Hell On Earth Box Set | Books 1-6

by Wright, Iain Rob

  Was it you, Tony? Can I trust you?

  Of course not. No one can be trusted.

  Thomas sincerely hoped Colonel Cross was not a traitor, because it would be a shame to shoot such a useful man. But such things happened in war.

  General Thomas finished his speech at around midday, which meant the sun was still shining when Tony entered the train carriage at the far end of the commercial docks. It was Commander Klein’s unofficial office, and while its nights were reserved for poker and drinking, clandestine meetings took place during the day. General Thomas knew of its existence but was yet to risk action. Commander Klein had six nuclear warheads on his submarine. That made the German commander a sovereign nation.

  Tony encountered a scruffy guardsman at the carriage’s sliding door. The uniformed stranger was larger than Tony and put up a thick right hand to bar entry. “State ze business, freund.”

  “Give over, pal! You know who I am, and you know Commander Klein is expecting me.”

  The guardsmen continued to glare, but then a cheeky grin broke his impassivity. “I kid you, ja? Go inside now.”

  It sounded like an order, but Tony knew better than to take offence. The German language was far more direct and efficient than wishy-washy English. He nodded to the guard and then went through the sliding door. The carriage’s interior was mostly uninhabited, bar Commander Klein and a single companion sitting at a table halfway down the aisle. Tony joined them. “Commander Klein, Diane, it’s good to see you both.”

  “And vy is that?” asked the commander, blonde hair framing his face like a schnauzer’s muzzle.

  “Because I keep expecting a bullet in my head every time I take a step. General Thomas ain’t no fool.”

  “That’s exactly what he is,” said Diane, “and he’s going to die.”

  Commander Klein reached sideways and patted Diane’s hand on the table. “Such fire for a tiny fraulein, but revenge is a wide arrow that often misses ze target, ja?”

  Diane ignored him and turned to Tony, almost frothing at the mouth. “How can you stand to be around that monster?”

  Tony sighed. Diane was operating on rage, and rage didn’t appreciate reason. “I understand what General Wickstaff meant to you – meant to a lot of people – but if I go against Thomas, he’ll have me shot. I want to see him punished for what he did, believe me, but we need to be smart about it. Whether we like it or not, he’s the only leader Portsmouth has right now. Lives depend on him. Last thing we want is a power vacuum.”

  “He’s a murderer and a tyrant, and the longer he stays in charge, the harder it’ll be to get rid of him. If we act now, thousands will support us.”

  Tony nodded. “And thousands won’t.”

  “It vud mean war,” said Klein. “Thousands would support your crusade, Diane, ja, but General Thomas arrived with loyal men. The killing would be many. Whoever survives vud be at ze demon’s mercy. I am sorry, Diane, but Tony is correct. General Thomas needs to remain in charge until he can be peacefully removed.”

  “And when the hell will that be?”

  “As soon as we ready his replacement, ja?”

  Diane nodded petulantly across the table. “Tony, you should lead Portsmouth. Thomas’s men respect you, and so will everyone else once we reveal the truth about Wickstaff. You’re the only choice.”

  Tony pushed himself back from the table and shook his head. “General Thomas already suspects me. If I make overtures towards power, he’ll realise it right away. Supplanting him is going to take timing and finesse, neither of which I have. I’m heading out of Portsmouth tomorrow morning.”

  Commander Klein leaned back against the bench cushion and gasped theatrically. “Heavens, vy?”

  “To go find this Mass character that everyone in Portsmouth seems to regard so highly. He’s been away for more than a week, so Thomas has ordered me to go and find him.”

  Diane rolled her eyes. “He’s hoping you’ll die out there.”

  Tony wished he could disagree. “My orders are to execute Mass and his men as soon as I find him. My death’ll probably come soon after. Two birds, one stone.”

  Diane rose from her seat, fists clenched. “Your orders are to do what?”

  “To kill Mass.”

  Klein eased Diane back down onto the bench and told her to calm herself. Then he stared at Tony beneath his thin blonde eyebrows. “I assume you vill disobey zis order to kill Mass?”

  “Of course. I’m not in the business of murdering local heroes.”

  “Vy does Thomas consider Mass a threat?”

