Wasteland in Red Square (Hell Gate Book 2)

by Josh Matthews

  Jason looked at the others on his team to see if he had misunderstood Zhirinovsky. The confusion and concern on their faces confirmed he had heard correctly.

  “Did I hear the general right? Did he say there’s a second Hell Gate?”

  Zhirinovsky questioned Melnikov. The two men talked for a few seconds. The general pointed toward Jason and sat back down. Melnikov waited for everyone else to take their seat before answering.

  “Yes, there is second vrata. It’s in Siberia, near Lake Baikal.”

  “You have to be mistaken,” said Neal. “When the accident occurred at Protvino and formed an entry portal, it should have created only one exit portal.”

  “It did. We created second portal when we used nuclear device against one in Red Square.”

  “How?”

  Melnikov shrugged. “I don’t know science behind it. Ustagov thinks portion of nuclear blast that occurred against surface was channeled through vrata and blew out another exit vrata in Siberia.”

  “Are you sure the detonation in Red Square caused it?” Jason asked.

  “Yes. We had expedition in Siberia searching for survivors. They were in area when new vrata was formed. Expedition noted date and time, and it matched detonation of nuclear device in Red Square.”

  “Is it an exit or entry portal?”

  “It’s exit portal. By time our expedition arrived at location, several mertvyye demony had crossed through. Last time we sent recon mission to vrata, they reported most of demony in area were ravagers.”

  Slava slammed his hand on the table top. “Damn it. Why didn’t you tell us this earlier?”

  Melnikov tried to hide his embarrassment. “As general said few minutes ago, we weren’t sure if stories we heard about Paris were true or just rumors. We wanted to wait and see if you really had found way to shut them. Besides, several of us were worried if you found out about second vrata you might not be willing to help us.”

  “That’s insane,” said Slava.

  “When you live so near to vrata, sometimes first casualty is rationality.”

  The dining hall went quiet. All eyes focused on Jason. He remained silent because, if he spoke, he could easily say something he would regret. Taking a deep breath, he held it for several seconds and exhaled slowly. The tightness in his chest eased a little. Jason took another deep breath, only this time he slowly poured himself a shot of vodka, using the gesture to fill empty space. He was furious at the Russians for not being forthright with him, although given the circumstances he could empathize with their trepidation. Although he understood the Russian’s concerns about keeping the second gate secret out of fear his team might not help, it irked Jason that the Russians had so little trust in them. Of course, he probably would not have put so much faith in his hosts if his team had not been so desperate for support. Jason also chastised himself for allowing himself to believe his mission would be this easy. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Jason swigged the vodka. This time it did not have the same soothing effect as the previous shots.

  Zhirinovsky gave Jason time to make his decision. After thirty seconds of silence he asked in heavily accented English, “Will you help us?”

  Jason met the general’s gaze. “Da.”

  “Spasibo,” replied Zhirinovsky.

  “How are we going to pull this off?” Slava asked.

  “We have an extra device that Doc created, so we should have enough to complete our mission.”

  “As long as we don’t run into any more surprises.” Slava glared disapprovingly at Melnikov.

  “And as long as all the devices work properly,” Neal added.

  “Enough,” barked Jason. “I know you’re all disappointed to find out that there’s another Hell Gate to contend with. We all went into this realizing it wouldn’t be easy.”

  Jeanette reached out and clasped his hand. “I’m not complaining, but you do realize it’s a long way to Siberia?”

  “We’re going to have to go through Siberia anyway to get to China and Japan.”

  “Don’t worry about getting to Lake Baikal,” said Melnikov. “We have transportation that will get you there in few days. Meet in front of general’s office at six tomorrow evening. It’ll all be taken care of.”

  “Damn,” said Slava to no one in particular. “Don’t tell me we’re going to have to spend more time in those shitty buses.”

