She was going to blow his cover and take him down with her. Tony could feel the words queued up and ready to spill forth from her mouth. Diane thought he had killed her friend and sided with Thomas, even though the complete opposite was true. There was no way to tell her that though. Not without dooming himself to die alongside her.
Diane’s hand began to shake, the gun at Thomas’s temple trembling. “You were supposed to help Mass, not kill him. Why, Tony? After you helped Mad—”
“Diane, stop! Stand down now and I’m sure General Thomas will go easy on you.” Tony took a step forward with his hands up. His rifle was hanging by his hip. His sidearm was holstered at his belt.
General Thomas gave no indication either way.
“He won’t be doing anything for anyone once he’s dead. I just wanted him to know it was me who pulled the trigger.”
Tony took another step. “You shoot Thomas and I shoot you. There’s no way out for you unless you give up.”
“I already gave up. This is me giving up.”
She was about to pull the trigger. Tony could sense her finger tightening. “Diane. Diane, don’t do this. Mass isn’t dead, okay? I didn’t kill him.”
She turned to him in utter confusion. Her mouth fell open but no words came out.
This was his chance.
Tony yanked his 9mm from its holster and barrelled into Diane, knocking her handgun aside so that it discharged harmlessly into the air. Tony pulled the trigger twice, burying two point-blank rounds into Diane’s guts and holding onto her as she fell. She let out an oomph like she’d been winded, and her eyes flicked back and forth. As they hit the ground, Tony’s face hovered right above hers. She was dying, but it’d been inevitable since the moment she’d pulled a gun on Thomas. Tony had kept her from accomplishing her dying wish, but if he hadn’t stopped her, she would have doomed them both. At least this way he was still in the game
I killed her to save myself.
Because I have work left to do.
Even though Tony could rationalise his actions, he still felt like the bad guy. He leant forwards, moving his mouth next to Diane’s ear. He could feel her bleeding out against his hip as he whispered to her. “Mass is alive, I swear to you. He’s alive and so is Maddy.” A raspy moan escaped her lips, and he wondered if she was trying to talk. He lifted his head and looked her in the eyes, still keeping his voice low enough so that only she could hear. “I’ll give General Thomas your regards when I kill him.”
Diane smiled, then closed her eyes. Another good woman dead. The last of Wickstaff’s friends gone.
Tony climbed up off Diane’s body, feeling a million years old. Her blood soaked his clothes, and its warm kiss seared him with guilt. He had taken away the dignity of her death, so now it was Tony’s duty to give it some meaning. Thomas had to die. Tony owed it to her.
Thomas grabbed Tony and turned him around. The general was furious. “Mass,” he said, raising a handgun of his own. “You didn’t kill him? I think you’d better start explaining, Tony, and it better be good.”
10
Tony was still holding his handgun, the muzzle smeared with Diane’s blood. He put his index finger through the trigger guard and let the gun dangle harmlessly. He raised both hands. “I was lying, sir. I needed to give her pause for thought so I could get the jump on her. As you can see, the plan worked.”
“I’ve known you a while, Tony, and you’ve never been one to act quite so ruthlessly.”
“With all due respect, sir, I’ve just spent several days on the road, hunting down a local legend more likely to kill me than I was him, all because my superior officer wanted me out of the way because he doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t trust me despite my having never done anything but follow his goddamn orders. I’m not in the mood for mercy, General, but if you’re dead set on executing me for whatever trumped-up accusation you want to level at me” – he stepped forward and glared right in the old man’s face – “then go right ahead. Either that, or fucking thank me for saving your life.”
Thomas was even more stunned than when Diane had put a gun to his head. Both of his eyes opened so wide it looked like they might fall out and land on his boots. His ruddy cheeks suggested anger, but the creases at the corner of his mouth slowly increased until he was smiling. “Well, I suppose if you can be honest enough to speak your mind like that, you’re honest enough to trust. You have my apologies, Tony. Perhaps I was wrong to doubt you. Thank you for your loyalty.”
