Michael squirms in Crimolok’s hands, but with his arms trapped, he can summon no more of that heavenly light. Crimolok looks down at his brother and is surprised to feel something other than hatred. “You and Lucifer were my brothers. I loved you, yet you abandoned me to Father’s wrath. That sin is greater than all else. That sin is the reason this world, and so many others, burn. I am the Red Lord, the painter of blood, the new father of creation.”
“You are lost, brother, as you have always been. Your gift is too much to bear. It puts you closer to God than any of us, but you sear in the heat of his glory.”
“Then I shall burn.” Crimolok clenches his fist, crushing the weak, blood-filled vessel his brother inhabits. Liquids explode from the orifices and Crimolok tosses the quivering meat to the ground.
Tony could hold on no longer. He’d rode day and night to get here, and there was no doubt that he’d arrived, but his body was done. The trees deep into the forest had all been chopped down, and the uneven ground tossed Tony’s scrambler back and forth until he was no longer able to hold on. His wrists were weak and his hands could no longer grip, so he simply let go of the handlebars and tumbled from the seat. The scrambler continued on until it hit a stump and toppled onto its side. For a while, Tony lay there on his back, staring up at the early morning sun. It was a cold sun, more lukewarm yellow than blazing orange. Winter was on its way, and soon the dead world would frost over.
There’s no one left. This place is abandoned.
Tony turned his head and saw a field of flesh. Bodies, not people. A crumbling wall lined a nearby hill, a castle hiding behind it. This was the place he’d been looking for. It was a dead place.
Soon my body will join all the rest.
Tony lay on his back, tired, panting, and waiting to die. The war wounded knew when their time was up. They would find a place to rest and close their eyes, knowing they would never again wake up. He had thought to do the same.
But he wasn’t dead. Not yet.
His constant shivering and blurred vision told him there could not have been much blood left in him to lose, and he assumed it was only shock keeping him breathing. All pain had gone. His thoughts were basic, focused only on the present. He was partly dreaming, not knowing fully what was going on. The only thought he could hold on to was that he needed to climb the nearby hill. He needed to reach the top.
I need to know for sure that everyone is dead.
And so he managed to climb back to his feet and continue his journey on foot. There was only a hundred metres left to go until the bottom of the hill. He couldn’t lie down and die so close to his objective. His feet felt like lead weights and he had to labour over every step. He made it away from the trees and into the field of the dead, intending to avert his eyes and cast out the images of dead men and women, but what he saw surprised him. The carpet of flesh wasn’t human. The corpses belonged to demons – thousands of them. They were mostly burnt, but many were dismembered, arms and legs hanging on by sinew and skin. There were arrows sticking out of the ground and peppering bodies all around. Closer to the hill, the bodies were nearly incinerated. Something had obliterated them – like a giant lightning bolt from the sky.
Tony began to hope. Perhaps the people here were still alive. Perhaps they possessed some fantastic weapon that could do this. What on earth could wipe out a thousand demons in a field like this? Military artillery was the only thing he could think of.
That hope slowly bled away as he climbed the hill, seeking the castle at the top. The ancient stone wall was in ruins, entirely broken down in several places. There was no way this place could ever be defended.
It had fallen.
Climbing the hill was a slow process, and Tony nearly quit several times. Demon corpses littered the slope, and their blood made it slippery. If not for the fact that so many were burned, he wouldn’t have made it. Their ashes covered the ground and allowed him to barely keep his footing. Eventually he made it to the top.
His energy spent, Tony fell onto his hands and knees. His journey was still incomplete, so he fought the urge to lie down. He wouldn’t die six feet outside the castle walls, so he crawled.
And he crawled.
He didn’t stop until he made it inside the walls. Bloody saliva hung from his mouth. His pulse pounded in his eardrums.
The castle had toppled, only its lower section was still standing. Its upper floors, walls, and ceiling were scattered in a hundred places, demon bodies crushed beneath. Everything had been scorched black, as if the world itself had caught fire. The bodies were so badly charred in this area that is was impossible to tell human from demon. This must have been the scene of a last stand. Somehow the people here had pulled the pin on something devastating.
