CHAPTER FIFTEEN- BATTLE OF ENDECOTT: PART 2

  Saturday 12th May, 2018- ENDECOTT FOREST STATE PARK, STATE OF WILLOW, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  (1:49 PM)

  As the gang headed downstream towards Echo Station they could hear screaming, gunshots and growls, with smoke bellowing from the Horizon as they reached the cliffside above Echo Station. The Artist, Claire, James and Kaitlyn pressed forward; their footsteps muffled by the damp forest floor. As they approached the cliffside, the unmistakable sounds of chaos met their ears— screaming, gunshots and guttural growls, echoing off the trees. Smoke billowed from the horizon, rising from the valley below where Echo Station stood— or what was left of it.

  “My God”, James muttered under his breath as the gang reached the cliff’s edge.

  Kaitlyn, already crouched by a nearby boulder, pulled out a pair of binoculars from her pack. She scanned the burning building below and handed them to The Artist. “Take a look”, she said, her voice grim.

  The Artist raised the binoculars to their eyes and peered down at Echo Station. The building, once a sturdy sanctuary, was now a crumbling inferno. Fire licked at the wooden frame, smoke obscuring parts of the structure as it was rapidly consumed by flames. Park rangers, dressed in their standard green-shaded uniforms, leaned out of shattered windows, taking aim at the Hollows swarming below.

  The creatures, twisted and monstrous, ran on all fours unnaturally fast, their grotesque forms blurring as they pounced on anything that moved. Through the binoculars The Artist could see two rangers desperately fighting back, firing from different windows. Each shot they fired seemed to buy them a momentary reprieve, but it wasn’t enough to stop the inevitable.

  “Damn it”, Claire whispered, her voice taut with anger and concern.

  The Artist watched in horror as some of the surviving escapees from within the station began to panic. Driven by the choking heat and impending collapse of the building, they leapt from windows, desperate to escape the flames. But as they hit the ground, the Hollows were on them in seconds, savagely tearing into their flesh, their inhuman growls drowning out the victims’ screams. Blood sprayed across the dirt as the beasts devoured their prey with sickening efficiency.

  “No”, The Artist muttered, watching helplessly, “No, don’t run”.

  One of the park rangers, still firing from the window, echoed the sentiment with a shout. “NO! DON’T GO!!!”, he screamed, his voice frantic as he took aim at a Hollow that had just torn into an escapee. He fired, the bullet connecting with the creature’s side, but it barely slowed the beast down. The desperate rangers tried to provide cover for those attempting to flee, but it was no use. Those who managed to escape the immediate reach of the Hollows were quickly hunted down, their bodies mauled and left broken in the dirt.

  From their vantage point on the cliff, The gang watched in despair as a few of the panicked escapees, realizing their deadly mistake, turned and ran back into the burning station. Flames poured from the windows and doors, but it seemed they preferred to face the fire than the Hollows prowling outside.

  The creatures ignored those who returned to the station, focusing instead on those who had ventured too far. The smoke thickened, and the stench of burning wood and charred flesh filled the air.

  “SOMEBODY HELP US!!!”, a voice rang out from within the inferno, cracking with desperation. The sound of gunfire was punctuated by more screams. “GOD HELP US!!! GOD PLEASE!!!”, another voice cried, muffled by the roar of the flames.

  “HELP!!! HELP!!!”, another cried, this one sounding younger than the rest.

  James clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he stood on the edge of the cliff, watching the carnage unfold below. “We can’t just stand here”, he growled, his voice shaking with barely restrained fury.

  Kaitlyn lowered the binoculars, her face pale, “It’s madness down there. Those things…they’re everywhere”.

  Claire nodded, her mind working quickly, “We need to lure the Hollows away from the station. If we can get their attention, we might be able to give the survivors a fighting chance”.

  James unslung his AR-15, checking the magazine. “What’s the plan, then?! Draw them out and hit them hard?!”.

