She pulled him into a massive hug. “Thank fuck for you!”
“Yeah,” said Tony from nearby. He sounded deflated and out of energy. “Good lad.”
Portsmouth lit up again as another shell hit.
It was time to go.
“What is your goddamn obsession with me?” Smithy was no longer afraid of this demon, Frankie Walker, but utterly annoyed by its dogged pursuit of him. Just when it seemed like he and Harriet might finally get to safety, Frankie had arrived and screwed things up again.
Frankie flicked his fingers like a gangster, and it became an obscene gesture when his index finger flew off and landed in the grass. “You dissed me, blud. I don’t take that shit from no one, you get me?”
Harriet looked at Smithy. “You… you know him?”
Smithy moved Harriet behind him. “Yeah, and he’s bad news.”
“You have no fucking idea,” said Frankie, grinning. “I’m going to make you regret the day you were born. I’m going to—”
Smithy lifted his handgun and shot Frankie in the kneecap.
Frankie’s leg splayed to the side, but he didn’t seem pained by the injury. After a moment, he was able to straighten up again as if nothing had happened. Anger overtook him. “I’m going to ruin you.”
Frankie leapt at Smithy and grabbed hold of him. The two began to struggle, chest to chest like ballroom dancers. Harriet yelped, calling for help. Attracting attention.
It began to rain harder, more heavily.
Frankie was strong. Too strong to fight off.
Smithy grunted. “I feel sorry for… sorry for your little brother. Davey deserved better than you.”
Frankie roared. “Fuck you!”
“He probably killed himself after he shot you. I know that’s what I would do if I had a pathetic wannabe gangster for a brother like you. Who can blame him?”
Frankie roared again. He let go of Smithy to strike him, which gave Smithy room to bring his gun up and whack the demon in the forehead. Frankie stumbled backwards, clutching his face. Smithy lifted his handgun and shot him in his other knee. Frankie slipped on the wet grass and crumpled to the ground like a broken accordion. This time he hissed in pain.
Smithy sneered. “How does that feel, huh? Bet it hurts, innit?”
“Stop it,” said Harriet. “Let’s just get out of here, Smithy. Please!”
But Smithy was enjoying himself too much. This demon had done nothing but torture him since they had met. Now, finally, he had the upper hand. Smithy pointed his handgun again and shot Frankie in the stomach, folding the demon forward. “You’re rotten. You need putting down.”
Harriet pleaded with Smithy again, clutching herself against the rain. “Please, I want to go. I want to get to the coach.”
“One minute,” said Smithy, wiping a hand over his face. “I need to finish this.”
I want to finish this.
He couldn’t leave this place knowing Frankie was still around. He was done being chased. No more.
Stepping right up to Frankie, he levelled the handgun at the demon’s ugly, twisted face. Frankie grinned but didn’t try to get up. “Always thought I’d go out like this – gunned down by a rival. Born on the streets, die on the streets.”
Frankie was deluded. Even in death, he pictured himself as some notorious criminal who would never be forgotten. Smithy felt nothing – no remorse nor anger. This demon in front of him was just a broken thing, a tattered echo of a former life, a scratched record stuck on repeat. Killing this thing would be merciful.
“Go to hell, blud, you get me?” Smithy pulled the trigger and obliterated Frankie’s face. The body slumped sideways into the wet grass as rain beat against his ulcerated skin. Smithy blinked. The sun rose beyond the hill, bringing morning with it. He could finally put this night to rest. He turned towards Harriet, squinting through the downpour.
Harriet stared back at him, terror stitched onto her face. Before Smithy could ask her what was wrong, a demon stepped out from behind her. Crimolok – or Vamps. He was still unsure about that whole thing.
“You’re a warrior,” said Crimolok, gazing at Smithy and then down at what had recently been Frankie Walker, “but he was weak and addled. His gate was closed.”
Smithy frowned. “What?”
Crimolok looked up to the heavens, but the rain didn’t seem to touch him. It was as though the clouds wouldn’t dare offend him. “When my pets came through the gates, they formed tethers. If the gate though which they came closes, they can no longer sustain themselves here on Earth. Soon, such things shall not matter.”
