by Stuart Slade
kitten was silent for a moment, then said, Understood. So that makes nine of you?
Correct.
The people here are curious: how is it that you knew the people you were rescuing were U.S. military?
McElroy laughed out loud. I didn’t. I just hung by the same stretch of river that I was in. It’s like they’re stacking us up like cordwood; the more recently you die, the further downriver you are. Or, at least, that’s what the baldricks in this particular region are doing. That’s why I was surprised when Ori showed up; he told me that he’d been flailing around blindly in the river for a very long time, so I guess he managed to swim a good distance away from where he was put in.
And how are you communicating with him? Does one of you speak Japanese?
McElroy shook his head, before realizing the idiocy of such a motion. This telepathy stuff sure did mess with your mind. Nope. We just talk. He seems to understand us. When he talks, we understand him. It’s like with the baldricks. When they speak, we understand what they’re saying, right? But how could they tell, just from looking at us, what language to speak? There’s somethin’ funky goin’ on here, kitten. I wish I could tell you more, but I’m just a Tennessee hillbilly at heart. I mighta gone to college, but I got a liberal arts degree, for G–for Asshole’s sake. Pardon my language.
McElroy could actually hear kitten’s laugh in his mind. It felt like someone had tickled his brain. Well, another item on a long list of things we’ll investigate.
Alright, kitten. I guess that brings us to our final item: resupply.
There was silence in McElroy’s head; like someone had left the mic depressed by accident and was flooding the two-way with dead air. Finally, kitten said, You won’t be being resupplied for at least four weeks.
You’re shitting me. McElroy would’ve kept the anger out of his tone, as well as any vulgarities, were he speaking, but he couldn’t conceal it within his mind. Four weeks? How am I supposed to continue operations here? What’s the holdup?
I am, kitten replied. I’m the only one who can do this, and opening a portal causes me great pain, and I simply can’t take supplying seven separate cells all at once. I’m sorry, Corporal.
McElroy cringed. Oh, kitten, I’m, uh, no. No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… please forgive me, it’s real crappy of me to blame you. Look, we owe you everything—we all owe you everything, and nobody ever thought what it must be costing you! My daddy would whale the tar out of me if he knew what I’d just said. Please, accept my apology.
I accept, Corporal. I would’ve told you earlier, but, well, it shames me that I can’t push myself harder to keep you all supplied. It’s just…it hurts a great deal…
McElroy blinked back tears. I won’t hear none of that! We’re all managing as best we can, and I cannot bear the thought of you suffering on my account. We’ll get by just fine. And you tell the brass that I want my next allocated portal window to go unused, so that you might have a respite.
Thank you, Corporal. McElroy could hear that kitten was flattered. But it is matter of personal pride that I work as hard as I can. I’ve been able to see into Hell for a long time. I know what goes on there. I want to do everything I can to end that evil.
Well, fair enough, kitten.
So, as a final matter, what is your current armament?
Well, we got a mess of tridents from the baldricks. All different designs. I photographed each, so you’ll be able to study them in further detail later. Oh, when you do get a portal to us next, can you send a sword for Ori. He doesn’t approve of guns. Talking of which, we got the one rifle, twenty total rounds left. Nine are reserved.
Reserved for what?
One for each of us. If things go south, I’m not going back to that river. None of us are. We’ll take our chances with oblivion…or super-Hell, if that’s what’s next.
kitten was silent for a moment. Understood, Corporal. I’ll do my best to get you fresh supplies in four weeks’ time. In the mean time, we’ll continue with our scheduled briefings.
Acknowledged, kitten. Thank you for everything. Be well, we’ll speak next week.
Thank you, Corporal.
McElroy closed the lid of the laptop and sighed. “Four weeks, guys. Can’t use the rifle anymore, except in emergencies. Looks like we’re going to be strictly recon for a while.”
