“The demons have generals?” Ted had assumed they were more swarming wasps than organised invasion force. It was their sheer, mindless ferocity that had given them such swift victory.
Hannah nodded, her eyes haunted by the things she was sharing. “We never found out fully, but the demons have some sort of hierarchy. You saw the videos of the giants, right?”
Ted nodded. The massive beings stomping around London on the news had been one of the last things he’d witnessed before the broadcasts ceased. It hadn’t seemed real then, and hearing about it now didn’t completely register either. Giants? Bollocks, surely?
Hannah continued. “The giants are at the top of the demon food chain, but there are other leaders too. The one that turned up that day to finish us wasn’t a giant compared to the ones in London, but it was eight feet tall at least, and more skeleton than it was man. If I ever doubted the dees came straight from Hell, this creature confirmed it for me. Watching it approach put a fear in me I thought would stop my heart.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and sniffed. “I ran. Made it out through a back door and hopped a fence. There were dees everywhere, but somehow, they didn’t spot me, too focused on their leader coming down the hill. They aren’t just monsters, you know? They had respect for this thing. It was like they were standing at attention or something.”
Ted commented on another part of the story. “You made it out of there in one piece though? What about the others with you? You said there were hundreds.”
Hannah swallowed and looked away, glancing towards the trees. She gave no answer to the question, which left Ted picturing her running away while her colleagues stayed to fight. Did that make her a coward, or just smart? If she hadn’t run, she would have just died with everybody else. And the dead didn’t care about loyalty or courage. In the grand scheme of things, it probably didn’t matter. If you counted the death toll in the United Kingdom alone, you were looking at tens of millions. A couple hundred soldiers was insignificant when you thought of it that way.
With no more words spoken, they carried on along the road in silence. Hannah bowed her head solemnly like she hoped Ted might offer words of advice or solace. That wasn’t his duty. Let the soldier make peace with herself.
The road widened ahead, with a listing burger van parked in a lay-by off to the left. Ted was parched from the walk, and the near-death experience he had just had at the hands of the demons—or dees, apparently, in military speak—so he quickened his pace and made a beeline for the van.
“Don’t be so hasty,” warned Hannah.
“It’s a burger van, not an unexploded bomb. How have you been surviving?”
“Hunting mostly. I took down a deer a few days ago and camped out by a stream. Learnt a bit of bushcraft during a training tour in Belize, like.”
Ted made it over to the van and opened the back door. “Sounds nice, you should’ve stayed—” He covered his nose with his arm and gagged. “Bleedin’ ‘ell!”
“What is it?” Hannah hurried to catch up, raising her rifle.
“It’s nothing.” He stepped up into the van while keeping his face covered. “Think I’d be used to the stench by now.”
The corpse was an insect-ridden puddle on the floor, with ghastly cheeks hanging from a browning skull. Its eyeballs were yellow and massive, skin drawn back around them. The tongue also seemed overly large, jutting from between exposed jawbones. It was unclear how the person had died, but the fact they were in one piece suggested they had taken their own lives.
“Get out of there,” said Hannah. “You’ll catch… I dunno, something.”
“Just a sec.” Ted clambered towards the back of the van where a fridge stood. No power, of course, but inside were three-dozen cans of pop and several bottles of water. He searched beneath the counter until he found a bunch of plastic bags, then filled them with the drinks. The cans were warm, but it didn’t matter. The time of chilled drinks and fresh sandwiches had passed.
Ted gathered the carrier bags along his arm and climbed out the van. Hannah saw what he had and licked her lips, which were notably dry and pasty. “You gonna share?”
“You’re the one with a gun, do I have much choice?”
“It’s a rifle.”
“Huh?”
“You keep calling it a gun. It bugs me. It’s a rifle.”
Ted pulled out a can of cherry cola, a flavour he hated, and handed it to her. “It shoots bullets don’t it? That’s a gun as far as I’m concerned, luv.”
Hannah took the can of pop and sighed. “Yeah, I suppose so. It’s just an Army thing. A gun is something you’d find on a Navy boat. A rifle is what this is, pet.”
“SA-80, right? I still remember the big hoo-hah when they introduced it. Weapon of the future and all that.”
Hannah patted her rifle like a pet. “Aye. I think the original left a lot to be desired, but they improved it over time. I’ve been carrying it so long now it feels like a part of me.” She pulled the tab on her can and took a swig.
“How many bullets you got left?” Ted asked.
“Rounds.”
“Huh?”
“It fires bullets, but it’s loaded with rounds. The round is the casing that houses the bullet. To answer your question, I have one magazine of ammunition left after saving your arse. Plus a few rounds left in this one.” She tapped the magazine hanging out the bottom of the rifle. It rattled and sounded hollow. “When we made our last stand in Derby, we knew we’d be up against a large force, so each of us had about a dozen mags of ammo. It still wasn’t enough. I was down to my last two by the time I made a run for it.”
“How long have you been on the road?”
“Nine days, like.”
Ted blanched. “Nine days? I assumed you were talking about things that happened right at the start. You’re telling me the Army was still around as recently as nine days ago?”
