25. Broken band of brothers

Hunter.

Hunter Fallow was in pain, not regular pain, not the pain of being shot or stabbed. Not the pain of breaking a bone. Not the pang of aching starvation. No. This pain was immense and longing, a pain that cut deeper than any of his axes could cut.

He drew a shape across her rough palm, a heart, just the way his step mother had taught him. Her hand didn't move, it hadn't for the past few hours. "You said…a month?"

The doctor nodded, pulled at his rubber gloves, and cleared his throat. "Yes. But that's the best case scenario. She lost a lot of blood, and frankly, even if she does wake up, then she might not be the same."

"What do you mean?" Another heart, slower and more pressed against her palm.

"She could have lasting brain damage." Hunter shot a look at the doctor, the small man cleared his throat. "But, that's a minute possibility. I did as much as I could, the amount of medical equipment she owns is astonishing, and dually helped the procedure," he pushed his glasses up," but the rest is up to her."

Hunter nodded and bit down on his tongue, fighting back the searing heat in his eyes. "Alright. She'll pull through. I know she will. She still has so much to do, you know? She won't give in. She can't." He swallowed and took a shuddering breath. He smiled at the doctor. "Thank you."

The small man nodded and promptly left the room, the pixelated door hazed back together behind the scrawny man, and Hunter let out a strangled cry. He leaned over the hospital bed and put his head against her forearm, heaving breaths increasing and becoming short sobs. The soft beep of the heart monitor rang in his hears, the hum of the breathing machine attached to Hera made him sick.

She couldn't die right now. He couldn't allow it. He'd killed his only other best friend. He hadn't protected the woman he loved. His brother had been captured because of his blind rage. He thumped his palm against the side of his head. Arrogant. Stupid. That's what he felt bubbling inside of him. He'd gotten in his own way. He'd let the blood lust and rage get to him, instead of thinking about the bigger picture. He'd meant to be the one looking after his younger brother, he'd promised his step mother that he always would, and he'd done a terrible job.

He was a man with scars. Scars that lined his back. Scars that lined his arms. Scars that lined his legs. Three scars on his cheek. And a final scar on his soul. He'd done nothing but fail the people around him. He was disgusted in himself. The Jackal. The fabled bounty hunter born after the war. A name that was born out of cowardice and the same blind rage born by love that hurt more people than it actually helped. He'd gone to look for his brother, but had found a slaughter when he reached Young Haven. He'd searched and left Hera behind. He'd promised to help her rebuild, and he'd ran away, again blinded by a short term goal.

The only long term goal he held, his dream, was now lying in a hospital bed. A leg replaced with a bionic one. An arm now a deep black and metal, instead of the soft brown he'd ran his fingers along. Her eyes still shut, breathing still labored, and heart monitor a slow beep.

His father had told him he would be nothing but a failure if he didn't stick up for himself. If he didn't join the war, he'd ruin the Fallow name. But that was cowardice from a man who didn't know any better. However, he'd followed those words, and dug his own grave. His brother hadn't followed, and he'd ended up in the same grave. All of it because he hadn't protected him.

Hunter Fallow was a failure.

The door opened. The Major and Sergeant stepped through, faces covered in soot, mouths in grim lines.

"You could at least fake a smile." Hunter chuckled and ran his forearm across his eyes. His throat still burnt, but he was effectively in charge, and he needed to stand up. Hera had been alone all this time, so it was his turn now. He needed to take charge.

"What did the doc say?" Sergeant Ryan asked, stepping closer to Hera's bedside. He placed a small bottle of liquor on the bedside table. Good will, not in a show pity. She'd be here to toast again. One day.

"'Bout a month."

"So a few days." The Major adjusted his blazer. "God is not done with her yet."

"God's soldier," Sergeant Ryan muttered. "God ain't going to take it kindly that his one woman army was put down like this. When she wakes up…"

He didn't need to finish his sentence.

"Yeah." Another shaky breath. "Yeah. She'll be fine."

Sergeant Ryan smirked. "Hey kid, don't look so down. What we say back in them trenches?"

"We cry when they're dead. And even then, it's after the war."

"She is not dead and we are not done with the war," the Major said, deep voice soft and level. "We've lost the city, but her main objective isn't the city right now. Your brother is her main goal."

"Because if she controls the Unit, then she wouldn't need the aid of anyone else." He didn't need it spelt out to him, but he'd lost the Unit as well. They were grasping on straws. The city was filled with Island soldiers, and now a few of their civilians. But there was still a push back. The Gray's people had changed and grown, experienced more and flourished under Hera's leadership. They weren't going to back down easily. She was brutal, she didn't like to share what she worked for, but she was a leader nonetheless. More than he'd ever be. They needed her awake, they needed her to lead the Gray.

War. That would be the word used to describe Hunter Fallow's life when all was said and done.

The door hazed apart again, and revealed a young girl. Dark skinned with strong shoulders. One of the new soldiers.

Hunter balled his fists as she panted and drew an arm up in a snapping salute.

"Sirs!" she barked, short braids plastered with sweat.

Hunter fought down his urge, his impulse, of attacking her and mauling her on the spot. He was in charge, and he had to grow up. He couldn't think impulsively anymore.

"Go on, soldier," Sergeant Ryan drawled, a wary hand on his side arm.

