Avery had dug into learning Korean but was growing frustrated by the difficulty of translating the longer messages. He suggested that software scrambled the longer messages just enough that the context was jumbled. I asked him it was a dialect issue. Maybe the Korean in the North was different than what was being taught in the book. His answer was typical Avery. “We can understand Sam, even though he butchers the English language.”
I guessed that it was a valid point.
He had, however, translated most of the short ones, which weren’t very helpful. They reiterated many of the things we already knew about the Order, like the infighting and general chaos caused by the Grays and the disagreement about how to deal with them.
One of the most interesting bits was what wasn’t written. Donald had received numerous messages in the hours before we got to Barrow, but he hadn’t replied to any of them. He had gone silent. Obviously, that didn’t make sense, because he had had the phone on him when we killed him at the radar base. So, either that wasn’t Donald, which seemed more likely by that point, or he had talked directly to the people who had sent him messages (some of which were nasty – like the ones calling him a traitor). There was no way of knowing.
Loud beeping awoke me from my ruminations.
“What the fuck?” Avery said as he pushed several combinations of buttons on the phone. “It is dead – FUCKING DEAD!”
The door nearly came off its hinges as Sam busted in. He gulped for air as he yelled, “Get your stuff, ready, boys. Shit’s ’bout ta get real!”
“What?” I yelped, as I quickly came to my feet.
“Some of ’em Order fellers and a bunch of damn Grays is unloadin down ’ere by the generators. ’Ey gonna be on us in just a couple minutes.”
Seconds later, something metallic smacked against the door. “Barricade the—” Before I could finish, Quill covered her ears and screamed in pain. “It’s over there! It’s over there! Please, it’s over there! Please, get it – get it!” She cried out, pointing towards where the metallic sound came from.
A thunderous rumbling of footfalls off in the distance made Quill’s unexplainable sudden discomfort less relevant. “Get ready!” I yelled.
The first wave smacked against the entrance. We hurriedly turned over two of the larger dinner tables for cover, as the sound of flesh pounding on the exterior walls multiplied exponentially. There were no gunshots, just bodies slamming, fist-pounding, and feet kicking at the walls. It wouldn’t do the Order any good to kill their own weapons. Nonetheless, I knew if we killed enough of the Grays, the gunfire would come soon enough.
A pane of glass fell to the floor in a crash. Hands protruded through the empty space, teeth chattered, as Grays violently sniffed at the air. I turned my attention towards Avery. I just needed to make sure he was okay one last time before the Grays got inside.
He was tending to Quill, who up until seconds ago, was trying to escape Avery’s grasp, trying to get at some object outside. At that moment, though, she was lying almost paralyzed with fear or exhaustion or some other cause I wasn’t aware of. He made sure she had plenty of cover between the two overturned tables. I saw his lips moving, but the din was so loud, I couldn’t make out what he was saying. In that short moment, I felt complex feelings welling up. I had grown so accustomed to it being just he and I that I felt sad that I might not get to say goodbye to him, but I also felt something akin to pride watching him care for someone else. I thought about yelling out to him that I loved him, but Sam’s shouts took precedence.
“I need some extra ammo, son,” Sam repeated. I slid him the bag we had stored most of the ammunition in. He quickly grabbed several magazines and then pushed it back to me. I took what I needed before sliding it to Duane.
Duane was a mess. He dropped a magazine at least three times before he finally fumbled it around enough that it fell into his back pocket. His eyes were wide as he managed a nod in my direction. I think Duane hadn’t taken us seriously up until that moment about just how bad things really were. I had mixed feelings about him to be sure, but watching him was a mirror into the past. I’m sure my eyes were that big when I first saw a Gray.
Speaking of Duane, he had said the community center, where we prepared to battle, started off being just a single room but grew in chunks as Toolik became more popular with scientists. Because of this, the building was composed of a hodgepodge of different building materials, and rooms seemed to jut out like growths along the once singular rectangular building. There was a long hallway connecting the kitchen with the new dining hall and several other rooms, most of which were still under construction.
When I asked Duane about the wonky building, he told me he was a superintendent, not an architect. And it showed. There was a silver lining to the ad hoc design: there were only two windows large enough for someone to fit through and only one entrance door in what was the largest building in Toolik. The best part was those windows were on the same wall. We only had to defend two windows and one door. If we could clog the doorways and the windows with dead Grays, we might have a chance against them overrunning us. We would then worry about the Order later.
I was in the middle of changing mags when the second window was broken out. Sam reloaded at the same time. Because of all the practice before that night, we were all decently proficient at loading and firing our weapons. However, we still needed some work on coordination. Because Sam and I weren’t firing, and because of the newly opened ingress point, the Grays were entering faster than we were picking them off.
Just as I was lining up for a shot on the three Grays charging Avery and Duane, I heard four quick blasts from my right. Avery’s shotgun inflicted terrible damage to the Grays from that distance. They fell to the floor in a bloody heap. If I had time to worry about the long-term side effects of what he had to do, I would have. Instead, I concentrated on the snarling Grays, who were about to overrun mine and Sam’s side.
With a little luck and the last five bullets in my magazine, I dispatched the two charging Grays. I heard Sam curse as he frantically worked with his jammed rifle. I dropped the empty mag and slid another in place with a metallic click. No sooner had I primed the charging handle on my M4 did the front door give way with a thundering crash. Perfect timing, I thought. I emptied one entire mag into the tangle of bodies before Sam had his weapon up and firing again. We were losing ground quickly. We were going to have to more efficiently direct our fire, or we were going to die. It was that simple.
I was yelling before I even realized it. “Duane and Avery fire through the windows. Sam, concentrate on the door. I’ll switch back and forth.” There was no time for confirmation. Everyone understood the consequences of not doing what they were told.
Initially, I thought my orders had been a difference-maker. But then things were never that simple. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Quill sit up. Shots rang out in the distance at roughly the same time. Then as quickly as it had begun, the Grays were gone. Only the remaining cries of the dying remained. Oh, and Quill.
“It’s calling to me…” Quill said, crying, “Something… I feel like… God, my head hurts so bad.”
Everyone shared long, frightened glances. Avery held Quill. Her sobs and odd behavior only enhanced the terror everyone was feeling.
It got worse.
The night came alive with gunfire. The front façade of the building was obliterated by an ineffable number of shots fired. Dust, debris, shrapnel, and bits and pieces of dead and dying Grays. As quickly as it began, the Order’s firing squad ended.
I looked towards Sam. He shook his head, his eyes wide with terror. “What the hell comes next? They gonna burn us out?” he snorted.