Chapter 12: Night Quiver

Well, that was fast. That was what I muttered to myself once things had settled down a little. With the bullet now sitting in a bowl across the table, I kept my glowing palm hovering over what used to be a torn mess of skin, watching the surface flesh slowly creep inward, closing up the gap bit by bit.

"Everything going smooth, Elise?"

"Yeah, Lieutenant." My focus slipped just a little as I answered Lieutenant Bulgers, who had his arms folded and was leaning back against the dark wooden wall.

Honestly, I felt kind of stupid for panicking that hard earlier. After all those years of training that ate up most of my adolescence in this world, I should've been fine. Especially considering there wasn't a single enemy bullet flying around to mess things up this time. I really needed to be more ready for whatever came next, because odds were it'd be a lot worse than this.

Since the wound-closing phase didn't need much secondary effort, the others had started to ease off. I was relaxed enough that I wasn't even fully locked in anymore, even giving my boot a little shuffle to scratch the back of my other calf.

The mortar team had been sent to stand watch in the living room. Lieutenant Bulgers felt it was getting too crowded in the dining room, and with his usual eye for these things, he figured having everyone packed in would make the patient uncomfortable.

"You son of a bitch Pisger, you stole my lighter again didn't you?"

"....Pisger, give Horgan his lighter back."

"Ain't take a shit, Fred."

Though calling it standing watch was a stretch, because I could hear them messing around from all the way in here. Then again, those three had done the heaviest lifting earlier, literally carrying the patient here, and they'd helped keep him pinned down during the extraction. So fair enough.

"Hey guys, keep it down, aight?" Lieutenant Bulgers tried to rein them in, cigarette already lit between his lips.

"Yes, sir." With that, the noise from the living room shrunk down, though it was pretty clear they'd only dropped it to a bunch of hushed whispers.

"Hit me, kid."

"Shut up, I'm thinking over here."

As for the two sitting to my left, facing each other, they were even more relaxed than the three in the living room. That would be Caspian and Ashton, tossing cards back and forth from what looked like Caspian's own deck. At this point I wasn't even surprised.

Look at them. Separated from home by thousands of kilometers of the Colosean Ocean, sitting deep behind enemy lines, and still somehow finding the mental bandwidth to think about which card to play next.

The fuel behind all that ease, though, was the daughter, who had introduced herself as Nira. She was so grateful to us that she'd gone through the trouble of boiling water and brewing a cup of coffee for every single one of us.

She had brown hair tied back, with the long tail of the knot draped over her right shoulder, which gave her this graceful, mature kind of look. From her appearance, I'd guess she was about three years older than me.

"Oh, thank you, Nira," Ashton and Caspian were the first two she served, Nira carrying the cups out on a wooden tray.

For reasons I hadn't figured out yet, Nira told me to wait and walked right past my back, balancing that tray with the steadiness of a professional waitress. Her second stop was Lieutenant Bulgers, still leaning against the wall with his cigarette. He had no real reason to turn down the hospitality.

"Thank you, though you really didn't have to."

Nira gave Lieutenant Bulgers a warm smile and a small shake of her head for telling him she was not troubled at all. Then she stepped out of the dining room, heading toward the living room where the remaining three members of the unit were.

It didn't take long for her to reappear from the living room, now carrying a completely empty wooden tray. She seemed to truly enjoy what she was doing. Just like before, she passed behind me from the opposite direction, and my eyes tracked her busy movements.

My eyebrows rose slightly when she poured boiled water into a mug that was larger than any of the previous ones. Ultimately, I tried to be polite by pretending not to notice, staring instead at my hands which still showed no sign of the light fading.

"ᚦᛅᚦ."

My attempt was futile as Nira approached me, holding out a mug filled with a steaming hot drink. This time, I truly couldn't hide my lack of manners. My brow furrowed reflexively when I saw the warm beverage. Unlike my comrades who had been served black coffee, what was being offered to me was clearly... milk?

"Um," my eyes darted toward Caspian, who was still busy with his card game. "Caspian, could I ask a favor?"

"What's it?" he responded dismissively, not even bothering to look my way.

"Could you ask Nira," I glanced back at Nira, who was still smiling and offering me the glass of milk. "Why am I the only one being given milk?"

"For what?" Caspian didn't budge at all. "What's wrong with milk, anyway?"

"Right, Elise, what's the issue?" Across from us, Lieutenant Bulgers supported Caspian's statement. "Nira went through the trouble of making you something special. It would be rude to refuse."

Ah, shit. It seemed I was just overthinking it. In this world, there was no social stigma regarding milk-shame yet. Although I disliked such stigmas, I had ended up becoming a supporter of it simply by following along.

