When There's No More Room in Hell 3

by Luke Duffy

  "Okay," he nodded, and then indicated to the man standing behind Kelly to escort her outside.

  She was untied from the chair, but her hands remained bound behind her back. She was half carried and half dragged out through the door and into the open.

  The cold air almost took her breath away as it assaulted her straining and burning lungs. It was still dark, with just a hint of morning light spreading across the sky from the east and the temperature was not many degrees above zero.

  Kelly was forced across a muddied open area surrounded by a number of long rectangular buildings. She was thrown to the ground, the cold mud smearing her face and seeping into her clothing, clogging her hair into thick clumps.

  She raised her head, coughing out the filth that had poured into her mouth, and saw a number of men, armed and wearing military uniforms, standing in a wide circle around the area of the courtyard.

  From behind her, she heard doors being thrown open and more people approaching, their feet tramping in the soft mud. The distinct sound of whimpering children and crying mothers was unmistakable, and Kelly twisted herself to see what remained of the helicopter group.

  Sophie and Claire were in front, holding Sarah, Liam and David close to them as they looked about in fear, clinging to one another for comfort in the early morning cold. More people, men, women and children were escorted from the outlying buildings. Kelly did not recognise any of them and believed them to be other prisoners of the insane General Gibson.

  Next, another figure was dragged from a separate building. Two soldiers hauled the barely conscious body between them, and then dumped the unfortunate soul in to the mud beside her.

  The figure let out a groan and slowly rolled onto its back. Through the blood and smeared filth, Kelly recognised Hussein's face.

  "Well then, Captain MacReady, now that you're all together," Gibson said as he crouched down in the mud beside her.

  She stared back at him then glanced at the others.

  Gibson saw the expression on her face and smiled broadly.

  "Yes, that is right, Captain," he gloated, "this is all that remains of your little band of survivors, except these two over here."

  He turned and nodded towards two more figures that were tied to posts in the centre of the courtyard. Both of their heads drooped, covered in mud and hard to identify in the darkness. Their bodies slumped against the restraints while they groaned and their heads lolled, as they were clearly close to collapse.

  Gibson turned back to Kelly and smiled warmly as he raised himself to his feet.

  "Oh, but don’t worry, we took care of the others in the helicopter for you. They won't be getting back up. See, we're not savages here, Captain MacReady."

  He stepped back and viewed the soldiers and civilian captives around him.

  "My aim this evening is to prove a point to you good people." the General spoke loudly in his usual warm manner, addressing all that were assembled, including the survivors from the Safari Park.

  "Captain MacReady and Lieutenant Palmer decided to betray me, and in times of war, as we find ourselves now, we cannot afford to suffer mutineers. Therefore, examples must be set for us to maintain order and discipline. We cannot win this war without absolute obedience and discipline."

  He stepped forward, his boots squelching in the freezing wet mud, and approached Claire as she stood, shivering from cold and fear. He looked down at Sarah who clung to her mother's waist and smiled at her. He squatted down and reached out, stroking her hair.

  "You understand, don’t you, little girl?" he asked, still smiling with unblinking cold eyes as he spoke to the terrified Sarah.

  "Discipline is something that your teachers surely taught you about. The whole world depends on it. Whether it is in business, politics or war, success can never be accomplished if discipline is not enforced to its fullest."

  Sarah stared back at him, her eyes wide and the whites glowing in the darkness. She was terrified. The man speaking to her was neither one of the living, or the dead. He was something else and much more frightening than anything that now roamed the earth. His voice was soft but his words turned to searing flames as they penetrated her ears and his eyes, they never blinked or showed a fraction of emotion.

  The man was a monster and Sarah saw him as the Devil himself.

  Gibson stood up and ruffled Sarah's hair, still smiling down at her as he stepped backwards to continue his address.

  "Okay then, on with the show."

  He turned to the two bodies trussed up against the posts and held a hand out towards them, indicating them to his audience.

