Guy stared. “You killed an angel?”
“Yeah. Took some doing, but yeah. My bro here has a magic sword.”
“That is not a euphemism,” said the man dressed for the desert.
“They’re dead. They're dead.” Keith kept saying the words over and over. After a while he turned and wandered off like he’d suddenly lost sight of the fact their lives were in danger.
Guy heard a scream and turned around just in time to see the body of a soldier flying towards him. It landed on top of him like a sack of potatoes. Corporal Martin rolled the corpse away and pulled a dazed Guy back to his feet. “Come on!”
“I got this,” said the lad with the sword, rushing off towards the massive angel like a fearless barbarian.
The big lad went after him, shouting all the way. “Vamps, man. Wait up, I got your back.”
“You should leave,” said the desert man to Guy. “Your people are hurt.”
Guy looked at the fallen soldiers, and the Hatchet's marines who had served with him since this whole thing began. “My people are dead. I gave up on my daughter to be here...”
Corporal Martin picked up a rifle from one of Guy’s dead soldiers. “We have civilians in our van back there. Wait for us there. Keep them safe if things go bad.”
Guy shook his head. “No. There’s still something I can do here.”
The middle-aged man, who had said nothing since arriving, stepped aside and let Guy past. From the look on the man's face, it was clear the fellow had been through some shit. Despite that, he nodded to Guy. Guy nodded back.
The gate shimmered and spat more demons to the earth, but they came less frequently now. How many were back there, queued up in Hell’s hallways ready to leap through and destroy whatever stood in their path? Was there a finite number, or were the legions of Hell endless? Where did the demons go when you killed them? Did they go back and join the queue, an endless recycling of the damned?
Guy stared at the gate and made up his mind. He would never see Alice again, but if she still lived, maybe he could give her a chance by doing something. The demons might be endless, but if the angels were not, then maybe taking one out would make a difference. Wickstaff might still be counting on him. So he would leap through the gate and accept whatever came after. Strangely, his legs weren’t shaking as he took his first steps towards it, and the closer he got to the gate, the surer he became about what he needed to do. No more fighting to survive, just one last meaningful act. He had become a Coast Guard to protect people.
Vamps and his friends danced around the angel, firing from rifles they found amongst the corpses. The angel was uninjured, but at least occupied.
“Granger! You traitorous pig.”
The voice sounded familiar, and it caused Guy to turn around with a frown on his face. The man he saw rushing towards him was oddly recognisable but not immediately placeable. The oddest thing of all was that he came from amongst the demons, moving between them without them paying him the slightest attention.
Guy frowned, realisation setting in. “Lieutenant Hernandez? W-What are you—”
“That’s Commander, to you, Granger.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to right a wrong. I find you guilty of abandoning your country in its darkest hour and impeding a senior officer of the US Navy. The punishment for treason is death.”
Guy did not understand. He had met this man in the middle of the Atlantic, on a ship, amongst a crew. What was he doing here in England, alone, and with a crazed look in his eyes? What answer would make any sense?
Hernandez lifted a revolver from his side and pulled the trigger.
Guy spun a full circle before his legs finally deserted him. He slumped onto his back in slow motion and was unable to get up again. Every time he tried to rise, he lost track of which way the sky was. Hernandez stood over him and raised the revolver again. The black eye of its muzzle resembled the eyes of the demon. “Any last words, Granger?”
Guy looked up at this strange, angry man he had met only once, and tried to understand what was happening, but all he could say was, “Sorry.”
The word seemed to take Hernandez by surprise because the gun in his hand trembled for a moment. “An apology? What are you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t do more for the people I care about. I’m sorry that, even now, with everything that’s happened, there’s still someone who hates me enough to kill me. I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye to Alice.”
“Who’s Alice?”
“Alice is his daughter, now step away from him, sir.”
Guy turned his head and saw the middle-aged man who had nodded to him earlier. “H-how do you…?”
“I suspected you might be Alice’s father when I heard your accent. She’s alive. In our van and very much alive.”
