There was a brief cheer from the gathered forces, but it was not as loud as he’d hoped. While his long-standing troops were proudly British, those who had served under Wickstaff seemed to have shed their national identity. It would take some time to restore their patriotism, especially in those who hailed from foreign climes. Nonetheless, he was duty-bound to try. “Our enemy is wounded, and we must be merciless. We must show our foe the same savagery it showed to us. We must not relent. We must not stop. The fight can only end once our homeland is wholly liberated. There will be battles to come, I assure you, for the enemy will now do the only thing it can. It shall rally its remaining forces and attempt, one last time, to annihilate us. We must ready our daggers to plunge into the heart of that dying beast, and to do so we must stand together. No longer shall there be soldiers and civilians. From this day forward, we are all soldiers. All shall be trained. All shall receive their duties with courage and conviction. We must fight as one and for each other, or we shall surely die.”
Muffled dissent spread through the far edges of the crowd. That they even dared to consider the veracity of his words inflamed Thomas greatly. His heart pounded in his chest. “What I speak of is not optional. Portsmouth will become a well-oiled machine of war. Anyone impeding its efficiency shall find themselves unwelcome within its walls. Burdens will not be tolerated.”
“Murderer!” someone shouted.
“Long live General Wickstaff!” yelled another.
Thomas’s cheeks grew hot. He searched the crowd – whoever had shouted would be shot – but he couldn’t identify the offenders. The sheer number of bodies packed together ensured anonymity. His rage spilled out, but he forced himself to contain it. This was not the time for blunt force. “I understand the loss many of you are feeling. Amanda Wickstaff was a hero in the truest sense of the word. She fought alongside you, risking death and injury when she could have sat back and sent others to their deaths. She led Portsmouth to victory after victory in the absence of any established authority. No doubt she was the finest of women and the bravest of souls, but she was also tired. Upon my arrival in Portsmouth, Amanda expressed her relief to me. She was grateful to hand over the mantel and rest. Unfortunately, she never got the chance. The enemy took her from us. Please know that I am not seeking to replace Amanda Wickstaff, only to protect what she has built. As long as Portsmouth stands, she will never be forgotten. She will be the first and most revered saint of our new world. Future generations shall praise her name. For those of you who resent me being here, please know that Amanda Wickstaff welcomed me. So I ask you – no, I beg of you – to please move forward and focus on our true enemy. Let’s wipe those demon bastards off the face of the Earth.” He hated to use the D word – it reeked of hysteria – but he knew the reaction it elicited in people. Their mutual hatred and fear of their enemy galvanised them and made them family. By using the word, he was one of them. He also hated having to indulge the hero worship of his ignorant predecessor, but it was a necessary evil. If Portsmouth had remained in Amanda Wickstaff’s charge, it would have become a mass grave. The woman had been soft, as all women were, and had cared about her people far too much. The only thing that mattered was the survival of the human race, and he, General Thomas, was the only person willing to lead with that sole purpose in mind.
Let people think me callous or uncaring. At least they will live.
Thomas’s words had the intended effect. The crowd directly in front of him pumped their fists and cheered. Those further afield – those struggling with past loyalties – seemed more supportive too. That was how easy it was to gain a man’s loyalty. Mere words could do it.
General Thomas turned and marched across the stage. He couldn’t help but notice the guilty flicker in Colonel Cross’s eyes as he passed the man. There had been many disappointments in the last few days, but Colonel Cross’s failure to apprehend General Wickstaff’s aide-de-camp, Maddy, was amongst the most grievous. The woman had gone missing, and the only way it could have happened was if somebody had helped her.
Was it you, Tony? Can I trust you?
Of course not. No one can be trusted.
Thomas sincerely hoped Colonel Cross was not a traitor, because it would be a shame to shoot such a useful man. But such things happened in war.