Good on ’em. They went down in a blaze of glory.
There was a patch of unburnt ground nearby, shielded from the blaze by a stack of thick logs. Tony dragged himself over to it, barely able to feel his legs any more. It was a struggle, but he managed to pull himself into a sitting position against the logs. Too tired to hold his head up, he let it lower onto his shoulder. It was then that he saw the most beautiful sight.
Ten feet away was a gigantic foot. Tony allowed his gaze to follow a massive leg until it reached a ruined torso torn almost in two. The humans here had managed to kill a fallen angel. It made their last stand even more heroic. It was an honour to die amongst them.
I always thought I’d die on a battlefield. Never thought it would be this peaceful.
Tony managed to lift his head and look straight ahead. The stone wall in front of him was mostly intact, but a small section had been knocked down, leaving a gap the size of two men standing shoulder to shoulder. Through the gap, Tony could see the sun. Beneath that sun, at the bottom of a long, grassy slope was a wonderful lake. Its waters reflected nothing but sky, and it was untouched by the charred chaos of war. There were even ducks gliding on its surface.
Tony smiled. It was a good place to die.
“You all right, mate?”
Tony turned his head more quickly than he should have, and his vision swirled. Standing before him was a middle-aged woman wearing a cassock and dog collar. He blinked several times, trying to dispel the bizarre ghost.
“Gotta say,” said the woman, refusing to disappear from his imagination, “you look like something just shat you out. Where did you come from?”
“W-Who are you?”
“Angela. I’m the only one left here. Sorry if you expected a crowd.”
Tony wheezed, struggling to breathe. “They’re all dead?”
“What? No, not at all, my friend. They buggered off to Portsmouth.”
“Portsmouth?”
The woman nodded. “Yeah, apparently there’s a bunch of people there.”
Tony started laughing. It made him dizzy, and he kept thinking he would run out of breath and pass out, but he couldn’t stop. He kept on until the woman grunted at him and appeared pissed off. “Sorry,” he managed to say. “It’s just that I came from Portsmouth to find you people, only to find out that everyone went the other way. It’s funny.”
The woman looked at him for a moment, then smiled. It was a warm, genuine expression that made Tony feel completely at home with this odd, middle-aged vicar. She sat down next to him, leaning against the logs and staring out through the gap in the wall. “The people here were bloody mad on fishing,” she said. “The place stunk of fish twenty-four-seven. I hated it, but now it smells too much of fire and blood. Reminds me of a place I’d rather not go back to.
“What happened here?”
“The demons attacked, but before the people here scarpered, they called in a fireworks show. It was quite the event. Reminded me of the civic hall on a Friday night. You ever been?”
He shook his head. “How did you survive what happened here, the bombs?”
“The castle had a dungeon. Seemed like a good place to be, so I threw myself down the steps just as the first bombs hit. Felt like the ground was going to swal
low me up, but once it stopped I came back outside and everything was on fire. Can’t you feel how hot it was, even now?”
Tony shook his head. “I can’t feel anything.”
“Yeah, that’ll be because you’re dying. You Christian?”
“No. Fuck God.”
“Okay, no last rites for you, then, but can I say one thing?”
Tony looked at her. “Be my guest?”
“All is forgiven. God – or whoever was running the show – really dropped the ball by letting Hell invade the Earth, so believe me when I say there’s going to be an amnesty on damnation. Hell is out of business. There’s only one place still accepting lost souls now and that’s Heaven. I can’t tell you what it’s like up there, but I can tell you that this place isn’t all there is. There’s more, and I think you’ll be surprised by what you find.”
Tony wheezed. “I-I’ve killed a lot of people. Before all this… I killed… many.”
