Hell on Earth Trilogy: The Complete Apocalyptic Saga

by Iain Rob Wright

  Richard shouted after Riaz, but it did no good. The officer ran up behind Aaron and grabbed him around the collar, spinning the lad around. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Get your hands off me, pig!”

  Riaz snarled. “I’ll drag you into a cell and guard you myself.”

  “Riaz! Riaz, it’s okay.”

  Riaz glanced sideways at Richard. “How is this okay? It was a bloody stupid idea leaving these trouble makers on the street.”

  “I told Aaron to put through the windows,” said Richard.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because we all need feeding, and this chip shop is sitting here abandoned and full of food.”

  Riaz released Aaron and shoved him away. The lad smirked but looked a little shaken in the eyes. Riaz glared at Richard in a way he did not like. “This is somebody’s business. What right do we have—”

  “For Christ’s sake, Riaz! What the hell is the matter with you?”

  “What’s the matter with me? I’m a police officer hearing that another police officer just condoned wanton destruction of property.”

  Richard shook his head and pointed a finger in Riaz’s face. “No, it’s more than that. You’ve been in a foul mood since last night, which is fair enough considering the circumstances, but what I don’t get is how one minute you’re telling me we’re all doomed, then the next you’re trying to enforce the law as if everything is normal. What is going on with you?”

  He slapped Richard’s finger out of his face. “I’m not having this conversation. You want to play at being Mad Max, fine, but it’s a waste of time.”

  “Why is it?” said Richard. “Why are you so eager to give up?”

  Riaz shoved past Richard and marched away. As he stormed off he shouted over his shoulder. “Don’t forget about the iron. It might just let you live a few minutes longer.”

  “That guy is a dick, man,” said Aaron.

  Richard patted him on the back. “It’s my fault. I should have involved Riaz in what we were doing.”

  “He don’t want to be involved. All he does is sit around stink-eyeing us.”

  “I’ll talk to him. For now, just get those fryers on. I’ll go get you some volunteers from the church.”

  Aaron took off his baseball cap and ran a finger through his hair. With a smile he said, “I always wanted my own business. Guess I’m in the fast food game now.”

  “Well, be good at it or it’ll end up being a free for all.”

  Richard headed back to the church, and when he announced that food was in the process of being delivered, an excited chorus of hungry moans broke out. Dillon sat on the steps up to the altar, so Richard went up to him and pulled out the item he’d tucked in the back of his trousers. It was a Beano comic he had taken from a basket outside of a charity shop. Dillon grinned at the sight of it.

  “Dennis the Menace. Thanks, Dad.”

  Richard gave him a hug. “You’re welcome.”

  Jen came over. “How’s it going?”

  “We have a decent wall up now. Riaz told me he’s learned that the demons can’t cross iron.”

  “Demons? Are we calling them that?”

  “Yes, and there’s giant angels too, apparently.”

  She broke out in laughter.

  Richard grinned. “You don’t believe me?”

  She covered her mouth and stopped herself. “No, I do believe you. That’s the problem. Demons, angels… It’s just so absurd. Whenever I try to make sense of it, I start to go insane. I mean, we haven’t even seen these things. It all feels like a big practical joke, you know?”

  “Let’s hope that it is. I would rather feel stupid than afraid.”

  “Well, we’re okay for now at least. I’ll take Dillon to go get food at the chip shop. Maybe we can find a way to help out.”

  The thought of his wife and son having a task to occupy them sounded good to Richard, so he told her, “Go ask for Aaron and say you’re my wife. He’ll be glad to have your help; I’m sure.”

  She nodded. Before she left, she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m still proud of you.”

  Richard sighed. “Just let me know as soon as you stop.”

  “Can’t see that happening.”

  Richard stood in the church while most everyone filtered outside and across the road to the chip shop. Faced with a brief moment of peace, he sat down on a pew and stared up at Jesus who hung from a cross above the altar. Richard had never believed in him before, but he wondered now if the man had been real—in the sense he was God’s son and looked down on humanity. Was it truly demons stalking the earth, or something else entirely? Was Riaz right: that they would all perish without the slightest assistance from heavenly forces? Despite Richard’s atheist views, there was something fateful about ending up at a church. He felt somehow protected.

  “Do you feel his presence?” asked Miles.

  Richard started, but then settled back down. “Not sure I do. I don’t see any sense in this.”

  “And yet, there is sense to be made. It’s happening for a reason, just not one we understand.”

  Richard laced his hands together in his lap and took his eyes off Jesus and turned them to Miles. The man was still donning his cassock and collar. If it had been Richard, he would have changed into something more comfortable. “What is your take on all this, Miles? Is there a religious perspective?”

  “There is a religious perspective on all things, not that it’s always helpful. In my opinion, for I cannot speak higher than myself, I believe this is a war that started somewhere else. I think forces above us are in dispute, and perhaps we are just a staging ground. Maybe we have been caught in the middle.”

  “You mean like Heaven and Hell? They are fighting over us?”

  “Earth is heavenly by its very nature, for it is of God. I imagine God’s enemies would like to see humanity fall. It would be the ultimate insult to him.”

  “So we’re collateral damage?”

