Hell Gate

by Josh Matthews

  Jason turned his horse around and followed the others. Tears flowed down his cheeks.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The rest of the journey to Falaise took place with a strained silence within the group. Most of them confronted a jumble of emotions, not the least of which concerned the loss of Christophe. Up until now, most of them had assumed that the only Hell Spawn to have left the portal had been the soul vampires and Nachzehrer, which were nightmarish enough. Running across the pus zombies had dramatically changed the dynamics of their mission. While the pus zombies were relatively benign and easy enough to avoid, their discovery meant the chances were good that other horrors awaited them before they reached Paris.

  For Jason, those concerns were secondary. Right now, he struggled through his guilt and disgrace. As much as it pained him to hear it, Andre was right. He had been reckless leading the others through the field to show up Andre and impress Sasha. His arrogance cost Christophe his life and nearly killed Sasha. Up until today, he had considered himself a vital member of the team who only needed to prove himself to be accepted. He had proven himself, all right, yet not in the way he had hoped. Not only did he now question his own abilities, he feared how he would react when they came across more dangerous Hell Spawn.

  Over the course of two hours, Jason had gradually fallen behind the others until half a mile separated him from the rest of the team. He kept his head bowed. Blonde hair dangled across his face as if hiding his shame. He desperately hoped someone would notice him so far behind and wave for him to catch up. No one did. That wasn’t true. About an hour ago, Sasha had checked on him, although she didn’t acknowledge him. Even she didn’t care anymore. Several times he had thought about veering off and setting out on his own so as not to endanger the others. Maybe then they would appreciate him, though he doubted it. Every time he began to maneuver his horse away, he chickened out at the last second. After a while, he gave up on the idea of leaving. The only thing worse than wandering off was the knowledge that no one would care if he did.

  They reached the outskirts of Falaise an hour before dusk. Andre approached from the west, cutting through farmland to bypass the main roads into the city and avoid the center of town. Ahead of them, a tall hill dominated the surrounding area. On the western crag sat their destination–Chateau de Falaise, the 11th Century castle of William the Conqueror. Andre led the group along the southern slope and to the outer gatehouse. The others were already gathering around the entrance when Jason caught up with them. Andre was in the process of sending Haneef’s team in to check out the castle. Jason found it telling that, for once, Andre did not ask him to be the point man. He maneuvered his horse to the edge of the hill.

  Falaise spread out for several miles in every direction. Directly beneath him sat the town square, with the medieval church of St. Gervais dominating the northeast corner. The entire town seemed deserted rather than abandoned. There were not even parked cars. Jason saw no signs of Hell Spawn. In fact, he saw no life at all, which struck him as strange. All across France, wildlife had re-populated the countryside. Not here in Falaise. No deer. No squirrels. No rabbits. No birds. Nothing.

  Jason started toward the castle when a noise caught his attention. He pulled back on the horse and listened. It sounded like the buzzing of an insect, only much louder. He checked the ground beneath him, at first thinking he might have disturbed a bee’s nest. Then he noticed an echo to the sound, as it if came from a distance. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the buzzing, hoping to make a mental connection with the source. Unlike with the Nachzehrer, he couldn’t detect anything nearby.

  A loud whistle caught his attention. When Jason got back to the castle, Slava stood near the gatehouse. “Come on, Bait. The castle is clear. Andre wants us inside with the moat bridge raised before sunset.”

  Jason took one last look at Falaise. He no longer heard the buzzing. Shrugging, he fell in behind Slava.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dinner consisted of canned beans and mixed vegetables that Shane found hidden in the castle pantry, which he and Josh cooked in two large pots that they removed from the museum exhibit. This meal was nowhere near as good as the roasted chicken and scrambled eggs they enjoyed the previous night, although it didn’t matter because most of the group did not feel like eating. The three team leaders and Slava sat with Doc in the corner of the main hall near the fireplace, quietly chatting, while the others sat around the large dining table in the center. Except for Jason, who never showed up.