  "This is Lieutenant Palmer," he paused and thought, "or as you all may know him, Joey. He was one of my men. A man that I considered a good soldier and pilot, loyal and trustworthy, but he betrayed us."

  Joey groaned and raised his head, exposing his battered and bloodied features, and for a fleeting moment, he and Kelly had eye contact. She could see the suffering he was going through and her heart pounded in her chest as she watched him, his swollen eyes pleading with her to help him.

  "This," Gibson made a chopping motion with his hand towards Joey, leaving no one in doubt to whom he was referring.

  "This man was one of mine and must now be disciplined."

  He nodded to one of the soldiers standing close by. The man nodded back then strode towards Joey as he remained slumped and restrained against the post, unable to move as the soldier drew a long knife from a pouch on his hip.

  Without a word, the soldier gripped Joey by the hair, forcing his head back against the post, and dragged the sharp blade across his throat, slicing deep and creating a wide chasm in Joey's flesh.

  Instantly, Joey began to thrash and kick at his restraints as the soldier stepped back from him.

  Bright red blood sprayed in a wide arc, soaking through Joey's clothing and splashing into the mud at his feet as he continued to convulse. A sickening, wet sucking noise and panicked gasps emitted from the gaping wound in his neck as he struggled for air, but with his trachea destroyed and his arteries severed, it was a matter of seconds before Joey became still and silent, falling back against his bonds, his head slumping forward.

  Sarah screamed and buried her face in her mother's arms as Claire and Sophie stood watching in horror and crying uncontrollably, pulling the children close in an attempt to comfort and reassure them.

  Kelly whimpered and buried her face in the cold mud below her as she watched the life slowly slip from her friend.

  "You bastards," she cried softly to herself as her floods of tears mixed with the mud covering her face. "You, bastards..."

  Two soldiers then came and untied Joey's body, allowing it to fall heavily into the filth, and leaving just a length of rope secured around one leg, attached to the post at the other end.

  It was clear that General Gibson intended for Joey to reanimate.

  Gibson then strode across to the second figure tied to the stake beside Joey. As he pushed the man's head back, Kelly recognised Carl.

  He was just as badly beaten and disorientated as Joey had been and she feared that he would not survive for much longer.

  "You, my friend," Gibson spoke soothingly in to Carl's face.

  "You will remain here and wait for Lieutenant Palmer to wake up. Then you can have someone to keep you company. Wouldn’t that be nice?"

  Carl's head rolled in Gibson's hand and one eye prised itself open against the swelling, splitting the encrusted blood that covered his face.

  "Fuck you," Carl grumbled.

  Gibson smiled back at him then turned to his soldiers.

  "Take the Captain back in to the interrogation room and bring the girl and her mother too," he ordered, "they can help us with our enquiries."

  He then indicated to Sophie and the two boys, Liam and David, and then Hussein who remained in the mud beside Kelly.

  "Throw the others back in the pig shed."

  Kelly, Claire and Sarah were taken to the farmhouse and dumped in the kitch
en. Claire and Kelly were bound and tied to the chairs but Sarah was left with her hands free as ordered by the General.

  He sat watching them, his unblinking eyes studying the women, making them feel uneasy and unsure of what his intentions were.

  "Would you like something to eat, little one? Maybe a drink?" Gibson asked as he turned to Sarah and smiled.

  Sarah remained staring at the ground. She was terrified of looking into his cold, unfeeling eyes again, for fear of what she might see; even his voice, though calm and soft, was enough to send a shiver down her spine. She had seen the evil that dwelled behind his eyes and she had witnessed the merciless savagery that he was capable of just moments before in the courtyard.

  The General nodded to the soldier standing by the door, and he left the room, returning a few minutes later with a bottle of orange juice, which he placed on the table in front of Sarah.

  "Thank you," she mumbled, still staring at the floor and not wanting to upset the General or his men by showing a lack of gratitude.

