Drol’ka rushed all over the place, oblivious to Barry’s presence. Barry’s heart strummed as he counted the forms. As far as he could see, a dozen drol’ka rushed around the prison grounds. When he arrived, they were loading supplies and captives into the backs of three tractor trailers. It was dark, and he had no problem sneaking close to the prison’s perimeter fence. He crouched in front of the large brick-framed sign that read, “Oklahoma Department of Corrections Mack H. Alford Correctional Center.”

  All the action was inside the prison’s barbed wire-topped chainlink fence, but he knew he had no choice but to try. He watched the last of the survivors being tossed. Then he heard the double doors slam shut, and the latch squeaked as the doors were secured. The trailer was partially loaded before he witnessed the last couple of dozen get shoved inside. He thought of the day they rescued Joel and the survivors they had to leave behind. No matter the risk, he knew he couldn’t walk away again.

  His mind frantically tried to formulate a plan of attack, but their numbers were too great and too spread out. No matter what ideas he came up with, he knew he could only take a few drol’ka before he was detected.

  His planning was interrupted by the sound of the second trailer’s doors being closed. Barry was out of time, and he knew it.

  Act first and act fast.

  He caught the end of a conversation between a few of the closest drol’ka.

  “...of the big bosses is meeting us here, and they expect us to be ready to leave. Get over there, and help them finish loading the supplies into that truck!”

  The two listeners became anxious, and they immediately sped away. The drol’ka that sent them off turned and yelled toward a small group that stood around talking.

  “IF YOU DON’T WANNA HELP, THEN YOU CAN WALK BACK TO MCALESTER!” he yelled.

  The group didn’t act fast enough, so he yelled again.

  “ONE OF THE BIG BOSSES IS GONNA BE HERE ANY MINUTE, AND IF WE AREN’T READY TO GO, I’M GONNA MAKE SURE HE KNOWS IT’S YOUR FAULT!”

  The group didn’t ignore this threat. They wasted no time in finding some way to help finish loading the trailer.

  Barry had the feeling that these drol’ka weren’t sure what this big boss looked like, and it gave him an idea.

  Barry rushed to the middle of the driveway and straightened up. He clutched the war cleaver in his right hand and began strolling toward the open gate. With his shoulders squared and head high, Barry pointed the cleaver at the drol’ka, giving orders.

  “YOU THERE! WHY AREN’T THESE TRUCKS READY TO GO?” Barry barked.

  The drol’ka spun around and started to speak, but the sight of the massive figure striding toward him made him close his mouth.

  “I don’t know what kind of operation you're used to running, but I don’t like to be kept waiting!”

  All work stopped as the drol’ka watched Barry. He gave a backhand swing with the cleaver and yelled for them to get back to work. They stopped watching him and hurried back to work. Barry walked straight to the drol’ka he was scolding.

  “I have a schedule to keep. Why aren’t these trucks out on the road waiting for me?” Barry asked.

  The drol’ka shrank under Barry’s intimidating tone. He opened his mouth to speak, but Barry didn’t give him the opportunity.

  “I was warned not to expect too much out of this bunch. They told me the one in charge wasn’t strong enough to keep order. I can see they weren’t wrong.”

  The drol’ka’s eyes widened and his lips scrunched together. Barry saw the drol’ka’s fists clench, and knew he was speaking to the leader.

  “Go get that worthless fuck, and bring him to me.” Barry brought the cleaver close to his face and ran his left thumb across the edge. He watched a line of crimson flow down and drip off the palm of his hand. He stretched out his tongue and licked the blood from his hand. “I don’t like the taste of our blood…” Barry looked into the drol’ka’s eyes. “But…this little lady doesn’t mind it.”

  The drol’ka’s lips relaxed, and his eyes widened at Barry’s implied threat.

  “GO. NOW. Or your head will roll after his.” Barry accentuated the threat by resting the flat of the cleaver’s blade on the drol’ka’s shoulder. “I don’t like waiting.”

  The drol’ka turned and sprinted toward the trucks. The other drol’ka watched as he ran between two trailers and kept going. They remained silent as the figure sped into the darkness. The sound of his rapid footfalls grew fainter until they heard the clanking rattle of the chainlink fence being scaled.