Despite the numbness in his body, Guy gathered a smile to his lips. He stared at the horizon, at the large white van sitting there idly, and asked himself if it was really true. Was his little girl truly inside?
“Alice? Alice?”
The police officer nodded, tears in his eyes. “I promise you she's okay. My name is Richard, and I was at the Slough Echo when you called.”
Guy smiled, his whole body relaxing as the fear for his daughter finally left him.
“Too bad you won’t live to see her,” said Hernandez, pointing the revolver at Guy’s face. He pulled the trigger.
“No!” Richard leapt in front of Guy’s body and reached out to Hernandez.
The gunshot echoed.
Guy felt no impact, but then his whole body was already numb. He saw Richard’s body buck, like he'd been punched in the gut. Both he and Hernandez fell down in a heap as they struggled with one another, but Hernandez was the only one to scurry back to his feet again. Richard stayed down on the ground.
“Time to die,” said Hernandez, his lip bleeding.
“For you maybe!” Corporal Martin fired a burst from his rifle and opened Hernandez’s chest. There was no question that he was dead by the time he hit the ground beside Richard.
“Are you okay?” Corporal Martin asked Guy, but looked like he already knew the answer.
Guy's head dropped, too heavy to lift any longer. His strength faded rapidly, and he felt sleepy. “I... need... Alice...”
His eyes closed, and it was too hard to open them again.
Vamps
Vamps hadn’t felt afraid for a while. That emotion had calloused over when his first friends died—Ginger and Ravi—and had all but evaporated after Max and Marcy. Losing so many people had broken something in him. He was no longer afraid to die, because it felt like he deserved it. Every minute he stayed alive was borrowed time. The more demons he killed before he met his maker, the cleaner his soul would be. That's why he was so determined to take out as many as he could.
He had meant it when he'd said he would go through the gate, and give his life to close it, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He had killed an angel before, so maybe he could kill this one too. It was taller than any he had seen, and so far, Mass and Aymun’s attempts to hurt it with gunfire had failed. Maybe his sword would be enough. It certainly worked on the demons.
Killing them was almost getting too easy.
Mass backed off from the fight, panting. “This shit is wearing me out, man.”
“You’re too big, man. Fewer reps and more running, yo. Look at Aymun.”
Aymun was running circles around the angel, dodging all attempts to stamp him out. His dress flapped and whirled around him almost majestically.
“Take care of any demons, Mass. I’m going after the big guy.”
“Be careful.”
“You know me.”
Mass frowned. “Better than anyone.”
Vamps rushed the angel, taking advantage of the fact Aymun was still distracting it. There was no way to reach its neck, thirty-feet up, so he aimed for more accessible meat. He loosed a running swing, arcing his sword like a gol
f club, and struck the angel's left ankle. It rebounded so hard it flew right out of Vamps’ hand. “Damn it!”
The angel roared, then spun around to face Vamps.
The sword had done nothing. Not even a scratch.
Vamps’ leapt aside as a giant foot tried to stomp him to dust. He landed badly on his heel and ended up crawling to safety. Mass came to his aid and dragged him away. “It’s no use. We can’t hurt it.”
Vamps nodded, and then saw someone stagger towards him. At first, he thought it was a demon, but then he saw it was the man who had been injured when they arrived. He had a sharp bone sticking out of his chest, but looked like he had already died weeks ago and had been rotting ever since.
“Hey, man, I thought you were a goner.”
“You should maybe remove that,” said Mass, pointing to the bone sticking out of his chest.
“My name is Rick, and I need you to get me in front of that gate. I think I can close it.”
Vamps looked back at the angel. It was coming towards them. He didn’t understand what the guy was planning to do, but nobody else was coming up with any ideas. So he grabbed Rick and dragged him towards the gate. They moved in a small group, Rick a dead weight between them. Aymun saw they were in danger, and tried to distract the angel again, but it was no use. They would have to move fast.
“Get to the gate,” said Mass, letting go of Rick and stepping away.
