Pulling his tactical vest back on and taking his gun in hand, Fletcher stepped out of his bedroom and back into the familiar hallway. He took his time walking back through the base as he made his way up the runway where the jeep waited with the bomb. These marked some of his final moments, so Fletcher kept his pace slower than usual so he could enjoy his last stroll through the halls which had been his home for the last four and a half months.

  Fletcher didn’t regret his decision to do this. It had to be someone, and he was the most obvious choice. Not only was he most familiar with the ruins after all his solo patrols, but in truth, Fletcher didn’t believe there was anyone else who would be willing to make this kind of sacrifice. The soldiers at Vesi Station weren’t exactly the most noble breed, and he’d learned for himself several times how little they cared about anything but their own hides.

  It was for the best anyway that he went through with it. Fletcher had spent so much of his life making bold claims about detesting war and violence, but when push came to shove, he was no better than anyone else. He killed to save his own life. Heck, he killed in hopes of saving other people’s lives too, going far beyond self-defense. He was a giant hypocrite, and it was better that someone with such a stained soul quit life earlier rather than later. Less time to add to his sins.

  Of course, that didn’t change the fact that his last act in life would be killing dozens of other people. Just one more blot to carry with him into whatever came next, but there were worse fates than dying in the name of protecting others. He could fully convert, becoming a shell of what he once was, leaving his body and soul intact without him actually there. Like George.

  Fletcher gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of experiencing one-hundred percent conversion. Yeah. He would much rather die, even if blowing up was low on his list of preferred ways to go.

  He paused at the door leading outside to where his fate waited. He’d written to his family and friends, he’d made peace with himself, and he left clear instructions that Sergeant Hugo was to be in charge in his place. There was nothing else that needed his attention. It was time.

  Fletcher stepped outside, glancing up at the dark sky. Dawn would be coming in a few hours so he needed to leave soon since darkness would be his only cover for this mission. The jeep waited near the gate, the back of it loaded with the large device that would hopefully soon devastate the Unhuman forces. It marked their single chance at survival.

  Almost everyone still living in the station stood nearby, one final sendoff for the hail mary mission that might save their lives. Hugo, Norton, and Hernandez were closest to the jeep, the three next most “in-charge” people at the station since they stepped up to handle things, regardless of rank.

  Hugo walked up to him, half-burned cigarette between his teeth. “Dixon, do you have the map?”

  Fletcher held up the paper. “Yes. It wouldn’t make sense to leave without it.”

  “Walk me through your plan. Every detail,” he said. He then held out a cigarette. “And here, take one. If you’re going to die anyway, you might as well live a little.”

  Fletcher raised an eyebrow, accepting the offering since the man made a good point. “I’m not sure that’s a good use of time. I need to get going before the sun starts to rise.”

  “If you’re going to be our only chance of living another day, I want to make sure you thought of everything,” Hugo argued.

  Acknowledging that it was technically a smart plan, Fletcher shared his whole plan with Hugo, including pointing to where he noticed defenses and scout posts earlier when he surveyed the Unhuman camp. Fletcher tried the whole smoking thing again, finding it a little easier this time.

  Hugo repeated it back to him, confirming every little detail and step.

  “Yeah. That’s basically it. Do you see any problems with it?” Fletcher asked once he finished.

  “No. It’s a solid plan. I feel confident I can execute it,” Hugo said, spitting the stub of the cigarette from his mouth on the ground.

  “Huh?” Fletcher asked, removing his as well and tossing it to the concrete below.

  “I’m not about to send a half-deaf, partially injured, sparky lieutenant out on the most important mission of everyone’s lives,” he continued.

  “That’s not your decision.” Fletcher wasn’t about to let Hugo take this on. For one thing, this was the guy who abandoned him to get eaten by a cycat when he showed up to the station, so he didn’t have all that much confidence that he was a good enough person for something like this.

  “Sorry, Dixon. We’re all in agreement. It’s not going to be you,” Hugo said.

  Fletcher reached for his map which Hugo still held. “I’m doing this, Hugo. That’s an order.”

  Two sets of arms grabbed Fletcher’s, pulling him back a step. Norton and Hernandez.

  Hugo chuckled. “Lieutenant Asshole, at it again.”

  “Now is not the time for some stupid coup,” Fletcher said. “Think about what you’re saying. Why would you volunteer for a suicide mission? And it does have to be a suicide mission. We can’t risk the Unhumans finding and disarming the bomb.”

  He smiled. “I know. I’m aware of what I’m signing up for.”

  “Hugo—”

  “I joined the military because when I was a kid, I watched the Unhumans raze my entire village. We were a group of Humans who refused to live in the zoos they called colonies. So they killed most of us and took the kids to conversion facilities. I can’t think of anything I hate more than a dirty freak,” the man said.

