Kamiyo looked towards the campfire, locating the soldier and the unknown man who’d intervened during the attack. The man with the hammer was large in a burly, beer-gut kind of way—all strength and no stamina. The soldier—who was not a man but a woman—carried herself like a cobra, coiled and ready to strike. Whoever they were, the people here owed them a debt—including Kamiyo. That demon had been about to eat his face when the soldier had taken its head off.
Kamiyo put a hand on Jackie’s shoulder. “It’s been a crazy evening, but it isn’t over yet. Can you get this young man indoors for me, please?”
She nodded. “I’ll go get some help carrying him. You go check on everybody else.”
Kamiyo scrambled off the ground and hurried over to the campfire. Most of the survivors gathered there, no doubt feeling safer in the light of its flames. Beyond the fire lay several inert shadows, featureless mounds representing bodies. How many of them were human and how many were demon? He dared not think.
The screaming died down and turned to anguished sobbing. The few adults were spread thin but tried their best to comfort the several dozen children and teenagers.
Kamiyo’s first destination was the spot where he’d seen Carrie-Anne bleeding from her neck. She was still lying up against the same tree, but now she was dead. Two blonde boys leant over her body and sobbed quietly. Kamiyo stayed back rather than interrupt their grief.
The unforgiving part of himself flared and tried to place blame for not helping the woman earlier, but the rational part of him knew the woman had never stood a chance—not without immediate modern medical intervention. He had known it earlier, which was why he chose to help the young man flailing in the water. After four years in a hospital, triage became an innate skill, and most doctors knew within a single second who to save and who to let die. You helped whoever possessed the most chance of surviving, which sounded counter-intuitive, but the reality was if you tried to help the person closest to death, you only wasted time better spent on someone else with more time to spare. Carrie-Anne had provided the death in exchange for the drowning man’s life.
There were still other people who needed his help. Kamiyo knew this because he could hear their plaintive cries. People crammed the clearing around the campfire, rushing around while paying little attention to what was in front of them. It made searching out the injured difficult. Five minutes passed before he spotted a child in need of help.
The young lad was sitting on the wooden planks leading up to the cabin. He wasn’t crying out in pain, but the angle of his lower arm was grotesque. Despite the hideous injury, the boy stared off into the distance as if lost in a daydream.
Or a nightmare full of demons.
“Hey,” said Kamiyo, approaching the boy carefully. “I’m Dr Kamiyo. You’re hurt, and I want to help.”
The boy gave no response, but his eyes flicked to the side, watching Kamiyo’s arrival.
Kamiyo put both hands up in peace. “A terrible thing has happened, but it’s over now. You’re safe. I think your wrist is broken though, so I’d like to take a look at it.” The boy sighed but sat back to let Kamiyo look at his arm. It was as if he had no interest at all. Unsettling, because a broken wrist should be immensely painful. “Does it hurt?” Kamiyo probed the wrist lightly. Without the luxury of an x-ray machine, it was hard to be sure, but it felt like the ulna had snapped. The bone hadn’t broken the skin, which was a blessing because the resulting infection might have been deadly in these conditions. “I have to say, you are one very brave boy. What’s your name?”
“Nathan.”
“How old are you, Nathan?”
“Fourteen.”
“You want to talk about what happened to your arm?”
“Monsters,” he said, still staring off at the lake. “One of them grabbed me. I tried to get away, but my arm twisted. Then that man came with his hammer and smashed the thing to pieces.”
Kamiyo glanced at the man with the hammer, sitting down now and staring into the fire. His heavy hammer lay on the grass beside him. Kamiyo looked back at Nathan. “One of the bones in your wrist is broken, but we’ll get you sorted out, okay? What we need to do is find something we can use as a splint to keep the broken bones in place while they heal. Good thing is, bones grow back even stronger after they’ve broken.”
Nathan blinked languidly, possibly in shock. Unsurprising, as everyone was likely suffering various levels of psychological trauma.
