Alice was losing her mind. She got out of bed and crept outside into one of The Hatchet’s many identical steel corridors. She headed inside the breakroom and switched on the coffee machine. She’d never been allowed to drink the stuff a year ago, but since coming aboard her dead father’s US Coast Guard frigate, no one paid much attention to what she was doing. In fact, they treated her like an adult most of the time, which was one of the few things she liked about the apocalypse. Little else though.
Just when Portsmouth had started to feel like a home, just when life had found a new kind of normal, everything had gone ‘tits up’ – to borrow a phrase from the Brits. Wickstaff died and then Tosco was suddenly on the run for something she didn’t fully understand. Oh, and don’t forget they were all going to go live in some forest like a bunch of elves.
Alice had never known that you could feel so alone surrounded by people. She was trapped on a boat with a hundred sailors, barely able to move without bumping into someone, and yet she felt completely disconnected. While she knew everyone on board, they were all strangers. There wasn’t a person left alive she had known for longer than a few months. Maddy had known her longest, but even that relationship was new. The loneliness was painful, and she hated it, but she couldn’t help but think about all of her friends back home – other kids who were probably all dead. She thought about her brother, Kyle, her mom, and her dad. She thought about her dad especially. He’d sailed across the ocean to find her, only to die the moment he did. She’d watched both her brother and her dad die, and the memories would stay with her forever.
At least I never had to watch Mom die. I wonder what happened to her. Did she stay in Indiana? Did she stay at home?
Alice was used to having a big bedroom full of clothes, books, and stacks of DVDs. Now she slept in a bunk room with three other people. If it wasn’t for all the paperback books she’d brought from Portsmouth, she would have already gone insane aboard The Hatchet. As it was, she remained only mildly unstable – frustrated and bored rather than crazy.
Tosco had left with his team two days ago, the morning before last. The clock on the breakroom wall read five fifteen, which meant the sun would soon come up and start day three. They had arrived at the forest safely because Tosco had radioed in to say so, but then she had heard little else. Lieutenant Michaels was in charge of The Hatchet while Tosco was away, but Alice didn’t like the guy all that much. He seemed irritated by her presence, and seemed to be one of the few sailors who considered Alice a kid. She was fifteen, and while in the old world that might have meant she was still young, in this new world, childhood had been cancelled.
Alice sat down with her coffee and sipped at it. She heard voices from further down the corridor, possibly from one of the other bunk rooms. They were trying to whisper, but sound travelled in the bowels of the ship. Whatever they were talking about seemed important.
Maybe they’re talking about Tosco and the others.
Not like there would be anything else of interest.
Curious, Alice left her muddy coffee on the table and crept back out into the corridor. The voices were coming from the officers’ cabins at the aft of the ship. Tosco had the admiral’s suite, but there were two single-occupant cabins opposite. The voices were coming from inside one of those. She crept down the corridor until she could make out words.
“We haven’t had any contact in hours. Tosco called in a mortar strike right on top of his position.”
“What? That’s suicide!”
“I know. Apparently, Tosco said they would be gone by the time the bombs dropped. He demanded Lieutenant Michaels fire the guns and trust him. He said we were to head back to Portsmouth immediately.”
“We just left there!”
Alice had to grab the wall to keep herself steady. Why on earth would Tosco have ordered The Hatchet back to Portsmouth? She had got the impression they were wanted fugitives there or something. She had a terrible fear that Tosco was dead. Maddy too.
“And can you believe they found Alice’s mom? I mean, what the hell?”
“I thought Captain Granger’s ex-wife lived in Indiana?”
“Exactly! How did she make it all the way over here, and in the exact place our commanding officer takes us to? It seems like too much of a—”
It was a massive no-no to enter an officer’s cabin, but Alice barged open the door and threw herself inside. There, she found Lieutenant Brooks talking with Ensign Grady. Strangely, Brooks was lying in his bed, while Grady was sitting on a chair to one side of the cramped room. Alice assumed Grady had just finished his shift.