The others gathered around him in the cave groaned. “Look,” he continued. “They got this poor…girl doing all this shit on her own. It damn near kills her when she opens a portal, even for a few seconds. I ain’t gonna ask her to go through that. Are you? Look, it’ll get better soon, I’m sure. If one person on Earth can do it, I’m sure others can. It’ll just take time to find ‘em and train ‘em.”
“Got another one!” Private Tom Walsch said from the mouth of the cave. Holding the rifle in one hand and a charred human in the other, he and Corporal Juan Menendez dragged the half-sensate creature into the cavern and dumped it onto the floor.
They were all used to this by now, and McElroy took point. He kneeled down next to the trembling figure and asked, “Name, rank?”
“Puh-puh-private Joanna Cassidy, USMC,” the figure croaked.
“Huh, first marine! Well, Private Cassidy. You’re among humans, among friends. We’re part of the resistance here in Hell. You feel like kicking some baldrick ass?”
Cassidy opened her eyes, revealing half-formed, half-seeing blobs of pigment and ichor. “You bet your ass I do.”
This was met with a chorus of approval by the assembled people, even Ori. “Alright, Private,” McElroy continued. “Take a breather, grow back your skin.” He looked up. “DeVanzo, grab a couple tridents. I knew there was a good reason to collect those things. I want to check out what’s beyond the north ridge.”
Before he left, he set a rifle round aside with the other nine.
Chapter Forty One
Randi Institute of Pneumatology, the Pentagon, Arlington, VA
“I guess it’ll be a relief dealing with normal people after having that sick freak around.” There was a stir of anger in the room, kitten’s boyfriend had started to get up but she put her hand on his and stopped him. It was a gesture that did not go unnoticed by most of the people in the room. Martin Chestnut was one who didn’t, he looked around smugly, the angry reaction to the insult aimed at kitten amused and satisfied him. Another thing he didn’t notice was two of the Special Forces troopers exchanging significant glances, they knew what kitten had gone through to keep the link to the teams in Hell open. Chestnut had just scheduled himself for an old military custom, a blanket party, at the first available opportunity.
James Randi cast a very sharp look at Chestnut, he’d spent his life exposing frauds and imposters and he was convinced Chestnut was one although in what sense he wasn’t quite sure yet. There was no doubt in Randi’s mind that the man had skills though, he’d made everybody in the room hate him. Randi had caught a whispered comment from a visiting Marine, something about Chestnut being a candidate for wall-to-wall counseling. Still, business first.
“We have to evaluate your ability to open a link before we can take this matter any further. We have several people now who can speak to various people in Hell, but so far kitten is the only person we have found who can sustain a link and open a portal. She’s worked very hard for the last few weeks and she needs a break. So, we are going to try and open a portal to a team we have on the Seventh Circle, they are desperately short of ammunition and need resupply urgently. So, kitten’s going to talk to them and they we’ll see if you can open a portal.”
“Just keep that pervert away from me.” The Marine and the Special Forces troopers exchanged glances, the blanket party attendance had just grown. On one of the seats, kitten relaxed and opened her mind up.
Tucker? Are you there? Can you speak?
Hey kitten, sure can. We’re having a rest, we’ve just got a new member here. Private Joanna Cassidy, USMC. He rattled the serial number off. She’s in a bad way but sh
e’ll mend, physically anyway.
“Got her, Marine Private Cassidy. Killed in a humvee wreck about six months ago, in Iraq.” The Marine had typed the number into a notepad and the answer was immediate.
Confirmed Tucker. Now, we’re going to try something. We’ve got another guy here who can contact Hell so we’re going to see if he can open a portal. If he can, we’ll be able to get you some stuff, we have a sword for Ori, one he’ll like we think. Its called a Katana, it’s a gift from the Japanese Government. A swordmaster over there made it from modern steel. We have more ammunition and some semtex for you.
That’s fabulous kitten, sure you’re not going to get hurt for this?
Quite sure, I’m not going to hurt. At the other end, Tucker noticed the satisfaction in her thoughts and wondered what was going on back there.
“Link’s set up. Martin, please make the portal.”
