sean took cover behind one of his clones. And with another clone beside him, he swapped that back and forth.

Dashing past them, she thrust both of her palms forward. She didn’t have them open. With eyes that were all too enlarged with strain, she launched them like pistol rounds, and had them land straight into his chest.

“Gah!”

Being sent a couple feet back, he landed on his back, as his lungs did a factory reset. For a split second, not a single ounce of oxygen swept his lips. But with slow stroked breaths, slow and steadily, he allowed the air to once again caress his vocals.

Resting on the right side of his body, he coughed, as saliva swept down his lip.

“You think I’d fall for your tricks?”

Before he could even move the barrel, she kicked the gun out of his hands. Falling and landing several feet away, she then pulled back her foot.

Kicking his stomach, another plough of air escaped through his body. Wheezing it out, straining it out, he then curdled himself like some armadillo. Seeing that he didn’t attack, she bent down with a bulging vein on her forehead.

“You couldn’t even rob us of our wealth.”

Grabbing the top of his hair, she dragged him through the ground like he was baggage. Uncaring for what his body was in, she narrowed her eyes forward, and carried on with her walk.

“Just hope you have enough energy to—”

—A sniper shot rang.—

Standing on the side of the mountain of charcoal, was a sniper with red hair. His eye brazing into the scope, gunsmoke plowed from the barrel. Cocking his head to the right, his target was none other than…

“You ain’t getting him like that.”

Betty coughed, as she immediately let go of Sean’s hair. Leaving him to sprawl on the ground, she thrusted her knees to the ground. Denting the dirt, she coughed, as one of her hands was pressed on her shoulder.

Blood riveting down that wound, that gunshot she was inflicted with, she looked up at Jack. Before he could lower his barrel…

Another sniper shot rang.

The air booming in totality yet again, Jack’s feet loosened on the mountain of charcoal. Making him fall, he clutched his rifle, even when the side of his shoulder felt cold. Feeling the swelling of something warm, something full of liquid…

“Turns out I just won.”

Rising from the roof, the Zirardge sniper had her barrel emit smoke. Looking like she got a lucky shot, she raised her right lip up to the bottom of her ear. Before she could rise fully up…

Two bullets rang.

One bullet zipped across her shoulder, but it didn’t strike. But as for the other bullet, the air in her lungs escaped from her mouth. Her legs turning into literal jelly, she allowed her own body weight to crumble from a high place.

Crashing onto the ground, she landed similar to how Jack did. The culprit, a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, lowered her pistol.

“Sean! Jack!”

Reaching toward Jack first, he was a dozen meters away from her. Having her pistol within her right hand, she balled her left with so much force. Once she knelt down, she began to heal Jack right away.

________________________________________________________________________

Switching to another fight.

It wasn’t really a huge fight, but rather a holdout that was determined on two fates. Two paths. The three of them, Benn, Christian, and Johnny, had no choice but to use their eyes as scanners. And with rattling bones, numbing muscles, they let the barrel burn red as long as they could.

As a barrage of zompires ran down those green hills.

‘How the hell did they even get them!? Did they capture some?! Breed with them!? If they did, it would’ve been known fast if they could mate, so why are they here!?’

Benn strained his eyes, as the thoughts strangled his brain folds. The more he thought, the longer his pupils and irises worsened. But the more he fired, the more he gunned down those running zompires, his grip on his gun worsened.

‘This family… their power… how did they…’

He saw their tar, that liquid that housed themselves with blood.

Each strike with the bullet, more of that sultry substance escaped from their bodies. No breath to be taken, no existence of life within those faces… he took in those ghostly features. Empty eyesockets, empty nostrils; those characteristics screamed at him.

But instead of fear, instead of paling his skin and his face, he growled with a trembling throat.

‘Why the fuck are they using zompire pouncers!?’

Right as he thought that, one of the zompires had leaped from the right. But with such quick motion, he turned his body, and shot the undead right through the heart.

Ignoring the zompire that withered, like how a glitchy computer would, he continued his onslaught. As for Johnny, his face grew pale, as both he and Christian fought with numbing arms.

“I thought Ticia had these sons of bitches!”

“I thought so too! But ever since the Attack on Lagefor, nothing really scares me now.”

For a man who rarely trained himself to be a soldier, Johnny was surprisingly good with his gun. For a multitude of zompires, it looked like it was only a large battalion.

Killing half of the mob already, Johnny heard an empty click ring his ears. Noticing that no bullets blazed through the barrel, he quickly began to reload. With Christian being the only one on guard to defend him, he was rather slow when dealing with them.

Considering that it was his first time.

“Shit, they’re too fast for—”

He turned to his right, and noticed…

Upon instinct, he raised his Thompson as some sort of barrier. Pinning him to the ground, was a zompire that reeked of rotting flesh. Smelling its abhorrent breath, and its teeth several inches from his face, Christian immediately paled his face.

“S-Shit! Get it off me!”

Kicking his feet forward, adrenaline filled both of his arms and shoulders. Upchucking air like crazy, a lot of it huffed from his nostrils, as his vision blurred repeatedly. The longer he kept that creature there…

A flash of light appeared above him.

Blinking once, the zompire above him loosened all of its strength. Collapsing on top of him, its whole body began to glitch, its bones and muscles spazzing erratically. Kicking the zompire off, he crawled back quickly, and then turned toward…

“Y-You saved me.”

His breathing still fastened, he stared at the teenage girl who cocked her head to the left. Her hands pointed at the many zompires, there were only about ⅓ of them left.

