Extinction: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel (Hell on Earth Book 3)

by Iain Rob Wright

  “Are you okay?” Corporal Martin asked Guy, but looked like he already knew the answer.

  Guy's head dropped, too heavy to lift any longer. His strength faded rapidly, and he felt sleepy. “I... need... Alice...”

  His eyes closed, and it was too hard to open them again.

  32

  VAMPS

  Vamps hadn’t felt afraid for a while. That emotion had calloused over when his first friends died—Ginger and Ravi—and had all but evaporated after Max and Marcy. Losing so many people had broken something in him. He was no longer afraid to die, because it felt like he deserved it. Every minute he stayed alive was borrowed time. The more demons he killed before he met his maker, the cleaner his soul would be. That's why he was so determined to take out as many as he could.

  He had meant it when he'd said he would go through the gate, and give his life to close it, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He had killed an angel before, so maybe he could kill this one too. It was taller than any he had seen, and so far, Mass and Aymun’s attempts to hurt it with gunfire had failed. Maybe his sword would be enough. It certainly worked on the demons.

  Killing them was almost getting too easy.

  Mass backed off from the fight, panting. “This shit is wearing me out, man.”

  “You’re too big, man. Fewer reps and more running, yo. Look at Aymun.”

  Aymun was running circles around the angel, dodging all attempts to stamp him out. His dress flapped and whirled around him almost majestically.

  “Take care of any demons, Mass. I’m going after the big guy.”

  “Be careful.”

  “You know me.”

  Mass frowned. “Better than anyone.”

  Vamps rushed the angel, taking advantage of the fact Aymun was still distracting it. There was no way to reach its neck, thirty-feet up, so he aimed for more accessible meat. He loosed a running swing, arcing his sword like a golf club, and struck the angel's left ankle. It rebounded so hard it flew right out of Vamps’ hand. “Damn it!”

  The angel roared, then spun around to face Vamps.

  The sword had done nothing. Not even a scratch.

  Vamps’ leapt aside as a giant foot tried to stomp him to dust. He landed badly on his heel and ended up crawling to safety. Mass came to his aid and dragged him away. “It’s no use. We can’t hurt it.”

  Vamps nodded, and then saw someone stagger towards him. At first, he thought it was a demon, but then he saw it was the man who had been injured when they arrived. He had a sharp bone sticking out of his chest, but looked like he had already died weeks ago and had been rotting ever since.

  “Hey, man, I thought you were a goner.”

  “You should maybe remove that,” said Mass, pointing to the bone sticking out of his chest.

  “My name is Rick, and I need you to get me in front of that gate. I think I can close it.”

  Vamps looked back at the angel. It was coming towards them. He didn’t understand what the guy was planning to do, but nobody else was coming up with any ideas. So he grabbed Rick and dragged him towards the gate. They moved in a small group, Rick a dead weight between them. Aymun saw they were in danger, and tried to distract the angel again, but it was no use. They would have to move fast.

  “Get to the gate,” said Mass, letting go of Rick and stepping away.

  Vamps groaned with the extra weight. “Mass! What are you doing, bro?”

  Mass stood his ground in front of the angel, buying them some time. For a moment, Vamps didn’t know what to do. His best friend was throwing himself in the way of a stampeding angel, but if he didn’t get Rick to the gate now, the guy might not make it. “Fuck it,” he said. “Come on, Rick. Pick up the pace.”

  Rick moaned in agony, but he did move faster. They were almost at the gate.

  But someone else had made it there first.

  Rick gasped and almost fell to his knees. Vamps had to fight to keep him standing. “Keith, what are you doing?”

  The man in front of the gate didn't look at Rick. He looked at Vamps. “They’re really gone? Both of them?”

  Vamps realised he was talking about Max and Marcy. “I’m sorry. Max was a great kid, but I couldn’t save him... or his mum. I-I’m so sorry.”

  Max's father had tears streaming down his cheeks, but he gave a little smile. “It’s okay. I’m glad someone was looking out for them at the end. It should have been me, and that's not your fault. Thank you.”

  “Yeah, bro, no problem. We can talk about it later…”

  Rick pushed away from Vamps, standing under his own strength. “Keith, get away from that gate.”

