The Gates: An Apocalyptic Novel

by Iain Rob Wright

  Tony patted Harris on the back. “Harris, why don’t you tell the lads one of your stories. I swear you’ve had more lives than a cat.”

  Harris chuckled. “Okay, Staffie. Did I tell you about the time I ejaculated during a conversation with my mum?”

  The men laughed just at the premise.

  “No, lad. Let’s hear it.”

  “Okay, well, I was sixteen-seventeen and shagging this bird called Lisa. We was in my bedroom one Saturday afternoon, and she was underneath the duvet giving me head—the best I’ve ever had. Anyway, I’m just about to get there, getting ready to blow me load. My toes are going, and I start to moan. Lisa starts bopping up and down faster, working my balls with her hand. Then, boom! The bedroom door opens. Lisa leaps up out of the duvet just in time, as my dear old mum comes in. She wants to know what I fancy for dinner. Problem was that I had passed that point of no return. Lisa’s mouth had done the trick. So here I am, going off like a sprinkler beneath the sheets—having a giant sodding orgasm—and I have to hold a conversation with my old lady about chicken bloody Kiev. Lisa is laying next to me trying not to laugh her arse off. Anyway, the point of the story is that I blew my load while having a conversation about chicken with my mother. The moral is: always get a lock put on your fuckin’ door.”

  The men bellowed with laughter, and Tony knew he could leave them alone for a few more hours.

  ***

  They walked until nightfall, taking water breaks every hour, but even then, they were dry-mouthed and sweating. Now that night had arrived, they were all grateful to see the blazing sun recede. The men had shed their combat jackets and now wore only their webbing over their undervests. Several times, Ellis tried to hail Command on the radio, but within the cradle of the desert, their calls went unanswered.

  Tony glanced around. It wasn’t the kind of desert that would typically come to mind, with endless dunes of golden sand—only hard-packed dirt beneath his boots, ranging from dark brown to bright orange. There was the odd patch of straw-like grass here and there, but no trees and no shade. Now and then he’d glimpse movement in the distance, but could never tell if it was animal, man, or mirage. They were alone, wandering through sun-scorched oblivion.

  “We cross river between Al Mayadin and Boqruss Foqani,” Aymun informed them. “There will be trees and water. Supplies are two miles past river. There we rest tonight.”

  The men muttered contentedly. No sleep in two days had left them looking grey and unsteady on their feet. They had avoided sunburn with the use of the cream in their packs, but the heat had sapped all but their last reserves of strength. Rest was needed, and if Aymun was true to his word, they would get the chance soon. Or they would be double-crossed and murdered. Both were appealing after having marched through a desert.

  They walked for about another hour before the hard-packed dirt softened into moist soil and green grass. The river was a half mile ahead and due east of the town Al Mayadin. Tony could see some of the taller buildings on the horizon and even caught the faint sound of a car horn. They had reached civilisation, but heading into the town would be risky. There was no one overtly friendly to the West in Syria and many who vehemently opposed it. It would be too much of a lottery trying their luck there. The British had refused to help the Syrian civilians against the rebels, so why should the Syrian civilians help the British? No, they would stick to the plan and keep heading north into Turkey.

  Tony spotted the men gazing into the distance at the town and was quick to distract them. “That’s not safety over there, lads. The ISN would be on us before we ever got chance to find help.”

  The men glared at Aymun.

  Tony sighed. “We have an eye on those three and we outnumber them. If they try anything they’ll regret it.”

  The men all nodded defiantly. They were almost beaten, but they would not go down without a fight. A doomed soldier was a dangerous soldier, so let Aymun try something if he dared. Not that Tony had any reason to doubt the ISN leader. So far, Aymun had led them around the settlements and alerted them whenever traffic appeared on the seldom encountered roads. Whenever he spoke, he did so in a friendly manner and showed no sign of contempt. Every bone in Tony’s body told him not to trust the man, but somehow he was starting to. He hoped he didn’t end up regretting it.