  Holy fuck…I can’t believe that worked.

  Barry realized all eyes were on him, again.

  What now?

  Barry strode close to the trucks and stopped a few yards from them.

  “ALL OF YOU. GET YOUR ASSES OVER HERE. RIGHT NOW.”

  The drol’ka scurried around and sprinted to where he stood. As they approached, Barry’s optimism began to falter. Many of the drol’ka were indiscernible from humans, but many had noticeable differences in their facial features. Some had the large, rounded ears that curved forward. Some had longer jaw lines or wider chins. He remembered what he had learned about the drol’ka traits, and knew the big boss would probably be a high percentage of Drol’ka Choth’den. He had none of the Drol’ka Choth features.

  Barry casually turned away and feigned impatience by pacing back and forth. He stopped with his back to them and yelled for them to stop. Without turning around, Barry addressed them.

  “The days of humanity are over. This is our world now, and we do not follow the laws of meek men. We follow the laws of nature. Survival of the fittest.” Barry held the cleaver straight out to his right side. “Staring on this end, count yourselves off,” he ordered.

  They complied, immediately.

  “So there are twenty-two of my esteemed lineage, and you couldn’t muster the strength and speed to have my trucks loaded and waiting? I don’t believe that. Not my kin. But, I don’t blame you. I blame that bloodless coward who ran away. He lacked the force of will to motivate.” Barry lifted the war cleaver and held it straight into the air. His back remained to them as he spoke. “My will lacks only compassion. Compassion is weakness. We are only as strong as the weakest among us. Form a straight line, and face the trucks.”

  Barry listened to them shuffling into place. He waited a few moments before he glanced over his shoulder. He slowly strode toward the line and ordered them onto their knees.

  “I am only as valuable as the group I lead. Just like you answer to me, I have those I answer to. Unlike your previous leader, I will not allow you to compromise my standing with my superiors. You will know what happens when my charges don’t respect me.”

  Barry stopped a few feet from the center of the line.

  “Fear is only weakness when you are afraid of the wrong thing. We do not fear pain!” Barry slammed the handle of the cleaver against the nearest drol’ka’s arm. “We do not fear work or discomfort. We do not fear battle, or the bloody wounds and broken bones it creates.” Barry ran a shallow slice across one drol’ka’s arm before he crushed the ankle of another with a powerful stomp. The ankle crunched under his foot, and the drol’ka screamed. Barry yanked the drol’ka’s head back by the hair, and he clamped his massive hand over the exposed throat. The drol’ka let out a faint whimper before Barry ripped his throat out. “We sure as hell don’t fear death, because death only takes the weak…and if you’re weak, you deserve to die.”

  The nearest drol’ka felt the warm spray of blood on his face and tried to climb to his feet. Barry’s cleaver removed his head before he stood up. The head bounced and rolled before the line of drol’ka.

  Barry choked down a bit of vomit that tried to escape his throat.

  Oh shit! I can’t believe I just did that.

  “I didn’t tell anybody to stand up. My orders are definite. You do what I say, until I say otherwise.” He flipped the cleaver’s edge upward and chopped down on another drol’ka’s head. The impact caved in the unsuspecting drol’ka’s skull and sent the kneeling form tumbling against his nearby companion. “IS THAT UNDERSTOOD!”

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  What the fuck am I doing?

  The remaining drol’ka enthusiastically confirmed their understanding. Barry walked from one end of the line to the other. He did this a few times, as he pondered his next move.

  I have to keep going. I have to be the monster they expect me to be. I have to keep them off balance. I have to be a force they're afraid to question.

  “Human blood is a resource. A valuable one. The simple truth is this. We need it, and there isn’t enough to go around. So we are going to do a little culling.”

  A few of the drol’ka understood his meaning, and they began to look around. The drol’ka closest to him turned and looked at Barry. Barry kicked him onto his stomach, before he buried the war cleaver into his spine.

  “I DIDN’T TELL YOU YOU COULD LOOK AT ME!”

  The cleaver squelched as he yanked it free, and his stomach tried to squeeze more vomit into his mouth. He forced it back, and his jaws tightened from the sudden tang of stomach acid. He ran his tongue around his mouth and spat on the ground.

