by Tim Ellis
A woman said through her tears, ‘I don’t know if I can kill my own daughter.’
‘Sarah Swindells,’ Michael said. ‘You know me – I’ve helped you up with your shopping a couple of times. You know I wouldn’t lie to you. If you don’t kill your daughter, then she’ll kill you, the people standing next to you, the people behind you, and she’ll keep killing until someone stops her. You can’t afford to think of these creatures as your kin – they’re not – they’re the enemy.’
A younger man with an unruly mass of ginger hair and freckles said, ‘We’re not going to be arrested when this is all over, are we?’
‘Hiya, Mally,’ Michael said. ‘You all know Mally Haynes from the twenty-ninth floor?’
People nodded.
‘I’ll be surprised if there’s going to be many of us left standing after this, Mally. I don’t pretend to know why this is happening here and now, or who’s behind it all . . . except maybe the Satan. I just know right from wrong. My mom taught me that, and I’d be doing her a disservice if I didn’t fight for what was right. Letting the forces of darkness take over our building can’t be right, so we have to stop them – it’s that simple. Are you with me now?’
There was no blood-curdling response, but the gathering agreed to follow Michael’s lead.
‘How do you kill them?’ a teenage girl with a ponytail and goofy teeth asked.
‘Kitty Wall, people,’ Michael said, pointing to her.
Kitty’s face turned a bright red.
‘Where’s your mum and dad, Kitty?’
‘They got taken.’
‘Sorry to hear that. As I said, I killed my mum by sticking an iron bar through her chest. Whether that’s the only way . . . He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. What I can tell you, and Detective Kline will back me up on this, is that knocking them unconscious ain’t going to work. Two of them followed us, and we had to beat them back. Even though we pummelled them good and proper, it didn’t make no difference. They pulled back, but they didn’t stop. What I think, is that you have to stab them in the heart, or chop their heads off.’
‘That’s a bit gruesome,’ a short fat man said.
Michael’s brow creased. ‘It’s a lot gruesome . . .’
‘Mick Pendleton,’ the man said. ‘Me and the Missus haven’t long moved in.’
‘Well, Mick. I’m sure that once we start killing the enemy, people will find other . . . probably less gruesome and more efficient ways of stopping them, but that’s all I’ve got for now.’
He nodded. ‘Thanks.’
There didn’t seem to be any more questions.
‘Okay, unless someone has got a brilliant plan up their sleeve, this is what I suggest . . .’ He looked around. Nobody spoke up. Even Ken Coxon said nothing. ‘The stairs and the lifts are controlled by the enemy, which is a problem because they can get behind us at any time, but we have the maintenance shaft and the access panels. I need two people to force the lift doors open. If we can’t . . .
‘I have a key,’ Coxon said.
‘And you’ve just thought to tell us?’ Kline turned on him.
He didn’t respond.
Kline held her hand open.
Coxon gave her the key.
‘I’ll lock the lifts off,’ she said.
‘Good. If we can’t use them, then neither can the enemy now. We need to start from here and work our way down. I suggest two teams leapfrogging each other. Every flat and every room is to be cleared . . .’
A woman in her thirties with wild eyes said, ‘Lesley Connor from the third floor. What if there are people holed up in the flats?’
‘Bring them along. If you leave them, then they can be used by the enemy to attack us from behind. The task will be hard enough without having to keep looking over our shoulders.’
The woman nodded.
‘I’ll lead one team and Kline can lead the other. We can accumulate weapons as we go. Are there any more questions?’
Nobody had any.
‘Okay, before we start, just remember . . . if you hesitate you’ll be killed. Work in pairs, and look after each other. This is a war. There are no winners or losers, only survivors. Make sure you’re a survivor.’
The available people were split into two teams of twenty-three, ferried out of the penthouse apartment and up the stack of furniture into the maintenance shaft. Michael and his team would take the even floors, and Kline’s team the odd.
‘Good luck, Michael,’ Kline said.
‘In the movies, the hero gets a kiss from the woman he loves before he goes into battle.’
She smiled as she hauled herself up into the shaft again. ‘Yeah, I read that somewhere as well.’
***
Naamah used one of the two lifts to get down to the lower basement.
‘So the lift does work?’
‘It works when I say it works.’
‘Of course.’ He wished he had a pair of trousers, shorts or a loincloth on. Striding around with his phallus knocking on his thighs for all to see was not ideal. He hoped he didn’t come across Kline – that would just be awful. How could an Inspector maintain discipline if his subordinate saw him naked? Also, if he bent over, which he hoped not to do anytime soon, the people behind him had an unrestricted view of his tonsils.
The lift doors opened and the chanting began.
‘Naamah, Naamah, Naamah.’
She walked among them like a messiah. ‘Are you prepared?’
‘Yes, Naamah.’
‘They want to close my gate – what do we say to that?’
‘No.’
‘They want to kill us all – what do we say to that?’
‘No.’
‘They want to confine us to Hell – what do we say to that?’
‘No.’
Quigg was getting bored. He looked around the gathering, but he couldn’t see any nymphs. Where had Naamah hidden the nymphs? A couple of nymphs would be very welcome about now. All this talk of fighting and killing was not what a healthy satyr wanted to hear.
Was he still Quigg? He guessed he wasn’t. He smiled as he imagined bounding into the station as he was. Would they recognise him?