“What the hell are you playing at, Alice. Get out!”
“I heard what you just said. You said my mom is alive!”
Brooks and Grady both stared with their mouths open, and their shocked expressions led her to doubt herself. Had she misheard? Or was cabin fever sending her insane? Of course, there was no way her mom could be alive. No way at all. It made no sense.
Brooks swallowed. Slowly the shocked expression left his face. He ran a hand over his mouth and ruffled the stubble on his upper lip. “Apparently, yes, she was alive. That’s what Commander Tosco reported to us yesterday, anyway. It seems like the settlement in the forest was attacked while they were there. We haven’t heard anything since.”
“We have to go there. We have to go and find out what happened.”
Brooks sighed. “Our orders are to return to Portsmouth. I think Lieutenant Michaels plans to set sail at oh-seven-hundred.”
Alice clenched her fists and stepped up to the officer’s bed. He pulled up his blanket and shuffled against the headboard. Was she scaring him? “There’s no way I’m going back to Portsmouth if my mom is here. I’m getting off this boat.”
“Don’t be stupid,” said Grady. “You can’t survive on your own.”
Alice spun on him. “I would rather die alone out there then be stuck on The Hatchet any longer. I’m tired of being a prisoner.”
Brooks frowned. “You’re not a prisoner, Alice. Tosco brought you on board to keep you safe.”
“And now he’s missing. What kind of person would I be if I abandoned him as well as my mom? I want to go look for them in this forest. That’s why we came here, right?”
Ensign Grady stepped towards her with his hand out. “Come on, Alice. It’s early. Let’s get some chow and we’ll talk about it.”
Alice swiped at the man’s outstretched hand. She ignored Grady and kept her focus on Brooks. “Help me, Lieutenant, please. Help me find my mom. If not for me, then do it for my dad.”
Brooks looked away, almost like he was ashamed. “Captain Granger was a good man, Alice, but I fear his spirit will come back and haunt me if I allow you to get hurt.”
“He sailed an ocean to get to me. What do you think he would think if I was unwilling to travel a few miles to reach my mom?”
Grady stuttered. “C-Commander Tosco saved my life on more than one occasion. I would be happy to go look for him with Alice.”
Alice turned to the junior officer and wanted to hug him. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty, and he looked like a starving fox with his wispy red hair, but he was clearly brave to offer to help her. He was willing to do what was right. “Thank you, Grady.”
Brooks threw off his blankets, revealing himself naked aside from a pair of briefs. “None of this means anything. It’s Lieutenant Michael’s decision, so I suggest we go and talk with him. He might be willing to send a small team to find out what happened in the forest, but I doubt it.”
Alice averted her eyes, uncomfortable at the sight of the officer’s bulge beneath his well-developed abs. “But you’ll help me, right? You’ll argue on my side?”
Brooks sighed. “Yes, Grady and I will both argue on your behalf. To be honest, Tosco has earned the right for a rescue mission. If he’s in danger, he deserves our help. Now, Alice, will you kindly get out of my cabin so that I can get dressed? I expect a coffee waiting for me when I step outside.”
Alice snapped to attention and smiled. “Right away, sir.”
My mom’s alive.
And I’m going to find her.
14
The demons were starting to increase in number. A majority of the fighting was within the ruins of the city, but it was gradually getting closer. The demons came from the rubble, moving through side streets and main roads. Defenders continued firing from machine-gun nests and sniper posts in the various buildings, but over the last two hours, as dawn arrived, screams had begun to break out. The demons were getting through the barricades and making it up the stairwells. A hundred metres away, Mass saw a man fall backwards out of a third-floor window with a primate on top of him. Both died when they hit the ground. The morning sun made their blood shine.
“They’re getting closer,” said Smithy. The current score was five–three to Smithy. Mass hated to admit it, but he wasn’t as good a shot.
“We’re making it hard for them, and that’s what counts. The more that die out there in the ruins, the less we’ll have to deal with at the walls when the real fighting begins.”
