Maddy shook her head. “A success?”
Thomas nodded. His eyes seemed to look right through her into the past. “We counted almost two thousand demons amongst the dead. The biggest kill ratio we’d ever seen until that point – over two to one. It gave the remaining forces hope by showing that the monsters were less than us.”
“But was it worth it?” asked Maddy. “All those soldiers…”
“The next day,” said Thomas. “We refuelled our armour and pushed towards Tehran. We reduced the city to rubble. We closed several gates and killed one of the fallen. That time, we lost three hundred men. The demons lost three thousand. Without the oil, we never would have been able to take Tehran. The demons had too much cover without our tanks and missiles. Within two months, we had secured seventy per cent of Iraq while the German Confederation and other allies did their part in Syria, Turkey, Iraq, Israel, western Afghanistan. The fight is still ongoing, but we’re winning. So, I’ll leave you to decide whether the sacrifices were worth it.”
“They were,” said Wickstaff, surprising Maddy with the speed of her answer. The former general gave a shrug of apology. “Humanity needs to survive. We have to do whatever’s necessary. It’s the tough decisions that keep me awake at night, but it’s the tough decisions that will get us through this.”
Thomas nodded. “I came home because mainland Europe is going to become a consolidated superpower in the years ahead – so will the United States, Russia, and China. This war with the demons has led to the biggest land grab in history, and eventually mankind will be resurgent. Then there’ll be no place left for small independent nations like ours – unless we are prepared to defend ourselves. When that time comes, Great Britain will need to stand as it always has, an unyielding bastion of freedom and compassion. We need to restore our country to the place where all are welcome, where all are protected. If we don’t reclaim our lands quickly, however, there won’t be enough time to gather strength. Deterrence is what will keep us safe. Great Britain must become more trouble than it’s worth.”
“We have a nuclear sub,” said Maddy.
Thomas eyeballed her. “Really? I thought we lost both of them.”
Wickstaff chuckled. “No, it’s not a British vessel. It’s a German sub with a German crew. They defected to us.”
“You’re joking? Chancellor Capri never mentioned it in his cross-command meetings.”
“I’m sure he didn’t. He’s been rather insistent about getting it back.”
“He mustn’t have it!” Thomas almost shouted it. “It might be the only thing that keeps the wolves from the door. The German Confederation won’t risk trying to absorb us if we can fire a nuke straight at Berlin. Amanda, you are a gem of the highest order.”
She laughed. “I have my moments.”
“I shall meet with this German Commander in the morning,” said Thomas. “Position him in the most strategic way possible.”
Wickstaff cleared her throat and stared into her glass. “That might be difficult. Commander Klein considers his submarine somewhat of a sovereign nation and has made it very clear that he will not utilise his missiles under anyone’s judgement but his own. Meet him, by all means, but he won’t take orders.”
“And you’ve allowed this insubordination?”
“What do you want me to do? He’s here voluntarily.”
“He’s enjoying our protection. I assume he comes on land and enjoys our facilities, consumes our supplies?”
Wickstaff nodded, but she seemed unashamed by the admission. “I decided a nuclear submarine with a full crew was worth feeding. Feel free to send them on their way.”
“I shall do no such thing. What I will do is clarify that he is either in or out. He wants to be a sovereign nation, he can produce his own food for his own people.”
Maddy noticed they were nearly at the end of the second bottle of brandy. They’d been swigging it neat for several hours now. A third bottle might kill them. The conversation might too. “Perhaps we should call it a night,” she suggested. “It’s early morning and we’re going to feel like shit as it is.”
Wickstaff and Thomas glared at one another. Were they merely drunk, or were they enemies pretending to be friends?
“Perhaps you are right,” said Thomas. “We shouldn’t be talking shop. Tonight was about getting to know one another, and I feel I know enough.”
Wickstaff bristled. “What does that mean?”
Thomas waved her off. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I only meant I see what an accomplished leader you are, and that people are right to respect you. Don’t doubt that I respect you too, Amanda. You are as strong-minded as any man I ever served with.”
