by SD Tanner
“Nope, but I ain’t gotta choice either. It’s this or everyone’s killed by the demons that are screwin’ with our shit.”
“Yeah, I get the problem. We saw it in New York. I just wondered if you had a plan.”
Together they walked into the tent where Wolfie was intently studying a map. Looking up as they walked in, he broke into a huge grin. “Gears, man! Good to see ya. How was the ride in?”
“Crap. We lost the truck about ten miles back.”
Wolfie gave him a sympathetic look. “How’s my boy Anton doing?”
“He’s good. He’s at the Ranch with baby Bob, Mac and baby Ip. Mom and Pop are takin’ care of ‘em. Jacob’s back there too, plus a bunch of shooters jus’ in case Ruler arrives early.”
Looking surprised, Wolfie asked, “Err, why did you leave the babies at the battleground?”
“Ask Mac. I told him to send ‘em back to the base, but he reckons they belong where they are.”
Narrowing his eyes at Mackenzie, Wolfie said, “You’ve got ‘splainin’ to do, son, but right now we need to talk about this battle. If we’re gonna have to march, then we need a plan.”
Everywhere was cold and he assumed they were all sitting in a hell zone of demons. He blew his warm breath into his hands, but he was still wearing his hard knuckle assault gloves, and they were offering him no relief from the pervasive cold. Ip had run off and he assumed she was with Isaac. She and Isaac still shared a bond and he often wondered why. She was Death and Isaac was just an infected boy, but for a woman who was often detached from the human race, Ip loved Isaac. They discussed the logistics of marching seventy thousand people to the Ranch, but there wasn’t much to say. Wolfie had checked all the optional routes, and they selected the most direct one, following a combination of primary and secondary roads.
It took another five hours for the rest of the convoy to show up, and when they did, they were on foot, looking tired and hungry. Mike had anticipated their needs by reorganizing the tents and having food prepared from the supplies. By the time Pax, TL and Captain Ted arrived with their forty thousand troops it was getting dark, and he was relieved the hunters were nowhere to be seen.
It took several hours to get the people to set up their tents, and to assess what equipment and supplies survived the loss of their vehicles. Having been flown in by Hatch, Terry and his medical team, including Angel, were already at the Ranch. For now they relied on their military trained medics for support, but so far, aside from a few sprained limbs and strained backs, there were no major injuries. Settling outside the large tent with TL, Wolfie, Mike, Nelson, BD and Captain Ted, they shared a meal around a brightly burning campfire. Logan, Ip, Mackenzie and Isaac left to prowl the perimeter of the camp for any stray hunters, and Pax went to check on the troops. Pitted around their large camp were bright fires that lit the deep darkness of the night, and over the sound of the crackling fire, people were laughing and calling to one another in the darkness. It was nearly midnight, but no one seemed keen to turn in just yet.
Putting down his MRE beef dinner, he breathed in the smoky scent of the fire and thought, I’ve been here before. In the gloom between the bright fires, his vision blurred slightly, and the men no longer wore ACUs, but were dressed in rough-hewn clothes much like the ones he’d seen when he met himself at the Ranch. Standing up, he walked into the gloom and sensed a presence next to him.
“Hello, brother.”
Next to him was the man who’d guided him at the Ranch just a week or so earlier. “I’ve been waitin’ for you to show up again.”
His guide pointed to the haphazardly erected tents. “Sloppy soldiering.”
“Maybe in your day, but we don’t fight like Romans no more.”
“War isn’t a passive game. You have to engage with your enemy and fight them man to man. Discipline is everything when you lead men into battle. Discipline is the leadership that gives them the confidence to forge a way to live.”
“They’re disciplined,” he replied curtly, annoyed at being told what he already knew. “If they weren’t disciplined, they wouldn’t be here. They’d have run away, or would be disobeyin’ orders. People aren’t the same as they were in your day.”
Laughing, his guide replied, “In my day? As if man ever changes. Man is man, but you’re right, they’re here and in good spirits.” Slapping his shoulder hard, his guide added, “Well done, brother.”
