The giant was so strong that it lifted a petrol tanker parked on the docks and hurled it. The metal cylinder collided with the decks of the USS New Hampshire and conflagrated. Burning sailors scattered across the decks while a scorched hole appeared in the aircraft carrier’s runway. A helicopter tilted over on its side and fell into the water.
“It’s a massacre,” said Tosco, standing beside Guy in the pilothouse.
Guy kept the binoculars pressed against his eyes. “They must have somehow known the Navy was assembling here.”
Frank’s eyes went wide. “You mean they hit us strategically?”
“Maybe it’s a coincidence,” said Tosco. “There could be a gate nearby. We need a confirmed list so we know where’s safe and where’s not.”
It was a good idea so Guy nodded. “Lieutenant, can you focus on that going forward? Every time we get intel, or an enlisted man calls home and finds out about an attack, make a note of it and stick it on the map.”
“Roger that, but what do we do right now though? Should we retreat?”
Guy studied the battlefield and considered turning around and leaving, but ended up shaking his head. “I think it’s time for us to start acting like heroes. Get the big gun ready, Frank. Tosco, get men on the MGs.”
Tosco left the pilothouse while Frank passed orders to the ship’s gunner, Petty Officer 3rd Class Carrie Bentley. The woman got to work, flipping switches and inputting commands at a rate Guy himself could never hope to match.
“Main gun online,” she said after a few moments. “Give me a target and it’s gone, sir.”
Guy looked through the binoculars and tried to figure out where best to strike. The problem was that the battlefield was a melee; man fought monster at close quarters. There were few places to hit that would not result in casualties on both sides.
Then he saw his opportunity.
“Hit the big son-of-a-bitch.”
Bentley looked at Guy. “Just to confirm, Captain, you’re asking me to target that giant, winged, can’t possibly exist, son-of-a-bitch we’re all looking at right now but can’t quite believe?”
“That’s the one, sailor.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Guy stood behind Frank with a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Take us in closer, Chief Petty, but not so close that we can get hit with anything that son-of-a-bitch throws.”
The Hatchet forged ahead, all those standing in the pilothouse enraptured by what they were seeing. All those on the decks were busy as bees as they readied weapons and prepared to fight. Every ship lying in Norfolk’s dock was a war zone, with men being torn apart in their dozens as they ran out of ammo and could not reload quick enough. The ships lucky enough to be at sea were relatively safe from the fighting—some were even leaving—but the enemy snatched assault rifles from dead sailors and fired at them. Anyone not smart enough to be in cover ran the risk of being peppered with 5.6mm NATO rounds. The enemy were smart.
It was a massacre.
The giant son-of-a-bitch bellowed and grunted his commands, directing his creatures like a medieval general. The monsters spread out over the docks like vermin, devouring everything in their path.
“I have the target locked, Captain,” Bentley informed him.
“Fire when ready, sailor.”
The ship rocked, and an explosion followed. The shell was too fast to see in flight, but when it hit the son-of-a-bitch in the chest, everyone in the pilothouse cheered. Staggering backwards, the giant was stunned and off balance. A scorch mark on its chest released tendrils of smoke.
Bentley turned in her seat and grinned. “Hit confirmed, sir.”
“Good work, Bentley.”
The giant roared. It had not toppled, and was in no way beaten.
“Fire again, sailor.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Bentley let off another shot.
Another direct hit.
Once again, the shell struck the giant squarely in the centre of its chest. This time, it dropped to one knee, but it was straight back up again, glancing around until it spotted the Hatchet and understood from where the shell had fired. It pointed its massive hand and bellowed.
“Sir, I think we pissed the target off,” came Bentley. “Permission to shit my pants?”
“Permission granted.”
The giant stomped towards the docks; as it picked up speed, it glared across the sea at the Hatchet.
“It’ll never reach us,” Frank muttered. “We’re a half-mile out.”
Guy grunted into his radio. “Tosco, open up the MGs.”
“Roger that.”
