“We’re helping people,” said David. “You won’t stop us.”
“Mina thought the same. Such an enthusiastic, brave girl. She might actually have made a difference, but you? No, you are too self-involved to ever be a hero.”
“You will lose. We’ve closed one of your gates.”
“One of thousands. My brothers will defend the others; I have already warned them. You have no chance. Humans are weak and mushy. The Fallen are eternal.”
David looked around the room, saw that, in addition to Mina’s scattered limbs, there was also a series of bloody sigils smudged onto the walls. “Who are the Fallen? How did you send a message to your brothers?”
Andras grinned. “Like this.” He dropped to one knee and shoved his bloody hands into the open cavity of Mina’s stomach. A bright light filled the room, and a sudden concussive force threw David against the wall and knocked the wind out of him. A shimmering puddle appeared in the air above Mina’s stomach, and an image projected onto it. David saw one of the giants up close—a blond man with crystalline-blue eyes.
Andras kept his hands buried in Mina’s belly as he spoke. “Qemuel, He who was destroyed by God, but has risen, it is I, Andras, The Discordant.”
A booming voice returned. “Brother Andras, what say you?”
“I am compromised and must move on from this place. What would the Red Lord have of me?”
“Take back your form, and join us in battle. Shed your fetid shackles, and rise in your glory. Human vulnerability does not suit you. Make rivers of human blood.”
Andras sighed euphorically. “Yes. Yes, I will bring forth my body and lay waste to all I see. Screams will fill the—”
David tackled Andras to the ground and terminated the conversation. As soon as the demon’s hands left Mina’s body, the portal blinked out of existence. Andras growled as David straddled him. David was no fighter, but he was a man, and he was angry. He pummelled Andras with punch after punch.
Andras was not a man though, and that was clear when he snaked a hand onto David’s face and cooked his flesh.
“Glat glat comna hartis.”
David screamed as his skin blistered and boiled. He could not escape the crushing, searing grip. His vision blurred and blackened.
“Burn, maggot,” Andras growled.
David reached out his hands desperately. His fingers found Andras’s face, and he pointed his thumbs at where he hoped a pair of eyes would be. There was a moment of resistance, followed by a wet squelch as David’s thumbs disappeared inside Andras’s eye sockets.
The demon bellowed.
Andras’s searing hand slipped away from David’s face and went to his own mangled eyes. The burning stopped, and David collapsed backwards onto the floor, trying to cradle his face, but recoiling in agony as his fingertips caused sparks of agony, like white hot pokers. It hurt to blink, and his lips flared with unbearable pain.
Andras rose to his feet at the same time David did. Both men moaned and staggered around in pained confusion.
“I’ll tear out your insides,” Andras spat.
David was in danger of passing out, but he focused on staying upright and readied himself for a fight. “Come and try it, you fucking monster.”
Andras attacked, but it was clumsy and in the wrong direction. He hit against a desk and stumbled.
“You’re blind,” mocked David.
Andras glanced in the direction of his voice, bleeding eyes pierced like grapes. “No matter. I will return to my own body soon and see more clearly than ever.”
David crept to one side, moving around to Andras’s side. “Until then, you’re a blind, little mouse.”
Andras spun around. “I’ll kill you.”
“Then come on. Better yet, why don’t you go get your big giant body, and stomp me into puddles.”
“I will show you pain you cannot imagine.”
David chuckled. “I’m thinking you can’t get back to your true body without doing another one of your nasty spells, but how are you going to manage that with no sight?” He moved around behind Andras. “Am I right?”
Andras spun around, getting frustrated. “I will bathe in your blood!”
“Your brother’s name was Qemuel?”
“Qemuel, The Great and Risen.”
David moved around behind Andras again. “He said you were vulnerable in a human body.”
Andras swiped at the air, but got nowhere near hitting David. David crept back towards the front of the office. A coat rack stood beside the door. Somebody had left a long golfing umbrella hanging from one of the arms, and David unhooked it carefully.
Andras swiped at the air again, but was still nowhere near. He’d begun to rave and rant like a maniac. “I’ll grind your bones into dust, you maggot. You seek to mock me? I am Andras, Marquis of Hell.”
“And I’m David Davids, reporting to you live.” He used the umbrella’s crooked handle to hook Andras’s ankle and yank the demon off his feet. He hit his head on the desk hard enough to leave him stunned.
David’s face still flared with agony, but he couldn’t help but grin as he swung the umbrella like a golf club and struck Andras under the chin. The demon moaned and grabbed his face.
“That’s the problem when you inhabit a human body, Andras, dear boy: We’re all so weak and mushy.”
Andras clawed at the air blindly.
David hit him again with the umbrella. “If I kill you, what will happen?”
“You cannot kill what cannot die.”
“You’ll go back to your body, won’t you? If I kill you, I’ll release you. Wouldn’t want to be doing that. Would be a terrible waste of intel. I think you owe us after all the spying you’ve been doing.”
Andras leapt to his feet like a cat and swung for David, almost hitting him this time. “Let’s finish this,” he hissed. “I cannot bear the stench of humanity any longer.”
