Marcus

“Checkpoint. Right ahead,” Paul whispered from the bow.

The narrow space was enough to carry his voice to the stern where Marcus and Hyun were. Hyun readily positioned on the starboard side, giving him a good vantage point in case of trouble. Marcus, meanwhile, took the port side, studying the four guards sitting around a table close to the bank engrossed in a game of dice and cups, all of them armed, their pommels gleaming under the lights. Paul and Roylan went up the bow, staring straight ahead while keeping an eye for any sudden movements. The five prisoners sat silently at the middle, eyes down, mouth shut, and muscles stilled as Marcus instructed.

This would have been the most significant checkpoint that they had passed compared to the previous two. They were a nervous wreck when they stumbled upon the first one, expecting the worst, but the two Pale-men guarding its small dock merely paid them no mind, no stir nor a signal was given, and their small boat safely passed without a hair of their bodies, calm under the river’s wake. The soldiers stayed in little wooden outpost shacks built along the cavern walls, suspended over the river. If they aroused any suspicion, Marcus had no idea how the soldiers would alert the others. He didn’t see any wirings running out of the outpost nor anything that resembled an antenna, and if it were the latter, it would be useless deep underneath the rock. No objects of any resemblance to post-industrial technology. They could communicate through magic, and the possibilities would be limitless.

They stumbled upon another an hour later with the same results. The Pale-men didn’t suspect a thing yet. They still had a long way to go, and who knew how many checkpoints were ahead waiting for them. There were times when the river split into two, but they steered the boat to the widest span, believing it to be the main river leading to the Pale-men’s home base. Marcus hoped it did. It could be leading them farther and farther from their main objective, but he wished that wasn’t the case. He also hoped that with this third checkpoint, they would pass without dropping an ink of blood.

However, luck, as its true nature, played no favors.

Four hundred feet ahead, something heavy blocked the river. It wasn’t until Marcus’s eyes adjusted from the new light coming from the outpost that he realized it was a large iron-latticed gate—a portcullis thirty feet high—and there was no way they could ram their small wooden boat through it without splitting it into two, and down they went with it.

Which meant they had to do one thing.

“Shit,” Marcus cursed under his breath. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“We have to get off the boat, aren’t we?” Hyun asked, defeatedly.

Marcus frowned. “I’m afraid so.”

“Damn. I wished for a quiet boat ride.”

“Better luck next time.”

“There’s five more on the docks. Two up on the rocks, that’s eleven,” Hyun whispered. “If we take them, We’ll be outnumbered.”

“Stay calm. Don’t alert them,” Marcus hissed.

The riverbank spanned forty feet wide. There were rocky outcrops that jutted out twenty feet over the river, forming a bridge connecting to the right bank of the canal. Two bowmen drones steely guarded its space. The outpost’s “shack” was a lot larger than the previous two, and Marcus couldn’t even call it as one as it was its own proper building, two stories high, rigged against the cavern walls, and still had enough space on the front yard to fill a full-sized platoon. Two drones came out of its entrance and walked over to the ramparts, while three more stood guard along the bank, eyes glued to the far wall across the river, pitched in darkness, carrying pikes and a waist-length shield instead of swords. The same glowing rocks were attached to torches fixed against the cavern, illuminating the space.

Next to the building, however, was the wheel that would raise the portcullis.

We need to get that, Marcus noted. We have to go through a dozen soldiers first.

Paul and Roylan worriedly glanced over their shoulders, and as they read his expression, they realized what would happen next. Roylan quickly took off his and Paul’s dagger, sauntered over to the two older men at the front, and cut their ropes behind their back. Roylan leaned over their ear, and Marcus didn’t have to be near to know what he told them.

Be prepared for a fight.

The two older men slowly nodded their heads as they held the dagger behind their back. Marcus caught a slight quiver in their lips as the situation sunk in between nervously glancing at the soldiers out on the bank and trying to train their eyes on the ground.

Not good, Marcus thought, but there was nothing he could do now to change it.

Roylan then went back to the bow, took out the two rifles from behind a crate, and handed the other to his son. They inconspicuously hid them behind their cape, out of sight from the soldiers.

