China

by Scott M. Baker

  Jason lifted his arms behind his head and stretched them on either side. “How do you know how long I’ve been asleep?”

  “I checked on you every few hours. Each time I came by you were dead to the world and didn’t even acknowledge me.”

  “Wow.” At least that explained why his dreams were so vivid. “You could have joined me.”

  Jeanette shook her head. “I love you, Jason, though not enough to sleep in the hay when there’s a perfectly comfortable bed a few cars down. Besides, there was no room.”

  Lucifer barked once. Lilith leaned her head back and gave Jason three licks on the face. He scratched each of them behind the ears and got to his feet. “Why did we stop?”

  “I don’t know. Svetlana sent me to get you. She wants us at the front of the train.”

  Jason let Jeanette lead the way. Lucifer and Lilith fell in behind them. Colonel Svetlana Yakolevna Krayevsky stood by the cowcatcher of the LV class steam locomotive. A wind blowing from the south folded her chest-length red hair across her face, partially hiding the scar that ran down her features and the black patch covering her left eye. Svetlana focused her attention on the tracks ahead of her.

  As Jason approached, he asked, “Have we reached Harbin?”

  “We’ve reached the end of the line, my friend.”

  He followed her gaze. A one-hundred-foot segment of track had been systematically destroyed. The rails had been removed and the wooden ties dug up, placed in a pile, and set on fire. The rails had then been thrown on top of the flames. Two had bent from the heat, rendering them useless.

  “There’s no way to repair this,” said Svetlana. “Thankfully, we’re less than ten miles from Harbin, so you’ll be able to continue on foot.”

  Jason studied the damaged segment of rail line. “They did a thorough job.”

  “Obviously someone in Harbin doesn’t want visitors,” said Jeanette.

  Svetlana shook her head. “I’m more concerned that someone in Harbin doesn’t want its citizens getting out.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Jason and Jeanette stood in the command car around the remnants of a rectangular table that served as the conference table. Joining them were Haneef, Jason’s second in command; Father Belsario, the head of the Purgatoriati, who examined the others with his cold brown eyes; and Dr. Ustagov, the Russian scientist who accompanied them as a medic. Svetlana rummaged through her white metal desk, eventually pulling a map from the drawer. As the colonel crossed over to the others, she folded the edges underneath to expose the central portion and placed it on the corner of the table that had not been damaged. Jason frowned. All the places names were printed in Chinese characters and Cyrillic.

  Svetlana pointed to the large city near the top edge of the map. “This is Harbin. We’re ten miles southwest of the city’s train station.” She ran her finger along the main road leading south from the city. Two major population centers sat along that route. As her finger passed each point, she said, “This is Changchun. This is Shenyang. According to our best information, the portal is somewhere between Harbin and Shenyang, and is within a twenty-mile radius of this corridor.”

  “Where does that information come from?” Jason asked.

  “When we left for Siberia, General Zhirinovsky began asking around on the radio to find out if anyone knew anything that could help on this leg of your expedition. A PLA contingent held up in an underground bunker outside of Beijing radioed us back. The Chinese sent out several recon patrols to determine its exact location, and none of them have been heard from. They did, however, agree to give it one more try.”

  “When will they get back to us?” asked Father Belsario.

  Svetlana shook her head. “They won’t. More accurately, if they do, we won’t know about it.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Jeanette.

  Svetlana motioned for Ustagov to answer. The doctor removed his reading glasses and tapped one arm against his lower lip. “The closer we get to Harbin, the more sporadic our radio signals have been. We lost all contact with Moscow early this morning. I assume it has something to do with the fact that the closer we get to the Chinese portal the greater is the interference.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Jason. He pointed to the Harbin-Changchun-Shenyang road on the map. “If it’s anywhere along this route, we’ll find it.”

  “It shouldn’t take you long,” said Svetlana. “By horse, it will take you two to three weeks to reach Shenyang.”

  “Good. The sooner we can get this over with the better.”

  Svetlana folded the map and handed it to Jason. “You’ll need this more than I do.”

