“Find cover!” Marcus yelled. There was another explosion, and then the Daemons poured in like a rupturing dam. Marcus’s M1911 was on the ground, just an inch from my hands. I grabbed it and pointed it at the Daemons. My left arm was the only limb that was free, everything else was wedged beneath the wall. There were hundreds upon hundreds. I had never seen so many Daemons in such a small area. Mortars were exploding around us, which meant that someone had called for a Danger Close; in other words, drop bombs on top of our heads in an effort to kill the enemy. I fired blindly, unable to see much through the fog of war. When the pistol clicked empty I simply watched the carnage unfold. Then I saw him. I saw the real Tamechactee. This was no longer Marcus Riehl, this was something else.
They ran straight for him, and I could only see glimpses of my friend as he fought them. His eyes were half closed, and he moved so fast that he made the Daemons look slow.
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