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

by Mark Ayre

  By the light the castle cast onto the mountain, Eve watched these natural disasters remove swathes of her enemies from play. It would never be enough. Should a hundred more landslides occur, an army of beasts large enough to destroy her little team, and the world they protected, would remain to finish the job.

  This universe might well collapse in on itself. Before it did, hundreds of thousands of her father’s creations would have made it to Earth.

  Eve could not allow that to happen.

  At the door into her father’s chamber, huge fists began to pound. Graham turned their way but backed onto the balcony.

  “I’ve raised a shield,” said Eve. “Don’t know how long it’ll hold. Graham, it’s asking too much, but only you can keep them at bay until I’ve done… whatever it is I’m about to do.”

  She turned to him. He approached, pulled her into a hug which almost broke her ribs.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He could not speak; his sad smile said as much and more than could any monologue. He returned under the arch to await the door’s demise and the fight to follow.

  “To you too,” Eve said to Delilah. “I’m sorry.”

  Though Delilah could not see Eve, she raised a hand in her older half-sister’s direction and awaited the comforting squeeze. Though she could speak, Delilah mimicked Graham’s sad smile and said not a word.

  “Right then,” said Eve.

  She turned to the horizon. When Adam had mentioned millions of weapons, she’d had no clue what he meant. As soon as the lights had gone out, she’d understood. Miles away, the second nearest doorway burned, a beacon of light in a world of darkness.

  Raising her hands, Eve closed her eyes. As she did, she could feel the sheer power of this split between universes. Like a shot of pure heroin, it threatened to send her into bliss, into coma, into death.

  It was not alone. From that first doorway, Eve reached out and connected to another, and another. Soon she had ten. From there, the growth was exponential. Within a couple of minutes, she could feel the raw energy of every single doorway on this world, except for the one through which she had entered, each possessing the destructive power of several thousand atomic bombs. Having brought them under her control, she was able to weaponise them. Having weaponised them, she placed her finger upon the trigger.

  She opened her eyes.

  Behind her, the door burst open. The first of her father’s created children shot into the room, coming face to face with Graham.

  There was nothing Eve could do about that now. Not if she wanted this to work.

  Focusing on the only doorway in her eye line, Eve smiled. To Delilah, still at her side, she said, “Little one, it’s a shame you can’t see.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” she said. “I think this is about to be one hell of a light show.”

  Laughing in madness and fear, Eve lifted her arms, opened her fists, and released the full might of her power.

  Delilah could not see. Still, she knew what was happening.

  The door through which their enemies came was narrow, allowing access to only one fiend at a time. Graham kept close to the door and dealt with each adversary quickly, knowing he would only last while he kept the odds even.

  At Delilah’s side, Eve spread her arms and seemed to glow. One by one, she began to pull the triggers on millions of weaponised doorways.

  The stone beneath their feet trembled with increasing ferocity. The planet itself seemed to roar as an invisible force opened huge chasms in the ground. The mountain began to crumble, sending more and more of Delilah’s father’s beasts to their doom. The castle trembled as though in fear of Eve’s power. A tower collapsed.

  Graham was still trying to keep the odds even. The enemy came faster and faster, pushing through and forcing him back. Delilah heard his howl, and he went to ground. Fast, ignoring the pain, he was up. Even in so short a time, three monsters had burst through the door. More were coming. Graham, who would never give up, howled and went to war.

  Eve grunted and seemed to push as though giving birth. A flaming inferno lit the sky, burning with such ferocious brightness that, for a moment, it was as though Delilah could see.

  Another battlement fell. A colossal crack rent through the balcony. Delilah screamed as she felt it open beneath her feet. Stumbling, she fell onto her behind. She knew Eve hadn’t noticed, couldn’t notice. Another crack and the balcony tilted towards the ground, tossing Delilah onto what had been the stone wall and was fast becoming a mini balcony of its own. More cracks in the stone suggested the entire balcony would soon release and plummet down the mountain.

  Graham roared in triumph as he killed two monsters in two strokes. Then five more were upon him. Another came through the door, and another, and another. Graham killed a further two before five times as many overwhelmed him, dragging him to the ground in a chaos of claws and teeth and fists.

  Eve lowered her arms and buckled at the knees. Subconscious power had kept her upright while there was work to be done. Job complete, she fell.