  Franco shoved his plate away, slopping some of the beans onto the wooden table.

  “You don’t like it?” asked Josh.

  “I’m not hungry.” Franco’s voice echoed in the spacious hall. He frowned. Leaning forward, he spoke in a hushed voice so the sound would not carry. “I’ve always been worried about having Bait in our group. Today confirmed it.”

  “That’s not fair,” said Neal. “He had no idea how dangerous the pus zombies were.”

  “He should have known better.”

  “The one we ran into this morning posed no threat.”

  “That’s because its head had already exploded.”

  “Let’s be fair,” said Petra. “None of us realized that until later.”

  Franco frowned and shook his head. “My point is, we’re running into Hell Spawn we haven’t encountered before, and Bait should have shown more caution.”

  “I didn’t see Andre try to stop him,” said Petra.

  Franco’s eyes narrowed, and his gaze bore into the woman. “How could he. Jason plowed ahead without thinking of others. Like his mother.”

  “You can’t blame Jason for what his mother did,” said Neal.

  “I don’t.” Franco glared at him, forcing Neal to avert his eyes. “However, he’s arrogant and over confident, just like her. David knows that better than anyone. He watched her open up the Hell Gate.”

  David shrugged. “Jason is trying to be better than his mother. Give him time.”

  “How much time?” Franco snarled. “He’s reckless. He’s what you Americans call a vaquero. We’re always saving his ass from the Hell Spawn. And I’m getting sick of it. We lost Christophe thanks to him. How many more people have to die before he smartens up? If that culito doesn’t fall into line soon, he’ll get us all killed.”

  Several people around the table nodded in concurrence.

  Neal kept his gaze focused on the table top. “He’s a good kid once you get to know him.”

  “That’s the problem,” Franco replied. “He’s a kid. Remember, I trained him. He has limited military skills. The only reason he’s even a part of the group is because of his psychic abilities.”

  “I vorry about das sixth sense of his,” said Reinhard.

  “That bothers me, too,” said Josh. “I like the kid, but his ability to connect with the Hell Spawn creeps me out.”

  “You know,” said Shane, “I’ve always wondered about that. How do we know those things don’t feel the same connection to him and are attracted to it? Jason could be leading them to us without even knowing it.”

  Neal spun his head toward Shane. His face flushed with anger. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  “Why not?” said Shane.

  “I’ve wondered about that myself,” added Antoine. “We always seem to attract hordes of Hell Spawn every time we go out.”

  “Maybe because more Hell Spawn are moving closer to Mont St. Michel,” argued Neal.

  Antoine grimaced in disgust and drank some water.

  “Maybe the reason we’re seeing more Hell Spawn could be because they’re drawn to him.” Shane postulated. “It would also explain why so many of the Nachzehrer were descending on Ger as we got there.”

  Before Neal could protest, Franco cut him off. “Little Doc, you’ve been hanging around Bait and Doc so much you’re beginning to like the Kool-Aid they’re serving. Remember, Doc is as responsible as Bait’s mother for the mess we’re in. And now we’re all on this suicide
mission because Doc has this idiotic idea that he can close down the Hell Gate in Paris with that stupid device he created. We’re all going to die so Bait and Doc can set things right with their consciences.”

  “Damn straight,” said Ray.

  “Here, here,” added Shane.

  David glared at Franco. “If this is a suicide mission, why did you agree to come along?”

  Franco chuckled. “What is it you gringos say? ‘It’s better to die on your feet than live on your knees’.”

  David’s face became crimson, but he held his tongue.

  Franco shook his head. “I would’ve felt better if we left that culito behind.”

  Petra huffed. “Thank God the decision wasn’t yours to make. Andre wanted him along.”

  “That’s not a ringing endorsement,” said Antoine.

  “You have a problem with Andre, too?” she asked.