“You might not say that in two days when we’ve lost this battle.”
“Why do you think you’ll lose?”
Stopping next to the one of the tents, he turned to his guide. “Ruler has millions of hunters to use against us. I have no weapons other than swords and knives, and he has personal and heavy weapons. It ain’t possible to win this battle, but I accept I have no choice but to try.”
Still smiling, but shaking his head, his guide said, “We’ve told you how to solve the problem. Call to War and the battle ends.”
Disappointed no useful advice was coming, he pulled away from his guide. “You’re about as helpful as Ip.” Giving him a filthy look, he added irritably, “If you ain’t gonna be any use, then you might as well leave.”
Still feeling frustrated, he walked away in disgust and Pax was walking towards him. Drawing closer, he grinned and asked, “Are you not getting’ along with yourself, Gears? I always told ya, you’re a pain in the ass.”
Surprised Pax could see a man who wasn’t there, he asked, “You saw him?”
Pax chuckled, “Yeah and he’s as ugly as you. Must be rough bein’ so damned ugly for all eternity.”
“Shaddup, Pax. Do somethin’ useful with yourself and gimme a sitrep.”
Still smirking, Pax said, “It’s all good. Everyone is armed with basic hand-to-hand weapons, plus they’ve got their personal weapons in reserve.” Looking around the camp, he added, “They’re all fed, watered, got somewhere to sleep and in good spirits. There’s a few injuries, but nothin’ major. Anyone who can’t travel can stay here when we pull out in the mornin’.” Punching him on the shoulder, he said, “It’s all good, War. You should get some sleep. Ya worry too much and it makes you crabby.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Hell night (Ruler)
Fires were burning brightly, high into the night sky and there was the sounds of men catcalling and hooting far across the land. Hunters ran wildly with their heads vibrating manically, and over the sounds of their fierce growling were high-pitched screams cutting through the night. Looking up into the sky, he watched the sharp lights spitting from the flames, and saw his bats swooping in delight at the festivities below. The night was full of manic, erratic movement, as if the Dead Souls and hunters were dancing to a tune only the dead could hear. Next to him was a man dressed in a dark funeral suit, but he knew this was only how the man saw himself and not how he truly was. No doubt the man had been dead for decades, possibly centuries, and was one of his prisoners in hell. There were a dozen young children darting in between the hunters, giggling in a mad game of chase. They didn’t belong to him, but with the gates to hell open, all the dead were restless. Even those who were only lost were joining the hordes of demons and undead condemned to eternal hell.
For once his rage was quiet, and he turned and walked back into the house. Inside Hull was finishing his meal and he carelessly tossed his empty MRE pack to the floor. Wiping his mouth with his hand, he asked, “What’s going on out there?”
He threw his heavy, curvaceous body into a dirty, but still cushioned sofa. “They’re amusing themselves.” Admiring his well-manicured nails, he added, “I’m bored and I want to join them.”
Hull gave him a stern look. “Not yet. We need to get organized.”
They were only twenty-five miles from the agreed battlefield, and Hull insisted they found a house he could sleep in for the night. He didn’t need to sleep and neither did the demons, the hunters or the dead. Studying Hull, he wondered if he still needed him. With the gates to hell open and his Dead Souls and hunters, he suspec
ted he wouldn’t need any of Hull’s toys. He’d used him to get him this far, but now the man was boring and he contemplated torturing him.
Narrowing his eyes, Hull said, “Don’t even think about it. You still need me.”
Despite himself, he admired his audacity. Usually he inspired terror in men, but Hull genuinely didn’t care and torturing him wouldn’t be any fun. The man would take it in his stride and that wouldn’t feed his hunger for pain.
Smiling seductively, he said, “Even with their toys, the Horsemen can’t deal with millions of hunters, and they won’t have their toys anyway. The bats are making sure of that.” Crossing his long shapely legs, and cocking his head at Hull, he asked, “What do you think they can do without their toys?”
