Legion: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel (Hell on Earth Book 2)

by Iain Rob Wright

  “To help us.”

  “Yes.”

  “My stomach… It’s bad.”

  Maddy shook her head. “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “No.”

  Rick looked down at his stomach. His shirt was bloody and torn, yet when he pawed at himself, he found only clear, unbroken flesh. “But…?”

  “You healed,” said Diane, hurrying over with tears in her eyes. “You can’t die.”

  Keith huffed. “Everything dies.”

  “Including The Caretaker,” said Rick, filled with relief now they were safe for a while. He really wanted to rest.

  “Is he really gone?” asked Maddy.

  Rick searched his mind for answers and knew that The Caretaker was once again sweeping the hallways of Hell. More knowledge came to him in a steady stream. “They’re frightened,” he said.

  “Who is?” Keith frowned.

  “All of them, the demons. They are afraid of being sent back to Hell. This is their one and only shot. We can win this war. We can fight back. If not, then they wouldn’t be afraid. They know there’s a chance for us.”

  Those who had not fled gathered round, listening intently. His words were met with whispers and sobs—perhaps hope.

  Maddy smiled and nodded. “As long as we keep fighting, we can beat them.”

  Rick stood up, and without a word, he walked towards the shimmering gate.

  Keith called out to him. “Rick, what are you doing? Get away from there.”

  Rick faced the shimmering tapestry of light and tried to see through. Voices whispered to him in a thousand languages. Eyes watched him. Eyes full of fear.

  He reached out his hand—

  “Rick!”

  —and touched the gate.

  There was no explosion—no fireworks or noise—it simply stopped being there. Like a snapping eyelid, the gate blinked out of existence. All bodies of dead demons littering the ground disappeared as well. The evil was gone, along with any memory of it.

  Rick turned to face the astonished crowd. “We have work to do.”

  Richard Honeywell

  The demon known as Andras was a sorry sight. David, who was no picture himself with grievous wounds still healing, admitted to sawing off the demon’s legs and arms before cauterising the blood vessels with flames from the building’s kitchen. Although hellish in nature, Andras inhabited a human body, and felt the pain to go along with it.

  “Why did you do this?” Richard asked David, surprised it didn’t sicken him more. Seeing his wife’s head reduced to mush had altered him, stripped a part of him away—the human part.

  David huffed. “For information. Plus the bastard killed Mina.”

  Richard groaned. So that was what happened to her.

  “He doesn’t have long,” David went on, “and once he dies he’ll return to the pit he came from. He claims to be a Lord of Hell, a former angel, yet he acquired a human body for means of subterfuge. Soon as he escapes us, he will share all he knows with his brethren.”

  “And what does he know? What information do they even need? We’ve lost.”

  David glared at Richard through his one remaining eye—the other burned away—and said, “We have lost nothing except the first move. They hit us, now we hit back. Soldiers in Syria closed a gate, we have a Lord in our captivity… Things are bad, but we still have fight left in us. We’ve even been getting news of some kid who took on one of the giants in Tokyo and lived to tell about it. Human spirit is what will see us through.”

  Richard glanced at the mutilated body in the cupboard and sniffed. “Not sure there’s much humanity left in us anymore.”

  “Some of us give up a part of ourselves so that others don’t have to.”

  Andras spat at them. “You chatter like monkeys.”

  David backhanded the demon. “And you mewl like a dying kitten. Your brothers are at war while you sit wounded in a closet. How shameful.”

  “Then release me, and we will see where the shame lies.”

  David smirked, a ruinous gesture on his mangled face.

  “What do you want?” Richard asked the demon. “Why are you doing this?”

  “To take what is ours. We are the exalted ones, held down unjustly by mankind. You are unworthy of this earth, of such freedoms.”

  “You might be right,” said Richard, “but you don’t deserve it either.”

  Andras’s head slumped through weakness, but he fought to lift it again. “Regardless, we will take it. The Red Lord will rule, and humanity will be reduced to pigs in shit.”

