Hell on Earth- the Complete Series Box Set

by Iain Rob Wright

  “The ISN are everywhere, but we’ll be less likely to be attacked that way than if we head south or west. The north is barren enough that we can avoid the towns. We should head for the U.S. airbase in Incirlik. If we can make it to the Turkish border, we should be able to get a ride. We should be able to make it within a week on foot, sooner if we manage to find a couple vehicles.”

  Ellis rubbed at his jaw. “A week’s march across the desert, how are we supposed to manage that?”

  Tony sighed. “Once upon a time, armies used to march thousands of miles. If we cut our rations, take as much water from this stream as we can, we’ll make it. It won’t be a pleasant trip, but any other direction and we risk getting into another firefight. I don’t know about you, but I could do without losing another bunch of lads.”

  Ellis looked at the map for several seconds, eyebrows knitted in concentration. He came up with no alternative, so nodded his head and agreed to Tony’s plan. “I will go and let the men know what they’re in for.”

  Tony looked at his Commanding Officer and tried to convey his confidence one last time, hoping it would pass through him and onto the men. “This is how we all get to live, Lieutenant. I’ll take hard and safe over easy and dangerous any day. We stick together and we’ll be fine.”

  Ellis nodded toward Aymun who was sitting on a rock with his two men. “What about them?”

  “Leave them to me.”

  Ellis seemed satisfied. “I trust you to take care of it, Staff Sergeant. Carry on.”

  While Ellis addressed the men, Tony approached the ISN. Aymun nodded to him and said, “Hello, my friend.”

  “We’re not friends, we’re enemies. That’s why you need to go your way while we go ours.”

  “You will let us go?”

  “Yes, you can even keep your weapons, but you don’t head into Iraq and you don’t follow us.”

  “Where will you go? Syria dangerous for British soldier.”

  “Not your concern.”

  “Only safe place is desert, but you never make in the heat. Summer bad. No time for walking.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Tony snapped.

  “I help you.”

  “Don’t want your help.”

  “You need my help.”

  Tony studied Aymun and tried to figure him out. He seemed genuine in his offer to help, but here also was a man who believed that infidels should be beheaded and homosexuals hanged. “Why do you want to help, Aymun? We oppose everything you stand for.”

  “I be very surprised if you know what I stand for. I stand for duty. Your men save my men, so now we help save you. You want out of country. Turkey, yes? I take you across desert, across river. Make sure your men do not burn.”

  Tony folded his arms, strangely finding himself willing to listen. “How would you help us, Aymun?”

  “I lead you to hidden ISN stockpile. Food, water, monies, yes? You can take. Payment for saving my life.”

  “How do I know you won’t turn on my men? You could lead us into a trap. We’re enemies.”

  “I think we are enemies no longer. We have new enemy to fight.”

  “The demons?”

  Aymun nodded. “Allah’s test. Perhaps he wish to bring men together by giving them mutual adversary.”

  Against his better judgement, Tony asked, “You really want to help my men?”

  “I swear it in Allah’s name. You are not my enemy. Syrian puppet government my enemy, greedy white men my enemy, demons that come through gate my enemy. You are friend.”

  “Then we should shake hands.”

  Aymun waved a hand. “Pah, white man’s gesture. For Moslem, man’s word alone good enough.”

  “Okay, you have my word that if you get us to the Turkish border, I will let you and your men go free.”

  “And you have my word that I will not kill you.”

  Tony smirked. “Good to know, Aymun.”

  From the demoralised look on the British soldiers’ faces, Ellis had just delivered the bad news about their upcoming trek. They were sitting in silence, heads in hands and glancing at the featureless desert as if it were some giant, sucking hole waiting to devour them. Ellis had retired to the edge of camp and was trying the radio.

  “Still no answer?” Tony asked.

  Ellis shook his head. “It’s like there’s no one on the other end. Do you think something is going on? I mean, more than what happened to us?”

  Tony sat down beside his Commanding Officer and crossed his legs. “It seems unlikely there’d be just one of those gates in the middle of nowhere. I assume there’re more. Perhaps that’s why no one is answering our calls: they’re all busy with their own problems.”

