Hope in Hell (An Adam and Eve Thriller Book 6)

by Mark Ayre

  The beast too, had stopped. It stood above Adam, looming, preparing to destroy the defenceless man.

  Adam raised his arms but did not speak. No need; his actions were inviting enough.

  Eve screamed, “Adam, no.”

  She sought to throw a protective barrier around him but had neither the energy nor the time.

  The monster lunged.

  Beneath its mass, Adam disappeared.

  For Adam, the ability to walk through walls was new. He was unsure how far this extension of his power extended, though he had strong ideas.

  Reaching through the monster’s flank to grab his sister had been a leap of faith. He had no idea if his hand could pass through organic matter. Possibly, he would find himself tapping the monster as if to say, Hello, once you’ve finished killing my sister, might you consider murdering me next? If his hand did past through the beast, he might find Eve either absent or dead.

  Uncertainty brought nervousness, but it had worked out. He might not be so lucky with his next trick.

  The beast loomed over him, a mess of limbs, eyes and teeth. It was hard to concentrate when a voice in his head was screaming at him to flee; when his bladder and bowels were fighting to release their payloads, like fighter jets carrying heavy explosives over an enemy city. But concentration was key.

  His plan was twofold.

  The beast crashed down, teeth gnashing, horn slashing. Adam had to fight to keep from closing his eyes.

  Then it was over. Blood exploded from Adam’s nose, and he collapsed to his knees, then his front. His vision blurred, he blacked out for a few seconds; returned to find Eve shaking him.

  “Adam, are you okay? Adam, answer me.”

  He looked at her, reached up a trembling hand to touch her cheek. Wiping a tear onto the tip of his finger, he held it before his sister.

  “Hey, look,” he said, “you’re not a robot.”

  She slapped him. He chuckled, blacked-out another few seconds, came back groaning.

  Phase one of the plan had worked. The monster had collapsed through Adam. Hundreds of shocked eyes stared as the beast sliced through its latest victim without causing him an ounce of harm. Despite the pain, Adam had managed a cocky smile.

  Phase two was the part of the plan about which he was less confident. Here, he almost expected failure, and could only hope an adverse outcome wouldn’t involve his demise.

  “What did you do?” asked Eve. “Where did it go?”

  He hadn’t failed. Somehow, miraculously, his plan had worked.

  “I teleported it into the sun,” he said.

  “What? Really?”

  “No.” He laughed. In response, his head roared. He blacked out for a third time, waking again to Eve shaking him. “Think I need a nap.”

  “Good plan,” said Eve. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Adam smiled at his sister. They had not spoken since an agent put a bullet in her stomach outside Francis’ mansion. Adam had been in the room next door while Eve had gone under the knife and had fallen asleep by her side when she was in recovery. After that, Graham had kidnapped her. Adam had glimpsed his sister once more, in the basement where Lucy had captured them. Though that was only a couple of days ago, it felt like years.

  “Let’s not do the separation thing again,” he said.

  “My thoughts exactly. I’ve missed you.”

  “Missed you too,” he said. “Maybe it would have been better if we were siamese twins.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Would have been harder to run away, though.”

  “That’s true.”

  Pounding feet broke the moment. Eve stood in a hurry. She had no weapon but needed nothing human-made to kill whoever approached.

  Murder would be unnecessary. Graham—former kidnapper, current friend—appeared, followed by Ursula and Doc. The latter two came armed. Like Eve, Graham needed no weapons. He was deadlier than any firearm.

  “You guys are crap at running away,” said Eve. “I gave my life so you could escape.”

  “Badly, by the looks,” muttered Ursula.

  “How’s that for gratitude?”

  “We’re here to save you,” said Doc. “Adam made us feel guilty.”

  “Turns out he didn’t need you,” said Eve.

  “Where did the monster go?” asked Ursula.

  “Teleported it into the sun,” Adam muttered, trying to stand. He got halfway before the ground seemingly leapt to meet him. “I’m in a lot of pain.”

