Wasteland in Red Square

by Josh Matthews

  Melnikov placed the oxygen mask over Budenny’s face. “We need to go now, sir.”

  “Just one more question, please,” Jason pleaded.

  “Make it quick.”

  “When you were at the portal, did you see anyone on the other side trying to get out?”

  “You mean anyone human?” Budenny asked through the mask.

  “Yes.”

  The general shook his head, and then removed the mask. “If there is anyone . . . on the other side . . . of the vrata . . . may God have mercy on them.”

  Melnikov motioned for Jason to leave. As Jason stepped away, the captain said to Budenny, “You rest now. We’ll brief you when we get back from tomorrow’s raid.”

  Once out in the corridor, Melnikov asked, “Did you get everything you needed?”

  “I did. Now let’s go to your office and plan how we’re going to do this.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Jason’s team and the Purgatoriati sat in the dining hall at separate but adjoining tables. Although the latter did not eat, they sat in silent meditation. Jason’s people chatted amongst themselves, keeping the conversation on any topic except tomorrow’s mission into Moscow. Only when they were finished did Ian realize someone was missing.

  “Where’s Jason?” he asked.

  “He and Melnikov are finalizing plans and running them by Zhirinovsky,” Slava answered.

  “Were the Russians able to restock us?” Gaston asked.

  “Thankfully, yes.” Haneef spooned the last of the beans into his mouth and pushed the plate away. “They had thousands of 7.62mm rounds, more than enough to reload my backpack.”

  Jeanette wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin. “Will we be taking the horses?”

  Slava shook his head. “We’ll take the steam buses into the city. Melnikov says it’ll be quicker.”

  “Where are the horses now?”

  “They’re in a stable on the other end of the compound with the Russians’ horses,” said Sook-kyoung. “I checked on them this afternoon. The Russians are taking good care of them.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” said Jeanette. “With luck, tomorrow will be a success.”

  “Inshallah.”

  “Maybe,” said Slava.

  “You have doubts?” Reinhard finished off the last of his water.

  “Not doubts.” Slava locked his eyes on the Purgatoriati. He studied them a moment. “Sasha!”

  She looked up from the table, the hooded cloak hiding half her features. “Yes?”

  “Join us.”

  Sasha became embarrassed. After a few awkward seconds, she stood up and headed over.

  “I mean all of you,” said Slava.

  Sasha stopped and stared at the Russian, not knowing what to say. She sought guidance from Father Belsario.

  “No offense, my son,” said the cleric as he kept his gaze fixed on the table. “We prefer to be alone.”

  “It wasn’t a request.”

  Father Belsario raised his head. His eyes locked on Slava’s. They were cold and menacing. “Are you giving us an order?”

  Slava refused to back down, although he made his tone less confrontational. “I’m telling you that if you’re going to go into combat with us, you need to be part of the group. Every one of us has trained together since this trip began, and most of us have fought together for months. I know these people better than I did my own family. I trust every single one of them to have my back when we go into battle, just as they trust that I’ll have theirs. You might think this warrior monk persona and the enhanced physical strength makes you special. That means shit to me. I don’t know any of you other than Sasha, and I’m not sure if I trust her anymore. I refuse to go into combat with people I don’t know well enough to rely on.”

  Tense seconds passed. For a moment, no one knew if Slava and Father Belsario would go at each other. Finally, the tallest of the cloaked figures rose. Removing his broadsword from its sheath, he stepped over to the table and stood in front of Slava. The Russian showed no signs of being intimidated. The Purgatoriati placed the broadsword on the table in front of Slava, sat down, and slid the hood off his head. He sported auburn hair and matching beard.

  “You have the soul of a warrior,” he said. “I can relate. My name is Matthew.”

  “Is that your real name?” Jeanette asked.

  “That’s the Biblical name I chose when I joined the Purgatoriati. My real name is not important. I used to be a Knights Templar in the Holy Land at the end of the 13th Century, devoting my life to fulfilling God’s will. Only later in life did I realize I had sinned by killing innocents in His name. I left the order and spent what little remained of my life in the Holy Land preaching the true word of Jesus. I died two years later of typhus. The renunciation of my previous life kept me out of Hell. However, by the time of my death I had not performed enough good deeds to atone for the sins I had committed. That’s why I’m here.”

