Hope in Hell (An Adam and Eve Thriller Book 6)

by Mark Ayre

  Hope in Hell

  Mark Ayre

  The first six Adam and Eve thrillers are dedicated to my daughter, who turned one while I was writing them, and my wife, who did not.

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  To sign up for the Mark Ayre Reader’s Group and get your free copy of Hide and Seek, book one in a trilogy of gripping supernatural suspense novels, visit: markay.re/freehideandseek

  Contents

  By Mark Ayre

  Hope in Hell

  Grab Your Free Thriller Novel

  Author’s Note

  Have You Read?

  The Adam and Eve Thrillers

  The Hide and Seek Trilogy

  The James Perry Mysteries

  Standalone

  About the Author

  By Mark Ayre

  The Adam and Eve Thrillers:

  Fire and Smoke

  Lost and Found

  Cat and Mouse

  Lock and Key

  Cloak and Shield

  Hope in Hell

  The Adam and Eve boxset: All Six Thrillers

  The Hide and Seek Trilogy

  Hide and Seek

  Count to Ten

  Ready or Not (October 2020)

  The James Perry Mysteries

  The Black Sheep’s Shadow

  All Your Secrets

  Standalone

  Poor Choices

  Hope in Hell

  No matter how hard Isla had tried, via natural or unnatural means, she had never managed to tan. Always, her skin had been too pale; she had hated it. In the red room, as she grew weaker by the second, swayed but did not fall, it was almost translucent.

  How long had it been since Pandora, her daughter, had sliced Isla’s palm? For minutes or hours, the crack in the glowing red wall had been drawing her blood from the cut, through the air, before drinking it in. Over time, the crack had grown. From a couple of inches long, a couple of millimetres wide, it had stretched to over a foot long, several centimetres wide.

  And Isla could see through it, out of her world into a dimension of cruelty and mayhem.

  Unthinkable beings were gearing up, preparing to force their way through to Earth. They would arrive with bloodlust on their mind, a hunger for human flesh seven billion humans might be unable to sate.

  The end was coming; Pandora’s promised fall of humanity was almost here.

  It would be awful.

  The only consolation: Isla would not almost certainly not be alive to see it.

  Adam woke. Above him, a cold, grey ceiling. The room in which he lay was cool, quiet, like so many others in which he had slept over his near three decades of life.

  Addled, disoriented, at first he believed himself a child; felt sure he would roll over to see Eve sleeping nearby. His mother would be at the stove, making whatever passed for breakfast that morning. They would not ask each other how they had slept. The answers would be too depressing.

  For several seconds, his mind trapped him in the past. Then it began to fast forward. He saw escape after escape from the organisation; he watched his mother then Saskia die. He saw someone shoot his sister and he saw the monster, Lucy, beneath the face of the innocent Bethany. He saw the inside of the plush cell in which they had dropped him after his capture. He saw Saskia, who had visited him, told him how to escape. He saw himself walking through walls for the first time and making his way…

  Here.

  He sat up. He was as low as it was possible to go within the facility. He had come to save Saskia, but she had not wanted to leave. Without explaining herself, she had garbled about a red room which had produced Adam, Eve and several others who she described as his paternal siblings. She had called herself one such siblings. In the red room, she had said, a doorway to a hellish dimension would soon open. The only way to stop it was to kill one of the red room’s children.

  Saskia had said that child should be her. Adam was to do it.

  Save my mother. Kill me. Make it quick.

  Adam pushed himself to feet but rather than approaching the bed he stumbled from it, turning to the far wall and forcing his forehead against it, blinking away the tears. He did not understand. Did not want to understand. Why did anyone have to die? How could Saskia ask him to kill her without explaining what was happening, what this mysterious threat truly was?

  He would not do it.

  “I will not do it,” he moaned.

  Perhaps she was delusional. Perhaps years of captivity had sent her mad. It would be understandable, given all she must have suffered. Saskia did not need to die to save the world. She merely needed someone to save her.

  If there was a threat to humanity, Saskia could have given him something: some physical, quantifiable sign there was anything to the madness she spoke.

  Through the hall of the building rang a monstrous roar—something built of pure rage and destruction. Adam stared at the door, then turned to the bed.

  “Oh, you bitch.”

  Eve had cast her shield to defend against the gunfire of a hundred heavily armed agents. They had found it impenetrable. Many had died trying to breach the defence. Had they gone away and returned with ten times as many soldiers, Eve was confident they would still have failed.

  “Can you hold it?” Doc shouted.

  After watching their failure, Eve had been cocky. Perhaps the monster with a thousand limbs and two heads had been sent by some deity to humble her. If so, it was working.

  “What are we going to do?” wailed the teenager, who grew more hysterical by the second.

  “Stop asking questions,” Eve hissed.

  After slaughtering countless agents, the monster had thrown itself at Eve’s invisible barrier. Tentacles, legs and arms wrapped around the shield and squeezed. Head one gnashed at the boundary with rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth; the horn on head two sought to puncture her protection.

