With war just hours away, those assembled for humanity’s last stand wait in nervous silence for things to heat up. Just what are the Undead waiting for, and why?
WAITING FOR DARKNESS (PART FOUR OF THE HELL PATROL SAGA)
The waiting was the worst part of it all. None of the devils had come forward to begin the battle that all those huddled within the sanctuaries, and even those who were still scattered beyond, knew was coming. Dearborn was working hard with his team on the much needed sera that had once existed and had saved more than one from a lifetime of undeath. All the components had been collected along the way, and whatever had not had been collected by those who had come north from South America and even by the lycanths who had volunteered to go out in search of those things that had proven to be too dangerous to collect.
Alder Lee had been completely removed from those who had been set to finding a delivery system, along with his original team. They had come up with too many bad concepts to really be taken seriously. Thus, they had been placed on other detail teams. Some were sent to training, while others were sent to the garden areas to help tend the growing plants. Seemed fitting. And Alder had been put on sentry duty.
Inexperienced with the types of undead wandering the countryside, he was probably not the best choice for this duty. But, everyone had to do their part. And he was no different than anyone else, no matter what he thought. He had to pull his weight just like everyone else.
And so, with his new duties, he paced back and forth before the gates muttering to himself. He knew his gathering had been broken up so that they could cause no dissention where leadership was concerned, and it galled him. How dare they strip him of his power. He was a better leader than anyone else in the compound. Even that scientist Dearborn. What was the mute working on, anyway? And what importance was it to their survival?
La Sorta watched the disgruntled politico pace back and forth. She knew he was muttering to himself and fuming about the dissolution of his little band and the loss of perceived power he had to endure. Yet, what had been done had to be done for the good of all. There could be no question of leadership. It was already crowded, with three leaders in control, but the division in leadership had been a necessity as well. For all intents and purposes, La Sorta and Leila commanded the troops since they knew everything there was to know about the enemy they were about to face. Magnus was over the non-combatant population that focused on creating new weapons and keeping the masses fed. And Dearborn was over the teams working on the sera and the much-needed delivery system.
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