Hell On Earth Box Set | Books 1-6

by Wright, Iain Rob

  Damien nodded. “The demons?”

  “Yes. Just wish they could have realised it before my husband was killed in the murderous chaos. God bless his soul. But those days are behind us. We move forward. No one is in charge here. We work together as fellow human beings. We fight for one another against an enemy that wants us all dead. America was built on the defiance of it’s people. We will not be ruled. We will not bend or break. This is the crossroads of America, and what we do here will determine our future. Do you have any idea how important we all are? Every one of us left?”

  Damien thought about what Lucas had told him about being a totem. A walker of worlds. “Yes, I agree. We are important. Let’s fight for the future.”

  “Can you do that as a Brit? Can your fight for the American flag?”

  Harry and Steph nodded, but Damien shook his head. “No.”

  The woman bristled.

  Damien explained. “But I can fight for humanity’s flag. Will that do?”

  Nancy exhaled slowly, her jaws locked together. Eventually she nodded. “I suppose that will do just fine. Welcome to the Resistance, friends.”

  “Glad to be here,” said Harry, looking at Damien with a hint of suspicion. It wouldn’t be long before they would all need to sit down and have a big long talk about the nature of the universe. And all the worlds in it.

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  DEFIANCE

  DEFIANCE

  Hell on Earth Book 4: Preview

  Ted wiped dirt from the truck’s petrol gauge with the cuff of his grimy blue jumper but succeeded only in adding more grime. He needed to find diesel soon, but the prospect made him groan. It was getting harder and harder. The pumps at the petrol stations and supermarkets needed power to run, and the National Grid had kicked the bucket over a month ago now. The last time he’d refuelled, he’d pried open a manhole cover and ferried up the diesel with a bucket on a rope, but most fuel tanks were more secure than that. Easiest way to get diesel these days was to syphon it from other vehicles or scavenge it from garages and sheds, but it was a time-consuming chore. Two petrol cans in his truck’s flatbed were the last of his reserves, about another three-hundred miles. That might seem a lot, but when you spent your entire day driving, the road rolled up fast.

  Just keep heading north, he told himself. If he lost that purpose….

  Just keep heading north.

  Ted had started his journey a month ago in Colchester, and it had been hard going every inch of the way. At first, he’d considered heading south, after hearing rumours of the Army gaining a foothold there, but if there was a fight going on, he wanted no piece of it. So he headed the other way, his only plan to head north until the land fell away to the sea. That was his first and last destination.

  But right now, something was attempting to get in his way.

  A pack of demons presented itself in the middle of the road a hundred-metres ahead of him. They saw him coming and spread out to block his path. It would be impractical to try to run them down. Ted had seen enough wreckages to know flesh and bone did not yield the way it did in the movies. Windscreens shattered, axles snapped, and tyres punctured. He couldn’t hope to drive around them either. The demons were remorseless monsters, but they weren’t stupid. Often, if they saw you turning to avoid them, they would throw debris in your path and try to make you veer off the road or into a tree. They didn’t fear being run over, they feared their prey getting away.

  So Ted never tried to avoid them anymore. He never tried to run the demons over or go around. Not anymore. Not since…

  He slowed and came to a stop, switching off the engine. The demons approached cautiously, twenty-feet from the nose of his truck now. His stopping had made them wary, burnt faces betraying their confusion, and when he stared at them defiantly, they became even more puzzled.

  Ted climbed out of his truck and stepped out onto the road. The demons hesitated, still confused by what they were seeing. Ted went around to the side of his truck’s flatbed and pulled out his 5KG sledgehammer. Blue-handled and copper-headed, the sight of the weapon was enough to incite the demons to launch their attack, but Ted stood his ground and taunted them. Their screeching hurt his ears, made his temples pound with blood, his heart beat faster.

  Bring it on.

  The bunched-up muscles in his middle-aged back flexed in unison, and he swung the hammer horizontally, striking the nearest demon in the ribs and folding it in half. Then he threw a kick to keep another demon from getting too close while he readied his next swing. The demon tumbled backwards into its pack-mates and gave Ted the space to thrust his hammer. The heavy copper mallet shattered the demon’s face. Next, he swung it overhead and crushed another demon’s skull flat like a stamped-on Coke can.

  More demons threw themselves at Ted, forcing him to stop swinging and use the hammer for defence. He held it with the shaft across his chest and thrust it out laterally, checking any demons in front of him.

  They spread out around him.

  Ted took several steps backwards towards his truck, trying to keep from being overwhelmed. But while the truck gave him cover, it also made it easier for the enemy to trap him. The more they surrounded him, the harder it was to wield his hammer—or make a run for it.

  He just needed to get himself a yard of space.

  He swung his hammer in another massive arc, striking the bodies of two demons and knocking them away. Then he took his chance, reaching into the truck’s flatbed and retrieving the gas-powered nail gun he kept there. It was his back-up weapon, running on a battery that wouldn’t last forever, but when he used it, Christ, did it do the business. Having to move fast, he yanked the trigger and released a stream of 1-inch brad nails into the air at head-height. His jaw locked in a maniacal grin as demon skulls spat blood from dozens of tiny holes opened by the whizzing nails. Demons were resilient creatures though, and not all fell to the sudden onslaught. Some took nails to the eyes and neck and merely hissed in anger.