“I feel bad for the poor sods out there in the city. They’ve been fed to the wolves.”
Mass grunted. “We’ve all been fed to the wolves. No one is safe.”
“How you reckon Rick’s getting on? Dude’s like one of the X-Men.”
“I saw light blasting from near the Spinnaker. Looks like he’s made quite the journey.”
Smithy looked towards the bent, broken spire that had once topped the city’s landmark building. “Where’s he going, you reckon? Is he abandoning us?”
“I doubt it. I’m sure he has his reasons.”
A demon leapt out of some rubble and sprinted for the walls. Smithy whipped his shotgun around and hit it square in the chest. “Ha! That’s six for me now. Suck my big hairy balls.”
Mass shook his head and sighed. “I give up. You’re too bloody good.”
There was shouting behind them, men arguing or maybe just voicing their concerns. Mass lowered his shotgun and turned to face the group walking towards the walls. It was Wanstead and his officers.
“Wait here.” Mass patted Smithy on the back and then dropped down off the top of the van. He stepped into Wanstead’s path. “Colonel? What’s up?”
“General Thomas is alive. That man is made of iron.”
“He’s made of blood and guts, I can assure you. So what are you telling me, that he beat the demons?”
Wanstead shook his head sadly. “Alas not. He’s returning home with only a thousand men.”
Mass had to plant his feet to remain steady, suddenly feeling woozy. “And he left with fifteen thousand? Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.”
Wanstead put up a hand. “Let’s focus on action not regret. There are a thousand tired and wounded men stranded outside our walls. We need to go and rescue them.”
“Thomas can die out there for all I care. He fucking deserves to.”
“Perhaps, but what of the thousand men with him? They are guilty of nothing but fighting for our survival. How many of your own friends count amongst them, do you think?”
It was unlikely anyone Mass knew had survived whatever slaughter Thomas had led them to. The bastard would have used the original inhabitants of Portsmouth as cannon fodder in order to protect his own, more loyal men. Even so, those thousand soldiers were innocent men who had just been trying to do the right thing.
“What do you plan on doing?” asked Mass.
“We need to send out a rescue mission. Those men are too valuable to leave stranded.”
“Also, they’re human beings, right? We should rescue them regardless of whether they’re useful.”
Wanstead smirked, obviously finding the questioning of his morals amusing. “Consider yourself lucky that you can still see things in black and white. I need your help, Mr Mass.”
“You want me to take my guys out to rescue the son of a bitch who wants us dead?”
“I realise the irony, but your people know the ruins better than anyone.”
Mass stepped up to Wanstead and looked him in the eye. His guards bristled, their hands moving to their weapons. “You send me out there, and I promise you that Thomas won’t be coming back, you get me? If you want me to risk my neck saving a thousand innocent men, then my answer is yes, but Thomas isn’t part of the deal. I see him in trouble, about to die, I turn my back.”
Wanstead took a step forward, reducing the distance between them to almost nothing. When he spoke, he almost whispered. “Mr Mass, have you not considered that I understand that? Portsmouth needs all the fighting men it can get, which makes those thousand men out there precious. Whether or not Thomas returns is of less import.”
Mass frowned, trying to figure Wanstead out. Slowly, it became clear. “If Thomas fails to return, and we win this fight, Portsmouth has a new leader. You.”
Wanstead nodded, almost imperceptibly. “I’m a good man, Mr Mass. I don’t toy with people’s lives when I don’t have to, and I prefer mercy over pain. Portsmouth could suffer worse fates than my leadership.”
“I think you might be a good man, more or less,” said Mass, “but you tried to shoot me and killed my friend, Tox. I’ll take my Vampires out there to bring back those men, but as for what happens next, you shouldn’t get too comfy on your throne. Still want my help?”
Wanstead cleared his throat and stepped back. He’d turned a little pale in the glow of the spotlights. “It disappoints me to hear you hold a grudge, and yet I do understand it. As it stands, Mr Mass, I would still very much appreciate you bringing those men home. What you do with General Thomas is your choice. No one will shed tears, whatever happens.”