  “Graham, you may need to carry him,” said Eve. “Where’s my mother?”

  “Our mother,” said Adam.

  “We had to leave her to get you,” said Doc. “She’s with the others.”

  “Any luck, Rachel’s killed her,” said Ursula.

  “Omi wouldn’t let that happen,” said Doc.

  “Let’s hope not,” said Eve. “Or I’ll kill Rachel.”

  This seemed an odd reaction from Eve, given she had threatened to kill her mother many times and had never seemed bothered when they believed her dead. Had there been the time, Adam would have congratulated his sister on her personal growth. Unfortunately, he had warnings to impart.

  Despite the swelling migraine, which increased in its capacity to cause pain every couple of seconds, Adam managed to rise to a leaning position, against a wall. He teetered, struggled to stay up. Eve noticed.

  “We have to get out of here,” she said.

  “Good plan,” noted Doc.

  Adam stumbled. Only stayed upright because of Graham’s impressive reaction speed, grabbing Adam’s arm before he could fall. Once Adam was steady, holding the seven-foot-man, he shook his head.

  “We can’t go anywhere. I believe the monster was the herald of something far worse. It’s happening right here, right now, and only we can stop it.”

  Ursula raised her eyebrows. Doc looked confused.

  Eve said, “It’s not the fall of humanity, is it?”

  Adam met her eye, “You heard about that?”

  “Pretty much. Not sure what we can do to stop it though.”

  Adam released Graham’s arm. He pushed from the wall and walked as though on a tightrope, hundreds of feet above the ground. Once he was sure he was not going to fall, he smiled at the group.

  “We just defeated a terrifying, unstoppable monster,” he said. “There’s nothing we can’t do.”

  This line of reasoning might have won over his comrades. Before it had a chance, a thunderous crash came from below, as though the Earth’s core was exploding. The ground beneath Adam’s feet split, a deep gouge revealing the dirt below the metal.

  “Well—” he started.

  Like a demonic, deadly plant, a tentacle sprung from the dirt, smacking Adam’s chest, sending him tumbling backwards. As he landed a second crash preceded the appearance of a second gouge.

  Another tentacle followed the first. Then a hand.

  All eyes were on the rising limbs, except for Ursula’s. She looked at Adam.

  “I think,” she said, “someone needs to explain to you where they keep the sun.”

  Omi paced. Blind since birth, Delilah could not see him. With well-trained ears, she tracked him. From his movements learning the room into which they had retreated was small, the single bed, in which another red room child lay, taking up almost a quarter of the available space. In Omi’s breathing, she tracked the growth of his agitation. Soon, he would be beyond the point of reason.

  “They’ll be back soon,” she said.

  “Rachel and Cassandra? I don’t doubt it.”

  Cassandra was another red room child, Rachel her mother. Belligerent and bearing a shotgun, the mum had chosen to go after her daughter alone.

  “Not just them,” said Delilah. “Adam, Eve, Graham, Doc, Ursula. They’ll all be back soon.”

  “They’ll be dead soon,” muttered Omi. “You saw the monster they’re taking on.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  She heard Omi’s sigh. He was not angry at her,
but at himself, for forgetting her disability.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “But you don’t understand. That thing is still out there, and yet we wait around to die. All I want is to protect you, and that means getting out, and getting out now, while we can.”

  “And abandoning all those who have suffered like me? Letting them die so we can escape? My life will be short, but I don’t want to spend it feeling guilty.”

  Another sigh, this one expressing frustration at Delilah. She heard Omi pivot to face her mother, who trembled in a corner. Withdrawal, Delilah knew, though Hattie had never spoken with her daughter about her drinking.

  “Will you talk to her?” he said.

  There was a pause. Hattie considered the question. Delilah knew she had shaken her head when Omi gave another gasp of exasperation.

  “We need to stay,” said Hattie.

  “You can’t be serious?”

  Another silence. Delilah’s mother had never been eloquent, but Deliah sensed she was determined to get this next speech right.