  Ted tried to create more space with his hammer, but found it wrenched away and thrown to the ground. He brought the nail gun around with his other hand and fired off another stream of brads. More blood stained the air as demon faces tore apart, but not enough of them went down. They absorbed the wounds and kept on coming.

  They continued closing in on Ted.

  Damn it.

  A demon slipped inside Ted’s defences and grabbed him by the throat, pinning him against his truck. He tried to bring up his nail gun again but couldn’t get his arm at the right angle. The demon snarled. Ted closed his eyes and thought of Chloe.

  Rat-a-tatta.

  Ted spluttered as wet coated his face. He opened his eyes and saw the demon’s head reduced to a pulp. Its hand slipped away from Ted’s throat and its body slumped to the ground.

  The thing was brown bread. Rat-a-tatta-tat.

  Like a firework display, demon heads erupted one after the other, a bloody mist filling the air. The demon mob dispersed, scrambling to spread out, and desperate to locate whoever was killing them. The unidentified gunman continued firing. Demons continued to fall.

  Ted scooped his hammer up off the ground and pounded it into the back of the nearest demon he could find, crushing its spine. Then he set about mopping up the other demons while the mysterious gunman continued laying down fire. Within a minute, more than a dozen demons lay dead in a pile in the centre of the road.

  What the bleedin’ ‘ell just happened?

  Ted was uninjured, but out of breath. He was also confused. Scanning the tree line, he searched for his saviour, but it wasn’t until they stepped out onto the road he saw them properly.

  It wasn’t what he expected.

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  4. Defiance

  “Today I choose life.”

  — Kevyn Aucoin

  “Be ashamed to die until you have achieved some victory for humanity.”

  — Horace Mann

  “We cling to what is gone. Is there anything in this life b
ut grief?”

  — Illyria, Angel (1999 TV Series), The WB

  Part I

  1

  LUCAS

  “Get ready,” said Lucas. “The Red Lord is about to grace us with his presence.” The Infernal Throne hissed and spat.

  Heat filled the chamber, and a million screams erupted from the flames. Something massive emerged and started down the steps towards them. Something wicked.

  “Holy shit!” said Vamps. “I’m gunna need a bigger sword.”

  Daniel and Rick froze in place, staring up at the horror before them. Vamps stood with Damien and Aymun, each of those men also frozen in shock.

  Lucas stood alone.

  The Red Lord was a giant, not in stature but in presence. Its form seemed to smother existence itself. Lucas recognised the beast immediately, the mystery of his enemy’s identity finally revealed to him.

  The Red Lord was kin.

  Lucas could barely breathe. “I-It can’t be.”

  “What?” asked Rick, daring to glance back for a split-second. “What is it?”

  Lucas shook his head. “The end of everything.”

  The Red Lord grabbed Daniel while the fallen angel was still stunned. Perhaps he recognised the Red Lord’s true identity as well. The Red Lord broke him in his fist and allowed the angel’s crushed body to fall to the ground.

  Lucas tore the air with his screams, inadvertently hurting his companions with the damaging frequency. The Red Lord was unaffected by the sonorous assault and marched towards his next victim—Aymun.

  Lucas threw out a hand and sucked Aymun backwards out of danger, the air swirling around him and lifting him away. Once Aymun was beside him, Lucas grabbed the man’s skull and infused him with knowledge. “We can’t win this fight. Not here. I’m getting you all out of here. Find each other back on Earth and stay strong. Fight another day.”

  Aymun was confused, but before the man had a chance to question, a gate appeared behind him and yanked him through. He was gone in less than a second.

  Vamps gawped at Lucas, his gold fangs flashing. “What you doing, man? We came here to gank this bitch.”

  “Not here. Just get through the gate and—Damn it!” Lucas leapt aside as the Red Lord tried to crush him with an almighty fist. The monster struck the ground and the whole of Hell trembled.

  Damien appeared and gathered Lucas to his feet. “I never seen you scared before, boss.”

  “It’s been a while since anything gave me cause.”

  “Who is this geezer? Why won’t you fight?”

  “Because our enemy can’t be killed. Not here. Maybe not anywhere. We need to leave and regroup. I need time to think.”

  The Red Lord cackled, an awful sound, but it was broken by the shrill voice of another. The weaselly politician, Windsor, cowered before the terrifying beast and begged for his life. “I-I-I’m on your side,” he stammered. “I serve your man, Oscar Baruta. Please, I am not… I am not your enemy. Oh god.”

  Lucas had to give the fella props for bravery. It took a lot to stand before the universe’s vilest creation and attempt to start a discourse. It was pointless, of course, and Lucas winced as he awaited the inevitable outcome.

  The Red Lord studied the tiny man before him, and then blinked its many glistening black eyes.

  Windsor’s spine spewed forth from his mouth and clattered on the ground. His formless body crumpled like a bedsheet.

  Lucas sighed. “Not the first spineless politician I’ve met. Idiot.”