  “So you’re willing to do this in hopes of some kind of payback?” Fletcher asked, still straining against the arms that held him.

  “I fight for hate. Most of us do. But I heard that little speech you gave George, Dixon. You’re better than the rest of us. You fight for love and hope and things that I’ve never believed in.” Hugo’s voice was softer now. “The world needs more people like you, not less. You came to a hellhole and made something out of it. I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed someone as brilliant as you to die for a scumbag like me. I’m part [Ghoul]. I’ll be lucky to live another five years anyway. I’m going because I volunteered, and if it wasn’t me, it would be someone else. Anyone but you.”

  “We all agreed on that,” Norton said from behind him.

  “Sorry, Lieutenant, but on this point, you’re overruled,” Hernandez added.

  “You’re hope, Dixon. Real hope, the kind that never fails. I won’t see you waste your life.” Hugo nodded at him, his black eyes full of more emotion than Fletcher had ever seen from the normally callous, aloof man.

  Fletcher was caught between anger and relief and fear. But it didn’t matter how much he pleaded with them to change their minds. Hugo was the one who got in the jeep, gave a rousing cheer to the others, and then drove off into the night. He’d taken Fletcher’s fate. In an unexpected turn of events, something he never could have seen coming, the people of Vesi Station had his back.

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  The radio on his vest cackled to life, interrupting all the thoughts swirling through his mind.

  “Unhumans incoming,” the man on guard said.

  Norton took control of the situation before Fletcher could even open his mouth.

  “The freaks are attacking. Let’s give them a good show to keep them from finding Hugo. Everyone to position!” she yelled. “Keep the lights off for the next ten minutes to give Hugo cover.”

  The group dissipated as they ran to take their places behind the temporary defensive walls, composed of all sorts of odd materials ranging from spare parts to boxes of rations.

  The first sound of gunfire snapped Fletcher from his stupor, and he rushed to be with his troops. This wasn’t over yet. It would take Hugo time to get into position and arm the device, so they had to keep the Unhumans busy for a while.

  “They’re coming from the catacombs,” Nguyen’s voice said from the radio.

  “Crap.” Fletcher glanced around. They were already low on manpower, and the Unhumans must have recognized it. “Hernandez, get a team to go back up Nguyen!”

  “Aye, sir!” The man grabbed three soldiers near him and took off back into the base.

  “They’re over here!” someone screamed from across the way, and Fletcher turned to see Unhumans attacking at their flank as well. They were hitting them from all sides.

  “Norton, cover the back. Guzmon, keep guard on the sky,” Fletcher ordered. He hefted his rifle and focused on the front where most of their enemies waited. He fired off several bullets, downing a couple of Unhumans, but it was hard to properly engage with them when they were fighting in the dark. But they couldn't risk turning on the floodlights if Hugo was going to have a chance of making it into the city.

  People screamed, explosions rocked the ground, bullets flew through the air, and Fletcher fell back into his command position, issuing orders and keeping things organized as they fended off what would hopefully be the final attack.

  “At the ruins. Nearly out of range. Good luck.” Hugo’s voice was choppy and faint.

  Fletcher only heard it because he had his radio’s volume all the way up.

  “Good luck, Hugo. And thank you,” Fletcher said into it, his fighting trance broken for a moment.

  Norton must have heard it too since she got the floodlights on, illuminating the battlefield to even things out for the Mixed.

  With the lights on and the [Skill]-shield active, the Unhumans were at a disadvantage, even with their superior numbers. But for every Unhuman they killed, it felt like two took their place. As another body dropped beside him, Fletcher lost hope that they would survive this, and somewhere inside, he doubted that Hugo was actually going to fulfill the mission. He should have fought harder to be the one to do it. They might all be doomed because he gave into his desire to live just a little longer. What did it matter?

  A [Dragonist] broke through the wall and tackled Fletcher to ground, the two of them fighting over his rifle. Nobody came to his aid as more Unhumans poured through the opening. Vesi Station was going to fall anyway. It didn’t matter. Fletcher’s mind went to thinking on how best to ensure his own death to avoid going to a conversion facility. The [Dragonist’s] heavy breath washed over him, but then something deep rumbled the ground, and an explosion sounded that drowned out all other sounds, even the ringing in his ears.

  Light lit up the entire sky for a few moments.

  The earth shook more, and anyone who was still on their feet were knocked down. The last bits of the defenses fell, scattering across the cement. It was bright enough that it could have been morning. Then the rush of sound faded away alongside the light, and the ground stilled.

  Hugo did it. He set the bomb off.