  Miles nodded gently. “To believe we are anything more important would be vain.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Does the bible say anything about this kind of thing?”

  “Depends on which version you read. Some of the American sects would tell you this is a tribulation, that we are all being tested for worthiness of Heaven. They call it the Rapture. C of E is a little less dramatic. Perhaps the Antichrist has been among us, and we missed him. There is so much evil in the world it would be easy to dismiss him as just another tyrant or greed-monger. Maybe he brought war to us without us even noticing.”

  “I haven’t seen the Four Horsemen yet.”

  “Nor shall you, I am sure. Such things are simple allegory. What I believe, however, is that if there are forces of evil, then there is also good. If the devil has come to Earth, I believe wholeheartedly that the Messiah will follow. As bad as things seem, we may not have seen everything play out just yet.”

  Richard patted the man’s knee. It seemed appropriate. “I can get on board with that.”

  “Then there is hope.”

  “It’s about all we have.”

  Miles put his hand on top of Richard’s. “Feed yourself, Officer. You are our totem, and we need you strong.”

  “Totem?”

  “The focus of our collective spirits. People will follow you, gaining strength from your strength. Keep care of yourself. Go eat.”

  He nodded. “A question first.”

  Miles leant forward. “Yes?”

  “Does this church have anything made of iron?”

  Miles looked confused, yet he gave the matter some thought.

  A short while later, Richard went outside. He was pleased to find a long, orderly queue outside the chip shop. People were calm. Yet, imagining how they would be during an attack made Richard shudder. Would they scream and run? Probably. Could he change it? Unlikely.

  Perhaps though.

  Richard bypassed the crowd and went to the barricade. He climbed up o
nto the scaffold and turned to face the queue. “Hi, hello.” He cleared his throat. “I would just like to address you all briefly, if that’s okay.”

  People nodded. Some muttered.

  “Thank you. Many of you have already met me, but I would just like to introduce myself properly. I am Sergeant Richard Honeywell. Until the last few days, I worked at a desk and planned minor drug raids and arrests. I was never a soldier, and I can’t say I’ve ever been in real danger. I suspect that is true for most of us. Recently, I met a man who was a solider, however. He was at Hyde Park during last night’s attacks. Things went badly. London is abandoned—I don’t know if you already know that. The rest of the country is under threat too. It appears the enemy is everywhere.”

  A few of the crowd whimpered. A mother cupped her son’s ears.

  Jen looked up at him from the rear of the crowd. Dillon was eating a packet of crisps. Richard couldn’t help but look at them as he spoke. “Like many of you, I have a family to protect, and the urge to run away is strong. But there’s nowhere to run, I assure you. We will be forced to defend ourselves soon. Perhaps today. Eventually, those monsters we all saw on television will be here. What we do then will determine our futures. If we turn and run, the enemy will hunt us down and pick us off one by one. If we stand and fight…”

  “Why would we stand and fight when the British Army couldn’t?” an older man shouted.

  “Because you have no choice, sir. If you don’t fight, you will die. Maybe you’ll get to live a day longer by running, but you’ll die.”

  More whimpers from the crowd. “Stand and fight, and we have a chance. If groups like us resist, our numbers will begin to add up. Maybe we won’t survive—I hate to say it—but if we take some of the enemy with us, we make it that much easier for the next group of people forced to defend themselves. We will prepare, and do our best to be ready, but I urge you to conquer your fear and fight those sons of bitches. They are here to exterminate us. They are here to kill our children and step over our corpses. Are we going to let them?”

  “No,” said Shirley, giving Richard a supportive smile.

  “Fuck no!” said Aaron, standing in the chip shop’s doorway. He wore an apron and held a ladle in his hand which he thrust into the air triumphantly.

  “I’m with you,” shouted Jen.

  “Me too,” said someone Richard didn’t recognise.

  “What choice do we have?” cried someone else.

  A couple more spoke out in support, but the rest of the crowd did nothing more than mumble. It was impossible to know what they would do, but Richard was confident he had done all he could. He’d explained the odds and what was required. It was down to them now.

  “Good speech,” said Riaz once Richard had climbed down off the barricade. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For letting my hang-ups affect what you’re doing.”

  Richard frowned at him. “Just tell me what the problem is Riaz.”

  “My son was in the city. I haven’t heard from him since this began.”

  Richard felt the news like a gut punch. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know you—”

  “His mum and I are separated, but I visit him one weekend a month. Maybe we didn’t have the best father-son relationship, but he was my boy.”

  “I understand. How old is he?”

  “Six.”

  “You must have been young?”

  Riaz nodded. “I was twenty-two. Part of the reason it never worked out with Tariq’s mum. I was too involved in myself back then.”

  Tariq. Richard logged the name, wishing he knew more about his colleague. He patted him on the arm, but it was clear Riaz didn’t appreciate the contact. “Look, I can’t imagine what you must be feeling, but we are fighting here to stay alive. Tariq might still be out there. Give yourself a chance to find out.”

  “I think I already know well enough.”

  “Don’t give up on your son, Riaz. If you want to be a good father, don’t give up.”

  “HELP! Please, help.”

