But Vamps was still alive, and so were his friends.
Vamps’s focus had still been on Ginge, which led to him being blindsided by a burnt man, but Mass was there to grab the monster in a rear naked choke and pull it away. Vamps stamped on one of its knees to make the struggle a little less strenuous. Mass broke another neck and threw the demon to the ground, but he was tired and panting.
Vamps was tired too.
A hundred demons surrounded them—a giant net closing in. The enemy had stopped rushing in so carelessly though, now approaching slowly and methodically. Vamps smirked that a legion from Hell was being cautious around him and Mass. It was something he could hold on to if this was the moment of his death. He had died as one hard-as-nails motherfucker.
They were about to rush back into the fray when something blasted down Oxford Street. Windows either side of the road that were not already broken now shattered into a million pieces. The demons stopped their attack and stared upwards. Mass and Vamps exchanged glances and realised that something was behind them. The blasting roar had come from further down the road.
“Should you go first or should I?” asked Vamps.
Mass swallowed. “I’ll go.”
“Okay.”
Slowly, Mass turned around to face the other way. Once he had, his eyes almost popped out of his head. “Fuck me.”
Vamps swallowed and turned around too. His eyes went even wider than his friend’s. “I was hoping I’d imagined that thing.”
The giant stared down at them both, a huge monster glaring at a pair of ants.
Hernandez
The shot echoed off the deck, but the sound it made as it struck Danza was muted. Nothing more than a soft thud. The look on Danza’s face was also muted—in fact, he seemed more confused than anything else.
Then the Lieutenant fell to one knee. A rosette of blood bloomed in the centre of his chest. His breaths wheezed, like air escaping from a tyre.
Hernandez clenched his jaw and made sure Danza looked at him as he spoke. Dusk cast a shadow across his face—or maybe it was the man’s light fading. “You forget yourself, Lieutenant.”
Danza opened his mouth, but instead of words, only blood spilled out. The man fell onto his belly and died like a fish. Hernandez let his weapon rest by his side, but spun to address his crew. “You all forget yourselves! When Commander Johnson fell, the Augusta became mine. I will not tolerate mutiny—not when the world itself is at stake. I seek only to aid my country. As Navy men and women, you all vowed to do the same. So I ask you, what exactly is the problem? Why heed the words of a weasel like the one who lies dead at my feet?”
Silence. Nobody dared answer the question.
Hernandez re-holstered his weapon and allowed his anger to subside. “Good, then I expect you all to follow orders from now on. Without exception.” He turned to Cuervo, who smiled nervously yet affectionately. “Lieutenant Cuervo is my second-in-command. You will all obey her as you obey me.”
“She’s just an Ensign,” someone muttered.
Hernandez scanned the crowd. “Right now, she is the only one I trust to carry out my orders. Dismissed.”
Hernandez turned on his heel to leave, but before he did, he motioned for Cuervo to follow him. She followed along without complaint, but there was something about the way she glanced at him that suggested she feared him. That was good.
As they walked in silence, it occurred to Hernandez that he didn’t know where he was heading. Then it came to him, and he knew exactly where to go.
Johnson’s cabin was his now, more spacious than any other on board. The man’s things lay everywhere, and Hernandez was quick to hide away the former commander’s family pictures in a drawer.
“Would you like me to store all of Commander Johnson’s things for you?”
Hernandez looked at Cuervo and smiled. “You are a senior officer now, Lieutenant. You don’t tidy up. Have someone else do it later. I just wanted to come here and take a look for now.”
She looked at him and smiled, then downwards like she was suddenly embarrassed.
“What is it, Cuervo? You can speak freely.”
“I thought what you did was brave. Dealing with Danza the way you did. I can’t believe he was about to stage a mutiny at a time like this.”
“You don’t mind that I killed him?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think the rules apply anymore. I didn’t enjoy it, but I think it had to happen. Only the strong will survive now.”
He took a step towards her. “Or those who align themselves with such.”
She looked at the metre of carpet between them then back up at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off with a kiss—a kiss unlike any he had ever given before. It was powerful and confident. He was powerful and confident.
He was the commander of this ship.
There was no hesitation as he ripped off Cuervo’s shirt. He wanted her, and she was his.
And for the next two hours, they made Commander Johnson’s bed their own.
The knock at the Captain’s door woke Hernandez’s body first, his mind second. He quickly filled with anger. Cuervo was naked beside him and radiated the most heavenly warmth, and the feel of her bare feet rubbing against his shin was enough to renew his erection.
The unannounced visitor at the door better have a good reason for disturbing him.
“Wait there!” Hernandez grunted and put on his uniform. Cuervo did the same, which was a shrewd move. Hernandez did not care whether his men knew he was screwing the Lieutenant, but Cuervo would already have a hard time trying to gain their respect. No reason to give the crew ammunition for their slurs.
Before Hernandez got his shoes on, the door burst open, and Outerbridge stepped through. Other men stood with him.
“What is the meaning of this?” Hernandez demanded. He marched up to the ship’s disgraced sniper and raised his fist in the man’s face.
