Hell on Earth Trilogy: The Complete Apocalyptic Saga

by Iain Rob Wright

  The enemy moved closer.

  Wickstaff turned to Sergeant Martinhal and snatched the radio again. “All units in Zone 2, fall back to inner perimeter. Artillery Groups 2 and 4, reduce Zone 2 to dust. I want to see Australia through the craters you leave.”

  “Roger that.”

  She kept hold of the radio, but handed the sniper rifle to the sergeant who would put it to better use than her.

  “Are you okay?” Maddy asked, suddenly reminding the general of her presence. A civilian.

  Wickstaff nodded. “The whole humanity in peril thing is old hat now, my love.”

  “What can I do to help, General?”

  “Keep a clear head for me. Giving orders is a lonely business. I need someone I can curse at if the need arises. Sorry, Maddy, but you’ve got that job.”

  “It’s an honour. Mind if I swear back at you?”

  “Fire away.”

  “Send those fuckers straight back to Hell, General.”

  Wickstaff chuckled. Maddy was exactly what she needed right now—an anchor to keep her feet on the ground while she made decisions that could end the human race.

  Or save it.

  Somehow that was the prospect that scared her more.

  “By the time I’m through with these bastards, Maddy, Hell will look pretty goddamn inviting. Speaking of which, I think I hear the gods whistling.”

  Maddy frowned, but then tilted her head as she too caught the sound. Overhead, the starry sky lit up as a dozen fireflies sliced gracefully through the air. Fireflies that whistled as they fell.

  “Cover your ears,” barked Sergeant Martinhal.

  The gods roared.

  A massive wall of fire leapt up from the heart of the city. Buildings tore apart like matchstick models and abandoned cars cartwheeled twenty feet through the air. The massive heat and ensuing concussion vaporised the demons so quickly that they didn't even have time to scream. They were simply gone, replaced by a flaming crater.

  The guard tower wobbled, and the stepladder swung to-and-fro on the rope it was secured with. Wickstaff and the others hung on for dear life and almost fell to their deaths by the time the second barrage was through. Wickstaff had to blink several times just to work out which way she was facing. Once she reoriented herself, she turned the air blue with cursing.

  A dozen infernos lit the night brighter than day now, and the full enemy force revealed itself.

  Thousands.

  Tens of thousands of the wretched monsters.

  Wickstaff knew she had sentenced soldiers to death with the artillery barrages, as not all would have escaped the blast radius, but she understood now it had been the right decision. The massive bombardment devastated the enemy vanguard and tore apart several-hundred demons at least, but it had done something even more important: bombed-out buildings crumpled and fell across the roads. Massive piles of masonry blocked the enemy approach and bought Portsmouth more time.

  Wickstaff studied the battlefield and felt a mixture of hope and despair. The first round had gone to mankind, but their real foe was only now approaching. Lord Amon stomped towards his front lines, demons parting before him like butter on each side of a hot knife. Once he reached the ruined outskirts of Portsmouth, he stopped and stared. Wickstaff was certain he was staring right at her.

  Then the angel took another giant step forward and grabbed hold of an upended camper van. With terrifying strength, Lord Amon plucked the van up off the ground and held it over his head, before launching it like a javelin. The boxy vehicle struck the roof of a nearby office building and shattered a vast chunk of it. Wickstaff covered her mouth as three soldiers plummeted to their deaths from their hiding places. The angel's message was clear:

  “You can’t hide. You can’t run.”

  Before Wickstaff looked away in total horror, she watched Lord Amon pluck a fourth soldier from a hiding place inside a shop doorway. In one giant hand, he clutched the woman by her ankles and bellowed with laughter as he tore her torso in two. He tossed the pieces into the air like bread for the birds.

  You can't hide.

  You can't run.

  Richard Honeywell

  Corporal Martin had been trying his radio for the last two hours, but Portsmouth didn't respond. Richard wanted to say something encouraging to the soldier, but there was nothing that would be believable. He grew more and more desperate by the minute.

