The Gates: An Apocalyptic Novel

by Iain Rob Wright

  Keith was in the hallway making calls of his own. It was obvious from his expression that Marcy still wasn’t answering. Rick felt for him. Not knowing if his wife and son were okay must have been torture. Once again, it made Rick wonder why his brother was there.

  A beeping sound brought everyone into the entrance hallway. Rick knew it was the security system, and he went to the control panel on the wall. The video feed had switched on, activated by the proximity sensors on the gate. The security floodlight bathed the driveway in a spooky yellow-green glow.

  It made the dead men look like ghosts.

  Rick counted the demons outside the gate and covered his mouth in horror. “There must be two dozen of them out there. Enough to bring down the gate.”

  “Okay, everybody,” said Keith, “get whatever you can to defend yourselves. We’re going to keep our heads down and hope they don’t find out we’re in here.”

  Daniel elbowed Rick in the ribs and whispered, “Ain’t this your gaff, mate?”

  Rick shrugged. Nothing Keith said was wrong, but he did have one thing to add: “If they do get in here, there’s no way out except the gate, but Steven has put the step ladder in the conservatory. If we have to make a run for it, we can set it up against the back fence and climb over. We might be able to escape without them seeing us.”

  “We should just run,” said Diane.

  Maddy was the first to shake her head. “And go where? No, if we can stay hidden, then we’d be stupid to leave. It’s the middle of the night. They might not even have seen us.”

  Keith clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention back on him. “We all know about the stepladder. If we need to make a run for it, then it’s there, but things haven’t come to that yet. The lower floor is barricaded, and we can defend ourselves—we proved that back at the pub. We’re okay for now.”

  “I don’t think there’s any doubt about them knowing we’re in here,” said Rick. He prodded the LCD screen with his finger and showed them all what he was seeing. The demons outside, a mixture of burned humans and hunched-over creatures, glared through the bars at the house. They were so unwavering in their focus, so intent on their staring, that there was no question that they knew somebody was inside.

  “They’re just standing there,” said Maddy. “It’s like they don’t want to touch the gate.”

  Rick nodded. She was right. The demons were half a foot away from the bars, but would approach no further. It was as if there was an invisible force field keeping them at bay.

  Steven leant forward, closer to the screen. “They could climb over it if they tried, but they’re not trying. Why?”

  “It’s the iron bars,” said Daniel.

  Everybody looked at him.

  “What?” Rick asked.

  “The seals I told you about in the book. They were forged from iron. God created a substance toxic to anything not of earth and used it to make the seals. He also placed iron in the blood of man to help prevent evil from inhabiting us.”

  “You mean, like possession?” asked Diane.

  “Yeah, possession. Anyway, non-earthly creatures are allergic to iron. They can’t cross a barrier made from it.”

  “The fire pokers are iron too,” said Keith, “but it didn’t kill them outright.”

  “No,” admitted Rick. “But it hurt them. Perhaps iron is only truly effective as a barrier. It keeps evil spirits out of our bodies, and it’s been keeping the demons trapped in Hell via the seal stones. Maybe it’s-”

  Maddy finished for him. “Keeping the bastards out of your house via the old fashioned fence.”

  Keith folded his arms. “Well, well, well, it looks like we may have had the fortune to wander into the one safe place in town. I knew there was a reason you wasted so much money on this old house, Rick.”

  “I obviously knew that somewhere down the line I’d need to seek refuge from an army of demons. Thought I’d be prepared.”

  Everyone laughed, and Keith bristled again. He was straight-faced as he spoke. “We know nothing for sure, so let’s just stick to the plan. Everybody keep their heads down, and be ready. Even if we’re safe, we can’t stay here forever, unless my brother has a garage full of supplies hidden amongst all of his unsold albums.”

  Rick wanted to reply with something devastating, but nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept an eye on the security monitor and watched the demons outside. Part of him wished he was stuck inside with one of them instead of his older brother.