There was an almighty rat-a-tat-tat as the Hatchet’s two side-mounted machine guns unleashed on their target. The giant roared and swiped at the air as if surrounded by flies. It staggered again, but still did not go down, nor did it even bleed.
Frank had grown pale. “Its flesh must be made of iron.”
Guy crossed his arms, narrowed his eyes. “Fire again, Bentley. Take its goddamn head off.”
Bentley loaded up another shell and let rip. The impact knocked the target’s head back with such force that Guy actually winced. The giant toppled backwards and fell to the ground, crushing its own minions beneath it.
The Hatchet’s crew cheered and whooped.
“Eat that!” Bentley shouted in victory.
“Good work,” said Guy, patting her on the back.
Then the giant leapt back up to its feet, so angry that it kicked a group of its own creatures up into the air like a petulant child kicking toy soldiers.
Guy swallowed a mouthful of dread. “We can’t kill this thing.”
“It can’t reach us,” Frank said again.
Silence descended over the pilothouse.
The giant sprinted for the edge of the docks. There was nowhere to go as the ground ahead disappeared and the water neared, but it did not slow down. When it reached the end of the dock, it launched itself into the air and came down right on top of the damaged runway of the USS New Hampshire. It sprinted down the entire length, knocking aside wounded sailors and stomping on inert aircraft. Then it leapt onto a nearby frigate. The smaller ship lurched, tilted, but stayed afloat. The giant kept on running.
“Get us out of here,” Guy barked. “Full-turn-one-eighty, now!”
Frank took the controls, hustling men out the way. The ship vibrated as the engines went to max output. Everyone on board held on to whatever was bolted down.
The giant leapt from the frigate to a smaller patrol boat that couldn’t bear its weight, so it leapt to another frigate. It would be right on top of the Hatchet soon, a clear causeway of Navy vessels all the way.
The horizon panned through the pilothouse window as the Hatchet turned to port full speed. No large ship could quickly perform a one-eighty, but Guy was satisfied that his crew was doing it as fast as possible.
But they were not going to make it.
The giant continued leaping from ship to ship, getting closer and closer. It would be on them any second, landing right on their decks and sinking them.
Guy had to do something. “Bentley, load another shell.”
“And fire?”
“Not until I give the command. Just keep a lock on the target.”
“Aye, Captain.”
The Hatchet carried on turning.
The giant kept on getting closer.
They were sitting ducks.
“Sir, if we don’t fire soon, the ship will be pointing in the wrong direction, and I won’t be able to hit the target.”
“Just hold, Bentley.”
“But sir…”
“Hold!”
Several ships sank as they bore the giant’s weight. Another ten seconds and the son-of-a-bitch would reach the Hatchet and sink it just the same.
“Sir, I must fire now.”
“No, Bentley, hold.”
There was a tense silence. The men in the pilothouse clenched their fists and waited for the captain’s orders.
&nb
sp; The giant let out an almighty roar as it launched itself from the final stepping-stone, aiming itself right at the Hatchet’s launch deck.
Guy threw out his fist. “Fire!”
Bentley launched the shell.
It hit the target in the middle of its chest and spun it in mid-air. The force of the blow had altered the giant’s trajectory and sent it tumbling into the ocean instead of onto the rear deck of the Hatchet.
Guy turned to Frank. “Cease turn, full engines fore.”
The Hatchet sped away.
The giant broke the surface of the water and roared, but it would never swim fast enough to catch them now, they were headed in a straight line. They left Norfolk Naval Station ablaze behind them, a hundred ships sinking to their doom.
“Where to next?” Frank asked once they had some breathing room. The crow’s feet at the edge of his eyes had extended.
“How are we doing for fuel?” Guy asked.
“Almost empty. We can go about another six-hundred miles.”
“We need to fill her up. Whatever happens we’ll need to be on the move. I won’t risk a situation where we need to get somewhere in a hurry and can’t.”
“There’re refuelling facilities at Norfolk, Captain, but I guess that’s out.”