  They made it to the river. The moon was full, making the water appear as a twinkling silver strip. Tony stooped down on the bank and cupped water over his neck, giving permission for the men to do the same. They all lined up and cooled themselves down, drinking until they were full. The water was clean and fresh-tasting and led Tony to wonder what the Thames would taste like.

  “Should we camp here?” Ellis asked, deferring to Aymun.

  “No, we cross first, find supply cache.”

  Ellis needed to show authority, so Tony tried to help him. “Unless you want to camp here, Lieutenant? It’s your decision.”

  Ellis stuttered. “O-of course… erm, no, I think it would be wise to locate the supply cache first. We can rest after.”

  Tony saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  Ellis returned the salute. “As you were, Staff Sergeant. See if you can find a good spot to cross the river.”

  “No need,” said Aymun. “I know place.”

  Tony found cause for concern. Was this the part where Aymun led them into a trap? But it turned out that the Syrian knew of a raft hidden in the reeds. He and his two men retrieved it from further down the bank and were quick to explain its origin. “In early days of war,” said Aymun, “Syrian forces patrol river crossings. Local people make this raft and hide for ISN.”

  Ellis frowned. “The locals helped you? Why?”

  Aymun smiled. “Because they believe in ISN, Lieutenant. You think they side with government? Ha! ISN what they want. We take power and bring back old ways. Ways that best for Syrian people, not rich men and politicians. People in Syria, they starve while others take what they have. The West attack our religion, take our oil, tell us how we must be. ISN say no. We will not be how they tell us to be. We will be Syrian.”

  Ellis was clearly dumbfounded. “But you people are savages. You behead your enemies, enslave your women, and kill children. Surely people don’t want that.”

  Aymun’s eyes narrowed. “We do what must be done to take back our country. In war, bad things happen, yes? How many children has British Army killed? Many, yes? Children die in war. Enemies suffer. Do not judge a man in war, judge him in peace. Once we have country back, we will feed poor, help weak, and make peace with neighbours, but not while puppet government still lives. ISN fight for Syrian people and Syrian way of life.”

  Ellis laughed derisively, which led to the Syrians on either side of Aymun to sneer. Neither Syrian spoke English, but they were smart enough to know they were being mocked.

  Tony stepped in before the accord between the two groups was shattered. “Aymun, I believe that you believe your actions are just. We believe the same of our own. Right now we’re friends, and later we may go back to being enemies, but for now, we must concentrate on what we set out to do. We need to cross this river and get to that supply cache. Whatever differences we have will wait for another time. You gave me your word that you would help us.”

  Aymun nodded. “I already tell you, Sergeant, that we have new enemy now; is stupid to fight you, but your leader is ignorant man. He stupid man.”

  Ellis went red in the face. “How dare you. I am a lieutenant in the British Army and you are my prisoners.”

  Aymun sneered. “We are no prisoner.”

  “No, you’re not,” said Tony, glaring at Ellis. “Aymun is here to help us, sir. We made a deal.”

  “They had the chance to leave, but they chose to remain under my protection. They placed themselves under my command.”

  Aymun faced Tony. “You give word you let me and my men go.”

  Tony nodded. “I did.”

  Ellis glared. “You did what, Staff Sergeant? On what authority do you make deals with
enemy combatants? These men are my prisoners, and I decide what happens to them.”

  Aymun and his men shifted anxiously, and the British soldiers did the same in reply. Fingers slid towards triggers as everybody waited to see what would happen next.

  “I have been fair,” said Aymun. “You help me so I help you, but if we are still enemies, then say so.”

  Ellis flapped his arms. “Of course we are still enemies. You’re members of the blasted ISN. What would my superiors do if I shook hands with members of an enemy rebel force?”

  “Your sergeant wish to shake my hand,” said Aymun. “He is better man than you. He see. He see what is.”

  Ellis frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what is?’”

  “I mean we all must be as one to fight new enemy. Mankind must be an army. You do not understand. You are fool.”

  Ellis pointed his finger. “I am no fool.”

  Aymun sighed and turned his back. “You are fool. I leave, fool.”