  “I don’t want any more of my men to die, Tony.”

  “No officer ever does. Things could have gone worse, you know? We’re lucky any of us got out of there alive.”

  Ellis sighed and seemed to think about it. “Are Aymun and his men leaving soon? We should depart at the same time, or they might regroup and ambush us.”

  “No, he’s coming with us.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “We saved his life. He wants to repay the favour by helping us through the desert. There’s an ISN stockpile. He said we can have it.”

  Ellis was silent, but eventually he said. “I’ve known you a year now, Tony, and in that time I’ve never seen you make a bad decision. If you think we can trust Aymun and his men, then I will back you. Maybe if I had trusted you earlier, the ambush wouldn’t have failed so miserably.”

  “If it hadn’t of failed, we’d all be dead. We wouldn’t have got pinned behind the hill, and that gate would’ve opened right behind us. Instead, it opened on top of Aymun and his men. One thing I’ve learned about war, sir, is that it rarely goes to plan.”

  “Huh, I suppose you’re right. Maybe Allah really does have a plan for us.”

  Tony pulled around his rifle and started disassembling it to clean it—best to do it now than later. “Well, if that’s true, I’d hate to see what He has planned for us next.”

  They rested as best they could during the morning whilst the heat was mild, but it was impossible to sleep, nor were they in any position to stay, so they got moving at noon. Within half an hour of leaving the stream, they were all sweating. The desert seemed to swallow them up, stretching on forever in every direction.

  Aymun led the way with his men, Ellis and Tony a step behind. The three Syrians chatted in Arabic, but Tony caught the odd word or two. They were discussing the gate and what had come through. That was good; much better than them discussing a plot against their current travelling companions. Tony reminded himself that the man was an extremist. It would be unwise to let down his guard.

  “We must walk one day before we find supplies,” Aymun told them. “We go slow like snails, or we will not last out the sun.”

  “How’re you sure the supplies are still there?” Ellis asked him.

  “Because only I and my men know about it. They all dead now except Majd and Sayid, so will be more than enough to get us to Turkish border.”

  “Good, good,” Ellis cooed. “Thank you once again for your help, Aymun.”

  Tony grunted and gave Ellis a look that screamed shut up. It was one thing to accept the help of the ISN soldiers, but another to kiss their arses. The men would lose confidence in their Commanding Officer if they thought he was pandering to the enemy. Although a majority of the ISN had fallen to the monsters from the gate, most of the British casualties had been at the hands of Aymun’s men. Nothing would make them friends, however much they acted otherwise.

  Tony dragged back a little and fell amongst the men. The best way for a Non Commissioned Officer to learn the state of morale was to mix with the unit. It didn’t take him long to discover that the temperament of the men bordered on panic.

  “I think it’s the end of the world,” said Private Harris, his large, square shoulders slumped. He’d been tossing his knife into the air for the last hour, letting it sp
in, and then catching it. The repetitive action spoke of a taut mind. “Those things came right from Hell. We all saw it.”

  Corporal Rose, a ginger-headed Scot, agreed. “Aye, they was demons all right. I hope for them they didn’t open a gate in the centre of Glasgow. They’ll piss themselves and run right back to Hell if they see some of the local split arses on a Friday night.”

  The men laughed. It was good to have a man like Rose in the unit—a guy incapable of taking any situation too seriously. The corporal could be bleeding from his neck and still crack jokes about not letting the alcohol in his blood go to waste.

  Private Harris noticed Tony walking nearby and quickly shut up, averted his gaze. It was bad form to complain on a tour—dangerous as much as it was insubordinate—and one man with a negative attitude could affect an entire unit, demotivate it into a listless squabble of unshaven men. Harris had been caught out, but there was little reason to blame him too much. They had all been through Hell, literally.