Mass looked down at his shotgun, dirty and battered. “Okay, Colonel. Looks like I’m heading out then. First, though, I’m going to need something from you.”
“And what is that?”
“Guns. Lots and lots of guns.”
The human’s weapons are formidable. Several thousand of Crimolok’s legion already lie dead, torn apart by tiny shards of metal and exploding chemicals. It is no matter, for tens of thousands more will take their place. The massive gate to Hell remains open. The damned spill out continuously, blanketing the Earth. This is the second great flood – the flood of blood and flesh.
Noah be damned.
Crimolok strides onward, footsteps crushing the metal wagons littering the human pathways, but then he pauses. He senses something. Something terrible. Obscene.
He looks down.
There stands his brother. Even inside the diseased meat he is wearing he shines like a star, and the beauty of his spirit manages to surprise Crimolok after having lost his true memory of it.
“Michael! I sensed you were here. Did God expel you from his feeble cocoon, or did you flee, knowing His time is at an end?”
From inside the wretched vessel of a deceased human, Michael stares up at Crimolok without fear or awe. “Brother, you are an offence to creation. You were born to build, and yet you destroy.”
“Destruction is the essence of creation, Michael. How can I create unless given a canvas? God surely forgives me, for he made me what I am.”
“God’s forgiveness is forever beyond you, vile one. I came here to stop you. Your atrocities must end.”
That God’s forgiveness is forever out of reach causes a deep sorrow inside Crimolok, but it serves only to stoke the blazing fury inside his soul. “You should have remained in safety and enjoyed Heaven a while longer. How did you come to be here?”
“Our forsaken cousin Daniel gave his power to the human who owned this body. This vessel is the only one in existence able to hold an angel’s essence. It was the only way I could come here and face you. I left the warmth of Heaven because of your arrogant crusade.”
“Now you will know only oblivion.” Crimolok lashes out, trying to crush his brother’s vessel with a swipe of his giant hand. Michael leaps aside and throws out an arm. A bolt of heavenly light slice
s the air and hits Crimolok’s shoulder.
Crimolok stumbles backwards, feeling pain for the first time in his long existence. It is exquisite. His legions surround Michael, intending to tear his vessel apart, but he quickly dispatches them with the purifying flames of Heaven. They are no match for an angel.
“Is Lucifer with you too?” Crimolok demands. “I do not sense his presence.”
“Lucifer is somewhere else, seeking atonement for his crimes. It is not too late for you to do the same. God’s forgiveness is beyond your reach, but mine is not, brother. Stop your slaughter and embrace me.”
“Embrace you? Where? In the depths of the abyss where our father sent me? Do you know what it is like for a creative being to be trapped in an endless nothingness? I spent an eternity in complete darkness with nothing but my own nightmares.” Crimolok sneers in disgust. “You think our father to be a just and merciful ruler? He is a scared tyrant, hiding away while his children burn. I would never abandon my garden as He has done His.”
Michael sneered back. “It is because of avaricious fiends like you that he was forced to do so. He chose humanity’s suffering over humanity’s end. A choice with terrible consequences that could not be avoided, but a pained life is better than no life.”
Crimolok sneers again. “It depends on the amount of pain. Allow me to demonstrate.”
Michael dodges another attack, an irritating wasp. Once more, he releases a white-hot stream of heavenly light, singeing Crimolok’s torso and drawing more of that exquisite agony. It is a feeling like no other – an explosion of the senses.
Michael throws more light, burns more flesh. “Give up, brother, or be extinguished.”
“Extinction is the only kindness left to me, Michael. I will prevail or I will not, but I will never again be a prisoner. Enough talk! Let us fight as brothers must.”
More of Crimolok’s legions surround Michael, closing in on all sides and forcing him to deal with them. Crimolok takes his chance, lunging forward and scooping Michael up in his hand. The fight is over.
Hell On Earth Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 159
