“Piss off, yow bastards. I’ll ’ave every one of yow. Soddin’ Villa supporters!”
Ted searched for the voice and couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw Frank still alive. His diminutive friend was holding a wooden shield that had once hung on the wall of the Great Hall. It was almost as big as Frank, which made it difficult for the demons to get at him behind it. Ted’s weary mind conjured images of a gull trying to murder a hairy crab and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.
Ted had been about to give up, but seeing his friend in peril gave him one last energy boost. He swung his hammer and took out two more demons, their skulls knocking together like conkers, but as he attempted to replant his footing, a primate slashed at his arm. White-hot pain erupted from his elbow to his wrist, and when he looked down he saw his own blood. The primate pounced. Ted brought his hammer around and crushed its sinewy thigh. Several more demons stood between him and Frank, but it didn’t matter. Ted kept his hammer moving, even as his shoulders turned to lead.
Frank saw Ted coming for him, and for a horrifying moment it looked like he might leave the safety of his shield and wave. Fortunately, a burnt man collided with the wood and reminded him to stay in safety.
Ted took out another demon and was suddenly standing next to Frank. He swung his hammer at the burnt man attacking the shield and then announced, “It’s time to leave, Frank.”
Frank grunted from beneath his shield. “How yow doing, mucker? I’ve had better days to be honest.”
“After three, you’re going to run towards that gate as fast as your little legs can take you.”
“Hey, less of that!”
Ted gave his friend a smile and started counting. “One…”
“Ted, what are you doing?”
“Two…”
“Ted, get out of here. I’ll just slow you—”
“Three! Run, goddamn it!”
“Jesus Christ!” Frank bolted like a jackrabbit, letting go of the shield and almost being crushed by it. The burnt man lunged for him and went a pisser, landing on its face. Ted kicked it in the head and swung his hammer at another that was approaching. There were demons everywhere now. Ted had done all he could. He glanced back to check on Frank and saw him waddling for his life. Tosco and the American soldiers saw him coming and fought to clear a path.
Ted considered making a run for safety himself, but too many demons had got around behind him now. Even if he fought, it would only delay the others from leaving. He couldn’t risk them being killed while they waited for him to reach them.
Maddy called out to Ted, but Ted turned his back and braced himself to absorb the impact as a pair of burnt men crashed into him. His hammer fell from his grasp, so he headbutted the first and kneed the second. A primate grabbed Ted’s shoulder and sliced his flesh. Another slashed his thigh.
He fell to one knee, no more fight left in him.
Time’s up.
“Pater Noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum.”
Ted turned his head and saw Angela gliding towards him. She parted the throngs of demons as if they were mere fronds on a palm tree. Her eyes were still rolled back in her head, yet she seemed to see Ted clearly. She placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly reassurance.
I’m not alone.
The demons surrounding Ted exploded. He had to shield his eyes from the ludicrous amount of gibs raining down on him. He didn’t want to interrupt the woman’s flow, so he didn’t say anything to distract her. He just grabbed Angela’s arm and started pulling her in the direction of the gate. Maybe there was still a chance for both of them to get out of there.
But the gate was gone.
No!
Demons swarmed the area where Damien and the others had been standing, making it clear that they’d had no choice but to leave. No choice but to leave Ted and Angela behind.
They were going to die here.
Angela’s chanting continued and more demons exploded. As soon as any got close, they erupted like fireworks. She was a one-woman army. An exorcist during a demon invasion.
Ted was in love.
Angela and Ted huddled together, demons failing to get anywhere near them. Angela spoke in tongues, words issuing like a mad rap. She showed no signs of tiring. Maybe she could keep this up forever. Ted caught his breath, safe within the invisible forcefield Angela had somehow put in place. Nothing could touch them.
But then Angela’s words were interrupted.