‘So, showing your true nature at last, Quigg,’ the Chief would say.
Mandy’s eyes would nearly pop from her head. ‘Spector Quigg. Is that what you used to get all those women preggers?’
No, he could never go back to being DI Quigg looking like he did – the Met didn’t employ satyrs. He was Naamah’s plaything now. Well, he only had himself to blame. Having sex with every woman who fluttered their eyelashes at him – he was a satyr.
It looked like Naamah’s soldiers were leaving.
‘Where are they going?’ he asked.
‘To fight for me. The enemy are coming.’
He looked around. ‘You mentioned a gate?’
‘There are seven gates that provide entry and exit to Hell. I am the guardian of the seventh gate.’
‘And that’s here?’
She walked towards the rear of the basement. A three-headed dog snarled at him.
‘This is Cerberus, my faithful hellhound.’ She pointed to a pair of solid gold gates behind the monstrous dog. ‘Those are my gates.’
‘Your gates?’
‘Well, not mine exactly – they belong to Lucifer, but they’re mine to guard for him.’
The gates were engraved with beasts, monsters, etc. Over the top of the gates was an inscription:
All hope abandon, ye who enter here.
‘It doesn’t sound very welcoming.’
‘That’s because it’s Hell.’
‘I guess. So, we’re not allowed to have any fun in Hell?’
‘Fun? You mean sex?’
‘That’s part of it, I suppose.’
‘You’ve been condemned to Hell because of all the sex you’ve had on Earth. Your punishment is to never have sex again.’
He gulped. ‘I can’t have sex?’
‘Officially – no. All th
e other satyrs are sexless, but I felt sorry for you, so I’ve taken you under my wing.’
‘And I get to have sex with you?’
‘Lots of sex. There’s got to be some perks to the job.’
‘I see. I’m a perk?’
‘Or you could join the other satyrs?’
‘No! I’m very grateful for your patronage.’
‘And you’ll be showing me how grateful soon.
***
‘Wake up, Sir.’
He opened his eyes. ‘What happened?’
‘The bastards threw a brick. It hit you on the head and knocked you unconscious. An ambulance is on its way.’
‘I ducked.’
‘Not low enough.’
He sat up. ‘I’m all right.’
‘Yeah – right. I didn’t know you had a medical degree as well.’
‘We have a murder to investigate.’
‘No we don’t.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Some government people have arrived and put the place under quarantine. Nobody can go in or out.’
‘Why?’
‘They’re saying it’s a virus, but you know how those bastards lie. It could be the gateway to Hell for all we know.’
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Thank you for choosing and reading my book. If you enjoyed it, I would be grateful if you could write a review and post it on Amazon.co.uk and/or Amazon.com.
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About the Author
Tim Ellis was born in the bowels of Hammersmith Hospital, London, on a dark and stormy night, grew up in Cheadle, Cheshire, and now lives in Essex with his wife and four Shitzus. In-between, he joined the Royal Army Medical Corps at eighteen and completed twenty-two years service, leaving in 1993 having achieved the rank of Warrant Officer Class 1 (Regimental Sergeant Major). Since then he has worked in secondary education as a senior financial manager, in higher education as an associate lecturer/tutor at Lincoln and Anglia Ruskin Universities, and as a consultant for the National College of School Leadership. His final job, before retiring to write fiction full time in 2009, was as Head and teacher of Behavioural Sciences (Psychology/Sociology) in a secondary school. He has a PhD and an MBA in Educational Management, and an MA in Education.
Discover other titles by Tim Ellis at http://timellis.weebly.com/
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Warrior: Path of Destiny
Warrior: Scourge of the Steppe
The Knowledge of Time: Second Civilisation
Orc Quest Book I: Prophecy
Solomon’s Key
Jacob’s Ladder
The Gordian Knot
Raga Man (Short Story)
As You Sow, So Shall You Reap (Novella)
A Life for a Life
The Wages of Sin
The Flesh is Weak
The Shadow of Death
His Wrath is Come
The Breath of Life
The Dead Know Not
Be Not Afraid
The House of Mourning
Through a Glass Darkly
A Lamb to the Slaughter
Footprints of the Dead
The Twelve Murders of Christmas (Novella)
Body 13
The Graves at Angel Brook
The Skulls Beneath Eternity Wharf
The Terror at Grisly Park
The Haunting of Bleeding Heart Yard
The Enigma of Apocalypse Heights (Novella)
Dark Christmas (Novella)
Collected Short Stories/Poetry/Anthologies/Non-fiction
Untended Treasures
Where do you want to go today?
Winter of my Heart (Poetry)
With Love Project – The Occupier
The Killing Sands (Anthology)
The Writer’s A-Z of Body Language (Non-fiction)
Summer of my Soul (Poetry)
First Shots (Anthology)
Also planned for 2014/2015:
Mortis Obscura: Scavenger of Souls (Farthing & Trask 1)
The Timekeeper's Apprentice
Silent in the Grave (Parish & Richards 12)
Orc Quest Book II: The Last Human
Whispers of the Dead (Tom Gabriel 2)
The Sword of Damocles (Stone & Randall 3)
The Song of Solomon (Harte & KP 2)
Dark Matter (Josiah Dark 2)
The Corpse at Highgate Cemetery (Quigg 8)