  At last, she said, “Omi, I’m seventeen. A kid. My parents chucked me out because of who I am, made me desperate and alone. When I found the organisation, I came seeking shelter and protection, a bit of money so I could try and make something of my life. What I got was even better; a beautiful little girl. I didn’t mind how much harder having her would make my already difficult life. Because of the love I felt. I would make it work.”

  “Hattie,” started Omi. “I know all—”

  “Except I wasn’t allowed to make it work, was I?” she cut in. “With you, I was sent to the farmhouse. Rather than a new life, they gave me a prison sentence and an alcohol addiction. When I learned my daughter was ageing a year for every month of her life, they told me to get on with it. It’s eight months since I gave birth, and my daughter seems to be only nine years younger than me. Within a year, I’ll look like her little sister. Before I’m 25 I’ll have…” she stopped, the tears coming. She had realised what she was about to say. “Delilah, I’m sorry.”

  Delilah had been leaning against the bed. She rose and followed her mother’s tears to the opposite end of the room. She held out a hand and let her mother position her for a hug. They clung to each other.

  “Don’t be sorry,” said Delilah.

  “I just want to make you proud.”

  “You do. Mummy, you make me so proud. I love you all the much.”

  “I love you with all my heart.”

  They held each other, Hattie crying and Delilah fighting tears of her own. Omi had stopped pacing. Though Delilah could no longer hear him, she knew he was watching them.

  After a while, Hattie continued, “Over the last thirty years, this organisation has ruined hundreds of lives. If we walk away, we can be safe while it ruins thousands more. If my daughter wants us to stay to fight beside others who have been hurt by those who hurt us, I support her. I hope you’ll do the same, but if you’re not up to it, there’s the door.”

  Ever tighter, Hattie held Delilah, and Delilah hugged her mother tight back. After another sigh, Omi approached. He sat opposite them and reached out a hand, taking Delilah’s.

  “Don’t be silly,” he said. “You know I’ll stand with you always.”

  He squeezed.

  “Let’s do this.”

  Adam was trying to rise, desperate to put the creature back into the ground. Presumably further, this time.

  Eve shouted, “Stay where you are,” to her brother. To the others, she said, “weapons at the ready.”

  More limbs were bursting from the ground; the tentacles ranging in thickness, length and speed of movement, the hands varying by number of fingers, fingernail length and strength of grip. They reached for Adam on one side, the rest on the other.

  Eve cast two shields. She had yet to recover from her last bout with the beast. Luckily, being half-submerged, most of its limbs and both heads still trapped, the creature was not close to firing on all cylinders. Its tentacles and hands slapped at the barriers, but with nothing approaching the force needed to shatter them.

  Graham stepped towards their foe. Eve raised a halting hand.

  “Not yet.”

  Somewhere beneath their feet, the bulk of the monster was forcing its way upwards. Every few seconds, the gouges grew a little wider, and a few more limbs burst through. Both Doc and Ursula had raised their guns but looked unsure. Eve turned to them.

  “Aim for the largest holes,” she said. “Ursula, as soon as you see the head with all the eyes and teeth, pull that trigger, blow it away. Doc, same instruction but with the horned head. Got it?”

  There was no questioning her orders this time. Both Ursula and Doc grunted acceptance and stepped a little closer, aiming at the holes through which the beast continued to squeeze. Only Graham seemed restless, frustrated.

  “Don’t worry,” said Eve. “You’ll get a go this time. But I need you to wait until the timing is right. Can you do that?”

  Graham seemed unsure. He rocked on the balls of his feet, rearing to go. After Eve cast him a powerful look, he bowed his head and nodded.

  “Good. Get ready.”

  Another crack as the ground ripped further apart. This time, from beneath: an explosion of limbs. They flailed and flashed, forming a curtain through which it was hard to see, as if they knew the danger their heads would soon be in and wanted to make hard targets of their most vital body parts.

