“You realize what you’re getting us into?” asked Doc. He meant it as an honest question. There was no anger or recrimination in his voice.
“I have no idea what we’re getting into. It’ll probably be a lot worse than what we’ve encountered so far. Are you….” Jason scanned the others standing around him. “…any of you willing to go back to camp and tell the others we didn’t try because it was too hard?”
No one answered. Jason turned to Slava. “What would Andre have done?”
The Russian sniffed. “He would have told us to nut up and move out.”
“I’m with you,” Sasha said to Jason. She reached out and gave his arm a squeeze.
Jason smiled at her and turned to Haneef. “What about you?”
Haneef shrugged. “It’s Allah’s will.”
“Doc?”
“What choice do I have?” he said affably. “I’m the only one who knows how to use the device.”
With the team leaders in consent, the others chimed in their agreement, except for Reinhard. Jason walked over to him, having to look up to meet his gaze. “And you?”
A grin of respect pierced his lips. “A German never backs down from a good fight. Count me in.”
“Thank you.”
Antoine crossed his arms across his chest. “With Andre gone, who’s going to lead us?”
Shit, I hadn’t thought about that. Jason hesitated only a moment before responding. “Slava will.”
The Russian’s head shot up. “No way.”
“Why not? You’re Andre’s second in command.”
“I am… was his friend. I’m a follower, not a leader.”
Jason sighed. “Sasha, I don’t think anyone will take offense if you’re in charge.”
Sasha raised her minigun. “Haneef and I have enough to do lugging these things around. Doc should be the one to take command.”
Doc shook his head. He stood up, using his arm to support his shaky legs. “Face it, Jason. You’re the only one here dedicated to this mission. You’re also the only one qualified to lead us. If you won’t do it, then we should head home.”
Jason expected someone to object. He wanted someone to object. That would give him a reason to refuse. Instead, to his shock, they all sought guidance from him. Somehow this whole mission had now fallen on his shoulders. If he declined, the others would vote to return to Mont St. Michel, and they would never close the Hell Gate. Whatever happened then would be on his conscious. If they continued, he would be responsible for everyone, and he knew that some of them, if not most, would never make it out alive. In either case, he would have blood on his hands. The question was how much.
Jason made his decision. “Saddle up. We move out in ten minutes. Who has the spare map?”
Slava reached into his inner jacket pocket. “I do.”
“You keep it, and stay close to me.” Jason faced the door. “Sasha, Haneef. You’re my back-ups in case something happens to me. Let’s go over our strategy for the next leg of the mission.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jason left St. Gervais through the north transept and reined in his horse at the top of the stairs. Lilith and Lucifer flanked him. Haneef and Sasha stepped out after him and stood on either side of the church doors. Placing their backs against the façade, they unslung their miniguns and held them in the firing position. When the two gunners nodded they were ready, Jason proceeded down the stairs and into the street. Lilith and Lucifer stayed by him.
He glanced up at the bell tower where the nest originated, searching for movement. The thought occurred to him that they should have checked out the tower from the inside in case the wasp that took away Andre had doubled back. What good would it do? He had watched Andre take a stinger to the head, which must have scrambled the Russian’s brains. They wouldn’t be able to do anything for him, and taking the time to search the tower would only delay their getting back on the road. Besides, he didn’t really want to know what was up there.
Jason and the werehounds traveled two hundred feet down the street, making as much noise as possible to attract the wasp. The rustling of wings fluttered across the square. His horse jumped back, almost throwing him from the mount. It even startled the werehounds. Jason spun around in the direction of the noise, expecting to see the surviving wasp bearing down on him. Instead, the commotion came from a flock of birds that had been resting in the shade of the water fountain and had taken flight. Only then did Jason notice that he had been holding his breath and that his bowels and kidneys were straining not to open up.
Some leader I am.
Jason scanned the roads for Nachzehrer or other Hell Spawn. Once certain no dangers lurked nearby, he stopped his horse and waved the others on. One by one they exited the church. Petra and Sook-kyoung brought out Sasha and Haneef’s horses and helped them into the saddle. Once the group gathered, the three teams formed up in single file, only this time each team kept a distance of fifty feet between themselves.
Jason stayed ahead of the others, reconnoitering the area. He set off to the right down Rue Gonfroy Fitz Rou, only pausing when he reached Rue Champ St. Michel. When his team had caught up and could cover him, he set off down Rue Champ St. Michel and headed for the edge of town. His team stayed one hundred feet behind him. It took less than an hour for them to cross Falaise. They exited the city into the woods, which they followed into open farmland before heading northeast for the N13, the main highway running between Caen and Paris. He planned to cross the N13 a few miles east of Lisieux and head east until they reached the Seine. After that, they would follow the river to Paris. By using this route rather than the main roads, Jason figured the team would encounter fewer Hell Spawn.
At least that is what Jason hoped.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The rest of the day passed without incident, which Jason was grateful for. The group had stopped around one o’clock for lunch, rested for an hour, and set off again. With luck, they would cross the N13 by dusk and set up camp for the night near the Seine.
