After enduring the bite of a dozen different strikes, the handle of Flynn’s shovel splintered leaving the shovel head buried in a corpse’s neck. Gripping the ruined shaft, Flynn refused to relent in his assault. He bludgeoned each attacker, snapping bone and caving in skulls.
The cabin door thumped.
Moira, gripping her bloodied shoulder with one hand, reached into her coat with the other and pulled out her last loaded pistol. She shot a corpse as it pulled its blade back to stab Flynn in the back.
The door thumped again.
Moira dropped the pistol. A revenant turned to her and pulled its blade back. Moira raised her blunderbuss to block.
The door burst open, swinging on its hinges and slammed Moira against the cabin wall. The tip of the undead’s blade punched through the wood to stop mere inches from her face.
Fergus roared. “Inside now.”
Moira slide out from behind the door and witnessed as Fergus swung his hammer around him, obliterating multiple foes with a single swing. He grabbed Flynn by the collar and pulled him towards the door.
“Don’t be a fool lieutenant, get inside. Hunteress.” He grabbed Moira and shoved her through the door. She sucked air through her teeth as a fresh wave of pain spiked through her arm at the sudden, violent movement.
Fergus smashed away the weapons of the undead as he backed up into the cabin. Once he was in, he grabbed the door and slammed it shut. Snatching a thick block of wood off the floor he slammed it in the latch and hammered it in further.
The hoard hissed and battered against the door.
Fergus let out a breath and turned to Moira and Flynn. “What a fucking mess. Are you both alright?”
“Flynn.” Moira cried as she rushed to him.
Fergus gripped his hammer in both hands. “Is he dead?”
Moira placed a hand on his chest. She could feel the heat radiating off of him through her glove. His chest heaved with his breath and she felt the heavy beat of his heart.
She nodded. “He’s alive, but he needs help.”
Fergus looped his hammer into his belt and grabbed Flynn. With a grunt, Fergus hoisted him over his shoulder and pushed the cabin’s other door open with his foot.
He called into the air. “Get the priestess and any healing supplies we have left.”
One of the guards nodded and hopped off the roof before sprinting towards the church.
Moira slipped into another cabin as the captain marched off. She pushed the door closed with her good shoulder. A cloud of dust puffed into the air when she dropped onto the musky chair cushion.
She removed her hand from her shoulder. The blood had been reduced to a trickle, but was still bleeding. Moira winced as she slipped off her coat. Next came her shirt, she started with her good arm and her head, then sliding it off her bad shoulder. Moira folded the coat and draped it over her right shoulder, covering the scars that were bitten into her.
Moira tore strips of cloth torn from the forearms and stomach of her shirt. She wrapped the forearm strips around her shoulder. Finished, she slipped on her clothes, then looped the stomach cloth across her chest as a sling.
With a grunt, Moira lifted herself out to the chair and stumbled back out of the cabin.
“Where did you run off to?” Fergus asked marching up the path towards her.
“I needed some privacy. Where’s Flynn?”
“Right,” He crossed his arms as he came to a stop. “Flynn is back in your cabin.”
“Is he alright?”
“He’ll live, but he won’t be fighting fit for the next few months.” The captain sighed. “A real shame, he fights like he’s demon possessed. Could have used that kind of ferocity when we make the next escape.”
Moira’s eye’s widened. “You’re going to try again?”
Fergus shrugged. “Not much else we can do, the corpses have been chipping away at the barricades, we won’t hold them back much longer.”
Moira opened her mouth to protest, but Fergus held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m holding a meeting to plan the next attempt. If you’ve want to argue, we’ll do it then, we both have better things to do right now.”
The captain stormed off while Moira watched him leave. She frowned before rushing off to check on Flynn.
Moira stopped at the door of the building and rasped her knuckled against the door, waited a few seconds, then slid the door open.
The priestess was kneeling next to Flynn, muttering a prayer. Flynn was laying on the floor, a sheet was draped over his legs while his chest and arms were wrapped with bandages.
Moira closed the door and leaned against the wall, once the prayer was over she spoke.
“How is he?”
Muriel turned to Moira and gave a weak smile, her cheeks were tearstained and her eyes were red. “He’s alive-” She shook her head and sobbed. “All of this is such a horrible mess.”
Moira kneeled down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, we’ll get through this, I promise.”
The priestess whined. “Horrible just horrible.”
Moira patted her on the shoulder. “Go get some rest, I’ll watch over Flynn.”
Muriel nodded. “I will, thank you.” She stood and left.
Moira crawled over to the wall and sat next to Flynn’s head. His breath came out as a rasp and an expression of pain was stamped onto his face.
She leaned back and used her hand to wipe the sweat off his skin.
“Muriel was right Flynn, this whole thing is a mess, but we’re going to get through it. Both of us are.”
The tapping at the window counted down the hour that Moira sat there stroking Flynn’s hair as she listened to his ragged breaths and felt the cold draft breeze.
The squeak of wood against wood snatched Moira’s attention towards the window. Her hand stopped mid-stroke as the familiar hand clawed at the windowsill through the crack of the open window. Its flesh was torn from its third finger and its ring was gone.