The Gates: An Apocalyptic Novel

by Iain Rob Wright

  “Fuck you, sir.”

  Ellis spun on his subordinate with more fire in his eyes than Tony had ever seen in the man. It seemed like a breach in manners was the thing that finally lit his fire. “I beg your pardon, Private? I have given you an order and strongly suggest you follow it.”

  Harris lifted his chin and showed no sign of backing down. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t believe you’re fit to give orders. I will do whatever Staff Sergeant Cross commands until we reach the Turkish border.”

  Tony considered what was happening. There were few offences more serious in the British Army than mutiny, but as Aymun constantly said: Things had changed when that gate had opened in the desert. Hard choices needed to be made.

  Ellis looked around at his remaining men. “Place Sergeant Cross and Private Harris under arrest. That is an order. Disobey me, and you’ll all be court-martialled.”

  Nobody moved a finger. The men’s expressions were steely—dangerous. Ellis grew more and more frustrated, growing red in the face, his lower lip quivering.

  Aymun was next to speak. “My men believe that a leader should be chosen by his men. You are no leader, Lieutenant—just a fool.”

  Ellis spun around in a rage and pulled his handgun up and pointed it at Aymun’s face.

  Bang!

  The sound echoed off the cave walls.

  Captain Ellis turned to face Tony, who had raised his rifle and fired before he even knew what he had been doing. A pinprick of blood bloomed on Ellis’s chest, just to the left of his heart. “Staff Sergeant…?”

  The officer dropped to his knees with disbelief in his eyes. Tony reached out to grab him, but reconsidered and let the man fall to the ground where he landed on his back, gave a few quick gasps, and then died.

  “Fuckin’ ell,” Tony muttered to himself, trying not to let himself panic. “Jesus fuck fuck fuckin’ ‘ell.”

  He’d just shot his commanding officer. They’d throw the book at him—the whole soddin’ library. But what choice had he had? If Aymun had been telling the truth, then allowing Ellis to kill him would have been a mistake. Ellis had no cause to execute the man.

  If Aymun really had betrayed them, then Tony had just made the biggest balls up of his life. Please, please, please, let Aymun be on the up and up.

  Tony turned to his men to gauge their reactions. A bunch of boys, all of them frightened, all of them tired, but there was something else to them as well. They were hardened. They were veterans. Not one of them seemed to judge him for what had just happened. They were his men.

  Tony cleared his throat and said, “Anybody who has a problem with what I just did is free to report me once we’re back at a friendly base. Until then I’m going to get you out of this fucking desert and to safety. Stick with me until then.”

  “I’m with you, Sergeant,” said Private Harris.

  “Me too,” said Corporal Rose.

  Soon, every man had agreed to follow Tony, and he found himself in a situation he had never been in before: Solo command.

  Aymun moved towards Tony and offered his hand. “Thank you, Sergeant.”

  “I thought you didn’t shake hands.”

  “I shake hand of man I respect. You are leader, like me. Let us lead together until peace finds us, be it in this life or the next.”

  Another explosion.

  Tony sighed. “This isn’t an ambush.”

  “No ambush.”

  “Well then, if that racket isn’t to do with you, we better take a look.”

  Aymun nodded. “We must.”

  They climbed out of the hidden cave entrance and stood atop the boulders. What they saw in the distance shocked them.

  Harris groaned. “It was so fucking dark last night that we never even noticed it. Another one of them gates right under our bloody noses.”

  “For fecks sake,” said Corporal Rose.

  About a mile away, another gate rose above the desert, monsters pouring out of it. The explosions were coming from a group of militia fighting back against the demons.

  “Those are my people,” Aymun said.

  Tony glanced at him. “ISN?”

  “No, Sergeant. Not ISN, just Syrians. They must have been attacked but now fight back to defend themselves. These are the people I fight for. They are brave, and we must help them.”

  “Then we will,” said Tony, realising there was no longer any option to make for the border when the enemy were right here. If you ran away in war, you lost.