  “Thanks, but I can’t read Russian or Chinese.”

  “You don’t have to. The doctor can translate for you.”

  “One of the many services I provide,” said Ustagov, attempting to be humorous.

  Svetlana cast the doctor a disapproving glare before continuing. “Even though you have only a two- to three-week trip ahead of you, I’m giving your team most of our supplies.”

  “What will you do for food?” asked Father Belsario.

  “There’s only four of us left so we can go on reduced rations for the trip home. You have no idea what you’ll find in China, so you can use it more than we can. I’m also trading weapons with your people.”

  “Why do that? Our weapons work fine.”

  “Your weapons are FAMAS automatic rifles, which use 5.56mm NATO rounds. You’ll be hard pressed to find replacement ammunition in China. The 7.62mm rounds for our AK-47s are common throughout this part of Asia, so it’ll be easier for you to restock.”

  “Won’t you need them?” asked Jeanette.

  The colonel shook her head. “Thanks to you, I doubt we’ll run into any difficulties on the way back.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  Svetlana nodded. “I’m also giving you our winter coats.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not asking. I’m volunteering.” When Jason opened his mouth to protest, Svetlana raised her hand and cut him off. “I don’t want any arguments. It’s already getting cold in Manchuria. In a couple of weeks, it’ll be winter, and without heavy clothing, you won’t survive long.”

  Jason relented because he knew everything Svetlana said made sense. In a week, the colonel and her men would be back in Moscow: God only knew how long Jason’s team would be on the move. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “You already have by closing down the portals in Moscow and Irkutsk. All of Russia is grateful. This is the least we can do.”

  Jason blushed. Jeanette reached out and squeezed his hand.

  Svetlana checked her watch. “It’ll be dark in six hours. Do you want to spend the night here and head out in the morning?”

  “No. I don’t want to waste any time. If we move now, we can make it to the outskirts of Harbin by nightfall and set up camp there, and then clear the city while we have a full day of sunlight tomorrow.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” Svetlana banged her right hand on the table. “I’ll have my men get your horses ready.”

  * * *

  Jason leaned against the armored steam engine’s cowcatcher, overseeing the preparations for departure. Except for the Purgatoriati, who wore their breastplates and cloaks, and Dr. Ustagov, who sported a Spetsnaz four-color camouflage uniform, each of his team was dressed in the same green flightsuits they had started out with from Mont St. Michel. After so many months in the field, the flightsuits had become soiled and weathered, giving his team the appearance of a gang of drifters rather than a coordinated fighting unit. The addition of the winter gear Svetlana had gifted masked their haggard appearance. Most of his people were given the traditional Russian army winter coat with flora camouflage coloring and grey fur collars. The women were supplied with Soviet-era winter jackets designed for Afghanistan, which were tan with grey fur collars. Svetlana had saved the best for Jason—her grey wool overcoat with the black
fur collar. He felt self-conscious in it because the coat made him stand out from the others; however, he would never have insulted Svetlana by refusing to accept it.

  Sook-kyoung and Vicky unloaded the horses from the stock car, saddled them up, and brought them to where the others gathered around the steam engine. The Demon Hunters checked the packs and supplies. Jason had opted to travel only with the necessities. The minigun had been destroyed while closing the Irkutsk portal, so Jason assigned Haneef to carry one of the remaining antimatter devices; Ustagov and Sook-kyoung were responsible for the last two. Each device had been carefully packed to survive the rigors of the trip, being encased inside a pad of dark grey foam rubber two feet square that was then inserted into a saddle bag. Since Ustagov did not have a horse, he would use Neal’s. Once Jason’s team was ready, he pushed himself off the cowcatcher and made his way through the group, advising his people they should move out. As they mounted their horses, Jason walked over to Svetlana, who stood by the engineer’s compartment.

  She snapped at attention as he approached. “Is it time?”

  “I’m afraid it is.” Jason reached under his overcoat and unlatched the crossbow from his belt. He handed it to Svetlana.

  “You won’t need it?”

