Demon Gate: Beyond the 9th Circle: The Rapture Was Just The Beginning.

by Heath, Joel

  Spencer returned to the television which was playing an infomercial that boasted a quality product that was anything but. Disappointed, Spencer surfed from one channel to the next until he reached the channel 5 news. They were doing another report about the strange occurrences in Times Square, which Spencer had disregarded as a dream. Spencer was hoping to watch something other than the news, because all they reported was crap. They didn’t even have to look for it to find it, bad news was the norm.

  “For those just joining us, I’m Karen Vasquez reporting on the current events unfolding in Times Square. The military just brought in what they have described as a probe. They plan to send this probe into the vortex in the hopes of understanding what this anomaly is and how it was formed and just what it may be here to do.”

  The camera panned around to show several soldiers maneuvering the probe, a sixwheeled robot, into position with its camera pointed at the black gateway.

  “The military has allowed us to receive the probe’s telemetry feed,” the anchorwoman continued, “which is viewable here with our reporter on the scene, Kevin?”

  She pointed at the screen to her right, which displayed a male reporter in Times Square. Karen stared at the screen, unable to speak. Shock and concern filled her eyes. How am I supposed to describe this?

  “Thank you, Karen,” the male

  correspondent intoned with a smile. “It’s difficult to describe, so we’ll just show you what’s happening.”

  The scene switched to the drone’s camera, which swung and locked onto the portal in the middle of Times Square. It started to draw nearer, blurring and bobbing as the robot lurched forward and quickly covered the half-mile distance to the portal hovering over 46thStreet. There the probe took a brief pause, allowing the viewers to get a sense of awe from the soulsucking black abyss, while it sent footage of the outside parameters of the anomaly to its military handlers. Then the drone moved on, passing into the swirling black vortex. The signal was briefly weakened, causing a brief moment of static on the news view screen.

  As the image returned, the camera panned around what looked like a massive underground grotto. The walls on each side vanished from sight in the gloom. A large chasm opened up on either side of a short land bridge between the other side of the portal and an atoll, which occupied the far side of the grotto. A faint light emanated from somewhere in the grotto like an eerie grey-glowing cavern. An occasional plume of fire erupted up from deep down inside the chasm. On the far side of the massive chamber were millions of dark creatures. Some were winged, some horned and every one of them had glowing red eyes. Suddenly, one appeared mere inches from the camera’s lens holding a jagged sword, which emitted darkness like smoke from a fire. To Spencer the creature looked…demonic. How will anybody know for sure what they are? Spencer thought. The creature plunged its sword into the lens, knocking the video feed out. With pulse racing, Spencer frantically dialed Eric.

  A sound like distorted, high pitched sonar burst forth from the television, wailing into the room, growing exponentially louder. Spencer’s heart started pounding harder and harder as the sound grew louder and louder. It was coming from the portal. The on-the-ground reporter was picking up the sound as he backed further away from the seething black arch. But something even stranger was happening; Spencer also heard it though the through the phone as well as the television.What the hell is this? Spencer’s mind raced as he tapped his fingers, willing his friend talk to him.

  “Yeah?!” Eric finally yelled into the phone. The din at Times Square had reached deafening levels.

  “Eric, where are you?”

  Eric didn’t respond.

  “You’re at Times Square, aren’t you?” Silence reigned. “Get out of there, Eric. Get out of there now! RUN!”

  The din finally subsided, leaving Times Square quiet as a tomb.

  “What is that?” Eric shouted, but he was no longer talking to Spencer. Turning to stare at the television, Spencer saw what Eric was talking about. The probe was emerging from the portal as if it had been tossed back, barely missing several marines as it collided with the ground. Irreparable damage to the probe was evident. Finally a light exploded from the portal to briefly fill the screen, and then the television

  transmission died at the source.

  “Eric?” Spencer called, but there was no response; his phone had dropped the call.