With the checkpoint’s lights still far away, the guards hadn’t noticed them approach yet, so Hyun and Marcus busily cut the ropes of the other three men at the stern. They gave the daggers to the two men, who looked like in their early twenties, possibly college students, except for the third, Ian, who was about Connor’s age.

“D-Do I get one?” Ian whispered nervously to Marcus.

“No. When it starts, hide behind the gunwale.”

“What’s that?”

Marcus tried not to lose his temper. “The hull. The railing. That,” he pointed to the protective barrier of the boat.

“Oh. But—”

“Hide. If you don’t, the aliens are the last thing you have to worry about.” Marcus growled and glared at him. Ian merely let out a sharp whimper and lowered his head back.

Their boat passed through the exit, where the river transitioned into a spacious, artificially-built canal. One of the drones sitting around the table saw the boat neared. The drone dropped its dice, took a lantern hanging on a post, and walked up the docks, raising the light high to see them. The drone started waving its arm, hailing them closer to one of the three small berths a hundred feet away. Only one space was open, situated in the middle, the other two berths occupied by smaller boats filled with sacks and crates.

There was something different about these Pale-men soldiers. Half of them weren’t wearing the chitinous armor that Marcus saw from the main cave’s entrance, and indeed not the trail of bodies they followed from the castle. These Pale-men wore tunics and leather jerkins; their armors probably racked inside the outpost building. They obviously were confident that they didn’t expect any trouble this deep and this far into the mountains. The one who walked up the dock was only wearing a loose-fitting tunic, trousers, and boots. A belt secured around his waist a dagger and his sword.

Marcus grinned. It seemed there was a way to twist the knife much, much easier.

“Bring the boat in,” Marcus ordered Hyun.

“Any closer and they could see through our helm. We don’t have four eyes.”

“They won’t open that thing unless our feet are firmly planted on that dock.” Marcus glanced at the dock eighty feet ahead, their distance narrowing. “Trust me. Follow my lead. We can take care of unarmored soldiers face-to-face, but you get the archers.”

Hyun briefly scanned the rock bridge. “I’ll need a miracle for that.”

Marcus realized he was right. The two drones would have an advantage over the elevation, and they could rain down arrows onto the dock and the boat with deadly gusto. “Well, at least try.”

Hyun sighed deeply. “Fine. I’m trusting you.” He then grabbed a long pole hidden underneath a white woolen tarp and dipped the stick into the water, using it as a tiller. The river was only twelve feet deep at the most, and they had used the stick to steer them in the right direction — this time, to the waiting beasts.

Fifty feet to go.

Marcus stepped closer behind Ian, who quaked where he sat.

“When I step on the dock, hide and cover your ears.”

“What?” Ian looked up at him; then, his eyes cast down onto the shotgun hidden behind the port rails, lying on the floor. Beside it was the broadsword. None of the Pale-men except for that captain strapped their swords behind their back. Marcus didn’t want to raise any suspicions with having one on him.

Realizing what he meant, Ian swallowed hard. “Oh.”

“It’s going to be very loud, kid.”

All Ian could do was a nod.

The cavern walls were mostly jagged and craggy instead of a smooth surface. If he, Paul, and Roylan started firing their guns in this enclosed space, it would be able to absorb and attenuate most of the sound. A smooth surface would allow sound to be reflected at a higher amplitude, and they’d be lucky if all they got out of that were torn eardrums. However, even with the cavern’s rough surface, it will still hurt like a motherfucker. They might lose some hearing for a few minutes, and in worse cases, maybe a few hours. The last time he used firearms inside a cave was in Nangarhar, chasing a squad of the Taliban in endless tunnels burrowed into the mountains.

Kind of what I’m dealing now, Marcus thought, a little amused. Except I’m tracking aliens.

Marcus stayed closer to the port side with the shotgun right in front of his feet. So much for silence, he scoffed.

Twenty feet to go.