  “We all know that the situation is fucked up, Harris,” Tony said, “but we survived, didn’t we? You all went up against a bunch of monsters and lived to tell the tale. We saw them bleed; we watched them die. Don’t let them scare you because you don’t understand them. Wars are lost through fear. By the end of the Vietnam War, the Yanks were terrified to take one step in that jungle, but that won’t happen to us. We’re British soldiers, and we have ourselves an enemy. Our job is to kill it. The men we left back there in the desert are relying on us to feed those ugly fucks their own bollocks—and we will, I promise you.”

  A jubilant cheer roared from the men, which made Ellis and Aymun glance back over their shoulders. Ellis seemed bemused, not understanding what was happening behind him, but the ISN leader seemed to understand, and gave Tony a nod. The men would be looking to Tony for courage. If he was afraid, they would be afraid. It was his duty to show bravery and set an example, but the truth was that he was more afraid than he’d ever been. How long could he keep up the brave face? If he faltered, his men would die—for they were his men, not Ellis’s.

  Tony patted Harris on the back. “Harris, why don’t you tell the lads one of your stories. I swear you’ve had more lives than a cat.”

  Harris chuckled. “Okay, Staffie. Did I tell you about the time I ejaculated during a conversation with my mum?”

  The men laughed just at the premise.

  “No, lad. Let’s hear it.”

  “Okay, well, I was sixteen-seventeen and shagging this bird called Lisa. We was in my bedroom one Saturday afternoon, and she was underneath the duvet giving me head—the best I’ve ever had. Anyway, I’m just about to get there, getting ready to blow me load. My toes are going, and I start to moan. Lisa starts bopping up and down faster, working my balls with her hand. Then, boom! The bedroom door opens. Lisa leaps up out of the duvet just in time, as my dear old mum comes in. She wants to know what I fancy for dinner. Problem was that I had passed that point of no return. Lisa’s mouth had done the trick. So here I am, going off like a sprinkler beneath the sheets—having a giant sodding orgasm—and I have to hold a conversation with my old lady about chicken bloody Kiev. Lisa is laying next to me trying not to laugh her arse off. Anyway, the point of the story is that I blew my load while having a conversation about chicken with my mother. The moral is: always get a lock put on your fuckin’ door.”

  The men bellowed with laughter, and Tony knew he could leave them alone for a few more hours.

  They walked until nightfall, taking water breaks every hour, but even then, they were dry-mouthed and sweating. Now that night had arrived, they were all grateful to see the blazing sun recede. The men had shed their combat jackets and now wore only their webbing over their undervests. Several times, Ellis tried to hail Command on the radio, but within the cradle of the desert, their calls went unanswered.

  Tony glanced around. It wasn’t the kind of desert that would typically come to mind, with endless dunes of golden sand—only hard-packed dirt beneath his boots, ranging from dark brown to bright orange. There was the odd patch of straw-like grass here and there, but no trees and no shade. Now and then he’d glimpse movement in the distance, but could never tell if it was animal, man, or mirage. They were alone, wandering through sun-scorched oblivion.

  “We cross river between Al Mayadin and Boqruss Foqani,” Aymun informed them. “There will be trees and water. Supplies are two miles past river. There we rest tonight.”

  The men muttered contentedly. No sleep in two days had left them looking grey and unsteady on their feet. They had avoided sunburn with the use of the cream in their packs, but the heat had sapped all but their last reserves of strength. Rest was needed, and if Aymun was true to his word, they would get the chance soon. Or they would be double-crossed and murdered. Both were appealing after having marched through a desert.

  They walked for about another hour before the hard-packed dirt softened into moist soil and green grass. The river was a half mile ahead and due east of the town Al Mayadin. Tony could see some of the taller buildings on the horizon and even caught the faint sound of a car horn. They had reached civilisation, but heading into the town would be risky. There was no one overtly friendly to the West in Syria and many who vehemently opposed it. It would be too much of a lottery trying their luck there. The British had refused to help the Syrian civilians against the rebels, so why should the Syrian civilians help the British? No, they would stick to the plan and keep heading north into Turkey.

  Tony spotted the men gazing into the distance at the town and was quick to distract them. “That’s not safety over there, lads. The ISN would be on us before we ever got chance to find help.”