  Their one hope was fading.

  Dawn broke, but the rain remained a downpour. Puddles formed sucking quagmires in the mud, sapping the group's strength and making walking a chore. The group's mood had been sullen since the grisly scene in the barn, and necessity had forced them to spend the night there inside the house. Everyone had been eager to depart the exact moment the first bird chirped. Now the farm lay several hours in the group's rear mirror, but still their spirits remained low.

  Richard put an arm across Dillon’s shoulders, trying to keep him dry. With his other hand, he shielded his eyes. “We should find more shelter or go back to the farm. This rain will be the death of us.”

  “Portsmouth is only a half-day away,” argued Corporal Martin. “We can’t afford to stop now.”

  “But they haven’t responded since last night. We don’t know Portsmouth is safe anymore.”

  “It’s the only destination we have, Richard. We won't be safe anyplace else. We’ve endured worse than a little rain.”

  Richard sighed. True, a bit of rain seemed silly to complain about considering what they had survived, but his instincts were to keep Dillon warm, dry, and fed. Difficult to override fatherly instincts, and he looked at his son now, he found it hard to consider enduring anymore of this weather.

  “Dillon, are you okay?”

  His son glanced across at him and nodded. His thin blonde hair was plastered to his scalp with rainwater. “I want to go somewhere with more people. I want to keep on going.”

  “See!” said Corporal Martin. “It’s only you being soft, Richard.”

  Richard grunted. “Like with the chickens, you mean?”

  “Let’s just get to Portsmouth, okay?”

  The march continued in silence, the only person talking was Carol. The old editor regaled Alice of her time in Africa as an aid worker. Alice responded that her father helped people too, and that they would get along when they met. Richard admired the American girl’s defiance, still believing she would get her happy ending. Meeting her father was a matter of when, not if.

  The countryside ceased and they entered a built-up area leading to the South Coast. The first things they scouted were a Ford dealership and a set of train tracks. Blocking their view further was a massive plot of half-built houses. Ironic, as there would now be far more houses than there were people living. It would be a long, long time before people ran out of living space again—and that was only if humanity survived.

  “Think we can grab ourselves some motors?” asked David. “I’ve always fancied one of those big Ford pickups. They seemed built for banging up and getting dirty.”

  “Ranger,” said Richard.

  “Huh?”

  “The pickup that Ford makes is called a Ranger. I impounded one a few months ago on a drugs bust. Proceeds of crime seizure.”

  “Well, maybe we can rustle up a few Rangers then and drive the last stretch to Portsmouth.”

  “We’ll check things out,” said Corporal Martin. “Might not be a bad idea.”

  Talk of procuring a fleet of cars lifted the group’s spirits, and people started nattering again, sharing stories of vehicles they had once owned themselves, as well as cars they would have liked to own. The apocalypse wasn't all bad. You could take whatever you found, and a car dealership became a playground.

  The group reached the dealership's cement forecourt and spread out, searching. Men and women both stopped to glide appreciative hands over shining bonnets and boots.

  Richard wasn’t much of a car guy, but he allowed Dillon to run off with Alice to climb and play. It seemed safe
enough. David ran off too and gave a triumphant cheer when he found a brand-new Ranger in white. The paintwork was filthy from dust, but the placard's exorbitant price betrayed its unused condition. David leapt up into the rear bed and bounced like a clown. Dillon and Alice saw him and quickly climbed up to join. The three of them laughed like idiots.

  Richard smiled.

  “David always did like his toys,” said Carol conspiratorially. “He used to be a right pain in my arse, always moaning about his pay, like he was bloody Louis Theroux or something.”

  Richard nodded, eyes still on the two children and childish adult. “I forgot you two go way back.”

  “Way, way back. I still remember hiring the arrogant sod. Wet-behind the ears graduate who thought he knew it all, he was, but I always knew he would make a good journalist. Contrary to what one might believe, the best reporters are the ones with the biggest moral compasses. David lost his way for a while, let his ego rule him, but I’m proud of how much he’s risen to this challenge. After Mina died…”

  “I never met her, but I’ve heard about her.”