  “Yes, I do.” Antoine leaned forward to intimidate her. “He’s nothing more than a petty thug trying to be someone important. Him and that little shit Slava.”

  “And I suppose you’re better than them?” Petra’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Antoine chuckled. “Yes. I’m a thug, like them. I just never aspired to be a marechal.” The Moroccan’s grin faded. “They’re as dangerous as Bait, though for different reasons. And those two will wind up getting us all killed if we let them.”

  “Ja,” agreed Reinhard.

  “Then why did you both come along?” asked Petra.

  “For the same reason you did,” said Antoine. “So we can stop this nightmare and go home to our families, or what’s left of them.”

  Ray bowed his head so no one would see the tears forming in his eyes.

  “I miss my family.” Sook-kyoung stared at the table. “I don’t want to die, but I’m willing to risk my life if it means ending all this so I can go back to Korea.”

  “It’s the reason we’re all here,” said Franco. He motioned toward the other table. “If any of those culos do anything stupid that could get us killed, they’ll have bigger problems than the Hell Spawn to contend with.”

  Reinhard nodded. Antoine grunted his approval.

  Pathetic, thought Sasha. Out of the entire group, only Andre and Slava ate heartily. Nothing fazed those two, not even the death of one of their team members. She knew they had been Russian street thugs before the gate opened, but always had hoped that the last several months would change them. It hadn’t. Those two had no emotional attachment to anyone or anything, except for the extreme violence inherent in this post-apocalyptic world. Andre and Slava thrived on the killing and carnage, which made them far more dangerous than the Hell Spawn the team faced.

  Even worse, no one seemed to care that Jason had not been seen for several hours.

  Sasha had spent the last ten minutes moving the beans around on her plate, worried about Jason. Sure, he had screwed up badly with the pus zombies, yet that was still no reason to bring up the subject of his mother. Jason already felt guilty enough about her culpability in opening the Hell Gate, which was why they had all agreed to keep it from him. It had worked until Andre’s outburst earlier in the day. Now that Jason knew the truth, it would take an even heavier toll on his emotions. She could tell by the way he had acted that the revelation depressed and distracted him, which did not bode well considering what lay ahead.

  Andre cleaned off his plate and washed the beans down with water. As he spun the lid closed on his canteen, he turned to Doc. “About those pus zombies we ran into today. Do you think they’re what created the newer Nachzehrer?’

  “It’s safe to assume that.”

  Slava shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. How can spores infect someone?”

  “It’s not that unusual.” Doc placed his plate on the floor. “Have you ever heard of zombie ants?”

  Slava furrowed his eyebrows. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Not at all. There’s a parasitic fungus called Ophiocordyceps that infects ant species. It eats away at the soft tissue of their heads and eventually infects the brain. The ants leave the nest, climb the stem of a plant, and attach themselves by their mandibles. They sit there until the fungus reproduces in their heads. Then it bursts through the skull and spreads spores to infect other ants. What we saw today was just a hellish version of that.”

  Slava huffed. “Thanks to that asshole Bait, Christophe became infected by those spores.”

  Sasha started to respond. Andre spoke first. “I’m just as responsible. I should never have let you all cross that field.”

  Now it was Slava’s turn to be incredulous. “You’re defending that little bastard?”

  “No. What he did was dumb. Letting you all follow him was even dumber.”

  “Did you have to tell him the truth about his mother?” asked Sasha.

  “Don’t question me on that. Bait’s a good kid. He needs to get his head screwed on straight and stop wallowing in pity.” Slava started to speak. Andre held up a hand and cut him off. “He’s as impetuous as we were at his age. And we’d be dead today if we didn’t learn from our mistakes.”

  Slava dropped his gaze to the floor, his pride hurt by being chastised by Andre in front of the others. “I still think the little bastard is going to get us all killed.”

  “The Hell Spawn will see to that. Right now, we need every advantage we have if we’re going to survive this, and Bait’s ability to sense these things is the best advantage we have.” Andre scanned the dining hall. “Where is he, anyway?”