“Its Mister Chestnut to you.” He relaxed on the couch and had the wiring set up around him. Meanwhile kitten disconnected and isolated herself from the system. Behind the control bank, the operator started running the power up to portal threshold. Chestnut started writhing and moaning on the couch. “Shit, this hurts, you never told me it would hurt like this.”
Then, the black ellipse started to form in the room and Chestnut’s wailing reached a new level. The sword was the first thing to get thrown through, followed by some packs of Semtex and boxes of rifle ammunition. Then, the ellipse slammed down.
kitten grabbed her headset and pushed through a contact. Tucker, did you get anything?
Yeah, thanks, the sword’s here and we got a box of ammo and five of Semtex. Guess your guy wasn’t too hot huh?
Very noisy. Bye Tucker, talk to you soon.
Bye Kitten
“They got a little stuff, the sword, 5 kilos of Semtex and 250 rounds of ammunition.” kitten relaxed a little.
“And that’s all anybody will get until you agree to my terms.” Chestnut had a predatory grin on his face.
“What terms?” Randi spoke cautiously.
“I want a million a year retainer. A hundred thou bonus every time I have to open a portal up for you. You’ll buy an apartment for me wherever I choose to live and I want a Ferrari. I’ll tell you which kind later.”
“That all?” Randi was beginning to lose his temper.
“No, but I’ll add the rest later. You might as well agree now though, you haven’t got any choice.”
“Actually we do.” The voice from the door was contralto and silky. For those who knew the General, this meant trouble was coming for somebody. Nobody had ever heard her swear, she’d never had to. “We have three more candidates coming in today. An Indian and a Chinese lady and a Chinese man. All have passed the initial tests you laid down James, they’re looking very good. The Indian Lady speaks very good English so I’m told, she worked in a bank customer service center before she went mad.” The General was staring at Chestnut expressionlessly. It occurred to Randi that the lack of feeling was more terrifying than any display of dislike could have been. “General Schatten? A useful recruit this one? For the field test?”
“Yes indeed Ma’am. Mister Chestnut.” Schatten loaded the ‘Mister’ with irony. “Here’s our counter-offer. We give you a nice green suit with a red-brown one for work-wear. We will pay you one thousand two hundred and forty five dollars and ninety cents per month, before deductions. We’ll also provide you with a comfortable pair of boots for walking around in. They may even fit. We’ll even feed you and give you a bed to sleep in.”
“Forget it. No way.”
“You don’t have any choice, Private Chestnut. You’re in the Army now. We have reinstated the draft you know.” Schatten’s voice was richly amused by the sudden change on the man’s face.
“You can’t make me do the portal thing. Or anything else. And I won’t. Not unless I get my money.”
“It’s Sir to you. No, we can’t. But I must advise you that you’re being assigned to a field test program. We know that sensitives can contact Hell, but what happens if we put a sensitive in hell and try to contact out? We need to know that but kitten was much, much too valuable to use that way. Still is. But you’re not. So, we’re assigning you to Camp Hell-Alpha and you’ll stay there until the program is complete. Of course, if you don’t cooperate that may take a very long time. You two.” Schatten gestured at the two Special Forces men. “Take Private Chestnut away and show him how the Army works.”
“It’ll be a pleasure Sir.”
“I thought it might be.” The two Special Forces men led Chestnut out and closed the door behind them. A few seconds later there was a muffled thud and the door shook, followed by an apologetic “oops”. The Marine in the room suddenly developed a satisfied expression in his face,
Major General Asanee had sat down beside kitten. “How are you doing?”
“Well, thank you ma’am.”
“Good, for I have some news for you. If our three new recruits work out a bit better than Mis…. than Private Chestnut…. did, you’ll get some leave soon. My Learjet is waiting to take you to Bangkok for your operation, as I promised, my government will pay the account. Until then, I’d like you to meet somebody, one who has already been through the procedure. She’ll tell you what to expect and how to do things afterwards. She’s waiting outside, as soon as you’re done here, you two can get together.”