  Riaz and Richard looked around at the same time. The shouts came from beyond the barricade which was now too high to see above. Richard clambered back up onto the scaffold and looked towards the road. Two cars had pulled up on the curb, and people spilled out onto the pavement. The man shouting was covered in blood.

  “Help us, please. We have an injured man with us.”

  “Of course,” said Richard. “Let me make way for you.” He hopped back down from the barricade and grabbed Riaz. “Let’s move some of this out the way. We have people coming in.”

  Several volunteers helped, and together they pulled back the scaffolding poles and other junk piled up on top of an old Rover shunted up against the chip shop’s wall. By the time Richard got another view of the road, seven people were standing there. Four women and two men. The two men carried a third between them—an injured man.

  Glen.

  Riaz spluttered with surprise. “Glen! What happened to him?”

  The man who’d been shouting for help shook his head. “We don’t know. I found him lying by the side of the road. I was heading out of town, trying to find help. He’s in a bad way, but he told us to come find you all. Can we come in?”

  “Yes!” cried Richard. “Come on in.”

  They slid Glen across the Rover’s bonnet and allowed Riaz and Richard to grab a hold of him. While the newcomers climbed the barricade, Richard eased Glen onto the floor. He was muttering something.

  Richard frowned. “What is it, Glen? Tell me what happened?”

  “They… They’re here. They’re coming.”

  Glen lost consciousness just as Miles arrived with the things Richard had asked for.

  Rick Bastion

  Rick sat at his piano but didn’t feel like playing. The time had come to say goodbye to his beloved baby grand and his vast Edwardian home. Time to say goodbye to his life. And maybe hello to his death.

  Maybe then I’ll fade away

  and not have to face the facts.

  It’s not easy facing up when your whole world is black.

  Of course, he wasn’t alone. His companions—Maddy, Diane, and his brother Keith—all paddled the same sinking boat. The world ended the moment demons and angels invaded it. That Rick had fought and survived while millions of others died was enough to keep him fighting. It was his duty. His companions felt the same way. None of them intended to accept death.

  That was why they were leaving tonight beneath the cover of darkness. Rick’s home was surrounded by iron bars, but it had eventually been assaulted anyway. It was unsafe to remain, and their only chance of survival was to find help. Not that they were certain of finding any. Diane’s internet searches had grown bleaker by the minute, and only the Echo provided any meaningful hope. In the last few hours, their website had been down more often than it was up, but it was via the newspaper they had learned about the power of iron. The demons could not easily assail it and were injured by its touch.

  The other ace in their pocket was asleep on the living room couch. Daniel was a Fallen Angel. It was from him they had learned what was happening. The black stones around the world had summoned portals to Hell, and the damned were coming through them to claim the earth as their own. In doing so, their leader, The Red Lord, hoped to force a confrontation with God himself.

  Daniel was injured—possibly dying—and it was because he had given part of himself to bring Rick back from the dead after an ancient demon with long black hair had crushed his skull. Rick owed his life to the Fallen Angel.

  Maddy came up beside Rick, a blank expression on her face that suggested she was thinking.

  “You okay?” he asked her. “You’re thinking about your husband.” Maddy had wanted to go home to get her wedding ring, the only part of her deceased husband she could hold onto since his body was lost somewhere in the ruins of Milton Combe.

  She sighed. “One day, I will go home and grieve for him properly.”


  Rick smiled. “And I promise I will help you do just that.”

  “Thanks, Rick. You going to play something?”

  Rick looked at the ivory keys in front of him and reached out, fingers hovering. Instead of playing, he closed the lid. “My playing days are over. I’ve promised myself that one day, when all this is over, I’ll come back here and spend whatever days I have left playing music. Who knows, maybe I’ll even be a pop star again.”

  “I’ll be first in line to buy your CD.”

  “I’ve got our bags piled in the hallway,” said Keith, entering the living room. A large bruise stained his cheek from the last evening’s battle with the long-haired demon—which now lay dead in the garden along with several of its minions. The stench was growing pervasive.

  Rick climbed up from his stool and forced himself not to glance back at his piano. He’d said his goodbyes. It was time to go. “I’m ready if you are.”

  “We should get Diane to do one last check online,” said Maddy. “Check it’s still safe to head south.”

  It was a good idea, so they went into Rick’s oak-timbered office where Diane was napping. When she noticed them, she started—everyone’s nerves were on edge—and they asked her to do another check of the internet.

  “Sure,” she said, sleepily. “The connection is getting spotty, but I’ll give it a go.” She opened Rick’s laptop and tapped at the keyboard. “The Slough Echo is still up,” she said a moment later.

  “Any news?” asked Keith.

  “Hold on, let me see. Yeah, Portsmouth is still a safe zone. The Army is being recalled from abroad, and that’s where they are coming in. Apparently, the Echo has a military liaison at their office who is keeping them in the loop about things. The information should be up to date, and… hey, listen to this, someone managed to close one of the gates in Syria.”

  Keith frowned. “Syria? How does that help us?”

  “Because it shows there are ways to hit them back,” said Rick. “It shows other people are still fighting.”

  “Great. Another few thousand gates and we should be all back to normal.”