  “He went up to the roof to be alone,” answered Doc.

  “You mean to sulk,” added Slava.

  Andre shot his friend a withering glance, and Slava immediately backed down.

  Sasha decided to use this moment to break away. “I’ll go check on him.”

  “Let me,” said Doc as he awkwardly pushed himself up with his one arm. “I think it’s time he knows the full truth, and it’d be better if he hears it from me.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Jason stood with his elbows resting on the wall of the castle’s tower. He barely ate, picking through his bag of granola and popping an occasional raisin or nut into his mouth, which he absentmindedly chewed. He directed his attention toward downtown Falaise, though with the only light coming from a full moon he really couldn’t see anything except the outline of St. Gervais Church against the starlit sky. With nothing to focus on, he stared into the dark, his mind replaying the events of that day. Lilith and Lucifer lay curled up at his feet on either side of him, the former taking a nap. Lucifer pretended to sleep, although every few minutes he opened one eye to check on his master. His head suddenly shot up, and his ears bent forward. He sniffed the air.

  Jason heard footsteps behind him. A moment later, Doc came up beside him. “Did they send you up here you to make sure I didn’t get into trouble?”

  “Sasha asked me to check on you. She’s afraid of how you’re handling this afternoon. We all are.”

  Jason snorted. “I doubt that. Most of them could care less if I rode off on my own.”

  “Yeah, some of them are assholes. But you do have a lot of friends down there, and they’re concerned.”

  “Don’t worry, Doc. I’m not gonna jump, though I have thought about it.” Shit, why did I say that?

  “It’s natural to feel that way at your age.” Doc moved up beside Jason and leaned on his one elbow, also staring out over the darkened city. “You only have Christophe’s death on your hands. I’m carrying the weight of hundreds of millions of dead.”

  Jason didn’t respond at first. He knew he had to ask the next question, even though he did not want to hear the answer. “Was my mother reckless in opening the Hell Gate?”

  “Are you sure you’re ready for the truth?”

  “I need to know.”

  Doc paused for nearly a minute as he stared out across Falaise. Finally, he sighed. “Yes.”

  The answer sliced open Jason’s soul. Everything he believed about his mother, ev
erything he had cherished about her, had suddenly been ripped away from him. Jason had come to terms with the fact that his mother’s experiment had destroyed the world, finding comfort in the illusion that everything that had transpired was an accident. He now knew that this tragedy could have prevented if his mother had not forged ahead against everyone’s advice to obtain her own glory, much like he had done this morning. That realization left a void of confused thoughts and feelings.

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Jason asked.

  “You already had enough problems dealing with what she had done. I didn’t want to shatter your vision of her any further.”

  “Thanks.” Jason meant it. “What happened?”

  “Antimatter experiments always contain an element of danger because of the consequences if the antimatter comes into contact with matter. Your mother thought that, if she could successfully generate the creation of antimatter in several labs and sustain it, it would advance research by years. All the physicists we briefed on the project disagreed, and they tried to stop her. Lisa… your mother was so damned pigheaded….” Doc struggled to control his emotions. “Your mother was too stubborn and selfish to listen to them. She viewed the project only in terms of how it would advance her career and ignored the risks associated with it. If anyone argued against the project, she did everything she could to discredit them. Your mother spent months convincing officials at CERN that this would make them a household name and would ensure funding for the next twenty years. She finally got her way.”

  “Did you think she was wrong?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why did you go along with the experiment?”

  “Because I was in….” Doc didn’t complete his sentence. He turned from Falaise and leaned back against the wall. “I supported your mother. I thought the experiment would fail, that not all of the labs would generate antimatter at the same time, or in the amounts she wanted. At worst, I figured there might be a breach of one container, which the facilities are designed to handle. No one had the slightest clue that the project would open up a portal to the underworld. What’s done is done. The best way I can assuage my guilt is to close down the gate in Paris and hopefully set things right.”