  Sweat drenched Eve’s brow. Her hands were out though her power came only from her mind. Psychologically, it helped to imagine she was physically holding the beast at bay.

  It was not working. With every passing second, the monster exerted more pressure. It was getting closer, pushing the barrier towards Eve and the eight people she was attempting to protect. Glancing overhead she saw limbs beginning to block the light of the bulbs overhead. Left and right, the beast spread further towards her back.

  Over her shoulder: a clear path to the corridor, which could lead to safety.

  To turn and run, Eve would have to release the shield. Before she could make a single step, the monster would devour her. Alternatively, she could put all her strength into using the protection as a catapult, firing the beast into the opposite wall before fleeing.

  Still, she would not escape. Quite aside from the fact that the exertion of firing the monster across the room would likely cause her to faint, it would only take it a second to rise. Three or four after that, it would have killed her and all of her companions.

  She glanced at her feet. Then there was Sandra. Her mother was unconscious and therefore, in no position to run.

  All options flashed through her mind. When it came to her survival, none were suitable.

  The monster’s heads were inches from her face; the horn was ready to pierce her eye and burst her brain. There was no more time to strategise.

  To no one in particular, she said, “When I say go, run for the corridor behind us. Try and find Adam, get him out, fast as you can.”

  “What about you?” said Doc.

  “I try to come, we all die,” she said. “I can hold this thing another minute or so, give you the chance to get out.”

  “We have too much to do,” said
Ursula. “It isn’t just your brother. There are two other red room children down here. A mother, too. We want to save them all.”

  “We may have to prioritise,” said Omi. “Hattie, Delilah, you run the moment Eve says.”

  Hattie was the wailing teenager, Delilah a child who looked no older than ten. She had to be a red room child.

  “You all have to go,” said Eve. “There’s no choice.”

  Graham, another red room product, growled. He wanted to stay by Eve’s side, to fight the beast. Eve knew even he, with his near impenetrable skin and incredible strength and speed, would likely not stand a chance against this creature.

  “I need you to go because I need you to carry my mother,” said Eve. “You’re the only one who can take her without slowing down.”

  “She doesn’t deserve to survive,” said Ursula.

  “Now is no time to argue,” said Eve. She met Graham’s eye. “Please. For me.”

  The monster pushed again. Eve almost fell, almost gave up the shield. Just about held it.

  “Come on,” she said. “All of you. It’s time to leave. On my mark.”

  “She’s right,” said Omi. “Get ready to run.”

  Eve still watched Graham; his head bowed, his eyes cast to the floor. When she refused to look away, he met her eye; nodded. Bending over, he swept Eve’s mother into his arms. This done, Eve returned her focus to the monster. She might only be able to hold another ten seconds.

  “Go.”

  As one, they ran. Sensing it might be about to lose its prey, the monster squeezed tighter than ever, but Eve held strong. She heard departing feet down the nearest corridor.

  Though she had told herself she would not, she could not help but glance over her shoulder, to see them escape.

  Instead, she saw eager tentacles move around the back of her. Those from the left met those from the right. They tangled in knots. Eve saw what the monster meant to do. Saw it was unpreventable.

  The monster squeezed. Eve felt the shield collapse inwards, ready to crush her bones.

  She screamed, like a mother in labour, pushing with all her might. Inches from her body in all directions, the shield held, but the beast had now surrounded her, encasing her in total darkness.

  With light went hope. Eve felt her strength fade and knew it was time to give in. With any luck, if she let go of the shield, the monster would shatter her bones, killing her instantly.

  As small mercies went, it was hardly something to look forward to.

  Adam stepped into the hall, keeping his hand on the door, keeping it open as though if he let it close, he’d lose Saskia again. If not for fear for his sister, nothing could have moved him from Saskia’s side. The thought that the monstrous roar could have anything to do with Eve terrified him.

  Footsteps in the hall, coming his way. He pulled the gun from his waistband and leaned against the doorframe. He was not afraid. Determination to save Saskia and reunite with Eve would ensure no armed agent could defeat him.

  The first of them appeared, shotgun raised. Adam stepped back. From his new position, the woman would have to come closer to kill him. When she did, he would put a bullet through her throat.

  She was not alone. Following her was a mismatched group of people, a surprising amount of which Adam recognised.

  “Put it away, Rachel,” shouted Omi, shoving the shotgun and stepping past her. On his heel was Delilah, a child of the red room with the ability to locate anyone in seconds, though only once every couple of days. At her side was Hattie, a teenager and the girl’s mother. Following them was towering Graham, known by many as Grendel. Unable to speak, Graham only growled, roared and made other animalistic noises. While he could reach impressive decibels with whatever passed for his vocal cords, he could emit nothing like the noise which had drawn Adam from the room.

  The other two women, Adam didn’t recognise. Both cast suspicious eyes his way. Uninterested in their distrust, he approached the group, letting the door swing closed behind him.

  “You escaped,” he said. “I feared the worst.”

  In the basement of a farmhouse, Lucy had sedated Adam. At that time, Doc, Hattie, Omi, Delilah and Grendel were all nearby while the enemy’s troops arrived in droves. That the entire group had survived seemed a miracle.

