The humans arrived just barely after true dusk. They were all wearing their helmets. They were also wearing what were obviously weapons. Harley had a rifle strapped to her back, Egbert had what looked like an actual warhammer, and Strider had his sword. Even Lalonde had what looked like a small pistol hanging off her hip in addition to the usual daysr. They weren't huge, compared to some adult trolls, but they were definitely soldiers. The way they held themselves belied some kind of training, or at least practice. Lalond kept to the front, Egbert and Harley flanked her, and Strider took up the rear. They were on high alert. Was it possible they were expecting an ambush?
It was a miracle that people had managed to survive this close to the Rifts for so long. That’s what the preacher said. Eric looked over the warped houses, patched up with God-knows-what and occasionally seeming to move, and thought there was probably a better word for it. No one in their right mind lived on the front lines.
And here I am, he thought.
Gunshots broke him out of his thoughts. West. Eric signaled to the men behind him. They moved out, too quick to be silent.
They found the preacher’s body in front of a large house. His gun was three meters away.
“Search the area!”
Eric’s men spread out. He and Lt. Carver approached the house. The preacher had gone on ahead to talk to the residents. Stupid. The house’s door had a black X painted on it. The windows were painted over. Marked.
“We need backup.”