  Another of the cloaked figures rose, came over to the table, and placed his broadsword in front of Slava. As he sat, he pulled back his hood, revealing a boyish face with a swarthy complexion. “I’m Jonah. I lived in Jerusalem during the Crusades. When the city fell to invaders, I renounced my faith and denounced my god to stay alive. Even though I followed the tenants of my new religion, I was banished to Purgatory because of my disloyalty.”

  “Which faith were you originally?” Haneef asked.

  “Does it matter? Neither Jehovah, God, or Allah appreciate betrayal.”

  The last cloaked figure followed the same ritual. Fair in features, with blonde wavy hair and blue eyes, he spoke in a quiet voice. “I’m Luther. My banishment was because I accepted science as my religion, medicine in particular. I spent my life in 18th Century Nuremburg discovering the causes for diseases and curing the sick, especially amongst the poor. My good deeds kept me out of Hell while my lack of faith kept me out of Heaven.”

  All attention focused on Father Belsario. He remained seated, still wearing a stern and angry expression. His countenance softened. Standing up, he removed his broadsword and placed it with the others in front of Slava. “You know my story. I’m the only person dumb enough to abandon Paradise to come back here and fight Hell Spawn.”

  Slava rose, removed his hunting knife from its sheath, and laid it on top of the broadswords. “And I’ll be happy to have you go into battle with me.”

  Father Belsario crinkled his lips. “Does that mean you’re no longer worried about having us behind you in combat?”

  “I still don’t want you behind me,” said Slava. “I want you beside me where we can cut down Hell Spawn together.”

  The rest of Jason’s team voiced their concurrence. Slava stood and raised his empty hand as if making a toast. “Here’s to closing the Moscow portal.”

  Father Belsario nodded. “And to our newfound friendship.”

  ***

  Jason’s team and the Purgatoriati had called it a night and left the dining hall for their quarters. Some had gone straight to bed while others milled around and chatted, knowing that sleep would elude them. Sasha did neither. Slipping away from the group, she wandered the compound and stopped to stare at the gates leading outside. When they opened again, she and the others would head into Moscow. The very thought filled her with an apprehension bordering on terror. Not a fear of the Hell Spawn, which she had faced down before, but fear of what the day held in store. The last time Sasha had shut down a portal, it had changed her . . . her. . . .

  Sasha had no idea what to call this new existence. Though resurrected from the dead, she felt no different than before she fell from the bell tower of Notre Dame. Her body functioned normally, only now she never tired and had improved stamina. Father Belsario had warned she would still feel pain as though she were alive, except now her body would be able to withstand thresholds no average mortal ever could. Somehow, she knew those limits would be put to the test in Moscow.

  Someone approached from behind. Sasha glanced over her
shoulder as Jeanette joined her.

  “Hello,” Jeanette said.

  “Hey.” Please don’t talk about Jason, Sasha thought. I can still experience emotions.

  “I noticed you were the only member of the Purgatoriati who didn’t tell us why you were sent there in the first place.”

  “That’s because I don’t know why.” Sasha took a deep breath to stifle a sigh. “After I died in Paris, I woke up in Purgatory and was eventually drafted into the Purgatoriati.”

  “You mean recruited?”

  Sasha shook her head. “The others volunteered to come back. I had no choice. Father Belsario tracked me down and provided me with two options—come back to Earth to help Jason, or spend the rest of eternity in limbo.”

  “What was the deciding factor?” Jeanette asked, her voice teetering with jealousy. “Spending eternity in limbo or getting another chance to see Jason?”

  The question made Sasha painfully aware of the empty void in her heart. “Most people would do anything to get out of Purgatory.”

  “But getting to see Jason was a perk, right?”

