Hell Gate

by Josh Matthews

  Jason lowered his head. “I know what you mean.”

  Doc placed his hand on Jason’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

  A long silence passed between them. Finally, Jason asked, “Is that why my father left? Because my mother was stubborn and reckless?”

  “No.”

  “Then why?”

  “Your mother loved your father as much as she loved you. She also loved her career and pursued it with a passion. After you were born, your father assumed she would spend more time at home, but she didn’t. He eventually got tired of taking second place. When she took the position at CERN, he filed for a divorce, and Lisa didn’t contest it.” Doc thought for a moment. “You don’t blame yourself for their divorce, do you?”

  “That’s the one thing I don’t feel guilty about.” Jason chuckled nervously. “Mom never talked about my dad.”

  Another long silence passed between them as Jason processed what Doc had told him. This marked the second time in a year his world had been torn apart, though this time, he found it harder to handle the emotional sundering. He had learned enough psychology in high school to know that most kids have an idealized image of their parents and that as children get older they develop a more realistic concept, one that is always at odds with the earlier fantasy they created. It’s tough enough coming to terms with the fact that your mother isn’t perfect. It really sucks when you find out she destroyed the world out of selfishness.

  Ironically, the truth lifted a major weight from his soul. Up until now, Jason had always viewed the opening of the portals as an accident and had seen it as his mission to clear his mother’s name, a burden no sixteen-year-old should bear. Now he knew that the portals had been formed because his mother had been thinking only of herself, and nothing he could do would ever change that. His mother would go down in history, if anyone lived long enough to write it, as the woman who recklessly opened the gates between Earth and Hell. Jason no longer had to take on her guilt. He still needed to accomplish one task to set things right. Not for his mother, for himself.

  Doc reached over and pushed the loose hair away from Jason’s face in a fatherly gesture. “Are you okay?”

  “Not really, but I will be. Once we close down the Hell Gate.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The group gathered on horseback in the Chateau de Falaise’s courtyard shortly after dawn. Jason arrived last, hanging around at the back so he did not have to interact with anyone. When Sasha heard his horse, her eyes lit up. She swung hers to intercept Jason when Andre spotted him. The Russian snapped his fingers and, when he caught Jason’s attention, motioned for the kid to join him. Jason flipped the reins and nudged the horse with his knees. The animal moved forward, with Lilith and Lucifer on either side. When he reached the head of the line, Andre greeted him with a friendly nod.

  “Are you ready, Bait?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Lead the way, and keep your senses open for any Hell Spawn.” Andre spoke to the others. “Let’s head out.”

  Jason led the group through the outer gatehouse and along the pathway down the hill and then headed into town. It looked like it did from the top of the hill last night. Quiet and desolate. Not even birds gathered around the bell tower of St. Gervais. Lucifer did not seem bothered by it, although Lilith kept glancing from side to side, her ears raised and on the alert for danger.

  The group had passed St. Gervais, when the buzzing Jason had heard yesterday, started again, only this time much closer. Andre held up his hand and the others stopped. Everyone scanned the square, the surrounding buildings, and the side streets, trying to pinpoint the noise. Even though they were exposed, staying put was preferable to racing for cover and rushing into a pack of Hell Spawn.

  Andre called out to the others. “Stay sharp, people.”

  To Jason’s right, Lilith had already morphed into here demonic form and stared at the sky, growling. Jason followed her gaze and gasped.

  A dozen wasps the size of horses swarmed out of the church’s bell tower and descended on the group. The closest, barely thirty feet away, bore down on Doc.

  “Doc, behind you!” Jason yelled.

  Upon seeing the wasp, Doc snatched up the saddlebag with the antimatter device and leaned into his horse, hoping to present a smaller target. His horse panicked and bolted, throwing him. Doc huddled over to protect the device and landed on his back, knocking the wind out of him. As his horse raced across the square toward a side street, Petra set out after it. The insect landed on Doc, positioning itself so its stinger hovered over the human’s head.