  “We ain’t out of the woods yet,” said Doc. His eyes flicked away after he spoke. These words recalled Adam to the monstrous roar. Before he could talk, Graham approached. For the first time, Adam noticed the near seven-foot man had someone over his shoulder. Gently, he placed her at Adam’s feet.

  At first, Adam could not speak; could only stare.

  “Mum?” he whispered at last. “Is she—”

  “She’s alive,” muttered a stunning woman Adam did not know. “If my son were not so attached to your sister, we would already have killed her, as she deserves.”

  “My sister,” said Adam. “You’ve seen Eve? Where is she?”

  “Dead,” said Rachel. “And so will we be soon if we don’t get out of here. Have you forgotten what we’re running from?”

  “Have you forgotten we still need to save your daughter?” said Graham’s mother.

  “All the more reason to get on with it.”

  The comment about his sister had knocked Adam. For a few seconds, his mind resisted the information. When it broke through, he grabbed Doc.

  “What’s she talking about? Where’s Eve?”

  “Man,” said Doc, looking miserable. “I’m sorry. What she said, it’s true. There was this monster. Honestly, you ain’t never seen nothing like it. Killed, like, a hundred agents in seconds, then came for us. Eve put up a shield, but it wouldn’t hold. She put everything she had into it so we could escape, but it was on the verge of crumbling when we went.

  Fast as he could, Adam processed this information

  “Did you see her die, or not?”

  “No, but—”

  “But nothing,” said Adam. “If you didn’t see her die, she isn’t dead, so where is she?”

  “Straight back the way we came, but dude, there ain’t nothing you can do.”

  Adam was already moving, racing down the hall, all thoughts of Saskia and his mother forgotten. Both women he had loved. When he had believed them dead, he had mourned; had fallen into despair.

  With Eve, there would be no despair. She was him, and he was her. If she was dead, there was nothing left.

  He would find her alive and save her.

  Otherwise, he would forfeit his life going against the monster that had killed her.

  Though it was pitch dark, Eve closed her eyes. She didn’t want to risk seeing a single inch of what was about to happen. She boiled as the monster continued to squeeze. There seemed to be little oxygen remaining. She felt faint but was not distressed by the fact: it would mean less pain.

  She thought of her brother, wished she could see him again. Before the tears came, she breathed deep and prepared to let go.

  3…2…1…

  A hand grabbed her arm. The shield collapsed; the monster crashed in from all sides, shattering her bones, devouring her flesh, drinking her blood.

  Except, none of that happened. The hand that had grabbed Eve remained on her arm. As the monster thrashed in confused fury, it yanked, causing her to tumble not into but through the beast, crashing to the ground, somehow on the safe side of its stinking flesh. Dumbfounded, she pinched her arm, not because she thought she was dreaming. She assumed she had died; that her fingers would pass through her ghost form.

  Disproving this supposition was the hand, still on her arm. A voice hissed in her ear.

  “Move.”

  She looked up; their eyes met.

  “Adam?”

  Since they were the smallest of children, Adam had been emotional, always led by his heart. He had cared too much, loved too easily. Titanic made him cry.

  Eve was ruthless, cruel, cold. She killed without remorse, abandoned the innocent to aid her goals. She hated Titanic and regretted th
at it was one of the few films she’d seen.

  She’d feared her heart was made of stone. When she saw her brother, she burst into tears.

  Adam rolled his eyes. After all his attempts to make her more human, she had to find her soul at a time when doing so could get them killed.

  “Move,” he repeated.

  The monster roared.

  Though the tears still came, the foul, bone-shaking noise snapped Eve out of her daze. Slipping her arm from Adam’s grasp, taking his hand instead, she jumped to her feet and ran.

  Stupid, probably brainless, the monster had only just realised the body of its latest victim did not lie beneath its many limbs. Another shriek preceded it rolling over. Hundreds of eyes spied Adam and Eve disappearing down a tunnel. It wasted no time giving chase, screaming with fury as it came.

  “We’ll never escape,” Eve called. “It’s too fast.”

  They were halfway between the passage’s entrance and the turn around which Eve had not long ago come with her mother. Around that bend was a lift, but even the corner was too far.

  The monster rolled into and along the passage at a frightening speed. Eve’s previous defensive actions against the creature had drained her. Her next shield would not last so long. If at all. Her initial joy at Adam’s arrival turned to despair. Because he had returned, she would not die alone. He would join her in the grave. For that, she would perish in self-loathing.

  Desperate to give him the chance to escape, she whipped her hand from his and span. Her shield covered the hall inches from her face. Seconds after she had cast it, the monster smashed into the barrier with all its force.

  The momentum the creature had built, compounded with its strength and Eve’s exhaustion all worked against her. As the beast hit the barrier, she felt the force of its blow smash her side. Lifted from her feet she spiralled down the hall, missing the turn for which she and Adam had been aiming, and crashed to the ground with a dizzying thump, sliding another few metres before coming to a halt.