  “Kevin, are you there?” Karen asked emphatically, worry obvious in her voice at the loss of contact with her field correspondent. The small square on screen that had been showing Kevin was all snow and static. Seconds later the station signal died and static filled the whole screen.

  Dread blended with turbulence and uncertainty. Was his dream more than simplistic bleed-over of his worry the night before? Could it have been an actual warning from something that wanted to help him? He felt it was too dangerous to stay, even if he was just being paranoid. He had to get out of Newark. He had to get as far away from New York as possible.

  As Spencer began to pack, he turned on the radio in hopes that some stations were still transmitting. He was hoping for some news so he could figure out which way he should go. He was desperately hoping it was just an equipment failure. The radio did an auto scan through the dial twice. Spencer felt a knot in his stomach. Then it finally picked up a signal from a news station near Battery Park.

  The deejay’s usually mellow voice trembled as he spoke.

  “We just got a report of something happening all over New York City. Strange ‘goings on’ and lot of people have been reported dead!” Spencer felt a cold sweat break out on his arms and forehead. He had to hurry - this was no dream, no joke. Something beyond his

  imagination was happening and there was no time to waste.

  “That’s affirmative. After an incident involving what the military is calling a neutron device malfunction, there are regrettably no survivors around the probe.”

  Dismay filled Spencer. “Damn you, Eric. Why didn’t you just listen to me?”

  After a pause another voice filled the airways. “This is Major General George Lancaster. The President is issuing a state of emergency and calling for a complete evacuation of Manhattan, south New York and the

  surrounding Burroughs. In addition, starting tomorrow morning the states of New Jersey, Maryland, Connecticut, and Pennsylvania will be orderly evacuated according to hurricane guidelines because similar phenomena have been reported in those states. Details are being routed to local authorities for the timeline.” The general’s voice boomed with great authority, “This is not a drill. You are to evacuate New York City immediately!”

  Spencer turned off the radio as the deejay parroted the general’s evacuation orders. Spencer hurriedly packed all of the food and water he could load into his car. After piling in some other various provisions, he returned to his room for a few personal items, knowing that it was only a matter of time before whatever killed Eric and everybody else at Times Square would emerge to strike at the rest of the world.

  Or has it already begun? He wondered. Spencer figured he would need something to help him remain sane while he was on the run from death, something to calm him. Although he had never been very religious, his Holy Bible seemed like the best choice. He also took up his Glock and the three loaded clips that he kept in the top drawer of his dresser. He looked around in disbelief before leaving his room for the last time.

  Thrusting his key into the car ignition, Spencer turned the radio on to track any new disturbances and shifted into drive. Chaos flooded the streets in the form of tens of thousands of people who were clinging to anything with wheels trying to get out of town.

  All these people are blindly panicking. Which way should I go?

  Spencer hit the gas and peeled out. He felt he had to check on Eunice, he knew she had a pacemaker and could be having trouble if she realized her grandson had just been obliterated. She was the closest thing to family he had now, but that could change. Anything could happen with all the ins
anity that surrounded him.

  As he turned into Eunice’s gravel driveway, Spencer saw the security screen was open, banging against the outside wall as the wind gusted. Spencer stopped and pulled himself out of his car. Racing to the door Spencer reached out and grabbed the door knob. It opened with a single twist.

  “MRS. FREDRICKS!”

  Spencer dashed inside and into the next room looking for the old woman. She was nowhere to be seen. Passing the living room he heard faint white noise.

  The television in the front room was on; static covered the screen, a televised white out. A lavender floral pattern dress and a lilac colored sweater were tossed on the back of the couch and a steaming cup of coffee sat on the end table.

  Spencer stood in the living room entry in shock. There was nothing more he could do. Eunice had been taken. No sign of struggle, no sign of anything wrong. Just like the others that disappeared a few days ago. Rapture? Spencer headed for the front door. Everybody he knew was dead or mysteriously vanished. He hoped to his core those that vanished were looking down on him from heaven.