  “And you, lowly farmers,” said David.

  Richard stopped David from striking the demon again. He moved close and stared Andras in his eyes. “You think this earth is so wonderful? It is filled with pain and hatred, no different to the Hell you came from. You are welcomed to this earth. Leave your gates open because you might want to return before long.”

  Andras sneered, his teeth broken and cragged. “Return is not an option. We must take this earth and flourish, or fail and die.”

  Richard raised an eyebrow. “You must? You said you must take it. What happens if you fail?”

  Andras writhed furiously. “We will not fail! The Red Lord will take this place in his fist and squeeze all life from it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it is his will. Every life taken will weaken God’s grip on the Heavens until we storm his kingdom and make him kneel.”

  David flinched. “You want war against God?”

  “Not for the first time, pig. Lucifer led us in glorious pursuit, yet he cowers and hides now as the Red Lord leads us anew. Every human death tips the balance in our favour.”

  David nodded. “So our extermination has a purpose? You need to kill us to… what, unlock Heaven?”

  Andras locked his jaw and said nothing else.

  David removed himself and Richard from the closet and closed the door. “You made him angry, Richard. Good work. His ego has been our greatest asset. He might be a Lord, but he speaks before he thinks. This war isn’t about us. It’s about God. Maybe that’s important.”

  Richard sighed. “I don’t care. I need to go check on my son.”

  He left David in the hallway and went back into the news office. The lights were off, conserving the last of the power that came from a generator. No one could say when the main grid had failed, but the town centre beyond the windows of the fourth floor was blanketed in darkness.

  Dillon sat in a corner of the office with the young girl, Alice. They were reading comic strips in the back of old copies of The Slough Echo. “Dillon is nice,” said Alice. “He tells me jokes.”

  Richard chuckled. “Really? He doesn’t tell me any.” Dillon looked away shyly. He had little experience of girls, young or old. “Alice, would you mind if I spoke to Dillon alone for a few minutes?”

  The little girl nodded and got up. Richard thanked her and sat beside his son.

  Dillon kept his head lowered.

  “Dillon, what happened to Mummy… It was something no child should ever have to see.”

  “She’s gone forever, isn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to get the bad man who did it?”

  Richard thought about Skullface—a seven-foot skeleton. “I don’t think I can, Dillon. All we can think about right now is staying safe.”

  “But you’re a policeman.”

  “My job doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Dillon looked up, tears raining down his cheeks. “Yes it does! You look after people when they need help. Mummy needed help, and now she’s gone. You have to get the bad man!”

  “Dillon…”

  “No, you need to still be a policeman. I want Alice to come back.”

  Richard looked at his son and realised he was getting overwrought. “Okay, sweetheart. I’ll go and get her.”

  He went back over to get Alice who was speaking with Corporal Martin. “Hi Alice, Dillon would like to play again when you
have a moment.”

  Corporal Martin nodded to her. “Go on.”

  She went back to join Dillon. Martin nodded to Richard. “Learn anything from our prisoner?”

  “Not a lot. Something about a war on God. David seemed to understand more than me.”

  The soldier rubbed at his chin. “I’ll speak with Portsmouth, see if they’ve heard anything similar.”

  “The Army still exists?”

  “Just about. There’re a dozen soldiers heading here, as we speak, to help protect what we’re doing—all they could spare. Any help we can get though at this point, you know?”

  “You really think you’re helping by running a website?”

  “Hey, I wasn’t a believer either, but we’re just about the last news site still running. The big companies got hit when London and New York were attacked. The Seattle Post is about the only other paper making regular updates, but in the UK we’re it—the last bastion of news. People are hiding out in their homes, logging on with their phones. We can’t help for much longer, but we’ve done enough to galvanise a few people into action. Case and point is the gate that closed in Syria. Portsmouth had discovered that it was a British Army Sergeant who managed it. One of the men he was fighting with went through it. The news we spread about it has given hope to people all over the world.”