The woman put a hand on his thigh and squeezed playfully. “Amnesty, remember? You’re going to be just fine. I just watched you stagger up this hill with everything you’ve got. Only a decent man has that kind of determination. Now, rest and give in. You’ve fought your last battle, so no more struggling. Just lie back and let it take you.”
Tony couldn’t control his eyelids. They were sliding down, millimetre by millimetre. He wanted to yawn, but his lungs had stopped. The only thing he could feel now was his own thumping heartbeat. But even that eventually stopped. The strange thing was that another thumping had begun – a rhythmic, powerful beating of the wind. It was a sound Tony knew well from his years fighting other men’s wars.
It was a helicopter.
“Jesus Christ,” said the woman beside him. “Hold on a little longer, fella. I think the cavalry’s here.”
15
Mass moved beyond the gates, giving a hand signal for Cullen to split off with Fang 2 while he led Fang 1. Addy and Smithy were both in Mass’s team. Addy was the last member of the team he’d led out of Portsmouth on that doomed mission several weeks ago now. He couldn’t bear to be parted with her. Smithy, on the other hand, was Mass’s good luck charm. Since meeting the lad, they had survived certain death on several occasions. He was too good not to have around.
Twenty other men had been spread across the two teams, and Mass knew all of them. They were the last of the Urban Vampires, and they were about to do what they did best: saving the goddamn day.
It was early in the day, which made their mission harder. They couldn’t sneak in under the cover of darkness and retrieve General Thomas and his men. There was no choice but to fight. At least Wanstead had come through on the weaponry. Mass felt good about that.
The Benelli shotgun was a sight to behold – a semi-automatic with a handgun grip and collapsible stock. It held eight solid shot cartridges at a time, and was an absolute cannon. Mass felt his balls grow every time he fired it. To think the only gun he had ever held a year ago had been the odd antique passed around pubs between drug dealers. In addition, the other ten Vampires on his team had been kitted out with an assortment of combat rifles and less exotic shotguns.
They had set out an hour ago and had already made it halfway across the city, heading north and fighting for every inch. Fortunately, the demons were focused on assaulting the walls around the docks and only attacked Mass and his team sporadically. It still felt like the early waves of a larger assault. Something worse was coming.
Crimolok.
General Thomas had radioed in his position as being to the direct north of the city at Fort Widley. The old fortification was manned by a small group of guards, ready to send up flares if anything entered the city, so Thomas had likely gone there hoping to find allies and weapons. He would have found both. It was a smart move.
Smithy no longer sported a shotgun. He had swapped it for a matching pair of Sig handguns that he wielded like a maniac, popping off shots left and right before gleefully slamming in fresh clips. Mass would never have thought a person could have a natural talent for killing, but Smithy was some sort of prodigy. He made killing demons a performance. The other Vampires watched him in awe.
“How much further is this fort?” Smithy asked as he shoved both muzzles against a burnt man’s eyes and pulled the triggers. “Does it have a gift shop?”
Addy was looking around, searching for more targets, but they seemed to be in the clear for the moment. “It’s about another half a mile,” she answered. “You’ll see it soon. Big, ugly thing.”
“It’s defensible,” said Mass. “It was smart for Thomas to head there. If he decides to try and take us out, we won’t stand a chance.”
Smithy wiped demon eyeball goop from his face and frowned. “Why would he take us out? We’re coming to rescue him.”
“He wants me dead, and seeing a team of Urban Vampires sneaking through the ruins is going to give him a perfect excuse to start shooting.”
“It presents an opportunity for us too,” said Addy. “I say we kill the bastard as soon as we get a chance. With the chaos going on right now, we can get in and out before anyone knows what’s happening. We should make a plan.”
Mass replaced the cartridges in his shotgun and thought about it. “I don’t have a plan. Shit, I haven’t had a plan since the first demons arrived on my block in Brixton. We stick together and don’t give up. That’s the only plan I’ve ever followed.”
“Friends forever!” said Smithy with a great beaming smile. “Hey, heads up!”