Tony sighed. His words had been half gamble, half frustration, but he had decided that the only way to convince Thomas was by telling as much of the truth as he could. For a split second, he’d been too tired to give a shit.
But it had paid off.
Whether or not Thomas liked it, Tony had saved his life, and while he might never trust him completely, a new grace period had just begun.
Tony re-holstered his handgun. “Sir, I just want to kill demons. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. When you made me a colonel, things got more complicated than I cared for.”
Thomas stared at Livingstone’s still-bleeding corpse. “I would offer you a demotion, but I’m afraid I’m running low on officers. Perhaps we can discuss the matter later. What you said about a demon army, it’s true?”
“Yes, sir. Until we know what’s coming, we would be far better off behind Portsmouth’s walls.”
Thomas thought for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, give me an hour. I need to consider our options.”
“What’s to consider? We need to fall back, sir.”
“Colonel Cross, I have assembled most of Portsmouth’s fighters and promised them a march to victory. Do you know how much morale would plummet if I ordered a retreat before we’ve even met the enemy?”
“But, sir, I—”
Thomas put a hand up and halted him. “I’ll compromise, okay. Give me thirty minutes. Perhaps I’ll send out some scouts in the meantime.”
Tony sighed. Thomas had taken the threat seriously at least. He might order the retreat if left alone, but if badgered, the stubborn old bastard would definitely push onward. Tony had to accept the half-victory. “Okay, sir, I understand you need to think this through, but I strongly advise a full retreat.”
Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but screaming erupted at the army’s outer fringes. Gunfire responded, but not the pop-pop of a lone demon or two being dealt with. It was the ceaseless staccato of war.
Tony raised his rifle and cursed. “Your thirty minutes just ran out, sir. Your orders?”
Thomas ran a hand through his short grey hair and growled. “Colonel Cross, kindly find out what we’re dealing with, and then do whatever you need to obliterate it.”
Tony couldn’t help but smile. At least for now, life was about to get simple. He threw up a salute to the man he hated and took off in a sprint. Dendoncker and the other men followed, their loyalty now earned.
I was right. They are good men.
They found trouble at the army’s left flank. A horde of demons was funnelling down a junction where the M27 joined the M3. The army had been heading north, but it seemed like they weren’t even going to make it as far as Winchester without a fight.
Tony took a knee and fired. It was too hard to tell if he was hitting anything – he was merely firing into a crowd – but many demons fell as the army unleashed on the incoming horde. As much as the demons had come out of nowhere, this was an army prepared. They survived the first wave with zero casualties, while dozens of demons lay dead on the sloped road. As always, though, more arrived to replace them. Burnt men staggered along, five deep in places. Primates bounded excitedly even as bullets tore into their skin.
“If they ever stopped to think,” said Dendoncker, kneeling beside Tony, “they would’ve leapt out of the bushes further down and ambushed us, not race down an open road like this where we can see them.”
“Thinking ain’t their thing,” said Tony, “luckily for us. Keep the pressure on, lads. Hopefully, they’ll run o
ut of bodies before we run out of bullets.”
A grenade exploded near the top of the junction, scattering demons left and right. In the Middle East, they had used so many of them that they had been forced to unearth stockpiles of old L2A2s, mothballed at the turn of the millennium. To see a grenade exploding today was a surprise, and Tony assumed some cheeky bugger had smuggled it across the channel. Pity more hadn’t done the same.
The demons kept coming, and the army formed a wall of continuous fire, picking its shots and making them count. The fighting was far from over, but so far it was going in mankind’s favour. Thomas arrived in the thick of it, grimly satisfied. “We’ll have the buggers dead by supper. You see, men, this is what I was talking about. The demons are no match for us.”
Tony peered down his riflescope with a grimace. He saw no reason to be confident, and he couldn’t help picturing the massive beast that was heading in their direction. Where was it now? How near?