  Crack—more limbs and now part of the torso. The tentacles waved like vile seaweed, floating in the ocean; the line of hands became a grotesque picket fence. They continued to batter against the shields on both sides. Not one limb was particularly powerful. For the first time, the sheer mass began to unnerve Eve. The continued hits were starting to force her back. Before long, if the heads didn’t arrive, the army of arms and tentacles would breach her defences.

  Then: “There’s mine,” shouted Doc. He took another step forward, gun aimed. “I can’t get a clear shot.”

  “Hold on,” shouted Eve.

  It was a risk, given her shields were already weakening. Regardless, she stepped in line with Doc and split her focus. Immediately, the blasts stung all the more; she could feel her defences strain.

  “There’s the other one,” shouted Ursula. She had pulled forward but could get no more precise a shot than could Doc.

  “Hold it,” shouted Eve.

  The shield on Adam’s side broke. A tentacle grabbed one of his legs, a hand attached to a particularly long arm grabbed the other.

  Eve wanted to call to him but held her nerve, Raising her hands she placed her palms together as though mid-clap. She focused on every limb and…

  Ripped apart her palms.

  Like the Red Sea for Moses, the limbs parted, half flying to the left wall, half to the right.

  Adam screamed as two parting limbs almost tore him in half.

  But both heads were exposed.

  “Now,” shouted Eve.

  As she did, large chunks of floor began to tear away. The beast had reached its tipping point. The rest of its vile form was set to emerge.

  Then they’d be finished.

  Roaring, though it could not have helped them aim, Ursula and Doc fired. Each emptied their clip into the chosen head, putting bullet after bullet into the creature.

  Ursula ran dry first, Doc seconds later. Each head lay as a tattered mess upon the body while new holes revealed the beast’s innards. Blue-grey blood covered the limbs, the floor, the walls.

  Still, the beast rose. Slower, but not so slow as to convince Eve it would die if left to its own devices.

  Ursula and Doc were reloading.

  Beside Eve: a low, insistent growl.

  Nodding, she said, “Go get it.”

  With a roar of excitement, Graham dived at the monster. Even without its heads, the beast must have sensed the danger. Eve was almost tossed to the ground as it tried with renewed energy to yank free its limbs. Eve refused to let go.

  Grendel landed on
the almost free torso, immediately tearing into the holes left by the bullets that had come before.

  Doc had reloaded. He aimed.

  “No,” said Ursula. “You’ll hit my son.”

  “Isn’t he bulletproof?”

  “Pull that trigger, and we’ll learn if you are.”

  Doc glanced at Ursula, saw steely seriousness in her eyes. Dropped his arms with a shrug.

  “Whatever.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Eve. “I don’t think we’ll be needing any more bullets.”

  The limbs continued their struggle, but they troubled Eve less with each passing second. Graham, moving with his usual impressive speed, had torn into the beast and disappeared to his waist into the creatures torso. If the monster had a heart, Graham would have dinner.

  “Man, this is rank,” said Doc.

  “Watch it,” hissed Ursula.

  Within five minutes, Eve felt secure enough to release the tentacles. Most dropped immediately. Some drooped, wilting like dying flowers. A few gave half-hearted waves or crawled like slugs towards their enemies, none of whom retreated. They could tell the danger had passed.

  After another five, all the limbs were still. The beast moved no more. The only sound was Graham, continuing to work his way through the entrails, as though to make doubly sure they had vanquished the creature.

  Feeling a little queasy watching, Eve stepped over the limbs, past the feasting Grendel, and made her way to Adam, who had crawled to one side of the corridor and was nursing his groin.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I acted in the moment, wasn’t thinking. Just wanted it dead.”

  “It’s fine,” he said, holding out a hand. “So long as you didn’t want to be an auntie.”

  She laughed; he smiled. Taking his hand, she pulled him to feet, put his arm around her shoulder to steady him. From putting the beast through the floor, he was still in much pain. Together, they watched Graham’s legs flail in the air.