Vamps groaned with the extra weight. “Mass! What are you doing, bro?”
Mass stood his ground in front of the angel, buying them some time. For a moment, Vamps didn’t know what to do. His best friend was throwing himself in the way of a stampeding angel, but if he didn’t get Rick to the gate now, the guy might not make it. “Fuck it,” he said. “Come on, Rick. Pick up the pace.”
Rick moaned in agony, but he did move faster. They were almost at the gate.
But someone else had made it there first.
Rick gasped and almost fell to his knees. Vamps had to fight to keep him standing. “Keith, what are you doing?”
The man in front of the gate didn't look at Rick. He looked at Vamps. “They’re really gone? Both of them?”
Vamps realised he was talking about Max and Marcy. “I’m sorry. Max was a great kid, but I couldn’t save him... or his mum. I-I’m so sorry.”
Max's father had tears streaming down his cheeks, but he gave a little smile. “It’s okay. I’m glad someone was looking out for them at the end. It should have been me, and that's not your fault. Thank you.”
“Yeah, bro, no problem. We can talk about it later…”
Rick pushed away from Vamps, standing under his own strength. “Keith, get away from that gate.”
He shook his head and took a step backwards even closer to the gate. It pulsed and shimmered two feet away from him. “I love you, brother. I was always jealous of you, but I’m proud now, and I hope that counts. See you in the next life.”
With that, and before anyone could stop him, Keith stepped back casually into the gate.
“Get down!” Rick shouted.
Vamps threw himself away from the gate. Mass was on the ground too, about to get crushed by the angel that had him pinned. Vamps reached out towards him and yelled, but there was nothing he could do. “Mass!”
Rick dove on top of Vamps and then threw his arms up towards the angel about to kill Mass. A thick, twisting streak of light shot forth from his fingertips and struck the angel fully in the chest. The impact launched him high into the air.
Then the gate exploded and filled the air with deafening screams from another world.
Vamps
Vamps spat dirt and tried to see past the dust in his eyes. The ground shook beneath his fingertips, but the energy was fading. All was silent, except the sound of rushing wind returning to fill the void left by the exploding gate. When he dared to take a glance, he saw only a sunken divot in the earth, twenty-metres wide. His feet lay only centimetres from the crater’s edge. If he had been standing inside the blast radius, he felt sure he would be in pieces right now.
Rick sat in the grass nearby. He had his head in his hands and was muttering to himself. “Keith! Keith, you idiot. I could have closed it. You didn't have to do that.”
Vamps crawled on his belly over to Rick and noticed the change right away: the sharp bone no longer jutted from his chest and he looked healthy. “Rick! You’re better.”
Rick examined himself and saw that his skin was no longer pallid or bleeding. He nodded slightly as if the change was of little interest to him. “I got caught in the blast,” he said. “I absorbed some of its energy. God’s life force powers the gates. They were formed from the seals He placed between realities to protect us. It must have healed me.”
Vamps was too confused to respond—not just confused by the man’s words, but by the fact his brain had been shaken around in his skull like a marble.
They had done it.
Actually, Keith and Rick had done it. Had that dude really been Max’s father? Vamps’ failure to protect his family had led to him killing himself. More blood on Vamp’s soul. “Keith killed himself because I let his family die.”
“He was my brother, but no, he didn’t blame you. He blamed himself. Trust me, he failed his family long before they ever met you. What he did was an attempt to make it up to them, to be the good man in the end.”
“He succeeded,” said Vamps.
Rick nodded. “Yes, he did.”
“YOU MAGGOTS! I AM ANDRAS, MARQUIS OF HELL, THE DISCORDANT. BOW DOWN NOW, AND I WILL END YOUR WORTHLESS LIVES QUICKLY.”
The angel stomped towards them, having recovered from the blast Rick had hit him with. Vamps stood up and clenched his fists. “Eat shit motherfucker. Your gate is dust.”