  Vamps swung his flaming sword at the Red Lord, but the instant it struck the leathery flesh of its huge right leg, it exploded into ash. Vamps wheeled backwards, horrified. “She-it!”

  “Get away,” said Lucas. “All of you get away. We must leave here.”

  Rick stared down at Daniel’s broken body, but then looked up and shook his head. “We leave now and we’re back to square one.”

  “We stay and we die. Through the gate. Now!”

  Damien was the first to obey. He would never run from a fight, but his obedience outweighed his pugnacity. Good.

  Lucas threw out a spark that hit the Red Lord and delayed his approach. It gave him a chance to grab Rick and throw him through the gate.

  That left just Lucas and Vamps. Vamps was retreating, no longer brave or courageous, but terrified and defenceless.

  “Get to me, lad. I’ll get your arse out this fire.”

  Vamps leant forwards and then broke into a sprint. The Red Lord stomped after him.

  “Run, lad!”

  “I am, yo!”

  The Red Lord kicked out and caught Vamps in the back, sending him flying.

  Lucas threw out both arms and closed the gate he’d just opened, then reopened it ten-feet in the air, to catch Vamps.

  Before Vamps disappeared through the gate though, the Red Lord reached out and snatched him out of the air. But the massive beast could not stop himself quickly enough to avoid going into the gate itself. Both it and Vamps tumbled through together and disappeared.

  Lucas found himself alone, standing there in silence, in the centre of the throne room that had once been his. What had just happened? The Red Lord had passed through a gate. What did that mean?

  He walked forwards, heading up the bony steps towards the Infernal Throne. Could he reclaim it and regain dominion over Hell? The notion of being tethered to this vile realm once more drove him to despair, but with the throne came great power. Power to control the damned. If he took the mantle of Infernus once more, he could close the gates and prevent any more evil spreading to the Earth. It would be a mighty blow to the Red Lord’s plans. Now that Lucas knew who his enemy truly was, he could try to find a way to end him. The throne would help him to do that.

  There was no choice but to do it. Lucas would have to become Lucifer. He just hoped he could resist the darkness that came along with the name.

  Lucas traversed the final steps to his destiny and felt the pull of power. His soul trembled.

  His entire being grew hot.

  Something was wrong. The throne belonged to him, forged of his own will. Yet what he was experiencing was something hostile and foreboding.

  Pain jolted his mind, and he felt himself being pulled apart, his very atoms splitting. What was happening?

  What had ahold of him?

  “No. No!” He reached for the throne, needing to take it and its power. Once sitting in it, nothing would remove him from this place. He would hold dominion over all.

  He reached out a hand, but before he could touch the throne, his flesh disintegrated to burnt ash. The more he moved, the more of him that vanished. Agony consumed Lucas, but he couldn’t summon a scream. A searing heat exploded inside him and he ceased to exist.

  Hell’s throne room lay empty.

  2

  CALIGULA

  Blood salted the general’s tongue. Once, in his explorative youth, he’d indulged in the greasy flesh of a giraffe bull, but it paled compared to human flesh.

  “Imperator,” one of his minions trilled. A lowly slave by the name of Rux; the creature cowered, ready to deliver a message.

  “What is it, slave? Speak now or lose your tongue.”

  Rux flinched, trembling as he gave his reply. “T-The human army has scattered, Imperator. Our troops folded their right flank and rolled them inwards just as you commanded. Y-You desired I alert you at battle’s end, so you may—”

  “Silence! Do not deign to speak of my desires.”

  “Yes, Imperator!”

  “If that is all you wish to say, then begone, slave.” The general waved a massive hand to dismiss the Gaul, and he couldn’t fight the cruel grin spreading across his skeletal face. It had been unnecessary to lead the assault—his handpicked Germanic Guard were more than capable—but he savoured that moment when an enemy’s morale shattered. That rolling wave of despair spreading across an army was ambrosia. A delicious cascade of terror.

  The general exited his tent and set eyes upon the battlefield. The hu
man army had entrenched itself at a car supermarket, a place—his scouts informed him—where humans had once purchased their motorised litters. Elegant, in some undefinable way, the steel boxes now littered the green and grey landscape as relics of a forgotten kingdom. He saw not their utility. What use had they been to the humans when war had visited them?

  The humans had positioned several of those cars end-to-end, forming a steel palisade behind which to cower. It served them well for a time. Battle had raged for several days and nights now, with the humans firing their tiny cannons almost endlessly at the beginning—unleashing metal wasps that flew so fast you didn’t see them until they were buried in your flesh. The general had to admire the musicality of the slaughter the humans directed at his own troops. Even he had been stung several times, but his army took the brunt, falling by their hundreds in the first hours. But eventually, the human cannons fired less and less, and whatever ammunition they consumed ran out.

  The humans postponed their fate a while longer after that by employing yet another impressive weapon, this time an innocuously dull metal pipe pointed towards the sky. It summoned fire from the heavens and reduced the general’s forces to cinders. It nearly turned the tide in the human’s favour, but the general had instilled too much fear in his troops for them to flee. Never would his troops dare rout. Before two hours passed, the heavens ceased their fiery fury, and the human resistance died out. As with the barbarians in Germany, the general had outlasted them.