  Shouting took the place of the explosion, and the [Dragonist] on top of him suddenly released her hold and scampered back through the hole she’d come through.

  Fletcher sat up and looked around to see all the Unhumans retreating. That did it. The explosion must have taken out someone or something important for them to all run away this fast, but he was just happy to be alive.

  Cheering broke out among his people as Fletcher dropped his rifle to the ground, watching the sun rise in the distance over the smoky ruins. Vesi Station survived, but he wouldn’t forget the lives of all those who died to see that outcome. He glanced around at the ground to see all the Unhuman bodies littering it. So many lives wasted on both sides. Standing up, Fletcher pushed all the worries in his mind to the side. The Unhumans were running now, but that didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t coming back.

  Fletcher shouted down the celebration and got people to focus back on their original task. They had to clean up bodies, check on the catacombs, and reestablish a guard schedule. As much as he wanted to believe that they’d pushed the Unhumans back for good, he wouldn’t allow this to lull them into a false sense of confidence. He’d allow them to relax only once he was positive there was no more danger, and even then they couldn’t fall back into their old ways. He didn’t know why the Unhumans attacked Vesi in the first place, but he would make sure that if it happened again, they would be more prepared.

  Almost everyone seemed to understand his thought process without him outlining it in detail, so they followed his orders with any pushback. A few of the soldiers muttered complaints under their breath, but Fletcher couldn’t discern exactly what they were saying, and he had bigger problems anyway.

  The sun fully rose as they all worked to put the base back in some kind of order. More dog tags were added to the collection they already had, and more bodies were piled up, waiting to be properly addressed. With the light of day, Fletcher got a clear look at the ruins and the new destruction laid to them. Several of the central structures which had once been clearly visible were gone completely from the skyline. A subtle change, but one that struck a nerve in Fletcher. Even the broken city was permanently changed after the battle, and he knew that something inside him was different, different in a way he could never go back to who he was before.

  There was no sign of the Unhumans the rest of the day. Or the next night. Or the next day. As the second night of peace descended, Fletcher finally had to admit that they might have truly won. His suicide plan—which Hugo took over, that idiot—actually worked. He pulled Norton and Hernandez to the side and asked their opinions. They were in agreement.

  “Gather everyone. I want to talk to them up on the airstrip,” Fletcher said. “Leave a guard at the catacombs with a radio, just in case.”

  They both nodded and went to fulfill the order as Fletcher made his way to the airstrip and found a crate sturdy enough to hold his weight. People slowly trickled outside, and once Norton and Hernandez exited the building, he assumed that everyone was there.

  Fletcher stepped up on the crate. “Everyone, can I have your attention for a moment?”

  Dozens of eyes looked up at him, people who followed him in the thick of battle despite the fact he had no real experience in it. They trusted him, and it sort of worked out. Images of corpses of those who also trusted him and weren’t so lucky flashed in his mind.

  “Dixon?” Norton asked.

  Fletcher swallowed against his tight throat. “I’ve been told I’m an overly cautious person, something you’ve all experienced first-hand the past couple of days.”

  Chuckles rose up from the crowd, especially from Norton and Hernandez who worked directly under him.

  “But I think I can finally admit that this is all over. The Unhumans are gone. And I know it took a lot of personal sacrifice. Many of our comrades gave their lives for this outcome, and I’d like to take a moment of silence in recognition of that,” he continued.

  People shuffled on their feet, faces pointed down as a deep quiet settled over the crowd. Fletcher slowly counted to twenty and then broke the silence.

  “Thank you. Now while I’d love to give you all a very long vacation, unfortunately that won’t be possible. There’s work still to be done, but tonight…” He paused. “Tonight, we celebrate. We won, boys and girls. We won!”

  Cheering came from the crowd as everyone clapped each other on the back and hugged. Fletcher stepped off his crate and shook hands with those who reached out to him. Norton called for the last of the drinks—though there wasn’t much alcohol to be had and the moonshine equipment was among the first to be used in the defensive wall—and everyone ran back inside, still laughing and joking.

  Fletcher watched them go, and once they were all inside, he slung his rifle from his back and started a steady patrol along the mangled fence. They deserved to celebrate, but Fletcher didn’t want to partake. He didn’t want to remember those who died, and he certainly didn’t want to toast to the deaths of the Unhumans, people who he still couldn’t hate, even after everything.

  He winced as visions of all the death replayed in his head, but Fletcher shut them off by listing out all the tasks that needed to be handled inside the station and in the surrounding area. He also went ahead and lit another cigarette, finding that the nicotine helped him relax at least a little, making it easier to keep his to-do list in his head. There were a million and one things to do, and now he had the time to do them all.

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