General Thomas finished his speech at around midday, which meant the sun was still shining when Tony entered the train carriage at the far end of the commercial docks. It was Commander Klein’s unofficial office, and while its nights were reserved for poker and drinking, clandestine meetings took place during the day. General Thomas knew of its existence but was yet to risk action. Commander Klein had six nuclear warheads on his submarine. That made the German commander a sovereign nation.
Tony encountered a scruffy guardsman at the carriage’s sliding door. The uniformed stranger was larger than Tony and put up a thick right hand to bar entry. “State ze business, freund.”
“Give over, pal! You know who I am, and you know Commander Klein is expecting me.”
The guardsmen continued to glare, but then a cheeky grin broke his impassivity. “I kid you, ja? Go inside now.”
It sounded like an order, but Tony knew better than to take offence. The German language was far more direct and efficient than wishy-washy English. He nodded to the guard and then went through the sliding door. The carriage’s interior was mostly uninhabited, bar Commander Klein and a single companion sitting at a table halfway down the aisle. Tony joined them. “Commander Klein, Diane, it’s good to see you both.”
“And vy is that?” asked the commander, blonde hair framing his face like a schnauzer’s muzzle.
“Because I keep expecting a bullet in my head every time I take a step. General Thomas ain’t no fool.”
“That’s exactly what he is,” said Diane, “and he’s going to die.”
Commander Klein reached sideways and patted Diane’s hand on the table. “Such fire for a tiny fraulein, but revenge is a wide arrow that often misses ze target, ja?”
Diane ignored him and turned to Tony, almost frothing at the mouth. “How can you stand to be around that monster?”
Tony sighed. Diane was operating on rage, and rage didn’t appreciate reason. “I understand what General Wickstaff meant to you – meant to a lot of people – but if I go against Thomas, he’ll have me shot. I want to see him punished for what he did, believe me, but we need to be smart about it. Whether we like it or not, he’s the only leader Portsmouth has right now. Lives depend on him. Last thing we want is a power vacuum.”
“He’s a murderer and a tyrant, and the longer he stays in charge, the harder it’ll be to get rid of him. If we act now, thousands will support us.”
Tony nodded. “And thousands won’t.”
“It vud mean war,” said Klein. “Thousands would support your crusade, Diane, ja, but General Thomas arrived with loyal men. The killing would be many. Whoever survives vud be at ze demon’s mercy. I am sorry, Diane, but Tony is correct. General Thomas needs to remain in charge until he can be peacefully removed.”
“And when the hell will that be?”
“As soon as we ready his replacement, ja?”
Diane nodded petulantly across the table. “Tony, you should lead Portsmouth. Thomas’s men respect you, and so will everyone else once we reveal the truth about Wickstaff. You’re the only choice.”
Tony pushed himself back from the table and shook his head. “General Thomas already suspects me. If I make overtures towards power, he’ll realise it right away. Supplanting him is going to take timing and finesse, neither of which I have. I’m heading out of Portsmouth tomorrow morning.”
Commander Klein leaned back against the bench cushion and gasped theatrically. “Heavens, vy?”
“To go find this Mass character that everyone in Portsmouth seems to regard so highly. He’s been away for more than a week, so Thomas has ordered me to go and find him.”
Diane rolled her eyes. “He’s hoping you’ll die out ther
e.”
Tony wished he could disagree. “My orders are to execute Mass and his men as soon as I find him. My death’ll probably come soon after. Two birds, one stone.”
Diane rose from her seat, fists clenched. “Your orders are to do what?”
“To kill Mass.”
Klein eased Diane back down onto the bench and told her to calm herself. Then he stared at Tony beneath his thin blonde eyebrows. “I assume you vill disobey zis order to kill Mass?”
“Of course. I’m not in the business of murdering local heroes.”
“Vy does Thomas consider Mass a threat?”
Diane answered the question. “Because he’s a badass, and when he finds out about Wickstaff, he’ll come at Thomas like a force of nature. I can’t wait to see it.”
