Hell Patrol

by R. D. Tarver

  He recalled Agostino’s hypothesis, “…a catalyst to some sort of bio-energy transference that converts the biochemical essence of the host into a palatable form of energy that will sustain the sonopods’ passage into our world for a mass feeding.”

  Above the fluid-filled chambers, row upon row of clear capsules were stacked several stories high, many of which were occupied by human captives. Farther still, spanning from the midsection of the chrysalis to the top-most extent of the structure were even more rows of capsules that remained fully empty. In all, the structure was reminiscent of an ear of corn that someone had eaten from the top down, bursting with ripe, untouched kernels at its base.

  Fashioned from the same organic concretion that formed the support structure of the chrysalis, a narrow spiral walkway had been formed around its exterior, trailing upwards, running from the cavern floor to the very top of the immense structure.

  In the distance, barely visible in the scant light provided by the helmet’s night vision, similar structures were being developed around lesser columns throughout the cavern.

  Jesse scanned the rows of capsules that appeared to contain recently captured townsfolk. He recognized some of the faces even through the low-light filter of the visor. A majority of the captives appeared yet to be processed by the infernal machine—recent additions, he reasoned, taken from the night of the Community Cleansing.

  His eyes stopped as they fell upon Mr. Summers, his hand outstretched towards his son, Kenny, who lay unconscious in one of the adjacent pods.

  Jesse muttered in disbelief into the comm mic inside the helmet. “Half the goddamned town is down here.”

  A static-filled, garbled response echoed in his ear as Agostino’s voice broke through the interference, “…band is ready. Once Amduscias appears…to the surface.”

  “Right on cue,” Jesse whispered into the mic.

  A swirling vortex opened up near the chrysalis. The portal came to life, pulsating and expanding to accommodate the dark shapes that began to take form inside of it.

  The nexus.

  Amduscias materialized, passing through the open nexus along with a throng of recently infected hosts plucked from the Macomb Springs populace. A handful of the lurking, skeletal harvester drones and their hell hound sentinels passed through the nexus last, ushering the new arrivals towards the towering chrysalis.

  The townsfolk were marched up the inclined walkway in a slow, almost ceremonial procession; plodding along without protest, interring themselves into the next available cells in an obedient offering to their new master.

  Against the dark backdrop of the cavern, Jesse could see a faint umbilicus of energy being drawn from the great demon into the heart of the nexus. Amduscias flickered into being and rose to its full towering height. Jesse watched in horror as a second shimmering umbilicus erupted from the Rift Lord’s chambered resonating organ and attached itself to the battery of captive human hosts. As it did, the shimmering vortex of the nexus seemed to grow.

  He scanned the structure, desperate for any sign of Mal within the chambered tower. The efficiency of the sonopods’ operation was repulsive, yet wondrous at the same time.

  His heart stopped as he saw the body of a young woman lying slumped against one of the translucent walls of one of the center-most capsules. A tangled mop of dyed black hair pressed against both sides of her face. Her darkened eyelids fluttered momentarily as the procession of host automatons stumbled past.

  Jesse whispered to himself, forgetting about the helmet mic. “I’m here, Mal. I found you—and you’re still alive.”

  Without hesitation, Jesse pressed play on the cassette player. The second track, “Hell Patrol,” raged forth from The Ripper as he charged into the gathering of hell hounds and harvester drones at the base of the chrysalis.

  Like wildfire, comes roaring, mad whirlwind, burning the road…

  Jesse screamed involuntarily as The Ripper tore through the ranks of the Stygian horde like a sonic juggernaut. A ten-foot radius of weaponized sound carved through the otherworldly legion with each beat of the drum and screech of distorted guitar.

  The harvester drones ceased in their corralling of the townsfolk to focus on the interloper threatening the desecration of their ritual. As the drones fell into the radius of The Ripper, their ears burst in small explosions of viscous mucus. Many of the more ancient lurkers burst altogether as they tried in vain to stop the intruder.

  Black thunder, white lightning, speed demons cry—the Hell Patrol…

  Jesse fought his way to the spiral walkway and began to climb. He pushed his way through his fellow townsfolk—now empty-minded zombies destined to become adrenaline smoothies—and trudged up the incline, feeling every ounce of the heavy suit as his legs carried him forward. The captive human hosts fell to the ground, clutching their ears, as the governing parasites were forced out of symbiosis by The Ripper’s sonic onslaught.

  Night riders, death dealers, storm bringers, tear up the ground…

  As he traversed up and around the chrysalis, he could see a second contingent of lurkers amassing below on the walkway. Even in the greenish hue of the helmet’s night-vision visor, the harvester drones were easy to identify from their host counterparts. Jesse could tell them apart from their antiquated dress, and the deteriorating condition of the human bodies being driven by the sonopod parasites.

  He had seen more than one harvester among the horde that did not appear to be wholly human.