Hannah nodded. “I might be the last soldier left. Sorry.”
Ted nodded. Was she really the last soldier left? The final witness of mankind’s pitiful last stand? It wasn’t for definite. If the Army in these parts had still been around nine days ago, perhaps there were other groups fighting back. The world was cut off from itself. No telling who was alive and where. Strangely, it sparked a slither of hope inside of him, and he had to push the feeling away before it wrecked him. He uncapped a bottle of water to take a sip. As he tilted his head back, he spotted something at the side of the road fifty-metres ahead. “Hey, there’s a bus over there.”
“Yeah, I see it,” said Hannah following his gaze. “You think we can get her going again?”
“Was thinking more I could try the battery in my truck and get back on my way.”
“Heading north?”
“North and alone.”
Hannah grunted. “Were you this sociable in your former life?”
Ted started up the road, unwilling to comment on his former life—couldn’t even think about it. Hannah, followed him like a stray dog, nipping at his heels the whole way until they reached the bus—although it turned out to be a coach when they got there. Rather than being parked off to the side of the road, it was actually set in a small parking area, big enough only for five or six vehicles. The nearby forest was so thick it had hidden the spot from the road. A large wooden noticeboard stood beside the beginnings of an overgrown path, and a bronze plaque fixed along its top read: KIELDER FOREST PARK OUTDOOR ACTIVITY CENTRE.
Hannah nodded to the sign. “Ever been?”
Ted shook his head. “I’m from Essex. This might be the furthest I’ve ever been north.”
“Yeah, I imagine Scotland’s not far away.”
“I might already be there if you hadn’t shot my bloody engine.”
“I said I’m sorry. Look, I’ll help you get back on your way, like, but wouldn’t it be better to stick together?”
“No.” Ted went around to the bus’s door and yanked on it. It didn’t move until Hannah arrived next to him and pushed a red button that
released it manually. “My dad was a bus driver most his life. How about yours?”
“My old man was a professional piss head. Laid a brick from time to time, and taught me how to do it, but most the time, you could find him down whatever boozer hadn’t barred him yet.”
“You’re a brick layer then?”
“Builder. Ran my own firm for twenty years. Call me a brick layer again and we’ll have a problem.”
Hannah put her hands up, letting her rifle hang free on its strap. “Long as you stop calling my weapon a gun, we have a deal.”
Ted stepped up into the coach’s interior and started down the carpeted aisle. It was clean and empty, with only the odd crisp packet to show that anyone had been there.
“What you looking for?” Hannah enquired, climbing into the aisle behind him.
“I dunno yet. One thing I’ve learned these last couple months is you never know what you’ll find where. One time, I found a dildo in a washing machine. Still haven’t figured out how the bloody thing got there.”
Hannah cackled with laughter.
Ted cursed in a mixture of fright and irritation. “Soddin’ ‘ell!”
Hannah covered her mouth. “Sorry!”
“Just try to remember this is the end of the world, yeah, luv’?”
“It’s been a while since I heard anything funny. I wasn’t ready for it.”
“Glad I amuse you.” Ted flipped over a magazine he had found on one of the seats. It was some kind of teen magazine coloured pink and emblazoned with pictures of girls in snazzy, plastic jewellery. On the next seat, he found a half-eaten apple.
“Hey,” Hannah called from near the front. There’s something stashed in the seat pocket here.” She pulled it out and examined it. “Looks like a roster full of names.” She squinted and started reading out loud. “D of E pupil list… Is that the name of a school, you think?”
“Duke of Edinburgh. It’s a youth reward scheme. Hiking, archery, stuff like that.” He pulled out the photograph he kept in his jeans pocket and peeked at it before sliding it back.
Hannah shook her head, embarrassed. “Yeah, our regiment was always taking those kids out on weekends. How did you twig what it was so quickly?”
“My daughter was working to get her award.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt the tears behind his eyes. He looked away, biting his lip until it hurt, punishing himself for talking.
“You had a daughter. Shit, I’m—”
“A lot of people had daughters,” he grunted. “Things are a bit beyond sympathy, don’t you reckon?” Hannah kept quiet and stayed where she was at the front of the bus. “There’s nothing here we can use,” he said. “Let’s get the battery and go.”
“All right.” Hannah climbed out of the coach, and Ted was right behind her.
“Where d’you think they went?” asked Hannah as she continued studying the roster sheet in her hand. “The kids, I mean.”
Ted shrugged and gave no answer. Why torment himself by thinking about a bunch of dead kids? He headed for the front of the coach, wanting to get back on the road more than ever. He’d never opened up a coach before, so he was hoping Hannah’s knowledge went further than the emergency door release. Soon, he might actually be rid of the yappy squaddie.
She was still chatting away, even now. “They must have been here visiting the activity centre,” she said. “You don’t think they could still be alive, do you?”
“No. Help me get the bonnet open.”
Hannah laughed. “You’re more likely to find the engine at the back of a model like this. The battery might even be at the side. Search for a compartment. You take the far side and I’ll take the—shit!”