Another drone came out of the building and joined the first on the dock, this one wore the standard Pale-man armor, who whispered something to the other in its clicking, convoluted gurgle of a language. The first drone then pointed to the middle berth, wanting them to dock there. Marcus turned to Hyun, nodded over to steer the boat in. Hyun pushed on the pole, and the boat veered over to the spot smoothly.

Marcus nodded to Paul to approach the port side, and once he did, they both crouched down, grabbed the ropes, and threw them to the two drones standing close to the edge of the docks. Both of them caught it in mid-air, and they then crouched over to a piling and tied the ropes around it.

Marcus glanced over to the soldiers sitting by the tables, still consumed over their game. The other three soldiers remained standing, blankly staring off to the other side of the bank while one of the bowmen patrolled the bridge back and forth. But from where they docked, the other bowman was hidden from view. Marcus quickly looked at Hyun, who shook his head. He didn’t have a line-of-sight either.

Marcus tried to remain calm. Why can’t everything be easy, he grumbled.

The drone who tied the line to the furthest piling pointed at the five humans and cackled, throwing some jabs with the other drone that made the other also laughed. Their body language was enough to tell a full picture, even with the language barrier.

With each of the drones’ backs turned, busily tightening the knots on the pilings, Marcus turned to Paul, cocked his head toward the armored one, mouthing, I’ll take this one. Paul nodded, taking the other.

Marcus picked up the shotgun and hopped off the boat. Paul followed close, slung the rifle around his shoulders mid-jump. At the corner of his eyes, the other soldiers didn’t seem to notice what they carried at first, but he could feel that at a second glance, everything would begin to stir at a rapid pace. He hurried over to the drone at the furthest end of the dock, each of the three steps seemed to quicken the plunge of his heart down to his bowels, right at the unmistakeable sound of its handgrip pumped back and forth, loading a fresh round into the chamber.

It was as if the air grew thick, gasps from the boat clung to the tension above the cacophony of the river’s wake, and a quick scuttle from behind, no doubt coming from Ian scurrying to hide behind the gunwale, perked the drone’s ears. The drone halted tying the knot, drawn by the mad commotion on the boat’s hull and the sound of a loading shotgun, which must be strange for them. The drone must have felt his approach, turned its head around to look, not of vigilance but curiosity, wanting to know where the sound came from.

All it saw of Marcus was a fleeting shadow against the lantern’s light, looming over him. It saw his eyes behind the helm, a split second of realization dawning, mouth gaping in disbelief as the drone stared at the end of the barrel three inches away from its eyes. Marcus fired.

There was nothing left of its face. There was nothing left of its head at all. It was as if it had caved into its helmet like a melted pumpkin smashed to pieces after kicking it, white blood spewed across the wooden docks with chunks of brain and bone, and the drone’s body hurtled into the waters from the great force.

Marcus reeled back, ears ringing wildly as if the entire world converged on top of him. A sharp, howling cry from behind. Marcus whirled around, part-relieved that his ears were still working, and saw Paul had delved his sword clean into the drone’s right shoulder, almost severing its neck. Paul quickly kicked the drone forward, pulling the sword out of its flesh and bone in sickening squelch. The drone crumpled to the floor with a soft thud. Paul saved his bullets instead of using it. He then quickly dropped the sword and got to one knee, raised the Winchester rifle, and aimed for the soldiers huddled around the table, firing two successive shots.

One bullet got a drone by the arm, caused it to squeal from the pain, fell off its stool, and squirmed desperately on the ground. Though the other bullet ricocheted off the walls inches over one drone’s head, and the Pale-men ducked underneath the table and hid behind their stools. They were shouting fervently at each other, scrambling for their blades as they crawled toward the building, no doubt making a run for their proper gear.

One of the guarding Pale-men, a scant ten yards near the docks, stood frozen from the noise before a bullet found its way through its gut. Marcus turned and saw the shot came from Roylan up on the bow, but the Pale-man merely buckled over to the ground, clutching at its stomach as white blood oozed out of the armor’s hole, still alive. Further up the bank, the other two guards brought their shields up and their pikes forward, and started marching slowly toward the docks. One drone up on the ramparts jumped behind an outcrop, though its partner chose to run down the ramp, pulling out its sword as it let out a battle cry.