As they approached the N13 halfway between L’Hotellerie and Thiberville, he noticed something out of place a quarter of a mile ahead of him. Much of the surrounding countryside on this side of the highway had been scorched black. Several wrecked vehicles stretched eastward for half a mile, ending near a pile of debris that stood in their path. Something stuck up from the road, towering sixty feet in the air. He assumed it was metal by the way it reflected the sunlight. Another large object sat on the embankment in the center of a scorched area, the tip also reflecting the sun.
Jason stopped his horse and called for the others to join him, waiting until they had gathered around.
“I want to check out what’s up ahead. Sasha, your team is with me. The rest of you stay here and keep your eyes open. If you see any danger, fire off a few shots to get our attention and we’ll fall back on you.”
As the others formed a defensive circle in the field, Jason and Sasha’s team approached the highway. They formed a line abreast, Sasha, Reinhard, and Antoine on Jason’s right, the Gainesville Mafia on his left. Lucifer and Lilith raced ahead to scout for danger. Jason kept his eyes focused on the highway, scanning it for any signs of Hell Spawn. When they approached to within one hundred feet, he shifted his attention to the object resting on the embankment. It was charred and twisted. At first, he didn’t recognize it. As they drew closer, though, he realized it was the port wing of a passenger aircraft. The engine had been torn off, leaving only the mount still attached. The wing itself, except for the tip, had been seared black by fire, most likely from the fuel tanks igniting.
They maneuvered their horses up the embankment and onto the N13.
“Oh dear God,” Sasha gasped. Jason thought it was an understatement.
The team stood in the middle of a crash site. It began six hundred feet to their right with two crushed cars in the westbound lanes and the remains of an eighteen-wheeler in the eastbound. The top of the trailer had been sheared off. Scorched ea
rth began at the truck and curved to the left, finally ending where the port wing sat charred on the embankment. Beginning after the eighteen-wheeler, the pavement in the westbound lane was dug up as if something huge had dug its way across the surface. Chunks of metal, debris, and luggage littered the highway. Jason could make out a set of wrecked landing gear. The destroyed section of highway ended at the object that jutted up. At this distance, Jason could see it was the severed tail of the passenger liner that had been upended. The blue stripes of an Air France jet weathered from exposure to the sun and the elements, were still visible.
A breeze blew in from the west, bringing with it the smell of death. The others unslung their weapons and prepared to defend themselves. Jason knew the smell didn’t belong to Nachzehrer because he couldn’t sense their presence. Nor did Lucifer or Lilith react. Besides, rather than their sickeningly sweet stench, this smelled like charred meat although less pungent, as if it had been diluted with time. He immediately knew where the odor came from.
“Stand down,” he ordered. “We’re not in any danger.”
“How can you be so sure?” asked Antoine.
Jason didn’t reply. Spurring on his horse, he headed left around the tail section. The others followed with their weapons still at the ready.
Reaching the opposite embankment, Jason’s fears were confirmed. The main body of the airliner sat on the embankment, its nose pointing toward the field beyond, the metal and interior cabin scorched from the flames. A line of crumbled bodies stretched between the tail section and fuselage, with a mass of charred human remains bunched around the latter, survivors who had tried to escape while on fire and burned to death before they made it very far. Half a dozen other bodies spread out from the wreck, their remains only partially charred. Jason didn’t even want to think about the horrors inside the aircraft.
The front doors were open and the emergency chutes deployed, so at least a few people had made it out alive.
The wind blew again, wafting over the wreckage and filling their nostrils with the stench of charred meat. Bill leaned to one side and vomited his lunch onto the highway.
Sasha grew pale. “Wh-what happened?”
Josh moved up beside Jason to get a closer look. “The plane must have been taking off from Charles de Gaulle Airport when the EMP hit. The pilot tried to land on the highway rather than crash into a field. He might have made it if it wasn’t for the stalled vehicles. At least it happened quickly.”
“We’ve seen worse,” Antoine added matter-of-factly.
“How can you say that?” snapped Sasha. “Those people burned to death.”
“They were the lucky ones,” said Jason. “Did you notice the bodies that were only partially charred? The rest of their bodies didn’t decay. They were stripped clean.”
“By Nachzehrer?” Reinhard’s voice croaked.
“Probably.”
Antoine chuckled. “Now the Nachzehrer are into barbecue.”
Sasha glared at the Moroccan, spun her horse around, and headed back to the others.
“What do we do now?” asked Shane.
“They’re dead, and we can’t do anything for them.” Jason nudged his horse so he faced Shane. “Go back and tell the others we’ll cross here as planned. Warn them it’s gruesome so no one freaks out. The rest of us will wait here.”
Shane nodded and road off after Sasha.
Jason looked at the rest of the team. “Spread out and keep about a hundred feet between you. Let me know if you see anything moving. Once the others have passed, fall back into line.”
They acknowledged him and rode off to take up guard positions. Jason moved eastward down the highway, finding a spot where the pavement seemed easy enough to cross. The werehounds fell in behind him. He would stay here and usher the others through the wreckage.
