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 smirked 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.
Carol tapped him on the shoulder. “What are you waiting for, David?” She, and everybody else in the office, had gathered in a semi-circle around him, waiting for him to update the new website with all the information they had gained so far. News of refugee operations and safe areas, sightings of enemy armies, and a warning that demons could take human form—like Andras. The main thing they needed to know was how to close the gates. The gates were the demons’ means of reinforcements. Closing them would be vital to gain a foothold in the war.
“I’m just a little nervous,” David explained, reaching up and adjusting the bandage over his missing eye. The
cotton had stuck to his burned face and made him wince every time he moved. “This could be the moment the tides change. We hold the information on how to fight back. It’s… Momentous.”
“We’re not the only ones who know,” said Martin. “British Intelligence is getting word out wherever it can.”
David looked at Mitchell. “How many subscribers does the website have?”
“Ninety-three thousand.”
David nodded. “Enough to make a difference. Our entire careers have been about giving people the news, letting them know what they need to. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m about to achieve that goal.”
“Just press send, you daft apeth,” Carol urged.
David clicked the mouse and uploaded the website. Then he sat back and sighed. “It’s done.”
There was silence in the room, and nothing happened. They hadn’t expected anything right away. The amount of comments on the website had been tapering even before Andras had deleted it, but there were still thousands of subscribers who were paying attention. Hopefully, some of them would make use of the information.
David glanced around the room until he located whom he wanted. “Corporal Martin, let me know the moment we receive word of any more gates closing. We need to pray that the one in Syria was not a fluke. We need to pray that people fight back.”
Martin nodded and got to work. Carol went back to giving orders, and David just sat there at Mina’s desk. He had just finished what she had started. He was proud of the work they’d done together. We did it, Mina. We got something useful and sent it out, just like you wanted.
Little Alice wandered over to him a couple of minutes later, carrying a mug of tea. She gave it to him, and he took a sip through his ruined lips; it was much stronger than before. “You’re getting very good at making tea, Alice. You were very brave yesterday, when you helped me fight Andras.”
She nodded, looked afraid, yet brave at the same time. “He was one of them, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was. You did the right thing. You could have run away, but instead, you fought. If all people are as brave as you, we’ll be okay.”
“Kyle didn’t run. He fought.”
David sighed and put his arm around the girl. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to know the lad better. I think I would have liked him.”
“Mom and dad will be upset when they find out.”
“They still have you, and for that, they will be grateful, trust me. Is Corporal Martin still trying to reach them?”
“I think he’s busy.”
“Well, I’m sure your mummy and daddy are waiting to hear from you. We’ll try them again soon.”
Alice looked at him like she didn’t believe it, but she trotted away obediently. Of all the tragedy David had witnessed, seeing that little girl lost in a foreign country and watching her brother die was the saddest. He would do whatever he could to see her reunited with someone who loved her.
For now, he left his seat and headed out of the office. He had something to attend to, and was very much looking forward to it. His face was a ruined mess, and he had witnessed the death of thousands—the man he had once been was gone, and it was time to do what was needed.
Andras was still tied up when David entered the storage closet outside in the waiting area. Cleaning supplies and an old floor buffer had filled it previously, but now, it made the perfect cell for a paralysed demon.
“Hello, Andras. How are you feeling?”
Andras scowled, both eyes still useless and blind. “You think you can keep a Marquis of Hell prisoner?”
David chuckled. “In a dirty broom closet, no less. Such audacity, I never thought I was capable of.”
“I will gut you.”
“Perhaps, but not now, and not today. Today, I get to be the one doing beastly things to human flesh.”
“There is nothing you can do-”
David pulled the steak knife out of his pocket and buried it in Andras’s collarbone, making him scream. While the pain was still fresh, he grabbed a bottle of bleach and emptied it onto the wound. “So fortunate you still have some feeling left. Makes this a lot more fun.”
Andras squealed like a stuck pig.
“You and I are going to become very well acquainted, Andras, dear boy. You’re going to tell me all about The Fallen and the dreadful monsters that serve them.”
Andras grunted, got on top of his pain enough to curse and swear. “I will never!”
David grabbed the steak knife and pulled it free, before burying it in Andras left ear. Once it slid in, he twisted it and sliced the flap of skin in two.
Andras bellowed so loud that it made David flinch, but it was music to his ears, and he ended up grinning. “Another thing you need to know about humans, Andras: We don’t cope terribly well with pain. What was it you said? We’re all so weak and mushy. I am going to teach you all about pain, one scrap of skin at a time, and for every life that your abominable colleagues take, I will extract retribution on you. You might have come from Hell, but you have seen nothing yet. I’m going to be the biggest monster you’ve ever met.”