“Head down to Cape Fear, Frank. We’ll refuel there.”
“Aye. It’ll take a few hours.”
“Good, it’ll give us all time to come to terms with what’s happening, and for Tosco to make a start on that list. Time to find out the state of our beloved country.”
“Should we contact Command?”
Guy considered his last orders from Command, to head to Norfolk, and decided his men’s welfare was better left to him. “No, Frank. Let them contact us.”
As Frank had predicted, it took a few hours to reach Cape Fear, but the region on the eastern coast of North Carolina was as green and pleasant as ever. The civilian refugees took to the ship’s railings to look out at the beauty, and it was obvious that for some, their worries were momentarily forgotten.
The Hatchet hugged the shore on its way down to the Coast Guard station, and during that time, it became clear that a great fear had fallen over the various towns and villages. People here were not under attack, but the country they loved was.
Tosco had compiled a list of confirmed attack sites, and it made for grim reading: Jacksonville, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Anaconda, Memphis, San Diego, Clearwater, Billings, Pittsburgh, Fresno, Atlanta, Omaha, Tulsa, Newport, Wichita, Seattle, Minneapolis, Honolulu, Riverside, Newark, Toledo, Irving, Richmond, Sacramento, San Jose, Norfolk, New York, Des Moines, Brownsville, Peoria, and Elgin. And the two that were likely the reason the residents of Cape Fear were so worried: Charlotte and Raleigh.
There appeared to be no discernible pattern to the attack locations. Some states had relatively few gates, such as Illinois, where neither Chicago nor Springfield had been hit. The Prairie State’s biggest disaster site was Carbondale. California, on the other hand, was staging its own Armageddon with nearly every major city hit.
Although every bone in his body begged him not to do it, Guy had allowed his men free access to the radio, telephones, and internet. All the services were spotty, but it had soon become clear that mankind was at war. Every radio and television station had devoted itself to news coverage, but none could seem to agree on what was happening, or what to do about it. The theory that had the most supporters was that the gates to Hell had opened up and demons now walked the Earth seeking to destroy humanity. The second most popular opinion was that aliens were responsible.
It was difficult to draw any conclusions.
The giant the Hatchet had encountered was no anomaly. There had been sightings of similar winged creatures all over the world—including one in London where Kyle and Alice were hopefully still alive. Guy prayed they were. The general assumption was that the giants were Angels of Death come to smite mankind, but that was adamantly hand-waved by the religious-right who would hear nothing of it.
Guy hadn’t made up his mind about the truth, but he decided it would be best to refer to the enemy as demons from now on, for efficiency’s sake, if nothing else. If the men knew what they were fighting, they would be less afraid and more focused than if they were battling shadows and monsters. The fear on board the Hatchet was enough to incite desertion, and that was something that would need addressing soon. The crew could not be relied upon if their minds were set on leaving.
“We’re coming up on the base now,” said Frank. “I radioed in, and they’re ready to receive us.”
Guy blinked. “The Coast Guard is still functioning?”
“There’s a skeleton crew apparently.”
“Good, take us in.”
“Aye, Captain.”
The Hatchet pulled up alongside the deserted docks, and a grey-haired old man in a navy blue Coast Guard jumper met them. The weather was scorching, but he hadn’t seemed to have noticed. He saluted Guy as he appeared on deck and descended the gangway.
“Retired Captain Lund,” the old man said. “Caretaker of the station here.”
Guy shook his hand gladly. “Captain Granger. Thank you for receiving me, Captain Lund. How have you fared here?”
“Not bad, considering. Nearest attack is Charlotte, but that doesn’t make it any less frightening for us here. Watching the news is like watching a horror movie. Command won’t return my calls, and I just got word we lost a third of our domestic Navy in Norfolk.”
Guy sighed. “We were there. It was bad.”
“Well, I’m glad someone made it at least. All the Coast Guard vessels headed there last night to support the military. Some were friends of mine.”
