“No cell coverage in New York City,” said Mitch. “Not good, right?”
Jim shrugged. “Brooklyn. We wouldn’t have a problem in Staton Island.”
Sully pointed a finger. “Don’t disrespect Brooklyn, yo. They have the best pizza here.” Then he re-noticed all of the dead bodies and bent back over to gag.
T patted him on the back. “Just think of it as like when we stranded you on that trash barge. You were puking hard then but you got a handle on it eventually.”
Sully nodded and straightened up. “They’re all human. None of these bodies are the monsters that came out of the gate. Did we even fight back?”
“No, we hid,” said Mitch.
“I mean the Army, or whatever. Did they put up a fight?”
Jim nodded towards the skyline currently smoking from a hundred fires. “I’d say we did. We all heard the planes last night. They were bombing the bejesus out of Manhattan.”
“Let’s hope they got Wall Street,” said Sully.
Jim raised his long nose. “You’re just saying that because you’re a poor Mexican.”
“I’m not Mexican! I’m Puerto Rican and Cuban.”
They stepped down off the pavement into the road and started in the direction they thought safest. Heading out of the city was probably wisest. A few block down, they heard the sound of vehicles. Each of them panicked at the sound after so long in silence, but when they saw who it was they sighed with relief.
“It’s the boy’s in green, fellas,” said Jim.
The Army approached. Just a small line of troops and a couple of trucks, but it was a wonderful sight. It had started to feel like they were completely alone. Like the whole world had died.
“Hey, Mitch,” said Jim. “I dare you to be the little Chinese Guy on Tiananmen Square. Stand in the middle of the road and raise you hand to stop them all.”
Mitch giggled. “They’ll shoot me.”
“I’ll give you twenty dollars,” said Sully, seemingly glad to pretend like he wasn’t surrounded by corpses.
“Me too,” said T.
“Oh, come on, guys,” said Mitch. “I don’t wanna die.”
“I’ll give you a hundred dollars,” said Jim.
Mitch shook his head. “Oh, man.”
They all watched, trying to stifle their laughter while Mitch strolled into the centre of the road and put up his hand. The small convoy ground to a halt, the lead truck stopping just a few feet from Mitch.
An officer climbed out of the front passenger seat and approached. “What are you doing, sir?”
Mitch went bright red. “I… Oh, boy. I was just protesting against the inhumanity of war. I’m very very sorry. Please don’t shoot me.”
The officer lowered his eyebrows at Mitch and stared at him for several moments. Then his face lit up and he smiled. “Hey, you’re those guys from TV, right? The ones with that Prank show. Diabolical Prankers.”
Mitch nodded. “Yeah, that’s us.”
The officer patted Mitch on the back hard enough to send him off balance. “The boys love you guys. They always have your show running in the mess. Lightens everyone’s spirits. Wish I could say there will be chance for you to film more of them.”
Sully stepped forwards. “Are things that bad?”
The officer shook his head wearily. “You have no idea. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear a million have died in the city during the last forty-eight hours. Then enemy swarmed over Manhattan before were even had chance to respond. We blew the bridges and have most of them contained for the most part, but it’s only a matter of time before things spill into the other boroughs, and we can do nothing to stop the enemy heading north or the packs that already moved through here.”
“So what should we do?” asked Mitch. “Can we nuke them? Or perform a big exorcism. Give us a little hope here, man.”
The officer shrugged. “We’re on our way to Roosevelt Park to regroup with some other units. You’re welcome to tag along. Tell you the truth, my men are pretty stricken. Having a couple of jokers in our pack might do a bit of good. You still seem to still have your sense of humours, Lord knows how.”
Jim huffed. “It’s all we have. Take away our jokes and Mitch would be a blubbering mess.”
“We’d like to join you,” said Sully. “We’ll help if we can.”
The officer nodded to the truck. “Then get in back, boys. It’s going to be a long ride.”
They entered the truck to a warm welcome, the soldiers all spouting off their favourite skits or quoted catch phrases. Despite the many wounds and injuries the men sported, they all laughed heartely. Maybe laughter really was of value right now, and the live audience certainly felt good.
The vehicles resumed their journey out of the city, the back of the trucks filled with chuckles. The Cheese Burgers had joined the Army.
Damien Banks
Birmingham, United Kingdom
Harry pointed his rifle down from the window of the office block they were stationed at. The lower levels housed a massive Waterstones, but the top two floors were unused. It had been converted into a makeshift base of operations for a small section of the Army. Harry was currently acting as a scout, watching the quiet city below.
Damien was standing behind him. “Still quiet down there?”
“Yeah, the enemy seem to be laying low. We had some reports of them capturing people and taking them to the gate, but we don’t know why.”
“I thought they were here to kill us all. Why take captives?”
Harry kept his eye against his scope. “Don’t know. Did you need something, civilian?”
“No, I’m just trying to understand what’s going on, so I can help.”
“You can’t help.”
Damien bristled. “Tell that to Steph. She’s alive because of me.”