A splash from afar broke through the ringing gunfire. A quick scan of the bridge saw that the archer fell off it, now struggling in the cold waters of the river, carried by the current toward the portcullis. A quick arrow to the head from Hyun stopped its wailing.

All of this happened in three seconds as Marcus allowed his ears to adjust from the shotgun blast, which was a lot louder than Paul and Roylan’s rifle.

Marcus pumped another chamber, aimed at the crawling three Pale-men cowering behind the table, fired, and got one drone who mistakenly peeked out from underneath, shearing off its shoulders clean. The force hurled the drone back, its blood painting the wall behind it like spilled milk. A drone made a break for the door, jumped inside, and Marcus got a shot of the door frame, which splintered off its hinges.

“Fuck!” Marcus cursed.

Roylan and Paul got down on one knee and kept shooting at the charging drone, sword raised high, howling toward them. Two of Paul’s shots missed by an inch, but Roylan managed to sink a bullet on its shoulders. Though, it never fazed the creature, continuing its maddening charge. It only rallied the other two drones behind the shields, picking up to match the other’s pace. In a few seconds, they would reach the docks, and this was one turning tide Marcus had to deal with quick.

He strode toward the edge of the quay, as close as he could get to the charging beast, and with one aim, sheared off its right leg with a quick shot. It's battle cry turned into a shriek, piercing and frenzied. It didn’t take long for another shell to cave its chest. Marcus pumped the shotgun once again and shot the drone Roylan missed earlier, right on the face. Hyun then shot an arrow at the advancing Pale-men, but he only managed to hit their shields. This was enough to deter them, however, and they retreated behind a boulder at the base of the bridge, no doubt thinking another approach. Marcus and the others only had a few seconds to spare.

“We took them by surprise, but we have to end this now, or they’ll gain ground!” Marcus roared, walking back to the boat. “See the other archer?”

“Not yet!” Hyun shouted back.

“I count six left out there!” Roylan hollered.

“Shit. I can’t see straight on this thing,” Paul spat, taking off his helmet and throwing it back into the boat. “There. That’s better.”

Marcus quickly studied the bank. One was inside the building, hiding somewhere, while three more hid behind the rocky outcrop at the base of the bridge. One was incapacitated under the table, still wailing from the pain inflicted by Paul’s bullet. And another, the archer—the dangerous one—was missing.

The five other men were all lying on the floor inside the boat, crumpled in the fetal position, covering their ears and squinting their eyes like children.

“Oh, for crying out loud! Get the fuck up!” Marcus shouted over.

A muffled whistle cut through the air, and before Marcus could blink, an arrow sank into Roylan’s right shoulder. Roylan let out a strangled yelp and stumbled into the hull, crashing over the crates, rolling around as he clutched at his shoulder.

“Dad!” Paul screamed, struggling to climb over the gunwale.

Another muffled whistle.

Marcus grabbed hold of Paul’s jacket and yanked him back. They both fell onto the dock—the arrow flying over his head. Marcus quickly rolled over and hid behind the boat’s hull, dragging Paul with him by the collar.

“I’m hit! I’m hit!” Paul cried out, panicking.

Marcus turned and saw dark-red blood cascading down over Paul’s face. He grabbed Paul’s chin, and turned his head sideways, saw that the arrow had nicked him clean by the left side—a flesh wound.

“You’ll be okay.”

“Are you shitting me? Can’t you see I’m bleeding!”

“You’ll live.”

“But, I’m fucking bleeding!”

“I’ve had worse. It’ll make a good scar.”

“I don’t care about a damn scar! I’m bleeding!”

Another arrow hit the piling two feet away from them.

“Marcus. My dad—”

“Yeah, yeah. I saw. Roylan? Holler back, buddy!”

“Hurts like a bitch!” Roylan howled.

Marcus shrugged. “Well, he’s alive.”

“Can somebody shoot the fucker, will you?” Roylan cried out, followed by a slew of curses.

“I can’t!” Hyun answered. “He’s on the opposite bank, up on the ramp. I can’t make a real shot.”