  Ellis pulled out his handgun and pointed it at the back of Aymun’s head. “You stop right there. You are my prisoner.”

  Aymun’s two soldiers raised their AK47s and pointed them at Ellis. The British army raised their L85s in reply. A standoff ensued.

  Tony threw up both hands and stood between the two groups. The ISN were out-gunned two to one, but they would take a couple of British soldiers down with them before they bit the dust. That couldn’t happen.

  “Lieutenant Ellis,” Tony shouted, “the only priority right now is getting the men to safety. There is precedent for working with the enemy in times of exceptional circumstances, and I believe what happened at the border more than qualifies as exceptional. Over a dozen of Aymun’s men are dead. Command will consider our mission a victory, but we will be needed for the days ahead—all of us. We cannot afford to get involved in another fire fight. The ISN are considered an illegally occupying force, but we are not officially engaged in a war with them. Therefore, they are not strictly our enemies. We can work together peacefully as allies.”

  Ellis continued pointing his gun at Aymun, but his hand trembled. After several seconds, he lowered the weapon and placed it by his side. Everybody sighed with relief—even Aymun.

  “Everybody at ease,” Tony shouted. “Aymun, that means your men too.”

  Aymun nodded and muttered something in Arabic. His two men lowered their AK47s.

  Ellis was shaking his head and staring down at the ground. “I apologise. This heat… so little water. I am not in my right mind.”

  Tony groaned inside. Their only officer was hinting at his own incompetency and giving mixed messages to his men about whether they were working with the ISN or not. Things would not go well if Ellis didn’t get a handle on things and let everybody know where they stood.

  To his credit, Aymun did not linger on the animosity. He smiled at his British colleagues and said, “We must cross river now, yes? Very tired and all must rest.”

  Tony went to pat the man on the back, but worried about offending him, so he returned the smile and nodded.

  They went across the river in three shifts, taking almost an hour in total. The journey was wobbly, and they all got wet, but the night had not yet cooled, and they were all glad of the moist chill.

  On the other side, they formed up beneath the glowing moon and got going again. As the temperature descended, they dug into their packs and retrieved their jackets. It would be freezing within an hour or two.

  Fortunately, an hour was all it took for Aymun to locate his supply cache. They encountered an outcropping of boulders at a place where the green, fertile river plain changed back to the hard-packed, featureless dirt of the desert. Aymun led them all up the stony hill and waited for them at the top. Tony had his rifle raised, ready for an ambush, but once again, he was glad to find that Aymun had kept his word. It was all there.

  The outcropping of boulders was wide and hollow inside, like an inverted cave with the entrance above rather than besides. It was large enough for every one of them to climb inside, and they all gasped in amazement when Aymun lit a gas lamp and placed it at the centre of the room. Stacked up against the walls were numerous rifles and crates of ammunition. There were also piles of clothes and tins of food, along with can openers. Several bedrolls and sheets were bundled up in the corner, and it was pure luxury after what they had just walked through.

  “Take whatever you wish,” said Aymun, “but please do not touch the Quran. It must not come into contact with ground or be touched by…”

  Tony noticed the pedestal in the corner with the holy book placed reverently atop it and nodded. “We understand, Aymun. Thank you.”

  Ellis looked around. “This is much appreciated, Aymun. I wonder, could I… could I trouble you for…”

  Tony caught his superior officer just as he was about to hit the ground. He eased Ellis down onto one of the blankets and propped him up. “Get some water,” he shouted.

  Aymun pulled a bottle of water from the pile of supplies and hurried over with it. Tony took it and helped Ellis take a swig. “There you go, sir, drink up.”

  “Oh, thank you, Staff Sergeant. I-I’m afraid I came over rather lightheaded.”

  “It has been hard journey for us all,” said Aymun. “We rest tonight, get strength. Hardest part of trip tomorrow, will take several days to reach Turkish border.”