  “Do you want to know the truth?” Sasha snapped, allowing her anger to get the better of her. “When Father Belsario gave me the option, for a brief moment I considered taking an eternity in limbo so I wouldn’t have to see Jason again.”

  The statement caught Jeanette off guard. “I thought you liked him?”

  “That’s the problem. I love Jason.” Sasha held up a hand before the latter could say anything. “I’m not here to fight for him, although I’ll admit I had hoped he would show a romantic interest when he saw me again. Jason has moved on. He’s happy with you, happier than I’ve ever seen him. Much happier than I ever made him. I won’t take that away from him. Trust me, no one knows better than me how much it hurts to lose the one you love. Besides, I had my chance to be with him and blew it, and I’ll have to deal with that for eternity. I love him too much to force him to pick between us.”

  “Thank you.”

  “A broken heart is the least of my worries,” Sasha lied. “Father Belsario has assured me that I’ll die several horrible deaths and be resurrected just as many times before this is all over. It doesn’t matter. I will do anything to keep Jason alive long enough to complete this quest he has undertaken.”

  “We both will.” Jeanette took Sasha’s hands. “He’s lucky. It’s not everyone who has a real guardian angel fighting by their side.”

  The comment caught Sasha by surprise. “I hadn’t ever thought about it that way before.”

  Jeanette released her hands. “What’ll happen to you when this is all over? Will they let you into Heaven?”

  Sasha shrugged. She wanted to avoid this conversation as well. “I don’t know. That’s a topic Father Belsario refuses to talk about.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Jason stood beside the railroad track and stared at the tunnel entrance located near the southern end of the main runway at Ramenskoye Airport. A slight grade descended between two retaining walls until the tracks ended two hundred feet in front of him against a cement wall with double steel doors blocking the entrance. It reminded him of Nanterre, the city outside of Paris where his team had descended into the subway system. Jason fought back a shiver as the recollection of that underground nightmare flooded his memories. He would be leading his people into another Hell, and needed to present as solid an emotional front as possible.

  Behind him, Jason’s team, the Purgatoriati, and the thirty-man platoon under Melnikov’s command milled around two converted city buses. Neal and Ian each carried an antimatter device so they would have a backup in case something happened to the primary one. On the opposite side of the tracks, Father Belsario led the Purgatoriati in prayer. Jeanette broke away from the others, with Lucifer and Lilith in tow. She stepped up beside Jason and slid her hand into his.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he answered with little enthusiasm.

  “You’re remembering the Metro, aren’t you?”

  “Who can forget?” Jason had brief images of David, Bill, and Franco, all of whom who were killed by giant insects beneath the streets of Paris. “We lost a lot of good people in that subway.”

  “You won’t lose any here,” said a voice from behind them. Melnikov stepped up to Jason. “We won’t be taking subway. It’s too dangerous. Giant spiders and centipedes, and swarms of oversized cockroaches that can strip a man clean in minutes. I lost over twenty good men a few months back doing reconnaissance of Moscow subway. I won’t make same mistake again.”

  Jason pointed to the steel doors. “Then what’s this?”

  “This is emergency exit so government officials can escape Moscow, pick up rescue plane at airport, and fly to safety. This will take us to underground bunker complex Soviet Union built under city so government could survive nuclear war.”

  “Isn’t it also infested?”

  “Nyet. It’s separate system not connected to subways or sewers. Every entrance has steel door that creates hundreds of isolated sections. We secure each door as we pass through, so even if Hell Spawn finds way into one compartment, which is unlikely, they can’t spread throughout system. We’ll have clear path right to Red Square.” Melnikov pointed to a young man approaching them who carried a satchel bag draped over one shoulder and a 9mm Tsniitochmash automatic rifle in his right hand. “That is Lieutenant Grachov. He’s former FSB, Federal Security Service, our version of your CIA. He knows these bunkers like his own apartment. Grachov will lead us to within few hundred meters of vrata so you can deploy device.”

  “When do we start?”

  “Once Grachov opens doors.” Melnikov fell in behind the lieutenant. He waved Jason along. “Come on.”