  The other drol’ka quickly returned to their passive kneeling postures.

  “What do I have to say to get it through your dense heads. I will not tolerate insubordination! This is the new world. The strong get stronger, and the weak get out of the way. Now, who can drive a semi?” he asked.

  Four hands raised in the air. Barry studied the owners of the raised hands and settled on the weakest-looking drol’ka. The cleaver flashed low over the heads of the nearby drol’ka. An agonized scream ripped from the drol’ka’s mouth as the cleaver separated his forearm from the elbow. Barry grabbed the screaming drol’ka by the hair and lifted him skyward.

  “I only need three truck drivers.” Barry whipped his arm toward the trucks and flung the one-armed drol’ka their direction.

  “How many of you are at least one-sixteenth Drol’ka Choth’den?” Barry asked, but nobody raised their hands. “I’ll not ask again!”

  Slowly, ten hands inched their way into the air.

  “That it? Okay. Those that have their hands up, I’m assuming your genetics alone elevate you above the rest. Prostrate yourselves where you kneel.” Half of them went flat on their stomachs. “You gotta be fucking around? Get on your bellies you fucking imbeciles!” The other five drol’kas fell flat.

  Barry walked down the line and tapped the shoulder of any drol’ka that he thought looked entirely human.

  “Unfortunately, we need drol’kas that can pass for a human. We never know when subterfuge will prove handy. If I tapped your shoulder…flat on your bellies.” They did as he ordered.

  Barry knew his next move had to be quick, and he couldn’t make a big spectacle of it. He walked to the kneeling drol’ka at the end of the line.

  “You come stand over here.” He took the drol’ka a few dozen feet away and told him to kneel. Barry stood behind him. In a single quick motion, he wrapped his arm around the drol’kas’s forehead and yanked the cleaver across his throat. The cut was deep and completely severed the drol’ka’s throat. He silently lowered the limp body to the concrete.

  “Stay here. Don’t move.” Barry acted like the man was still alive. He used the same rouse, over and over. Each time, he led a drol’ka in a different direction, away from the group. When he was finished, all that remained were the thirteen lying on their stomachs.

  He looked around at the lifeless forms scattered all over, and bile crawled up his throat.

  Hold it together. Not now. I can throw up when it’s over. This is what I must do to protect the innocent from these beasts.

  Barry wasn’t a killer. The images of those poor souls he left chained in the trailer were the only thing that kept him from collapsing at the carnage he wrought. Knowing what would happen to the survivors waiting in those trailers gave him the resolve to keep going. He walked toward the remaining drol’ka, and his fury grew with each step. The closer he got, the less he saw them as people, and the more he saw them as the monsters they were. His steps got faster as he approached, and by the time he reached the nearest one, he was nearly running. A righteous anger consumed him, and he lunged at the nearest drol’ka.

  ACT FIRST. ACT FAST!

  Barry chopped into the back of the drol’ka. The blade ran through the torso and bit into the concrete beneath it. He growled as he yanked the cleaver free and rolled into his next chop. He didn’t plan his attacks. His swings were sloppy and frenzied. When he finished one blow, he lunged, jumped, rolled, or stepped into another. Whichever target was closest to the blade felt its bite.

  Some strikes were merciful, but some only maimed. Where one drol’ka found an instant death, the next was just as likely to lose part of a limb. Barry struggled to free the blade after it hooked under a drol’ka’s ribs. He had to plant his foot on the screaming drol’ka’s hip to yank the cleaver free. The action snapped four ribs and left them protruding from the gaping wound. The delay allowed enough time for one of the untouched drol’kas to get to his feet and run. Barry flung the cleaver with a powerful two-handed overhead throw. The weapon flipped through the air and slammed into the fleeing drol’ka. The blade missed its mark, but the force of the thirty-pound cleaver slamming into the drol’ka sent him sprawling to the ground. Barry hurled himself forward and landed with a stomp. The impact collapsed the drol’ka’s lung. The second one shattered his shoulder and collarbone. The final stomp flattened his head.