  ~TONY CROSS~

  Eastern Plateau, Syria

  Without vehicles for shade, the men were exhausted within an hour, and they slowed down just a few miles into Syria. Harris had got so hot that he had pulled out his combat knife and cut the sleeves off his shirt. But when night had fallen, they had faced a new set of problems: In the early hours, the desert froze, and the men had needed to clutch themselves to keep warm, hours after sweating profusely. They kept on walking long into the night, trying to put as much distance between them and the gate as they could. Now that it was almost dawn, they were looking forward to the brief window of temperate weather that morning would bring.

  “I did not think I would live to see the sun rise,” said Aymun, the leader of the ISN trio that now marched side by side with seven British soldiers.

  Ellis had been unfailingly polite to the Syrian rebels since rescuing them, and he was no different now. “I thought quite the same for a moment there, Aymun. That was quite a hairy situation we escaped.”

  Aymun looked confused. He plucked at his dirty black fringe. “Hairy?”

  Tony sighed. “He means we were in the shit.”

  Aymun nodded. “I understand shit. Situation very bad. Allah has sent his servants to punish us.”

  “Don’t start on that,” said Tony. “I don’t believe your Allah sent a bunch of monsters to kill us in the desert. I’m sure he has more efficient means.”

  “Allah prefers to test, not punish. If we die, it is because we stop fighting.”

  Tony grunted. “Do you believe that about your own men? You lost more than a dozen back at the border.”

  A glimmer of sadness flowed through Aymun’s face, but he quickly went back to being expressionless. “They are in the next life, rewarded for their bravery.”

  “Some reward,” said Tony.

  Silence followed them for the next hour while the sun rose inch by inch above the horizon. They found a dirt road, and the walking got a little easier, and when they came upon a stream, they decided to set up camp. Ellis quickly upset the men by insisting they share their rations with the three ISN soldiers. Morale had been low ever since.

  Tony sat on his own, fiddling with the squad’s long-range radio. Ellis had tried it as soon as they’d made it into Syria, but had not been able to get a successful link up. Communication in the desert was never great, but the majority of their unit was deployed less than a hundred miles away and should have been reachable. Yet, when Tony tried to hail them again now, he got zero response. Had another gate opened near base camp? Was the rest of the platoon dead?

  Tony wanted, more than anything, to encounter more people, even ISN. He feared what had come through that gate, and he feared what it meant for the world. If nothing else, it answered the question about whether humanity was alone. Either aliens or demons had come through that gate, and it looked like they were here to kill.

  Ellis unfolded his map and noted down the coordinates on the GPS readout from his radio. Tony sat next to him to see what the score was.

  “We’re in the middle of the desert,” Ellis told him, never failing to astound with his talent of stating the obvious. “It’s not safe for us to stay in Syria. We could head back east, but that would take us closer to that dastardly gate. Or we head south for Israel?”

  Tony shook his head. “We’d never make it through Jordan in one piece.”

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  “Turkey.”

  “But that’s north, Tony, through the desert a
nd river towns. We could meet resistance. The ISN operate in the northern regions”

  “The ISN are everywhere, but we’ll be less likely to be attacked that way than if we head south or west. The north is barren enough that we can avoid the towns. We should head for the U.S. airbase in Incirlik. If we can make it to the Turkish border, we should be able to get a ride. We should be able to make it within a week on foot, sooner if we manage to find a couple vehicles.”

  Ellis rubbed at his jaw. “A week’s march across the desert, how are we supposed to manage that?”

  Tony sighed. “Once upon a time, armies used to march thousands of miles. If we cut our rations, take as much water from this stream as we can, we’ll make it. It won’t be a pleasant trip, but any other direction and we risk getting into another firefight. I don’t know about you, but I could do without losing another bunch of lads.”

  Ellis looked at the map for several seconds, eyebrows knitted in concentration. He came up with no alternative, so nodded his head and agreed to Tony’s plan. “I will go and let the men know what they’re in for.”