  The men glared at Aymun.

  Tony sighed. “We have an eye on those three and we outnumber them. If they try anything they’ll regret it.”

  The men all nodded defiantly. They were almost beaten, but they would not go down without a fight. A doomed soldier was a dangerous soldier, so let Aymun try something if he dared. Not that Tony had any reason to doubt the ISN leader. So far, Aymun had led them around the settlements and alerted them whenever traffic appeared on the seldom encountered roads. Whenever he spoke, he did so in a friendly manner and showed no sign of contempt. Every bone in Tony’s body told him not to trust the man, but somehow he was starting to. He hoped he didn’t end up regretting it.

  They made it to the river. The moon was full, making the water appear as a twinkling silver strip. Tony stooped down on the bank and cupped water over his neck, giving permission for the men to do the same. They all lined up and cooled themselves down, drinking until they were full. The water was clean and fresh-tasting and led Tony to wonder what the Thames would taste like.

  “Should we camp here?” Ellis asked, deferring to Aymun.

  “No, we cross first, find supply cache.”

  Ellis needed to show authority, so Tony tried to help him. “Unless you want to camp here, Lieutenant? It’s your decision.”

  Ellis stuttered. “O-of course… erm, no, I think it would be wise to locate the supply cache first. We can rest after.”

  Tony saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  Ellis returned the salute. “As you were, Staff Sergeant. See if you can find a good spot to cross the river.”

  “No need,” said Aymun. “I know place.”

  Tony found cause for concern. Was this the part where Aymun led them into a trap? But it turned out that the Syrian knew of a raft hidden in the reeds. He and his two men retrieved it from further down the bank and were quick to explain its origin. “In early days of war,” said Aymun, “Syrian forces patrol river crossings. Local people make this raft and hide for ISN.”

  Ellis frowned. “The locals helped you? Why?”

  Aymun smiled. “Because they believe in ISN, Lieutenant. You think they side with government? Ha! ISN what they want. We take power and bring back old ways. Ways that best for Syrian people, not rich men and politicians. People in Syria, they starve while others take what they ha
ve. The West attack our religion, take our oil, tell us how we must be. ISN say no. We will not be how they tell us to be. We will be Syrian.”

  Ellis was clearly dumbfounded. “But you people are savages. You behead your enemies, enslave your women, and kill children. Surely people don’t want that.”

  Aymun’s eyes narrowed. “We do what must be done to take back our country. In war, bad things happen, yes? How many children has British Army killed? Many, yes? Children die in war. Enemies suffer. Do not judge a man in war, judge him in peace. Once we have country back, we will feed poor, help weak, and make peace with neighbours, but not while puppet government still lives. ISN fight for Syrian people and Syrian way of life.”

  Ellis laughed derisively, which led to the Syrians on either side of Aymun to sneer. Neither Syrian spoke English, but they were smart enough to know they were being mocked.

  Tony stepped in before the accord between the two groups was shattered. “Aymun, I believe that you believe your actions are just. We believe the same of our own. Right now we’re friends, and later we may go back to being enemies, but for now, we must concentrate on what we set out to do. We need to cross this river and get to that supply cache. Whatever differences we have will wait for another time. You gave me your word that you would help us.”

  Aymun nodded. “I already tell you, Sergeant, that we have new enemy now; is stupid to fight you, but your leader is ignorant man. He stupid man.”

  Ellis went red in the face. “How dare you. I am a lieutenant in the British Army and you are my prisoners.”

  Aymun sneered. “We are no prisoner.”

  “No, you’re not,” said Tony, glaring at Ellis. “Aymun is here to help us, sir. We made a deal.”

  “They had the chance to leave, but they chose to remain under my protection. They placed themselves under my command.”

  Aymun faced Tony. “You give word you let me and my men go.”

  Tony nodded. “I did.”

  Ellis glared. “You did what, Staff Sergeant? On what authority do you make deals with enemy combatants? These men are my prisoners, and I decide what happens to them.”