“I dunno. But I do know they’re resourceful and we need to be prepared for anything. I’ve laid out a battle plan. I want arty behind the lines and the demons in vehicles, fully armed behind the hunters. The hunters will go in first. If it goes the way you think it will, then the hunters will win the battle for us. If not, then we’ll get arty to blow the shit out of them, and the Dead Souls can mop up any stragglers using their personal weapons.”
“We won’t need your toys. We can do this using the hunters alone.”
“The problem with you is you’re always overconfident. I was taught to have backup plans. If one tactic fails, we need another one already planned. Battles never go the way you think they will, and they happen fast, so backup plans have to be in place and ready to roll.”
Now feeling even more bored, he sighed and said dismissively, “I’ve given you all the power you need, so do as you please.” Hearing a sharp and desperate scream outside, he looked towards the window with anticipation. “Why are you even talking to me? I’ve got other things to do.”
“I want to know what the demons and ghosts are doing.”
He couldn’t understand why Hull was interested in the bats. “Playing.”
Rolling his eyes impatiently, Hull asked, “What does that mean? As the commander of tomorrow’s battle, I need to use every resource I have and I wanna know what they can do.”
The demons pouring out of the gates to hell had been there since the beginning of time and they rarely left. There was a hierarchy in hell, and demons came in all different types and forms with varying abilities. Demons existed to punish the souls unlucky or stupid enough to deserve eternal damnation, but it was all about energy. Through their eternal suffering, the damned souls fueled the fires of hell and maintained the millions of demons. The pain they endured and the suffering they shared with the demons kept hell alive. If man ever got his act together, he could starve hell, but to date there’d never been any risk of that. It was the core of the fight between himself and heaven, and each side jockeyed to win souls to maintain their domain. Only the Horsemen could reset the game by deciding which side should own more of mankind. When they called a side, one side was allowed to gain more souls and therefore able to rule. In his view, it was all politics and it annoyed him the Horsemen often favored the other side. When they enforced their ruling, some of the souls would be released from hell and sent to heaven. If that happened he’d have to waste time winning more souls to his side, but even if he lost the battle, the game wouldn’t end. Luckily for him, man was weak and he knew he could always replenish his domain quickly enough.
Not really wanting to waste the night talking to Hull, he replied, “It depends on whether the gates to hell are open. While they are, the demons and damned souls can be destructive by killing and breaking things. It’s all they’re really good for, and if the gates close, then they’ll be drawn back into hell.”
“Can the gates be closed?”
“They’re usually closed. If they weren’t, the demons and dead would walk earth all the time.” Speaking to Hull as if he was a stupid child, he added, “The demons don’t like being cooped up in hell, and the souls of the damned rather despise the place. They’re only open now because we’re winning. If we lose, then the gates close.”
“But there’s always been stories of demons and ghosts. How do they get out if the gates are closed?”
“Sometimes the living call them and then they can leave, and they’re never quick to go back to hell once they get out. And if enough men call them, then the gates to hell open and they can all leave.”
“So, you’re saying enough people want hell on earth?” Hull asked incredulously.
“No. Man doesn’t call for me by asking for the Devil. Not too many people are stupid enough to do that. I have a very bad reputation, you know, and it’s really quite uncalled for.”
“How do they call if they don’t ask for you?”
Rolling his eyes and smirking, he thought of all the foolish people who held séances and played with Ouija boards, believing they were summoning hell. It always amused him that man thought some childish toy could summon a demon, but it also annoyed him man didn’t grasp hell was nothing to wish for. Ah well, he thought, if man was any smarter, I’d never win any souls. The way into hell was not to ask for it using a child’s toy, or holding hands and chanting around a pentagon. He sniggered to himself and wondered why anyone would think the universe would work that way.
“It’s about how man feels. When man loses hope, he loses his power. It’s only hope that keeps man alive. Without hope, he looks for distractions and he lets anger rule. Man can be quite cruel and detached, and in that way he calls to me, and my demons are always willing to help.”
