A window smashed at the opposite end of the pub.
“Damn it,” Keith shouted. “Split into two groups, one at each window. Move, move, move.”
Rick headed towards the other window, taking Sarah and Steven with him. To his dismay, they both looked at him like he was the one in charge.
The window shook in its frame, the curtains flapping as the air moved. “You both ready?” Rick asked.
Sarah nodded. Steven pulled off his blazer and threw it on the floor, rolled up his shirt sleeves, then gave a thumbs up.
“If they’re anything like the one that attacked me, these things like going for the neck. As soon as they lunge, let them have it.”
Large shards of glass fell loose and shattered on the ground. Rick tightened his grip on his poker, knuckles creaking. Sarah held her beer bottle near her waist, ready to stab.
Then the siege halted.
Both windows stopped cracking as the enemy outside stopped attacking. Rick looked at his brother at the other side of the pub, who replied with a confused frown.
There was noise. Rumbling.
Rick cocked his head. “Is that…? Is that the ambulance?”
“It sounds like somebody is driving it,” said Steven.
Sarah shifted on the spot. “Those things can drive?”
“It looks that way,” said Steven. “Why, though? If they want to get at us in here, why drive away?”
Rick had a thought. “Unless…”
Sarah looked at him. “Unless what?”
Rick heard the noise of the accelerating engine just in time to shout a warning. “They’re going to ram us.”
An earthquake shook the building and the barricade in front of the pub’s door disintegrated as the nose of a speeding ambulance crashed through it. The heavy wooden door flew off its hinges and crashed against the bar.
“They’re dividing us,” Rick shouted. “They’ve split us in two.”
The ambulance’s rear doors sprung open and dead men spilled out. From the driver’s seat, a corpse with long black hair slid out. It looked at the poker in Rick’s hand and laughed. “I’ll gut you with that thing before you ever get chance to swing it.”
Rick defied his enemy and swung at a dead woman with mottled grey breasts. His head was fuzzy with alcohol, but he was glad to have the edge taken off now. Sober, he might have retched at the sight of her caved in skull.
Steven joined the fight and took out two dead men in quick succession. Sarah was less aggressive, and backed away until a dead woman was right on top of her. Desperation made her strike out, but she managed to slice her attacker’s throat open.
From the other side of the pub, obscured by the crashed ambulance, the other guests fought for their lives. Rick worried about his brother and gritted his teeth as he connected a blow with a brunette’s rotting skull. He fought his way to the ambulance, but dead men continued to spill out into the pub and blocked his way.
The fight had just got started.
Steven held his own. With Sarah huddled behind him and striking out at anything that got too near, they made a good team. Rick took out another attacker, gained several more feet towards the ambulance, but the black haired dead man stood in his path.
“A valiant effort, worm.” He struck Rick in the chest with the force of a kicking horse and sent him flying into the air.
Rick hit the ground in a crumpled mess, and it was only dumb luck that allowed him to keep a hold of his poker. He thrust it out in front of him as protection while he fought to get his breath.
“You are pathetic, worm.”
Rick waved the poker, but was powerless on his back. “W-what are you?”
“A man.”
Rick shuffled backwards. “You’re not a man, you’re a monster.”
“Men are monsters.”
Rick cowered, tried to get up, but ended up shuffling along on his backside some more. The dead man cackled with delight.
“Please,” Rick begged.
“Your begging will not save you. You are—”
The dead man stumbled forwards in surprise, falling right onto the pointed tip of the poker that Rick still held out in front of him. His bloated stomach slid right down the length of the iron rod and left a slick trail on it. The poker went straight through him, poking out of his back. Rick shoved with all his might and sent the wounded monster to the floor.
Sarah appeared and helped Rick to his feet. Steven stood nearby with his tie flapped over his shoulder, and all around him lay the corpses of dead men. He was panting heavily, keyed-up and ready for more.
“We have to get out of here,” said Sarah.
“Not until we help my brother.”
Rick could see Keith swinging his poker desperately, as two creatures had him pinned against a strobing fruit machine. They grabbed him by the arms and wrestled with him.
Rick slid over the ambulance’s bonnet and raced to help. He no longer had his fire poker—it was embedded inside the black haired dead man’s torso—so he did the only thing he could think of and converted his speed into an attack. He aimed his foot at the nearest enemy and put so much force into the kick that the dead man flew into its partner, and the two of them smashed down on top of a table. Keith was quick to capitalise and rammed his poker down into them like a pike, impaling the dead men together like meat on a shish kebab. “Never piss off an accountant,” he shouted at them.
Rick grabbed his brother’s arm. “We need to leave. This place isn’t safe anymore.”
Keith looked at the broken windows and the obliterated doorway and nodded. “We need to get back to your house.”
“What? No, we need to get help.”
“You heard what Maddy said. There is no help. Your house is big and old, with big gates and alarms.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Diane, coming up behind them and covered in dark red blood that didn’t belong to her. The baseball bat in her hands was snapped and caked in gore.
“Me too,” said Maddy between pants.