  Lilith and Lucifer lunged at the wasp, each grabbing a wing and yanking the giant insect off its victim. It thrashed around, shredding its wings between the two sets of canine teeth. Spinning its lower body, it rammed its stinger into Lucifer. The tip broke off on the werehound’s scales. Lucifer jumped out of the way. His jaws were still clamped tight on the wasp’s left ring, ripping it off. The giant insect flailed about until the other wing came off in Lilith’s mouth. Righting itself, it crawled toward the church.

  Jason spoke to David, who was alongside him. “Take my horse.”

  When David grabbed the reins, Jason slid out of the saddle, unsheathed his machete, and ran over to Doc.

  “Get inside the church!” yelled Andre.

  The Russian had spun his horse around to warn the others and didn’t see the wasp swooping down on him. It buzzed past his head, knocking him out of the saddle.

  Slava raised his FAMAS and fired a three-round burst into the insect attacking his friend. The bullets thudded into its abdomen. They seemed to have no effect other than to cause it to buzz angrily. Slava switched his weapon to fully automatic mode. He then noticed something flying at him from the right. A wasp was bearing down on him less than thirty feet away. Raising the weapon, he squeezed the trigger, releasing the last seven rounds. The wasp’s head exploded, yet momentum kept the body going. The dead insect slammed into Slava, knocking over both him and his horse.

  “Follow me!” yelled Franco. Spinning his horse to the right, he headed around the side of the church toward the north transept. The others fell in behind him. Franco jabbed his heels into the horse’s belly, urging it to run faster. He hoped they would make it to safety before the wasps got them.

  Everyone followed Franco except Sasha. She stayed in the center of the square, unholstered her minigun from her leg mount, and fired up the weapon. The whir of its motor drowned out the buzzing around her.

  “Haneef, fall back on me!”

  Haneef maneuvered his horse alongside her so the two gunmen faced in opposite directions. Each fired a five-second burst into the approaching wasps, the barrage of bullets shredding four of them.

  Two of the remaining wasps landed in the square, one only a few feet from Slava. The other crawled toward Jason and Doc. A third flew off after Petra. The rest veered off and went after the group trying to get into St. Gervais.

  “Haneef, protect the others! I’ll take care of these bastards!”

  Bullshit, she thought. There are too damn many of them. I can’t save everyone.

  The wasp crept onto Jason, pushing him down onto Doc. Its abdomen extended up and out, ready to plunge its stinger. Jason thrust his machete up into the raised abdomen and twisted the blade, gouging a hole in the insect. A yellowish-green viscous fluid flowed from the wound and dripped onto his hand. The wasp tried to attack but, with the blade embedded in it, the stinger only moved a few feet, stopping inches from Jason’s head. Jason shoved in the blade up to its hilt and twisted it from left to right. The wasp’s buzzing intensified.

  Seeing their master in danger, Lucifer and Lilith rushed to his defense. Lilith clasped the wasp by a wing and Lucifer by one of its opposite legs, yanking it off of Jason. Lilith plunged her stinger into the wasp’s thorax, injecting it with paralyzing venom. The insect went limp.

  Jason lifted the semi-conscious doctor to his feet, threw the
saddlebag with the device over his shoulder, and the two limped toward St. Gervais Church.

  Ray was last in line heading for the church when a wasp dived at him, driving its stinger into his back. Because he carried one of Haneef’s spare ammo packs, he felt nothing more than a heavy shove against his shoulder blades that nearly dismounted him. The wasp pulled back for another attack. Haneef rode up and fired his minigun, shredding the wasp in mid-air and splattering Ray in yellowish-green blood and body parts.

  Franco reached the church first. Sliding out of his saddle, he raced up and pushed against the door. It would not budge.

  “Open the damn door!” screamed Sook-kyoung.

  “I can’t. It’s locked.”

  Another burst from Haneef’s gun killed a wasp that dropped to the ground between Shane and Josh. Both men had all they could do to keep their horses from bolting.

