Yet even so, there was a part of him that was almost tranquil. The center of his consciousness was a bastion surrounded by chaos and upheaval. He feared death, and he certainly did not welcome it, but at the same time he was so tired.

It’s okay. You had a good run. It’s going to hurt really bad—don’t kid yourself on that one, Letho. But you won’t have to carry the burden anymore. No one will be looking to you for answers. Just a little bit more suffering, and then it’s over.

The copilot voice that had chided him for so long continued to preach this new sermon of peace through annihilation, and Letho had to shake his head from side to side to regain some sense of control over his own thoughts.

“Sir? Based on data I have collected regarding your body’s response to trauma and your enhanced strength and speed, it is entirely possible for you to survive your current circumstances. Unfortunately, the odds for survival are significantly lower for your associates. Remaining in this building will virtually ensure their death. The number of creatures approaching far outpaces current ammunition supplies.”

Letho groaned. “I appreciate the cheery assessment, Saladin. Now how about some advice on how we can all survive this mess?”

“You and your cohorts’ best chance of escape would be to split up and make your way through the creatures on the north side of the building, where the concentration is lower. I see multiple areas where the clusters of creatures are thin and it would be possible to break through. I can assist you in regrouping once you have escaped.”

“We should go, Letho,” Thresha said.

Letho gritted his teeth and uttered a few choice Tarsi expletives. “We’re not splitting up,” Letho said. He turned to look at Deacon, who was remarkably unconscious even in the midst of absolute chaos. Letho offered a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening that Deacon would remain unconscious through the horrible death that no doubt awaited him. “I’m not leaving Deacon to these animals,” he continued. “I’ll fight until I have nothing left in order to protect him. To protect you.”

“But you heard the sword: there’s a much better chance of survival if we split up and run,” she said.

“There’s also the chance that everyone dies. Go if you want; I won’t hold it against you.”

The body of the mutant that Thresha had killed suddenly disappeared, leaving bits of flesh and innards on the jagged glass as something on the outside pulled it from the window. Letho was fairly certain he knew what it was that had removed the creature’s carcass, but any doubt dissolved when a hideous snarling face thrust itself fully through the broken window, shrieking and snarling, ropes of spittle clinging to its chin as its head wagged from side to side.

Thresha wedged her rifle between the creature’s teeth and fired, causing the top of the thing’s head to disappear in a mist of black. Chunks of bone and brain matter painted the wall behind it.

Thresha looked over at Letho, and their eyes met. In that moment there was a transmission of data—no words nor overt changes in expression, just an understanding between them that transcended speech and body language. The mutant’s blood, spread across the wall in a glorious, high-velocity splatter pattern, was the writing on the wall. Escape would only prolong the inevitable. Death in the great unknown that loomed beyond the old school’s cinderblock walls was more terrifying than the death that had now revealed itself to them. Better to die together and in a fight than die from the slow death of starvation—or worse.

Maybe someday someone will find our bodies, along with the piles of mutant corpses we leave behind. And they’ll tell the story to others, the one about the brave strangers who stood their ground and eliminated hordes of Je-Ha’s forgotten creatures.

It was the closest thing to immortality that he could achieve, Letho thought. But it would come at a price, and he was ready to pay it.

Letho turned to Bayorn and Maka, who were crouching near Deacon’s body. They had both taken on a tranquil demeanor, and Letho sensed that they were ready as well. The choice had been made, it seemed. They nodded their heads in solidarity, and Letho felt an unwelcome tear at the corner of his eye.

“My brothers. Je-Ha awaits,” Letho said in Tarsi.

“We shall go to the feasting halls of our forefathers,” Maka offered.

“The Elders await us,” Bayorn said.

“You guys finished with your song yet? It’s catchy, but we’ve got some bad guys to kill,” Thresha growled.

Letho felt a twinge of fear pass through his body as he pictured the two Tarsi charging forward and silencing her sarcastic mouth by twisting her head off. But instead they laughed.

“Well said, Mendraga,” Bayorn offered. “Perhaps your race has its redeeming qualities after all.”

“Bayorn!” Maka shouted. “Blasphemy!”

“It is well, Maka,” Bayorn replied, and then offered a Tarsi expression that roughly translated to: Sometimes the devil becomes your ally when all hope is lost.

“What did he say?” Thresha asked.

“He said you’re good people, Thresha,” Letho said.

“Yeah, right,” she said through a smirk. “Do I look like an idiot?”

“Well, you do have chunks of mutant brain stuck in your hair.”

“Asshole,” she said, then turned and began to fire through the shattered window. The agitated roars of the creatures outside were growing louder, more insistent.

“Takes one to know one,” Letho shot back. The sound of shattering glass and screeching metal filled the air, and Letho knew that the hastily crafted barricade on the south wall of the building would soon give way, if it hadn’t already.

“Death comes now. Fight well, brothers!” Bayorn shouted. The sound of the Tarsi song-speak filled the air, rumbling in Letho’s chest. All fear was gone, washed away by the triumphant defiance in the last Tarsi battle cry Letho might ever hear. He sheathed Saladin and withdrew his Black Bear. As he pulled back the slide and checked the chamber for a round, his thoughts turned to Zedock Wartimer. Wherever the old man was, Letho hoped he would be proud.

Letho’s eyes went to Thresha, the progeny of his greatest enemy. Upon catching his gaze, she gave him a lopsided smile that ignited in him a half-mad euphoria. He smiled back, and then looked to his Tarsi brothers, Bayorn and Maka. Their eyes burned with rage and despair, and an angry froth had risen around their snarling mouths. Bayorn and Maka bumped their chests with their hands, a gesture of respect toward Letho. He saw no reproach in their eyes. It would seem that the incident between him and Bayorn had been forgiven.

And lastly, Letho looked at Deacon, who had finally managed to find peace. His expression was tranquil as he continued to sleep through the sounds of rifle fire.

Saladin’s words echoed in his mind.

I could survive this.

Letho was uncertain of the gift he had been given, was still uncomfortable in the extraordinary new skin into which he had been reborn. He had pondered the reason for this gift, why he had been chosen out of all the beings in the entire cosmos. His brain was churning so much that it seemed as though his very thoughts were manifesting into a physical sensation. After a moment of deep introspection, he knew exactly what he had to do.

“Bayorn! Maka!” Letho shouted.

“Yes, Letho?”

“Swear to me that whatever happens, you will not abandon Deacon.”

“Deacon is a great friend to the Tarsi, we would never—” Maka began, but Bayorn silenced him with a hand on his shoulder. The Elder’s face looked confused, but realization was dawning. Letho knew he had to act fast, before the venerable Tarsi could act to stop him.

“Letho, you couldn’t possibly—” Bayorn began.

“I’m going to create a distraction. Bayorn, I want you to get everyone out of the building. I’ll meet you guys on the other side of that line of trees just beyond the school.”