Harriet went to move over to Smithy, but Crimolok gripped her around the back of the neck with a massive hand and yanked her backwards. “Not so fast, worm. I am not yet done with you.”
“P-Please.”
“Let her go,” said Smithy. It wasn’t an order but a plea.
“If she belongs to you, then perhaps you should have kept a closer eye.” With that, Crimolok flicked his wrist and snapped Harriet’s neck like a twig. He let her body fall to the ground like a bag of rubbish.
“You bastard!” Smithy raised his handgun and took a shot. Crimolok flinched as the bullet struck his arm, but Smithy had been aiming for his head. He didn’t intend to miss again. Marching forward, he fired over and over. Crimolok leapt aside like an acrobat, avoiding every round with ease. Smithy vowed to use every bullet he had until he killed the demon.
Crimolok dived back and forth in the rain, cackling and hooting. Mocking. Smithy stopped firing. While he hadn’t counted, he knew his ammunition was nearing an end. He had a pocketful more, but if he stopped to reload, Crimolok would tear him apart.
He crouched down and focused on his senses. He focused on the flickering shadows that were slowly fading with the approaching dawn. He focused on what he could hear – distant moans and a nearby rustling in the grass. He took a deep breath, tensed his body. Waited.
Crimolok leapt at him from the left. Smithy threw himself forward and rolled out of the way. He pivoted on his toes, lined Crimolok up in his sights, and prepared to pull the trigger. “I got you now, bitch.”
Crimolok’s mouth opened wide in an animalistic roar.
Smithy pulled the trigger.
“NO!” Mass collided with Smithy and knocked him onto his back. The shot went wide. Crimolok grinned, and then retreated backwards into the rain. His cackling laughter seemed to echo off the skies themselves.
“The hell are you doing, man? I had him!”
Mass grabbed Smithy by the front of his shirt and yelled in his face. “You idiot! We can’t kill him.”
Smithy frowned, but then he realised what he had been about to do. “Shit!”
“You kill him, he gets loose.”
“So what do we do then?”
“We make it to the coach and get the hell out of here – and we take Vamps with us.”
“You mean Crimolok?”
There was pain on Mass’s face, but he nodded. “We can’t leave him here. He’s coming with us.”
Smithy blinked. As he was lying on his back, the rain was hitting him right in the face. “How do you propose we make that happen?”
Mass yanked Smithy to his feet. “I have no sodding idea, but we—” He stopped talking and looked at Harriet lying on the ground.
“It’s my fault,” said Smithy. “I was too busy getting my revenge to realise she was in danger. I’m a piece of—”
Mass grabbed his shoulder. “We lose people – it happens – but we keep on fighting. Come on, the others made it to the barn.”
Smithy took one last look at Harriet, lying in the wet grass like a pale doll. “I really would have liked to have earned that kiss,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Come on,” said Mass. “It’s getting light. We need to move before the demons find us.”
They headed for the barn.
Mass was running on empty. He was cut all over – deeply in places – and had gone days without sleep. If he
didn’t get the hell out of there soon, he would pass out. Luckily, safety was in reach. They’d made it to the barn under the cover of darkness, just in time to avoid the dawn. The coach was parked inside the barn and Gemma had the key.
The one big problem was that Vamps was still out there somewhere. They couldn’t leave without him. If they got him back to Portsmouth maybe they could do something, maybe they could help him…
“Where’s Harriet?” Addy asked. She was over by the barn’s door, staring intently at the rain.
“Dead,” said Mass before Smithy had the chance to tell them it was his fault. The lad was taking it hard, but the blame belonged to the demons, not him.
“Damn it,” said Tox, throwing himself back against the side of the coach. “We wouldn’t have made it this far if she hadn’t helped us.”
Gemma curled her lip distastefully. “You mean when she smashed me in the back of the head with a tin can?”
Addy turned back and grinned. “Yeah, when she did that.”
“How’s it looking out there?” Mass asked.