“I’m sorry. Some ships got out, but more were lost.”
The old man took a long breath and let it out loudly. “You need fuel, I hear? Well, since I have no ships, you can have all the fuel you want. Heading anywhere in particular?”
“I have some ideas, but nothing set in stone yet. We’ll head wherever we can find that’s safe; unless we’re needed somewhere else. From what I saw at Norfolk though, there’s not a lot my crew can do but keep care of themselves.”
“There’re a couple young guys back at base,” said Lund. “I’ll radio ‘em to come fuel you boys up in a jiffy. You wanna come inside a spell and have a cup of Joe?”
“I wish I could,” said Guy, “but right now, I need to keep a tight leash on my crew. If I go wandering off inland, they might do the same.”
“I understand, Captain. Let me know if I can make myself useful.”
“You can count on it. Thank you, Captain Lund.”
“You can call me Skip. Everyone else does.”
“Thank you, Skip.”
Frank came down the gangway. His expression was urgent, and in his hand, he held a cell phone—Guy’s cell phone. “You left it in the pilothouse,” he explained. “You will want to take this call.”
There was a knot in Guy’s stomach, but he reached out and took the phone and placed it against his ear. “Hello?”
“Dad, is that you?”
“Kyle! Are you and Alice okay?”
“Yeah, dad, we’re fine.”
“Where are you? How did you get in touch with me?”
“We’re with some soldiers in London. I gave them our address back home and they got a call to mom. She gave me your number and said I had to call you too.”
Guy tried not to dwell on the fact that his son had not chosen to call of his own free will. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Kyle. I’ve been worried. Are they looking after you?”
“Yeah. Things were pretty bad for a while, but then a couple of reporters found me and Alice hiding in a bus. They took us to an army camp in the park. The soldiers are going to put us in a helicopter and take us somewhere safe. I think they said it was some place named Kane Bridge.”
Guy thanked God for the British Army. “I want to speak to one of the soldiers before you go.”
“Yeah, oka
y. There’s one here with us now—Corporal Martin. He’s waiting outside the tent. He’ll give you the details of where we’re going.”
“Good. You look after your sister, Kyle. No matter what, okay? Can I speak with her?”
“Sure.”
There was a pause, then Alice’s sweet little voice came down the line. “Daddy?”
“Hi, princess. I’m so proud of you for staying safe.”
“It was really scary, daddy. There were monsters, but Kyle looked after me.”
“I’m proud of him too. The nice soldiers will look after you now until you get home to mommy. Do exactly as they tell you, okay, and keep close to your brother.”
“Mommy says there are monsters at home, too.”
“Mommy is safe,” Guy assured her. “You spoke to her earlier and so did I.”
“Is Clark looking after her?”
Guy cleared his throat. “Yes, honey. Clark is looking after her.”
“When can me and Kyle go home?”
“Soon, I promise.”
“Will you come get us in your boat?”
“Daddy can’t do that, honey. Daddy has a job to do.”
“But the soldiers said that’s over now. Corporal Martin said that we have to fight. If you come and get us, you can teach me and Kyle how to fight. Please, come get me.”
“What? No, Alice, I don’t want you to fight. What else did this Corporal Martin say?”
“I heard him say we’re going to lose. That there are too many monsters.”
“Let me speak to him.”
“What?”
“Honey, let me speak to Corporal Martin.”
Alice sounded sad, like she knew she’d just caused trouble. “Okay, daddy. I’ll go and get him.”
There was a clonking sound as Alice placed the receiver down, and then Guy could hear Kyle speaking, asking his sister what was wrong.
Then there was the sound of gunfire.
Guy shouted down the phone. “Alice? Kyle?”
There was a man’s voice in the background. Guy could just about hear it. “Come on, kids. We have to get somewhere safe, right now. We’re under attack.”
“But I was talking to my da—”
The line went dead.
The cell phone fell from Guy’s grasp and shattered at his feet. Frank caught him just as he was about to fall.
Hell On Earth Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 12