David swung the umbrella at Andras’s head, but this time, Andras snatched at it and yanked David towards him. When Andras dug out one of his eyeballs, he screamed so hard he almost lost consciousness. In desperation, he forced the umbrella upwards under Andras’s chin, hard enough to bury itself in his neck. It was enough to get the demon to retreat.
David staggered backwards, palming at his ruined eye, which was now an empty socket.
“An eye for an eye.” Andras sniggered over by the door. David choked back his torment and reminded himself what would happen if he gave up. “I took both of your eyes, you son-of-a-bitch, so you’re still the one losing.”
“Then I have work to do.” Andras came forward again, but stopped when the door to the office opened.
“David?” came a meek little voice.
David’s heart leapt into his chest when he saw Alice standing there. “Alice, get out of here, now!”
“But Carol is looking for—”
Alice screamed.
Andras grabbed her around the throat and held her in front of him. “Just what I needed,” he said. “I can use her guts to make a spell and get me back to where I belong.”
“Let her go,” David warned.
“I don’t think I will. In fact, I think I’ll let you watch with your one good eye, while I twist her head off.”
“Just let her go!”
Alice stopped screaming and went completely silent, like she had after her brother died. She looked at David with her lower lip trembling.
David smiled at her, despite it causing him agony and his ruined face no doubt scaring her. “Don’t you worry about me, sweetheart. Everything is okay.”
“No,” said Andras. “The time has come for little children to learn about the horrors of the world. There are no heroes, only blood and death.”
Alice panted, not fear in her eyes, but anger. “Yes, there are heroes.”
Andras chuckled. “No, there aren’t, child. There are only monsters, like me.”
“You’re wrong. My brother was a hero. His name was Kyle.” She lifted her foot into
the air and stomped hard on Andras’s shin. He let go of her and hopped on one foot as his hands went to his injured leg.
“You little shit!”
David reached out his hand. “Alice, come to me. Quick!”
Alice ran to his side, and once she was safe, he sprinted forward and drove the metal tip of his umbrella right into Andras’s open mouth. He shoved the demon backwards, through the main office, and into the reception, driving the umbrella deeper and deeper into his throat as they picked up speed.
Out the office’s exit. Across the hallway.
The open stairwell lay just ahead.
Andras tried to get his balance, but David kept on shoving him back until he struck the safety railing over the stairwell. They had enough speed that Andras went right up over it. He managed to cling on for a moment, but David was the one with all the leverage and grabbed a hold of the demon’s wrist. He glared into his face. “Back to Hell with you.”
Andras laughed, and actually threw himself backwards. He wanted death, wanted the release that would send him back to his true body. He fell from the second floor and hit the ground below, letting out an endless wail as the air escaped his compressed lungs.
David turned to find Alice coming out of the office behind him. “Get back to Carol,” he said. “I’ll be right up.”
Alice nodded and ran up the stairs.
David headed down to where Andras lay at the bottom, gasping for breath. The demon’s body was twisted and broken, and the pain on his face was a joy to behold for David.
“Hurts, doesn’t it? I broke my wrist once playing badminton. Ached like buggery for almost two years. I can only imagine what a broken back must feel like. Next time, throw yourself from a little higher up to get the job done.”
Andras struggled to move, but could barely even lift his neck. “M-maggot.”
“You’re the one on the ground.”
“I will-”
“Yes, yes, I know: You’re going to do unspeakable things to me. I’m terribly frightened, but right now, you’re all but paralysed. I’m thinking, with a little tender loving care, we can keep you alive for some time yet. I’ll make sure you’re right at home. You can have a front row seat, while we help save the world.”
Andras struggled, but could only flop like a beached salmon. “Let me die.”
David sneered, ignoring the sharp pains coming from every inch of skin on his face. “Now why would I do that? I’m not a monster.” He stamped on one of Andras’s lifeless legs and broke the shinbone. “Well, maybe just a smidge.”
He grabbed Andras by the arms and dragged him up the stairs, being as clumsy and careless as he could. By the time Andras reached the top, he was begging for mercy.
~Rick Bastion~
Devonshire, England
Night fell, and all was quiet. Rick had just dragged the last of the dead demons into the driveway, and had returned to Daniel, who still slept fitfully on the couch. The Fallen Angel was in and out of consciousness, and Rick wasn’t sure he would ever wake up. Daniel was one of the good guys—had all but proved it—and if he died, then Rick would be left alone and clueless.
He sat down at his piano and placed a glass of water on the lid. The whisky had all been used to make Molotov cocktails, but even if he’d had some left, he would have chosen water.
He thought about his brother, and Maddy, and Diane. He hoped that they had made it someplace safe, but whether there even was anywhere safe to go was a major question. His laptop had been in the kitchen during his fight with Khallutush and hadn’t made it. Nor did the phone or television work anymore. The power and water were still on, but he expected to lose them eventually too. Whoever was in charge of such things, had probably died or scattered—no blue-collar worker would stick around and do their job while the world ended. Everybody had a family to get to, somewhere. Everyone, that was, except for Rick. His only family was a brother, whom he rarely even liked and would most likely never see again. He didn’t specifically mourn the loss of his brother, but the bond of having somebody close would be missed. Rick was used to loneliness, but he’d never endured what he was feeling now: abandonment. The world had left him. The one thing left in his life that could bring him comfort was his piano—but he only had one hand with which to play. He looked at his crushed fingers and wept, but then he looked at his trembling right hand and realised that he was blessed to be left with anything at all.