  He shook his head and took a step backwards even closer to the gate. It pulsed and shimmered two feet away from him. “I love you, brother. I was always jealous of you, but I’m proud now, and I hope that counts. See you in the next life.”

  With that, and before anyone could stop him, Keith stepped back casually into the gate.

  “Get down!” Rick shouted.

  Vamps threw himself away from the gate. Mass was on the ground too, about to get crushed by the angel that had him pinned. Vamps reached out towards him and yelled, but there was nothing he could do. “Mass!”

  Rick dove on top of Vamps and then threw his arms up towards the angel about to kill Mass. A massive, twisting streak of light shot forth from his fingertips and struck the angel fully in the chest. The impact launched him high into the air.

  Then the gate exploded and filled the air with deafening screams from another world.

  33

  VAMPS

  Vamps spat dirt and tried to see past the dust in his eyes. The ground shook beneath his fingertips, but the energy was fading. All was silent, except the sound of rushing wind returning to fill the void left by the exploding gate. When he dared to take a glance, he saw only a sunken divot in the earth, twenty-metres wide. His feet lay only centimetres from the crater’s edge. If he had been standing inside the blast radius, he felt sure he would be in pieces right now.

  Rick sat in the grass nearby. He had his head in his hands and was muttering to himself. “Keith! Keith, you idiot. I could have closed it. You didn't have to do that.”

  Vamps crawled on his belly over to Rick and noticed the change right away: the sharp bone no longer jutted from his chest and he looked healthy. “Rick! You’re better.”

  Rick examined himself and saw that his skin was no longer pallid or bleeding. He nodded slightly as if the change was of little interest to him. “I got caught in the blast,” he said. “I absorbed some of its energy. God’s life force powers the gates. They were formed from the seals He placed between realities to protect us. It must have healed me.”

  Vamps was too confused to respond—not just confused by the man’s words, but by the fact his brain had been shaken around in his skull like a marble.

  They had done it.

  Actually, Keith and Rick had done it. Had that dude really been Max’s father? Vamps’ failure to protect his family had led to him killing himself. More blood on Vamp’s soul. “Keith killed himself because I let his family die.”

  “He was my brother, but no, he didn’t blame you. He blamed himself. Trust me, he failed his family long before they ever met you. What he did was an attempt to make it up to them, to be the good man in the end.”

  “He succeeded,” said Vamps.

  Rick nodded. “Yes, he did.”

  “YOU MAGGOTS! I AM ANDRAS, MARQUIS OF HELL, THE DISCORDANT. BOW DOWN NOW, AND I WILL END YOUR WORTHLESS LIVES QUICKLY.”

  The angel stomped towards them, having recovered from the blast Rick had hit him with. Vamps stood up and clenched his fists. “Eat shit motherfucker. Your gate is dust.”

  Rick clambered to his feet beside him and shouted up at the great beast too. It was absurd, like two ants heckling a brown bear. “You will not win this war. There are others in Hell who oppose you. I see your fear. This close, I can see how unsure you are. You thought wiping out humanity would be easy, but
you have discovered strength and defiance where you thought none existed.”

  The angel strode forward, crushing human corpses beneath his feet. The demons’ bodies had all vanished. “I SHALL ENSNARE YOUR SOUL IN THE GREATEST OF HELLS. I SHALL PRESENT YOU TO THE RED LORD AS AN OFFERING. YOU HOLD THE POWER OF DANIEL, AND FOR THIS, THE FALLEN BROTHER WILL BE PUNISHED.”

  Vamps shook his head. More talk of Daniel? Who the Hell is that guy?

  Rick threw up his hands, but this time nothing came out of his fingertips.

  Andras cackled. “DANIEL’S POWERS MAY ONLY COME TO THE SURFACE AS YOUR HUMAN VESSEL BREAKS DOWN. YOU ARE FULLY HEALED, AND SO YOUR POWERS ARE NULL. YOUR FLESH BETRAYS YOU, HUMAN.”

  Rick glanced at Vamps. “You might want to run now.”

  Andras stomped towards them, massive hands clenched.

