by SD Tanner
“First of all, you’re tellin’ me you ain’t buildin’ me an army, and secondly, you don’t think strategically, Pax. You’re more of a nuts and bolts kinda guy.”
“Strategically? That’s a big word for a dumbass. You’re gettin’ uppity in your old age, Gears.”
He needed to know what was going to happen in the future, which only Mackenzie could see, and even he couldn’t see everything. Every fiber in his being was warning him that hell was just around the corner, only he didn’t know what form it was going to take. He believed he’d be dealing with Ruler, only not in the same way as before. In their last encounter, Ruler had presented himself in human form, making him an easy target. No doubt, Ruler had learned from his mistakes, and he wouldn’t be so easy to catch this time.
An accident where he’d hit a truck head on had left him with a deep scar down the left hand side of his face, and rubbing it distractedly, he said, “We know Cain has Lucie, and it’s possible he might decide to stop killin’ the hunters he’s creatin’. It’s not a huge step for a super hunter to take control of a hunter if they can find ‘em.” Sniffing decisively, he added, “We need to free Mac. If we can’t work out where the enemy is, then we should at least get any intel we can about the future, and only Mac knows that.”
“Maybe Ip can find him in hell?” TL suggested.
They all turned to look at Ip who stared back at them with disinterest. The concrete ground covering the Marine supply base began to darken, and the containers around them turned brown. An oozing, sticky slime leaked down the walls of the containers and hardened into a glistening rocky surface. The blue sky reddened until it became laced with flares of orange flames. Screaming voices, howling in pain, echoing through the rock-like structures that were once containers.
Back here again, he thought dismally. Ip stood up and began to walk along the maze of upright stone surfaces that he knew were really the hundreds of containers at the base. Entering what appeared to be a cave entrance, there was a graveyard in the gloom. It was full of disorganized headstones, unevenly lurching out of the barren earth, throwing strange shadows against the dirt.
Ip stepped over the mounds of old graves, until she eventually stood next to an effigy of a woman carved in stone, lying on her back with one hand on her chest, and the other by her side holding a sword. Next to the woman, was a much larger statue of a huge, rough faced man holding a matching, but longer and wider sword against his chest. There were two sarcophagus on either side of these statues, each with an effigy of a man lying on top of the grave. Both men were tall, dressed in old style metal armor, and they too held swords, but one also held a book and the other a bushel of wheat, carved into the stone.
At the foot of the gravesite were three grey benches, and above was a brilliantly green, leafy tree hanging low over the stone effigies, as if to give them shade from a sun that wasn’t there. The gravesite was a small oasis of peace in hell. Grass bent under his feet and he sat on the bench facing the graves, studying the elaborate pattern carved into the masonry. Ivy crawled across the stonework, and although there were no names on the graves, someone had created a relief around each of the sarcophaguses in a pattern that matched their tattoos.
“What am I lookin’ at?” He asked.
It is my home here in hell. It gives me peace to know we are well.
Screwing up his face in disgust, Pax asked, “Are ya tellin’ me we’re buried in there, Ip?”
Ip smirked and replied, “It is only one of you in the flesh. Do not worry, it was not your best.”
Curious to see one of his previous selves, he walked to the head of the grave where he and Ip lay, and examined their stone faces. With her high cheekbones and finely sculpted features, she looked much the same as she did now. His own face, that always looked like it was roughly carved, was perfectly suited to the coarseness of the rock, and even he could see himself in its stony face.
Studying his own face carved into the rock, TL chuckled and said, “I guess Ip brought us to her happy place.”
Glancing around the tiny patch of green, all he could see was a deep gloom, and crooked headstones littering the graveyard. The endless screams echoed softly against the graves and decrepit crypts. The mounds of dirt were uneven and, in some places, there were deep holes revealing dark coffins under the earth. He assumed this graveyard must have once existed, and this was only a replica created from Ip’s memory. It made him wonder how many more graves they occupied in the real world, and why Ip would choose this one as her oasis in hell. Knowing her as he did, he wasn’t surprised she would choose to spend her time in a graveyard. Despite being a home for the dead, he’d always found them oddly calming, much like Ip herself.
