Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

with the occasional cool breeze to make sure they didn't overheat. The going was firm without being hard, and the grass sprang back up immediately, no matter how hard they trod on it. Perfect weather, in a silent, empty world. Under a sun with a smiley face.
    The horizon slowly flattened out before them, eventually revealing a sudden dip in the land, like a huge grassy crater. In the middle of this was a large building, simple and blocky, constructed in bright primary colors. A high arch
    stood between the rebels and the building, covered in swirling red and white stripes. A large sign at the top of the arch said WELCOME TO SUMMERLAND! The rebels stopped at the base of the arch to study the sign. The letters were big and blocky, almost cartoonish, like something from a children's primer, designed to be bright and cheerful and nonthreatening. There were floodlights at the top of the sign, but they'd all been smashed. There were splashes of old, long-dried blood on the arch supports.
    Beyond the arch, the building had its own cheerful sign, saying Welcome Station.
    Giles headed toward it, gun in hand, and the others followed him. The sound of their feet crunching the grass seemed very loud in the eerie silence. They all had a constant feeling of being watched, but no matter how quickly they looked in any direction, there was never anyone to be seen. As they drew closer, they discovered that the Welcome Station hadn't escaped the war's attention either.
    The inner walls, still remorselessly bright and cheerful, showed the scars and pockmarks of discharged energy guns. There were long jagged cracks in the floor and holes in the ceiling, from high explosives. There were dark scorch marks everywhere, from fires that had been left to burn themselves out. And though the walls still stood, the Welcome Station was now cold and lifeless.
    The rebels moved slowly forward, checking every corner and shadow for potential enemies. They all had guns in their hands now, except for Toby and Flynn, who were getting it all on film. The eerie silence hung about them like a shroud as they passed from room to room. The wooden furniture had been broken apart and the pieces tossed aside, like so much kindling. Some of it had been used to start fires, but they hadn't taken. There were children's paintings on the walls, damaged by smoke and heat, and curling at the edges. Some were splashed with blood. More unusual were oversize children's toys, overturned here and
    there, like a rocking horse large enough for a grown man to ride. As they pressed deeper into the Welcome Station, the rebels found themselves stepping over more toys left scattered on the floor as though their owners had been interrupted in their play, or had had to leave in a hurry. But for all the damage and destruction, the fires and the smeared bloodstains, still the bright colors dominated the rooms, as though the rebels were walking through a violated and abandoned nursery.
    But if that was so, where were the children?
    And then they came to the gymnasium and had to fight not to look away. They were in the heart of the building now, with bright sunlight streaming through the shattered windows, illuminating climbing frames and vaulting horses and other simple equipment, most of it wrecked or overturned. And there, at the back of the room, on a row of wooden stakes hammered into the floor, were impaled twenty severed human heads. There was no sign of the bodies anywhere, or even that much blood. The shrunken, mummified faces stared back at the rebels with empty eye sockets. Their mouths dropped in silent, eternal screams.
    Evangeline moved in close beside Finlay, gripping her gun so tightly her fingers ached. If anything had moved in the shadows just then, she would have shot it without hesitating. It seemed there was no room left in her for anything but anger and rage at what had been done to these men and women. Somehow she knew without a shadow of a doubt that nothing human had done this. This was an affront to Humanity, planned and delighted in by its perpetrators. Giles glared about him, searching for some enemy to revenge himself on, but there was no one.
    Toby gestured to Flynn, who nodded, and sent his camera forward for a close-up, panning slowly along the row of screaming faces.

    "You bastards," said Julian, his voice thick with emotions he couldn't afford to release. "You bloody vultures. Haven't you any feelings? Is that all you can think of, getting good pictures