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    TWENTY-ONE

     

    Roan sighed with relief as they pushed out of the hallways and onto the wide boulevard. The press of skeletons had yet to yield, but using the hallways kept them limited as they tried to push forward. The lack of space was also what kept Roan from using his newfound warhammer to the best of its ability.

    “Remember the plan,” one of the independents said behind Roan, acting as if Roan was some crazed berserker.

    “Keep them off my back,” Roan said as he lifted his hammer up and lunged forward. The hammer cut through the air and hit the leading skeleton with the cracking sound of breaking wood. Silver steel punched free of the sternum of the skeleton and it collapsed into a heap as Roan stepped into the boulevard.

    He began to work. The long handled warhammer cut through the air as he spun and pushed forward, the long reach of the weapon clearing the area out around him. With his full momentum the hammer hit the first skeleton and carried straight through to hit the next one. Both of the skeletons died from the single blow, their bodies beginning to crumble instantly.

    Roan finished the swing and didn’t allow the hammer’s momentum to slow, finishing the swing and starting the next one. It was a fight not to look behind him as the wave of independents flowed behind him. They formed a barricade of flesh and steel as Roan became the lead point of a wedge of fighters.

    From all ten of the hallways streams of fighters started to push forward and into the horde. Unlike their initial retreat when they had ran for their lives, this time was much more coordinated. The weakness of the skeletons quickly became apparent. They died by the dozens as nearly everyone pushed forward.

    Darren hadn’t been foolish enough to leave their mode of retreat unguarded. A single fighter held the entrance to all ten of the hallways while a small group of a half dozen led by Moira stayed to continue selling the salvaged weapons and whatever else she could.

    Roan fell into a rhythm, the hammer whipping back and forth like a broom as he carved a path towards the next alley. Harris was leading that group, using a pair of axes to carve apart skeletons. Further down was Taoya who charged fearlessly with blue lightning flickered around him, lighting up the darkness.

    Islands of control formed in the boulevard as the fighters cleared space, working to reach one another. Channels were forming as skeletons were stacked up, Roan getting into rhythm as he fought closer and closer to Harris’ guards.

    “Having fun, yet?” Taoya’s voice was loud across the boulevard as bits of bone went flying everywhere from the big man’s fists.

    “Your idea of fun is strange,” Harris said, dipping low and scything a skeleton’s leg free. Roan crushed another duo of skeletons with a swing and reached Harris’ rearguard.

    “Lines in place!” Harris yelled back toward his hallway as they formed a bubble around the entrances of the alleyways. The constant press of skeletons was thinning away as they died by the dozens as the phalanx formed. Roan took a moment to catch his breath, the fighting had been intense but short.


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    Don’t feel as tired as normal. Arms aren’t burning, hardly out of breath, and feel like I can do this all day. That’s weird.” Roan did his self analysis as the fight ended, just as he had been trained to do. It was critical to identify any wounds or strains before they became a hindrance in a future fight.

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