  Aymun gave Tony a kiss on both cheeks. “We fight together, as brothers, ready to take Allah’s test.”

  Tony turned to his men. “Okay, lads. You know the drill. There’s enough weaponry in this cave to make a real dent in the bastards this time, and we’ll be the ones springing out of nowhere on them. Those people fighting are civvies, and they’re doing a bang up job. Are we going to let them take all the victory for themselves?”

  “Fuck no,” said Harris.

  “No way no how,” Rose added.

  “Whatever is coming through those gates is here to destroy us, to end our way of life. They want to murder our families, kill our children, and slaughter our women. They came from some ‘orrible bleedin’ ‘ell we probably can’t even imagine, and they want to take what is ours. Are we gunna let ‘em?”

  The men shouted a resounding “NO!”

  “Then let’s send the fuckers back where they belong.”

  Cheers all around. They were going off to war, and they were ready to kick arse.

  ~MINA MAGAR~

  Slough, Berkshire

  They left the city of London burning behind them. After the initial attack on Oxford Street, the enemy Army had systematically torn through the city, before backing off to regroup. They waited for the Army to congregate, and then attacked again from all sides. Hyde Park had been a massacre, and Corporal Martin had got a similar report about the Greenwich Park camp. What remained of the British Armed Forces was now regrouping at Colchester barracks to lick their wounds.

  Mina watched Heathrow Airport slide by on her left as they sped down the M4 motorway. The thick clusters of shops, factories, and houses faded away behind them as they entered the parklands on the way to Slough. A vast golf course lay to Mina’s right, still lit by enormous floodlights. The time on the jeep’s dashboard read 4:00. She wondered if people were hiding out in that hotel. In fact, how many people were still alive, cowering in their homes or grouping together at places like the golf club? If everybody fought back, all at once, would they have a chance? Corporal Martin seemed to think so, and she was beginning to agree. The Army could not win this war—that had become clear back at Hyde Park—so the only chance mankind had was if the entire population became an army. Every man, woman, and child.

  Both Corporal Martin and David had been making endless calls during the last thirty minutes as they fled the city. The staff of the Slough Echo had locked themselves in the offices, updating the website and posting on the larger newsgroups. At first, they had worked feverishly on this morning’s papers, but had abandoned it when it became clear that there would be no paperboys working tomorrow. Now they sought to get information to people through the Web. They had used the information given to them by David and were informing people about what they were up against. The black stones had opened gates, and the legions of Hell walked through them. That was the headline.

  Alice had screamed after her brother for a while, but had since gone quiet, staring out of the window and saying nothing. What had happened to Kyle affected everyone, even those who’d only just met him. He’d been a child. A brave boy looking after his kid sister. Mina thought about how many other children were dead.

  She took them off the motorway and entered the outskirts of Slough through Ditton Park. The sun had risen, and she was surprised to see people walking their dogs.

  “They know something’s coming,” said David. “It’s their attempt to enjoy the normalcy while they still can. Denial can be a powerful thing.”

&n
bsp; But the denial wasn’t true everywhere. Police patrolled the centre of Slough, which looked like it had been turned upside down by a whirlwind. Litter choked every gutter, and any shop windows not covered by shutters were now smashed. Mina remembered the 2011 riots and saw little difference. People become intrinsically antisocial in times of crisis. When something bad came their way, they thought only of themselves. People were rioting when they should have been coming together. During World War II, entire peoples came together to support their countries, now people fought their countries even as their countries fought for them. Times had changed. The enemy’s attack had come at the worst time possible.

  There was a scuffle up ahead spilling out into the road and causing Mina to stop. The police had gathered, forcing a group of youths to sit on the ground. One of the officers spotted the Army jeep and came over.

  “Bout time we got a little help,” the officer said.

  “I’m not here on behalf of the Army,” Martin said. “I’m just getting these two reporters to their offices.”

  The officer sighed grumpily. “Oh, how are things in the city? Still bad?”