A chunk of masonry struck her in the centre of her chest and knocked her backwards. She landed in the blood-slick grass, unconscious or dead. Ted tried to reach her, to help her, but a giant hand engulfed him and plucked him from the earth. He felt massive pressure restricting his chest and suddenly couldn’t breathe. His eyes bulged.
Lord Amon lifted Ted twenty feet above the ground and glared at him with an expression of undeniable hatred. Ted spat, but there was too much distance to hit the monster’s face, so he resorted to swearing. “You sorry sack of shit.”
The angel roared, buffeting Ted’s face with hot, putrid air. He turned his head to protect his eyes and caught a glimpse of Angela down below. She was alive and dragging herself along the ground. The demons would finish her soon.
Ted was the last man standing at Kielder. It felt right somehow. A captain going down with his ship. The pressure in his chest increased. Lord Amon must have been enjoying the sight of his life slowly leaving him, but he wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing him scared. He looked up into the sky, wanting to see that beautiful tangelo sky one last time before he died.
What he saw was beyond words.
Four blackbirds fell from the sky – mortar shells plummeting towards the castle at a hundred miles an hour. Ted cackled, and he didn’t stop for three whole seconds. Then the world became fire.
Mass headed for the walls that surrounded the well-lit military docks. Several guard towers had been erected in the last year, and vans and lorries were parked end to end in the longer sections, providing a second skin and flat roofs to fire from. In the city itself, people barricaded themselves inside old buildings or on rooftops, the entrances cluttered with whatever they had been able to find. With so much of the population having left with Thomas, the defences seemed sparsely populated. The various searchlights and campfires only highlighted the lack of manpower. Fifteen thousand people was a lot less than it sounded, especially when the number included the young, the elderly, and the incapable.
Wanstead had followed Mass outside with his guards. The colonel looked around now as officers and sergeants hurried towards him. He put a hand in the air to get everyone’s attention. “This is it, gentlemen. We are the last bastion of mankind, and our enemy is here to have at us. You have your duties, so gather your teams and hop to it.”
The officers and guards scattered, all apparently knowing what to do. At least Thomas had drilled them well. Or maybe it had been Wanstead.
Mass turned to his own team. “Smithy, you stick with me. Addy, go find out where Cullen is and tell him join back with us here. Damien, you…”
“I’ll do what I want,” said Damien.
Mass nodded. “Yeah, you do that. Okay, the rest of us, let’s get to work.”
“It sounds like we’re being attacked on all fronts,” said Wanstead, shaking his head in disgust, which was far better than despair. “No matter what we do, it’s going to spread us thin. I’ll call in the guns.”
“There are people living in the ruins,” said Mass. “We can’t risk killing them.”
Wanstead chuckled. “You’ve been away too long, Mr Mass. Thomas set up several bombardment zones. Civilians have been moved out of the areas and we used abandoned vehicles to form a funnel into those zones. If the bastards have come in force, I guarantee there’ll be hundreds of them standing right on top of our big, invisible Xs.”
Mass hadn’t considered that Thomas could have been competent, but it appeared that he was. It was a relief to hear that thought had b
een put into Portsmouth’s defences. “Okay, do it, Colonel. What are you waiting for?”
“Well, not your approval, certainly.” Wanstead produced a radio and called in the order. Then he turned back to Mass. “Now we wait.”
It took about fifteen seconds, but it felt longer, as Mass stood silently watching the sky. All the while, gunfire lit up the dark pockets of Portsmouth. The twin streaks that eventually cut a path through the stars were beautiful, more so because of the colossal destruction they brought with them. The resulting whoosh of air reached them a full second before a flash of fire lit up the distance. The inferno grew, lighting up the whole of Portsmouth. For a brief moment it was daylight, and Mass saw the frightened soldiers on the battlements, all waging their own private wars.
“I’m going to go get involved,” said Damien. “I’ll catch you guys later.”
Smithy lifted his shotgun and was unable to keep it from shaking. He looked at Mass. “What’s the plan, boss?”