“Eh, it was nothing. And besides…”

Stepping in front of Johnny, and even Benn, the three men stared at the girl who was younger than all of them. Her palms facing the group, they all charged at her instead.

Tar escaping from their lips, their charge brittled in so much totality force, Elizabeth firmed herself with pride, with strength. Gluing her heels to the grass, she buckled her body weight.

“I like to let the men thin them out first. That way I could get my chance to shine.”

There was already a cloud above them.

Mixing with black, it was as if Elizabeth had been preparing rather than fighting. Most of them looking up, they noticed the change of weather, or rather the clouds that were meters above. With arms already thrusted out, she thrusted them down.

Sending a cumulative strike of lightning bolts.

“No…”

Each zompire sizzled under the lightning, a power that Elizabeth held for only herself. Every bolt that struck down, that crisped the grass and the dirt, Christian was left in utter awe. Even Benn, who found his trigger to ring empty, gazed at the sight before him.

They were all astonished, all completely entrailed on the thunderous murder bolts. Glancing to their right, they saw the girl stand still, her face stern and narrowed with full will.

“Way…”

The blackish clouds disappeared from view, all that was left was just a hill. The zompire turning to ash from their failed attempt to pounce, it felt like a wasteland.

Keeping their eyes still on Elizabeth, Christian blinked, and his right eyelid twitched. If Elizabeth had that sort of power, had that blessing to begin with, couldn’t she have done it from the get-go?

“Didn’t want to let all of you guys hog all of the fun.”

But with constrained lungs, he blew air through his throat. Releasing all that he had in store, releasing it through crackled lips, he loosened his grip on his Thompson completely.

‘Just how powerful is she…’

________________________________________________________________________

Scooping up Luna, both of his arms held all of her body. Carrying her princess style, he along with Miles took the chance to sprint.

Their eyes resting on the edge of the train cart, they couldn’t look back. Before they could even reach the edge… he heard a gong. A reverb gong that shook chained his soul.

“D-Duck!”

Miles followed Luke’s order, and the two of them crouched. For a split second, a single chainsaw flew like a blade, its chains narrowly scraping off bits of their hair.

Rising back up, Miles turned, and immediately gripped his sawed-off shotguns with so much tenacity. Along with his wrists sprouting out blue shields, it wasn’t until Luke reached the edge.

“Luke! Get the others and go to the van! I’ll hold him off until you get back to me!”

“I don’t think that’s a—”

“I’ll be fine. Just remember to pick me up!”

For a split second, Luke felt a big amount of hesitation. Like it was opening up his throat, along with his chest and neck, it wasn’t until he gave him a nod. Narrowing his eyes, along with his cheeks, he moved his foot toward the railing of the cart.

And jumped off. For some reason, Luna didn’t bother to blush or grow embarrassed. Keeping in mind Luna's fearing state, he noticed that the others had finished their battles.

“Everyone! Quick! Let’s go!”

Hope had finished healing Jack, but she hadn’t gotten to Sean. Waving at him, she began her run toward the ginger-haired elf, who was two meters in front of Luke.

“Luke! Sean!”

“I know. Benn! Help me out!”

Without question, Benn jogged while holstering his gun toward his back. His hands empty and free, he ran straight toward Sean, and scooped him up without restraint.

With everyone accounted for, they all made a direct beeline toward the van. Each step, each thrust, all of their calf and thigh muscles screamed of pure adrenaline. Luke felt his breath falter, but he continued to push onward.

—I could make it…

Flashes of them played in his mind.

Hope, Luna, Jack, Miles, Benn, Stan, Fred … and Gwen; he remembered them all. Seeing silhouettes of them, he almost lost his footing, but he regained it with a simple leap forward.

—We could make it!

Passing the engine, Luke strained his gums and his teeth. Wanting saliva to drool from his lips, he pursed his lips, and glared forth with—

—He collapsed.—

Falling flat on his face, his chest put pressure on the poor woman beneath him. Sprawling on her, she didn’t care to get up, or to push him off from his body. Because on his back, another man was sprawled on him.

The air in his lungs, the pressure that he was pushed against, sent oxygen to plow from his mouth. Trying to reclaim what was left of it, he turned around harshly…

And noticed the dark-complected man with widened eyes.

“M-Miles…”

“He’s too fast…”

Turning himself over, Miles landed on his left shoulder, while both of his shotguns were loosened from his hands. With his right hand, he lowered it to his stomach, and kept it there. Coughing a couple of times, his eyes twitched relentlessly.

As his palm dribbled out small batches of red.

“Miles!”

Running toward him, Hope had her hands swaying back and forth. Luke rose up, and stood with trembling knees and a quivering throat. Everyone else caught up, and surrounded the man who began to bleed. But just as they formed a circle…

They heard a buckshot.

Turning toward the mountain of charcoal, a single man stood on top of it. Wielding a trench gun in his hands, he had the barrel pointed at the sky.

“This is your final warning!”

Guards began to pour from the train carts, their hands gripping thompsons and carbine rifles. Molesting their throats in parchness, it wasn’t long before they all stood in some form of battalion. Slowing to a crawl, they stalled near the second train cart.

Pointing their barrels at them, the Dark Angels had no choice but to stare at them. Followed by Doug, who moved his barrel toward Luke, he roared once again.

“You lot are all here! No where to go! Either we gun you down, or you raise your hands so I could see them!”

They stared at the firing squad before them, their fingers already dead set on the triggers. One wrong move, the rounds would fire.

“It’s your choice!”