  Diane answered the question. “Because he’s a badass, and when he finds out about Wickstaff, he’ll come at Thomas like a force of nature. I can’t wait to see it.”

  Tony nodded. Diane was exactly right. “Thomas has heard the same things we all have about Mass. That he and his Urban Vampires are the best of the best. A dozen of them are currently furloughed in Portsmouth. I’m going to ask them to come join me on the road. If we find Mass, they can take him north to meet up with Maddy. The only problem will be the men Thomas selects to go with me. They’re not going to like the change of plan.”

  Diane was wringing her hands on the table, clearly unhappy and still operating in rage-mode. Her words came out like poison. “I still don’t hear anything that ends with General Thomas choking on his own blood.”

  “Survival is our mission,” said Klein. “Portsmouth needs to stand ready against ze remaining demon forces, but we three also need to think about our own skins, ja? Diane, see me now when I tell you zat I was fond of General Wickstaff. She demanded nothing of men but bravery and compassion. Zis General Thomas is a man who lacks faith in anything but himself, and I have no time for arrogant men. Their actions stain our history books.”

  Tony let his head tilt back and closed his eyes. It was only late afternoon, but he was exhausted. Every night for a week he had lain awake, anxious that his door was going to be kicked in by military police or – even worse – hitmen. He lowered his gaze and sighed. “I used to dream of having a wife and children, of opening a little corner shop in some sleepy village where everyone knows each other. Now all I want to do is to lie down in the middle of an empty field and stare up at the sky without fear of being torn apart by monsters. I want a moment’s peace before I die. That’s all.”

  Klein nodded. “I vud like to see my home again. I spent my life at sea, expecting to return in old age. Now my final years have arrived and I find myself further away zan ever.”

  Tony glanced at Diane. He wanted to help the girl see past her rage. “What about you, Diane? What do you wish for?”

  She seemed surprised by the question, and her eyes flickered with sadness. She opened her mouth to speak but then changed her mind. Without uttering a single word, she stood from the table and exited the carriage.

  Klein raised his eyebrows. “Zat girl frightens me more zan a leaking hatch at ze bottom of the sea.”

  “She’s angry,” said Tony. “I don’t blame her. Wickstaff was a saviour to a lot of people. Now that she’s dead, she’s become a martyr.”

  “A dangerous zing.”

  “Keep an eye on her, Klein. While I’m gone, I mean.”

  The German officer chuckled. “I keep an eye on everything, Tony, don’t you know? Take care on your trip. I enjoy your company.”

  Tony stood and offered a handshake. “I’ll send you a postcard.”

  “Auf wiedersehen, Colonel. I hope you return in good health.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  Mass spat blood on the floorboards, awaiting his death – a death that had been hounding him for a week now, a death that would not stop chasing him. He knew the moment it had all gone wrong. It had been one week ago. He’d been huddled in the rear of an overturned coach with Addy, Tox, Smithy, and a dozen screaming women – chattel rescued from a monster named Naseem hours earlier.

  They’d have been better off if I’d left them at the farm. Some hero I turned out to be.


  I never wanted to be a hero.

  Back then in the coach, Mass had searched desperately for his handgun, which had fallen under the seats, but try as he might, he could not find the damn thing. Only Smithy had a weapon – but there was no way to fire it inside their cramped confines without deafening themselves.

  Demons surrounded the upturned coach, their crooked faces pressed against the cracked windows, their shadows melting into the nearby undergrowth. The coach was a henhouse surrounded by foxes, and Mass and his companions were the hens.

  “What’s the plan, big man?” Smithy managed to sound unconcerned by their imminent deaths. Unflappability was his Smithy skill, even with a massive gash bleeding on his forehead. “You have a plan, right? A good one I’ll bet. Come on, tell us how you’re gonna save the day. Please?”

  “I don’t have a plan. We need to get the women out of here.”

  “Too right,” said Tox, covering his ears to drown out their screaming. “They’re driving me insane.”

  “They’re afraid,” said Addy, pushing against one of the windows that was starting to crack. “Who can blame them?”

  Smithy threw down his hunting rifle, knowing it was of no use, then rummaged beneath the seats and around the window ledges.

