The Eyes Behind the Walls

Chapter Six - Taenin

"Fall back! Fall Back! Get over the walls now!" he shouted urgently.
He ran to the wall nearest to him and glanced up, trying to judge the height, but his face was pummeled by raindrops instead. He began climbing up, trying to move as fast as he could. His hands slipped off of the wet wall, sending him tumbling back down to the muddy ground below. He quickly scoured up the wall, being extra diligent about his hand placement this time. From the corner of his eye he could see a few other raiders trying to make their way up the walls. He crouched on top of the wall, turning back briefly and watching as a man grabbed John's leg and pulled him back down into the compound. John flailed, trying to grab on to the wall, but was pulled down into the mob below nonetheless. He turned and leapt off of the wall and out onto the other side, rolling on the ground in the wet grass. He quickly stood up and ran to the natural cover of the tree line. He watched as people flung themselves from the wall to safety, stumbling towards him in the near pitch-black darkness.
His shallow breath raced in and out, "Come on, we can't stay here," he huffed.
He turned and walked swiftly off into the night, shocked at the previous encounter's results. The group trudged off, much smaller than they had been when they arrived, and in much worse shape.
"How many of us are left?" Taenin asked frustratedly.
"I've only seen Christopher, Tybalt, and Gregory," Dean said, completely out of breath, "Most of them are pretty badly hurt. Chris broke his leg jumping off of the wall and Gregory got stabbed repeatedly in his chest. Tybalt was stabbed and cut up badly, too. We won't be able to travel very fast for their sake."
Taenin turned around and looked at everyone limping behind. Dean was right, if they didn't get medical attention soon, they wouldn't last very long, he thought.
"Wait, wait, I'm here," she said as she came jogging through the trees.
She gasped for air, her legs sluggishly dragging across the ground.
"Ezra! You're alive. I can't believe it," Dean replied, "Are you alright? What happened?"
"I'm fine, just a few cuts and bruises is all."
"Alright, that's enough chit-chat, we need to get back to the compound before you all become completely incapacitated," Taenin said, "Now let's get moving before we run into the Hunters."
"Or something worse," Ezra muttered grimly.
They trudged off into the darkness, creeping slowly through the woods. The rain slowly trickled off, leaving an uneasy silence behind. Trails of blood dripped behind them in their wake, soaking into the mossy mud below. The moon shone brightly upon them, calling down to the creatures of the night. Ravens crowed in the distance, echoing their cries for all to hear. Branches rammed together in the wind and shadows crept around them, whispering a luring and eerie melody. Tingles crept up his back as he constantly scanned his surroundings. Thousands of eyes watched as they crept slowly onward, prying into the depths of their souls. He jumped as howls bellowed in the distance, strangled and throaty screams escaping out into the darkness.
    A branch snapped and fell to the ground beside him. He looked up, searching the canopy frantically for preying bodies. A pair of bright eyes stared down at him, watching as they slowly passed under. He flinched at the sight of the owl, his heart leaping up into his throat. He exhaled and placed his hand on his chest, trying to calm his nerves. It's all in my head, he thought repeatedly. It's purely a figment of my imagination, nothing more...
"This is going to be one hell of a night," he muttered.
#
"Come on Greg, stay with us, you have to keep talking to me," Ezra said as she held one of his arms around her, Dean helping support his weight on the other side.
"Greg, how are you doing?" Dean asked.
His head fell back and his legs started dragging on the ground, no longer supporting any of his weight. He groaned and closed his eyes, his body becoming completely limp.
"We'll be there shortly, all we have to do is make it over that hill. Do you think you can make it?" Taenin asked.
"I don't know," he choked out, coughing up his own blood. He promptly fell to the ground, his body giving up entirely, unable to walk any further. He laid there, spread out in the tall, yellow, grass, wheezing to fill his lungs with air. He stayed still, his only movement was the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
"Ezra, run ahead and get the doctor," Taenin ordered.
    "Okay, I'll be right back," she said, turning and running as fast as she could.
    He crouched to the ground and examined Gregory's abdomen. He was immediately disappointed at the grim outlook. Congealed blood had soaked around the hole in his shirt, and his skin was pale and cold. His body shook with fatigue, breaking down in front of everyone. Taenin winced, knowing he wouldn't have much longer.
    "It's going to be okay, Ezra's gone to get help. Soon, you'll be just fine," he promised.
"You'll be just fine," Chris repeated, the sound muffled by the coughing and wheezing of Gregory's lungs.