Deep Tunnel Stygia (‘The Slime Pit’), Shaft 14, Slocum Mine, Tartarus
Captain James Shanklin stood knee-deep in the stagnant water, listlessly hacking away at an exposed copper vein. It had been something like a century now that he’d been in this literally God-forsaken place, give or take a decade. It was all so unfair. Hadn’t he died for King and Country, like you were supposed to? He’d gone to church… mostly. He’d been a faithful husband… almost. There had been that one time, a year before the German shell ended his life, just after that fresh-faced young private had joined the squad. In the earthly hell of the Somme they all thought they had only weeks to live, surely God could forgive a man for seeking whatever companionship and release he could under such conditions?
It would seem that God could not. James dimly recalled spending decades in an empty wasteland scoured by a constant terrible storm, wandering without ever finding rest or shelter. Then he was brought here, seemingly to mine copper for all eternity. The last few months had been particularly intolerable. He was sure that other prisoners were stealing ore from his crates when he wasn’t looking, because he’d been sentenced to work in the slime pit almost every week. Worst of all, the pointless riots meant that all the humans were now kept chained up at all times. The corroded bronze manacle had already rubbed his ankle raw. The formerly lax demon supervisors seemed to have found a new motivation for their calling, as they were more eager than ever to apply their whips.
The rumors had been going around the mine since the demons had first questioned them about human weapons. At first there was nothing but a welter of speculation, but as of late they had taken a decidedly grim turn. New workers were arriving, fresh from earth and bringing tales of their homes falling to an irresistible demonic onslaught. City after city was apparently being raped, pillaged and burned by the fiendish legions. Some refused to believe, harping on about inconsistencies in the stories, but James knew they were just grasping at straws. He had seen what being in the midst of brutal slaughter could do to the mind first hand, at Flanders and Neuve Chapelle; if anything the confused ranting of the new arrivals only confirmed the horror of what they had witnesses. In his mind all of humanity was clearly doomed to suffer, individually and collectively.
Into this uniformly depressing picture had come an unexpected ray of hope. At the start of this shift, they had been assembled in the loading area again and Medusa had a different message for them. Reading from a slate chalked with strange runes, she had implored the workers to reveal the location of the human arsenals. Only then would the demons be able to spare the remaining cities from total
destruction. Any human who helped make this possible would be rewarded with dominion over one of the surviving settlements, to rule it in Satan’s name for the rest of time.
For Captain Shanklin the struggle with his conscience had been a brief one. He had been loyal to the King and the Empire had sent him to a fair approximation of this place, rendered in stinking trenches and screaming shellfire, only to throw away his life fighting over a patch of worthless French mud. He had been faithful and his God had abandoned him. Even in this place, his fellow men seemed to wish him only further suffering. No, he no longer gave his loyalty to anyone but himself. James resolved to grasp this chance. He was already in hell, he could hardly damn himself a second time by supping with the devil. Besides, if the people of Sheffield saw sense and surrendered, perhaps he would be able to save his home from total destruction. What more noble deed could be expected of him?
A dull pounding echoed down the tunnel, muffled by the standing water. An overseer was coming; at regular intervals the hoof-beats paused and were replaced by screams as another miner was given a taste of the barbed whip. The pounding became splashing as the demon approached. James’ hands began to tremble as he waited for it to reach him, sweat beaded on his forehead as he prepared to betray everything he had ever known. At last the monstrous creature came into sight. The demon seemed to combine the worst features of a gorilla and a goat into a vast brutish humanoid. The sight of the human’s motionless pick had just registered on its face and it began to raise its great spiked lash.
“Wait!” shouted Captain Shanklin, “I can help! I can tell you where all the Empire’s steel comes from! I can lead you to the forges that make Britannia’s great guns and railways!”
The demon paused with whip raised, uncomprehending. James shouted desperately. “The weapons that are giving your armies pause! The metal they are made from, you call it ‘enchanted iron’. I can show you where most of it is made!”