  Tox grunted. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for a solution. My mum always told me that the worst thing you can do in a crisis is nothing.”

  Tox sighed, but his displeasure went ignored. Addy joined Smithy in his search, getting down on her belly and looking under the seats for something to help. There was little chance of an apache helicopter appearing and blasting them a way out, but maybe they could find something.

  The first thing Mass spotted was a handheld fire extinguisher mounted against the coach’s fire escape. He grabbed the small red canister in both hands and examined it. “We have a chance,” he muttered, not fully knowing his own thoughts until the words were out of his mouth. “Smithy, get the door.”

  Smithy frowned but did as asked. He stood by the fire escape and wrapped his fingers around the handle. Addy seemed on board with whatever they were about to do as well. She had known Mass long enough to trust him. “I’ll gather the women,” she said.

  Tox stopped grumbling and asked what he could do too.

  “You can jump out when I do,” said Mass. “Shove any demons aside long enough for the women to make it onto the road.”

  “That’s suicide! The demons’ll tear us to shreds.”

  “Not if they can’t see us. Okay, Smithy, after three. One… two… three!”

  Smithy shouldered open the fire escape. It opened diagonally, hinges twisted and bent. Demons immediately tried to get inside, but Mass threw his colossal bulk through the gap and collided with them. He took them by surprise and bought himself enough time to plant his feet in the uneven ditch and quickly pull the tab on the handheld fire extinguisher. He squeezed the handle. Part of him feared a harmless jet of water coming out, but it was exactly what he had hoped for – a thick cloud of white smoke. “Move, move, move!” he shouted as bodies shoved by him. The women whimpered and screamed, but they knew this was life and death. They had no choice but to make a run for it.

  Tox appeared beside Mass, planting a boot in the centre of a small demon’s chest and sending it backwards into the weeds. Meanwhile, Mass sprayed the smoky powder into the air, aiming for eyes and snarling mouths. The demons spluttered like sickly children.

  Tox shoved aside another demon, this one half-blind and clawing at its own eyes. He pointed to the women halfway up the embankment and about to make it to the road. Addy was right behind them. “It’s working,” he said. “They’re getting away.”

  Mass threw out a hand and waved. “Smithy, go with the women. Get them out of here.”

  But Smithy ignored him. He bent to pick something up and swung his arm, bringing down a fist-sized rock on the back of the half-blind demon’s skull. It cracked open like an egg. Smithy hissed through his teeth. “Jesus, did you see its head go?”

  Mass pivoted and sprayed a pair of burnt men reaching out for him. Tox placed a hand on his shoulder, using him for balance, and kicked at a third. Miraculously, they managed to gain enough space to make it up the hill.

  The three men fought their way up the clumpy, uneven slope while the demons stumbled around in the ditch below. Before long, they had made it to the road. They were all hurting from the coach crash, covered in bruises and cuts.

  The women huddled together like sheep while Addy circled them like a border collie. When she saw Mass, she nodded.

  Good work.

  They had made it out of their coffin in the ditch, but the demons were quickly recovering. Whatever powder had come out the fire extinguisher was unfortunately harmless.

  Mass clenched his fists. Pity it wasn’t full of acid.

  Smithy searched around. “Now what?”

  “We make a run for it,” said Tox. “It’s the only chance we have.”

  Mass shook his head. “We’re hurting, and the women will slow us down even more. The demons will hound us until we drop.”

  “But we can’t fight them,” said Smithy, still holding his gore-encrusted rock. “Caveman kung fu will only get us so far.”

  Mass reached to his belt and pulled out a heavy knife he’d taken from the body of a dead soldier he’d found slumped on the stairs of a supermarket’s escalator. “If we rely on guns to save us every time, what’re we gonna do when the bullets run out?”

  “They already have,” said Tox, pulling out his own knife.

  Addy grabbed hers next, a machete longer than the others.

  Smithy peered down at the bloody rock in his hand. “This is gonna suck.”

  The demons climbed the hill, using their claws as anchors in the mud. Some were still disorientated from the powder, but others growled like hungry wolves.

  Mass rotated his wrist, getting a feel for the weighty combat knife in his hand. “Addy, get the women back.”