“Someone, please help my dad in there!” screamed Paul.

Marcus took a quick peek over the gunwale. On the left, movement stirred from the bridge’s outcrop, and the two Pale-men cautiously began to move out of their hiding place, shields up, taking advantage of their archer’s suppression. The other drone from the ramparts quickly joined them from behind, advancing step-by-step, and it suddenly dawned on Marcus that they weren’t heading for the docks, but to the building shack, deducing that it offered a strong defensive barrier against an attack from the humans. If they all get into the building, it’ll make this skirmish harder to win, fighting a combined force of four inside instead of one.

Marcus lowered his head again and wiped the blood off Paul’s eyes.

“Can you see?” Marcus asked.

Paul took a couple of blinks. His blue eyes stared back at him. “Yeah, I can fucking see.”

Marcus nodded, grabbed the rifle Paul dropped and handed it back to him. “Face the building door. Shoot anything that gets near it,” he said.

With them hiding crouched behind the boat, they couldn’t take a shot at the advancing Pale-men unless they opened themselves up for a quick arrow to the head. But from where they hid, they had a fifteen feet wide line of sight to anyone trying for the door.

Another arrow whistled past, hitting the boat from the starboard side.

“I only have one shot left, I think,” Paul said.

“Make the shot count then. One less bastard to deal with.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Multitasking.”

Marcus knocked hard against the hull of the boat. Just behind the barrier, Ian would be hiding with his broadsword lying beside him. At least that was the last time Marcus remembered seeing it unless the gunfire scrambled his memory.

“Ian! Sword!” Marcus bellowed.

Ian took a couple of seconds to respond. Though Marcus heard a whimper and shuffled behind the barrier, and before he knew it, Ian threw the sword, and it literally dropped on his lap. An inch to the left and the heavily ornate silver pommel would have fallen on his balls.

Too close.

The three Pale-men were now twenty feet away from the building.

No time to lose, Marcus thought, gritting his teeth.

“Hyun! I’m going to fire my shotgun, and you take a shot of the freak, you hear?”

“I, what?”

“Aim for the head.”

“I—what?”

If Marcus were right, the archer would duck from the sound. Hopefully, giving Hyun enough time to go for the kill.

“Got it?”

“Marcus—”

“Ready?”

“Wait—!”

“Now!”

Marcus aimed the shotgun high up on the cavern ceiling and fired. Chunks of rocks fell onto the river, and Hyun jumped out of his hiding place, aimed his bow and arrow, and made the string sing. A rough thud echoed from across the river, followed by a clatter of wood and armor hitting the rocks.

“Got him!” Hyun exclaimed.

Music to Marcus’s ears. He tapped Paul by the shoulder, shouted, “Paul! Now!”

Paul merely shifted his position a foot to the left, caught sight of the first Pale-man on the line, and fired. The bullet went straight through the neck, and the Pale-man dropped his shield as he clutched onto his wounds in a stifled cry, choking in his own blood. An arrow caught the unshielded Pale-man on the torso, but he managed to crawl behind a wooden pillar before Hyun could finish the job. The last one, however, ran into the building.

Out of bullets, Marcus pulled the broadsword out of the scabbard, imagining it was just a very long-ass knife, which weighed five pounds, reminding himself it was just like the many blades he trained within the military. Marcus exploded out of the crouch and briefly glimpsed into the boat. The two older men were hunched over Roylan, taking care of his wound, while Paul jumped into the boat and took Roylan’s side. Hyun hopped out, bow at the ready, focused on the drone hiding behind the pillar. Any move and it would find an arrow between its eyes.

However, one of the college kids had an arrow sticking out of the back of his skull.

“Son of a bitch,” Marcus muttered. Lucky shot. He had forgotten his name, knew it started with a D or something, but only Ian’s name stuck out from the five. Still, it was an ugly way to go.

“Watch the freak by the pillar,” Marcus told Hyun.

“On it.”

“And shoot anything that comes out of that fucking door.”

Ian had his back against the gunwale, trembling as he stared at the body, the pool of blood beneath him growing by the second. Marcus tapped his sword on the rail to get his attention.