Reaching up and touching the green fronds hanging over their grave, he marveled that only Ip could bring life to hell. She was the Horseman of Death, and the dead were what she stood for, yet in the bloodshed of hell where she should feel her most comfortable, she chose to bring life and not death. Impressed she could still surprise him, he wondered what else he didn’t understand about his eternal partner.
“Why are you showin’ us this, honey?”
It is the beginning and the end. You start here to find our friend.
He wasn’t in the mood for a game of hunt for clues and asked impatiently, “Do you know where Mac is or not?”
The wizard knows you well, perhaps it would help if you call him from hell.
She never makes any goddamn sense, he thought irritably, what am I supposed to do, shout? Obviously, Ip didn’t know where Mackenzie was, but she seemed to think he could call him. Preparing to roar Mackenzie’s name, he was interrupted by TL.
“Don’t, Gears, you’re loud enough even when you aren’t shouting. She doesn’t mean literally.” Running his hands along the edge of the sarcophagus, TL added, “I think we need to open these.”
He couldn’t see why they needed to do that, but then he didn’t think shouting for Mackenzie was going to work either. Standing at the top of his own grave with TL and Pax, they got their hands under the rim of the sarcophagus. The stone felt gritty under his fingers, and wishing he was wearing combat gloves, on the count of three they heaved the heavy lid aside. A blast of cold, musty air filled his nostrils, and a dark cloud flared and flitted past his face. Quickly looking up, he watched as the darkness formed the vague shape of a large man, before drifting away into the flickering red light of hell.
Ip jumped to her feet and chased after the dark cloud. Realizing they needed to follow her, all three of them began to run, slipping on the bloodied moist ground beneath their feet. Hell seemed to travel forever with a never-ending series of caverns filled with the suffering of the dead. He lost track of how many dismembered bodies he saw, hideous demons and walls of corpses, never rotting and always howling. Sometimes they ran through rooms filled with shadowy furniture, and saw blurry outlines of the living amongst the dead. He assumed, in these homes, hell was haunting life. Other times, they skirted past deep pits used as mass graves for still moving corpses. In one cave, he saw a man wearing a Nazi uniform standing over the corpse of a horrifically thin person. Briefly slowing to a jog, he watched while the man in uniform was pulled apart, until he was only a howling torso, and an impossible amount of blood burst in arcs of brilliant red from his torn sockets.
Eventually the dark cloud they were following stopped and drifted to the ground in the shape of a huge, featureless man. Ahead of them was another apparent oasis in hell. The RV, in reality rusty with flat tires, was brightly colored and the campfire near the door was freshly laid, ready to be lit. Fifty yards away was the creek, bubbling and burbling with life, and trees and bushes were rustling softly in the breeze. With the sun shining, it looked like a small slice of heaven. The sound of suffering disappeared, and was replaced by the gurgling of a happy baby and gentle laughter of a contented mother.
This was the lie the Devil was telling Mackenzie, and he searched the scene for the man he needed to find. As if he knew someo
ne was looking for him, Mackenzie appeared holding a dead rabbit by its hind legs, and Max appeared at the door of the RV holding baby Mac.
“Mac!”
At the sound of his name, Mackenzie turned, and grinning, he shouted, “Hey, Gears! What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
Looking puzzled, and still holding the dead rabbit, Mackenzie walked towards them and said, “I live here.” Holding up the rabbit, he added, “I only caught one. If I’d known you four were coming, I’d have caught ten.”
“Do you know where you are?”
Laughing, Mackenzie replied, “Of course I do. I’m in Mississippi.”
Looking past the small patch of greenery, all he could see was a fiery red. Behind him were the slimy rocks so much a feature of hell. Grabbing Mackenzie by the arm, he dragged him away from the oasis and onto the bloodied ground beyond it.
“Can you not see where you are?”