  Vamps tried to flee, but he was battered and bruised. His skeleton felt like mushy peas. “I can’t run anymore, man. I’m done.”

  “Then it was nice knowing you. Wish I could have asked you about that flaming sword of yours.”

  “Let me know if you see it. Could use it right about now.”

  “I have it right here, bro!” Mass rushed up on the angel’s left flank. He held Vamps’ sword, but it wasn't aflame. Even so, he lifted it behind his head and then heaved it forwards with all of his massive strength. It sliced the air like a javelin and pierced Andras, the Marquis of Hell, right in his perfectly chiselled chest.

  Then the sword ignited.

  Flames erupted from the silvery shaft and covered every patch of skin on Andras’s body. Within seconds, he became a massive, thirty-foot fireball. As he flapped about, screaming like a thousand babies, his angelic body began to disintegrate like a burning paperback. Scraps of black flesh turned to ash and flew away in the wind. Piece by piece, Andras disappeared.

  It was over.

  The flaming sword fell to earth, once again standing upright with its pommel in the air.

  Vamps really loved that sword.

  “The rest is down to you, Wickstaff,” said Rick, a grim smile on his face.

  34

  GENERAL WICKSTAFF

  Wickstaff was walking, but she sported a limp. Each step drove a spike of agony into her hip, but she strode with determination alongside Maddy. She asked a question. “I wouldn’t be mistaken in thinking the entire earth just shook, would I?”

  Maddy shook her head. “That was one heck of an earthquake. You think Rick came through for us?”

  “I say we find out. Still have your radio?” Maddy handed it over right away, and Wickstaff put through the call. “I want all birds up in the air. Target is Prime 1. Keep me posted.”

  “Roger that,” came a haughty voice at the other end.

  Now all there was to do was wait. Wickstaff watched the darkening sky, certain she had seen a bright flash moments before the last embers of daylight had disappeared. The rain was stopping, too, and she hoped it was a good omen. Inside, she felt something she thought she’d lost—hope.

  Maddy had her arms folded, chewing her lip. Wickstaff reached out to her. “I’m sure Rick is fine.”

  Diane came over to join them. “The ships are filling up slowly, and our defences are falling. It’s not good.”

  Wickstaff had known there would be victims of retreat. Someone had to hold the line while others fled. Was it time to order a full retreat and let people take their chances, or did she tell those remaining men to keep holding until the death? She got on the radio again. “Rear Guard, I need you to hold for five more minutes. Just give me that long.”

  There was no reply. Anyone left was too busy fighting to talk. Gunfire continued to echo, but it was quickly diminishing as the enemy broke through.

  The radio screeched to life in her hand. “Air Squadron One, about to engage.”

  “Roger that.”

  The three women stood in a huddle, war going on all around them, and waited. First, they heard the whooshing noise—the sound of rockets leaving canisters. Then they heard the insane chatter of cyclical machine guns. Eight attack choppers were unleashing Hell.

  Let's hope it makes a dent.

  “Prime 1 is down. Repeat Prime 1 is roasting on an open fire.”

  Wickstaff felt her eyelids stretch wide, and she stared at Maddy as she spoke into the radio. “Can you repeat that one more time for me, please?”

  “Happily. The big bastard is on the ground and bleeding. He’s dead. Lord Amon is dead. I fired a hellfire into his smug face myself.”

  Wickstaff was beaming. “Roger that, and God bless you!”

  Wickstaff ended the call. For a few moments, she just stood there in dumb silence. Maddy and Diane did the same. Eventually she lifted the radio and gave a new order. “Men and women of Portsmouth, on ship or on land, Prime 1 is eliminated. Pick up your weapons and fight. Find the nearest enemy, and kill it. Today is the day we earn our survival. Today is the day we prove humanity deserves custody of the earth. We will win this day, and through victory we shall renew our future. We have come together from many places, and speak several tongues, but fight now beneath a new banner. Fight for humanity.”

  Wickstaff gave more orders in quick succession, the last being to her naval artillery. “Flatten the city, chaps. I want nothing left beyond the docks.”