Thomas stood with his hands on his hips, peering at the demon-littered junction as if it were a verdant meadow. “We’ll warm ourselves beside the fires of victory tonight.”
“We need to fall back as soon as we can,” warned Tony. “Whatever’s coming is worse than this. We don’t want to face it head-on.”
“Colonel, we cannot retreat, we must push forward. Look at what you’re seeing. Hundreds of dead demons and not one of our own. I promised these men a slaughter, and that’s exactly what I’ve given them. Great Britain rises from the ashes!”
Tony stopped firing. The demons were still coming down the road, but their numbers were starting to thin out. The army must have fired a thousand rounds to kill a few hundred demons. A rapid, relentless massacre, but at such a quick pace they would be throwing rocks before long. “General Thomas, with all due respect, we can’t afford to be brazen. There’s an army heading our way, and I can’t say how big, or how vicious, it will be. We need to get our forces back to Portsmouth where we can bed in. This will still be a victory. We can still bask in glory. Sir, I insist.”
Thomas glared. “You insist? You forget, Colonel Cross, that my trust in you is already on shaky ground. I appreciate your concerns, but I intend to face our enemy as promised and wipe it from the face of the Earth once and for all. I can’t do that by retreating.”
“You don’t know what’s coming.”
“A giant demon? We felled half a dozen of them in the Middle East. Without their gates, they bleed like anything else.” Tony went to argue again, but Thomas didn’t allow it. “Enough! This army is moving onward to Winchester, where it will make the first of many nightly camps. If it makes you feel any better, Colonel, you can arrange our defences while we rest.”
Tony ground his teeth.
No, it doesn’t make me feel better. We’re heading right into the jaws of the beast.
The demons stopped coming after half an hour. Tony shot one of the last, a redheaded dead man wearing a white work shirt and red tie. He wondered if demons emerged from the gates with the clothes they died in. That would explain why they ran such a gamut of fire-damaged fashion. In the last year, Tony had seen floral-print summer dresses alongside World War One uniforms and nurse’s outfits. One time, he had even spotted a demon in a toga. Hell was a seemingly timeless place where tortured souls from every point in history could suffer together as one. Would Tony end up there himself one day? He decided that, yes, he would, and that the day might well be at hand.
Dendoncker acted as Tony’s sergeant, ordering men into formation and keeping them moving. He was glad to have the young soldier by his side, and already relied upon and trusted him, which was insane considering he had been planning to murder Tony only the previous evening. War moved relationships along fast. There’d been men he’d served with in Afghanistan he had called brother after a matter of months. If someone fought alongside you, facing down death, you grew to love them pretty fast.
“We’re about to enter Winchester,” said Dendoncker. “I’ve never been. Is it nice?”
“Not any more. It’s a body-strewn ruin like everywhere else.”
“I heard the Urban Vampires reclaimed it.” Dendoncker spoke of them reverently, possibly still in awe of the ruse Mass and his men had pulled off last night. The Urban Vampires had indeed cleared Winchester out, and the main road was open, all wrecks and debris amassed at the kerbs. Piles of burnt bodies punctuated every quarter-mile or so, and blood stained the pavements. The air was stale rather than repugnant.
Tony looked left and right as they neared what looked like a picturesque high street. The road had been constructed using stone paving slabs, while three-storey Edwardian terraces created a corridor of shops and eateries. Every front window had been smashed in, an echo of early looting or later Urban Vampire supply runs. It made seeing inside the buildings easier, reducing the threat of hidden demons. That safety, however, made Tony tense. It felt like the eye of a storm. They had left a battle behind them, but there was almost certainly another one ahead.
The army spread out as orders from Thomas were communicated. Orders were given to set up camp in a nearby park, scavenging, if possible, from nearby buildings for provisions. Regular patrols would secure a perimeter, and several scouting parties would go on ahead to set up in the town’s north. Their flares would act as an early warning if the enemy came. Tony possessed a marginal amount of hope that when Thomas saw what they were up against he would force a retreat. The only question would be how much the man’s thirst for victory could trump reason. Thomas was determined to go down in the history books as a hero of the new world. Not content with being a Field Marshal Montgomery, he wanted to be the next Winston Churchill.