  Melnikov chuckled. “Don’t worry, comrade. You’ll be traveling to Siberia in first class accommodations.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The news about the existence of a second Hell Gate had destroyed the celebratory mood last night. Too bad it didn’t have the same impact on hangovers. Thanks to five shots of vodka, Jason had fallen into a deep sleep ten minutes after climbing into his bunk and did not wake up until well into the afternoon, giving him less than three hours to get ready. At least breakfast would not be a concern. Between the dry, furry sensation in his mouth, the heavy weight in the pit of his stomach, and the pounding headache, Jason did not want a heavy meal. He opted for two scrambled eggs and several strips of bacon, most of which he passed under the table to Lucifer and Lilith. He hoarded the three cups of black coffee for himself. Jason then went back to his quarters to pack and shower. By the time he left, he felt somewhat better.

  As Jason approached Zhirinovsky’s office, he realized that Melnikov had not been joking about providing first class accommodations to Siberia. A train sat on the siding in front of the main building. Jason counted eleven cars in total. At the front were four sleeper cars and a dining coach. The windows on each were protected by steel bars welded onto the outer surface. Next were two stock cars, also protected by metal plates attached to the roof and outer surface. Russian soldiers were loading the team’s horses onto these, with Sook-kyoung overseeing the effort and giving each horse a reassuring pet. Two baggage cars followed, which were being loaded with supplies, as well as a sleeper that Russian troops climbed aboard. The last car in line remained a mystery. Similar in appearance to a caboose, it had reinforced steel plates covering the exterior walls and four makeshift doors built into each flank. A pair of Russian soldiers stood guard outside, each armed with an AK-47.

  What attracted Jason’s interest were the twin steam engines and coal tenders. They were massive, almost fifty feet in length with a 2-10-2 wheel configuration. The lead engine was painted black except for the wheels, trimming, cow catcher, and Soviet star mounted on the front, which were all painted red. A metal platform five feet square had been welded onto the top of the cow catcher, extending three feet beyond its tip and reinforced with steel rod supports. The platform served as the base for a triangular cage that ended in a point below the headlight mounted on the boiler. Three thick leather straps were attached to the platform. Behind the front engine sat a second one similar in size and design, only this one was covered in armor. Steel plates protected the crew cab and formed a seven-sided polygon around the boiler while a series of plates shielded the wheels. The engine and tender were both painted in military gray. Jason noticed writing underneath the observation slit in the armor around the cab and stepped over to read it. From top to bottom in black paint was a dark silhouette of a dragon with a single vertical mark to the right, a silhouette of a golem with three vertical marks, and a silhouette of a ravager with seventeen sets of five marks.

  Jason’s team and the Purgatoriati stood by the engines, some admiring the power and design, others gawking. He walked up to Jeanette and Slava.

  “Morning,” he said, regretting he spoke so loud.

  Jeanette beamed. “Morning, hon.”

  Slava stared in awe at the engines. “Aren’t they impressive?”

  Jeanette leaned over to Jason. “More like ostentatious.”

  “Different sides of same coin, no?”

  Jeanette spun around to see Melnikov standing behind her, an impish smirk on his face. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to sound . . . um . . . ”

  Melnikov laughed
. “Don’t worry. You’re more on mark than my Russian friend here. Colonel Krayevsky is train commander. Been all over Russia, Belarus, and Ukraine searching for survivors and battling more demony than any of us here have seen. Train functional, but colonel feel if going to go into battle then should be able to do so like . . . how you Americans say . . . eh, like a boss.”

  “How are old these engines?” Slava asked.

  “Older than you and me. These are LV class locomotives, made by Soviet Union back in late 1950s. Second engine was being refurbished here when we took over rail yard. Krayevsky had it outfitted with armor plating and took it out on rescue runs. Three months ago, we found first engine in working condition as tourist attraction in Caucasus and commandeered it. We’ve not had chance to upgrade it yet, but we don’t need to for this mission.”

  “What exactly is our mission?” Haneef asked as he joined the group.

  “To close other vrata.”