  Another huge crack ripped through the balcony, and it tipped past the point of no return. Eve’s shoulder smacked the stone barrier and she went over the edge. By the tips of her fingers, she clung on. From all directions, a destructive wave the like of which no universe had ever seen tore to shreds this world and the atmosphere above it. Eve knew if she fell, there was no coming back. If she survived the fall, she’d be vaporised moments later.

  The balcony broke free. Delilah flew over the wall and tumbled through the sky, fast approaching the hordes of monsters who scrambled up the mountainside.

  Pointing at the terrified girl, Eve flicked a finger, at the same time shielding Delilah and propelling her into the air and under the arch from which the balcony had snapped.

  Rising, balancing on the wall, Eve leapt, planted a foot on the crumbling balcony and pushed free. A second later the crumbling pile of stone smashed the mountainside, pulverising a host of her father’s creations.

  She arced through the air, then fell. The mountain fast approached. The monsters reached for her.

  With a desperate flick of the wrist, she cast beneath her an invisible disc of energy. A towering monster leapt, scraped the invisible shield, and screamed as skin burned and bone snapped.

  On the same shield, Eve landed. From this side, it acted like a trampoline, propelling her into the air. At the height of this bounce, she cast another shield halfway between the sole of her shoe and her first. After landing on this one, at the zenith of her next climb, she conjured a third.

  Delilah sailed through the arch and landed hard on the floor of her father’s chamber. At once, a group of monsters set upon her, attacking with reckless abandon. She felt their blows, but only as they bounced off Eve’s shield, unable to penetrate. For once, Delilah was glad she was blind.

  With zero grace, Eve just landed through the arch. Wobbling, her foot hovering over the edge, she fought to regain her balance, finally pitching forward and landing face-first on the stone. Rising, she saw her brother, who had gone unnoticed until Eve arrived. A group of monsters swarmed him. After blasting them away, Eve cast a shield and turned to find Graham as a monster slashed her stomach with an open palm. One of this beast’s arms ended in a stump. The other in a hand which boasted eight fingers, each of which ended in a razor-sharp talon. The pain if not the visual indicated with which hand the foul beast had swiped.

  With a scream, Eve tossed her murderer down the mountain with a swipe of her own. A flick of her wrist ended the lives of every monster in the chamber, as well as any within five floors of the castle’s uppermost room.

  Delilah heard her sister fall and scrambled towards the sound. She could hear the outside world; knew how close she was to the open arch and her doom. This frightened but did not stop her approaching Eve, whom she soon found, taking her hand.

  “Eve,” she whispered. Her hand found Eve’s stomach and knew at once this much blood was not a good
sign.

  “Got shot there,” said Eve. “Doc’s stitches pretty good. Still, guess it was always going to be easy to reopen—arsehole monster. How’d I look?” she laughed. “Sorry, forgot.”

  “You’re going to be okay,” said Delilah. “I think if we just—”

  “No time for nonsense, kid,” said Eve. “What matters is… job’s a goodun. I ripped the explosive heart out of every doorway. Starting from the one furthest from us, I set them off and brought them this way. You should see the speed they move. Incredible. Across the landscape, tearing this planet and all its inhabitants to shreds. A couple more minutes, and it’ll reach us, and this whole place will be gone.

  From across the room, a low whine; a pained, dying whine.

  “Graham,” said Eve. “Oh, sweet Graham. You’re a hero.”

  Delilah was crying. Eve touched her face.

  “I killed the closest monsters,” she said. “You’ve no time to mourn. Wake Adam. Whatever you have to do, wake him, and have him get you out of here. Do it now.”

  Though Delilah understood the gravity of Eve’s words, she found herself fixed to the floor. Sobbing over the dying hero, she could find no strength to move. She got the sense Eve, her big half-sister, had tried to speak again.

  Then she fell still.

  Delilah felt her protective shield slip away. In response, she howled with loss.

  Afterwards, all was quiet but for the raging inferno crashing their way and the demons, pounding up the stairs. Both threats were moments away. Delilah could only hope Eve’s great weapon arrived first. That was the easiest way to go.

  Sobbing harder, she rested her head on Eve’s chest.

  And someone laid their hand on her shoulder.