  Tony looked at his Commanding Officer and tried to convey his confidence one last time, hoping it would pass through him and onto the men. “This is how we all get to live, Lieutenant. I’ll take hard and safe over easy and dangerous any day. We stick together and we’ll be fine.”

  Ellis nodded toward Aymun who was sitting on a rock with his two men. “What about them?”

  “Leave them to me.”

  Ellis seemed satisfied. “I trust you to take care of it, Staff Sergeant. Carry on.”

  While Ellis addressed the men, Tony approached the ISN. Aymun nodded to him and said, “Hello, my friend.”

  “We’re not friends, we’re enemies. That’s why you need to go your way while we go ours.”

  “You will let us go?”

  “Yes, you can even keep your weapons, but you don’t head into Iraq and you don’t follow us.”

  “Where will you go? Syria dangerous for British soldier.”

  “Not your concern.”

  “Only safe place is desert, but you never make in the heat. Summer bad. No time for walking.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Tony snapped.

  “I help you.”

  “Don’t want your help.”

  “You need my help.”

  Tony studied Aymun and tried to figure him out. He seemed genuine in his offer to help, but here also was a man who believed that infidels should be beheaded and homosexuals hanged. “Why do you want to help, Aymun? We oppose everything you stand for.”

  “I be very surprised if you know what I stand for. I stand for duty. Your men save my men, so now we help save you. You want out of country. Turkey, yes? I take you across desert, across river. Make sure your men do not burn.”

  Tony folded his arms, strangely finding himself willing to listen. “How would you help us, Aymun?”

  “I lead you to hidden ISN stockpile. Food, water, monies, yes? You can take. Payment for saving my life.”

  “How do I know you won’t turn on my men? You could lead us into a trap. We’re enemies.”

  “I think we are enemies no longer. We have new enemy to fight.”

  “The demons?”

  Aymun nodded. “Allah’s test. Perhaps he wish to bring men together by giving them mutual adversary.”

  Against his better judgement, Tony asked, “You really want to help my men?”

  “I swear it in Allah’s name. You are not my enemy. Syrian puppet government my enemy, greedy white men my enemy, demons that come through gate my enemy. You are friend.”

  “Then we should shake hands.”

  Aymun waved a hand. “Pah, white man’s gesture. For Moslem, man’s word alone good enough.”

  “Okay, you have my word that if you get us to the Turkish border, I will let you and your men go free.”

  “And you have my word that I will not kill you.”

  Tony smirked. “Good to know, Aymun.”

  From the demoralised look on the British soldier’s faces, Ellis had just delivered the bad news about their upcoming trek. They were sitting in silence, heads in hands and glancing at the featureless desert as if it were some giant, sucking hole waiting to devour them. Ellis had retired to the edge of camp and was trying the radio.

  “Still no answer?” Tony asked.

  Ellis shook his head. “It’s like there’s no one on the other end. Do you think something is going on? I mean, more than what happened to us?”

  Tony sat down beside his Commanding Officer and crossed his legs. “It seems unlikely there’d be just one of those gates in the middle of nowhere. I assume there’re more. Perhaps that’s why no one is answering our calls: they’re all busy with their own problems.”

  “I don’t want any more of my men to die, Tony.”

  “No officer ever does. Things could have gone worse, you know? We’re lucky any of us got out of there alive.”

  Ellis sighed and seemed to think about it. “Are Aymun and his men leaving soon? We should depart at the same time, or they might regroup and ambush us.”

  “No, he’s coming with us.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “We saved his life. He wants to repay the favour by helping us through the desert. There’s an ISN stockpile. He said we can have it.”

  Ellis was silent, but eventually he said. “I’ve known you a year now, Tony, and in that time I’ve never seen you make a bad decision. If you think we can trust Aymun and his men, then I will back you. Maybe if I had trusted you earlier, the ambush wouldn’t have failed so miserably.”