  “I mean, what are the details of the plan to do that?”

  “We have plenty of time on trip to go over and revise them.”

  “How long will it take to get there?” Jeanette asked.

  Melnikov did the calculations in his head. “About two and a half days. We’ll arrive around mid-morning.”

  Slava pointed toward the rear of the train. “What’s going on there?”

  A pair of Russian soldiers escorted eight men and women toward the last car in line. They wore uniforms stripped of insignia. Each had their hands cuffed together in front of them and their right legs shackled to a long chain. As they approached the end of the car, one of the two soldiers standing guard opened the door and placed a wooden set of stairs in front of it. He helped the men and women enter as the other soldiers kept an eye on them.

  “They are prisoners,” Melnikov answered.

  “What crimes did they commit?” Jeanette asked.

  “Serious offenses. Murder, rape, stealing food or supplies.”

  “What’s going to happen to them?” Jeanette asked.

  The captain ignored the question. He pointed to the sleeper cars, starting with the last two in line. “They are for Russian units that’ll be accompanying us. It’ll be same platoon that escorted you into Moscow. This second is reserved for your team. You should be quite comfortable. First sleeper belongs to Colonel Krayevsky. It serves both as personal quarters and command car.”

  “Will you be going with us?” Jason asked.

  “Of course, my friend. I wouldn’t miss this for anything. Colonel is in charge of overall mission. I command ground unit.” A commotion came from the direction of Zhirinovsky’s office. Melnikov pointed in that direction. “Here comes colonel now.”

  Zhirinovsky exited his quarters talking with a woman whom Jason guessed to be in her early thirties. She was tall, approximately six feet in height. Chest-length silky red hair flowed from under a black fur cap that bore the red star and gold hammer and sickle of the former Soviet Union. She wore the same camouflage uniform of the other Russian soldiers accessorized with black leather boots that came up to her knees and a gray wool overcoat with a black fur collar. A 9mm Makarov pistol hung from a utility belt against her right hip and a saber on her left. Two things struck Jason about this woman. First, her bearing, a blend of confidence and audaciousness tinged with showmanship. Second, her face, for she possessed a natural beauty between her sensuous, pouty lips and soulful blue eyes. The only physical feature that detracted from her attractiveness was the scar that ran from the center of her forehead, across her left eye, and part way down her left cheek, the central portion covered with a black eye patch.

  Zhirinovsky whispered something to the woman that made her eyes widen. As they approached, the woman stepped over to Jason.

  “General Zhirinovsky says you’re Jason McCreary, and that you’re the one who closed the vratas in Paris and Moscow. Is that true?”

  “My team and I did.”

  The woman nodded her approval. “I like this one. He’s modest and cares about his men. Let me introduce myself. I’m Colonel Svetlana Yakolevna Krayevsky of the Russian Army.”

  “You’re Colonel Krayevsky?”

  “You were expecting some dowdy old timer or a by-the-book officer?”

  “To tell you the truth, yes.”

  The colonel laughed. “And you’re brutally honest. We’re going to work well together.”

  “I hope so, Colonel.”

  “You can call me Svetlana.” She winked at him and then caught the captain’s attention. “Melnikov, I have to oversee the final preparations before departure. Show Jason’s team to their cabins and let them get settled in. We leave in half an hour.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Svetlana faced Zhirinovsky and saluted, and then headed toward the lead sleeping car. She addressed Jason while walking backward. “Someday the world is going to write songs about us. They will either be praising us for saving the world from going to Hell, or they will be ballads about how we died gloriously fighting for the cause. Let’s make sure it’s not the latter.”

  As Svetlana proceeded to the command car, Melnikov stepped toward the three sleepers in front of them. “Let me show you where you’ll be bunking down for trip.”

  Jeanette stepped past Jason and flashed him a disapproving glare. “I can see the next two and a half days are going to be real fun.”