Outerbridge head-butted him ferociously.
Cuervo yelped.
Hernandez staggered backwards. He righted himself on the bed, hands falling upon dampened sheets, and then tried to face his attacker. But tears filled his eyes and blood clogged his sinuses. He could see nothing but his own pain.
Outerbridge had struck him. The wretched slug. How dare he? How dare—
Hernandez was grabbed by both arms and yanked across the room, any argument he was about to present abruptly halted by an elbow across the jaw. They dragged him through the corridors while a dozen men and women jeered. What the hell is going on?
They took him out on deck and threw him unceremoniously to the ground. He made it back up to his knees before something froze him stiff. “D-Danza?”
Danza looked like death, sweaty and pale in the moonlight that had risen overhead since Hernandez had last been outside. The crew had placed him into a wheelchair, and the ship’s doctor stood beside him. When he spoke, he sounded winded, and in pain. “When you shoot a man, Hernandez, you should try to avoid the breast bone. It’s the best piece of armour a man has.” He moved his trembling hand over the centre of his chest and winced. “I might just get to live. Which is more than I can say for you.”
Hernandez snarled. “You have no right.”
“As you had no right to play executioner. You are not fit for command, Hernandez, or to even have a place aboard this ship. We are proud men and women of the US Navy, and your presence shames us. You are a self-serving coward. And a murderer.”
“I am no such thing. You live!”
Danza laughed even though it pained him. “Did you shoot Johnson the way you shot me?”
“Johnson was a fool who didn’t know when to run.”
“He was a brave man worthy of command. You are a coward worthy only of death.”
Hernandez wanted to keel over and vomit, but he would not give his rival the satisfaction. “Then get it over with.”
Danza nodded. He reached gingerly to his side and pulled out his service pistol. When he poin
ted it at Hernandez he frowned. “If any person on this ship objects to the execution of former officer Hernandez, please say so now. I do not intend to run this ship as an unquestioned king.”
Nobody spoke up in Hernandez’s defence.
“Cowards,” Hernandez snarled at them. “I am your commander!”
Danza lowered his pistol and placed it down across his knees. He seemed to think for a moment. “On second thought, it takes far greater virtue to release one’s enemy than to kill him. I will not stain the Augusta with any more blood, and truthfully, you do not deserve to die upon its decks. Outerbridge, I think we should put this piece of sludge in a lifeboat and let the sea take him. Maybe it will give him some time to think about his many mistakes.”
Outerbridge laughed. He reached down and grabbed Hernandez around the collar and yanked him off his knees.
“You can’t do this,” Hernandez cried. “It’s illegal! This is my ship!”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Danza. “Apologise to me, right here and now, and I’ll let you live out the rest of your days in the brig.”
“What?”
“I said apologise.”
Hernandez clenched his fists. “I apologise for nothing.” He swung a punch at Outerbridge, and the sniper fell, but another crewman took his place, and Hernandez was beaten back down to his knees.
“Very well,” said Danza. “Take him.”
Outerbridge got up and grabbed Hernandez by the collar again, this time even more roughly. Someone stamped on the former officer’s ankle, making him remember he was barefooted. It added to his humiliation in some way. Outerbridge forced his arm behind his back and manhandled him into one of the ship’s lifeboats. Before he could try to climb out, the man punched him hard in the face, assuring his nose was broken.
Hernandez sobbed, but stopped himself. He turned the outpouring into a growl. “I will kill you all.”
Outerbridge sniggered. “No, you won’t. Better you turn your mind to fishing. Maybe then you’ll make it through the week. Oh, and one other thing, take your whore with you.”
“No, please. No.”
Cuervo appeared at the edge of the boat and then was thrown head over heels to join Hernandez. Her head cracked loudly as it struck one of the bolts fastening the bench to the floor. Her cries stopped and transformed into meek sobs. Instinctively, Hernandez reached out and touched her. An entire crew, and she was the only one on his side. Now she had been pulled down with him.
Danza did not appear, probably too weak to leave his wheelchair, but his voice came over the railings clear enough. “I wish you luck, Hernandez. You always wanted to be commander of your own ship. I have given you your wish. May we never meet again.”
The winch started up, and the lifeboat lowered towards the water.
Soon the Atlantic would take him.
Rick Bastion
Rick and Daniel followed along undetected for more than an hour. Dawn now nibbled at the horizon, and the prospect of daylight changed things significantly. It was one thing creeping around behind a column of demons in the dark, but in daylight?
“We need to fall back further,” said Daniel weakly. The Fallen Angel was growing increasingly short of breath. His injuries were not healing, and he needed to rest. If they stopped, though, the demons would move on and disappear. Keith, Maddy, and Diane might be gone forever—if they were even amongst the poor huddled masses being moved along like cattle.
“We can’t fall back anymore,” said Rick. “We’ll lose sight of them.”
Even now, the demons were several hundred yards ahead. The motorway stretched on in a straight line for miles, which aided visibility, but the sheer amount of stalled traffic made it hard to pursue. The easiest thing to follow was the noise—the moans and cries of the captives a beacon for Rick and Daniel to lock onto.
