"Indeed," Reverend Johnny shared the moment. "Our maneuver to rest the initiative from the aliens on all fronts gave us a prayer of hope."
Trevor thought about that decision. Stonewall had mentioned the battle of Gettysburg and how the Union army occupied the high ground on the first day. That move proved decisive. Unfortunately, not this time. This time…
His legs wobbled; his head spun.
Trevor closed his eyes and tasted the bitter scent of gunpowder fired more than a century before. He heard soldiers pleading for ammunition that would not come. He heard the battle cry of an enemy climbing a mountain one last time to finish a line of defenders who had survived wave after wave of previous attacks.
His legs steadied. His mind stopped spinning.
Trevor opened his eyes and faced his friends who eyed him suspiciously.
"Stonewall, tell me about Little Round Top."
"Pardon me, Sir? Did you say ‘Little Round Top’?"
"The second day at Gettysburg. Joshua Chamberlain and the 20 ^ th Maine were in a predicament similar to ours’. What did he do?"
After a moment of reflection, General McAllister smiled.
"They did something very foolish, Sir."
– Trevor called in the far-flung ranks of his lines, gathered his officers, and shared his plan. Most stood and listened vacantly. Trevor did not know if that vacancy came because they could not believe the audacity of his plan, or if they were too far gone to hear.
The plan did not take much explaining. It was simple. And brutal.
He finished and surveyed his troops.
Troops?
The sorry survivors formed a thick circle among the trees and makeshift fortifications. Shopkeepers and bus drivers and restaurant managers dressed in a hodgepodge of jeans and t-shirts, boots and tennis shoes, brandishing hunting rifles and pistols, clubs and knives. Even the professional soldiers left over from Prescott’s band no longer stood strong and confident.
"You must all understand it ends now. There is no retreat and if we stay here, we will be overwhelmed. There is only one alternative: forward. "
The collection of vacant eyes widened as if to suggest that while they had followed Trevor Stone so far, they might not be ready to follow him any further.
"I’d rather die with my hands on the enemy’s throat then cower behind a wall. I will show that enemy the face of his nightmares. He has come to my world and killed my people. He will see the FURY in my eyes."
A voice of despair cried out, "We have no more bullets!"
"Idon’t need bullets!"
Trevor’s bellow came from somewhere deep inside his person. The part, he figured, where the Old Man had found his killer.
"For thousands of years we have fought each other. For what? To prepare us for this day! The battlegrounds of Troy and Gallipoli; of Tarawa and Trafalgar; all to prepare us for now. The poets have written of our warlike nature for a reason: To be VICTORIOUS HERE."
Trevor glanced at Nina. She stood still but he could see every muscle in her body tighten in anticipation of the fight to come.
He returned his attention to his 'army'.
"It is time to decide. WILL YOU FIGHT?"
A few vacant eyes glowed alive. Isolated murmurs of ‘yes’ danced through the crowd.
"For our slaughtered families…for the enslaved children…for your lost lovers and murdered brothers…you are DEMONS waiting to be set loose."
More eyes filled with life. Heads nodded in approval.
"Think of all you lost. Think of what they have taken from you. Look at what they have made us! Who took our homes? Who killed our children? They are guilty! All of them! And they expect us to roll over and die? I say NO! They will take NOTHING MORE FROM ME!"
The words raced from his lips and he felt the power. It surprised Trevor that he could find the nerves to touch, the buttons to push. As he watched, he saw that ragtag army change into a mob of murderers.
Yes, maybe that was his gift. He could turn people into killers. Is that what the Old Man saw in him?
It did not matter. The ends, Trevor now realized, justified the means. He would turn them into barbarians if he needed to for it was his charge to save mankind in the name of all who had died in the flames of Armageddon.
"Unleash your hate now and…and…AND SLAUGHTER THE ENEMY! LET THIS BE THEIR GRAVEYARD! MAKE THIS THE DAY THE TIDE TURNED AND MAN’S VENGEANCE WAS DELIVERED TO THE INVADERS!"
Clenched fists and raised rifles pumped in the air.
Woody "Bear" Ross stepped forward.
"Three cheers for Trevor Stone!"
"Hoo-rah! Hoo-rah! Hoo-rah!"
Trevor shouted: "I’M TIRED OF WAITING FOR THOSE SONS-A-BITCHES! LET'S GO AND KICK THEIR ASS OFF OUR WORLD! NO MERCY! KILL THEM ALL! EVERY LAST FUCKING ONE OF THEM!"
The soldiers-policemen and garbage collectors, salesmen and teachers-roared in anger. Trevor had conjured the faces of dead friends, dead brothers and sisters, moms and dads, sons and daughters. They remembered living under the yoke of slavery and running in terror from ghastly creatures.
No more hiding. No more running. A thousand wrongs ached for vengeance.
"Sir, you may need this," Stonewall handed one of his Civil War era swords to Trevor. "Now I am prepared to follow you straight to Hell."
The weight of the blade felt good in Trevor’s hands. Natural.
Trevor sought out and locked eyes with Nina. He saw his lover there. He also saw a wolf.
"Nina…this is your moment. Seize it."
She smiled a smile to chill the darkest heart.
Trevor raised his sword.
"Charge!"
Benny Duda played the corresponding melody on his trumpet. The mass poured from higher to lower, roaring across the open killing field and into the woods below.
So many nightmares had come to Earth. So many hideous beasts and terrible creatures.
They had made one mistake: they had awoken the most horrible of beasts. They had awoken the vengeance of mankind. The day of reckoning had come. Man would no longer run and hide. Man was coming after the nightmares. Hunting them.
The ground trembled as the human stampede practically fell down the hill and collided with the alien army amidst the trees and rocky ground of the mountainside.
The forward tier of the Viking force stopped, stunned into inaction by the brazenness of the assault. The enemy raised rifles but had little time to fire for Trevor’s legion smashed into them not as a cohesive military formation but as a murderous, savage mob.
A few quick pops of rifle fire echoed through the dense forest; an explosion sent a trio of poncho-clad soldiers flying. However, the weapons of modern battle were quickly discarded in favor of more barbaric means: knives and rifle butts and swords and fists and teeth and fingernails and anything that could wound and kill.
This was no genius tactical maneuver. It was a frenzied swarm. Barbaric.
Unexpected.
Trevor spent his last five pistol shots as he raced forward, and then swung his sword. It cut through ponchos easily.
Brewer strangled a Viking fighter with his bare hands. Shep fired shotgun blasts until out of shot, and then swung the gun like a club.
"At the wrath of the LORD of hosts the land quakes, and the people are like FUEL FOR FIRE; No man spares his brother, each DEVOURS the flesh of his neighbor," boomed Revered Johnny as he swung his baseball bat with both hands.
Woody "Bear" Ross snapped the neck of one of the enemy. Cassy Simms held two pistols and fired and fired and fired while laughing hysterically.
The K9s bit and clawed, shredding disorientated Viking warriors into tatters.
Dustin McBride wrestled the gun off a foe then used it to pummel the creature to death.
"THAT’S ALL FOLKS!" Casey roared as he drove a bayonet into one of the poncho-wearing villains.
Stonewall joined the fray, skewering an enemy through the chest.