  Finally, he reached Mal’s capsule. As he pushed through the cell’s thick, translucent membrane, The Ripper’s sonic field resonated through the confined chamber. Mal collapsed, convulsing on her back while clutching both sides of her head.

  “I got you,” Jesse said. “This might hurt a little.” He held her up as the nodular parasite was expelled in a wash of fluid from both ear canals.

  After her fit subsided, he pressed stop on the cassette deck, pulled her out on the walkway, and lifted the visor.

  “Everything is going to be okay,” Jesse spoke, more to himself as Mal fluttered on the edge of consciousness. “Now we just need to get the hell out of here.”

  As Mal lost consciousness, Jesse surveyed the path ahead. Only way out is the way through. Before he could hoist Mal over his shoulder, he was stopped in his tracks by the advancing column of harvester drones that lumbered towards his position on the walkway.

  At the head of the column strode a familiar figure, more ambulatory than its ancient, skeletal counterparts.

  He closed the helmet visor to engage the night vision to be sure his eyes did not deceive him. But there, on the walkway, closing in, was the unmistakable frown cast by Principal Anderson. The standard-issue pantsuit was torn and frayed, and the wreath of tightly set curls was in disarray, but it was her—or at least what used to be her.

  Jesse pressed play on the cassette deck.

  Fist flying, eyes blazing, they’re glory bound—the Hell Patrol…

  Without hesitation, he strode towards his former adversary and braced for impact. The lurker—formerly known as Principal Anderson—recoiled from the wall of sound emitting from the suit, its face twisted with rage. He met the automaton head-on until it was inside The Ripper’s sonic radius.

  The enslaved principal fell to the walkway and clawed frantically at her ears. A gush of fluid streamed out of her nostrils and ear canals. Jesse looked on as one of the parasites that squirmed out from Anderson’s left ear began to bubble up within its mucus sac like a fried egg until it exploded on the walkway next to its host.

  Believing the lurker threat to be neutralized, Jesse turned to retrieve Mal. Instead, he found himself alone on the walkway.

  His eyes darted towards movement on the path below. Mal’s body was being pulled behind a demonic harvester the likes of which Jesse had yet to observe in the wild. Unlike the lurkers that he and the others had witnessed up to this poit, those who had taken on human hosts, Jesse was gazing upon the corporeal form of a non-human being.

>   The creature had rough, spiny skin, including several progressively larger horns that ran up the length of its spine to the tip of its skull. In its wake, a barbed, prehensile tail thrashed angrily behind it as the lurker carried Mal toward the bottom of the chrysalis.

  She had summoned the strength to kick and flail against her captor, slowing the demon enough for Jesse to catch up.

  Using the higher ground to his advantage, he leapt forward and wrapped his arms around the head of the demon, dropping his feet out from under him. The full weight of the sound suit caused the demonic lurker to topple backwards.

  Mal rolled safely to the cavern floor, looking up in disbelief as Jesse grappled with the thing torn from nightmares.

  The demon squirmed as The Ripper began to liberate the flesh from its body. As it turned to look upon its assailant, the hourglass-shaped pupils shifted inside the pair of narrow, reptilian eyes. A look of pain transformed into a mask of rage as the harvester faced down its prey. Jesse responded by shoving his arm into the gaping maw of the creature, reaching deeper still until the speakers that lined his arm fully penetrated its gullet.

  Brutalize you, neutralize you, gonna go for your throat as you choke, then they’ll vaporize you…

  The harvester drone convulsed as the sound waves shook through the core of its being, causing it to reel back and forth with each note of the slashing guitars that burst through its innards. Small geysers of internal fluids erupted from its orifices as the song raged forth.

  Terrorize you, pulverize you, gonna cut to the bone as you groan, and they’ll paratamize you…

  With his other arm, Jesse pulled the flailing drone towards his chest. Pressed against the speakers of the modified boombox, the flesh of the sonopod began to boil. The drone tried desperately to hold itself together as it was torn apart from the inside out.

  Chrome masters, steel warriors, soul stealers, ripping out hearts, they’re devil dogs—the Hell Patrol…

  As the outro chorus raged through the speakers, Halford’s earsplitting falsetto flourish gutted through the sonopod, resulting in a brief implosion that resonated through the creature’s insides in a rebound structure of sonic destruction.

  The demon foot soldier’s rough outer flesh split down the middle at the spine and fell to the ground like a freshly skinned game pelt. Jesse instinctively stepped back as its soft insides oozed across the walkway in a pile of steaming-hot sludge.

  Jesse pressed stop on the cassette player and opened the visor of the helmet. He could hear the scuffling of sonopods within the stillness of the cavern and the horrified gasps of the surviving townsfolk, now free of the controlling parasites.

  He reached out into the darkness and gently pulled Mal towards him as he whispered. “Time to go. We’re gonna be late for the show.”

  At the recognition of Jesse’s voice, Mal smiled and fell into his arms.

  “Stay put, help is on the way!” Jesse called to the darkness, hoping that the other captives could hear.