  Kaitlyn, still holding the binoculars, spoke up. “There’s a clearing down by the stream, not far from the station. If we can get them to follow us there, we might have more space to fight”, she glanced at the others, “But it’s risky. We’ll be out in the open”.

  “We’re running out of time”, The Artist said, their voice tight with urgency, “We either go now, or those people burn alive”.

  Claire looked at each of them, her eyes hardening, “Alright. We move fast, stay low, and take out as many of those things as we can. James, you’re with me. Kate and company give us cover”.

  (1:52 PM)

  Claire and James wasted no time. They sprinted down the slope from the cliffside, dodging the trees and loose rocks as they closed in on the burning Echo Station. The growls of the Hollows reverberated in the distance, growing louder with each passing second. They reached a point where they could see the flaming building clearly, the searing heat nearly unbearable even from a distance.

  “Hold on tight!”, Claire shouted over the noise, her voice strained with concentration. She muttered an incantation, and in an instant, both she and James vanished in a shimmer of dark smoke, reappearing with a crack of displaced air inside the crumbling structure.

  James blinked as the disorienting feeling of teleportation washed over him. They were now standing in the middle of the inferno. Smoke poured from the walls, the fire creeping up to consume every inch of the building. The screams of the survivors echoed around them. Without a second thought, Claire dashed toward the nearest group of people huddled in the corner. They looked up in terror at the sudden appearance of Claire and James.

  “Come with me if you want to live!”, Claire barked, urgency dripping from her words. Without waiting for a response, she grabbed two of them by the arms and teleported back outside, returning them to safety near the cliffside slope where The Artist and Kaitlyn stood above.

  Back on the ridge, Kaitlyn handed The Artist a sniper rifle— the SVD Dragunov. Its sleek barrel gleamed, and the weight of the weapon felt balanced in The Artist’s hands.

  “I’ve already loaded those special bullets Claire gave me”, Kaitlyn said, her eyes scanning the forest ahead, “Holy and Occulirium rounds. It uses 7.62mm Soviet rounds— plenty of power and range. You won’t need to worry about the scope either, it’s zeroed in. I’ll be your spotter”.

  The Artist nodded, dropping to a knee and positioning themselves on a stable perch overlooking the battlefield. They peered through the scope, scanning the chaos below. Kaitlyn stood beside them, raising her binoculars.

  “Got movement near the southeast wall”, Kaitlyn pointed out, “Two Hollows, running on all fours. Take the shot”.

  The Artist steadied their breath, aligning the crosshairs with the fast-moving creatures. With a calm squeeze of the trigger, the rifle fired. A sharp crack pierced the air as the bullet soared through the flames, finding its target. The first Hollow crumpled, the Holy-infused round burning into its chest. The creature let out a bone-chilling screech, thrashing in agony as the Holy essence ignited its decaying form.

  “Direct hit!”, Kaitlyn exclaimed, “One more to the right. Go!”.

  The Artist shifted their aim, spotting the second Hollow as it lunged toward a group of survivors trying to flee from the back entrance. The shot rang out again, and the second Hollow collapsed, twitching as the Occulirium in the bullet disrupted its dark magick, rendering it powerless.

  Meanwhile, inside the station, James stayed behind, his AR-15 at the ready. He positioned himself near the remaining park rangers, who were doing their best to hold off the relentless waves of Hollows. Flames roared around them, the heat pressing in from all sides.

  “Let’s lay down some cover!”, James shouted to the rangers, switching his rifle to full-auto mode. He opened fire, sending a hailstorm of bullets toward the Hollows that prowled outside the windows. The Holy and Occulirium-infused rounds tore into the creatures, causing them to screech and stagger. Blackened wounds marred their bodies, the sacred bullets burning through their putrid flesh.

  With every shot, the creatures seemed to weaken, their unholy strength waning as the magick that sustained them faltered. One Hollow, its body now covered in festering wounds, let out a pitiful moan before collapsing to the ground in a heap of decayed matter.

  Between James’ relentless assault from inside the station and The Artist’s precision sniping from the ridge, the Hollows began to falter. Their once-coordinated attacks grew disjointed, confused. The combined pressure from two fronts overwhelmed them, forcing the creatures to retreat in disarray.