“Not over yet, kid,” he said.

Ian looked like a dog who had their paws inside the treat jar, and it took him a moment to register what he was saying.

“You did a good job back then, Ian,” Marcus said.

“I-I did?”

“Yeah. You didn’t freeze when I called for you. I like that. You remind me of my son.”

“The one taken by the monsters?”

“My eldest. He’s brave like you.”

Ian didn’t say another word, but Marcus caught a hint of a smile forming on the young man’s lips.

“I want you to stay down here and keep Roylan safe, alright? Can you do that?”

“I…I think I can.”

“I’ll have to deal with more monsters, but I’ll return in a short while.”

“Get them good,” Ian said softly.

Marcus couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll do my best.”

With Paul and Roylan wounded, he then pointed to the other college kid and the two older men. “You three are coming with me,” he said.

One of the older men hesitated, glancing at the dead body on the floor, but the college kid was more than determined for a fight. Marcus could see it in his eyes, and he realized he must’ve previously known the dead man behind him.

“Let’s kill these bastards, shall we?” the college kid sneered.

"How about you Paul?" Marcus asked.

"We'll be alright here. Go," said Paul, cradling his father's head on his lap. "Give them hell."

"Ah, Christ. Fucking arrow's stuck to my back!" Roylan hissed.

"We'll get it off. Don't worry, dad."

Marcus handed the college kid the sword dropped by the drone Paul killed on the dock, and the boy didn’t hesitate to take the blade. They looted the guard’s corpse, and Marcus gave the pike and the shortsword to the older men while Marcus took the shield. He took the lead, ordering the men to follow close behind him just in case the soldiers inside the building managed to grab a bow. The Pale-men inside still hadn’t made their move yet known. They came across the table first, where the wounded Pale-man hiding underneath it was still alive, but losing a lot of blood fast. The college kid didn’t spare a second before he sank the sword through the drone’s armor’s opening, right underneath the belly. One twist of the blade and the Pale-man gasped its last breath.

They marched toward the building in an orderly fashion, mid-crouch, ready to strike in case of trouble. The Pale-man behind the pillar rushed out with a dagger in hand; white blood covered its mouth and armor, no doubt Hyun had struck somewhere vital. Marcus simply had to lower his shield and dropped to his knee, and Hyun, standing behind him, drew his bow, and placed a couple of arrows on the Pale-man’s chest. The soldier’s eyes bulged for a brief moment—shock, terror, and desperation all in one. Then the Pale-man slumped onto the ground.

The building’s door was wide open, having torn the hinges off earlier when Marcus shot it. Still, he didn’t know how many could be waiting inside except for the two who had escaped the river bank. There could be soldiers sleeping in there, but Marcus couldn’t do anything about it now except take them out, no matter how many.

Marcus raised three fingers for everyone toes at the back and then began counting down to one silently.

They burst through the entryway, into the cramped room, blocked the arrow wheezing toward them, thrumming sharp onto the shield. With a raucous roar, Marcus charged across the room toward the bowman, felt the shield make contact with something hard, almost ripping his arm off from the damned force, followed by a screech emanated from the front. Marcus fell forward in the heap of tangled flesh and limb. Though, he managed to maneuver his leg forward and braced himself, saving him from a disastrous fall that he might not recover. He had enough time to glimpse at the creature on the ground. It was the guard that had escaped earlier, this time, managing to grab a bow. He sunk the blade into the bowman’s belly, and the creature shrieked one more time before a twist cut them off into silence.

Booming behind a false wall, a Pale-man, one of the guards that escaped from the table, broke through the wall, splintering wood flying everywhere. The soldier caught Hyun by the arm, hauled him off the floor, and threw him back against the wall in a quick swoop.

However, the Pale-man only managed it that far before a dagger found its way into the nape of its neck. Two more swords followed a split second later, piercing right through its chest, coming from the three other men, and they stabbed the creature like piranhas had smelled blood in an aquarium, their screams like a rallying cry to deepen the twist of their blade to the bone. They stabbed him ten, twenty, hell maybe thirty times, Marcus had lost count, and by the time he helped Hyun up on his feet, nothing of the Pale-man was recognizable. The three men took a step back, chests rising and shoulders slumped from exhaustion.

