The Regiment's Last Stand

Letter. Folded paper, 8x8 in.

Otis,

Hello from patrol. Should be gone three more days, then you owe me a drink. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. I don’t like marching in a line. Besides, these folks weren’t ready for what’s going on here. First one to see a Firebreather damn near pissed himself. I had to take the shot for him. But if the 26th really have the backing they say they do, then I’m better off throwing in with them than running errands for <i>her</i>. At least for now. Like you said, maybe they can turn the tides. They sure seem to think they can. Bit arrogant, but sometimes that’s an advantage. A.H.

Letter. Folded paper, 8x8 in.

Otis,

Well, what did I tell you? People don’t like these military folks getting involved, rogue or no. The 26th thought they could sweep in here and solve in a week what we’ve been fighting for more than a year. It’d be funny if it wasn’t all going to hell in a handbasket.

Speaking of, you really thought Hayes would enlist with us? The union man? Bet it stings that Caitlyn refused, too. Me though, I’m on whatever side has big enough guns to end this. They’re even doing research. We fixed up the balloon yesterday to send out samples.

Bridgewater showed up to join this morning. I’m glad to see him, but he’s already got no love for Whitlaw. I saw him ripping down the posters Whitlaw hung up. Can’t say I blame him. A.H.

Letter. Folded paper, 8x8 in. Translated from Voynich.

Otis—don’t meet me. Whitlaw’s ears are everywhere. You missed Conly’s leaving. Whitlaw ordered her to execute one of their own. Said he was infected, but he just looked scared. Conly refused, and Whitlaw shot at her. Compound’s still in an uproar.

I’d take Whitlaw over Riggins, though, even though half the 26th are hoping he’ll take over. You seen his little altars? The fingers and ears piled up? He says they’re “for victory.” I swear I saw him gnawing on one of the fingers yesterday. Up under that mask of his and gone.

Hope you’re taking good care of that hat of yours. A.H.

Letter. Folded paper, 8x8 in. Translated from Voynich.

Sneaking this out in the balloon, but don’t know where it’ll land. Hope you’re alive to get it. Didn’t expect Riggins to bar us inside the fort when the last wave attacked. The others screamed so long. The ones stuck outside were killed pretty quick. Almost worse to be stuck in, though. We’re out of ammo. Had to retreat from walls to inner compound; monsters keep coming. Nobody allowed to leave. Riggins always down with the big monster he caged to study, cutting at it. Sings marches constantly, like hymns. Nobody can stand it. They’re writing on the walls. Whitlaw’s shot four for crying. Claims dissent.

Heart’s racing but I feel calm. The others broke so fast. Running Lynch’s little errands was a different sort of training for me, maybe. Or maybe just made me mad enough to keep going.

Saw a corpse Whitlaw didn’t shoot. Hands tied behind his back, mouth stuffed with rotting meat. I think he choked on it. I heard singing.

Otis, if you find this, SEND HELP. Though God knows who could help us now, or would want to. -A

Letter. Folded paper, 8x8 in.

Nice to know you never leave a man behind, Otis. I was too proud to say it earlier, but even though Bridgewater and I escaped the inner compound, I’m not sure we would’ve made it farther. But you and Conly showed up. I’ve settled up with her for the ammo and assistance. Don’t appreciate you promising I’d pay half, though.

Some part of me is glad you weren’t there sooner. At the end, Whitlaw picked up an axe, split open a young man who’d been nothing but loyal. Said that after Riggins, everyone was a traitor waiting to happen. Well, that made it come true. I got knifed because I couldn’t stop looking at that poor kid, at first. Your breath sounds funny when your lungs are torn open. It’s like a child learning to whistle, or gas leaking out of the balloon.

I think Bridgewater and I will keep it rigged up to send bounties. Might be the best idea I’ve had in a while. A.H.