  “Another one down!”, The Artist called out, as yet another Hollow fell to their sniper fire.

  On the ridge, Kaitlyn watched through her binoculars, her brow furrowing as she observed the Hollows’ behavior, “They’re pulling back. You’re confusing them. Keep it up”.

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  James reloaded his rifle, his breathing heavy but steady. The floor beneath him creaked ominously as the fire continued to eat away at the structure. The rangers beside him kept firing, but their ammunition was running low. One of them, a younger man, glanced nervously toward James.

  “We can’t hold out much longer!”, he shouted over the roar of the flames.

  James grit his teeth, glancing around at the burning walls, “We don’t need to hold forever. Just enough time for Claire to get everyone out”.

  Outside, Claire reappeared once more, teleporting another group of survivors back to the ridge, urging them to take cover near The Artist and Kaitlyn. The strain of teleporting multiple times was starting to show on her, her face pale and glistening with sweat.

  “I’ve got four more”, she panted, already preparing to dive back into the inferno. “I’m going back for the rest”.

  As she vanished again, The Artist took aim at yet another Hollow, pulling the trigger just as the creature lunged toward a park ranger trying to escape. The bullet struck true, and the Hollow collapsed mid-leap, crumpling into a heap before it could claim another victim.

  “Gotcha”, The Artist muttered, watching the battlefield through the scope.

  But the battle wasn’t over yet. More Hollows still lurked in the shadows, and as the inferno raged, the gang knew they were running out of time. They had to push harder, fight faster, and hope that their efforts were enough to save the remaining survivors before Echo Park Ranger Station fell into ashes.

  The building was on its last legs. Flames licked at the remaining beams of Echo Station, sending chunks of burning wood and debris crashing to the ground. Inside, Claire worked swiftly, darting through the crumbling structure and teleporting out the last of the park rangers. One moment she was surrounded by smoke and fire, and in the next, she was back on the slope next to the cliffside with the survivors, urging them to go to Kaitlyn and The Artist.

  As Claire reappeared for the final time, she collapsed onto her knees, her face pale from exhaustion. The rest of the park rangers, covered in ash and sweat, scrambled to join the crowd of survivors already huddled by the cliffside.

  Kaitlyn’s eyes darted over the growing group, relief flooding her features. “That’s everyone, right?”, she asked, turning to The Artist, who was still scanning the battlefield with their sniper rifle.

  The Artist nodded, “Yeah, that’s everyone”. Lowering the rifle, they handed the Dragunov back to Kaitlyn. “You should take them and get out of here. Lead them back through the woods. We’ll stay behind and deal with the rest of the Hollows”, they said.

  Kaitlyn stared at The Artist for a moment, worry flickering in her eyes, “Are you sure? You’ve done enough already. You should come with us”.

  The Artist shook their head, “No, we need to make sure these things don’t follow you. We’ll finish them off. You need to get these people to safety”.

  Kaitlyn hesitated but then nodded. She took the rifle and slung it over her shoulder, turning to the group of survivors. “Alright, everyone, follow me!”, she called, rallying them as she led them into the woods. “Good luck”, she said to The Artist over her shoulder as she disappeared into the trees, the crowd of survivors in tow.

  The Artist watched them leave for a brief moment, then turned back toward the burning station. The air was thick with smoke, and the growls of the remaining Hollows could still be heard over the crackling of the flames. Without wasting another second, The Artist moved closer to the slope. They closed their eyes, chanting the Sinok word, “Ixnea”. the ancient tongue of magick flowing through them as they cast the Shift spell. In a blur of black smoke, they teleported to the clearing just outside the now-collapsed Echo Station, where James and Claire were still holding their ground.

  James was emptying the last of his AR-15’s magazine, firing in short, controlled bursts at the Hollows that darted between the trees. His eyes flickered toward The Artist as they appeared next to him. “About time!”, he shouted over the gunfire.