A group of demons emerged from a block of flats. They were covered in blood, no doubt from having killed a group of soldiers camped on the upper floors. Mass peered upwards and saw the torn body of a woman hanging half out of a broken window on the fourth floor.
Addy fired and struck the first demon. Smithy let loose with his handguns and hit the next. Mass obliterated the third with his Benelli. All three demons were burnt men. The number of primates seemed to be decreasing, which was a good thing. The burnt men were slower, weaker, and much easier to deal with in small groups than the frenzied primates. It gave Mass hope that perhaps they were making a dent in their enemy’s numbers. Their elite troops were running thin.
Mass moved his team deeper into the city, trying to keep to alleyways and overhangs whenever possible. The quieter they could be, the fewer demons that would notice them. Ammunition didn’t grow on trees, although Smithy acted like it did. So far, he had performed a majority of the killing. There were Vampires on the team who hadn’t even fired their weapons yet.
“We’re almost there,” said Addy several minutes later. “Let’s keep our heads down.”
Mass nodded. “I hear machine guns. They’re still fighting at the fort. Come on.”
They hurried through the ruins, mindful of every corner or potential hiding place for a demon, but they found the way ahead clear except for demon corpses littering the road.
“I think I see the fort,” said Smithy, pointing a handgun. “Is that it?”
Mass peered ahead and saw the red-brick fortification cutting into the hillside in a harsh V-shape. “Yeah, that’s it. Reckon we should knock on the front door?”
“You guys have never met, right?” said Smithy. “I mean, Thomas has never seen you before? Why don’t you just pretend to be someone else until he lets us inside?”
It wasn’t the worst idea, but it was still too risky. “Even if he doesn’t recognise me, others with him will. If we lie, he’ll have even more reason to shoot at us. Our best bet is to be honest. From what I’ve heard about General Thomas, he’s a politician. He won’t murder us in front of a thousand men if he doesn’t have a good reason.” Mass took a few deep breaths, giving it some final thought. “Okay, we go in peace and play dumb. He won’t shoot us with our hands in the air.”
“You hope,” interjected Addy. She held up a radio and waggled it. “What about Cullen’s team?”
“Tell him to set up nearby and stay concealed. We might need backup if things go south.”
<
br /> Addy made the call.
Smithy twirled his handguns like an old-fashioned gunslinger. “Ready, boss?”
Mass nodded. “Follow me.”
The team spread out in a line and headed across a main road choked with wreckage. They quickly stepped onto an overgrown verge that led up to a steep embankment. Up close, the looming fort was massive: three storeys high and stretching off to the east and west. Muzzles flashed from a dozen places inside, lighting up the shadows inside the many windows. Machine-gun fire chattered nearby.
“What are they firing at?” Smithy aimed his handguns but found no enemies. “The demons here are all dead.”
“The demons must have got inside,” said Mass, deciding that was the only explanation. “We need to go and help. Come on.”
They hurried up the hill, making use of the paved road that led to a small car park in front of the fort. Several cars were parked there, as well as a large green double-decker bus. The bus was full of petrol and supplies, still roadworthy and well maintained. Mass knew because he had parked it there himself in the early days of the war. It was an escape vehicle for those camped out at the fort. It didn’t look like anybody had made use of it though.
The fort’s front entrance was managed by a turnstile set into an archway. Mass marched up to it and grabbed the bars. They were locked in place. “Damn it.”
“Should we try the back door?” asked Smithy.
Mass cupped his mouth with his hands. “Hey! Hey, anyone around?”
No answer at first, but then: “How’s it going, geezer?”
Mass stepped back. “Damien? What…? How did you get inside there?”
“I have my ways, innit? Heard General Thomas was around, so thought I’d see what the bloke was all about.”
Smithy shook his head and grinned. “What did you do, man? Just stroll through the city like there isn’t a war going on right now?”
Damien shrugged from the other side of the bars. “The demons don’t pay me much attention. Guess I’m too much like them. Dead, remember?”
Hell On Earth Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 160