Though outwardly calm, Jason’s nerves were on edge. Not because of the carnage they had come across. In that respect, Antoine was correct. They had all seen worse. As they got closer to Paris, they came across an increasingly greater level of destruction and even more ferocious Hell Spawn. He had no idea what would be waiting for them when they reached the city. And as had been proven back in Falaise, his ability to sense the Nachzehrer and soul vampires didn’t extend to all Hell Spawn. Although he would never admit it to the others, he feared what they would find waiting for them.
He also feared that he didn’t know how well he could lead them once they entered the city.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The group stopped for the night five miles northeast of Thiberville. Jason ordered them to set up camp several hundred feet into the woods, that way they could build a fire that would not be seen. As always, each team took a four-hour guard shift along the perimeter, with Haneef’s team drawing the first watch. When dinner ended, Jason made his way over to Doc, with Lucifer and Lilith in tow. Doc was rolling out his sleeping bag as Jason sat down on a rotted log. Blonde hair fell across his face. Jason tried to blow it away. It kept falling back, so he pushed it aside with his hand. The werehounds curled up on either side of him.
“Do you have a minute? I’m curious about something.”
“What’s up?”
“Why didn’t I detect those wasps this morning before they attacked? I always know when Nachzehrer or soul vampires are around, and I even felt a faint aura from the pus zombies, but I had no idea these particular Hell Spawn were in the area until we heard their buzzing.” Jason leaned closer and glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one could hear him. “You don’t think I’m losing my ability to sense these things, do you?”
Doc paused. “I’ve been thinking about that. The common link between the Hell Spawn we’ve encountered previously is human souls. Every time we’ve killed a Nachzehrer we’ve seen the life force escape, which I can only assume are their souls. And since pus zombies were once human, I assume their souls are probably still present inside the body. And of course, the soul vampires feed off of them. That’s where I think your psychic link is–with the souls. The wasps, on the other hand, were just monsters. So it makes sense you wouldn’t have a link with them.”
“Great.” Jason sat back and sighed. “So I could wind up leading us all into a trap.”
“No more than any of us would. At least now we know that you’re not able to detect every Hell Spawn we’ll encounter, so we won’t get caught off guard again.”
“That’s not much comfort.”
Doc chuckled and went back to spreading out his sleeping bag.
“How are you feeling?” asked Jason.
“My back and shoulders hurt from the fall. And when I hit the ground, the device slammed into my sternum pretty hard. I think I may have bruised a rib. It’s going to hurt a lot more in the morning.”
“Do you feel well enough to go on?”
“Hell, yes.”
“Good.” Jason felt an honest concern for the Doc’s well-being, so he broached the next subject carefully. “I need you to do something for me.”
“What’s that?”
“I need you to teach me and some of the others how the device works.”
Doc was crestfallen. “Are you planning on sending me back?”
“No. But the incident with the wasps got me thinking. You’re the only one who knows how to use that thing. If the Hell Spawn take you out, this mission fails. I figure the more of us who know how to deploy it, the greater our chances of success.”
Doc thought about that for a few seconds. “Fair enough.”
Once finished laying out his sleeping bag, Doc grabbed the saddlebag with the device and placed it in front of him. As he talked, he unlatched the flap and pulled it back.
“The design is quite simple. It has to be, otherwise, I never would have been able to put it together without machine tools.”
Doc reached into the bag with his good hand and removed the device. It was the shape of a football, only twice as large. The outside cladding was stainless steel. A one-inch rim ran up and down the leng
th of the device and allowed the two halves to be joined together with more than a dozen bolts. Jason sat forward and stared. It was the first time he had seen it. Doc handed it to him. Jason gingerly took it, intuitively knowing the destructive power it possessed.
“Usually antimatter is created in a gaseous state, which is highly unstable. A year ago, your mother and I found a way to turn it into a solid. Theoretically, antimatter in a solid state will still react violently if exposed to matter. We created six samples of solid antimatter and stored them in these containers at CERN, which were left behind during the evacuation. That was the reason why Jacques sent Gruber’s team to CERN–to retrieve those samples.”
“Why didn’t you or Jacques tell anyone?”
“We didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. If those samples were destroyed, then this entire mission would have been scrapped.”
Jason nodded. “Are all six samples in here?”
“No, this is just one of them. I left the others safely stored back in the infirmary. If for some reason this fails, I wanted to have back up.” Doc pointed to the device. “The design is very simple. A chunk of solidified antimatter sits at the center of the device in a vacuum inside a thick glass sphere. The antimatter is held in place in the center of the vacuum by magnets surrounding the sphere.”
“How do you detonate it?”
“All you have to do is throw it into the Hell Gate.”
Jason furrowed his eyebrows. “That’s it?”
Doc nodded. “I got the idea after what happened to my arm. The Hell Gate in Paris is an exit portal, so nothing from this world will be able to pass through without being destroyed. That means all you have to do is throw the device through the portal. The casing, nesting, and tube should disintegrate instantly. Once the antimatter is exposed, it should generate an explosion that, with luck, will snuff out the Hell Gate.”
Hell Gate Page 11