  The Artist unslung their M1897 shotgun, loaded with incendiary 12-Gauge Shells. Without hesitation, they joined the fight, unleashing the fury of the trench gun, slam firing round after round into the approaching Hollows. Each blast set the creatures ablaze, the flames licking up their twisted, decaying bodies as they writhed in pain.

  Claire, her energy nearly spent, was using her last reserves of magick to cast a series of red lightning bolts that chained from Hollow to Hollow, stunning them long enough for James and The Artist to finish them off. She cast Delid, a shimmering shield spell, around James and The Artist as they reloaded their weapons, the protective barrier deflecting the frenzied strikes of the Hollows.

  But the strain was starting to show. As Claire focused on maintaining the shield, a Hollow lunged at her from behind, its jagged claws raised for the kill. The Artist caught sight of the attack just in time and swung the shotgun around, blasting the creature away with a powerful shot that sent it tumbling across the ground. With a second shot, they finished it off, blowing apart its twisted face.

  “Thanks”, Claire muttered, panting heavily, her legs trembling from fatigue.

  “We need to move”, James shouted, his voice tight with urgency, “They’re using the trees and smoke to ambush us. We can’t keep fighting like this!”.

  Claire nodded, struggling to catch her breath. “There’s an open clearing nearby…the one Kate mentioned early. We’ll have a better line of sight there”.

  “Then let’s go!”, The Artist urged, their eyes scanning the treeline as more Hollows began closing in.

  The trio broke into a run, pushing through the smoke and debris toward the clearing. But it didn’t take long for exhaustion to catch up with James and Claire. The relentless battle and magick usage had drained them, and they started to lag behind. The Artist could see that they wouldn’t make it at this pace.

  With a deep breath, The Artist reached out, drawing upon the last of their own strength. They closed their eyes and muttered, “Ixnea”. Once more, casting Shift on all three of them. In an instant, they teleported to the edge of the clearing, stumbling slightly as the spell drained them of nearly all their energy.

  The open clearing was a stark contrast to the chaos they had left behind. The thick trees and smoke were now behind them, and in front of them lay a wide-open space surrounded by boulders that provided decent cover.

  “Take cover!”, The Artist shouted, pushing James and Claire behind one of the large rocks as the remaining Hollows charged toward them.

  They barely had time to catch their breath before the creatures arrived, their snarling forms silhouetted against the backdrop of the burning station. With no trees or smoke to hide in, the Hollows were fully exposed. This was their chance to make their last stand.

  “Here they come”, James muttered, reloading his AR-15, his hands shaking from adrenaline and fatigue.

  The Artist reloaded the M1897, their eyes fixed on the oncoming creatures, “Let’s finish this”.

  The trio braced themselves behind the boulders as the Hollows charged, preparing for one final desperate fight.

  (3:23 PM)

  As The Artist, Claire, and James hunkered down behind the boulders, the battle raged on. The Hollows continued their relentless charge, their twisted forms illuminated by the dying light of the burning station behind them. James kept firing, his AR-15 spitting rounds as fast as he could reload, while Claire downed a large glass flask of a Reflex Potion, the light green liquid quickly restoring some of her magickal stamina, as it sloshed around in its transparent container.

  Suddenly, a loud crack rang through the air— a shot that only someone familiar with military-grade rifles would recognize. The Artist turned instinctively toward the source of the sound and spotted movement to their left. There, on the cliffside, Kaitlyn had returned, her SVD Dragunov perched on the edge, its barrel smoking as she took aim at another Hollow. Beside her was one of the park rangers Claire had rescued earlier, holding a pair of binoculars.

  The Artist smirked. “Kaitlyn has her own spotter now”, they mused, taking in the scene.

  “Looks like we’ve got some backup!”, James shouted excitedly, his energy surging as he unleashed a fresh barrage of bullets on the approaching Hollows. The combination of The Artist’s shotgun blasts, James’s rifle fire and Kaitlyn’s sniper shots from above began to slow the onslaught. The once-coordinated creatures were now staggering, thrashing in confusion as the Holy and Occulirium-infused rounds seared through them. Some of the Hollows screeched in agony, collapsing as the sanctified bullets burned away their twisted forms.

