Hell Patrol

by R. D. Tarver

“They may have gotten on at different stops, but they all took the same bus to get here,” Henry said. As Henry paced back and forth his perfectly symmetrical bowl cut resumed its alignment on top of his skull with each turn. “Imagine that bus—the nexus—is made of some type of living plasma that has gotten mixed up with the different hive castes as some kind of integrated epigenetic extension of itself, combining with individual sonopod dna as they pass through the bowels of time and space.”

  “And the Rift Lord is the source of this subatomic masking,” Agostino said. “It is the source of the nexus. We destroy the nexus, we have a chance at destroying the Rift Lord.”

  Rune nodded in stoic agreement.

  Jesse’s mind was clouded by thoughts of Mal being sequestered with the sonopod legion. “Look. I appreciate all that you guys are trying to do, but I’ll just take my chances with the prototype. Seemed to work pretty good so far.”

  “You don’t want to take a knife to a gunfight,” Henry said.

  The brothers shared another of their weird, non-verbal communications before Agostino turned to meet Jesse’s eyes.

  “In anticipation of the current infestation, we set about weaponizing the sonopods’ dislocating frequency as soon as we had adequate data,” Agostino said. “Which we do. Not a complete or exhaustive dataset, but it is enough to work with.”

  “What are you trying to say?” asked Jesse.

  “In addition to the prototype, there is also a production version,” Henry said.

  Agostino led the group to an equipment closet positioned against the back wall of the prefab laboratory. “The production version projects a highly concentrated dislocating radius, narrow enough to allow for safe passage in and out of the partitioning membrane without destabilizing the nexus between worlds.”

  “Assuming the power supply I rigged together is adequate,” Henry said. “Not my finest hour, but it’s the best I could do on short notice.”

  “What’s wrong with the power supply?” asked Jesse.

  “The amount of power required to attenuate the sonopods’ resonating frequency in even a ten-foot radius cannot be sustained by presently available technology for more than approximately twenty minutes.”

  “So that’s all the time we have to go in, find Mal, and get back in time to close the nexus for good?” asked Jesse.

  “Yes,” the brothers answered in unison.

  “All right.” Jesse looked over his companions. “We’re ready. Other than the backline gear, what do we need to get this show on the road?”

  Agostino stopped in front of the equipment closet and turned to Jesse. “Unfortunately, only one of you will be able to cross over.”

  Jesse stepped forward. “How?”

  “With this.”

  Agostino opened the door to the closet, revealing a nylon flight suit, outfitted with all manner of speakers, wires, and battery packs. Jesse’s eyes went to the breastplate at the center of the suit: Alex’s boombox. Only it was rebuilt, modified with heavy-duty external wiring, extra speakers, and a large led power display.

  “I hope you don’t mind Henry taking liberties with the original design. I recently discovered this derelict machine when taking the last batch of observational readings at the mine.”

  Mazes knelt down on one knee and averted his eyes. “Behold, a wonder of the realms.”

  “We call it The Ripper,” Henry said. He rocked back and forth on his heels, arms crossed, marveling at his creation. “Vinny thought it would be fitting, since you guys are into Priest.”

  A heavy-duty power cable ran from a large port in the back of the suit. The plug on the end of the cable looked like one of those big industrial ones that came with a dryer or an air conditioner compressor. A modified motorcycle helmet hung next to the suit inside the equipment closet.

  “Holy shit,” said Rick. “We gotta get these guys to run sound for us.”

  “To that end,” Agostino gestured towards the gear that had been staged near the shed entrance. “We will need to upgrade your equipment to be able to broadcast the dislocation frequency.” Agostino pressed his hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “I believe you have a basic understanding of electronics, yes?”

  Jesse nodded, dumbfounded as he held The Ripper in his gaze. “Yeah, whatever you need.”

  “This is a rescue op, boys,” Henry addressed the group as they formed a half-circle around The Ripper. He pulled down a screen on the wall that detailed a sketch of the old mine. “We believe the sonopod nexus lies somewhere within the natural cave system beneath the Spring Creek Mine. Despite reports from the historical tunnel collapse, it is our hope that a portion of this system will still be accessible by descending the vertical mineshaft.”

  Agostino placed the augmented motorcycle helmet over Jesse’s head and began a series of adjustments.

  “Your objective is simple. Get in and get out without becoming demon food,” Henry said. “Once you rescue the hostage, and secure any other viable townsfolk, Vinny and the band will use the backline to override the resonant frequency of the portal, destroying the connection to our world, sending the Rift Lord and its legions straight back to hell.”

  Jesse snapped open the helmet visor. “What happens if I find her and she’s got one of those things stuck inside of her head while I’m wearing the suit?”

  “Hopefully nothing more than a brief, albeit painful, expulsion of the foreign body,” Agostino said.

  “Hopefully?”

  “Collateral damage,” Henry said. “It’s a chance you’ll have to take.”