Rick looked around and saw that they had won a pyrrhic victory. A dozen of their attackers lay dead or injured, but many of the pub’s drinkers were dead also. Steven and Sarah were still on the opposite side of the ambulance, but they seemed to be okay. They were staring over the bonnet; expressions weary, yet exuberant.
“We made it,” said Steven, sounding like he could barely believe it. “I’ve never been in a fight in my life before today.”
“Well, you kicked ass,” said Rick. “You were like a Viking.”
Sarah patted Steven on the back. “I wouldn’t have had a chance without you. You were amaz—”
Her eyes went wide. Steven turned to glance at Sarah and his eyes went wide too. He stepped away, startled.
Rick reached out across the bonnet, not understanding what was happening. “Sarah?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but blood passed between her lips. Gnarled black fingernails appeared around her throat, and then her face disappeared, replaced by the back of her head. The sound of her neck snapping echoed off the ceiling like a gunshot.
Her dead body slumped to the floor.
The black haired dead man appeared where she had been standing, iron poker still sticking out of his torso. The grey flesh around the wound was scorched. “You think you can fight back, maggots? You will all die.” He grabbed the poker in his belly and dragged it out with a slithery plop! then threw it down on the ground next to Sarah’s head.
Steven took a swing, but was too slow. The dead man ducked the blow and struck Steven hard enough to launch him up and over the bonnet of the ambulance. Rick and the others ran to his aid, dragging him back to his feet and hustling him towards the exit.
The black haired corpse laughed at their retreat.
Outside, it was fully dark and completely silent. Steven was groggy and struggled to walk straight, so Keith and Rick grabbed an arm each and marched him across the car park as fast as they could. As they did so, Rick kept picturing Sarah’
s face. There one minute; snapped around and facing the wrong way the next.
Dead men walked the Earth, killing the living.
The apocalypse had arrived.
As Rick dared to glance backwards one last time, he saw the black haired corpse strolling after them casually, apparently, in no hurry.
~Mina Magar~
Mayfair, England
It was like walking through a movie set for the grizzliest film ever made. The dead littered the roads like rubbish, their blood the ancient city’s latest graffiti. Tens of thousands dead. Mina made the assumption simply by extrapolating from what she saw on every street. Now and then, amongst the dead men, women, and children, she or David would spot a body that wasn’t human. One laid in front of her now—a charred creature with clumps of flesh between its crooked teeth. Somebody had fought back and run it through with a skiing pole. The price tag still hung from the rubber grip.
“Every inch of its skin is burned away,” Mina muttered, more to herself than David. “It’s like these things walked right out of a fire.”
David was busy making notes and using his phone to take pictures, but he heard what she said and replied. “Well, they say Hell is hot, if that’s still what you’re implying.”
“I think these monsters used to be men and women once. What do you think that means?”
“Maybe they’ve been burning in Hell for all eternity.”
Mina thought about it and found it grim to even consider. Was there really a Hell? Did people truly go there to burn for eternity? She’d never been a believer until now.
“The stones,” David said flatly as he pointed his camera phone at a prominent blond, shaggy-haired politician he’d found tangled in the wreckage of a shiny bicycle. “Wherever they’re from, the stones are the key.”
Mina agreed. The stones had opened some kind of gate, but who had put them there? The monster she had killed outside the pharmacy mentioned ‘The Red Lord’. Was that the Devil? Or something worse? Was the giant creature she had glimpsed the Red Lord?
“I wish you hadn’t ruined your camera,” said David. “We’re alone out here and have the exclusive.”
Mina groaned. “It was my camera or my life, and we don’t have the exclusive. It’s happening to everybody, so there’s no need for anybody to report it.”
“Nonsense. People will be too terrified to understand what is going on. We have a chance here to gain evidence and try to help piece things together. You already have your theory about Hell coming to Earth—as silly as I may deem it—and we can see if it holds water.”
Mina took a moment to think about it. They were alone in the aftermath of a catastrophe, and perhaps there were ways to help, but, as she viewed the utter devastation of London, she felt powerless. She prodded the dead creature with her foot and grimaced when the toe of her boot came back sticky. The demons had attacked en masse and with complete surprise, but they could be hurt—and killed. They were ferocious and relentless, but as fragile as any human being. Maybe the Army and their guns could turn things around.
Mina’s phone rang and made both of them leap. David had spoken with their Slough office multiple times since they’d left the pharmacy, but Mina had completely forgotten about her own phone.
She answered the phone and heard her father’s barking voice on the other end. “Mina? Are you all right?”
“Yes, dad, I’m fine. I’m in London.”
“London? Bloody damn it, Mina, why are you always in trouble? You could be at home safe with children, but instead, you are out in the middle of everything.”
“I’m a journalist, dad.”
“You are not a journalist, Mina. You take your hobby too seriously. I could have lost you today because of your irresponsible behaviour. You need to come home right now. Get away from that city. There is fighting.”
“Yes, dad, I know. I saw it first-hand.”
“Bloody damn it. You are where it happened? How did you stay safe?”
“I hid.”
“Good girl. Now, I am wanting you home.”
“It’s not that easy, dad. Things are bad here.”
“That is why you must leave.”
“I have a job to do.”
“No, you do not.”