  For a brief moment, The Artist allowed themselves to feel a flicker of hope. The tide was turning. With Kaitlyn’s support from the cliffside and James’s relentless firing, they felt unstoppable. Claire, her strength slowly returning, was preparing to cast another barrage of lightning spells. It seemed that no matter how many Hollows came at them, they could take them all on.

  And then, without warning, a bright blue light streaked across the sky. It hissed through the air like a missile, catching everyone’s attention.

  “What the hell?”, The Artist muttered, eyes tracking the strange light as it soared overhead.

  It wasn’t long before the blue light exploded with a deafening bang. The sound was so intense that The Artist’s, Claire’s and James’ ears rang painfully, and the shockwave seemed to ripple through the forest. Even Kaitlyn and her partner by the cliffside stopped firing, momentarily stunned by the sudden explosion. The Hollows, too, froze in their tracks, their frenzied attacks halting as they looked toward the sky in confusion.

  But the worst was yet to come. From the site of the explosion, a fine, dust-like substance began to rain down from the sky. The Artist, Claire and even the Hollows were caught beneath it. At first, it seemed harmless— just a strange blue powder falling from the heavens. But as the blue dust settled on their exposed skin, a sharp stinging sensation followed.

  The Artist grimaced, rubbing their arms as the dust coated them. “What is this stuff…”, they began, but the words were cut off as the pain intensified. The stinging grew into a searing agony that sent them sprawling onto the ground, clutching at their skin as the dust continued to fall. Beside them, Claire was screaming, her hands over her face as the blue powder burned wherever it touched.

  The Hollows, too, were reeling from the effects, thrashing and howling in confusion. It seemed that whatever was in the blue dust affected them just as much as it did The Artist and Claire.

  James, however, remained unaffected. He looked down at his friends in alarm, seeing them writhing in pain while he remained immune. “Guys! Guys!”, he shouted, dropping his rifle as he knelt beside them, trying to shield them from the dust with his body, “What’s happening? Hold on, I’ll get you out of here!”.

  But his voice was drowned out by the arrival of more flares. Three, then four more bright blue lights shot across the sky, each followed by a loud bang and more of the strange burning powder. The entire area was quickly engulfed in the blue dust, turning the battlefield into a scene of chaos and confusion.

  Suddenly, voices, harsh and aggressive. Began to echo through the forest. They were shouting in French, their words filled with anger and fervor.

  “TUEZ-LES!!! — (KILL THEM!!!)”, one voice shouted in French.

  Another shouted in French, “POURRITURE EN ENFER!!! — (ROT IN HELL!!!)”.

  “DéMONS!!! — (DEMONS!!!)”, then another in French.

  And another in French, “AU NOM DE DIEU!!! — (IN GOD’S NAME!!!)”.

  The Artist, still writhing in pain, barely registered the meaning of the words, but the sound of marching boots and rustling leaves indicated that these voices were drawing closer. Dozens of footsteps could be heard, as if an army had descended upon the forest, surrounding the trio and the remaining Hollows.

  James, desperately trying to pull both Claire and The Artist to their feet, looked around in panic. “We’ve got to move, now!”, he yelled, though his voice seemed to fall on deaf ears. The blue dust was too much for Claire and The Artist to bear, and they couldn’t focus on anything but the searing pain coursing through their bodies.

  The footsteps grew louder, and the French voices screamed in unison. A group of heavily armed figures emerged from the trees, their faces and bodies obscured by gas masks and steel armor. They held rifles outfitted with bayonets, and the crosses etched into their armor glinted in the fading light.

  With military precision, they surrounded the trio, rifles raised. James, realizing there was no escape, stood protectively over Claire and The Artist, his heart racing as he prepared for whatever came next.

  “AU NOM DE DIEU!!! — (IN GOD’S NAME!!!)”, one of the soldiers shouted, raising his rifle high.

  And then, without hesitation, the rest charged.