Tony nodded. Diane was exactly right. “Thomas has heard the same things we all have about Mass. That he and his Urban Vampires are the best of the best. A dozen of them are currently furloughed in Portsmouth. I’m going to ask them to come join me on the road. If we find Mass, they can take him north to meet up with Maddy. The only problem will be the men Thomas selects to go with me. They’re not going to like the change of plan.”
Diane was wringing her hands on the table, clearly unhappy and still operating in rage-mode. Her words came out like poison. “I still don’t hear anything that ends with General Thomas choking on his own blood.”
“Survival is our mission,” said Klein. “Portsmouth needs to stand ready against ze remaining demon forces, but we three also need to think about our own skins, ja? Diane, see me now when I tell you zat I was fond of General Wickstaff. She demanded nothing of men but bravery and compassion. Zis General Thomas is a man who lacks faith in anything but himself, and I have no time for arrogant men. Their actions stain our history books.”
Tony let his head tilt back and closed his eyes. It was only late afternoon, but he was exhausted. Every night for a week he had lain awake, anxious that his door was going to be kicked in by military police or – even worse – hitmen. He lowered his gaze and sighed. “I used to dream of having a wife and children, of opening a little corner shop in some sleepy village where everyone knows each other. Now all I want to do is to lie down in the middle of an empty field and stare up at the sky without fear of being torn apart by monsters. I want a moment’s peace before I die. That’s all.”
Klein nodded. “I vud like to see my home again. I spent my life at sea, expecting to return in old age. Now my final years have arrived and I find myself further away zan ever.”
Tony glanced at Diane. He wanted to help the girl see past her rage. “What about you, Diane? What do you wish for?”
She seemed surprised by the question, and her eyes flickered with sadness. She opened her mouth to speak but then changed her mind. Without uttering a single word, she stood from the table and exited the carriage.
Klein raised his eyebrows. “Zat girl frightens me more zan a leaking hatch at ze bottom of the sea.”
“She’s angry,” said Tony. “I don’t blame her. Wickstaff was a saviour to a lot of people. Now that she’s dead, she’s become a martyr.”
“A dangerous zing.”
“Keep an eye on her, Klein. While I’m gone, I mean.”
The German officer chuckled. “I keep an eye on everything, Tony, don’t you know? Take care on your trip. I enjoy your company.”
Tony stood and offered a handshake. “I’ll send you a postcard.”
“Auf wiedersehen, Colonel. I hope you return in good health.”
“Don’t count on it.”
Mass spat blood on the floorboards, awaiting his death – a death that had been hounding him for a week now, a death that would not stop chasing him. He knew the moment it had all gone wrong. It had been one week ago. He’d been huddled in the rear of an overturned coach with Addy, Tox, Smithy, and a dozen screaming women – chattel rescued from a monster named Naseem hours earlier.
They’d have been better off if I’d left them at the farm. Some hero I turned out to be.
I never wanted to be a hero.
Back then in the coach, Mass had searched desperately for his handgun, which had fallen under the seats, but try as he might, he could not find the damn thing. Only Smithy had a weapon – but there was no way to fire it inside their cramped confines without deafening themselves.
Demons surrounded the upturned coach, their crooked faces pressed against the cracked windows, their shadows melting into the nearby undergrowth. The coach was a henhouse surrounded by foxes, and Mass and his companions were the hens.
“What’s the plan, big man?” Smithy managed to sound unconcerned by their imminent deaths. Unflappability was his Smithy skill, even with a massive gash bleeding on his forehead. “You have a plan, right? A good one I’ll bet. Come on, tell us how you’re gonna save the day. Please?”
“I don’t have a plan. We need to get the women out of here.”
“Too right,” said Tox, covering his ears to drown out their screaming. “They’re driving me insane.”
“They’re afraid,” said Addy, pushing against one of the windows that was starting to crack. “Who can blame them?”
Smithy threw down his hunting rifle, knowing it was of no use, then rummaged beneath the seats and around the window ledges.
Tox grunted. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for a solution. My mum always told me that the worst thing you can do in a crisis is nothing.”