“I haven’t seen you afraid before, Smithy. You good?”
“It just hits you, don’t it? One minute you’re coping, and then the next it’s all just too much. I’ve got this feeling like I’m… like I’m looking down on myself, and I’m like… fuck, it’s the end of the world and I’m about to go to war with demons. How do you wrap your head around that?”
Mass put a hand on the lad’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “By sticking close to your mates and remembering we’re all in this together. I’ve got your back, Smithy. All right?”
Wanstead cleared his throat. “You are fine men, and I’m grateful to have your assistance. I trust you’ll direct your people wherever they are needed, Mr Mass.”
Mass cricked his neck and took a step towards Wanstead. “You and me have issues left to discuss, but first we need to survive. We’re on the same team for now, and I’ll be doing whatever I can to keep Portsmouth standing. You make sure you do the same, Colonel.”
Wanstead nodded, showing neither fear nor offence. “Until later then, Mr Mass. Good luck. Truly.”
The colonel took off, barking orders into his radio. Mass grabbed Smithy and pulled him towards the walls. Together, the two of them raced over to a tatty white Transit van and climbed up on top of it, and then onto the wooden pallets piled on top. Peering over the walls was disheartening. Thousands of demons teemed throughout the ruins surrounding the docks. They leapt over abandoned vehicles and emerged from dark alleyways. Men and woman fired from the upper windows of several buildings, inflicting massive casualties. More explosions lit up the distance. It was like the storming of the beaches in World War Two, thought Mass, except they were the Germans and the demons didn’t care about losses. There was no way to damage the enemy’s morale. They would just keep coming.
And the Germans always lose.
The fighting was too far away for Mass’s and Smithy’s shotguns to have much of an effect, so the two of them just stood and watched for now, biding their time. So far, Portsmouth had the best of the fighting. Machine-gun fire rattled off across the city and rifles cracked in their hundreds. Demons screeched and wailed in agony. Already their bodies littered the rubble. What concerned Mass was the darkness beyond the docklands where the searchlights faded and night took over. What existed there, beyond what they could see? Another thousand demons? Another ten thousand? A million? And what of Crimolok? Where was the ancient beast responsible for every single death during the last year? Was it watching Portsmouth fall? Or was it coming to crush it with its own hand?
“Hey,” said Smithy, pointing, “is that Rick? I was wondering where’s he’s been.”
Mass looked towards the nearby ruins. There, Rick strolled casually towards the demons. He raised his hands and threw out a bolt of pure white light, striking the centre of a car park a hundred metres away and obliterating a dozen demons. The few parked cars almost tipped over from the blast, before dropping back down and bouncing on their suspensions.
“Not bad,” said Mass. “Wonder how long he can keep that up for. Do angels get tired?”
Smithy frowned at him. “You really think he’s an angel? Then why is he alone? Why didn’t God send a shitload of them to help us out?”
“Politics,” said Mass. “I never understood it before and I don’t understand it now.”
“I hear that.”
They watched while Rick continued his onslaught, throwing out bolts of light and sending pieces of demons up into the air. The rifle fire was endless, a constant drone, and the larger guns shook the earth. Demonic screeching howled throughout the city, and a biting wind billowed against the buildings and the people.
This truly is the end of the world.
A primate leapt out of a nearby alleyway within shooting distance. Mass felt a jolt of adrenaline and called out, “Mine!” He aimed his shotgun, pulled the trigger, and the primate flew back into the alley with a screech. It re-emerged a moment later, peppered bloody but still able to move.
“Let me finish the job.” Smithy shoved Mass’s shotgun away and lifted his own. He aimed, fired, and the primate’s skull splattered the wall behind it.
Mass huffed. “I weakened it first.”
“This ain’t a jar of pickles, dude. I just owned your ass.”
“It’s gonna be a long night. Don’t do a victory dance just yet.”
Smithy replaced the cartridge he’d just fired and shrugged. “Fair enough. It’s one–nil, then. Ready to play?”