  “If it hadn’t of failed, we’d all be dead. We wouldn’t have got pinned behind the hill, and that gate would’ve opened right behind us. Instead, it opened on top of Aymun and his men. One thing I’ve learned about war, sir, is that it rarely goes to plan.”

  “Huh, I suppose you’re right. Maybe Allah really does have a plan for us.”

  Tony pulled around his rifle and started disassembling it to clean it—best to do it now than later. “Well, if that’s true, I’d hate to see what He has planned for us next.”

  ***

  They rested as best they could during the morning whilst the heat was mild, but it was impossible to sleep, nor were they in any position to stay, so they got moving at noon. Within half an hour of leaving the stream, they were all sweating. The desert seemed to swallow them up, stretching on forever in every direction.

  Aymun led the way with his men, Ellis and Tony a step behind. The three Syrians chatted in Arabic, but Tony caught the odd word or two. They were discussing the gate and what had come through. That was good; much better than them discussing a plot against their current travelling companions. Tony reminded himself that the man was an extremist. It would be unwise to let down his guard.

  “We must walk one day before we find supplies,” Aymun told them. “We go slow like snails, or we will not last out the sun.”

  “How’re you sure the supplies are still there?” Ellis asked him.

  “Because only I and my men know about it. They all dead now except Majd and Sayid, so will be more than enough to get us to Turkish border.”

  “Good, good,” Ellis cooed. “Thank you once again for your help, Aymun.”

  Tony grunted and gave Ellis a look that screamed shut up. It was one thing to accept the help of the ISN soldiers, but another to kiss their arses. The men would lose confidence in their Commanding Officer if they thought he was pandering to the enemy. Although a majority of the ISN had fallen to the monsters from the gate, most of the British casualties had been at the hands of Aymun’s men. Nothing would make them friends, however much they acted otherwise.

  Tony dragged back a little and fell amongst the men. The best way for a Non Commissioned Officer to learn the state of morale was to mix with the unit. It didn’t take him long to discover that the temperament of the men bordered on panic.

  “I think it’s the end of the world,” said Private Harris, his l
arge, square shoulders slumped. He’d been tossing his knife into the air for the last hour, letting it spin, and then catching it. The repetitive action spoke of a taught mind. “Those things came right from Hell. We all saw it.”

  Corporal Rose, a ginger-headed Scot, agreed. “Aye, they was demons all right. I hope for them they didn’t open a gate in the centre of Glasgow. They’ll piss themselves and run right back to Hell if they see some of the local split arses on a Friday night.”

  The men laughed. It was good to have a man like Rose in the unit—a guy incapable of taking any situation too seriously. The corporal could be bleeding from his neck and still crack jokes about not letting the alcohol in his blood go to waste.

  Private Harris noticed Tony walking nearby and quickly shut up, averted his gaze. It was bad form to complain on a tour—dangerous as much as it was insubordinate—and one man with a negative attitude could affect an entire unit, demotivate it into a listless squabble of unshaven men. Harris had been caught out, but there was little reason to blame him too much. They had all been through Hell, literally.

  “We all know that the situation is fucked up, Harris,” Tony said, “but we survived, didn’t we? You all went up against a bunch of monsters and lived to tell the tale. We saw them bleed; we watched them die. Don’t let them scare you because you don’t understand them. Wars are lost through fear. By the end of the Vietnam War, the Yanks were terrified to take one step in that jungle, but that won’t happen to us. We’re British soldiers, and we have ourselves an enemy. Our job is to kill it. The men we left back there in the desert are relying on us to feed those ugly fucks their own bollocks—and we will, I promise you.”

  A jubilant cheer roared from the men, which made Ellis and Aymun glance back over their shoulders. Ellis seemed bemused, not understanding what was happening behind him, but the ISN leader seemed to understand, and gave Tony a nod. The men would be looking to Tony for courage. If he was afraid, they would be afraid. It was his duty to show bravery and set an example, but the truth was that he was more afraid than he’d ever been. How long could he keep up the brave face? If he faltered, his men would die—for they were his men, not Ellis’s.