“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.
Tony and his men ran out of petrol just south of Osmaniye. Seeing the roads clogged with traffic and wrecked vehicles, they headed west on foot, until they found a couple of civilians on scooters. It pained Tony to do it, but he threw the young men to the ground and took their vehicles from them. The four soldiers doubled up on the two bikes and took off as fast as they could, dodging around the crawling traffic whenever they could see a gap. Many of the civilians walked barefoot, climbing up buildings or hanging from streetlights. It was a free for all. Everybody wanted to find somewhere safe to dig in. High ground seemed to be most desirable, and people fought to get to the rooftops. They did not understand how little good it would do them when the demons arrived.
With the underpowered scooters, the journey to Incirlik Air Base took a little over six hours. When they passed through the green pastures and farmland and finally reached the Air Force installation, it was like witnessing a miracle. Planes flew in and out of the runways with amazing regularity, splitting the air with their deafening roars every couple of minutes. American soldiers hurried about, like worker ants, carrying weapons or loading up vehicles. The place was alive.
Tony was halted at the gate and had to give the names of him and his men, along with their ranks and service numbers. They were British soldiers, not American, which meant it took over thirty minutes for them to get clearance to enter. Once they had, they were warmly welcomed by a United States Air Force Colonel. The officer had unkempt grey sideburns peeking out from beneath his cap, and a fuzzy brown moustache.
“Colonel Chase,” he said. “A pleasure to meet you fine gentlemen. You told my sentries that you closed a gate. We got word of it yesterday, but we were unsure whether to believe it or not. Is it true?”
Tony nodded. “It opened in the Syrian Desert, but it’s closed now. How many more are there?”
The colonel wore a grave expression as he spoke. “Over six-thou of them. It’s bad, Staff Sergeant.”
“I gathered that. Sounds like we’re pretty much fucked.”
“If you know how we can close those ungodly gates, then we have a fighting chance at least.”
So Tony told the colonel what he knew—explaining how Aymun had thrown himself through one of the gates, and that the next thing anybody knew, it was collapsing in on itself like a faulty firework. The colonel remained silent the whole time he listened, expressionless but for the fleeting excited movements of his bushy eyebrows. When Tony finished, the U.S. Air Force Officer let out a long, weary sigh and shook his head. “So, to close the gates, men and women must give their lives? I’ve spent the last decade fighting martyrs and suicide fighters, and now that’s exactly what we need. Lord, if life isn’t ironic.”
“People are already giving their lives,” Tony remarked. “Every second, by the sounds of things.”
“That they are, Staff Sergeant, but not voluntarily. I’m not sure there’ll be many queuing up to sign on for such a task.”
“They won’t,” agreed Tony, “but in the heat of battle, you’ll find your heroes. My men did, and it was a Syrian named Aymun. As long as we spread word of how to close the gates, you’ll be making sure people know what to do when things are hopeless. Aymun died so that the rest of us have a chance to turn things around. There’ll be others like him.”
The colonel lifted his chin and nodded proudly. “I hope you’re right, Staff Sergeant. I’ll get you and your men back home as soon as I am physically able, but I hope you can appreciate the difficulty that entails at the present moment.”
Tony waved a hand. “We’ll go wherever we’re most needed. I think home just got a whole lot bigger. Time to stop thinking in terms of boundaries and realise that we’re all in this together.”
“Men fight for flags better than they fight for their fellow man,” said the colonel.
“It’s time for a change,” said Tony.
“Perhaps you’re right—in fact, I hope very much that you are. For now, make yourself comfortable. You and your men are my personal guests, so present yourself to the Administration department as such, and they’ll find you somewhere to rest up. I imagine you’re starving.”
“Bleedin’ famished, sir.”
The American col
onel looked bemused and let out a hearty chuckle. “You and your lads are safe, for now, Staff Sergeant, so make the most of the rest. I’m sure there’ll be more battles ahead. Let’s hope we can win them.”