  “No way! I’m in this fight too.”

  “Move them back and come join us.”

  Addy corralled the women to the far side of the road. They were a burden, unable to focus on anything besides their own fear. Addy, though, was a woman as tough as any man – probably more so. Would she have turned out differently if she’d spent the last year at Nas’s farm instead of becoming an Urban Vampire? Was there any hope for the women they’d rescued?

  Addy rejoined them in the centre of the road, machete at the ready. “Let’s get to work.”

  They lined up, shoulder to shoulder, as Smithy shouted, “Sparta!”

  Addy rolled her eyes. “You’re such a pain in the arse.”

  To perhaps dispel the notion, Smithy was the first to attack, lunging in with his rock and braining a burnt man in a ragged yellow T-shirt. It acted as a starting pistol, and Addy, Tox, and Mass joined the fray, slashing with their knives and throwing punches against mottled demon flesh. Their enemies bled, but nothing short of death would deter them from attempting to fall upon their prey and trap it in an unholy embrace.

  Mass grabbed a burnt man around the neck with one hand so he could plunge his knife into its eye socket with the other, but when more demons came up the embankment, his courage suddenly wavered. After so long fighting, he was rapidly reaching a point of mental and physical exhaustion. The effort of lifting his fists was becoming too much. Even so, he managed to swipe his knife and slice open a demon’s face. It wasn’t a killing blow, but it crippled the monster’s eyes and sent it away blind.

  “There’re too many,” said Tox, clutching his ribs. “We can’t take them all.”

  “We have no choice,” said Mass. “We’re in no fit state to run.”

  “We’re in no fit state to take on a dozen demons with three knives and eight fists.”

  “Don’t forget my rock,” said Smithy, bashing it against the skull of another demon. “And there’s one less now.”

  Addy gritted her teeth and slashed her kn
ife. “No more talking. If we live, we’ll have a story to tell our grandkids.”

  Smithy chuckled. “That’s some wishful thinking, Addy.”

  “Better than complaining.” She side-eyed Tox and then threw herself forward in a scissor kick that caught a child-sized demon right in the face. She landed awkwardly, left ankle twisting and causing her to stumble right into a demon’s grasp. She cried out as its decaying jaws clamped around her forearm and her machete fell from her grasp.

  “Addy!” Tox buried his own blade so deeply in a nearby demon’s temple that it wouldn’t come out again, so he shoved the dead monster aside and abandoned the weapon. Unarmed, he threw himself in Addy’s direction, grabbing at the demon that was trying to eat her arm. That left Smithy and Mass outnumbered as three demons attacked the two of them.

  Smithy didn’t have a knife, so Mass stepped up and tried to take the demons out by himself. He buried his knife in a burnt woman’s throat and twisted. Chunks of dried blood erupted and spattered his face. A piece went in his eye and affected his vision. The other two demons grabbed him, their weight bearing down from either side. He pushed back with his forearms, trying to keep from being bitten, but they overwhelmed him. Smithy attempted to peel the demons away, but one of them swung around and smashed him in the face with a bony arm. Smithy hit the dirt.

  Mass tried to retreat, but his legs twisted and he went down, both demons landing on top of him. He cried out as piercing needles tore into his trapezius muscle, and the pain travelled right up the back of his neck. He tried to shove the demon away, but his arms were pinned. Rotten teeth sank deeper and deeper, extracting a bellowing scream from his lungs. This was it. His death had arrived.

  I didn’t want to die screaming. I didn’t want to die lying on my back like this.

  Smithy grunted, engaged in a battle of his own as he staggered to his feet. Tox and Addy were somewhere out of sight, maybe even dead. Mass couldn’t give up, though, even if it was useless to try. He was a fighter, and that was how he would go out. He whipped his head up and managed to headbutt the demon biting into his shoulder. It wasn’t enough to dislodge it, but it shifted its weight enough for him to free his arm, which he then used to finally shove the demon away. Able to move again, Mass rolled onto his side and leapt up, but another demon tackled him and knocked him right back down. This time he ended up face down – totally defenceless as demons fell on top of him. “You better hope I don’t meet your ugly asses in Hell,” he grunted, face pressed against the road.