Harry finally moved away from the window. “That was a stupid thing you did saving her. It was brave, but stupid. I can’t have stupid people doing stupid things. Just lay low with the other civilians. Leave this to the professionals.”
Damien rolled his eyes. “This involves everyone. I won’t sit back and do nothing.”
“Fine. Then grab those binoculars on the window ledge and help me keep watch. We need to keep this block secure, so look out for any approaching forces.”
Damien nodded, grabbed the binoculars and looked out the window. Military issue, the lenses were very strong, and he had to adjust the zoom several times to get his bearings. The street below was a section of high street with fast food restaurants and clothes shops making up the most part. It was currently quiet. No enemy in sight. While the Army’s forces in the area were moderate, it had been the police officers who had done the most good. Damien had seen them disperse massive flocks of the enemy with tear gas and flash bangs. It had not taken them out of commission for long, but it had allowed civilians to escape in the confusion and bought the Army an opportunity to strike. Damien had played impotent witness to most of the fighting in the last forty-eight hours, but he had at least done enough to save a young woman named Steph. She had followed him around ever since. It felt good to be a hero.
For ten minutes, he watched the street below but still didn’t feel like he was doing enough. He was about to take a breather when a massive headache struck. He stumbled away from the window, clutching his skull.
Steph raced up behind him, catching him as he fell. “Damien, are you all right?”
“What is it?” Harry demanded irritably.
“My… my head. Argh!” He clutched himself with both hands.
And he saw something.
It was if he were blind, but still seeing. He couldn’t see the world, only the images playing behind his closed eyelids.
He saw the enemy. “They’re coming.”
“Who?” asked Harry. “Who?”
“The demons from the gate. They know we’re here and they’re sending a group to take us out.”
“You saw something through the binoculars?”
Damien moaned, doubled over and tried not to vomit. “No! Im seeing it now. They’ll be here soon. There’re coming from inside a warehouse. L…L… Latifs!”
“I know Latifs,” said Steph. “It’s on New Canal Street about twenty minutes walk away.”
Damien opened his eyes and saw Harry frowning at him. The soldier said nothing as he plucked his radio and gave a command. “Get on to Area HQ and tell them to hit New Canal with everything we have available.” He put back his radio and glared at Damien. “I like you, kid, but you best not have just wasted a whole lot of people’s time.”
The visions had gone, but Damien was sure of what he had seen. It was like watching a CCTV monitor. It was happening right now.”
They waited in silence.
Steph rubbed Damien’s back. “Are you okay?”
Damien rubbed at his head, but the pain was totally gone, not even a residual ache. “Yeah, it was so… surreal. I’ve never felt anything like it. I’m used to bad dreams, but not while I’m awake.”
“Huh, you have bad dreams a lot?”
Damien was embarrassed, worried he sounded like a child. “Yeah, I’m a bit messed up. I dream about demons in the snow and all sorts of nonsense.”
Steph recoiled.
“What?” he said. “What is it?”
“I have the same dream. You dream about flames in the snow and dogs and… demons?”
Damien nodded. “Yes! How could you…”
Steph took another step back, freaked out. “I don’t know.”
Before Damien had chance to think about things, Harry’s radio screeched—at the exact same time that distant gunfire erupted.
“What is it?” Harry barked into his handset.
“We found the enemy. A shit load of them coming out of a warehouse.”
“Report. Give me a report.”
“We… we’re handling it. They never saw us coming. We just dropped a third before we even engaged. I…”
Gunfire increased in the city, a hundred soldiers unleashing at once.
“We… we’ve beaten them back. They’re running. Hey… they have people with them. He have civilians.”
Harry looked up at Damien, his eyes wide. Back into his handset, he spoke evenly. “Are the civilians okay?”
“Erm… yes, I think so. There’s about thirty people here and they all seem okay. I estimate the number of enemy casualties at north of fifty. We… we really kicked their arses. Where did you get the Intel?”
Harry sighed. “I’m not quite sure. Keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
Harry ended the call and kept his eyes on Damien. “How the Hell did you know?”
He shook his head. “Honestly, I have no idea.”
Everyone in the room was looking at him, soldiers and civilians—all strangers. They looked at him with fear.
“Can you see the future?” Steph asked.
“Of course not.”
“Then how?”
“You better start giving me some answers, lad,” said Harry. “You expect me to believe you just took a lucky guess?”
“It wasn’t a guess, I knew. But I don’t know how I knew. I did a good thing. I helped. So stop staring at me like I’m dangerous.”
Harry took a step towards him, keeping their eyes locked. “Anything I don’t understand is dangerous, do you understand?”
Damien frowned, went to speak but didn’t.
“What is it?” Harry demanded.
“I… I was sure we had met before for a moment there. That we were friends.”
Harry grabbed his collar. “Are you playing games with me?”
“No!” Damien shoved the soldier away from him. “Fuck you! I’m just trying to help.”
“Then give some bloody answers I can understand.”
“He doesn’t have the answers,” said a new voice in the room with a faint Irish twang. “Lad doesn’t even know who he is.”
The whole room spun to see a disheveled man at the edge of the room. He had messy brown hair and a smile on his face. The soldier pointed their weapons. The civilians muttered in confusion.