Ted barked irritably as Hannah grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him into the ditch at the edge of the car park. “The hell you doing, you bleedin’ idiot?”
Hannah shushed him, her rifle aimed down the road ahead. “Look!”
Ted followed the aim of her rifle until he saw the pack of demons a hundred metres down the road. They were spread out in a line, scouring the landscape. They bounded like playful children, hopping and rolling. Luckily, the trees hid Hannah and Ted from their sight.
“They’ll be on us any minute,” said Hannah, sinking lower into the bushes.
“So shoot ‘em.”
“No. It’s the bloody apes! When we fought them back in Derby, we wasted half our ammo trying to hit them. They never move in a straight line, and once they spot you they move like the clappers. I fire a single shot and they’ll rip us apart before I can take a second one. We have to get out of here. And now!”
“Where? There’s nowhere to go. Maybe we can hide on the bus?”
Hannah looked at him like he was a moron. “No way! They’re looking for survivors. These small groups are all over the place, like Nazi death squads. They’ll check the coach just like we did. Come on, we have to head into the forest.”
Ted stared into the dark mass of trees and hesitated. “I-I’m really more of a city person.”
“Fine, then stay here and be a dead person. I thought you knew what you were doing out here!”
“Damn it! Okay, I’m coming.”
He allowed her to drag him into the forest, and within a few seconds, he had never felt so lost. So much for heading north.
8
DR KAMIYO
“Dow yow move!”
The sight of the castle still had Kamiyo’s mind reeling about a world of knights and squires, and that the weapon digging into his back was a lance or sword. He had to remind himself that this was reality, and that death lurked around every corner.
In a calm, non-threatening voice, Kamiyo addressed the man holding him hostage. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anybody lived here.”
A derisory chuckle sounded in his ear. “It’s an 11th Century castle. Nobody lives here, idiot.”
The stranger possessed an accent that sounded local to the Midlands, a slightly-ridiculous sounding drawl. Kamiyo wasn’t about to state that opinion out loud though. “My mistake,” he said. “If you let me turn around, I’m sure we can sort the matter out. There’s no need for trouble.”
“Well, aren’t yow the polite gentleman!” The pressure between his shoulder blades increased. “What am yow doing ‘ere? How’d yow find us?”
“I didn’t know this place existed! I’m just trying to stay alive. Please, let me turn around. Please!”
“How ‘bout I kill yow right ‘ere instead?”
“Leave him alone, Frank!” came another voice. It shared the same Black Country accent but was female and not as thick.
The man with the weapon argued with the mystery woman. “We dow know where he came from, or who he’s with.”
The woman spoke again. “Settle down, Frank. Let’s not assume he’s an evil monster until we at least get his name.”
“My name is Christopher,” said Kamiyo quickly. “Chris.”
“Yow dow look much like a Christopher,” said the man who was apparently ‘Frank’.
Kamiyo groaned. “Seriously? My father is Japanese. My mother is English. Or, I suppose, they were. Either way, they named me Chris.”
“Let him go, Frank!” The woman was demanding it now.
“Bloody ‘ell, fine! On yow ‘ed be it, Jackie!” The pressure removed itself from Kamiyo’s back. “Any sudden moves, pal, and I’ll stick yow like a pig.”
Kamiyo kept his hands in the air and turned around to face his captor, imagining some ruffian with a scar across his eyebrow and a broken tooth. Instead, he stared down past a thatch of messy brown hair to see the pudgy face of a little man glaring up at him. ‘Frank’ snarled at him like a bulldog and wielded a large stick. “Um, hello, it’s, um, good to meet you.”
A woman appeared from behind a crumbling outbuilding that was little more than an archway and a single wall. “Sorry about the greeting,” she announced while approaching at a brisk pace. “You’re the first person we’ve seen in, well, forever. We’ve been worried
about someone finding us and making trouble.”
Kamiyo glanced around but couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. “I’m sorry for trespassing. I just stumbled upon this place, I swear!”
“No way did yow,” said Frank, shaking his stick like a little caveman. “We’re a mile inside a forest the size of a city. Nobody just stumbles here.”
“Well, I dow know…” Kamiyo cleared his throat and started again. “Well, I don’t understand what you want me to say.”
Frank continued to glower at him. He absolutely did resemble a bulldog; except bulldogs were friendly.
“My name is Jackie,” said the woman, placing her hands on her bony hips. “Before the demons came, I was an overweight office manager. Now I’m an apocalyptic survivor living off the land.” She laughed a little too fraughtly. “I imagine you have a similar story of your own, Chris.”
“I was a doctor at St Thomas’s Hospital in Manchester,” he explained. “Maternity. I’ve been travelling alone for… however long it’s been. Months?”
“Time has certainly lost its significance, hasn’t it? If you’re really a doctor, you couldn’t have come at a better time.”
“He ain’t no doctor,” said Frank, rolling his eyes in dramatic fashion.
Kamiyo sighed, took a moment to study the dumpy man, then decided upon a gambit to earn his trust. “You have PSS, right? Proportional Short Stature? What was it, a thyroid problem? Childhood sickness?”
Hell On Earth Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 87