  “A nice girl. Real shame what happened to her. David took it hard. The anger inside him... When he took it out on the demon, we had tied up... I won't deny it frightened me. I think being around your son and Alice pulled him back from the brink.”

  “Andras…” Richard remembered what a mess David had made of the angel, disguised as a human. A real mess.

  Carol nodded, her voice a whisper. “We all lost something after Andras. It made us realise how evil those bastards are. Just look at what they did with your wife.”

  Richard grunted.

  “Sorry. I'm just saying, we owe it to all the people we've lost to make those bastards pay, but it's important to keep a hold of what makes us human. Or else what's the point?”

  Richard continued watching Dillon and Alice bouncing alongside David and saw the truth of it. The children kept everybody’s hope alive. They were a reminder of what they were all surviving for.

  Carol half-turned, her attention moving someplace else. “Now that is a thing of beauty.”

  Richard followed the woman's gaze until he saw what she was referring to. He let out a whistle. “It certainly is.”

  Sitting inside the glass-fronted showroom was a low-slung sports car in fire engine red. The modern blue Mustang parked beside it looked bulky and unsophisticated by comparison. Carol rushed inside; not even checking the front door was unlocked as she charged through it. Richard gave chase, worried for her safety, but also eager to see the beautiful piece of human engineering for himself. He wasn't a car guy, but he wasn't blind either. Some things were just indescribably flawless.

  Carol clapped her hands like an excited schoolgirl. “Ford GT 2016. This baby must have made it here just days before the world ended. Who knew it would be one of mankind’s final accomplishments? A beast hiding beneath a masterpiece.”

  “She sure is beautiful, Carol. I never pegged you as a petrol head.”

  She ran her hands over the curved bonnet. “Are you kidding? When I was a younger gal, I owned a Lotus Esprit. Payments cost more than my mortgage, but damn if it wasn't worth it. My old Lotus was nothing compared to this though. The original GT was a beauty itself, but somehow they improved on it.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Richard said again, not knowing what else he could add. If he had known anything about engines, he would have spat out some specifications, perhaps.

  “It’s mine,” said Carol with a grin. “Find me the keys.”

  Richard chuckled. “Erm, okay.”

  Luckily, the keys were hanging from an open lock box in the back office. When shit had gone down, the staff had obviously fled without giving a thought about locking up. It worked out well for Carol.

  Richard handed over the key ring with the car's registration number on it. “I think this is the key, but it’s weird.”

  Carol snatched it like Gollum grabbing his Precious. “It’s an e-key,” she explained. “You only need to have it on you to start the car.”

  “Neat.”

  She pulled open the driver’s door and pointed at the dashboard to a large red button that said START, then jabbed it with her finger. The engine roared to life, and she seemed to breathe it in for a moment, closing her eyes and smiling serenely. “Isn’t that the most beautiful sound you ever heard?”

  “Hey, hey!” Corporal Martin came striding in. “Turn that thing off. The noise will attract every demon for a hundred miles.”

  Sheepishly, Carol thumbed the START button again, and the dragon went back to sleep. “I suppose it is a little impractical.”

  “You think? Come on, we’ve found a couple of panel vans around back. Three should hold everyone, so we’ll divide into teams. Me, David, and you, Richard.”

  Richard raised an eyebrow. “You want me to lead a team?”

  “I just want you to drive a van full of people, but yes you should also lead. You’re a police officer.”

  “Was a police officer.”

  “Whatever. Just get away from that teenage wet dream and come help with something useful.”

  Richard and Carol exchanged chastised glances, and both fought emerging grins. Corporal Martin stormed off, leaving them alone a moment to get their giggling over with.

  “Suppose we should do as we’re told,” said Richard.

  Carol patted him on the back. “I think that lad fancies me, you know?”

  “Ha! I think you might be right. Come on.”