  “I’ve been carrying it since Paris and have hardly used it. It’s not very effective against ravagers and dragons. I want you to have it as a token of my appreciation.”

  Svetlana took the crossbow and examined it. “Once we get this world back into shape, the Russian people will write songs about you and the Demon Hunters.”

  Jason suppressed a groan of frustration at the thought of being immortalized in folk ballads, although it was a small price to pay for saving the world. He offered the colonel his hand. “Thank you for everything.”

  Instead of shaking it, Svetlana pulled Jason close, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him on each cheek. When finished, she took his hands in her own and stepped back, letting their arms dangle between them. “You are a strong, decent man. Your mother would be proud.”

  Jason did not know how to respond.

  Svetlana broke away, headed back to the train, and climbed up into the engineer’s compartment. Jason returned to his team. Without saying a word, he mounted his horse and spurred it on. Lilith and Lucifer joined him on either side. The rest of his team followed.

  Jason heard the steam engine’s whistle blow. Looking over his shoulder, he watched as the train lurched and inched backward down the track, slowly gathering speed. Within a few minutes, the engine had traveled out of sight, with only a plume of thick black smoke marking its location. Jason felt a twinge of regret and apprehension. He was leaving behind new friends. He was also leaving behind the safety of the train and the firepower it provided. His team would never have made it this far without Svetlana. They were now on their own again. Even though Jason would never admit it to the others, he felt uncertain if they were up to the task. Months on the road had whittled their numbers, their strength, and their morale. With each portal being defended by an increasing number of demons, many more ferocious than those encountered before, the odds of success were turning against them.

  Jason faced forward and led his team down the tracks. Harbin lay ahead of them.

  Beyond that lay the unknown.

  Chapter Three

  The Demon Hunters bunked down in an old warehouse along the train tracks on the southwest outskirts of Harbin. The building had two advantages. Not only was it large enough to comfortably house his team and their horses, it also stood isolated from the few buildings that surrounded it, making it impossible for anything to sneak up on them. Jason figured the latter would not be an issue. All afternoon, they had come across an abundance of wildlife, mostly deer, small animals, and a few cows and pigs, indicating the absence of predators. As the others gathered around the campfire and prepared dinner, Jason stood outside examining the city’s skyline, which cast a dark shadow against the moonlit sky. From this distance, it appeared as a desolate landscape, with no lights or fires, no activity, and no signs of life, either human or demon.

  Footsteps crunched against gravel. A moment later, Father Belsario stepped up beside him. “I hope I didn’t startle you.”

  “If you were coming after me, I probably wouldn’t have heard you until it was too late.”

  “Where are Lilith and Lucifer? They usually stick with you.”

  Jason gestured toward the warehouse. “They’re hanging around the fire hoping to mooch some dinner. They have their priorities.”

  Father Belsario chuckled and then became serious again. “Matthew, Luther, and I are setting up the perimeter watch. Do you feel comfortable with having only three people, or do you want more?”

  “I think three is okay per shift. I’ll have my people relieve you at ten o’clock.”

  “That’s not necessary. Remember, we don’t need to rest as you do. We’ll be fine until morning. Excuse me, please.”

  As the cleric walked off, Jason studied him. The Purgatoriati were an unusual and macabre addition to his team, yet one that had made the difference between life and death, success and failure. When the apocalypse began, Father Belsario had wanted to raise an army in Heaven to help Jason battle the Demon Spawn but could find no one willing to give up paradise, even temporarily. He then traveled to Purgatory to recruit, offering a commutation of banishment in exchange for service. Four men had volunteered—Gabriel, who had engaged in the slave trade until his own family was captured and sold, had died outside of Minsk; Jonah, who had renounced his religion to save his life when Jerusalem fell to the enemy during the Crusades, had died battling demons in Red Square; Luther, whose faith in science over religion had denied him salvation; and Matthew, the Knights Templar who had slaughtered innocents and died from typhus before he could atone for his sins. And, of course, Sasha, who had been drafted because, according to Father Belsario, she would play an important role in their future. When they had first met up with Jason’s team outside of Minsk, no one had trusted them. That mistrust vanished after the first encounter with the Demon Spawn. The Purgatoriati fought with the same ferocity as the demons, and with their unlimited stamina took down as many of the creatures as the rest of the team combined. Since they were already dead, the Purgatoriati could not be killed in the traditional sense, so when one fell in combat, they would come back from Purgatory and rejoin the expedition. They had proved a Godsend to Jason because the Demon Hunters’ numbers were dwindling rapidly.