Addy peeked out again. “It’s quiet. Dawn’s arrived, but the demons aren’t anywhere I can see.”
“What about Vamps?”
“I don’t see him.”
Smithy shook his head. “He was right out there.”
“Must be licking his wounds,” said Mass. “Good thing you only shot him in the arm.”
Smithy looked around. “Hey, where’s David?”
“He never made it back with us,” said Addy. “He wandered off in the dark.”
“We need to find him. I think he’s dying. Crimolok said that when a gate closes it messes up the demons that came through it.”
That was interesting, thought Mass, but it was a later discussion, not a now discussion.
Tox shook his head and grunted. “Can we just get on the coach? We need to get out of here. If we find the little demon, we’ll get him on board, but he’s not a priority.”
“I’m not leaving without Dave,” said Smithy. “Anyway, Mass doesn’t want to leave without taking Crimolok prisoner first.”
Tox and Addy both frowned. “What?”
“He’s our enemy,” said Mass, “our highest-ranking enemy, and we have a chance to capture him. We can’t see it wasted.”
Gemma began to laugh. She tipped her head back dramatically and hitched her shoulders. “You people are like the bloody A Team. Don’t you ever give up? How many of you need to die before you realise we’re all done for? Best we can do is get on this coach and try to eke out a few more days of living.”
“Best you can hope for,” said Addy, “is a few more minutes before I shoot you in the face.”
“You still need me to free the women in the container.”
“The women you locked up, you mean?”
Tox groaned. “I almost forgot about them. So, let me get this straight? We need to take one demon prisoner and find another who’s apparently our friend, free a load of women from some locked containers, then drive out of here like Mad Max?”
Mass’s guts felt like they had sunk down to his knees. The thought of achieving all that made him want to just give up, but that wasn’t an option. He put a hand on the coach’s front bumper to steady himself and then chuckled. “That’s about the size of it, yeah.”
Tox loaded a fresh pair of shells into his shotgun and snapped the chamber closed. “Okay, well, I still say we get on board this coach and take it from there. It’s all very well wanting to be heroes, but there’s no point us dying trying to achieve an impossible mission.”
“Amen,” said Gemma. “Finally one of you speaks sense.”
Addy glared at Gemma and shut her up.
“He’s right,” said Smithy. “I think we should just get the women out of the containers and head to Portsmouth. There’re too many demons here for us to deal with, but if we came back in force, we could capture Crimolok easily.”
“If he’s still here,” said Mass. “This might be our only chance. Anyway, I thought you weren’t going anywhere without Dave.”
Smithy sighed. He had lost the peppy spark he’d had when he’d first pulled Mass out of that pit. “I guess I agree with Tox. No point being heroes if it just gets us dead. We’ll help Dave if we get a chance.”
Gemma groaned. “Look, I’m unlocking the coach, okay? You lot can continue bickering inside.”
Nobody protested, so Gemma pulled out the key and unlocked the door, sliding it aside and folding it. Then she screamed as someone leapt out and grabbed her around the throat. Everyone in the barn raised their weapons, but the person who had Gemma shielded themself behind her. Mass could just about make out a milky-white eyeball peering around her hair. The arm around her throat ended in a hook. A shotgun jutted out from the side of her hip.
Gemma was still startled, but she calmed a little at the revelation of who had grabbed her. “Nas, what are you doing?”
“Protecting what’s mine. No one is taking this coach.”
“Beg to differ, mate,” said Tox, levelling his shotgun. “If you think holding bitch-face hostage will help you, think again.”
Addy raised her own weapon. “You should have picked a better hostage.”
“Wait!” said Smithy. “We still need the combination from her to get the women free.”
“The women also belong to me,” said Nas. “They are the seeds that shall blossom in the new garden.”
Gemma tried to struggle free. Mass wondered if it was an act. Being taken hostage and getting away with Nas was probably what she wanted. Maybe they were even lovers. Nas was squeezing her throat pretty tightly, though – tightly enough to make her gag. “N-Nas, please, let go of me.”
Nas throttled her harder. “Be quiet.”
“Nas, I-I can’t bre—”
“Be quiet!”