“Nathan, you wait right here, okay? I’ll find something I can use for the splint.” Kamiyo headed away but didn’t need to go far. His eyes fell upon the pile of weapons Jackie had been handing out during the fight. It lay depleted now, but he found a perfectly sized wooden stake right near the top. At first, his mind conjured images of vampires in the forest, but when he found two more matching stakes, he realised it was a set of cricket stumps. He left the two spares and took the other to Nathan. The remaining problem was how to secure it to the boy’s arm, but he resolved the issue quickly by using the child’s boot laces. “We need your arm to heal more than we need your boots to stay on,” he said with a smile. Nathan nodded blankly, not even reacting to the sound of a young girl shrieking nearby.
A few minutes later and the splint was held firmly in place. As long as the boy kept his wrist out of harm’s way, he had a good chance of healing well. “Do you want me to get anybody, Nathan?”
He shook his head.
“Okay, well, you stay here and rest. I’ll go see if anybody else needs my help.” He stepped away from the boy, still unsettled by the lack of emotion. Was it a psychotic break? Tonight, Nathan had learned that monsters were real.
Kamiyo sought more people in need, but again it was hard to see past the rushing bodies. He spotted Jackie and made eye-contact with her as she followed Steven and Eric into the cabin, carrying the young man from the lake. They shared a brief nod, but Kamiyo left them to their business.
“Help me! What’s happening?”
Kamiyo turned to see a woman rushing towards him; although truthfully, he was just in her way. He reached out and caught her in his arms, then held her until she stopped struggling. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m a doctor. Do you need help?”
“I… Who? What is happening?”
“Demons attacked the camp, but it’s okay. They’ve been dealt with, you’re safe.”
“W-We were attacked?” The woman calmed herself a little, loosening enough that Kamiyo dared release her. She didn’t run off, or try to fight him, but she seemed disorientated. He recognised her.
“Is… Is your name Carol?”
The woman nodded. “Yes, who are you?”
“My name is Christopher. I just arrived here. You’ve been very unwell, Carol,”—He touched her forehead with the back of his hand—“but I think you’re on the mend.”
She nodded, as if suddenly remembering herself how ill she had been. “I remember being hot,” she muttered. “What’s wrong with me?”
“You have Typhoid Fever, but your temperature has come down a lot. Your body has fought it off, but you’ll need lots of rest to avoid complications. Come with me, away from all this pandemonium.”
She allowed him to take her by arm and guide her towards the steps of the cabin. He sat her down next to Nathan, and the two said hello. They obviously knew one another, but Nathan showed no surprise at Carol suddenly being back on her feet. He promptly resumed staring across the lake.
Kamiyo turned to help the next person, but before he made it two steps, Carol called after him. “Did Bray have Typhoid Fever too?”
Kamiyo turned back, frowning. “Yes, why?”
Carol swallowed, and it seemed like an effort. She took a moment to get her mouth moving again. “When I woke up on the grass, Michael and Bray were lying next to me. Bray was dead. Philip must be devastated.”
Kamiyo jolted. “What?”
“Bray is dead.”
Kamiyo turned and ran.
At the shaded area next to the lake,
a trembling silhouette hunched over an inert shadow—Philip sobbing over his son’s body. Kamiyo knelt beside the father, checking Bray for a pulse. There was none. The boy’s body already cooled.
“What happened?” Philip demanded through his tears.
Kamiyo put a hand on his back. “I’m sorry. Bray must have gone into convulsions due to his fever.”
“You said he would get better!”
“I hoped he would. These conditions… Nothing is certain, Philip. I’m so sorry.”
Philip turned to face Kamiyo. Snot and tears caked his face. “I wasn’t here with him when he died. The demons attacked and I…” He broke into sobs.
“We had a fight on our hands.”
“If the demons hadn’t come, you might have done something. You could have saved him.”