  The three walked down the slope until they reached the tunnel wall. A handle had been welded onto each steel door. Two separate chains were wound tight around the handles, each secured with a combination lock. Grachov entered the three numbers on each lock and pulled the shackles out of the body. Removing the locks, he slid them into his pocket and unwound the chains. Grachov grabbed the handle of one steel door and pulled it open as Melnikov did the same with the other side. Jason stared into the pitch black.

  “It’s about forty kilometers to bunkers from here,” said Melnikov. He handed Jason a miner’s cap with a two-hundred-watt flashlight mounted on the brim. “My men are passing these out to your people. Lights and electric rail circuit were fried during EMP, so we will be in dark whole time except for flashlights and these.”

  “How come these work?”

  “Throughout bunker system, we have special storage areas built to shield against EMP. We kept these and generators and certain medical equipment in them in case they were needed during emergency.”

  “Do we have to walk the whole way?”

  “Nyet. Buses will fit. My men will go first. You’ll follow five minutes later.”

  “Why not go together?”

  “It gives time for smoke from first engine to dissipate. Besides, even though it unlikely, if we run into any mertvyye demony, you’ll have chance to escape and come in another way.” Melnikov headed back toward the buses. “Come on.”

  The others had already boarded. Melnikov climbed into the first bus with his platoon. He said to Jason, “Grachov will go with you and lock doors behind you. If anything goes wrong, listen to him. He will take you back to camp.”

  “Thanks,” said Jason.

  The door slid shut and the city bus lurched forward, picking up speed as it descended the slope into the tunnel. Shadows enveloped the vehicle except for burning embers from the steam engine, and even those were quickly engulfed by the dark. Jason climbed into his own bus and stood by the windshield. Lucifer and Lilith joined him, the latter curling up at his feet, the former tilting his head as he stared into the tunnel. After a few minutes, Grachov barked an order in Russian. The fireman stoked the engine. The bus inched forward, stopping once it entered the tunnel. Grachov jumped o
ff, raced back to the entrance, and closed the twin steel doors. Now the only light came from the lanterns attached to the vehicle’s front bumper. After securing the doors with the two chains, which he wound around handles welded onto the inside surfaces, Grachov rejoined the others. The driver released the throttle, and the bus picked up speed, beginning the journey into downtown Moscow.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  It took forty-five minutes for their steam-driven bus to reach the end of the line. The driver stopped behind the first vehicle and opened the sliding door. A U-shaped subway platform stretched for two hundred feet down each wall of the tunnel and against the front façade. Grachov led Jason’s team and the Purgatoriati to where Melnikov’s men had set up a string of flood lights facing a flight of stairs in the facade, five steps high and ten feet wide, that ended in front of a pair of six-ton metal doors, each painted battleship gray with a red valve wheel in the center. A chain and combination lock wound between the two wheels. Most of the captain’s platoon formed a semi-circle around the doors. Grachov removed the chains.

  Slava moved up beside Melnikov. “You know those chains will never keep out Hell Spawn.”

  “They’re not meant to. Electronic locks no longer work, and we can only manually lock from inside. Chains are early warning system. If broken, we know something got inside bunker system.”

  “What happens then?”

  “Then situation become... how you say in English . . . ah, yes. Situation becomes FUBAR.”

  The clanking of metal against metal signaled that Grachov had removed the chains. As he spun the valve wheel on the right door and pulled it open, the Russians around him raised their weapons into the high ready position. Jason tensed, expecting a swarm of giant insects to invade the platform. Nothing happened. Grachov waved for the others to join him and headed inside. Jason and Melnikov climbed the stairs and entered an antechamber fifty feet square. The green-painted walls on either side were lined with wooden stools mounted into the cement and, above them, rows of metal cots folded up against the wall. Grachov opened a door similar to the ones they had passed through, only smaller. Jason maneuvered the flashlight on the miner’s cap through the opening. A long red-painted corridor stretched ahead of him until it disappeared in the shadows. Despite a series of metal pipes and bundles of electrical wire running along the right wall, it was wide enough for three people to walk abreast.