  Richard lifted his chin and made sure he was hearing correctly. “Somebody went into the gate?”

  “Apparently, that’s how it was closed. Demons can come out, but a human going in short circuits it.”

  “So we can close the gates?”

  The corporal laughed. “Yeah, if we commit suicide.”

  Richard looked back at his son and nodded. “I understand.”

  “I just hope,” the corporal went on, “that someone closes the London gate soon. Andras doesn’t have long left, and once his human body gives in, his soul will return to Hell. He’ll reemerge in his proper form—a bloody giant—and well, this’ll be the first place he comes for retribution.”

  “A giant?”

  “Yes, have you not seen them? There’s only three in the UK, but they’re unkillable. They are leading the demons, forming armies ready to finish this war before it begins. The giants were angels once.”

  “And Andras too?”

  “Yes.”

  Richard shook his head. “How do you know all this?”

  “Andras himself mostly. He killed Mina, the reporter who was with me when we first met.”

  “I remember her.”

  “Andras tried to call home—I won’t go into how he did that—and David overheard him. He’s spilled even more information from the monster since. There are ways to win this war, Richard, we just have to find them.”

  “Like closing the gate in London?”

  “The gate will allow the demons reinforcements. There are over a hundred gates in this country, but the one in London is the one that threatens us most directly.”

  Richard looked back at Dillon again. His son was playing with Alice again and seemed to have forgotten his tears. Alice stroked his hair as they read more comics. The young girl seemed to understand that, despite Dillon being older, she was truly the elder of the two. She was a good girl, and Richard wondered what had become of her parents.

  “I’ll pass through the gate,” he said.

  Corporal Martin gave him a look and then laughed. “What are you talking about?”

  Richard stared the man in the eyes to convey that he was not joking. “Those soldiers on their way here. Have them take me into the city, and I will pass through that gate. I’ll give my life if it means you will all be safer here. If it keeps my son alive.”

  “Don’t be absurd. Rich—”

  “Somebody has to do it, don’t they?”

  “Yes, but not fathers with sons to look after. Not those with a choice.”

  “None of us has a choice anymore. All we can do is try to make life hard for these bastards. I will pass through the gate. I’ve already made my mind up.”

  “And what about your son?”

  Richard watched Dillon for a few more seconds. “My son is damaged. All I can do now is try to give him enough time to heal. If I can do something to keep more mothers from being taken away from their sons… I want to do this.”

  “I say let him.” Leonard walked over to them. “I only met Richard this morning, but he kept us all alive. If he wants to do this, I’ll help get him there.”

  “Me too,” said Riaz.

  “And me,” added the paramedic, Oliver.

  “Sod it, I’m in,” Aaron added from the corner of the office.

  Richard looked around and realised several people had woken up and been listening. Their support was unexpected, yet welcome.

  Corporal Martin laughed. “This war doesn’t need a Fellowship of the Ring. We don’t need heroes, we need strategy and planning.”

  Rick shook his head. “We need both. Every war has its heroes and planners, and I’m no planner.”

  Corporal Martin sighed. “Look, Richard. You’re a free man. All I ask is that you sleep on it. If in the morning you are still set on a suicide mission, we’ll work something out.”

  Richard nodded, satisfied. “I won’t change my mind.”

  And he was certain he wouldn’t, which was something he found absurd. Was he really willing to give his life? He looked once again at his son—forever innocent, courtesy of his Downs. Yes, he was willing.

  “Thank you for getting us this far,” said Aaron.

  Richard patted the lad on the shoulder. “You got yourself this far. Bravery is not something you’re short of.”

  “Ha! I’ve pissed myself three times today.”

  “So have I.”

  “You really sure you want to go into the city?”

  Richard nodded. “What happened today showed me what a losing battle we’re fighting. If I can do something to hit back, then I’m sure.”

  Aaron sighed. “I’ll be ready when you are.”