“Let her go,” said Mass. “You ain’t getting out of here.”
“Not alive anyway,” said Tox.
“Beg to differ.” Nas sneered and let off a blast from the shotgun he was holding against Gemma’s hip. Gemma fell to the ground, screaming and clutching her side. Mass thought he wouldn’t be surprised if kickback had broken her pelvis.
Addy hit the ground too. Mass ran to her, panic rising in his chest. In the corner of his eye, he saw Nas scramble back inside the coach. The engine rumbled to life a second later.
“He’s gonna drive out of here,” Tox shouted.
But Mass didn’t care. He grabbed Addy and rolled her onto her back. She blinked and stared at him, wood chips in her hair. “I-I’m okay,” she said. “Don’t let him get away.”
But it was too late.
The bus hitched forward, almost crushing Gemma under its wheels. It crashed through the barn door and took off into the field.
Mass leapt up and started firing. So did Tox, Smithy, and Addy. The coach’s windows shattered and the long vehicle swerved back and forth.
Then it skidded to a stop. The engine stalled.
For a moment, Mass thought they’d shot Nas. Then he saw the obstacle that had presented itself in front of the coach and caused it to skid.
Crimolok stood tall with twenty demons to his left and twenty to his right. If the gunfire hadn’t caused Nas to swerve, he might have mowed right through the line of demons, but the coach had lost too much speed and had been veering at too much of an angle. Perhaps Nas had stamped on the brake out of instinct, but now that the coach had stalled, there would be no driving out of there.
The demons advanced cautiously, looking worse and more abhorrent in the golden glow of dawn. They surrounded the coach, staring in through the high windows. There was no sign of Nas. Mass hoped he wasn’t dead yet, because that would mean his pain was over.
Smithy was hiding behind the barn door, handgun at the ready. He looked at Mass. “What do we do? There’s probably three-dozen demons out there. No chance of sneaking out.”
“And I hate to say it,” said Tox, “but we ain’t fighting our way out either. I g
ot four shells left.”
“I have three,” said Mass, having only one shell left in his pocket after having just loaded two into Honeywell’s shotgun. “How about everyone else?”
Smithy rummaged in his pocket and brought out a handful of small nine-millimetre rounds. “Looks like I’m good for seven or eight shots.”
“I have one shell left, and it’s loaded,” said Addy, raising her shotgun.
Mass quickly did the math. “Over a dozen shots. Not so bad.”
“There’s a round left in my hunting rifle,” said Gemma, still down on the ground. Her words came out in a breathless rasp. “But I don’t think I can fire.”
Mass went over to her. As much as he hated her for what she had done – done to Honeywell, Gross, and all the others – he couldn’t ignore her injuries. She’d been discarded by a man who she had obviously trusted. In real life, you kept grudges, but war made things less personal. For now, their issues were on hold. He checked her over carefully, being sure not to press too hard on her injured side. “I think you dislocated your hip or something. That shotgun really had a kick. Can you get up?”
“I don’t know. Let me—” She placed her hands on the ground and pushed, but she quickly collapsed in pain. “Shite, no, ah, it hurts too much. I-I can’t…”
Mass eased her down. “It’s okay. Just stay still.”
“Fuck her,” said Addy. “Who gives a shit?”
Mass sighed. He hadn’t lost sight of the fact this woman had killed Gross in cold blood, but right now they didn’t need to be turning on each other. “Look, Addy, I know how you feel, but we need to focus on the big issue, which is those demons out there.”
“I-I need you to carry me,” said Gemma. “I don’t think I can make it on my own. Nas has a set of keys for the coach, but mine are still over there on the floor. Just… Help me stand.”
“Fuck you!” said Addy. “How does that stand with you?”
Gemma began to cry, a single tear making its way down her cheek. “I’ve been such an idiot. I’m so sorry. I bought in to all Nas’s bullshit, but when it came to saving himself, he threw me aside. I used to be a police officer. I used to be a good person… What I did to you people… I-I can’t believe what I’ve become.”
Hell On Earth Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 132