“Who the Hell are you?” Harry demanded, pointing his own rifle.
The stranger stepped forward, both hands out in front of him. “The name’s Lucas, and you have my boy there. None of you have any idea quite how important he is.”
“Are you talking about me?” asked Damien.
Lucas smiled. “Yes, you and all the other Damien Banks’.”
Damien cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, what?”
Lucas just smiled.
Bonus Stories
By Stuart Keane
Stuart Keane is a person who, at a very young age, fell in love with the written word.
“People ask me why I enjoy books. Sometimes, I remain speechless. I know many people who have never read a book (they do exist) and trying to explain this simple, yet amazing pastime to them is never easy. It’s pretty difficult in fact. I think comparing movies and books is needless because they are two completely different experiences. However, until you experience both, describing them never really does them justice.
This comparison has probably gone on for decades. I read my first adult book when I was seven – no need to blame the folks, I took it from the bookshelf and hid it under my bed until I was done. This was years after seeing my first film but the experience, where new and terrifying (in a good way), was something else entirely. I remember being stuck on one page – for those who are curious, the book was Flesh by Richard Laymon, an excellent yet under appreciated horror writer – for half an hour because the detail in the scene was so vivid. I actually remember him describing an abandoned restaurant and I didn’t want to continue. It was that real to me that I felt I was actually there. Continuing to read would take me into the restaurant and because of previous events in the book, you knew it was a very bad idea. It’s probably the reason I scream at dumb characters in the horror movies. “Don’t go in there” – indeed.
This was my first memory of the written word. It’s remained with me since and probably always will. Many authors have that defining moment when they realised they wanted to write horror fiction for a living. This is mine and has shaped my life ever since.
So who is Stuart Keane?
Just an ordinary guy who likes to write thrilling, compelling stories. For thirty years, people have enthralled me, entertained me and provided me with many, many adventures. And inspiration. Now, I want to return the favour.
You can get in touch with Stuart at StuartKeane/Facebook.
The Tale of Sadie Baker
By Stuart Keane
“What's the time?"
Alex flicked his wrist, checked his watch, a gold Rolex, and smirked. "Just after eight. We've got hours yet."
"We have class in the morning," replied Mike, a hint of trepidation in his voice.
"You're telling me you need to attend? I can guarantee those scholarships, my Dad's money will see to that. Chill out a little, have another beer." Alex held two fingers outstretched with a fresh bottle between them.
"No thanks, I'm driving. Or did that skip your attention?"
"Okay, chill. Man, you can be a downright pussy sometimes."
"A downright pussy who drives sensibly and doesn’t get a DUI in the middle of a scholarship…I don’t see the issue here."
Both boys remained silent. The car rolled smoothly on. Outside the Mercedes, the dusk passed them quietly, the purple and orange clouds casting a somber, but beautiful glow on the earth below it. Mike turned the vehicle around a gradual bend. The silhouettes of several unidentified trees scratched at the night sky, passing silently.
"Fancy a six pack?" Mike asked, darting his eyes from the road to the rearview mirror and back again.
"We have one here. You just said you didn’t want any beer."
"No, not beer. I mean from Donut Diner. I could murder one of their six treat boxes. Some coffee would be good too, since we're going to be up la
te."
"I didn’t bring my wallet," Alex lied.
"No worries. It's my idea. My treat."
"I'm so in," Alex smiled.
The Mercedes steered into a second bend. The foliage started to thin out until hardly any greenery remained and the tree line gave way to the beautiful night sky. The boys could see down into the canyon, protected by only a road barrier and common sense.
Something caught Alex's attention.
"Hey, Mike?"
"Yep?"
"Pull over here."
Mike nodded and did as instructed, bringing the car to a slow. The vehicle halted on the loose gravel layby, its tires crunching loudly in the silent, evening air. He put the car in park and turned to his friend. "What is it?"
"I just wanted to stop for a second."
"Why?"
"Don’t you recognise this place, this road?"
"They all look the same to me."
"Man, you're such a loser."
"Unless you explain why, I'm going to smack you in the teeth and leave you on the road."
"Whoa, whoa. Okay. Hold this." Alex handed his half-empty beer to Mike and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Come on, put the beer in a cup holder or something and get!"
Mike sighed. Asshole.
Both boys climbed from the car, smooth clunks sounded as both doors opened and let in the cool, chilly air. Alex's loafers crunched gravel once more as he rounded the Mercedes and placed a hand on the warm hood. His other hand lifted into the gloom and pointed. "Over there…that's where it happened."
Mike walked to his friend and squinted, gazing into the blackness. The purple and orange clouds had subsided now, leaving them in near darkness. As he squinted, a streetlight flickered to life, barely breaking a streak through the gloom. Mike returned to the car and leaned in the driver door. Alex chuckled. "You pussy."
The headlights illuminated the sight before them, sending stark rays of brightness onto the road and its surrounding features. Mike returned with a smirk on his face. "At least we can see…now, what was you saying?"
Legion: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel (Hell on Earth Book 2) Page 28