Mina sighed and gripped the phone tightly in her fist. “Yes, I do, dad. I’m standing in the middle of a thousand bodies, and it’s my job to do something to help. I’m not interested in being at home, raising children, and cooking dinner. I’m a journalist, so let me journalist…lise.”
“Mina, you do as I am saying.”
“I’m twenty-five years old. I’ll do what I say.” She put down the phone and switched it off, hands shaking.
“You okay?” David asked her.
She swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
David looked at her, the first time he hadn’t frowned or given her an order. “You were good on the phone. Didn’t take any nonsense. Attitude like that will take you places.”
Mina smiled. “Perhaps. More likely, my dad will make my life a living hell.”
“Hell is already here, so what have you got to lose?”
“Good point.”
Movement ahead. A man stepped out of an alleyway and headed towards them.
“Oh no,” said Mina.
David glanced at her. “What is it?”
Mina watched the racist thug heading towards them and felt her bladder loosen. “This guy is bad news.”
“Do you know him?”
“More than I would like?”
“Give me that phone, luv,” the man demanded once he was close.
“You forgot to say please,” said David, folding his arms.
There was blood down the racist’s white t-shirt, and when he looked at David, there was murder in his eyes. “What did you fucking say to me, mate?”
David shifted a little, but there was too much pride in him to back down. “Manners cost nothing, my friend. You want to borrow my colleague’s phone, then I suggest you ask nicely.”
“David, it’s fine. He can have my phone.”
The racist grinned spitefully. “There you go mate, your little slag doesn’t mind giving it up.”
David strode forward, wagging his finger. “Now look here you-”
The thug punched him around the side of the head so hard Mina thought his skull might have cracked. Unconscious, he flopped face first to the pavement with not even his arms to break his fall.
Mina yelped in shock.
The bald menace sneered at her. “You’re that Paki from earlier, ain’t ya?”
“I’m not a… I am English.”
“The fuck you are.”
“I was born in Wigan.”
“More like a fucking call centre in Mumbai.”
“Mumbai is in India, so how could I be a Paki?”
“You fucking cheeking me, slag?”
Mina swallowed, tried to find whatever it was she needed to stand up to this beast. “People are dead. You shouldn’t be attacking people. We all need to help one another.”
“Which is why I want your phone. Give it.”
Mina reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She was about to hand it over when she caught sight of David, face down on the floor. Rather than scaring her, it made her angry. She placed the phone back in her pocket and shook her head. “It’s my phone and I’m not giving it to you. You try to touch me and I’ll scream. The monsters might come.”
“Oh, you’re going to give it to me, sweetheart, and you can scream all you like.” He lunged forward and grabbed her, threw all of his weight on top of her so that she fell backwards and struck the pavement. The wind escaped her lungs and the man grabbed her arms. He bent over her and started to lick and bite her neck like a panting dog.
“Stop it! David, help!”
David remained unconscious just three feet away.
“Never had a Paki before.” Her attacker nibbled at her earlobe. His fumbling hands went to the buttons on her jea
ns and popped the first one. “Gunna fuck the shite out of you, Paki.”
Terror got the best of Mina and she screamed.
The beast cut her off by smashing his fist into her mouth. “Shut it!”
He was just about to punch her again when a small red hole appeared in his windpipe, followed almost instantly by a piercing snap! He looked down at her with an expression of utter confusion. The little red dot on his windpipe leaked blood and air, making a gargling sound. He slumped sideways and collapsed to the pavement.
Mina clambered to her feet as quickly as she could, moaning in a mixture of fear and relief. She turned around and saw a group of men in jeans and sportswear—not much more than kids. One of them, a black lad in a luminous green beanie hat, held a smoking pistol in his hand turned sideways. “Racist motherfucker,” he muttered as he lowered the gun to his side.
Mina took a breath and said, “Y-you… you shot him. How…? Where did you get a gun?”
The lad gave her an odd look that made her feel stupid. “Ask me no questions, I tell me no lies. You all right, darlin’?”
“I… Yes. Thank you. You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”
The lad glanced back at his friends, who seemed to bristle at her comment. Then he looked again at Mina but didn’t seem happy. “I just saved your arse, luv, and you accuse me of bein’ a mugger and shit. I ain’t gunna hurt you. We ain’t even like that.”
“Oh,” said Mina. “It’s just that you all look so… scary.”
The lad looked down at his baggy jeans and black hoodie, then surprised her by chuckling. “Just how we do on the streets, innit? You dress how you want, and we dress how we wants. Just clothes, innit?”
“Thank you,” said Mina, truly meaning it this time. Her attacker lay dead at her feet, but she didn’t care one bit. There were lots of people dead today, and the racist bully was among the most deserving.
“What’s your name?” Mina asked her rescuer.
“Vamps.”
“Vamps?”
The lad gave her a wide grin, revealing his gold plated fangs. “Yeah, Vamps. These are my homies: Mass, Ravy, and Gingerbread.”
The other three men nodded silently. The one she assumed was gingerbread—due to the gingerbread man on his t-shirt—was a huge white guy with curly ginger hair.
Hell On Earth Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 10