Maddy rolled her eyes. “She has a fine set of balls too.”
Wickstaff grimaced, then exploded with laughter. Thomas looked unsettled for a moment, then he started cackling too. “I’ll take that as my cue to leave, ladies. Oh, hang on, this is my office, isn’t it?”
“It is,” said Wickstaff, still smiling.
“Okay, well, bugger off then, the two of you. And leave the other bottle of brandy, Maddy. We never even opened it. I feel positively ashamed.”
Wickstaff stood. She wobbled for a moment, then was straight and steady. She pulled Maddy up by her arm and dragged her out of the office. Maddy’s head was spinning like a hula hoop. “There’s a good chance I might puke,” she said.
Wickstaff rubbed her back and then pulled her into a short embrace. “Have a good lie-in and you’ll be right as rain. You deserve a rest.”
“You don’t mind if I sleep in?”
“Of course not. I’ll be doing the same.”
They exited the port authority building into the salty night air. Thomas’s guards watched from various perches, but all was quiet. You could hear the sound of the waves. It must have been three in the morning.
“W-What do you think of Thomas?” asked Maddy in a drunken whisper. “I can’t make up my mind.”
“He’s a fine man, but whether he’s good for Portsmouth is another question entirely. We are not a professional army surrounded by desert; we are a ragtag group of survivors fighting for tomorrow. I fear some won’t take to Thomas’s rigid command style. That’s not his fault, it’s just who he is, but that’s the problem with assuming command rather than rising to it. One can never guarantee a good fit. Anyway, it’s time for bed, Maddy. Let’s save tomorrow’s headaches for tomorrow, shall we? Whatever happens, Portsmouth isn’t in any imminent danger.
“So, you’re telling me the main villain, the monster behind all of this, is trapped inside your friend who’s a vampire? And you’re a demon who was originally a young boy from thousands of years ago?”
The demon – apparently named David – had a strange way of speaking. Sometimes he hissed for no reason. He seemed adamant about what he was saying though. “Crimolok is one of God’s three eldest sons. Very bad. Stuck inside Vamps.”
Smithy nodded. There was no point doubting the demon after all that had happened. Anything was clearly possible. In fact, it was a kind of comforting that all this hell might be for a reason, if only because of the ego of some demigod named Crimolok. Better than billions dying for nothing at all.
Smithy and the diminutive demon had fled through the woods until they’d made it out into some fields. There was no way of knowing where Frankie and the other demon were, but Smithy finally started to feel a little safer. For months he had coped with the apocalypse better than he would ever have thought, but now he felt as vulnerable as he had in those early days. The horror never stayed static. It evolved. The early frenetic assault had given way to a systematic extermination followed by a lull. Perhaps that lull was ending, because he’d been attacked by two demons in a single day. A third scampered along beside him.
“I need to sleep,” said Smithy. His Seiko told him it was three in the morning.
“I sleep too.”
“I thought demons didn’t have to sleep.”
“Don’t have
to. Want to. When sleep, David dream. Dream of before.”
“When you were alive?”
David nodded.
“We should try to find some shelter. It’s not safe to be out in the open like this. It’ll be light soon and we don’t want to be exposed.”
David peered up at him quizzically. “That demon wanted to kill you?”
Smithy shrugged. “That’s what demons do, right? Frankie seemed okay at first, a bit like you – confused but friendly. Then he turned.”
David scratched at his arm, and a chunk of flesh sloughed away. The wound released a smell, but the demon didn’t seem to notice. “Crimolok control Hell, but when become trapped inside friend, Vamps, he lose connection. Now, David think he only influence demons close. Only demons that accept him. Other demons confused and… afraid.”
Smithy raised an eyebrow and tried to consider things from a different point of view. “It must be pretty shit being a demon. Were you in Hell?”
David lowered his head towards the silvery, moonlit grass. “Yes.”