  ***

  Jason sat on the bench in his private cabin in the lead sleeper car, with the werehounds curled up at his feet. He had stowed his gear and the four remaining anti-matter devices in the storage compartment above his bunk and settled down to enjoy the ride. The sun rested low in the sky, casting long shadows across the train yard. Jason considered lighting the candles in the wall-mounted candelabra by the door, but he did not have the energy. Instead, he stared out the window, lost in thought and dozing off. The blare of the engine’s steam whistle cut through the silence, jarring him awake. A moment later, the train lurched forward and sluggishly picked up speed. Lucifer and Lilith jumped up and stared out the window, their tails wagging. Never having traveled in this manner before, they were fascinated by the sensation. Jason checked his watch. Seven o’clock on the dot. He didn’t know whether to attribute that to traditional military efficiency or Svetlana’s flare for the dramatic. A few seconds passed, and the train left the yard and proceeded through the countryside.

  Unlike Mont St. Michel, no community of survivors flourished outside the Russian compound. As far as he could determine, only the Russian military that had established itself in Domodedovo lived in the region. Being so near to ground zero, the civilian population could have fled the area for safer ground, been recruited by the military, or been wiped out by the Hell Spawn. Weeks after his team returned from Paris, Jacques had started to rebuild society around the island city. Jason wondered how long it would take for the same thing to happen around Moscow, or if there were enough people left in this region to do so. He wanted to come back once all the Hell Gates were closed and see how things had changed here in western Russia.

  Assuming he lived that long.

  The swaying of the train and the clickity-clack of the wheels lulled Jason. He yawned. Lucifer cocked his head in his master’s direction. Without even bothering to convert the bench into a bed, Jason spread out along its length. Lucifer walked over and curled up on the floor beside him while Lilith stared out the window, still fascinated even though she could not see anything in the dark. Jason reached down and scratched his pet behind the ears until both fell asleep.

  BOOK THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Something brushed against Jason’s forehead. At first, he ignored it, hoping it would go away. The brushing continued. Jason assumed either Lucifer or Lilith wanted attention. Without opening his eyes, he swiped his hand across his face to shoo away the offender.

  “Go lie down. I’m trying to sleep.”

  “So, I’m one of the dogs now?”

  Jason opened his eyes. Jeanette sat at on the ben
ch beside him, stroking his forehead with her left hand. She leaned forward and kissed him. “Just so you know, I don’t do tricks or play fetch.”

  “Sorry.” Jason sat up and leaned against the wall. Wrapping an arm around Jeanette’s waist, he pulled her into him. She sighed with contentment and laid her head against his chest. Lucifer sat on the floor beside him, watching the two humans, his tail wagging. Lilith lay curled up asleep on the other bench.

  “I thought you were one of them trying to wake me up. I wanted to sleep in a little before breakfast.”

  “I got news for you. It’s almost noon.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Nope.”

  Jason reached out and petted Lucifer. “These guys must be starving.”

  “No. I took them to breakfast this morning.”

  “You were here this morning and I slept through it?”

  Jeanette grinned impishly. “You looked so peaceful I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

  Jason felt his face flush. Jeanette let him off the hook. “Seriously, you needed to rest.”

  “I’m not used to drinking vodka.”

  “It’s more than that. You’ve been on the go ever since we left Mont St. Michel.”

  “We all have.”

  “We’re not bearing the burden of command.” Jeanette sat up placed her hands on his hips. Her eyes pleaded with him to listen. “You can’t take everything on yourself otherwise you’ll burn out. Then where will the rest of us be?”

  “I want to make sure as many of us walk away from this as possible.”

  “I want you to be one of them.” When Jason tried to protest, Jeanette placed her fingers against his lips. They were soft and warm. “There is nothing you can do for us for the next two days, so take it easy and recharge. I have a feeling we’re all going to have to be at our best once we reach the new portal.”

  “I will, but I—”

  “No buts.” Jeanette leaned forward and kissed him, winning the argument. “Now that is settled, are you ready for lunch?”