  “No, not bad. Finished. There’s nothing left in London. The Army got destroyed. I might be the only soldier left from Hyde Park.”

  The police officer went white. “Shit. What the hell are we dealing with, here? Is it really monsters?”

  Mina nodded. “We’re at war, and we need to be prepared. Everybody, not just the police and army. We all need to be ready to fight.”

  “Fight monsters? You must be joking. People won’t fight. I’ve just spent half the night trying to stop people robbing each other.”

  “If we don’t start working together, we don’t have a chance,” Mina reiterated.

  “Just do what you can, Officer,” said Martin. “Those kids you have under arrest. What did they do?”

  “What didn’t they do? Breaking into shops, kicking in car windscreens, joyriding...”

  Mina looked at the gang of youths and saw beyond their hoodies and baseball caps. She remembered Vamps and at once stopped seeing disenchanted youths and saw potential heroes. She saw young, fit, healthy men with anger inside them that could be put to good use. “You need to talk to those boys,” she said. “Tell them what’s coming. Give them something to do, and they’ll be glad to be of use. I promise you.”

  The officer sneered. “What? You want me to deputise a bunch of thugs?”

  Martin nodded adamantly. “Yes! We just lost an army in Hyde Park. This country needs fighters. You have a bunch of them sitting in the road. This isn’t just a news of the week event. This is it—the big summer blockbuster, end of the world, fight for survival type of gig. You have a chance to make a difference, Officer. Get your men and those boys ready, because war is coming to us all.”

  The officer looked at everyone inside the jeep, then back at Corporal Martin. “You’re not joking? This is really the apocalypse or something?”

  Martin nodded gravely. “Everywhere is under attack, you probably already know that. It’s going to fall on men like you to fight back. There won’t be a British Army to sort this all out. It’s going to be fighting in streets and dying in pain. It will be youngsters, like the ones you have under arrest, that will fight for our survival. So go tell them what they’re up against before it’s too late.”

  The officer nodded. “Okay, I’ll round ‘em up and get ‘em to work. Every able-bodied person I can find will be ready, you have my word.”

  Martin saluted the officer. “What’s your name?”

  “Richard Honeywell.”

  “I wish you well, Richard. Stay alive.”

  “I… Yes, you too.”

  Mina shifted into gear and got going. She glanced in her rear view mirror as Officer Honeywell stood the gang of youths up and addressed them. He looked like a leader rallying his troops. That was exactly what he needed to be.

  Then she headed towards the newspaper offices, comforted by the recognisable streets along which she’d commuted almost every day since she’d joined the Echo ten months ago. It’d been her first professional job since gaining her photography degree from Falmouth. Her father had insisted on her taking a minor in business studies, and she had truthfully found that it had helped her when looking for work as a journalist. It gave her uses beyond taking snaps. Still, her father had not been happy when she went into photography instead of business. Respect and fortune were gained through trade, not by indulging in one’s hobbies. Mina’s father did not consider photojournalism a proper job.

  She wondered how he was.

  The last voicemail she’d received from her father had informed her that he was at home awaiting her imminent return. Her absence had forced him to close up the chip shop, and he was extremely disappointed in her. Well, he could go right on thinking about himself. She would do whatever she could to help. Right now, she was the one doing something while her father cowered at home.

  “We’re here,” said David, more for the benefit of Martin and Alice than anybody else. Alice continued staring out of the window, but Martin sighed with relief. He was probably as glad as Mina to finally stop fleeing. They needed to regroup and re-strategize. Running only made you tired.

  Mina pulled the jeep up behind Carol’s Mazda and switched off the engine. She put the ignition key in her pocket, even though the vehicle didn’t belong to her. If Martin asked for it back later, she would hand it over happily, but until then, she liked having access to a vehicle.

  “Help me!”

  Mina glanced into the road and saw a man lying twenty metres away next to the curb. He looked about thirty-years of age and he reached out to her and pleaded. “I’m hurt.”