Tox sighed, but his displeasure went ignored. Addy joined Smithy in his search, getting down on her belly and looking under the seats for something to help. There was little chance of an apache helicopter appearing and blasting them a way out, but maybe they could find something.
The first thing Mass spotted was a handheld fire extinguisher mounted against the coach’s fire escape. He grabbed the small red canister in both hands and examined it. “We have a chance,” he muttered, not fully knowing his own thoughts until the words were out of his mouth. “Smithy, get the door.”
Smithy frowned but did as asked. He stood by the fire escape and wrapped his fingers around the handle. Addy seemed on board with whatever they were about to do as well. She had known Mass long enough to trust him. “I’ll gather the women,” she said.
Tox stopped grumbling and asked what he could do too.
“You can jump out when I do,” said Mass. “Shove any demons aside long enough for the women to make it onto the road.”
“That’s suicide! The demons’ll tear us to shreds.”
“Not if they can’t see us. Okay, Smithy, after three. One… two… three!”
Smithy shouldered open the fire escape. It opened diagonally, hinges twisted and bent. Demons immediately tried to get inside, but Mass threw his colossal bulk through the gap and collided with them. He took them by surprise and bought himself enough time to plant his feet in the uneven ditch and quickly pull the tab on the handheld fire extinguisher. He squeezed the handle. Part of him feared a harmless jet of water coming out, but it was exactly what he had hoped for – a thick cloud of white smoke. “Move, move, move!” he shouted as bodies shoved by him. The women whimpered and screamed, but they knew this was life and death. They had no choice but to make a run for it.
Tox appeared beside Mass, planting a boot in the centre of a small demon’s chest and sending it backwards into the weeds. Meanwhile, Mass sprayed the smoky powder into the air, aiming for eyes and snarling mouths. The demons spluttered like sickly children.
Tox shoved aside another demon, this one half-blind and clawing at its own eyes. He pointed to the women halfway up the embankment and about to make it to the road. Addy was right behind them. “It’s working,” he said. “They’re getting away.”
Mass threw out a hand and waved. “Smithy, go with the women. Get them out of here.”
But Smithy ignored him. He bent to pick something up and swung his arm, bringing down a fist-sized rock on the back of the half-blind demon’s skull. It cracked open like an egg.
Smithy hissed through his teeth. “Jesus, did you see its head go?”
Mass pivoted and sprayed a pair of burnt men reaching out for him. Tox placed a hand on his shoulder, using him for balance, and kicked at a third. Miraculously, they managed to gain enough space to make it up the hill.
The three men fought their way up the clumpy, uneven slope while the demons stumbled around in the ditch below. Before long, they had made it to the road. They were all hurting from the coach crash, covered in bruises and cuts.
The women huddled together like sheep while Addy circled them like a border collie. When she saw Mass, she nodded.
Good work.
They had made it out of their coffin in the ditch, but the demons were quickly recovering. Whatever powder had come out the fire extinguisher was unfortunately harmless.
Mass clenched his fists. Pity it wasn’t full of acid.
Smithy searched around. “Now what?”
“We make a run for it,” said Tox. “It’s the only chance we have.”
Mass shook his head. “We’re hurting, and the women will slow us down even more. The demons will hound us until we drop.”
“But we can’t fight them,” said Smithy, still holding his gore-encrusted rock. “Caveman kung fu will only get us so far.”
Mass reached to his belt and pulled out a heavy knife he’d taken from the body of a dead soldier he’d found slumped on the stairs of a supermarket’s escalator. “If we rely on guns to save us every time, what’re we gonna do when the bullets run out?”
“They already have,” said Tox, pulling out his own knife.
Addy grabbed hers next, a machete longer than the others.
Smithy peered down at the bloody rock in his hand. “This is gonna suck.”
The demons climbed the hill, using their claws as anchors in the mud. Some were still disorientated from the powder, but others growled like hungry wolves.
Mass rotated his wrist, getting a feel for the weighty combat knife in his hand. “Addy, get the women back.”
Hell On Earth (Book 6): Rebirth Page 3