  “The good news is, as we have just observed with the harvester specimen, it should be possible to return the survivors back to normal with an induced sonic therapy,” Agostino said.

  “No problem—right, guys?” said Rust. “All we have to do is wander down into the pit of hell and fight off a legion of demons. Mazes practically lives for this stuff—piece of cake.”

  “Just think of the street cred this will buy us,” Rick said, more to himself than anyone nearby.

  Henry counted on his hand. “First we’ll need to lure the Rift Lord out from the nexus long enough to prepare the mine and setup the gear.”

  “How do we do that?” asked Jesse.

  “We will need a distraction,” Agostino replied. “The portal is growing strong enough that Amduscias can move out of close range from the nexus, but only for short amounts of time.”

  “So who gets to be the bait?” asked Rick.

  “Rune and I will lure it out with these.” Henry held up the bulbous, hollow resonating organ from the dissected hell hound’s chest cavity, attached to a series of electrical cables. Rune’s handiwork. “If we fire up enough of these repurposed scout emitters to generate a substantial sonic marker, the harvester drones will come running.” Henry tossed the emitter organ on the stainless-steel slab.

  “If enough harvesters show up, the Rift Lord will not be far behind,” Agostino added. “The legion advance guard are largely dependent upon Amduscias for transport to and from the nexus.”

  “Gentlemen, I’ve heard enough,” Rick said, eying his watch. He cracked his knuckles and pushed his glasses back over his nose. “I’m the manager of this outfit, and now you’re on my schedule. And it’s almost show time.”

  4

  After a solid hour of tinkering, Jesse and the Forgotten Order had successfully optimized the Hell Patrol backline. The gear was quickly loaded up as the entourage made their final preparations to set out for the mine.

  “Once we are on the road, Henry and Rune will activate the sonic beacons and continue on due north.” Agostino gestured towards the woods beyond the gravel drive. “The rest of us will head south, in the opposite direction, to set about destroying the nexus.”

  “Hey—so you guys never mentioned what happens if the Rift Lord doesn’t show,” said Jesse. “What the hell do we do if he doesn’t take the bait?”

  Agostino and Henry exchanged one of their telepathic conversations, shaking their heads in unison
as if to say, Not an issue.

  “Amduscias is desperate for energy—it will show, and once it does, we will not have long,” said Agostino.

  Henry nodded. “Once the ploy is discovered, the Rift Lord will likely head back to base to recharge.”

  Rick called to the others from Bessie’s passenger door. “Whenever you guys are done kissing goodbye, we have a show to play.”

  Agostino exchanged a few private words with Henry before they set the plan into motion. Despite being younger, Vincent appeared to be the more mature of the Agostino siblings. Other than a slight hint of rivalry that surrounded the theoretical foundation of their increasingly bizarre familial research interests, a clear fondness existed between the brothers.

  Jesse helped Rick into the cab as Mazes and Rust made a spot for Agostino in the back. “So what’s the deal with these guys? Forgotten Order—what’s that all about?”

  “I get the feeling they don’t wanna talk too much about the family business.”

  “I’m starting to feel like they’ve been planning this for a while,” Rick said. “The backline, you going down into the mine in that suit…it’s kinda fucked up.”

  “Fucked up has become the status quo,” Jesse started. He watched as Rune climbed into Agostino’s Bronco and flashed a shark-toothed grin at the Lynn brothers. “I get it. Trust me. But they’re the only ones who seem to know what’s going on around here, and we don’t exactly have any other options.”

  “We could leave,” Rick said. He let the words soak into Jesse’s ears before continuing. “We could jump in the truck with the gear, get the fuck out of Dodge, and forget this little science experiment ever happened.”

  Rick waited for Jesse’s stony gaze to falter. It didn’t.

  “Nah, just fucking with you.” Rick laughed off the silence. “You’re all fucked up over Elvira, and saving this shithole town—I get it. I’m with you, man. That was just a test.”

  5

  Rune led the caravan in Agostino’s Bronco with Henry riding shotgun.

  Jesse and the others followed in Bessie down the gravel drive that led from the farmhouse. The late fall Mourning Moon was nearing its zenith by the time they were on the road, shot into the night sky like a silver pin ball.

  Henry’s voice broke over the two-way radio that Agostino had provided. “Night Crawler here, do you read me?”

  Rick answered back. “I can’t properly respond unless you use my handle.”

  After a few seconds of radio silence, Jesse heard Henry sigh through the speaker. “Please, Rick. Don’t make me say it.”

  “Come on, man, quit screwing around,” Jesse pleaded.

  Rick held his palm out, fingers splayed, towards his brother. “International radio protocol dictates that you communicate to my handle.”

  After another brief pause, Henry responded, his voice heavy with reluctance. “Night Crawler here, do you read me, Big Prick?”

  Jesse could hear the smile in his brother’s voice as he answered back. “Big Prick here, copy. I read you loud and clear, Night Crawler.”

  “We are ready to arm the beacon,” Henry replied.

  “10-4, Roger that.”