  Martin raised his rifle suspiciously.

  “Please help me,” the stranger repeated.

  Martin took a step away from the jeep and moved into the centre of the road. He looked at Mina and then nodded ahead. “Go, check on him. I have you covered.”

  Seeing no reason to assume danger, yet possessing nerves frayed to tatters, Mina headed cautiously up the road. The dark-haired man’s olive skin gave him a look of the Mediterranean. He wore simple jeans and a white t-shirt stained with blood. As she got closer, she noticed that his nose was bleeding.

  “Are you alright? What happened to you?”

  The man remained lying on his side and moaned. “Some kids gave me a kicking, took my car, and left me here.”

  Mina knelt down beside the man and placed a hand on his arm. He was cold. “How long have you been lying here?”

  “I don’t know. An hour maybe. I… I was afraid to get up.”

  “It’s okay now. You can come with me.”

  The man pushed himself up into a sitting position and winced. “Thank you. My name’s Andras.” Despite his uncommon name, he had no accent to speak of, plain spoken and bordering on posh.

  Mina helped the man to his feet and took him over to join the others. “This is Corporal Martin,” she introduced him, “and my colleague, David, and this here is Alice.”

  Alice didn’t bother to look up, but Andras said hello anyway.

  “Andras was mugged,” Mina explained.

  “Not to worry, old chap,” said David, patting him on the back. “We’ve all been through the wringer tonight. We’re heading inside, and you’re welcome to come join us.”

  Andras nodded sheepishly. “Thank you.”

  So they all headed inside the building and went upstairs to the third floor. The lower floors were all unlit, but the third floor offices were glowing with life and buzzing with action. Almost every member of the Echo’s reporting staff was present, either at their computers or on their phones—some of them both, typing away with their hands while holding a phone between their head and shoulder. Mina had never seen the office so motivated. Even Carol, usually sitting in her office and violating the smoking ban, was up on her feet, bare-footed in stockings and waddling around on her mahogany cane. Numerous times, Mina had seen that cane waved in someone’
s face, including her own, but she was glad to see it now. She felt at home again. The world seemed a little less off-kilter.

  Carol spotted them and came running on over. “You made it! I’d begun to wonder if you’d ever get here.”

  “The roads were rather… chaotic,” said David. “I gave you all we had on the phone. What’s the word this end?”

  “It’s a bloody shambles. France and Spain have put their Governments on boats and abandoned their own countries in their time of need. America is fighting back, as you’d expect, but they’ve been hit bloody hard. New York took it right up the arse, poor buggers. China and Russia have killed as many of their own people as they have the enemy. They’ve flattened Moscow. Africa is doing the best, believe it or not. So many of its countries are heavily armed that their entire populations are effectively armies now. I bet the ugly buggers that came through the gates in Somalia didn’t know what hit ‘em.”

  “What about us?” asked Mina. “How is the U.K. doing?”

  Carol sighed. “You know the answer to that, luv, because you saw it for yourself. Our Army is mostly overseas, and most of what wasn’t disappeared in Hyde Park. What happened in Hyde Park has happened a dozen other places. Army got the shit kicked out of ‘em.”

  “I got word the Army is regrouping in Colchester,” said Martin, seemingly wounded by Carol’s remarks.

  Carol examined the Corporal like she had just realised he was standing there. “That’s true, my love, but what’s left to regroup? Not a lot. We’re up shit creek, not without a paddle, but without a bloody damn boat. We are literally swimming in shit. I can almost taste it. Jesus Christ it’s a sodding mess.”

  Martin glanced sideways at Mina and spoke in a hushed tone. “This woman is your boss?”

  Carol heard the comment and pointed her finger. “Yes, I’m her bloody boss, and anybody else who steps inside this office. The Echo is my paper, and we’re all working our arses off to get word out to the people about what’s happening. You here to help, Sergeant Stiff-neck, or are you going to put the kettle on?”