But like Chamberlain’s it worked because the Confederate troops they charged into were already dispirited from being under constant artillery barrage for over half an hour and having taken considerable casualties without even having fired a single shot in retaliation.
Pickett’s right flank began to crumble as men threw down their weapons and headed for the rear.
The lead elements of the attack now reached the critical four-hundred-yards range from Union lines.
Shot was replaced by canister in the Union guns. These were basically large-bore shotgun shells, each canister containing scores of oversize musket balls. Four hundred yards was also rifle range.
The first volley of rifle fire from the massed Union lines hidden behind their protective walls brought the Confederate advance to a momentary halt, as if every man had absorbed the incoming rounds, not just those hit. Canister tore- gaping holes, scattering the ground with men screaming in pain from grievous wounds.
It got worse the closer they got. At two hundred and fifty yards, the Union cannons were filled with double loads of canister. Every Union soldier with a rifle was firing now.
Many among the Rebel ranks knew it was now or never.
A Confederate lieutenant waved his sword, rallying his men. “Home, boy’s home. Remember, home is over beyond those hills!”
A colonel exhorted his cowering men to advance. “Go on, it will not last five minutes longer.” It didn’t for him as he immediately fell, shot through the thigh.
The Confederate advance began to break apart.
One Confederate brigade commander, still on his horse, disappeared in a cloud of red as a round of canister hit both man and horse directly. Given that the Confederates were now taking fire from three sides — the center of the Union line, which they were approaching, and flanking fire from artillery on Little Round Top and from Culp’s Hill-the ranks that weren’t running began to cluster toward the center.
Directly opposite the center was the Angle — a place in the Union line where there was a ninety-degree angle formed by a bend in the stonewall behind which the Union troops had positioned themselves. General Armistead, one of Pickett’s brigade commanders, led the final assault toward the Angle.
The bloodied line of gray finally reached the stonewall. Armistead put his hat on a sword and stood on top of the stonewall, urging the rest of the Confederate survivors forward. He fell mortally wounded-and with this, the high water mark of the attack had been reached as Union reinforcements raced up and pushed the Confederates back, capturing many of them.
Earhart heard a strange sound, something she couldn’t recognize at first. It took several moments for her to realize what it was: men sobbing. She carefully lifted her head and saw small clusters of Confederate soldiers falling back by her position, most carrying wounded comrades, and many crying, tears staining their dirty faces.
It was the most heart-rending thing she’d ever seen.
She could not believe that less than an hour earlier these dirty, bloodied, dispirted men had been part of the magnificent display of shoulder-to-shoulder soldiers with flags flapping.
She’d almost forgotten about the skulls in the horror that had surrounded her. Almost, but the pull of duty came through. Even through the armor of the Valkyrie suit she · could feel the heat coming off the case. She unlatched the lid and lifted it. She was almost blinded by the glow coming out of the crystal skulls.
She shut the lid. It was slightly after four in the afternoon. Darkness would not come for a while. When it came, she hoped her way out of here would come. She had what she came for.
The second and third assaults were also beaten back. The piles of Zulu dead were deeper in between the outer and the inner walls. Dabulamanzi was not fazed. He had passed through the line of sanity, and in a way Shakan could understand how it happened.
The roar of the British rifles, the war cries of the Zulu, the screams of the wounded, the dead all around, everything eerily lit by the burning building, all combined to make the normal World seem very far away. Dabulamanzi was berating his subordinate commanders, urging them into another assault. Shakan could tell even these hardened warriors were growing weary of battle.
Ahana was seated on the dirt, her head bowed, her hands covering her face, her Valkyrie suit floating in the air behind her. They were where they needed to be, but neither woman had an idea what was to come next. The muonic levels were still rising, but with Dabulamanzi unwilling to listen, they were growing short of hope.
Then Cetewayo arrived with his personal guards. The Zulu leader had passed through the stage Dabulamanzi was in and come out the other side. Shakan knew that as soon as he walked up, his shoulders slumped with weariness.
Dabulamanzi greeted his brother by going to one knee. “We are preparing to attack once more.”
Cetewayo looked at the carpet of bodies between where they were and the wall of bags beyond which the strange white helmets of British troops could be seen. Cetewayo waved for Dabulamanzi to stand.
“How many?” he asked.
Dabulamanzi was uncertain what his brother was asking. ‘’There are but a few of the enemy left and — ”
“How many warriors have you lost?” Cetewayo cut him off.
Dabulamanzi blinked. “We — there have been — ”
Cetewayo put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We have won the day, but I fear we have lost more than we have won.”
They all staggered as the ground shook.
“What was that?” Cetewayo demanded.
“The evil spirit bas gore into the land,” Shakan said. “It grows stronger as it eats into the soil.”
The land was all-important, every Zulu knew that. He turned to Shakan. “What do we do now?”
Captain Eddings grabbed Chamberlain’s arm and pointed. “Look.”
In the water below the MH-90 were a dozen dark figures, slicing through the water. Killer whales.
“What are they doing here? Chamberlain asked, remembering the Hi~ Priestess’ prediction that they were on their way.
“They are part of this too,” Eddings said.
“How deep can they dive?” Chamberlain was thinking of the tunnel that plunged into the planet. That had to be the reason they were here.
“Not as deep as you need,” Eddings said, knowing why he had asked.
“Nothing can go as deep as we might have to,” Chamberlain said, “if the data on that tunnel are correct.”
Eddings looked at him. “Don’t you have faith?”
“’Faith’? I’m a soldier.”
“You’re the commander of the First Earth Battalion,” Eddings said. “You volunteered for this unit many years ago. If you don’t have faith, why did you do that?”
“It has nothing to do with faith,” Chamberlain said. “It’s about vengeance.”
Eddings shook her head. “That won’t work. This is not about defeating the Shadow or paying them back for what they did to us. It’s for the future.” She looked down at the orca. “Even they know that and they were born to kill.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
As soon as Dane went back down in the water that covered Manhattan Island, he knew he was not alone. There were other presences in the water. Real presences. Pure evil. As evil as the Shadow, but different. Mindless creatures that existed for only one reason — to kill.
He’d seen them before.
Kraken.
And he knew what they were now. Bio-engineered creatures, designed by the Shadow to kill dolphins. Given the betrayal of the dolphins the Shadow had placed on the moon, there was nothing, no creature, the Shadow hated more.