"Well, maybe it could help with your stunted growth, right?" This jerk Caspian, he's giggling!

"My height is none of your goddamn business."

Seeing Nira still offering the glass with a smile, I realized that if I kept ignoring her, I would look like the rudest guest on this entire continent. My hands were still busy covering the wound, so Nira held the glass herself, meaning all I had to do was take a sip.

Hmm? But strangely, even before my lips were wet, the white surface of the milk seemed to move. Small ripples appeared in the center as if something had touched it. Nira's own hands were steady enough, so it couldn't have been due to any sudden movement from her.

No, it's not just that. Looking around, my eyes landed on Ashton's and Caspian's coffee mugs, and theirs were doing the exact same thing as my milk.

At first, I thought it was just my imagination from exhaustion, but the longer it went on, the more I felt it. Although I felt guilty for ignoring Nira, who was still confused by my behavior, I tried to analyze the situation. That was when the vibration in the wooden floor we stood on began to creep up through my boots.

"Lieutenant?" I called out softly, my voice already wavering.

There was no response. We all froze, filled with questions as the utensils hanging on the kitchen wall began to sway and clatter against the surface. Even the two coffee mugs sitting on the table began to slide on their own. The vibration grew stronger, deeper, spreading through every corner of this wooden house as if something massive and heavy were moving underground, struggling to reach the surface.

There was no mistake. This quiver felt like it was drawing closer from an as-yet-unspecified direction.

"Shit!" Lieutenant Bulgers cursed loudly, his voice breaking the silence. "It's an enemy marching!"

That warning instantly chased away any lingering calm. Everyone scrambled from their positions, their alertness snapping back to a razor-sharp edge.

"Kill the lights! Now!" Lieutenant Bulgers barked.

Ashton, who was closest to the lantern, reacted with practical speed. He flipped the glass casing and blew it out until not a trace of light remained. The room plunged into darkness, save for the faint, golden shimmer radiating from my hands as I frantically finished sealing the wound.

"Come on, Elise!" Lieutenant Bulgers hissed toward me, racking the bolt on his carbine. "How much more time do you need?"

I took a split second to assess the healing I’d performed on the father’s abdomen. "It’s done, Lieutenant! Though it’s going to leave a hell of a scar."

"We aren’t running a beauty pageant here," Lieutenant Bulgers yelled at my report. "You've already done enough."

Taking Lieutenant Bulgers’ lead, I finally pulled my hands away from the skin. The father’s stomach had closed with an unnatural urgency, leaving behind a jagged, prominent pink line. But as the Lieutenant said, we didn't have the luxury of aesthetics.

In that same instant, I grabbed the silver bracelet on my wrist and pressed the pin firmly. Every remaining trace of light in the room vanished at once.

I slumped onto the cold wooden floor directly beneath the dining table, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Beside me, Nira crouched low, her hands trembling violently as she gripped my sleeve.

From my vantage point on the floor, I could see the mortar squad shifting from the parlor to join us in the dining area under Lieutenant Bulgers’ orders.

As the rhythm of marching boots drew closer, the others remained busy executing the Lieutenant's instructions. He ordered us to gather every coffee cup that had been served to us earlier.

"Leave nothing behind. Not even a scent," he muttered, explaining his reasoning even in the heat of the moment. It was a detail none of us had considered, but that was our Lieutenant for you.

The earth began to vibrate beneath us, a low tremor acting as a grim harbinger. Then, the sound became unmistakable. I could hear the rhythmic clanking of iron treads and the heavy roar of diesel engines. It told us exactly what we needed to know: the force parading past the house was no ally, but an enemy mechanized unit.

The situation forced a hard choice. Since it was already too late to move the father to the second floor, we shoved him under the dining table where Nira and I were already huddling. My squadmates took up positions in every corner of the room, melting into the shadows with each of them hoping they wouldn't have to squeeze a trigger.

"Tanks..." Caspian whispered, now crawling across the floor. "This is a whole company. No, it’s a battalion."

"Damn it," Lieutenant Bulgers cursed. "I hope this isn't reinforcements from the north."

Outside, powerful searchlights swept across the exterior walls. Beams pierced through the gaps in the timber, creating slow-moving ribbons of light across the ceiling. The roar of the engines grew so deafening that dust began to shake loose from the rafters, raining down onto our heads.

The enemy was right at the doorstep.

"Everyone, keep your head down," Lieutenant Bulgers ordered in a low, commanding tone. "Hold your fire unless I told to. We don't stand a chance against whatever is out there."

The entire room responded with nothing but silence to the command issued by Lieutenant Bulgers. No one dared to dispute it, because in the end, only a madman would step out and challenge something so vastly superior.