"We've rounded up a few of the soldiers that turned, Sir!" She dropped her arm as her eyes drifted to Hera. "Is the LC…?"

Hunter stepped around the bed and blocked her view. "Where are they?" he said, a tone above a growl.

"Right this way, sir." She spun on her heels and left the room.

Hunter nodded towards the two other men, both of them had their pistols in their fists. As far as they could tell, there were only twenty soldiers worth of Hera's original battalion left. Older soldiers that served in the war. Soldiers that would never betray her. They couldn't trust the new soldiers, but they could gather information. Any way necessary, these cowards didn't deserve mercy.

Hunter followed the girl. Out of the hospital room, down the eerily silent white tube of a corridor, down a flight of stairs, and around more corners that he could count. He could hear the deep thud of the boots behind him. The Major and Sergeant watched his back, and Hunter was directly behind the girl. If she tried anything, it would be a short retaliation. But she kept her eyes forward, not once glancing back at the three men.

They paused at a large door, metal and heavy, bitingly cold to the touch. A freezer. The girl pushed against the door, stringy muscle in her arms bunching as she heaved. A breath of cold air pressed against them as the door opened, revealing ten young soldiers strapped to the wall to Hunter's right. Each one bloodied, not from bullets, these were blunt attacks. He examined the girl's fists: red and bruised. She'd done this.

Hunter gripped onto the handle of his combat knife, the snap off of safety catches accompanied the soft moans. They remained outside as Hunter followed the girl through, making sure the door remained open as he stepped onto the ice covered floor.

The girl was ram rod straight as she looked at Hunter. "They attempted to get into the bunker."

"How did you get them in?" She was small for a soldier, and her doing it by herself would have been too fictional.

She jerked her chin towards the door, where the Major and Sergeant Ryan had been accompanied by more of the older soldiers. Some with old cigarettes hanging between their lips, others cocking back pistols, but all with shadows underneath their eyes.

"They helped me."

"And why should I exactly trust you?"

"You should," one of the older soldiers said. "Fought by her side, not once did she hesitate to mow down them Island bastards." He took a drag from his cigarette. "Besides, this bunker cuts all tracking off no matter how good their technology is. They'd be stupid to try anything."

Even unconscious, Hera had done them all a favour.

Hunter strode towards one of the young soldiers. He jerked his head back with a sharp pull of his brown hair and stared daggers into the boy. "Why?"

The boy smiled, white teeth stained brown with blood running from his nose. "Because, you filthy animal, Hera's the reason I don't have shit."

The girl strapped to the wall next to him spat blood and smiled as well. "But she's about to die now, anyway."

Next, the boy next to the girl, with an impish face and missing teeth said, "And now it's you bastards next." He laughed. "Look at you. Scared. Hera's about to die, and then the world would be a better place."

Hunter let go of the boy and approached the impish one. The boy was singing a song, one line. A death chant calling for Hera to be publicly shot.

Hunter laughed along with him, singing as well. "Come on!" he shouted, urging the other young soldiers. "Sing! She's about to die! Sign and laugh and fucking smile!"

He butchered all of them, taking his time with the boy that started the chant.

He spat on his corpse. "Filthy animal."

This time, he hadn't acted out of blind rage. He knew that they wouldn't have given him anything. They would have laughed in his face if he attempted to torture them. They'd spit if he tried to coax them into talking. There was nothing they would offer him. They weren't valuable. They didn't have any strings connecting them to this world. Less of a problem if they were dead.

The young dark skinned soldier gagged. "Wh…I…weren't they going to be useful? We…they could have helped! They could have-"

"No." Hunter shook his head and wiped his knife on the dead girl's collar. "They wouldn't have turned back to us."

"Being naïve in war is practically shooting yourself in the foot," Sergeant Ryan said. He shrugged. "That's just how things go. Them kids weren't wrong, hell, Hera's done a lot of terrible shit. She left that Private-"

"Cleo," the girl muttered.

"Yeah, that one. She left her without a family. Felt bad for the little girl, but she's a fighter. These kids were angry at Hera, and so are a lot of other people."

"Once you kill your first person, it's a downhill from there." Hunter steadied the girl before her legs gave out. She may have killed a few dozen Island soldiers, but the shock of seeing people she'd trained with, eaten with, and laughed with left in near unrecognizable chunks of meat jarred her. Hunter could see that in her brown eyes. "But these kids weren't right either. You'd have been killed because you weren't in on it. You were one of us in their eyes, never one of them."

The girl visibly fought down a sob.

Hunter led her out of the cold and blood filled room. The corpses wouldn't decay quickly, the cold would keep them that way. And if they found any other defectors, they'd have a spare room for them.

Hunter's stomach flipped. He'd been taking short breaths to block out the smell of blood, and he'd made the mistake of inhaling too much. He gagged and puked in the corner of the room.

The stoic, pale, and glassy eyed face of the brown haired boy stared up at him. A smile still stretched across blue lips.

Hunter Fallow was angry, he was disgusted, but he was focused. His brother, he needed to find him. But first, he needed to think long term. He needed more people in his dwindling army. He needed the people Hera trusted most, and he had a rough idea where they could be.

He'd been young when they'd been built in the Gray. Sixteen. But who could ever forget them?

They needed supplies, they needed to take inventory, and they needed to scout the city and surroundings first. And then he would go to the Zoo.