  “Let me try.” Antoine dismounted and, as he approached, he unslung his FAMAS. Franco jumped aside. Antoine fired two three-round bursts into the lock and kicked it. The wood shattered and the doors swung open.

  Everyone rushed inside.

  The other two wasps followed. One erupted into bits from a concentrated burst of fire from Haneef’s minigun. The other barged its way through the open doors and into the transept.

  Andre struggled underneath the wasp. He kicked at its head and kept his hands pressed against its abdomen, trying to prevent from being stung. The stinger lunged at him. He tightened his elbows. As the abdomen curled up under the insect, it pushed Andre along the pavement.

  The wasp shifted its position. Its legs grabbed hold of Andre’s torso so he couldn’t move and attacked again. The Russian twisted his body as far as he could to the right. The stinger missed his head and struck his shoulder, slicing through skin and shattering his clavicle. Excruciating pain shot through his body, although nowhere near as bad as when the wasp pumped venom into him. A burning sensation seared through his veins and skin, as though someone had injected him with acid.

  Andre screamed as the upper left part of his body went numb.

  Slava lay on the ground, dazed from his fall. However, his friend’s agonized scream snapped him back to reality. Rolling to one side, he saw the wasp with its stinger lodged in Andre’s shoulder.

  “No!”

  Seeing his FAMAS inches away, Slava crawled onto his knees and picked it up. He aimed between the insect’s eyes and squeezed the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  Shit, I used up my ammo killing that other wasp.

  Popping out the empty magazine, Slava reached into his ammo pouch, removed a full magazine, and slammed into the weapon.

  Petra caught up with Doc’s horse before it raced down the side street between the castle and the municipal building. Grabbing the reins, she brought it to a halt. Once the horse had calmed down, she spun it around and sped across the square toward the church.

  Hearing a loud buzz, Petra raised her head and stared into the angry eyes of a wasp flying straight for her.

  Sasha quickly sized up the situation. Haneef had taken care of the wasps attacking the rest of the group. The werehounds were ripping apart the insect that had attacked Jason. Andre was in trouble, but she couldn’t use the minigun to help him without killing him in the process. That left the wasp bearing down on Petra.

  She had only seconds before it got too close to Petra for her to fire. Aiming for the space between the young woman and the insect, Sasha let loose a three-second burst. The wasp flew into the stream of bullets and blew apart. What remained of its carcass was propelled to one side by the blast, cartwheeling out of Petra’s way. Ducking her head, Petra raced through the rain of blood and body parts, and headed for St. Gervais.

  Inside the church, pandemonium broke out. The wasp landed on one of the statues by the transept arch and spun around, sizing up its next victim. It never got a chance to attack. Eleven weapons opened fire at once, bombarding the insect in a fusillade of bullets. It thrashed around, unable to fly because of its shredded wings. Falling from the statue, it crawled around the floor in a circle, desperate to escape. Renato pulled his machete from its sheath and ran forward, driving the blade into the wasp’s head. The insect stopped moving.

  Pain gave way to a numbness that spread through Andre’s shoulder and down his chest. On gut reaction, he used his good arm to cradle the damaged left shoulder. Not that it mattered. He knew he was about to die.

  The wasp jerked its abdomen down again. This time, its stinger struck the top of Andre’s skull. He convulsed once from the blow and then venom spurted into his brain. His mind blanked out. Andre was only vaguely aware of being lifted off the ground before he lapsed into a coma.

  Slava had pulled back the bolt on his FAMAS when he saw the wasp drive its stinger into Andre’s head. Tears welled up in his eyes.

  Dear God, don’t let him die this way.

  Clutching Andre’s body between its legs, the wasp took off and headed away from the square. Slava raised the automatic weapon and emptied the magazine, missing because of his blurred vision. The wasp dropped low and skimmed across the square before disappearing down a side street.

  Slava sat in the center of the square on his knees, sobbing like a child.