  “No, I want you to stay here and watch Dillon.”

  “Me? What about your partner.”

  “Riaz isn’t my partner. Anyway, I want you to stay here because you’re tough, and you believe in sticking by your friends. Dillon will look up to you, and you’re too young to accompany me on a suicide trip. You can do more good here.”

  Aaron looked like he was about to argue, but didn’t. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  Richard pulled the lad into a hug. Aaron resisted for a moment, but then hugged back. It was a gesture the lad was obviously unused to, but one he soon embraced. “You’re a good lad, Aaron. Stay alive and keep Dillon with you.”

  “Richard?” The voice that called his name was that of a woman, familiar yet… pained.

  Everyone in the office turned towards the door, but it was Richard who reacted most hysterically. He flew across the room towards his wife, arms outstretched, eyes and mouth wide open in shock. “Jennifer!”

  David came out of nowhere and grabbed Richard six feet before his wife. “Open your eyes, Richard.”

  “Get off me!”

  “Mummy?” Dillon got up of the floor, but Alice held him back.

  “Stay here, Dillon. That’s not your mummy.”

  Richard looked at his wife—saw the misshaped curve of her flattened skull, left eye dangling down her cheek—and realised she was still dead. Whatever this was, it was not Jen.

  “What do you want?” David demanded of the ghoul at their door.

  Her teeth chattered madly for a second, and then she spoke. “I just want to see my husband. Richard, I’m hurt. I need you!”

  Richard snarled at the thing abusing his wife’s corpse. “Jen would have asked for Dillon before she ever asked for me. She was a mother. You monsters took her from us.”

  The crooked mouth smirked, and her single eye scanned the room. “You are all going to die. Andras will crush you all.” She reached down and picked something up off the ground before tossing it into the middle of
the room.

  Andras’s head.

  “Shit!” said David. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

  The mockery of Jen cackled. “He is coming.”

  Bang!

  Jen’s head exploded for a second time. All eyes turned to the back of the room where Corporal Martin held a smoking semi-auto. Richard screamed out in pain. He did not attack the soldier, for he knew he had done nothing to harm his wife. Jen had been dead the moment Skullface took her head between his hands.

  So, instead, he fell to the floor and cursed God. Dillon hurried over and dropped to the floor beside him, and they cried together.

  Morning broke, allowing Richard to look out of the office windows at the silent town of Slough. Somewhere out there a horde of demons lurked, but how many humans too? Would they fight back, or die like dogs in the street?

  Pigs, Andras had called them.

  They had found Andras’s decapitated torso in the cupboard moments after the thing dressed as Jen had arrived. The creature’s purpose had been to free Andras from his mortal coil—using the carcass of a loved one had been a perverse bonus. The demons enjoyed causing pain.

  Dillon slept in a side office with Alice and Carol. The older woman was the head of the newspaper, but she was also the mother of the group. Richard felt safe leaving Dillon in her care. Many others in the office slept too. It’d been a long night, and the morning promised only more hardship. Smoky tendrils rose behind a dozen buildings on the horizon. The world was on fire, becoming a new Hell for mankind to endure.

  Corporal Martin appeared beside Richard, and for a while, the two of them stood there looking out at what was now a battleground. Martin spoke first. “The extra soldiers will be here within the hour. You still want an escort to the city?”

  “No. I’m staying.”

  Martin nodded. “What changed your mind?”

  “My wife. Not what appeared last night pretending to be her. I mean my actual wife. Jen would never forgive me for leaving Dillon. These bastards think they can murder us and wear our bodies for sport. They think they can escape the punishment of Hell by brute force and we’ll stand back and let them? No, I won’t have it. There might not be any laws left, but there are still rules. You don’t take what isn’t yours. You don’t kill to get what you want. I’m a police officer, and as long as I still live I will protect people by enforcing the rules. Way I look at it, what we’re up against is no more than a bunch of escaped prisoners. It’s time to start sending them back.”