  Sitting in the driver’s seat of his GTO he started the engine and peeled out. There was no way of knowing how long the chaos would last, or how far it had spread. He had to leave Newark behind. Leaving alone was no longer a choice; it was his only option. Alone again.

  The evacuation order from the radio played back in Spencer’s head as a plan formed, a plan on the best way to flee the city. He would stick to the back roads as long as he could, then find his way to Miami, and maybe catch a boat to Mexico or Cuba. From there it was all up in the air, he would figure it out later.

  Spencer nervously checked his Glock and racked a round into the chamber. If anybody was going to try to take his car, they would be facing a nine millimeter round. He backed out of the driveway and headed south, clearing the city limits after three slow miles of traffic going all ways. The radio had been emitting loud

  background noise over a looping emergency message similar to the one broadcast from television; it abruptly fell silent. Spencer could only guess what just happened. For all he knew a quarter of a million people had just been killed. As he crossed the border into Maryland, the radio squawked to life causing him to jump out of his skin.

  “…approach Washington, I repeat, do not approach Washington, D.C. A phenomenon similar to the one reported in New York has been spotted there, and the city is now being

  evacuated.” The transmission went silent, but repeated several minutes later.

  Spencer’s plan to flee the country was in shambles and now he needed a new one. Fast. Perhaps he would go around D.C. and continue to Miami. Time was short, so he weighed the risk of getting to Miami too slowly over not getting there at all. Finally, he decided it was something he had to risk.

  I-83 was oddly vacant and free of congestion. It took him close to Baltimore, where he connected up with I-695 to circumvent the major city traffic. Then he worked his way through the spider web of highways, leaving D.C. a distant speck in his rearview mirror as he traveled down I-95.

  Spencer contemplated stopping for a nap and coffee if it was available. So he pulled off of I-95 into a small town called Falmouth, where he found a gas station where three cars were parked. He heard the engines running and could see exhaust coming from the tailpipes. No one was in them or near them; no one was pumping gas. One had its door wide open. There were no lights on anywhere. Each vehicle was obviously

  abandoned.

  Spencer headed into the gas station to see if he could snag some coffee and maybe a sugary snack. At least the sun was shining, and he could clearly see the entire store. A bell sat on the counter. He pressed the button to call an attendant from the back room, but nobody came. He rang the bell once more, but still nobody came.

  Terror shot through him when snorting came from the back room. It was abrupt and chilling and Spencer was torn between running and investigating.

  “Hello?” Spencer meekly asked.

  The snort turned to a growl as a shadow appeared on the floor just inside the threshold to the back room. He looked back up and the shock almost caused his legs to buckle as he saw a creature that headed toward the door to the back room. It looked sickly and other-worldly, much like the creatures the probe discovered in the vortex. Spencer’s heart began pumping adrenaline through his body. He no longer needed coffee; he needed to get the hell out of there!

  Spencer cleared the door as the creature stood erect and stretched its wings. Spencer reached his car at a dead run. He stopped momentarily when he noticed that the passenger side window on one of the cars was shattered. Blood was spattered on the inside of the windshield he quickly noted. Like a sick paintball game.

  Curiosity got the best of him. Spencer cautiously he approached the car. He shot a quick look over his shoulder; the creature was still in the back part of the store, growling and snuffling around. He moved up to the car. A woman was sitting inside. Her chest had been torn open, her mouth gaped open in terror and the inside of the car looked like it had been painted with blood. Spencer backed away. He turned toward his car, and as he did, he caught a glimpse of a terrifying creature in the side mirror of the car nearest him that looked like a demonic frog with long horns.

  Spencer bolted and frantically jumped leapt into his car whipping the door shut so fast he almost caught his foot. Just as the door clunked shut, the winged demon burst through the window of the gas station. Spencer jammed the key into the ignition, started the car, slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, and took to the street as the demon took flight, shrieking as it flew, hell bent on ending Spencer’s life.

  As Spencer headed back for the interstate, he dialed 911, but the only response was a recorded message indicating the circuits were jammed. He tried again. The same message replayed. After a third time, Spencer threw his phone into the passenger seat; he wasn’t surprised the 911 system was down, he had just hoped civilization was still functioning.