Tony looked back at his three remaining, battle-beaten men and grunted. “Or lose well enough to make the enemy regret winning.”
“I’ll catch up with you later, Staff Sergeant. I have duties…”
“We can sort ourselves out. Thank you, Colonel. Get that information spread to every corner of the world. More of those gates get closed, the better.”
The officer saluted and Tony did the same. Then the American turned on his heel and marched away. Tony joined his men, who were sitting on top of an ammo crate. There was a group of U.S. airmen nearby whispering amongst themselves. Word had already got out that these were the British soldiers who had closed the gate in the Syrian Desert. The Yanks were looking at them like revered war heroes.
Corporal Rose got up and stood to attention. The two privates followed suit.
“Stand down, men. I’m not a bloody officer, nor shall I ever be. I’m a squaddie like the three of you and damn proud I am, to have crossed the desert with you lads. We just left Hell lying in our wake. We kicked a bunch of demons’ arses and wiped our boots on their faces—and there’s gunna be a fuck-load more arses need kicking in the days to come, so we need to be ready. The world is at war. Not World War III, but the war that will decide whether mankind finishes its run right here and now, or if it lasts another ten thousand years. Our enemy is terrifying, and worse than anything mankind has ever faced, but we can make it bleed, and we can make it dead. Our enemy is strong, but we are stronger—we are men. Our enemy are demons from the pits of Hell, but we are British soldiers, and we are men. The world needs heroes, and I’m looking at three of the best right now. Don’t lose heart, and don’t think too hard. England is waiting for us, but there’s a war to win first. I will stand beside you in the fight ahead, and I ask that you stand by me.”
“Fucking aye, ya crazy bastard,” said Corporal Rose. “I’ll follow you straight to Hell if you ask me to, Staffie.”
The two privates said much the same thing.
“Good,” said Tony, “then let’s go find out where the Yanks eat their grub and stuff our faces full of their hamburgers. It might be the last good meal we have for a long time. We’ll be dining on our enemy’s blood before long.”
What Tony didn’t voice out loud was: Either that, or they’ll be dining on ours.
The four British soldiers crossed the American Air Force base, focused only on their appetites. There would be time enough to worry about the fate of mankind tomorrow, for tomorrow, they would fight again. Tonight, they would rest.
~Guy Granger~
Atlantic Ocean
The coast of the United States was three hundred miles behind them, and the vast, blue ocean seemed to stretch on for eternity. Guy didn’t know what he would find in England, but there was no doubt in his mind that things would be tough. The U.K. had been hit as badly as America, but its citizens lacked the freedom to bear arms. The citizens of the U.K. would have only their bare hands to defend themselves against the demons. But Alice and Kyle had been with the British Army, as safe as they possibly could be. There was a chance, and a little hope was all a father needed.
He strode across the launch deck and stood in front of his old friend, Frank. They had covered his body with the Hatchet’s Star Spangled Banner and placed him onto a plastic gurney. He had been positioned at the rear edge of the deck so that he could be slipped off into the sea, where he belonged.
The men had assembled, a mixture of sailors, civilians, and a handful of children. Guy wasted no time in addressing them. “Men, women, and children, the days past have taken their toll, and even a piece of our souls. The part of us that was innocent is no more, and our days of peace and pacifism are behind us, replaced by pain and war. You are all a part of something greater than each of us. Each of you represents humanity’s fighting spirit. All of you have survived horrors and faced intolerable nightmares. The human race will survive too, as each of you has survived. This ship is a weapon, and every man and woman aboard it, a warrior ready to wield it. Together, we will strike the enemy down and take back our world. We will make it safe again for our children, and resign this terrible period of history to textbooks and memory. John F. Kennedy once said, ‘Mankind must put an end to war before war puts an end to mankind’ and that has never been truer than now. I trust each and every one of you, and I will die to protect you. You must also be willing to die to protect others. It is not a choice, but a sacred duty. We are a part of mankind’s army, and we will win back peace. While the blood in our veins is warm, humanity will keep on fighting.”