Mass shouldered his shotgun. “Hell yes.”
13
All great leaders suffered defeats. It was taking those defeats and turning them into victories that sorted the great from the mediocre.
This is my Dunkirk. A necessary defeat.
The enemy had handed Thomas a sound defeat, but he had fallen back with a thousand of his men, ready to fight another day. Disaster was behind them now. D-Day lay ahead. Victory would come.
This isn’t the end. It’s merely the end of the beginning.
Thomas estimated that the thousand men following him through the fields, combined with the fifteen thousand remaining in Portsmouth, gave him every chance of defeating the enemy. They would stand behind the walls and repel whatever came. The only challenge would be getting these thousand men home. This land had become enemy territory.
The enemy were everywhere, all along the roads and teeming through the countryside. Thomas sought to avoid fighting whenever he could, but it was unavoidable at times. His men had used most of their ammunition pushing their way towards Portsmouth, and they had been moving at an almost constant run, knowing that the bulk of the enemy was still behind them. If they could travel quickly enough, they could make it back to Portsmouth without being cut off from safety. Scant few miles remained; they had been rushing across the landscape for the last three hours. It was possible the enemy was yet to reach Portsmouth, but the more Thomas saw demons on the road, the more he knew it was unlikely to be true.
The enemy army that had attacked Winchester was large and cumbersome. There was no way it had moved faster than Thomas and his men, which meant there was time to warn Portsmouth and prepare for war. Thomas estimated five or six hours before the bulk of the enemy’s forces reached the city. He could be there in two.
Tony was right. We should have fallen back.
Self-doubt plagued Thomas, and he kept picturing his former colonel raising a handgun and intending to shoot him in the face. Tony had been a loyal man, but he had slowly turned his back and allowed treachery to overwhelm him. Was Thomas responsible in some way for the man’s lack of honour? Had he been a poor leader, or was Tony Cross just a bad man? Regardless of the truth, Colonel Cross had warned Thomas about what was coming.
He warned me and I did nothing.
No, I fought our enemy. There is no shame in that. Defeat is a part of war, not the whole. I must ensure we continue to stand tall. We are humanity’s best. We shall survive. I shall lead us.
He knew it in his bones to be true, that this was just a t
est. Mankind had been given too easy a ride. Now it was being forced to prove its worth. After its eventual victory, it would rise again stronger than ever before. The weak and the lazy were all gone. Mankind had become a warrior race, and forever may it remain so.
Demons congregated in a field ahead, perhaps a dozen or more. Thomas gave the order to fire and his men took them down in a second. The way ahead seemed clear. Portsmouth awaited.
Victory awaited.
Crimolok trembles with power. With each human life extinguished, God’s hold on the universe weakens. The barrier protecting Him weakens. Once this place is cleansed of life, Crimolok will assault his father’s domain and take existence for himself. Lucifer, Michael, and all of the other heavenly brothers will be forced to bow to a new god. A supreme god.
I shall be all and everything.
The massacre in the human town had been glorious. Crimolok himself had killed thousands. His legions had killed thousands more. Some humans managed to flee, scattering into the fields, but it will only prolong the hunt, which is acceptable because Crimolok enjoys the hunt.
The great human city lies ahead. Soon its name will join Sodom and Gomorrah. No human will survive there. No child will ever grow up there. Mankind is at its end. The tipping point is at hand.
Crimolok watches his legions surround a group of humans hiding up in a large tree. To expedite the slaughter, he grabs the tree by its highest branches and uproots it from the earth. Humans fall from the trunk and land amongst the demons, and are forced to choke on their own blood as they are eaten alive. Some still cling to the tree, begging for life. Crimolok swings the tree and releases it, sending it a hundred feet into the air. It comes crashing down to earth in the distance, no human on it left alive.
Crimolok marches on towards Portsmouth.
Hell On Earth Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 158