  At the end of the gravel drive, Rune turned the Bronco to the north and pulled off onto the side of the road. Henry jumped out and powered up the array of hell hound emitter organs that had been hooked up to the loudspeakers on Agostino’s Bronco. A chorus of low-frequency bursts resounded into the night. “Beacon armed,” Henry’s voice broke over the radio. “Stand by to engage the emitter sequence.”

  “Copy,” Rick said.

  Jesse wished that Mal had been with him to witness what might be the last twenty-four hours of his short life. More had occurred during that small and seemingly trivial amount of time than Jesse could fathom. He reasoned it might take the rest of his life, if that was still in the cards, to sort through it all.

  As though sensing their intentions, the still night air had begun to build to a steady headwind as they set off down the winding gravel road to the south. To the mine. To Mal. The swelling wind pelted dust and debris from the surrounding forest against the truck.

  Rick closed the back glass and gave a thumbs up to the others who were piled in the truck bed. Rust adjusted the pair of safety glasses and sound-dampening headphones that the group had been outfitted with from Agostino’s lab. He yelled something to Mazes and Agostino, then returned the gesture to Rick.

  “Stand by, we are beginning the seq—” Henry’s voice cut out over the speaker.

  “Night Crawler, we’re getting some interference. I couldn’t make out that last part. Please repeat. Are we all clear for take off?” Rick asked into the handheld radio. “Over.”

  The wind had whipped up a thick cloud of dust over the gravel road, limiting visibility beyond the headlights of the truck. Rick called again over the two-way radio, but there was still no answer.

  Jesse put the truck in park and opened his door to get a better vantage on the Bronco.

  “Dude, stay in the fucking truck,” said Rick.

  “Chill out, I’m just trying to see what’s going on.” Through a break in the dust Jesse could see the red glare of the Bronco’s brake lights flickering on and off. “Something’s wrong. They’re not moving.” A slow-moving shadow appeared within the radius of Bessie’s headlights, causing Jesse to freeze in his tracks.

  “Lurkers!” Rick called out.

  Jesse jumped back into the driver’s seat. The truck rattled and fell silent as the headlights strobed in the surrounding dust cloud. Agostino darted past Rick’s window towards the Bronco, arming the Hand of Doom as he vanished into the wall of dust and flying debris.

  A muffled cry resounded from the darkness, followed by what sounded like the blast of a bullhorn feeding back. Once the sound abated, the interior lights of the truck lit up and Jesse was able to start the engine.

  “All clear,” Henry’s voice resounded over the radio. “The sequence is armed and ready. We’re off. Now it’s up to the rest of you. Good luck. Night Crawler over and out.”

  Agostino bounded catlike over the side of the truck bed and knocked on the cab window. “We are clear to depart for the mine.”

  Jesse put the truck into gear. The low-frequency sonic blast bludgeoned his ears a split-second before he was showered in an explosion of glass. He looked up from the rattling glass shards that danced upon the dashboard towards the towering shadow that stepped into the headlights.

  The wind stopped.

  A monstrous shape emerged from the woods, nearly the height of the trees, and loomed over the vehicles. The Bronco’s rear tires kicked up a spray of gravel as Rune and Henry made for the north. The beacon, now fully armed, was emitting bursts of low-frequency calls. The sound trailed behind the vehicle as it sped off into the night.

  A field of dark, snaking tendrils orbited the unearthly being, obscuring its form as it stood motionless in the headlights. From beneath the veil of dissipating darkness, Jesse could make out the band of translucent flesh across the creature’s abdomen, hinting at the inner workings of the beast. The snaking tendrils seemed to emanate from the physical anomaly.

  It was riddled with the appearance of bony protrusions that grew out from the ash-grey flesh that covered the bulk of its body. Up close, Jesse could see that the crown adorning the creature’s head was in fact growing out of its skull like horns (or whatever gleaming, metallic biomaterial served as horns for these demons from another plane of existence).

  Above the wreath of horns, an accordion-chambered organ erupted out from the center of the creature’s elongated snout, giving it a vaguely unicorn-like appearance. The spear-like growth retreated into its bellows as the creature drew breath, causing the limbs of the surrounding trees to bend down towards the ground. A deafening blast erupted from the chambered organ that sprang from the top of the Rift Lord’s skull.

  Amduscias. The Great Duke of Hell.

  Bessie lurched forward into the night as Jesse slammed on the
gas. As they headed down the long and straight section line road towards the south, the others looked on in stunned silence as the Rift Lord pursued the Bronco into the night.

  “I think it’s working,” Rick said as he watched through the side mirror. He called out over the two-way radio. “Night Crawler, be advised, you’ve got one hungry Rift Lord on your six.”

  Jesse white-knuckled the steering wheel until they were in sight of the service road that ran through the Old Townsite industrial center.

  Almost there. Almost to you.

  C H A P T E R N I N E

  INTO THE RIFT

  1

  Rick tapped Jesse on the shoulder. “Slow down. There’s something up ahead.”