A brief cheer rippled through the crowd, but Guy halted it with the wave of his hand. “For now, we put to rest a great man; a man who devoted his entire life to serving his country and protecting the innocent. My oldest friend and a man I will always look up to—Chief Petty Officer Frank Theodore Jacobs. I would like to read you all a poem that I know Frank would have liked.” Guy unfolded the piece of paper in his hands and began to read:
“Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.”
After a moments silence, Guy directed the men to tip Frank into the sea. He didn’t blink until his old friend had disappeared completely beneath the waves. The reason he shed no tears was because his sadness was propped up by pride—pride to have served with a man as honourable as Chief Petty Officer Frank Jacobs.
Eventually, Guy headed to the pilothouse where a skeleton crew had remained to keep the ship on course. They all saluted him when he arrived.
Tosco stood at the console, plotting their course.
“Are we all set, Lieutenant?”
Tosco nodded. “The journey should take us about four days, if we keep a decent speed. We’ve fallen too far south to make it any quicker.”
“Four days is acceptable. I would like it to be four minutes, but I’m realistic. Thank you for joining me, Lieutenant.”
Tosco chewed his lip as if he wanted to mention something. Eventually, he did. “Do you know what you’ll do when we reach England, Captain? Will you disembark?”
“I’ll decide when we get there.”
“I will stay behind. Perhaps, head back home, if we can refuel again.”
Guy sighed. He didn’t want to have this conversation now, but it wasn’t going to go away. “Let me make one thing clear, Lieutenant. The Hatchet is my ship. If you head home, it will be because I ordered you to, not because you take the ship while I’m off doing other things. When I find Kyle and Alice, I will be bringing them home, so the Hatchet will wait for me to return.”
Tosco looked embarrassed for a moment, then sniffed loudly and lifted his chin. “I think we both understand this ship is stolen from the U.S. government. Who it belongs to now is a matter of interpretation. I want you to find your children, Captain, but the Hatchet cannot sit around and wait for you. What if you take weeks to return? We all have jobs to do, and do them we must. Helping to rescue your children is a courtesy, not an obligation.”
“Be very careful, Lieutenant. I made it clear when we embarked that anybody coming along would be expected to help me find Alice and Kyle. Whatever happens afterwards will be my decision.”
Tosco smirke
d with all the confidence in the world. “If it comes to a popularity contest, Captain, you’ll lose.”
“Then let’s not make it one. Just do your job, Lieutenant, and we’ll all get along just fine.”
“I always do my job, Captain, and will continue to do so.” With that, the disgruntled Lieutenant left the pilothouse, leaving Guy to endure the sideways glances of his men. He was tired of having the same conversation with Tosco, but it would eventually come to a head. When it did, he just hoped he had Alice and Kyle safely in his arms. Then Tosco could do whatever the hell he liked.
Guy looked out at the Atlantic Ocean and wished he could stretch his arms out across the vastness and touch his children’s cheeks. He longed to hold Kyle and Alice so badly that it hurt his chest. Please let them be alive, he prayed. Just let them be alive.
~David Davids~
Slough, Berkshire
David sat at Mina’s desk with his laptop open, ready to hit ‘upload’. Corporal Martin just got word from what was left of British Intelligence that somebody destroyed a gate in Syria and stopped the demons pouring through. It was hope. But hope was only as good as the amount you spread it. Closing a gate required a human sacrifice—someone to jump inside and break some kind of cosmic rule that short-circuited the portals. Mitchell posited that a living person could not enter Hell, and whoever had done so in Syria, had been the equivalent of a computer virus, corrupting whatever code kept the gates open. Typical of Mitchell to use such a technical metaphor, but what mattered most was the message—that the gates could be closed. Just so long as a person was prepared to step inside and end their lives. It would take a brave soul to make such a sacrifice, but David had faith that there were heroes out there. It was his job to give the world the opportunity to find them.
Hell on Earth- the Complete Series Box Set Page 28