  Gibson smiled at her then turned to Kelly.

  "You’ve seen what I am capable of," he spoke matter-of-factly, referring to the execution of Joey.

  "Now, I need to know where you were going when we shot you from the sky, Captain MacReady."

  "I told you," Kelly replied, her eyes fixed on her boots, "we were looking for a new place to live."

  "Yes, I remember you saying that, but where? I don’t believe for one minute that you did not have a plan. Don’t forget, Captain, my men were watching you for quite some time. We saw your preparations and you clearly had a fixed destination. How else were the rest of your people that were moving by road going to find you?"

  Kelly remained silent. It was only a matter of time before the beatings would start and she knew that she could not hold out forever.

  "Well?" Gibson pressed.

  "Listen, Captain, if you're worried about 'operational security', it doesn’t matter anymore. You are not going anywhere, and the convoy, they have already been taken care of. You won't be seeing them again, I'm afraid."

  Claire's eyes snapped up from the table.

  "What do you mean? What have you done to them?"

  "Only what had to be done, my dear," he replied casually.

  He stood up and unfastened his belt buckle, slipping his pistol and holster from his waist and placing it on the table in front of him.

  "They were a heavily armed group and needed to be neutralised. I couldn’t have a gang of armed bandits roaming the country while I am trying to take it back from the enemy, especially while I am recruiting."

  Kelly looked up, her gaze flicking towards the pistol on the table for a fleeting moment, then locking with Gibson's eyes.

  "So that’s what this is all about, you taking back the country and recruiting?"

  He nodded.

  "Of course, why else would I be on the mainland? In case you haven't noticed, Captain, I am running short on soldiers and need to replenish my ranks. That is why I want to know where you're going. Are there more there, waiting for you?"

  Kelly shook her head and huffed, a wry smile spreading across her face.

  "You lost all your men because you sent them into Glasgow, unsupported and then left them to die there."

  She watched as the General's expression changed to one of concern as she continued to sneer and spit venom at him.

  "You're fucking insane, Gibson. You're not fit for command. You're not even a real general and more people will die because of your ludicrous plan to conquer the world because you're on some fucking power trip. What's the matter, Gibson, were you bullied at school?"

  Gibson's face turned red with rage and, in a flash, he was up from the table, striking Kelly across the face and sending her crashing to the floor as Claire and Sarah reeled in fear.

  Kelly raised her head, looking up at the incensed Gibson standing above her. Her vision blurred and her ears began to ring as her senses lost control of themselves.

  She was barely aware of the screams that suddenly rang out from the courtyard. The long howling shrieks of pain and suffering as the reanimated corpse of Joey ripped the flesh from Carl’s body.

  She lost consciousness.

  33

  His feet trod lightly on the multitude of dried leaves and twigs carpeting the ground below him. Each step was carefully placed as he stalked from tree to tree. He made no sound, his skill and experience illustrated through his movements and confidence in his own ability as he climbed the wooded hill.

  In the darkness, further up ahead of him, he could see the distinct outline of the ridge as its dark shadow contrasted with the pale clouds above, sailing across the night sky.

  He paused for a moment, crouching in the shadow of a large tree as he watched and listened, making sure that he had not been detected. His eyes scanned the ground ahead of him and peered into the darkness on either side. His ears, finely tuned and listening intently to the sounds of the night, detected nothing that he perceived to be a threat.

  He was close, just a few more metres from the summit of the hill and the sentry position that he knew was there, somewhere in the darkness. He scanned the crest of the feature, looking for the guard, but saw no one and he began to fear that the soldiers might have broken camp and left the area.

  Stepping out from behind the tree, he carefully moved forward and to the right, his sixth sense telling him that if there were a sentry position, it would be to his left. He began to skirt around in a wide arc, hoping to come up on the guard from behind and remain undetected until the last possible second.