Kamiyo doubted it. He had hoped bringing the boy outside would have been enough, but perhaps he should’ve submerged Bray in the lake. “I don’t know if I could have done anything. He needed medicine—antibiotics.”
Philip sobbed into his hands. “We’re all going to die in this godforsaken forest. I didn’t think the demons were real, but they are, aren’t they? They’re going to kill us all.”
Kamiyo wished he could offer words of comfort, but the man likely had the truth of it. So he checked on Michael instead—the last remaining patient. The boy’s temperature had dropped just like Carol’s. He, too, had fought off the infection.
Bray was an unlucky statistic.
15
CALIGULA
Caligula sat on a pile of bodies assembled from a small group of humans his troops had plucked from a farmhouse. The foolish worms had been raising chickens and growing crops, naïve enough to think they had a future. His troops had tortured them for hours before finally slaughtering them, starting with the youngest so that the adults could watch.
Now his troops were resting. He released his psychic grip on their freewill for a while so he might clear his mind and recuperate. Even the damned needed respite, for it was only the brief moments of tranquillity that made damnation so complete.
And it was during these brief moments of rest that Caligula revelled in his past glories and basked in the anticipation of future glories ahead. His would be the Earth’s final, lasting empire. The southern human army may have crushed the Fallen, but they would not crush the mighty god Caligula. When the humans from the south travelled north to reclaim their lands, they would dash themselves against the most terrifying army in the history. With Caligula as its triumphant general. The Red Lord would have no choice but to consider him an equal.
Rux shambled towards him now, eyes pointed at the ground. As always, the sight of the pathetic Gaul caused anger, and Caligula had to fight the urge to pummell the wretched creature into dust. “What is it, slave?”
Rux dared make eye-contact. “The Germanic Guard have carried out your orders, Imperator. Several cohorts have been sent to retrieve the splinters of our broken southern legions. Their numbers shall be added to our own. Your scouts report that many scattered when the Fallen were defeated.”
Caligula snarled. “You do not speak of the Fallen, slave. They are exalted even in death.”
“Yes, yes, Imperator! I prostrate myself before you.”
Caligula kicked the slave, but there was little passion in the act. “Begone!”
“Yes, Imperator, but…”
Caligula roared. “What is it?”
“The troops suffer confusion. They hear the voice of the Red Lord no more. Hell echoes empty. We… fear. We fear, Imperator.”
Caligula struck Rux across the face, denting his cheek. “The Red Lord’s will is not your concern. You follow only my command. The wishes of the Red Lord are for my understanding alone.”
“Yes, Imperator, it is just…”
Caligula struck the demon again, sending it rolling in the dirt. “Silence, before I crush your eyes into sludge.”
“The brother’s feel!” Rux cried out insolently, almost in anger. How dare this wretched slave shout at him, a god on earth? But what the demon said gave Caligula pause. Sensing he wasn’t about to be struck again, Rux regained his feet. “We feel, Imperator. The Red Lord has abandoned our thoughts, and instead we… we have maggots in our brains, worms in our minds. What is it we see? What is it we… feel?”
Caligula rubbed a lump in his emaciated and ulcerated throat. “What do you speak of, slave?”
Rux trembled and clutched his head. “It hurts, master. Make it stop!”
“I am not your master. I am your Imperator. Your god. You feel nothing, slave. You are flesh and obedience, and nothing else.” Caligula pounced on Rux, his eight-foot frame crushing the five-foot slave against the ground. He beat the lowly creature for an hour until there was barely anything left. Then he rose up and looked upon his troops. The fear in their eyes was palpable. His legions were afraid. And somewhere, deep down, Caligula was too.
Red Lord, where are you?
16
HANNAH
Hannah couldn’t believe what was going on around her. For the last two hours, she’d been warming herself beside a campfire while watching people rush around like headless chickens. It was as though she’d made a wish, and it’d come true. She’d been alone for almost two weeks, her sanity cracking, and unsure if she would ever see another human being again. Then she had bumped into Ted and found this place. It was like stumbling upon a ruby in the desert.