Smithy sensed he was asking painful questions, but how often did you get to question someone who actually knew about life after death? “Do you… do you remember any of it?”
“Flashes. Waves. Memories. Empty place. Forever place. There is pain too, but emptiness is what makes lose self. Forever of nothing.”
Smithy shivered. “Is there a Heaven too?”
David shrugged. “You ask about place never been. Wish to been.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry. I appreciate you and your friend saving me. You’re obviously a good demon, David.”
“My friend’s name was Aymun. Brave warrior. I miss already.”
“I’ve lost people too. The worst part about it is— Hey, wait! Tell me I’m not imagining things.”
David squinted. His eyes glinted bright white like a wolf’s. “Buildings?”
Smithy could only make out shapes, but the moon was full, and it cast enough light to show a familiar outline. “I think it’s a farm. I can see barns and a house.”
“We sleep inside house tonight. Would be nice, yes?”
“Houses usually have bodies, and I’m too tired to be dealing with that right now. Maybe we can break into one of the barns and sleep there. We can find somewhere better tomorrow night when we head north to find this group of survivors you mentioned. Shouldn’t be hard to find a castle in the forest, right? Not like there’re hundreds of the things lying around.”
“Okay,” said David. “We sleep in barn. Walk tomorrow.”
Smithy considered the time and corrected the demon. “I think you mean later today. Although, after all I’ve been through, I might sleep a full twenty-four hours.”
They started down a sloping field towards the distant farm. Smithy wondered, for a moment, whether anyone was there. He’d scavenged a dozen farmhouses during the last few months, and he always held a hope of finding a family alive and living off the land. All he ever found though was bodies. Farming families had been determined to live and die on their land, no matter the cost.
Once they were halfway down the slope, it became clear they were indeed approaching a farm. They even passed an old tractor abandoned in the field. Weeds grew around it in place of whatever crops had originally been planted. Startled movement inside suggested rats, or something bigger.
A pair of barns rose ahead, and Smithy visited the nearest. The sally port was open, and a mountain of rotting hay lay inside. Fortunately, there was also a rack of body warmers meant for horses, which Smithy decided to use as a sheet and mattress. They were musty, but there were worse stenches to endure nowadays. He and David climbed the hay mountain and made beds towards the back beneath the sloping rafters. No one would see them from below. They were hidden. Safe.
Smithy rolled himself up in the body warmers and felt his eyelids clamping shut immediately. “Hey, Dave,” he muttered, “I know you’re a good demon, but don’t eat me or anything while I’m asleep, okay?”
David gasped. “I would never.”
“I’m kidding. See you when I wake up, okay?”
“Sleep good, Smithy. I sleep too. Then we walk.”
Smithy tried to nod but his head was too heavy. Yes, he thought, tomorrow we walk, searching for a castle in the forest with an army of survivors. What a lovely dream to have.
Mass awoke on the floor. He opened his eyes and his vision spun. His stomach turned over and over. He heard a voice – “Y-You’re alive?” – and glanced up to see Gross staring at him. He was still tied to a chair and blood stained his naked chest and most of the floor. Mass didn’t know where it had all come from.
Then he remembered being cut. His throat bleeding.
He looked around and saw piles of bandages. He raised a hand to his throat and felt a clump of bandages there too. Somehow he had stopped himself from bleeding to death.
“I thought for sure you’d bled out,” said Gross. His words were a quiet mutter as his mouth had been sliced wide open. He had to be careful to only part his lips a tiny amount with each word. “You stemmed most of it, but I still didn’t have much hope. You’ve been out a few hours. Where are the rest of the guys?”
Mass didn’t know if he could speak, so it was a surprise when he managed it more or less normally. “They… They’re dead. There was an injured man with a bomb strapped to his waist. A trap.”
“Fuck!” Gross groaned as his mouth parted slightly. More quietly, he swore again. “Fuck it! Addy!”
“No, not Addy. Addy’s alive. London too. They’re outside, set up on a hill. Tox and a couple of guys came here separately before the bomb went off. They could still be alive too.”