  He had left his equipment and weapons with Marcus and the others, choosing to travel light, leaving fewer chances of snagging himself against a branch and making noise. All he carried was his knife and radio. He held the knife in his right hand, the hilt wrapped in his palm with the blade running along the inside of his forearm, avoiding the risk of the steel glinting in the dull light.

  He took a few more steps then stopped as something moved to his half left. He froze to the spot, not wanting to make any sudden movements, giving his position away. If someone looked in his direction, he could easily be mistaken for just another tree in the gloom of the thick wood.

  The sound was not that of an animal in the undergrowth or anything else indigenous to the woods. It sounded like a foot scraping against the dirt, a shift in position.

  Now, he had a point of reference to aim for and he hoped beyond hope that it was the sentry and not one of the dead, roaming through the trees in the dark.

  He swallowed hard, glanced about and then continued in his arc, keeping his eye on the area from where he heard the noise. It was impossible to tell with a degree of accuracy where the sound had come from, and he would need to continue his silent stalk until he was virtually on top of the position, lunging at the final moment.

  After a few metres, he stopped again, turning his body so that he faced down the hill and out beyond the trees. He remained crouched, surveying the scene and the lay of the land beyond the woods. The visibility was good and he could see all the approaches to the ridgeline from the north and west. If anyone were to come up the hill, he would be able to see their movements in advance before they got into position to launch an attack. He glanced back over his shoulder, seeing that he was well below the skyline and not silhouetting himself against the pale clouds.

  'If I was going to put out a stag position to cover the north, this is where I would put it,' he thought to himself, coming to the conclusion that the sentry must be just ahead of him, a little further down the hill.

  He knew that the soldiers would not place their defences right on the edge of the wood line; that they would be set back in the cover of the trees. He remained perfectly still, scanning the darkness and focussing his ears for any indication of the guard.

  He was readying himself to move forward a couple of paces when a flash erupted out of the darkness ahead of him. The light brightened a wide area, flickering from the trees and,
more importantly, illuminating the man holding the lighter.

  Robbie watched as the sentry held the flame close to his face, bathing his pale features in a swathe of light. He then extinguished the lighter and puffed on his cigarette, the cherry shining brightly in the darkness, giving Robbie the aiming mark that he needed.

  No other men had been revealed in the area as the light had exposed the position, and Robbie glanced up to the heavens, smiling and thanking the Gods for the gift that they had just dropped in his lap.

  Crouched and moving forward slowly, Robbie closed in, both hands held out before him, ready to grab his victim and silence him before he could cry for help. He kept his eye on the glowing cigarette that danced about hypnotically in the almost pitch black of the shaded wood as the sentry enjoyed what would be his last ever smoke.

  The adrenaline flowed through Robbie's veins and his senses heightened even more as the moment drew nearer. His legs felt light and nimble and his body was coiled like a spring; his strong, powerful arms flexed involuntarily as his body subconsciously limbered itself up, ready for the final leap.

  He was just a couple of metres away now. Close enough to hear the faint crackle of the burning cigarette as the soldier drew on it and then exhaled the plumes of grey/blue smoke that drifted up in to the trees, seemingly creating a glow of its own.

  Robbie could see the full shape of the man in front of him now, and a cursory glance to the left and right confirmed to Robbie that the sentry was alone.

  He took a deep, silent breath, ensuring that his muscles had all the oxygenated blood that they needed for the imminent struggle, a struggle that he must win.

  Without a sound, Robbie threw himself forward, towards the man's back. He landed on top of him, his weight knocking the surprised soldier forward in the sentry position and sending the bright glowing cigarette sailing through the air.

  The startled man let out a gasp, but before he could turn it into a scream, Robbie's large meaty hands had closed over his mouth while his thickset body enveloped him. As they continued to tumble forward, the soldier tried to twist his position, but Robbie's weight and power was too great, and they crashed to the ground and into the dirt.