  Tony looked at Ellis’s grey face and wondered if he could make the journey. The men needed an officer, but Ellis was weak and inexperienced, too recently out of Officer’s Training to possess the grit required to keep going when his muscles begged him to stop. This was still just an exercise to him; he didn’t understand the stakes.

  Tony took a swig of the water, then gave the remains to Ellis. The men stood around anxiously, so he gave them something to do. “Hydrate, urinate, then get your heads down, lads. We have a lot of walking to do in the morning.”

  So everyone settled down inside the hidden ISN cave on the edge of the Syrian Desert. Despite the tension inside each of them, tiredness won out easily and they were all asleep within minutes. Tony waited until last to close his eyes.

  ***

  Tony awoke in darkness wondering where he was. He heard rustling, felt the air move.

  Then came an explosion.

  His hand was on his rifle, and he leapt to his feet. His eyes adjusted enough to see shadows, but it wasn’t until someone lit a lamp that he could see properly. By that time, everyone was scurrying to their feet blindly, bumping into walls as they tried to wake up. Ellis was last to his feet, and didn’t seem to realise that he should have been the first.

  “What the blazes was that?”

  “I don’t know,” Tony admitted. He looked at Aymun accusingly. “What’s going on?”

  The Syrian shook his head. “I do not know.”

  Another explosion.

  “He’s set us up,” said Ellis, pointing his finger. “His men are coming for us.”

  Tony studied the cave, saw no one missing. “If that’s true, then who’s fighting outside right now?”

  “It is not my men,” Aymun protested. His foot struck something, and he looked down at it. It was the Quran, knocked from the pedestal when everybody had been stumbling to their feet in panic. Aymun went to pick it up, but Tony saw something that made him raise his rifle.

  “Wait! Step away from that, Aymun.”

  Aymun looked at him pleadingly. “It is holy book. Must not be on ground.”

  Tony snarled, shoved Aymun away. “This isn’t a fucking holy book.”

  Keeping his rifle on the Syrian, he knelt down and flipped the pages. There was no printed scripture, but instead, handwriting, maps, and numbers—messages scrawled in Arabic. The ink from the most recent messages was still wet.

  Tony glared at Aymun. “You’re not the only one who knows about this place, are you? The ISN leave each other messages here. What have you written?”

  Aymun stayed silent, so Tony pointed his rifle in the Syrian’s face. Th
e British soldiers backed him up by pointing their own rifles.

  “What a fuck party,” muttered Private Harris.

  Tony moved the muzzle of his rifle closer to Aymun’s face. “What did it say?”

  Aymun swallowed, but didn’t look away for a second. “I write that we head north, west of Ash Shaddadi. Rescue is needed.”

  “I told you he would betray us,” Ellis shouted.

  “I say we shove a wee grenade up his arse,” said Corporal Rose.

  Tony glared at Aymun, looking into the man’s dark brown eyes, and prepared to pull the trigger. “You’re a liar. Where is your honour?”

  Aymun placed his hands in the air, a placating gesture. “I plan no bloodshed, only rescue. Your captain want to take us prisoner, even after accepting our help. I lead you to safety and escape in night. That was plan.”

  Tony delayed pulling the trigger. “How can I believe you?”

  “Because is truth. You understand, Sergeant. We are no longer enemies. Something has come to destroy all. We are brothers now and must fight. My men will need me and yours will need you. I was going to lead you to safety, then escape. I swear it by Allah.”

  Another explosion.

  Tony kept eye contact with Aymun despite the loose stones falling from the ceiling and into his collar. “You swear by Allah that you aren’t betraying us, that the fighting outside isn’t you?”

  “Yes, I swear it by Allah.”

  “Staff Sergeant, I command you to take this man prisoner,” demanded Ellis.

  Tony turned to his captain and sighed. “We have to trust him, sir. There’s too much at stake to go off half-cocked.”

  “I have just given you an order.”

  “I won’t follow it. Not until I know for sure that he betrayed us.”

  “Then you are under arrest for failure to obey a rightful order.” Ellis turned to the nearest British soldier, who was Private Harris. “Harris, please place Staff Sergeant Cross under arrest.”