David got to work, mastering the various ways to make a human being scream. Even if the demons conquered the world, this one would pay dearly. If mankind had a chance, they would have to lose a part of their humanity and become more like the monsters.
Blood covered David within minutes, and he embraced it.
VAMPS
London, England
“Yo, Vamps, I can’t do another day, man.”
Vamps looked at his boy, Gingerbread, and shook his head. “You’ve seen what’s happening to our streets, Ginge. We don’t got no choice but to help out. Things are fucked up. People need us.”
Gingerbread had grown pale, as he always did when he was tired. It made his red hair stand out even more, especially his beard. His expression was the same as Vamps five-year old nephew, Bradley, when he wanted sweets but got cabbage. “Vamp, man, we ain’t heroes. We gangsters.”
“Yeah, we gangsters, and another gang is moving onto our turf.”
Ravy joined the conversation. “They’re monsters. I never signed up to fight no monsters.”
“Me either,” said Mass.
Vamps turned to face him. “We never signed on for nothing. We were born and raised, yo. This fight came to us. We go out and we help, just like we did yesterday. We stopped some bird from getting raped. Do you not get that? She’s alive because of us.”
Mass stood up from the floor and nodded. His grey hoodie was badly torn where he had fought with a demon. His MMA skills had come in handy and his strong arms had allowed him to throttle it until it was dead. “Vamps is right. I like how it feels… I mean, what’s going down is shit, but I liked the feeling when we helped people yesterday. I felt all respectable.”
Ravy was the smallest of them all, and pretty useless in a fight, but he had done his part. “Fine, but eventually we gonna die. This ain’t the boys from West Ham, this is some serious shit.”
“Way I see it,” said Vamps, “the chances of us dying are pretty high anyway. Least this way we take some of those ugly bitches down with us.” He looked at Gingerbread.
Gingerbread sighed. “Alright, I’m in. What’s the plan?”
Vamps grinned, glad that his boys were sound. “We go out and head towards the first scream we hear. Arm up, boys, today ain’t gonna be the day we die.”
They grabbed their guns and knives and headed out of the Boots Megastore where they had holed up during the night. The fighting in the city had continued, but only in small pockets now. Before finding sanctuary, they had encountered a group of Chinese tourists in Leicester square. They were surrounded by hunched over demons and fighting back as best they could. One of them even knew Kung Fu, which had been amusing. The small Chinese man had been swooping and swirling amongst the demons like a ferret and breaking their arms and legs. Before they finally fell on top of him, he had killed at least a dozen. It had bought the rest of his companions
some time—time enough for Vamp and the boys to come to the rescue.
Vamps had led the vanguard, popping off shots from his granpop’s Browning. The boys had added fire from their own pieces and, in the matter of minutes, the fight was over. Their numbers had been growing less and less, not because they were dying, but because they seemed to be heading out of the city. Only a few smatterings had been left behind to terrorise survivors like the Chinese tourists.
The city was quiet and cold, the dawn sunlight not enough to bring warmth. Dead bodies littered the streets and begun to smell. The scent of blood was not as strong as the scent of shit. Vamps had never seen a dead person before, but it seemed that they all shat their kegs before moving on. It wouldn’t be long before the streets were stinking with disease. He would have to get his boys out of there soon. Perhaps tonight they would head out and make for the coast.
Right now though, they had to patrol the streets. When this war was over, and if they lived, they might just get some respect. No more being kept down by society because they were young and broke, and crew up in council-owned flats. They would be warriors, respected by all. When the shit went down, the upper classes were nowhere to be seen. There were no middle-class heroes in a ground war.
“Hey,” Gingerbread pointed. “Something’s going on down there.”
Vamps put a hand over his eyes to shield his sight from the rising sun. There was definitely movement. “Piccadilly Circus,” he muttered. “The place was clear last night when we passed through.”
“It isn’t now,” said Ravvy. “There’s a bus coming.”
Vamps frowned. “If there’s a working bus, why the hell isn’t it trying to bounce? They should be fleeing as fast as the wheels will take them.”
They picked up their pace and hurried towards the bus. The brightly lit signs on the corner of Piccadilly Circus were scorched and blackened from a fire in the shop below.
The bus up ahead stopped. It was not a city bus, but a plain white bus with darkened windows. The air brakes hissed and then the door folded open. A man in a grey suit exited and lit a cigarette.
The Gates: An Apocalyptic Novel Page 28