Looking down at Mackenzie’s feet, a patch of green grass had appeared underneath him. Pulling him again into the blood, it transformed and more grass appeared. It seemed wherever Mackenzie went, his version of hell went with him, and it maintained a continuous illusion.
TL had walked to where Max was still standing outside the RV, holding baby Mac in her arms. “I think you’re working on the wrong end of the problem, Gears.”
Turning to walk back to his brother, while Mackenzie followed, he asked, “Whatdaya mean?”
“Well, that’s definitely Mac, but this isn’t Max or baby Mac.” Staring intently at the creature that looked like Max, he asked, “Who are you?”
The demon Max said nothing, but watched them coldly and TL said, “Ip, come here.”
Ip stood next to TL looking at him quizzically.
“Kill her.”
She pulled her sword from its sheath and prepared to thrust it directly into Max’s abdomen. The demon Max quickly thrust the baby in front of her like a shield, and Ip’s sword sliced cleanly through it, but the baby didn’t bleed or die. Instead, the apparent infant grew longer, until its clawed feet touched the ground, and its head became large and misshapen. Fangs grew from its jaw, and green pus spewed from its gut where Ip’s sword was still buried.
“You bitch,” it snarled. “Look what you’ve fucking done to me.”
Sounding confused, Mackenzie muttered, “What the hell…?”
“Yeah, Mac, you’re in hell. You have been for years,” TL replied sympathetically.
Dropping the corpse of the rabbit to the ground, Mackenzie turned to look at him. His face was drained of blood, and he seemed to have aged twenty years in just a few minutes.
“Am I dead?”
“No, Ruler tricked you. The real Max died and is waiting on earth. She won’t leave until you’re free. Baby Mac is five years old now.”
“Where am I really?”
“You were at the Ranch in a twilight state being cared for by Angel and Mom. You’re now on the big island. You’ve been safe all this time.”
“But why? Why would Ruler keep me prisoner this way?”
He suspected Mackenzie could help them and Ruler knew it. Hell had no timeframe and somewhere in hell was a future Ruler didn’t want them to see. If Ruler kept Mackenzie prisoner all this time, then it meant Mackenzie knew something they needed to know.
“We need ya, Mac.”
“How do I get out of here?”
“You need to wake up.”
“How do I do that?”
He didn’t know, and he turned to Ip and looked at her questioningly. When she stared back at him blankly, he suspected she didn’t know either, but at least they’d found Mackenzie.
Chapter Twenty-Six: Troops
Greg
“No, no, no! Where the hell is your med kit? Your helmet strap isn’t for decoration! It’s to keep the damn thing on your head!” Almost stamping his feet in frustration, he shouted, “Everybody get your combat gear off and unload your packs now. We’re gonna do it again, and we’ll keep doing it until you can do it in your sleep.”
The sound of grumbling and bad language reached his ears. Turning his back on the twenty men and women now squatting on the ground, while they unpacked their gear for the tenth time that day, he breathed deeply trying to control his temper. Twenty of them were assigned to guard the refinery town, but other than himself, not one of them knew what they were doing. He didn’t know why Pax saw fit to dump him in the middle of nowhere, with a bunch of useless boy scouts who didn’t want to work.
Every day was the same, he’d haul them out of bed, make them dress in their combat gear, put them on parade, and spend an hour telling them what they’d done wrong this time. After he got them vaguely dressed and almost packed with the right kit, the town coordinators made sure they got a hot breakfast and a packed lunch. He would then swap over the five shooters on the night sentry, and send the rest out in teams of six to patrol the area around the town. He moved between the teams all day long, teaching them how do the same job they did every day.
It was exhausting, and although every day was the same routine, they’d always forgotten what they’d learned the day before. Pax hadn’t sent him with enough shooters to run any sort of decent patrol, and when he asked for more, he was told he couldn’t manage any more incompetent soldiers and he had to agree. Given he was understaffed and underskilled, their sentries and patrols were a non-solution they might as well not have. If the refinery town came under attack the same way it had before, he didn’t believe his combat shooters had the skill or the will to defend the town.