    His breathing steadily slowed, growing shallower and shallower with each subsequent breath. His eyes fluttered closed, and he exhaled for the last time. Taenin sighed, shaking his head, and stood up, tears welling in his eyes.
    "Taenin! We're here, we're here!" Ezra shouted as she came bounding over the hill with the doctor right behind her.
    "You're too late, he's already gone," Taenin stressed frustratedly.
    "Oh," she said, a frown overtaking her face, "His family is waiting for him at the gate," she added, her voice full of sorrow.
    "I'll speak with them. Dean if you'll help me bring Gregory to his family, Ezra, you help Chris and Tybalt get to the doctor's tent."
He slung Gregory's limp arm over his body as Dean grabbed the other side.
#
    "Dean, I wanted to speak with you just for a moment," Taenin said.
    "Of course," Dean replied as he followed him into the large brown tent.
He ducked through the opening and walked into the space, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting inside. It could barely be considered a furnished tent, much less a house for someone to live in. The only furnishings inside were a table, the few chairs surrounding it, and a bed in the far side. Dean gazed around the space, shocked at the lack of items inside the large space. Taenin motioned for him to sit down in a chair beside an oak table in the center of the room.
"What did you want to talk about?" he asked.
"As you know, we lost a lot of good men during last night's raid. Many of those men were instrumental in the planning, attacks, and searches for compounds. Now that they're gone, I find myself in need of a second in command. Would you be willing to take on that responsibility?" he asked.
"I would be honored," Dean replied with a wide grin.
"It's all settled then. I have to spend the rest of the day talking to families of the men we lost. The doctor spoke to me earlier and is expecting Tybalt and Christopher to make a full recovery in the next few weeks. Your first task is to find and recruit more men to replace the ones we've lost."
"The next few weeks? What are we expected to do until then?" he asked, "Building a whole new team is going to take time. Do we have the resources to last until then?"
"Well, as bad as this sounds, we now have a dozen less men to feed, so that will help ease the load a little bit. I expect with enough rationing and creativity we should be able to make it through," Taenin explained.
He stood and circled around the table, pouring himself a drink. Small groupings of candles rested on the table next to him. They crackled and sputtered, releasing a small stream of smoke billowing up into the air. He brushed his foot against the dirt floor, raking the dirt back and forth.
"Have you planned any resource trips in the meantime?" Dean asked.
"That's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. You and Kira are the only two Raiders from the team, other than myself, that are in good enough health to go back out of these walls. I already spoke with her, and she's agreed to go on a supply run to the river within the next few days," he said, looking into Dean's eyes to gauge his reaction, "If we were able to pull this off, we would be able to ration food much less strictly, and hopefully not run out of any vital supplies before we have a new team trained and ready to go on their first trip. What are your thoughts on going on a supply run with her?"
"Ezra just did her first trip and it was a failure, so if she's willing to go back out and risk her life all over again then so am I," he replied.
Taenin set his mug down on the table and smiled, rising from his chair. "I'm glad to hear it, talk with her about which day next week works best. Start asking around about possible new team members, and keep me updated."
"Will do," Dean said as he walked out of Taenin's tent.
"I'll be making my rounds to all the families if you need anything," he said with a scowl plastered across his face.
The only thing worse than losing a dozen men during a raid, is having to tell their family members, he thought.
#
By the time he arrived back at his tent late that night, he was utterly exhausted. He had never witnessed that much crying before in his entire life. He had always viewed it as a source of weakness, but now he rather felt much like crying himself. He laid down in his bed, staring at the dark tent canopy above him. He sat there for what felt like forever, unable to stop replaying the previous twenty-four hours over and over again in his head. He had gone from an untouchable leader, one of the compound's greatest success stories, to nothing but a failure. How had he not known what was to happen? He was responsible for each of those men's deaths. It was his fault that the mothers and wives would never be able to look upon their faces once more. He had never lost an attack before in his life, it was unheard of. There were only a few compounds left nowadays, this must've been one of the originals, he thought. How else would it have so many people crammed inside it's small walls.
He stood and poured himself a rather large drink, plopping down carelessly into a chair and gulping it down. He stared at the now empty mug, rubbing his dirty fingernails against his face. He poured himself another drink. And another. And another. At least there was one way he could momentarily forget his colossal mistake, he thought. He spent the rest of his night drinking his problems away, trying to push down and ignore the anguish he felt stirring deep inside him.