Fingertips of his good hand resting on the keys, Rick held his breath. Always a twinge of excitement before playing the first note, and now was no different, but there was a feeling of trepidation also—he would have to play one-handed for the first time in his life, and wasn’t sure he could do it. A single hand with which to create something living, amidst all of the death. One hand to breathe life to music.
He started playing.
House of the Rising Sun.
He played flawlessly.
The melody took him away, carried his mind to that ethereal place where all great music comes from.
“That’s pretty good. Ever think about doing it professionally?”
Rick’s fingers leapt off the keys and hung in the air. He spun around and saw his brother standing in the living room. “Keith?”
“Yep. I didn’t think you’d made it.”
“I kind of didn’t,” said Rick. “What are you doing here?”
Maddy and Diane walked in and joined Keith. All three of them looked weary and tired.
“Hi, Rick,” said Maddy. “We came back.”
Rick didn’t understand. “Why?”
“Because there’s nowhere to go.” Keith let out a heavy sigh. “We tried to make for the motorway, but there are wrecks everywhere. People are fighting in the streets, and there are still demons all over the place. We’d never make it to the coast. We thought our little battle was special, but it’s happening everywhere.”
Rick glanced at Maddy. “Your wedding ring?”
She shrugged. “I thought it was important, but after what I saw out there, I’ve realised that there’s no point holding on to the past. My husband is gone, but I’m still here. There are better ways to honour him than getting myself killed.”
“We came back here to stay safe behind the gates,” said Keith. “Never expected to find you home.”
“I never expected visitors.”
Maddy came over to the piano and hugged him. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Rick.”
“Likewise. Does anybody have a plan on what to do next?”
“We managed to get some supplies at a corner shop,” Diane answered, “but not much.”
“We have a few days,” said Maddy. “I just want to rest for now, figure it all out in the morning. Try to find some answers.”
Rick glanced across at Daniel, still unconscious on the couch. The only answers they could hope to get would likely come from him—one of them—so they should all pray that he made it through. For now, Rick decided to keep Daniel’s secret. Let the poor angel sleep.
“It’s nice to have company.” Rick waved an arm. “Make yourselves at home.”
“I’ll put the kettle on,” said Diane, heading towards the kitchen.
Maddy followed. “I’ll help her.”
“Excuse the mess,” Rick warned them.
“Looks like a whirlwind hit this place,” Keith commented as he looked at the broken furniture and bloodstains in the living room.
“Yeah, it’s been Hell, and I think I lost my hand. Hey, speaking of hands, what’s that in yours?”
Keith looked down at the slim object in his hand like he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh, yeah, well… The garage was still open, and I thought you were…. Well, you know. There were plenty, so hope you don’t mind.”
Rick stared at the portrait of his face on the album cover in his brother’s hand and frowned. “You took one of my CDs? Why?”
Keith blushed, shuffled his feet. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Wanted something to remember you by.”
“A picture of me with pink hair and a cheesy grin?”
“A picture from when I was proud of you.”
“You’ve never been proud of me, Keith.”
“Yes, I have. Just never wanted to admit it to myself, until now. I’m proud to call you my brother. I think losing Marcy and Max has put things into perspective for me. Family matters. We survived the end of the world together, Rick.”
“Not yet we haven’t. And you don’t know Marcy and Max are gone. We’ll find a way to get to them.”
Keith nodded. “Bring it on, I say. Those demons will have to be crazy to mess with a chartered accountant and a fading pop star.”
“And a paramedic,” shouted Maddy from the kitchen.
“A barmaid too,” came Diane’s voice.
Rick and Keith looked at each other and chuckled.
“Then I guess we have our team,” said Rick. “Now we just need some theme music.” He turned around and placed his fingers over the keys. “Any suggestions?”
Maddy and Diane came in with the piping hot brews. “Surprise us,” said Maddy.
Rick thought for a moment, then came upon the perfect song for the situation. He put the electricity in his fingertips to work and started to play. The melody was perfect.
The Final Countdown.
~Tony Cross~
Incirlik, Turkey
Civilisation seeped into view on the horizon, and the featureless browns of the desert started to share the landscape with patches of green and the straight lines of sun-baked concrete. It had taken almost twenty hours of continuous driving, but they had made it across the Turkish border. They found the country in disarray. Word had arrived that Istanbul was under siege, and Ankara, in the North West, was assumed to be next. The Turkish armed forces were everywhere, a disorderly mess that fought side by side with local militia, police, and the bravest civilians. The whole country was ready for war, but no one seemed to know quite what to do.
Hell on Earth Trilogy: The Complete Apocalyptic Saga Page 27