He missed Tess, and with the disorganization of this badly managed army, he didn’t know when he’d be seeing her again, or even where she was. All that was stopping him from leaving his post was his fierce loyalty to the original bases, and the soldiers that once stood by him and saved his life.
It’ll get better, he told himself, the only way from here is up.
***
Marcus
The base was a filthy piece of wasteland in the paradise of Eden. Standing with one thousand soldiers, they all looked equally as horrified as he did at their new home. The big cheese named Gears had issued orders, and a third of the troops were to live in the main barracks at what they called the Marine supply base in Jacksonville, Florida. The other third stayed at Axe’s base, and the remaining third were a rotating combat force being trained in the field while scavenging for supplies.
In the past few months, since Pax and Ted took over the army, he’d been given more training than he’d ever received under Axe’s command. In many ways, the training reminded him of hunting with his father, and he eagerly looked forward to his field-based missions. While sitting in a makeshift camp having a late night chat, Pax told him he thought he’d make a good combat leader. He said if he stayed focused, and didn’t get distracted by all the women he was casually seeing, he could expect a promotion and his own squad.
That one discussion cemented his faith in the man. Pax had seen straight through his shallow lifestyle, and told him to knuckle under and be a good soldier. His father always told him the same thing, and although he’d said little back to Pax, he felt his head settle like the bolt action of a rifle sliding into place.
Walking up to a wooden table outside the warehouse on the base, he climbed on top and faced the thousand stunned looking men and women in front of him.
“Don’t just stand there looking stupid! This is our home now, and it’ll be what we make of it. Each container houses six to eight people. Get into your squads and go get yourselves a container. You’ve got one hour to find your new digs, dump your gear and get your asses back here for a briefing.”
When nobody moved, he roared, “What the fuck are you waiting for! It ain’t like you’re gonna leave, so move out…now!”
Slowly the group seemed to come alive, and they began to file past him into the long, crowded rows of dirty containers. A man with a weather worn face and only one arm, limped up to the table
and said, “Nicely done.” Putting out his only hand, he added, “I’m Jack. Welcome to the Command Team.”
***
Genevieve
“I don’t think we can rely on them, Harry.”
“They’re fine, and they’re better than nothing.”
“I dunno about that. They’re just as likely to shoot one another as they are anyone who attacks us.”
Gears had promised her an army, and delivered them a bunch of whining kids. They didn’t pull their weight, and although to date the town had managed to hold back the Crusaders, she had a nasty feeling they’d only been testing their strength and the full-scale assault was yet to come.
“What do you want me to do, Genny? We’re engineers and oil workers, not fighters,” Harry said tiredly.
Sitting up in bed, and holding the sheet over her generous breasts, she replied, “We need our own people to be ready to fight. The Crusaders will be back and I don’t think we can rely on these guys.”
Sighing, he said, “I always know I’m in trouble when you cover up like that.”
“Stop thinking about my tits, and start worrying about protecting our town and everything we’ve worked for.”
She slapped away his hand as he tried the tug the sheet from her chest, and he said, “If the time comes, it’ll all work out, you’ll see.” Running his hand across her thigh under the bedclothes, he added plaintively, “I’ve got thirty minutes before my fifteen hour shift at the refinery, and I’d rather do this than talk about that.”
Harry had a knack for almost effortlessly implementing big ideas, and she wondered if maybe he was right, and she was worrying for nothing. Letting the sheet drop into her lap, she rolled on top of his well-muscled form and said, “If you’re wrong…”
Slapping her firmly on the rear, he replied with a wicked glint, “Then I’ll let you spank me for once.”
***
George
“Good job, George.”
Looking at the ape-shaped man in surprise, he spluttered, “W..w..what?”
“You did a good job patrolling the base today. Your squad is wearin’ their gear right, you got spare ammo, you did two full circuits of the town, identified two unknowns, unarmed ‘em and brought ‘em in real tidy.” Slapping him on the back, Pax said confidently, “Keep it up.”