  Of the original twenty-one Demon Hunters who had set out for Paris to close the first portal, only seven had made it back to Mont St. Michel. Bolstered by four recruits, the team had then set out for Russia, losing another three of its members before closing the portals in Moscow and Siberia. The only reason the casualties remained so low was that the Russians and the Purgatoriati had joined their ranks, losing scores of their own soldiers and two Purgatoriati in the process. Now that his team was on its own again, Jason knew the death toll would climb significantly. If France was any indication of the losses they could suffer, he would be lucky to have anyone left by the time they reached the States.

  Strolling back to the warehouse, Jason stopped at the entrance and watched the others around the campfire. Ian had found a dented cooking pot that he had cleaned up as best he could and hung over the flames to make dinner. Lucifer sat beside Ian, dutifully waiting for his turn to be fed. Lilith curled up beside Jeanette. Although he had barely known these people four months ago, the time spent on this journey had forged an unbreakable link between them. Jason considered them his family. To his surprise, the toughest part about going into combat was not battling Demon Spawn; it was watching his friends die. He had done too much of that lately. Sadly, he knew he would be experiencing it again.

  Haneef, Slava, Antoine, and Sook-kyoung had been part of the group since the beginning, and Jeanette had joined them on the way to Paris. Haneef, quiet and pleasant, had been an exchange student from Sudan who had been caught in Pari
s when the portals opened. Slava was the opposite. A former street thug from Moscow, he fit the part: tall, muscular, spiked hair, and not very bright. Slava had proven himself to be an excellent fighter and fiercely loyal, which made him invaluable. Antoine had a background like Slava’s. He had been an enforcer in a Moroccan gang in Chartres before the apocalypse, and eventually wound up at Mont St. Michel. Mean and violent on the battlefield, with his friends he remained self-effacing. Sook-kyoung had been in France as an exchange student from the University of Seoul when all Hell broke loose; although quiet and unassuming, she possessed a black belt in Taekwondo that made her as tough as the others. Jeanette had joined when the Demon Hunters were taken in by the Enclave, and she had agreed to lead them to the portal. She was roughly the same age as Jason and just as determined. Even the dirty, weathered flightsuit could not detract from her soft face, dimples, and long brunette hair. These five were his most trusted confidants as well as his fiercest fighters. They had witnessed horrors in Paris that the others in the group could barely imagine. That experience had changed them. It made them tough and determined, and it bonded them in a way only those who had undergone combat together could fully understand. Jason knew that any one of them would give their lives for him in a heartbeat, and he would do the same for them.

  Ian, Gaston, and Vicky had been added prior to leaving for Moscow. An evolutionary biologist from Australia, Ian had asked to be part of what he viewed as a scientific expedition, and Jason had agreed because he felt Ian’s expertise would come in handy, which it had. Gaston was slightly younger, in his mid-thirties, stout with scraggly dark hair. He had lost his farm when it had been overrun by Demon Spawn and wanted to join since he had nothing left. Jason brought him along for his survivalist skills. Vicky, the youngest member, not quite sixteen years old, had sad, dark brown eyes that mirrored all she had been through. She possessed no fighting skills, could barely handle a weapon, and had limited medical experience from working in her parents’ apothecary. Jason had allowed her to join so she could escape a predatory situation back at Mont St. Michel. So far, Vicky had not disappointed him. None of the newcomers had let down the team, nor did he expect them to. However, the reality remained that these three were the least experienced, and as such were the most likely not to survive the next encounter with the demons, especially Vicky.