  And so, the night sky lit with fireworks and shooting stars, plummeting towards the city that had kept humanity safe for so long. Buildings toppled, petrol stations exploded, and on the docks of Portsmouth, men and women spilled back off the boats to reengage the enemy. Wickstaff stood amongst it all, firing a pistol with a dodgy hip, a smile on her face because, live or die, humanity was standing up for itself. And she was the woman in charge.

  35

  VAMPS

  As the sun rose, bringing with it dawn, the dirty white van snaked through the ruins of an ancient city. Portsmouth was gone, a flaming crater blighting the land.

  “This shit is bad,” said Vamps, sitting up front with Mass and Corporal Martin, the driver. The others huddled in the back, a mixture of wounded and shell-shocked. Aymun was tending to them as best he could, but he was no doctor. Their victory at the gate had been costly, but it paled in comparison to what they saw now. A large, spiny tower deep in the city rose out of the ruins, but its top had been lopped off by the fighting. A thousand fires blazed, and the roads choked up with bricks and blood. Several times they had to stop to clear a path, and when they finally made it to the gates outside the docks, a pile of corpses met them.

  Vamps felt sick and knew Mass felt the same because he covered his mouth. The two of them looked at each other and then embraced with tears in their eyes. Was it all over? Had anything survived?

  “Hold on,” said Corporal Martin at the wheel. “It’s going to get bumpy.”

  And bumpy it got as the van’s large tyres crushed human and demon viscera like they were off-roading through Hell. Vamp’s sword lay across the dashboard, and it rattled and sparked now as if woken from sleep. Sickening crunches accompanied every second of their harrowing journey, and it seemed to go on forever. Then, just when it appeared the van might die on them and maroon them amongst the death, the vehicle lurched forward and found solid earth again. They picked up speed and headed for the docks. Here, the various buildings were still intact and nothing was burning.

  Corporal Martin stopped the van outside the Port Authority building, which itself lay next to a large open space. He turned off the engine, and the three of them up front disembarked. The air felt hot—the heat of so many fires blazing behind them. The water beyond the docks laid still, a hundred hulking vessels unmoving. Where were all the people?

  A middle-aged woman appeared, flanked by two younger ladies.

  “Who are you?” said the older woman in a plummy accent that Vamps would've hated in a past life. Now, such things didn't matter.

  Corporal Martin stepped forward. “Are you… Are you General Wickstaff?”

  “I am.”

  “It's so good
to put a face to the name. I’m Corporal Martin.”

  The woman beamed and rushed forward. She gave Corporal Martin a great big hug and then winced in pain. “Forgive me, I’m a tad sore. It’s wonderful to meet you at last. You must have survived an awful lot getting here?”

  “We have others with us,” he said, ignoring the question that would take too long to answer.

  One of the younger women, a brunette, lit up at the mention of that. “Is Rick with you?”

  “Yes. Let me take you to him,” said Corporal Martin, a smile on his face.

  And so they moved to the back of the banged-up van. Mass grabbed the door latch and yanked it open. Rick was already on his feet, and when he saw the brunette, he leapt out and hugged her. “Told you I’d be back.”

  “Rick! You… you look…”

  “Great, I know! It’s just a reprieve, but it's good to feel good.”

  “I never thought I'd see you again.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” said the third lady, the youngest of the three, and blonde. Still a girl, really.

  Rick smiled and gathered the blonde into a three-way hug with the brunette. Vamps chuckled—a real lady's man.

  “You closed the gate,” said Wickstaff to Rick. “Amazing.”

  Rick broke away from his group hug and shook his head. “No, it was my brother, Keith. These guys took down an angel though. May I introduce Vamps, Mass, and Aymun.”

  “Taking down the angel was all him,” said Vamps, pointing to Mass who immediately blushed.

  Wickstaff folded her arms and whistled. “I took one down, too, but it took eight attack helicopters to do it. Well done, you.”

  Mass tried to make eye contact, but ended up staring sheepishly at the floor. “Thank you, General. It was my pleasure.”

  Vamps nudged his embarrassed friend and laughed.

  “We have casualties,” said Corporal Martin, turning serious. “Do we have anyone left to see to them?”