  The solitary, flashing green bar on the power console brought back the urgency at hand.

  He threw Mal’s arm over his shoulder and pulled down the visor on the helmet. Together they waded through the wake of carnage left by The Ripper, slipping and sliding on the demonic viscera that lined the floor of the cavern as they proceeded towards the antechamber.

  A deep bellow emanated through the cavern, causing the ground to quake under Amduscias’s wrath. A large stalactite fell from the domed ceiling as the chamber began to cave in on itself. The remaining legions answered the summoning call and rallied around their leader, who remained ensconced in the rippling vortex of the nexus.

  Jesse managed to avoid large sections of the crumbling cavern as he navigated Mal through the antechamber. A flood of angry, dark tendrils chased after them as they approached the bosun’s chair.

  “Get ready to pull us up!” Jesse shouted into the mic.

  The snorts of hell hounds mixed with the deep, resonant blasts of the Rift Lord grew closer.

  “We might have some company.”

  As Jesse helped Mal into the bosun’s chair he noted the minuscule sliver of green left on the last power bar. As soon as he laid her down on the plank seat, she drifted off. He cinched her tightly into the harness and pulled hard on the winch cable.

  With no response from the two-way radio, Jesse pulled off the helmet and called up to the others. “Pull us up, now!”

  As Jesse’s words echoed up from the bottom of the deep, vertical shaft, he hoped some remnant of his call would find its way to the surface.

  Jesse heard the arrival of the pack before he could see them in the dim luminescence of The Ripper’s led lights. He took one last look at Mal before donning his helmet.

  “We almost made it,” he said as he brushed the hair from her eyes.

  Jesse Lynn, former bass player and founding member of Hell Patrol, strapped on the helmet and marched towards the amassing horde as he hit the play button on The Ripper’s cassette deck once more.

  4

  A squeal of feedback resounded from the two-way radio as Agostino pressed down on the talk button.

  “What’s going on?” asked Rick.

  Agostino shook his head. “Probably just interference from the nexus. As long as the suit has enough power, Jesse should be fine.”

  Rick wheeled over to Agostino and grabbed him by the wrist. “The fuck—should be fine?”

  “As long as he follows my instructions, there is a factored probability—albeit a small one—that he will return unharmed.”

  Rick furrowed his brow and met Agostino’s eyes. “If anything happens to my brother down there on this wild goose chase you’ve sent him on, I’ll roll these twenty-six-inch wheels up inside your asshole.”

  Agostino visibly gulped and nodded.

  Rust and Alex jogged up to the winch house.

  “We’re all set up. What’s the word?” asked Rust.

  The winch arm began to pivot and creak as weight was applied to the bosun’s chair from below. Agostino ran to the winch mechanism where Mazes was already turning the hand crank. Together the two began to pull up the chair from the bottom of the mineshaft.

  Rick wheeled up to the winch platform and called out below. “Jesse, you okay? Talk to me little bro.”

  The groaning of the rusty winch cable and the din of the amassing audience near the stage were his only answer.

  Alex gasped as the bosun’s chair emerged from the darkness of the deep, vertical shaft. Mazes and Agostino hoisted the limp, sludge-covered body from the chair and laid it on the ground near the opening of the shaft.

  “Mal!” Alex shrieked.

  A plume of dust and stale air erupted up through the vertical shaft as they pulled Mal to safety. Her eyes fluttered open as she struggled to speak.

  “Jesse…”

  “Save your strength—try not to speak,” said Mazes. The tall youth knelt down to Mal and picked her up gently, cradling her in his arms. “Jesse’s fortitude is very high. He will survive this trial,” Mazes said as he carried Mal out towards the entrance.

  “What the hell was that?” asked Rick, wiping the dust from his glasses.

  “Something must have caused the remaining portion of the natural cave complex to cave in on itself,” Agostino replied.

  Rick turned to Agostino. “He’s still down there.”

  “We don’t have time to send the chair down again. Jesse will have to fend for himself until we close the nexus between worlds.”

  “I can’t just fucking leave my brother down there with a bunch of fucking demons,” said Rick.

  “If Hell Patrol does not start the override sequence soon, we will not be able to destroy the connection between our world and theirs.” He laid a hand on Rick’s shoulder. “They will devour the town and everyone in it.”

  Rick looked down in silence.

  “Who’s gonna fill in for Jesse on bass?” asked Alex.

  All eyes fell upon Agostino.

&n
bsp; “Do you know any covers?” asked Rust.

  “I would suggest ‘Black Sabbath,’ by Black Sabbath, from the album, Black Sabbath. This song features an exemplary execution of the tritone. The modified backline will do most of the work in broadcasting the resonant frequency override.”

  “Wait a minute,” Alex squeaked. “Do you even know how to play it?”

  Agostino took off his tweed blazer and neatly folded it up before handing it to Alex as he headed towards the stage.

  Rust punched Alex on the shoulder. “Relax man. That dude has a degree in Black Sabbath.”