Forget that. He wants to be the next Alfred the Great, driving the unwashed beasts from our shores. Vainglorious fool.
Tony spotted a derelict bakery chain store he had used to love, and he set his men up inside. “Dendoncker, I’ll leave you to call the shots. Most of the army will make camp in the park, but I prefer walls and a roof. When the fighting starts, get your arses in gear, pronto, but keep your heads down otherwise. An enemy attack always begins with some poor sod at the edge of camp getting taken out with his knob out. Don’t let that be any of you.”
Dendoncker nodded. The men got to work. They still had their camping supplies from their earlier mission, and it wasn’t long before they had some tuck heating over a pair of portable stoves. Tony ate a mouthful of baked beans and then left them to it.
He had to hand it to Thomas, the general had performed an impressive feat organising such a force, and there were plenty of Wickstaff’s people camped out too, showing he’d got a majority of Portsmouth on his side. He was a consummate politician, but that was a problem. Politicians had a habit of sending men to their deaths. Back in the Middle East, Thomas had been reined in by the fact he had needed to work with several other leaders. Before that, he had answered to the UK’s war council. Now he answered to nothing but his own ego. He was a successful general with no reason to doubt himself.
But Tony was fearful.
He feared for the thousands of innocent people all around him, setting up in the streets and parklands for a night’s sleep that would likely end with torn-open guts and half-eaten necks. Tony wanted to scream and shout for everybody to run and hide, to get themselves back to Portsmouth, but it would be useless. Even if people listened, Thomas would have Tony arrested and shot for insubordination. The only way out of this was to remove Thomas as the man in charge. Then, whether Tony liked the idea or not, he would have to take charge.
“It’s time for you to go, old man.”
Tony went to find Thomas, deciding he would act as soon as the opportunity arose.
Mass and his team waited until dusk before scaling a wall on the southern area of Portsmouth’s docklands. At first he had considered doing what Tony had told him to do -- to head north and find safety – but that wasn’t who he was. This was his city. He had fought for it. He wasn’t going to tuck his tail between his legs and r
un. And so here he was, back in Portsmouth.
The civilian area comprised closely built warehouses and offices, which made it easy to slink in undetected. It was a concern, seeing as demons would likely get in just as effortlessly, but there were many guard stations and walls further north that would, at the very least, impede their progress any further.
“So, you really were telling the truth,” said Smithy, looking around in awe. “Portsmouth’s real.”
Tox put a finger on his lips and warned Smithy to keep his voice down. “You doubted us? Why would we lie?”
“You had to keep a carrot on the stick or I might have done a runner. It would’ve broken your heart to see me leave.”
Addy rolled her eyes. “Wasn’t keeping you alive enough of an incentive?”
Mass waved his hand to get their attention. “Come on. Let’s check the lie of the land.”
An old fisherman stood on the docks, attaching bait to his hook. Mass vaguely recognised him, which meant the man had been in the city since before Thomas arrived. It still baffled Mass that an entire army had appeared during his absence, but the multiple strangers he’d already spotted while sneaking inside the city confirmed it. At least this old man was part of the Portsmouth he knew.
Mass didn’t want to startle the fisherman, so he straightened up and removed his hood before approaching. The old guy noticed him and waved. “Good to see you back in Portsmouth, sir.”
“You know me?”
“Everyone knows you. The mighty Mass.”
Mass frowned, not liking that nickname one bit. “Looks like things have changed while I’ve been away. There’s a new sheriff in town.”
The fisherman nodded. “General Thomas took over after we lost Wickstaff. You know about her death, I take it? Bloody demons.”
“Yeah, demons. So where can I find this new general? I should introduce myself.”
Hell On Earth Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 153