“That’s a dangerous system. Man loses hope when everything looks hopeless and man’s not in control of that.”
“Ah well, that’s the beauty of the system. Keeping hope alive relies on man pulling together and they don’t do that readily. It’s why there’s an eternal conflict. Their desire to fight with one another is inbuilt into their nature. I can be guaranteed, at any moment in time, there are souls being treated badly somewhere and losing hope. There’s always been an endless supply of lost souls, and I can always hurry it along with a few well-placed demons.”
“Why was it set up this way?”
“Emotional energy is the most powerful fuel there is. The human mind is limitless and its capacity to feel generates an unlimited energy. Think about the intensity of the emotion of anger or love. These emotions can drive a person to do more than is physically possible. In other words, man’s emotions can override reality. The universe harnesses the power of all of the emotions man feels. Pain and war manifest deep emotional responses in man, so the perpetual conflict between good and evil results in perpetual energy. The Horseman are here to make sure no side ever permanently wins, and the delicate balance of the universe is maintained.” Now feeling utterly bored, he uncrossed his long legs and walked to the door. “We each have our part to play. I just get very bad press for my part and it’s not fair.”
“Where are you going?”
“To play my part,” he replied with a wink. “Do what you need to do and then you can join me. Hell is your home too.”
Standing on the porch, he surveyed the landscape, and so many fires were burning, the night was lit by a warm red glow. In the burning light, he could see hunters were dancing with excitement, and men in ACUs were dragging women from trucks parked haphazardly across the plain. Cries of pain and shrieks of fear burst into the air, and he knew this night would be a long one for those who would suffer. He breathed in the smoke from the fire, feeling a burst of pleasure explode inside him, and a white energy pulsed through the rage that filled him. It was a long time since he had so many fresh souls to feed on and such able demons wanting to make them suffer.
Stepping down from the porch, he walked across to the large burning pyre in front of the house and admired the work of his demons. They’d erected one of his favorite devices. On each side of the burning pit were stakes, and lying on the ground was a long metal rod that would rest on top of each one. The living would be chained to the rod and then suspended over the fire until they slowly cooked. While their flesh
became raw and then burned, the fat from their bodies would drip into the pit and add to the brightness of the flames. The odor of cooking flesh would make the demons drool in delight, and the sounds of the victims screams would only add to their pleasure. Cooking people who couldn’t die was one of his favorite pastimes, and when done well, the victims would howl in pain for days.
While he watched, his demons brought two women across to the fiery pit. For some reason Hull insisted his Army of the Dead Souls were all male. He didn’t understand why and he didn’t care enough to question him either, but it did mean any women they found were used as food or for fun. The hunters preferred their food alive and bleeding, but his demons were less fussy, and cooked meat was as good as raw. They devoured the emotions of the suffering victims, and ate their flesh while they slowly cooked. The demons were stripping the terrified women naked, and wrapping chains around their torso and legs to secure them to the metal rod. The women were crying hysterically and around them demons were clapping and laughing in delight. Walking over to a woman lying on her back, and already chained to the rod, he crouched down and placed his hand on her head. She was dark haired and pretty, but a little thin for his liking. He knew plump, fleshy bodies offered so many more options when it came to hurting them.
With desperate eyes, the woman pleaded, “Please let me go.”
Smiling benevolently, he said nothing, but closed his eyes and felt her fear flood his mind. Sighing contentedly, he thought, this really is better than sex, and his endless rage was soothed for just a moment.
With her eyes bulging in panic, the woman begged, “Please, please don’t do this. What do you want from me? I’ll give you anything.”
He paused, opened his eyes and asked silkily, “What could you possibly offer me?”
Licking her red lips nervously, the woman stuttered, “I…I…don’t know. Whatever you want, you can have. Just don’t kill me like this. I can’t bear it. I’ll go insane. I…I…I can’t…please…I’m begging you, don’t, please don’t...”