Gross sighed. “We’re still in the game.”
“Barely. We’ve lost half-a-dozen of our guys. And Honeywell.”
“We lost Tusk too. He tried to make a run for it when they marched us off the coach. His body is probably still out there somewhere.” Gross gritted his teeth and looked away, fighting tears.
Mass sat up. When the hook-handed bastard had cut him, he must have missed the jugular – or the artery or whatever – and just given him a nasty gash in the meat of his neck. He’d evidently lost a lot of blood, but he wasn’t dying. In fact, other than feeling woozy, he didn’t feel that bad. It was time to get the fuck out of there. “We need to search for Tox and the others. That bitch Gemma probably led them into an ambush.” He shook his head in anger. “She’s gonna pay for this.”
Gross tugged at the ropes around his arms. “Why are they doing this, man? What are they trying to achieve?
“I heard them asking you about Portsmouth. Seems like they want to attack us or something.”
“They’d have to be crazy. There can’t be more than twenty guys here. The guy with the hook is leader. He kept going on about finishing what Allah had started.”
“Bloody Allah. Will we ever be free of fucking religion?”
Gross rolled his eyes. “I suppose demons arriving from Hell kind of reinforces the whole Heaven and Earth thing. Mass, can you get me out of this goddamn chair, man?”
“Let me try.” He stood and went behind the chair. For a moment, his vision blurred, but he managed to focus on the knot. It was well tied, but fortunately his captors weren’t the cautious type and hadn’t checked him for weapons. He could still feel the penknife he kept in the thigh pocket of his baggy jeans. It wasn’t a weapon he could defend himself with, but it would be just fine for cutting through ropes. “Hold still, mate.”
As soon as the ropes gave, Gross pulled his arms forward and moaned in pain. Mass had to hiss at him to be quiet. “Give me a break,” he said. “My arms have been wrapped around this goddamn chair for hours.”
Mass got to work on the ropes around Gross’s legs. “If they hear us, you’ll have to fight them with your legs tied together, so bite your lip.”
“Not funny, man.”
Mass looked up at Gross’s ruined mouth and grimaced. “Sorry, man.”
“
Ladies like scars, huh?”
“I’m sure Addy will love it.”
The comment caught Gross by surprise and his eyes went wide. “What, why would you say—”
“Easy, man. We can discuss you and Addy later. Let’s focus on our actual problems right now. There, you’re free. Now we have to escape with only a penknife between us.”
Gross rubbed his ankles and groaned again. “You know kung fu, right?”
“Kung fu’s for show-offs. Krav Maga is what the professionals use.”
“Great, so you know Krav Maga?”
“I think you just have to elbow people a lot. Come on, we can do this.”
Mass tried the door. It was locked. He swore under his breath, but he wasn’t beaten yet. It was just a normal interior handle with a keyhole, not the latest in apocalyptic security, and the screws were large and exposed. He took his penknife and started unscrewing one of the screws. It was a fiddly task and took over a minute, but eventually he moved on to the other three and removed the handle from the door.
“Great,” said Gross. “What do we do now?”
Mass wasn’t sure, but he had revealed a soft metal bar that ran through a hole in the door. He wrapped a strip of his sleeve around it and then forced it with his fingers. It didn’t take much pressure for him to feel something click.
“You got it,” said Gross. “Nice one.”
Mass tried pulling on the door. It slipped the catch and began to open. They were out.
But not yet free.
Mass crouched and moved into the hallway. He whispered for Gross to follow, and together the two of them crept across the landing. It was quiet – no chatting voices or the heavy breathing of sleepy guards. They had been left unattended. “Don’t these people have any concern about us escaping?” said Mass. “There’s not a single guard.”
“Maybe they assumed you’d die – and I was tied to a chair.”
“Still, it ain’t clever, and it don’t feel right.”
Gross paused at the stairwell’s bannister and looked at Mass. “You’re right. Even more reason to hurry up and get out.”
Hell On Earth Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 122