Still of Night (Dead of Night 3)

“They’re getting better,” she responded. “Some of them seem to be picking it up faster than others, but they all want to learn. They all want to protect the people they care about.”

“They have a good teacher, a strong leader.” Brett smiled at her, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before pulling her close and draping an arm around her shoulder. “You’ll get them to where they need to be.”

Leaning against his side comfortably, she rested her head against his chest. They watched together in silence as Andy and Brian began to spar, the sound of wood hitting wood echoing across the field. It was a lighthearted practice spar, neither of them trying very hard, but Rachael could see how much they’d improved over the last few weeks.

In the moment of calm, it seemed that everything could be right with the world. No orcs, no bloodthirsty gangs threatening their safety, no loss.

So when the small pack of orcs emerged from the tree line behind Brian and Andy as they fought, the words of warning stuck in her throat . . . lost on the wind that carried the unsettling death rattle of the undead.

Andy froze in terror as Brian turned, trying to get his sword up to defend himself. He tripped over his feet, landing hard as one of the orcs grabbed for him. His weapon flew out of his grasp, off to the side and out of reach.

Swallowing hard, Rachael ducked under Brett’s arm and charged forward, her mouth open to warn the rest of the group. Before she could get the words out, however, another warrior already had her heavy wooden sword out, running full speed to strike quickly—Maria, a shy, quiet teen who’d joined their group recently. Before Rachael could react, the girl slammed her sword into the orc’s head—once, twice, three times in quick succession.

It dropped to the ground, unmoving. Maria stood over it, making sure it didn’t rise again, before reaching out a hand to help Brian back to his feet. Andy, in the meantime, snapped out of his shock and attacked the other orcs.

The rest of the group sprang into action without an order. Rachael watched proudly as they moved together as a unit to clear out the last standing dead. Some held back, but as the last of the orcs fell, the chatter and excitement of success filled the air.

Smiling, Brett joined Rachael, standing at her side. He mussed her hair lightly.

“Welcome to your army.”

— 2 —

The morning sun glowed across the grounds as Rachael helped weed one of their gardens. She smiled, listening to the sound of children playing in the parking lot; drawing on the asphalt with chalk and playing with toys. This was the world she wanted, a taste of normality in the chaos.

Mark, another recent arrival to their community, jogged in between the beds of plants, stammering out-of-breath apologies for being late to his duties. Cute in a thin, intense way, with a shock of brown hair that hadn’t seen scissors in months. Rachael smiled, handing him a small shovel. “Pull up some dirt,” she said, gesturing to the rows of damp, dark ground.

The work was hard, but getting lost in thought made the hours pass. Rachael found herself tuning out most of the sounds around her as she dug her fingers through the dirt.

When the sound of children shrieking broke through her reverie, she thought it was just a playground scuffle. Then the shrieks turned into screams of pure terror, pulling her out of her thoughts, jarring her back to attention. Rachael grabbed her sword instinctively, tossing the scabbard to one side as she bolted toward the commotion. The screams grew louder.

“The fence!” someone shouted. “There’s a hole! The fence is broken!”

Dread filled Rachael’s chest as she rounded the corner. Orcs filled half the lot, dozens of them, shambling with rotted hands outstretched and grasping at the panicked children fleeing in every direction.

No one but Rachael had a weapon. She snapped into action, charging the closest orcs, slicing and kicking and stabbing. She scooped up children on the run, handing them off to anyone she could as she charged toward the horde of walking death.

There was no way she could take on this many by herself; there were more than she’d ever battled alone. She battled ice-cold fear in the pit of her stomach as more and more orcs grasped at her, broken teeth snapping the air.

“Focus,” she growled as she stumbled against a broken curb, almost losing her footing. Catching herself, she adjusted her grip on her sword, cutting through the orcs grabbing at her sleeve, knocking them away and moving on to the next without pause. Stopping meant death for her, for the children . . . for their home.

Charging through a pair of orcs, she swung her sword, dragging it across the backs of their necks as she spun, kicking out to knock them to the ground. There were too many; the orcs came in never-ending masses, and she couldn’t take them on herself. She needed to focus on getting everyone to safety instead of trying to reduce the enemy’s numbers.

Most of her people were back at the hospital, but Rachael could still hear screaming from across the lot, behind the orcs that changed direction to trail her. Throwing caution to the wind, she took a deep breath and charged, ducking and dodging and weaving, chasing the screams.

She was vaguely aware of someone yelling her name behind her, but she couldn’t focus on that now. Swinging her sword arcing down into an orc’s skull, she yanked hard, pulling it out of one orc’s head to slice through another’s neck, never stopping long enough to let any of them grab her.

She spotted a man with a boy and a girl backing away from the orcs. The man—Rachael couldn’t remember his name—stood in front of the kids, doing his best to protect them.

“This way!” Rachael yelled, waving to them

.

The boy bolted toward her, and she kicked an orc back with a solid foot to the chest, grabbing the small child and pulling him up onto her back.

“Hold on tight,” she shouted as he wrapped his arms and legs around her. She gestured to the man to do the same with the little girl, but he was frozen in fear, the child’s terrified screams drowning out Rachael’s yells.

She made a split-second decision and charged the orc that stood between them, swinging her sword more slowly with the extra weight on her back, but still managing to land a solid blow that knocked the rotted form out of her way.