  Barry was in a berserker rage. He picked up his cleaver and spun back toward the other drol’kas. He ran over and began hacking at the bodies. An arm rolled free. A skull popped. Spines were severed, and ribs crumpled from ferocious kicks. No matter how much he chopped, the screams never ended. The bodies were scattered, and the blood and gore covered everything. He had to kill them all, but they continued to scream. He continued to rampage as one bloody body melded with the next. The more he chopped, the louder the screams assaulted him. He began grabbing bodies and lifting them into the air. He would realize they were dead and then chunk them as far as he could. Another scream, and another dead body went flying.

  Eventually, he picked up the last drol’ka, and it was missing half its head. He flung the lifeless body behind him and inspected the area. Nothing remained. There were only detached limbs and chunks of flesh. Barry’s rage burned, and he began to kick the mutilated remains around him. Still, the screaming persisted. He slipped on pooling blood and stumbled over the various pieces of detached remains.

  “BARRY!”

  He couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.

  “BARRY!”

  There was nothing left to scream. They were all dead. They were all dead.

  “BARRY!

  He spun around and saw a figure slowly approaching him.

  THE SCREAMING!

  “BARRY! STOP! STOP! IT’S OVER!”

  Barry rushed for the figure. It was her. It had to be her. She was the one screaming. He raised the war cleaver over his head…

  STOP SCREAMING!

  Barry brought the cleaver down.

  “It’s me, Barry. Cassandra!”

  Barry recognized the figure, and he yanked the blade to the side. It missed wide and slammed into the hard concrete. He released his grip and let the handle fall to the ground. Barry looked at Cassandra’s face and dropped to his knees.

  “My god! I’m so sorry, Cass. I almost killed you. I‘m so sorry!” Barry fell forward and held his forehead to the cold concrete. His hands searched for her, and he grabbed her ankle. “I’m so sorry. It was the screaming. Where was it coming from? They were all dead! But…but…the screaming.

  Cassandra dropped to her knees and pulled his head to her chest.

  “It was you, Barry. You were the one screaming.” She rubbed her fingers through his blood-soaked hair. “It was just you.”

  Barry looked up at her, and tears dripped from his nose. He buried his head against her and sobbed.

  “It’s all over now. It’s all over.” She consoled him.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Barry sat on the ground and leaned against the army truck. He faced the highway, not wanting to see the massacre he created. Doyle came and informed him that it was time to go. Barry couldn’t look at him. He was too ashamed. He felt dirty. Not because of the blood and gore that stained his hands and apron, but on the inside. He couldn’t come to terms with what he had done, regardless of who he did it to.

  He crawled into the passenger seat of the truck and found Doyle in the driver’s seat.

  “What are you doing?” he asked Doyle.

  “Um, driving the truck back. Cass is taking the semi.” Doyle told him.

  “I didn’t know you could drive this thing?”

  “Seriously?” Doyle laughed and shook his head as he cranked the engine over. “I’m a champion NASCAR driver. It wasn’t that hard to get the hang of it.”

  The bright headlights of the semi ran across his face as Cass pulled away from the prison. Doyle let her pass them before he let off the clutch and followed her out.

  “I don’t know how you did it, but what you did back there…that was pretty amazing.”

  Barry heard Doyle’s words, and the sights, sounds, and smells of his slaughter flooded his mind. He clumsily felt for the lever that rolled the window down. He couldn’t find it fast enough, so he quickly grabbed the door latch and flung the door open. He leaned out just as vomit violently spewed out and splattered down the side of the truck.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The big boss sat in the back seat and watched as the semi and army truck drove away from the prison.

  “Do you recognize them?” he asked the driver.

  “Oh, we know who they are, alright. Don’t we?” the driver asked the man in the passenger seat, who only nodded in reply. “Those are fuckers that did this!” he held up his mangled right hand. “And broke Robert’s jaw and leg.”

  “Yes, I recognized her, too,” the big boss told them. “I can’t believe they took out an entire group of my drol’ka…including a few fourth and fifth generations.”

  “I wouldn’t have figured they could,” Dillon replied.

  “Follow them. But, stay as far back as you can…and no lights. It’s a full moon, so you should have no problem.”

  “You got it, Dunn.”

  “And don’t lose them, Dillon.” Dunn leaned forward and ran his fingers through Robert’s hair. “I’m hungry, and they took all my snacks.”