Daniel slinked through a gap between a lorry and a caravan. “Once the sun is fully up, it will only take one of those demons to take a look back over his shoulder to spot us.”
“We’ll keep low, move behind cars. I have to know if Maddy and the others are with them. I can’t leave them.”
“In the case of your brother, that might be the exact thing you should do.”
“You know, for a former angel you’re not very Christian.”
“Jesus was before my time.”
Rick stopped for a second. “But he did exist?”
“There are lots of things in this universe that existed and exist. Reality stretches further than your eyes see.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that what is happening here is just a drop in the ocean. Even God is tiny in the grand scheme of things. He’s a soldier, like everyone else.”
“A soldier? Daniel, what are you talking about?”
“Never mind. It would be hard for you to understand.”
Rick blinked a few times. He was tired, and his eyes were getting fuzzy. How much longer could he keep going along the motorway? Safety lay to the south not north. Should he turn back?
Could he?
No.
“We have to keep going, Daniel. I—”
“Shh. Something’s happening up ahead.”
Rick squinted. “What?”
“Look! There’s a gate further down.”
Rick’s stomach filled with lead as he spotted the shimmering lens on the horizon. It was about a mile down the road, tiny at this range but bright enough to light up the dim grey of dawn around it.
“Is this bad?” he asked Daniel.
“It’s what I suspected.”
Rick looked at him and waited for something more.
Daniel shook his head. “It’s a prison break.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s get up in those hills ahead. We need to get a good look at things before we decide what to do.”
“So there is something we can do?”
“That’s the good thing about being human, isn’t it? There’s always something you can do. Even if it’s stupid.”
They climbed the barrier at the edge of the motorway and clambered through the ditch. They pushed through the hedges, and once in the nearby fields, stayed hidden from sight of the motorway. Rick could only just see the fringes of glimmering light through the trees, but they hurried through the long grass until they were right in line with it.
Daniel and Rick peered through the bushes.
Demons amassed outside the twenty-foot gate, and seeing one up close made Rick’s skin tighten. It was like standing next to a hungry lion—something in his body tingled at being so close to something so dangerous.
The legion of demons arrived and gathered around the gate, shoving their chained captives to the ground.
“How many of these gates are there?” Rick asked Daniel in a whispered tone.
“Six-hundred and sixty-six.”
“Six-six-six. Like the number of the beast?”
“No, like the number of seals God placed upon the earth to keep it safe. One seal for each adversary.”
Rick was struggling to understand. “What adversaries? I thought Lucifer was God’s adversary.”
Daniel chuckled quietly. “Lucifer is a naughty child. The six hundred and sixty six Adversaries are something else entirely. They are equal to God—cut from the same celestial cloth. Each of them yearns for power, and that power exists within life. The life that fills each plant, every moth, and billions of human beings on every single plane of existence. The more worlds conquered by the Adversaries, the stronger they get, and the weaker God becomes.”
“I don’t understand any of what you just said.”
“How could you, Rick? God sacrificed his power to bind his kin. God was the strongest of the Adversaries—the six hundred and sixty seventh—and all the others envied and resented him. A fight brewed, one that threatened the very fabric of existence, so God used his vast power to castrate the Adversaries, himself included. God rendered their powers inert, preventing their ability to act upon
the earths. In doing so, God left you all to fend for yourselves. That is why the prayers of men go unanswered.”
“He did it to protect us?”
“To protect everything. This was even before the time of Angels.”
“So what’s happening now? Who opened the gates?”
“The Black Ram.”
Rick laughed. “Are you winding me up? This sounds like a bad novel.”
Daniel shrugged. “I suppose it does. The Black Ram is a man—just a man—but he has existed almost since the beginning of time. He has learned to move between the worlds and has assembled a secret society known as the Black Strand. It is they who have put into motion the destruction, not only of this planet, but of many. Each world that falls weakens God, for his power is derived from us. Inside the heart of every man and animal is His essence. When you kill a man, you kill part of God. To kill billions would weaken Him substantially. He is at war; without an army.”
“What about the angels?”
“Ineffectual. The seals prevent them from acting upon the earth also.”
“But the seals on this world are broken. The Fallen Angels are here, so why not the good angels?”
Using the word ‘good’ to describe the other angels but not Daniel appeared to hurt him. He closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t know why Heaven’s angels are not here. I can only imagine it’s because they have their hands full. This is not God’s only battle.”
Rick was going to ask more questions, but the sound of screaming cut him off. He peered through the bushes and saw that the demons were grabbing people off the ground and shoving them towards the gate. A woman screeched like a bomb siren as a demon slit open her wrists.
“They’re using them as vessels,” said Daniel. “The very worst souls in Hell are relieved of physical form and doomed to burn in the darkest, most painful pits of the Abyss. Matter cannot exist in the Abyss—only pain and torment. These wicked souls could not pass through the gates like the others, for they lacked the freedom to move.”
Hell On Earth Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 53
