The Wastelands (Part II of the Runner Series)

Chapter 3

I rise unsteadily to my feet, sand and rubble cascading off me. I pull my scarf up over my nose to protect my airway and try to force my mind into motion as I take in the situation.

Where in the eternal Burn is Will?

I leap at the building nearest me, traversing its facade, my hands and feet slipping on the loosened bricks. I reach the roof and heave myself up onto it, running in the direction of a still-standing portion of the Wall as I swing my bow out from around my back.

Until Will and the rest of the army show up there is nothing I can do but try to keep as many of the Wasters on the other side of the Wall for as long as possible.

The platform sways dangerously below my feet as I run toward the gap, halting just shy of the impact zone. I crouch down low and nock an arrow, sighting along the length of the weapon just as Will taught me.

My hands quiver slightly and I fight to clear my mind, staying focused on the area where the Wasters will soon be passing through. I think back to my training and try to concentrate on the mechanics of hitting my target, rather than who will be on the receiving end of my shot. I breathe slowly, watching and waiting.

From the depths of my trance I can dimly make out the sounds of our approaching army. Will's coming. He'll be here soon.

The swirling sand clears and a shadowed form moves through the dust. I adjust my aim slightly and release the arrow before I can second-guess myself, my heart stopping in my chest in the next moment.

Amongst the shouting and screaming I register a low utterance of pain and the form falls still. Instinctively I reach behind me and ready another arrow, loosing it the instant I get a clear shot on the next Waster. I fall back as something flies past my shoulder; the platform below my feet sways and cracks at the sudden movement.

I grip the platform tightly and scramble to my feet. My heart lurches back to life and pounds heavily against my ribcage as I leap from the scaffolding back to a building, where I duck and crouch behind the ledge.

In the fervor of battle I had almost completely forgotten that I had left myself entirely exposed to the enemy. I listen again for the sound of the horses and will myself up again to peer over the edge, nocking another arrow as I spy the few Waster front-runners scrambling over the rubble. I release my bowstring, cursing when the arrow bounces off the rocks. Taking a deep breath, I aim my next arrow more carefully. I will time to slow before firing, wincing when it hits its mark.

Something pings off the ledge behind me. I remain crouched as I scramble to the side of the building and leap across the street to the next ledge, landing in a roll so that I remain low.

I peer up and into the street, feeling a rush of relief when our army finally appears around the corner, Will at their head. The City dwellers rush headlong into the pile of rubble, swords drawn as they are met with the encroaching Wastelanders. I make my way across and to the platform on the other side of the gap, taking advantage of the distraction below and unleashing a couple more arrows over the Wasteland side of the Wall, cringing a little less each time one of my shots finds its target.

The horses push the Wastelanders back until the battle is no longer on the City side of the Wall. More and more of our citizens flood into the desert, meeting the Wastelander army with their weapons and torches raised. From my vantage point I can see how Will directs his troops to flank the Wasters from all sides, fanning out around them and cutting off their chances to circle around and attack us from behind.

The cool night air rings with the sound of clashing steel, arrows and spears, mingled continuously with the shouts of angry men and women screaming with pain and attacking savagely.