The chaos had settled, and now she and Ted were receiving suspicious glances from the strangers whose camp they’d invaded. Did they suspect she and Ted had something to do with the dees attacking?
They should be thanking us. If me and Ted had arrived any later, there’d be nothing left but bodies. We saved these people’s arses.
Ted had been an animal during the battle, rushing from the trees with that hammer of his like a balding action hero with a beer gut. Something had come over the guy, the kind of bloodlust she’d heard stories about from guys who’d fought in Afghanistan. It happened to a person when all that remained was rage. Even now, while Ted sat staring into the fire, he wasn’t right. His shoulders rode too high beneath his ears, and he went minutes at a time without blinking. “You okay?” she asked him cautiously.
Ted half-glanced in her direction. “Just another day in paradise.”
“This place is paradise, Ted. Aren’t you glad to catch your breath?”
“You don’t know what I’ve been through,” he said evenly. “Or what I deem to be paradise.”
Hannah sighed. “Fair enough, but still… can you believe this place? They must have been hiding here the whole time, surviving off the land. They have fishing poles and nets. There’s even a castle up there on the hill. A freaking castle!”
“Pity it ain’t filled with an army of swordsmen.” He picked up a clump of grass and threw it into the fire, watching it burn. “These idiots have been making camp while the world was ending. If we didn’t get here when we did they’d be demon food. They weren’t even fighting back.”
Hannah had witnessed the same thing. The people here had been screaming in terror instead of trying to defend themselves. It reminded her of the very first days of the invasion. People had given into panic back then, too, falling back on their faith that somehow things would be okay—that reality would suddenly tilt back into place and the powers that be would save them. There was no such thing as monsters, they had told themselves as monsters devoured their families. Those days of denial soon ended as people learned you either fought back with everything you had, or you died. “These must be the Duke of Edinburgh kids from the coach,” she said. “You reckon those dees on the road found the coach and guessed people would be out here?”
Ted huffed. “No. Demons don’t investigate or plan. They move in straight lines, eating up the world piece by piece.”
“Then how did they find this place?”
“Because I led them here,” said a voice from behind them. Hannah looked up and saw a slender you
ng man with thick black hair and mildly East-Asian features. He smiled at them but looked weighed down by invisible anchors. “I think the demons followed me from the road.”
“You what?” Another man emerged from the shadows and approached the fire. He was older, with wild greying hair. Tears streaked his cheeks behind broken spectacles as he glared at the other man. “Y-You led those monsters here?”
The doctor became anxious. “I-I… Yes, I think I might have. They chased me from a house I was searching. I escaped into the forest. They must have followed me. I’m so sorry, Philip.”
The older man looked shocked. He kept moving his lips, but it took a while for him to get his words out. “My boy,” he uttered. “Bray died alone because of you!”
The younger man didn’t see the punch coming, and it clocked him right in the jaw. His lights went out, and he belly-flopped to the ground. His left arm landed right inside the campfire, and if it wasn’t for Ted dragging him back and smothering the flames with his sleeve, he might have gone up like a match.
Hannah leapt to her feet and put her hands out to the violent man. “Back off, mate!”
“Who are you people?” he demanded. “We were fine here. We were fine until all of you turned up!”
Hannah kept her hand in his face. One thing she hated was a bully, and this man had just sucker-punched someone. “Just calm down. Philip, right? No one needs to get hurt here, okay?”
Philip glared at the man he’d punched and shook his head. “Too late.”
A woman appeared and ushered Philip away before he could do more damage. Hannah joined Ted on the ground and tried to stir the unconscious man whose eyes fluttered open and shut. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
Hannah frowned. “Sorry for what? You’re the one who got punched, pet.”
He sat up gingerly, rubbing his chin and groaning. “I deserved it.”
Hell On Earth Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 91
