Stacey followed Jannick to help drag or carry beastmen bodies to one side of the battlefield where, Jannick told her, they would be taken away by the beastmen overnight. Some girls running or limping back from further afield were greeted and helped back into town. Human bodies were laid out in rows. Body parts were carried to those rows to be matched where possible.
Lost or dropped weapons and armour were collected and placed in boxes. Those boxes were loaded onto trucks to be transported to the town armoury to be cleaned, mended and stored, or returned to their owners.
Graves were dug in the cemetery outside town in preparation for the local mass funerals once the bodies had been identified and families notified. Bodies of people who were not locals were sent to the morgue to be returned to their families later.
It was long past midnight when Stacey and the others cleaning up the battlefield finished their work. The field was empty and the wind blew a cold, hollow tune across the plain. Floodlights were turned off and removed from the field one by one.
The beastmen had arrived with a truck with an open tray at the back to collect the bodies of their dead. Those that noticed Stacey nodded or bowed to her, but otherwise ignored all the other humans.
The temporary tents that had been used to stabilise some critical patients were being taken down. Jannick led Stacey over to where a group of other people who had stayed to help were gathered in front of a policeman. There was a girl and two boys that seemed somewhat familiar, amongst them.
They were advised to stamp their thumbs and forefingers upon an electronic device. Jannick instructed Stacey to do the same, informing her that this was how she needed to sign off from completing her community service. Stacey had no idea what he was talking about but did it anyway.
"What's wrong with her?" one of the boys grabbed Jannick by the shirt front in anger. "Why doesn't she recognise me or respond properly?"
"In order to prepare her for the battle and survive it, she was given beserker training," Jannick told the boy, releasing himself easily from the boy's grip.
"You broke her?" the boy seethed.
"It was presumed that she would be unable to survive the battle if extreme measures weren't taken," Jannick sidestepped the boy's angry attacks and then wrestled him into a headlock. "It wasn't me who did the training and frankly, I was against it. But it's done now. Whether she is able to safely come out of this state and be able to return to normal is something we will have to wait to see."
"Looks like we got it easy after all," commented one of the other boys.
"Mmm," the girl agreed, looking Stacey over with pity in her eyes.
A black cat with three white socks circled around Stacey and sat by her side. A dog with floppy ears scratched itself while watching from beneath a nearby tree.
"In any case, we're done here. Let's go," the second boy told the one in Jannick's headlock. "The military instructor is waiting for us over there. Imogen's family are already here to pick her up."
"I can't even say goodbye to her," the boy that Jannick was holding raged, his tears falling.
"You still can," Jannick told her. "She might still remember when she wakes up from all this."
"Beserkers hardly ever remember anything when they wake up," the boy cried, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. "When she wakes up, tell her I said goodbye."
"Alright, you boys," said the crisp voice of a man in uniform. "Time to go."
"'Bye Stacey," the crying boy sniffed when Jannick let him go and then he followed the man in uniform.
The girl gave Stacey one more quick glance and walked away, gliding gracefully, like a dancer.
"Who were they?" Stacey asked Jannick.
"Your former teammates," Jannick told me.
"Oh. I don't remember," Stacey blinked.
"I'm not surprised," Jannick replied. "Come with me. The hospital will be busy tonight. I may as well get you back to your room to the ladies so they can help see to your wounds."
Stacey followed him, feeling exhausted. Her chest throbbed with heaviness giving her sharp pain whenever she took a deeper breath. Her limbs were sore and heavy. Her head throbbed and ached together with her bruises and stinging wounds. She paused to throw up.
It was over. It was over. Everything was over.
Finally.
Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Stacey collapsed.