The wave of troops gave us no sign that they would soon finish passing us by; in fact, the presence only seemed to intensify. The rhythmic thumping of enemy boots dominated the area around the building, even drowning out the growl of the tanks escorting them.

Chatter from various figures in the formation blended together, rudely slipping into the house. The voices were too crowded for any of us to discern the language they were speaking.

What was even more alarming was the sound of doors in the neighboring houses being kicked in, one after another. Right then, screams of terror from multiple directions filled the air, punctuated by the cracks of gunfire that would abruptly silence them. It was enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up just from listening.

Without realizing it, I tightened my grip on Nira’s arm as we huddled together, trying to offer one another some semblance of support. She was shaking so intensely like she was in cold place, and no one could blame her for this.

"...It's okay," I whispered to soothe her while rubbing her back, though my own hands were trembling as I did it.

CRACK!

Another door shattered outside. It was followed by a woman's piercing shriek that was cut short by the heavy thud of a rifle butt. I clamped my eyes shut, trying to banish the images of what was happening just meters from our hiding spot.

"Bayonets ready," Lieutenant Bulgers whispered, his voice nearly swallowed by the roar of the tank engines outside.

The faint scrape of metal followed as Freddy and the others drew their blades. They took care to keep the noise muffled as they fixed them to their muzzles. In the darkness, the only light was the thin reflection from the tank searchlights bleeding through the cracks in the walls. The beams swept over the faces of my teammates who looked pale yet braced for death.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps came to a halt right on the front porch, making it feel as if the world had stopped spinning. The sound of boots crunching on the gravel was so vivid it felt like the person was standing right over us.

Creeeeeak...

The groan of the door opening rang out sharply. It reminded me of a horror film where a butcher hunts down his terrified, hidden prey.
The yellow glare of a searchlight began to force its way into the room. The curtains separating the dining area from the parlor weren't enough to block the light entirely.

"ᚼᛖᛚᛒᛅ? ᛁᛋᛏ ᛁᛖᛘᛅᚾᛅ ᚼᛁᛖᚱ?"

A coarse, baritone voice called out in a raspy foreign tongue. The groan of treading floorboards signaled that whoever it was had stepped inside.

Unable to withstand the extreme terror, Nira gasped. I quickly clamped one hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs as her tears wet my palm. I used my other hand to cover my own mouth.

At first, the sound of those footsteps seemed to only circle the parlor. We had no idea what he was doing, but he appeared to be ransacking the room, judging by the sound of objects crashing to the floor.

It didn't last forever. The yellow light, like the eye of a monster sweeping its gaze across every corner of the room, began to draw closer and pierce the shadows where we hid ourselves. With every approaching footstep, that glare pushed deeper into our refuge.

My heart hammered so hard against my ribs that I was certain he could hear it, drawing him closer toward the dining area where we were hidden. We're doomed for, because we had no escape route.

But then...

Just as the silhouette reached the curtain and the thick fabric began to shift, a low mechanical wail rose from the distant horizon.

Wrooooooooom

An air raid siren shrieked, its howling lament piercing through the roar of the tanks. Almost instantly, the heavy thumping of anti-aircraft guns began to boom from the outskirts of the village, the tremors rattling the glass in the window frames.

"ᛅᚴᚼᛏᚢᛗᚵ! ᛚᚢᚠᛏᛅᚾᚵᚱᛁᚠᚠ!"

A sharp, authoritative command rang out from the street, followed by the frantic blast of a whistle. The intruder froze, his shadow hovering over us for several agonizing seconds before he spat out a curse and turned away. The front door slammed shut with a bang. At the very least, he was polite enough to close the door behind him. The slow, steady rhythm of the march outside suddenly dissolved into panic.

"ᛋᚴᚼᚾᛖᛚᛚ! ᛚᚢᛋ, ᛚᚢᛋ!"

The heavy roar of diesel engines thundered as the tanks accelerated, their treads grinding the gravel with a new sense of urgency. The clamor of shouting men and the clatter of armor began to subside, moving away from the village and leaving behind only the fading echoes of the siren and the rhythmic pounding of the distant anti-aircraft batteries.

We all held our positions. I didn't even let go of Nira. We remained huddled in the cramped, dark space beneath the table, listening as the world outside went mad. None of us knew why the sky had suddenly decided to scream.

"Stay down," Lieutenant Bulgers advised as usual. "Hold your positions until it is completely safe."

Though the traffic was no longer as heavy as before, the sound of footsteps in front of the house had not yet ceased. We simply waited and waited for the remnants of the enemy parade to truly vanish from the village.