Rick clambered to his feet beside him and shouted up at the great beast too. It was absurd, like two ants heckling a brown bear. “You will not win this war. There are others in Hell who oppose you. I see your fear. This close, I can see how unsure you are. You thought wiping out humanity would be easy, but you have discovered strength and defiance where you thought none existed.”
The angel strode forward, crushing human corpses beneath his feet. The demons’ bodies had all vanished. “I SHALL ENSNARE YOUR SOUL IN THE GREATEST OF HELLS. I SHALL PRESENT YOU TO THE RED LORD AS AN OFFERING. YOU HOLD THE POWER OF DANIEL, AND FOR THIS, THE FALLEN BROTHER WILL BE PUNISHED.”
Vamps shook his head. More talk of Daniel? Who the Hell is that guy?
Rick threw up his hands, but this time nothing came out of his fingertips.
Andras cackled. “DANIEL’S POWERS MAY ONLY COME TO THE SURFACE AS YOUR HUMAN VESSEL BREAKS DOWN. YOU ARE FULLY HEALED, AND SO YOUR POWERS ARE NULL. YOUR FLESH BETRAYS YOU, HUMAN.”
Rick glanced at Vamps. “You might want to run now.”
Andras stomped towards them, massive hands clenched.
Vamps tried to flee, but he was battered and bruised. His skeleton felt like mushy peas. “I can’t run anymore, man. I’m done.”
“Then it was nice knowing you. Wish I could have asked you about that flaming sword of yours.”
“Let me know if you see it. Could use it right about now.”
“I have it right here, bro!” Mass rushed up on the angel’s left flank. He held Vamps’ sword, but it wasn't aflame. Even so, he lifted the weapon over his head and hurled it forwards with all of his massive strength. It sliced the air like a javelin and pierced Andras, the Marquis of Hell, right in his perfectly chiselled chest.
Then the sword ignited.
Flames erupted from the silvery shaft and covered every patch of skin on Andras’s body. Within seconds, he became a massive, thirty-foot fireball. As he flapped about, screaming like a thousand babies, his angelic body began to disintegrate like a burning paperback. Scraps of black flesh turned to ash and flew away in the wind. Piece by piece, Andras disappeared.
It was over.
The flaming sword fell to earth, once again standing upright with its pommel
in the air.
Vamps really loved that sword.
“The rest is down to you, Wickstaff,” said Rick, a grim smile on his face.
General Wickstaff
Wickstaff was walking, but she sported a limp. Each step drove a spike of agony into her hip, but she strode with determination alongside Maddy. She asked a question. “I wouldn’t be mistaken in thinking the entire earth just shook, would I?”
Maddy shook her head. “That was one heck of an earthquake. You think Rick came through for us?”
“I say we find out. Still have your radio?” Maddy handed it over right away, and Wickstaff put through the call. “I want all birds up in the air. Target is Prime 1. Keep me posted.”
“Roger that,” came a haughty voice at the other end.
Now all there was to do was wait. Wickstaff watched the darkening sky, certain she had seen a bright flash moments before the last embers of daylight had disappeared. The rain was stopping, too, and she hoped it was a good omen. Inside, she felt something she thought she’d lost—hope.
Maddy had her arms folded, chewing her lip. Wickstaff reached out to her. “I’m sure Rick is fine.”
Diane came over to join them. “The ships are filling up slowly, and our defences are falling. It’s not good.”
Wickstaff had known there would be victims of retreat. Someone had to hold the line while others fled. Was it time to order a full retreat and let people take their chances, or did she tell those remaining men to keep holding until the death? She got on the radio again. “Rear Guard, I need you to hold for five more minutes. Just give me that long.”
There was no reply. Anyone left was too busy fighting to talk. Gunfire continued to echo, but it was quickly diminishing as the enemy broke through.
The radio screeched to life in her hand. “Air Squadron One, about to engage.”
“Roger that.”
The three women stood in a huddle, war going on all around them, and waited. First, they heard the whooshing noise—the sound of rockets leaving canisters. Then they heard the insane chatter of cyclical machine guns. Eight attack choppers were unleashing Hell.
Hell On Earth Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 79