“Well…that's the spirit,” Marcus said.

“There could be more,” Hyun said.

The ground floor was mostly open space with cots and crates for their supplies. One section was reserved for their weapons and armors, used to be hidden behind the false wall before the Pale-man shattered it. One set of stairs led to the second floor. Marcus nodded, and everyone gathered around him in the same line. Marcus picked up the shield and proceeded to move to the foot of the stairs. They slowly climbed up the steps.

The second floor was also mostly open, filled with more cots, but there were two private rooms on the far side. There were no windows. They took the nearest door on their left, but when they opened it, it only contained an empty circular table in the middle of the space, surrounded by white woven mats. A centipede-like statue was displayed against the far wall next to some bat-looking abomination, and the mountain itself, carved from rock. No one was inside.

Some chapel or prayer room? Marcus guessed.

They moved toward the next door. However, this one was blocked by an ancient-looking padlock, and Marcus had to use the end of his shield to bludgeon the chain lose.

“They locked it. We don’t know what’s waiting on the other side,” Hyun warned.

“One way to find out.”

Hyun ushered the others behind the wall, not wanting them to be in striking distance of an arrow. Marcus also hid behind a wall next to the door, making sure everyone was ready to storm in whatever was waiting inside.

“On three,” Marcus whispered.

One.

Two.

Three.

Hyun kicked the door open, and Marcus stormed in.

Six shapes screamed, shadows rushing back to the far wall against the dim light. Horrified eyes stared back at him, begged him not to hurt them, shouted for him to stop, some on their knees, while others mumbled a soft prayer…in a language Marcus understood. As his vision adjusted, he realized that the six shapes before him were human.

Two wore tattered black business suits, and another had only a casual shirt now torn and muddied for weeks without a change. Three of the men wore a thawb—a midnight blue and two crimson velvet—knee-length robes that were standard garments worn by Muslim men in the Arab countries.

“‘Atrakana w shanuna! La tudhina! La tudhina!” One of the men wearing the blue thawb cried out.

Marcus lowered his sword and shield. “Anaa afhamuk.” I understand you. “Marhaban.” Hello.

Their voices quieted down, their eyes also readjusting from the light coming from the outside, and it seemed they were shocked by what they’ve seen, maybe coupled by awe, fear, and stunned curiosity.

“Maa ismak?” Who are you? Asked the man in the blue thawb.

“Marcus,” he introduced, pointing his finger to himself. “Ismii, Marcus.”

“Amriki?” American?

Marcus cocked his head, studying the six men closer. Something doesn’t feel right.

“Aywa.” Yes.

Marcus caught the two men wearing business suit shared a wary look. He could also sense the others’ restless unease. He cleared his throat, asked another, “Hal’ ant min San Faransisaku?” Are you from San Francisco?

“La.” No.

Marcus paused. “Ayn?” Where?

“Al-Qahirah.”

It couldn’t be possible, no, it shouldn’t. Suddenly, Marcus’s mind raced, fighting to puzzle out the pieces of what he had just heard, black spots exploding at the periphery of his vision. Though, on the outside, he might’ve looked like he just got a brain aneurysm. Hyun studied him quizzically, concerned, and perturbed by what was going on. He shook him by the shoulders, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“What? What did he say?” Hyun asked.

“He said…” Marcus swallowed. “Cairo. He said that they are from Cairo.”

“Cairo?” Hyun asked, unconvinced. Then, the realization sunk in. “But that would mean…”

“Yes. As in Egypt.” Marcus swallowed hard again. “I think they were brought here. Like us.”

“From the storm?” Hyun asked.

“Yes,” the man in the blue thawb answered. “Big storm. Monstrous. Swallowed cities, left nothing but dust. Women gone.”

Marcus couldn’t find a word to say, head spinning a little, mildly dazed, waited for his head to clear.

“Women went, too?” The man asked almost fearfully.

But Marcus and the others' deafening silence confirmed what they long feared.