Randel looked at Fluttershy, then at the Doorknocker in his hand. The thirteen scars on his arm. The thirteen he had killed himself, “Because when I finally lose myself, when I don’t come back…” He went silent, blue eyes staring at the mare for a long minute, “I want IT to remember. When IT takes over, do not cry for me.”
She looked up at him, blue eyes starting to tint red as two trails of liquid flowed down the sides of her muzzle.
He sighed and slid the Doorknocker back into its holster and stood up, “You have the ability. You need to kill. It’s the only way for people, no, creatures, like us to survive.” He turned to walk away, to leave her lying on the grass by the river, but froze as he heard a scream. It wasn’t from Fluttershy. It was from the farm on the other side of the river. Not a scream of frustration, but one of fear. Before he could really finish registering the fact, his boots were already throwing up clods of dirt as he sprinted through the trees.
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Randel skidded to a stop, boots sinking into the mud as he came to an abrupt halt. The orange mare he had seen earlier, the one with apples on her backside, she was sitting, eyes wide in terror. Standing on the other side of a broken stone wall was…was it some sort of mirror? He reached out, the creature on the other side did the same, mirroring his movements. His other hand slid to the lantern, “Run. Find Fluttershy. Hide.” He didn’t know if the orange one would understand, but he had to try. His hand, bare and scarred, touched a leather clad hoof. Knuckles rapped against the steel teeth fused into the bottom of the leather. He looked into blue eyes so much like his own. Bottomless caverns of death and fear. The lantern opened. The mirror lantern opened. Four eyes began to glow. Two Doorknockers rose. It wasn’t a mirror. Randel fired first.
The response ripped into his eyebrow. His head jerked back to the sound of a tree splintering. He bit the next bullet under his sleeve and shoved it into the breech. Another shot. Another response. His shoulder had a hole in it, again. His brain, set to the side, started thinking, plotting. Third shot. The Doorknocker fell from his hand. Two hands grabbed the giant stallion by the throat. Four tonnes. Not impossible to lift, not for him. He raised the creature’s forehooves off the ground. He felt the steel teeth biting into his chest as it kicked.
No fear. No worries. His teeth met flesh, ripped at it. He felt his ear tear free in the stallion’s mouth. His knee rose. It was still male. It didn’t flinch. Arm-lock. Dislocate one foreleg, then the other. Drop the creature to the ground. Step on it. Step on it again. Take the lantern. Deactivate. Discard. Tank shears. Good, he had lost his at some point. Shear through ribs. Find heart. Two Doorknockers, one with an unfamiliar trigger. Two echoes. No more life.
His eyes returned to normal as his own lantern deactivated, and he looked at the body. He hadn’t gotten the stallion’s name, but he knew it all the same. The scars across the muzzle, the neck, the back. He knew them as well as he knew himself. They were his scars. The book lied. The book…He turned and, with barely a tip of his head to the still terrified orange mare, took off for the library.
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Alice stared at the lantern, bloodshot eyes barely focused. She knew Oreldo was being a lech somewhere behind her. Martis was reading the manual for the jeep. Hunks was cleaning his desk. She didn’t know where the others were. She looked at the door, still unfocused. Randel was standing there. No, he wasn’t. He was dead. The door was empty.
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Oreldo lifted his canteen and took a sip, “Martis, we need to do something. She hasn’t eaten in three days.”
Martis looked back at him, glancing up from the piles of books he had been going through. He had found Doctor Kauplan and talked her into giving him everything on the 901st. Every piece of documentation on that lantern. Anything to explain what was happening to Alice, “I’m getting close. It says that every 901st who returned to their family, they were supported directly. Their deaths harmed their family, but most had a strong support that shared the burden, the responsibility. The Lieutenant…”
“Shouldered all of the Corporal’s burden. We never did. She took it all. Does it say how to help?”
“No. The families committed group suicide within two years of the 901st’s death. Lieutenant Malvin will die soon. We can’t do anything at this stage.”
The dull clicking of the lantern opening made both snap their attention to the -still not glowing- lantern
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Alice flicked the lantern open. A blue light filled her vision. She heard Randel. She pulled the lantern to her chest, held it there, embraced it. She heard him asking her to join him. She barely felt the ivory handle of her blade in her gloved hand. She didn’t hear the screams of her team. She didn’t feel the cold steel sliding between her ribs, into her heart. Tote mich.
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State Section Three, Pumpkin Scissors, was disbanded and melted into sections one, two, and four. Alice had a fine funeral. Oreldo and Martis placed the lantern, bloody and closed, between her clasped hands. They said the final words. They threatened Section One. Claymore One left, cleared everyone out. Understood. Six feet of dirt was a lot of work for three men and a little girl. No-one was allowed in the graveyard until they were finished.
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Alice woke to the feeling of grass under her cheek. All around her was a field. Beautiful, emerald grass covered the hills for miles. Right up to the base of a mountain. She looked up the mountain. There, near the top, was a city. She had to be in heaven, or at least part way there.