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Once they’d dispatched the six bloodsuckers that had remained outside, including the three that had assaulted them when they left the first set of barracks on the way to the second, McKenna had done a head count. They were down to four scribes - two had been lost to another shadow manipulator before they’d put it down - and only five hunters. A few were injured, but the scribes were tending to their injuries. That left ten men including him and the ten women that were still safe in the barracks. Of the women, four of them were medics, including the head nurse, so their wounds would be mended, but that left the prospect of facing off against twenty or so bloodsuckers in confined quarters with little more than stakes and knives.
The five hunters he had left with him were a motley crew. Three of them were freshly graduated, little more than children, with one corporal and a senior sergeant. It was barely enough to fill out a squad, but they’d held their own. Despite their youth and inexperience, the kids had fought valiantly and managed to secure a couple of kills for themselves. One of them had a broken arm, which a medic was busily trying to set using his own clothes and a tree branch, while the other had some severe gashes across his chest. He’d surmised correctly that they’d decided to pair two animalists with a shadow maker, to maximize their advantage. It had worked very well, and he’d been forced to divide his attention from assisting the hunters directly to killing the shadow maker.
“Sergeant, gather the hunters and get them ready to move,” he said quietly. “We need to take the armory. If it’s going to be our last stand, we’re going to kill them all on the way out.” The hunter gave him a solemn nod, looking to the corporal and the young hunters. All of them were now acutely aware of just what they were fighting for. Their walls had been breached, and the likelihood that any of them would live to see dawn was quickly shrinking, but that didn’t change anything. They had taken a solemn oath to God Almighty to fight of the undead scourge, and they were ready to give their lives up to do it. Even the scribes knew what the stakes were.
Once the boy’s arm was set, he gathered the five together with him and motioned for them to form a wedge behind him. He’d take point across the lawn, and they’d make their way into the interior courtyard. He only had one magazine aside from the one that was in his pistol, and he needed to make every shot count. If it came down to it, he’d fight them with knife and stake, and, if that failed, he’d put them back in their graves with his bloody hands. They’d have to kill him to put him down. Quickly, they hurried across the lawn to the door leading into the interior courtyard. Without pausing to stop, he moved through, pistol at the ready, scanning back and forth.
They were inside, and it would only be a matter of time before they made it downstairs to their armory. The relics in there, along with the weaponry that were secured beside them, would spell certain doom for the Order if McKenna and his squad couldn’t get their hands on it first. He stacked the squad against the door and peeked around the corner.
The first floor had been dedicated to the typing pool. The once neatly lined rows of desks and filing cabinets were now in a state of total disarray. Papers had been flung left and right, and the half dozen bloodsuckers on the ground floor looked more than frustrated at not finding anything of value. That didn’t matter to McKenna; they could sort through paperwork all night and into the next day for all he cared. What did catch his attention was the fact the door that lead downstairs was unguarded and still locked. It was a heavy steel door, installed nearly a year ago, and he had the key in his pocket on a key ring. Not only could they get it open, but they could lock it behind them and force the beasts to engage them on their own terms.
He was about to move when the report of gunfire startled him. At the door on the opposite end of the building from him and his squad came several rounds. One of the bloodsuckers was felled instantly, and three of the others were struck close enough to their hearts that they fell to the ground. Despite the darkness within the room, he swore he could make out a cane in the doorway, propped against the ground to provide an assisted firing position.
“Sullivan!” McKenna called out, momentarily distracting the leeches that were being fired at and allowing the crippled councilman to take down another. That left two more, but the sound of footsteps rushing down the stairs indicated that more were on the way.
“Get down there, McKenna! Come on you bastards,” he shouted, taunting the creatures. “Gonna let a cripple beat you?” Without waiting for them to answer, he picked up his cane and retreated down the hall back to the building he’d come from as quickly as he could. The receding sound of a cane and footsteps clicking on the hardwood floor gave McKenna all the prompting he needed. Rushing through the doorway and across the few meters to the stairwell door, he snatched the key ring out of his pocket, finding the one he needed. The two that remained shouted out to their co-conspirators now flooding down the stairwell to take care of the hunters heading downstairs. The pressure was weighing down on him, but he kept his head down and shoved the key in the door, turning it. The lock unlatched without complaint, and he flung open the door. The hunters funneled down the stairwell as the rest of the monsters sprinted across the room, kicking through desks and typewriters. McKenna barely managed to shut the door behind him and lock it by the time they slammed into it. The hinges groaned, but they held; he counted almost a dozen monsters on the other side of that door.
Hurrying down the stairs, he made his way into the armory where the other hunters were waiting. Key chain in hand, he rushed to the first of the weapons lockers, unlocking the metal cage and letting each of them get a hold of the Thompson submachine guns they kept down there. He also opened the cage that held the two Browning BARs that they had on hand before rushing over to the ammunition locker. The sound of heavy weight slamming into the door electrified the blood rushing through his veins, and the adrenaline that was coursing through him heightened his senses and focused his resolve. With a quick twist, the locker was opened, and he barked at the hunters to load up as many rounds as they possibly could.