  Sasha surveyed the situation. Petra reached the church with the stray horse. Jason and Doc were still limping across the square and would be safe in a few minutes. The two werehounds joined them, protecting their master.

  No more wasps were left except the crippled one slowly crawling back toward the church. Riding over behind it, Sasha aimed the minigun and squeezed the trigger. She held it down for a good ten seconds, as much to kill the Hell Spawn as to purge her anger. When she was done, it was unrecognizable.

  Sasha glanced over at Slava and silently wept with him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The survivors stood in a circle at the front of the nave to be as far away as possible from the dead wasp sprawled across the north transept floor. Lilith and Lucifer, now back in their dog-like forms, sniffed and pawed at the carcass. The horses rested in the south transept, with Petra tending to them. Jason leaned against the wall, replaying in his mind the death struggle he had gone through. Doc sat on the pew nearest the group, sipping water from a canteen while Neal checked his vital signs. Still trying to recover from the loss of his friend, Slava sat at the far end of the pew, occasionally wiping tears from his eyes. Haneef positioned himself by the exit, his minigun reloaded and drawn, scanning the outside for any more insects that might be around.

  Sasha broke the silence. “Neal, how’s Doc?”

  “He’s winded from the fall, and his back muscles are badly bruised. Thankfully he didn’t hit his head, so there’s no concussion.”

  “Is he well enough to travel?”

  “He should be after a few hours’ rest.”

  Doc wiped the canteen across his face, mixing the condensation with his sweat. “I’ll be fine. Give me a few minutes to catch my breath, and then we can move out.”

  “To where?” asked Antoine.

  Sasha crinkled her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  “Are we continuing to Paris or heading home?”

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” said David. “It’s too dangerous to continue.”

  “It’s just as dangerous to go back,” Franco replied. “Remember, there’s a swarm of Nachzehrer between us and Mont St. Michel, way too many for us to handle.”

  “So?” David tried to drum up support from the others. “They were heading south, so we’ll go north.”

  “Suppose there’s an even bigger swarm to the north?” Ray chimed in.

  “Now you’re guessing.”

  Most of the group began to debate amongst themselves, each expressing his or her opinion of why they should proceed ahead or go back. It soon devolved into a series of arguments that became more vocal as tempers flared. Jason listened with a growing sense of disgust. He stepped away from the wall and rejoined the group. “We’re going to P
aris.”

  “You’re not serious?” asked Reinhard.

  “I am.”

  “How many more people do you vant to get killed?”

  Jason glared at Reinhard. The German stood straight, towering six inches above Jason and holding his ground. For a moment, Jason considered taking a swing at him.

  Sasha broke the standoff. “Jason, Reinhard is an asshole, but he’s right. We’ve only been on the road two days, and we’ve already lost two of our group. God knows what other Hell Spawn are waiting for us between here and Paris. If we continue, more of us are going to die.”

  Jason softened his anger when he answered her, although his tone remained firm. “We knew there’d be risks when we set out.”

  Sasha pointed to the wasp lying on the transept tiles. “We’re not ready for this.”

  “And do you think Mont St. Michel is? Do you think they can defend against these wasps or the pus zombies, or whatever else is out here? They’re depending on us.”

  “Who’s ‘they’?” Josh snorted. “Jacques and the other elitists who never leave the Abbey?”

  “No.” Jason snapped. “I’m talking about the refugees outside of town. What do you think is going to happen to them once the Nachzehrer reach Mont St. Michel? If you don’t care about them, what about us? How long would we survive a siege from the Hell Spawn? I don’t want to go back to wait around to die.”

  Sasha moved closer to Jason and spoke softly. “Are you sure you’re not pushing for this because of your mother?”

  The question did not anger him as it usually would have. He had moved beyond that. “My mother destroyed the world because of her recklessness. Nothing I can do will alter the past or how history views her. I realize that now.” Jason looked at each of the others. “However, we have a chance to close down the Hell Gate and take this world back. Not to make amends for anything my mother did, but because it’s the right thing to do. That should be reason enough to push on.”