Page 11 of Ash Fall

The soldiers walk Torrin and me down the sidewalk with their rifles carried in a way that should look convincing from a distance. Torrin waits until we're far enough from the house before speaking.

"You're going to have to wait until this is over before you explain yourself to everyone."

I glance at him. "I know."

"I'm serious, Mars. You're not going to get a warm welcome from any of them until they know what happened."

My hands curl into fists. "I fucking know that. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."

Torrin looks over at me. "I'd probably feel worse for you if the rest of us hadn't spent the last two years dealing with what you left behind. Luna most of all. You have no idea what she went through, and you added to it, so you're going to have to suck it up for a while."

The words hit exactly where they're supposed to because he's completely right. I give him a short nod and keep walking.

The military truck comes into view at the end of the block. People sit shoulder to shoulder on benches in the open back, some crying, others staring ahead without saying anything. A woman near the tailgate has a small boy clutched against her chest.

One soldier stands at the rear of the truck.

"Where the fuck is Davey?" he calls as we approach.

Charlie doesn't hesitate. "Got held up in the last house, Foster. You know how he gets when he finds video games. We found these two hiding downstairs, so count it as a win and stop whining."

Foster looks Torrin and me over. His eyes drop to our wrists.

Fuck. We're not restrained.

His expression changes, and his hand starts moving toward the radio clipped to his vest. "Why aren't they zipped? Something's wrong here, Charlie. Protocol says we call in..."

Torrin steps forward, that now familiar look of concentration on his face. "Don't touch your radio or your weapon. Stay where you are, and you can speak."

Foster's hand stops an inch from the radio. He can still breathe, blink and talk, but his boots stay planted exactly where they are and his hand refuses to move any closer.

"What the fuck?" Foster stares at his own arm before looking at Torrin.

"Colonel Ashford’s orders no longer control you. The people of this town are not your enemy."

Nothing obvious happens while Foster is still physically held in place, but his face changes. His eyes widen, and his mouth opens on a hard breath.

"Bloody hell."

Torrin studies him for another second before changing the command. "You can move normally now. You still cannot touch your weapon or radio, hurt anyone, leave, or warn anyone unless I tell you otherwise."

Foster's body releases all at once. His knees bend, and he catches himself against the tailgate before rubbing both hands over his face.

"Jesus Christ." He looks at Charlie. "Mate, tell me you can feel it too. Tell me that bastard isn't in your head anymore."

Charlie grips his shoulder. "It's gone for both of us. Long story, and we'll explain it on the road. Right now, we've got people to let out."

Foster turns toward the house we came from. "Where's Davey really?"

Charlie hesitates before answering, "I'll tell you later."

Understanding passes between them. Foster looks like he wants to press it, but he nods once and turns toward the civilians.

Torrin moves to the tailgate. "Nobody here is going to hurt you. The soldiers who took you were being controlled. They were forced to obey orders from their commanding officer, Colonel Ashford. You've just watched me break that control on Foster, and I've already done the same for the others here. They won’t hurt you, you're free to get down and go home."

Nobody moves and I can't blame them. If I had been dragged out of my house by armed soldiers and then watched some stranger control one with his voice, I wouldn't be climbing down just because he told me everything was fine.

The woman holding the little boy speaks first. "They took my husband this morning. If I go home, what happens to him?"