  They went outside and headed after Corporal Martin who was disappearing around the far side of the showroom. Most of the group were already out of sight, likely assembled near the aforementioned vans. David, however, was still in the back of the truck with the kids. They had stopped their jumping and were now just sitting and talking.

  “You'll have to start paying him for babysitting,” said Carol.

  “Yeah, I think I wi—” Richard flew forward as something struck him between the shoulder blades. He tried to stay on his feet, but his balance had deserted him and he ended up on his hands and knees.

  Carol cried out.

  David shouted.

  The kids screamed

  Dazed, Richard rolled onto his back. Carol struggled a few feet away from him, demons closing in from all sides. They seemed to be emerge from the landscape itself, filtering from the distant tree line or from behind abandoned vehicles. Of the ones who had already got close, Carol cursed and kicked at them, but a clawed hand shot out and snapped her wrist. A tirade of foul language spewed from her mouth in reply. Richard clambered to his feet, rushed to her aid, yanking a knife from his belt and burying it in the chest of the demon that had broken her arm. The blade stuck, so he threw a punch at the next demon. A third leapt out of the crowd and pummelled him before he could defend, knocking him to the ground.

  More demons snatched Carol, yanking her arms at unnatural angles.

  “Get off her, you bastards!”

  David appeared and launched himself into the fray, tossing aside one demon then head butting another. With his ruined, snarling face, he looked like one of them. Carol had only one good arm, but she swung it like a club. Richard tried to get up and help them, but a demon leapt on him and pinned him down. Far off, he heard Dillon scream.

  “Daddy, Daddy.”

  More demons swarmed the dealership, scurrying between cars and leaping the low chain-fence separating the forecourt from the road. Demons everywhere. Where had they come from?

  Richard squirmed, managing to avoid a sharp swipe aimed at his jugular. The foul creature on top of him was too strong to escape, and each swipe got a little closer. He fought back with his fists, but it was only delaying the inevitable. He tasted blood when a claw finally sliced a burning canyon from his eyebrow to his lip.

  The creature stunk of piss and shit.

  “Fuck you!” Richard spat. “You'll always be damned. Hell will follow you wherever you go. So... Fuck... You!”

  The demon glare
d, blackened teeth thick with decay. Its eyes were human, but whatever lay beyond them was anything but. Nothing existed inside this creature but the darkest and most base instincts of a predator. The need to kill and devour.

  Richard closed his eyes. It was over.

  Dillon continued screaming, even more distant.

  Gunfire pierced the air. The weight fell away from Richard's chest, and he was back on his feet, confused. He spun around, trying to work out what had happened. A demon now lay dead at his feet.

  Carol was sprawled on the ground. David fought to get to her. When he saw Richard standing, he yelled. “Help her, man. Get her out of here.”

  Another gunshot took the head off a demon coming towards Richard. He glanced back to see Corporal Martin and his soldiers taking aim and firing in a line.

  Richard dropped his shoulder and barged a demon aside as he made his way forward. Carol bled from a wound on her neck, and was cradling her snapped wrist, but she was alive. Still swearing like a trooper. He reached out with both hands and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to safety. She was stick thin, and with the adrenaline in his system, he was able to scoop her up like a baby.

  More bullets tore up the demons.

  Richard staggered back with Carol in his arms. She muttered to him as he dragged her away. “D-David. You have to help David.”

  “One thing at a time, Carol.”

  David was surrounded, his burnt face contorted with rage. He was lashing out with a blade, slicing the demons left and right, or shoving them back so Corporal Martin and his soldiers could take a clear shot.

  But it was useless.

  A dozen monsters closed in on David at once, and Richard lost sight of him in the pack. He did not scream, only shouted and swore, insulting the monsters even as they surrounded him. Eventually, his curses stopped and thick red blood rolled across the concrete beneath the demon's clawed feet.

  Victorious, the monsters turned around to face Richard and Carol who were still yet to escape. Richard held Carol against his chest and whispered in her ear. “Don’t look, sweetheart.”