  What’s going on? He thought a panic.

  The vehicle jolted as the airborne demon slammed into the side of the car. Spencer drew his Glock and fired several times at the demon’s head. The demon jerked in mid-flight, took another few flaps of the skin-covered wings and hit the ground rolling. Struggling to rise, it roared. The car didn’t slow down as it left the creature writhing on the ground in the rearview mirror.

  Several hours later Spencer saw a sign welcoming him across the North Carolina border. He was still rattled from the gas station

  experience in Falmouth, but managed to focus on his new plan. He turned the radio up to see if there was any good news, or any news at all. Instead, he found a radio station that was announcing more evacuations, and more portals in all major cities. Are we under attack? How far has this spread?

  As Spencer drew near to Fayetteville, North Carolina, hunger finally broke through his fear and his stomach insisted on food. So, having no other current options, he pulled off the interstate into the nearest town of Dunn, North Carolina. It was a small town and it seemed to be split into two smaller parts by just one main road.

  The town seemed quiet; a little too quiet. The sun was going down, so Spencer figured he might as well find some place to eat and spend the night. Here was as good as anywhere else.

  Before looking for a roadside motel, he took stock of what he had in his trunk: fifteen twenty-ounce bottles of water, two boxes of energy bars, and a dozen MRE’s that he had unceremoniously dumped into his car before leaving his New Jersey home. This isn’t going to get me very far; I’ll have to find more, he thought bitterly.

  Suddenly a twig snapped, causing Spencer to draw his Glock and whirl around toward the source of the noise. He could hear something growling and hoped it was just a stray dog. Anything was better than the creatures he had encountered at the gas station. He was on edge, and his nerves felt like they channeled an electric current.

  “Who’s out there?” Spencer called just to feel safe.

  However, there was no re
ply and no further noise. Spencer wanted to keep moving, but he had been on the road since that afternoon, and the sun was sinking fast. He was also exhausted mentally from the entire world view shift he was being forced to make. Knowing it could be dangerous leaving his supplies

  unprotected - anybody passing through would probably try to take them - he was going to have to be careful about where he selected to spend the night. It had to be safe and hidden. He wasn’t sure how far the incursion or invasion had spread. He knew there were creatures in New York and in no less than a dozen major cities around the world, and most likely in the nation’s capital as well.

  Is the same thing happening in Miami? Am I wasting my time going there? Spencer wiped the sweat from his brow. “Okay, Spence, focus,” he admonished himself. “Worrying about it will just lead to second guessing yourself.”

  His eyes were drawn to a motel spruced up with foliage in a cluster off I-95. He hid his car around the back of the long building and between more bushes and the garbage bins. If anyone wants to loot now, the last place they will go is the garbage with so many people just gone and places left with no one watching out for them.

  Walking into the lobby, he was not expecting to find anybody. The first glance around almost caused him to retreat from the motel. There were no less than four bodies and each had been dismembered. Blood stained the walls and the floor. The most alarming fact was their clothing. The bodies were dressed in full combat fatigues; the military had obviously staged a futile defense. Slowly he looked around and behind and realized that there were at least two dozen bodies and body parts littering the parking lot and the surrounding landscape. Spencer tried to resist the urge to vomit. Turning away from the carnage, he leaned against the wall so as to not focus on the horrific scene all around him, but it was no use. Spencer doubled over and gave up whatever remained in his stomach.

  Time eked by and Spencer became calm enough to re-enter the lobby. The bodies still had some color, but not much, which indicated they had been recently slain. Spencer felt the urge to flee again, but managed to hold his composure. Kneeling down he put the back of his hand to a lifeless carcass to try to determine how long it had been dead. It was still warm; rigor mortis had not yet set in. Nausea raced through Spencer’s stomach again and bile crept up his throat. He had never encountered a dead body before this horrible day except in a clean and controlled funeral parlor.