  “Come on. We’ve no time to nap. Believe me, I wish we did.”

  Delilah’s head jerked up. She turned to the voice; that weak, almost energyless voice.

  “Adam?”

  “That’s the one. Come on, you heard Eve. We’ve no time.”

  “We can’t leave her.”

  Adam chuckled. “Well, obviously.”

  Leaning over, he collected his sister and threw her over his shoulder. Her open wound needed prompt attention. If he stopped to tend to her, they’d all die.

  Taking Delilah’s hand, he guided her to the gate. “Stand there.”

  “Where are you going?”

  He didn’t answer, turning he looked through the arch and saw nothing but blinding light. The world was about to end.

  Rushing across the room, still holding Eve over one shoulder, he came to Graham. The seven-foot man with the monstrous visage and the hero’s heart lay surrounded by the dead. His breathing was laboured. Exhausted and running out.

  “Come on,” said Adam. “Time to go.”

  Graham resisted, groaning and yanking his arm from Adam, who already felt as though he might collapse and pass out and not wake up for a hundred years. That would be okay. Things could be better in his dreams.

  Knowing his luck, he’d suffer a hundred years of nightmares.

  “Keep resisting,” he said, “and you get us all killed. Now, come on.”

  Graham’s next howl was resentful. Not wanting to die with a guilty conscience, he rose with pained, sluggish moves, getting to his knees, then to his feet, staggering with Adam towards their route home.

  The wall of light appeared to be no closer; it had already filled every inch of the land and sky beyond the arch. Now it’s effects were more apparent. The castle seemed to shimmer as though melting from the heat. Adam’s brow poured with sweat.

  Delilah waited. They were ten seconds from the doorway.

  Another monster burst into the chamber, followed by another, followed by another. They cackled with malevolent delight and hatred.

  “So close,” moaned Adam.

  Refusing to give up, he took another step and another.

  Graham hadn’t come along.

  The seven-foot man, so often called Grendel, turned.

  “What are you doing?” called Adam, though he knew. “Don’t.”

  Shoving Adam towards Delilah, causing the twins and the girl to collapse into a heap, Graham, in all his monstrous glory, fell upon his adversaries, tearing and ripping at them with what little strength remained. Holding them off.

  But more were coming into the chamber. Most attacked Graham, some looped around that action, aiming for Adam, Eve and Delilah.

  “Graham, come on,” shouted Delilah.

  Adam grabbed her hand; steadied Eve on his shoulder.

  “We have to go,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  He tugged her, but she pulled back. Her tiny hand slipped through his. Stumbling, she fell onto her behind.

  Grinning with deranged glee, the monster closest to Delilah sped up.

  Taking no notice of this mortal threat, she stared across the room.“Graham, please.”

  Adam stared at the vortex, at the light of destruction which had begun to fill the room like a waterfall filling a bucket, at Eve on his shoulder.

  “Damn it.”

  Drawing his gun, he downed the monster approaching Delilah with a bullet to the head.

  Hearing the roar of gunfire, the enemy spun. Taking his moment, Graham threw off three of his five attackers. Five more started towards the gunman. Adam emptied his clip into the two who remained on Graham.

  “We get it, you’re a hero,” Adam roared. “Now get over here. You too,” he added to Delilah.

  Somehow finding the strength to move, Graham stumbled towards them, shoving one beast aside and then another.

  Delilah jumped to her feet and ran for Adam.

  Graham went to his knees.

  Chucking his gun, Adam grabbed Delilah with one hand and, struggling to balance Eve over his shoulders, thrust out the other.

  “Graham, now.”

  The blinding light was all. Adam could see nothing but the result of Eve’s incredible power.

  Someone grabbed Adam’s hand.

  Tugging Delilah, clinging to Eve, he threw himself through the doorway, and out of hell.

  Eleven dead monsters of varying types littered the floor, spread amongst the bones of the skeletonised organisation staff. Five had come alone; there had been one group of two and a group of four. The group of four had been the most recent. Doc, Omi, Hattie and Ursula had survived the bout but were out of ammunition. When next the demons came, they were finished.

  The vortex between worlds blazed. For the first time, the red fire turned to a white light brighter than any of them had ever seen.

  In that white light, shadows appeared; the shapes of another foursome.

  Hattie stepped forward, hope catching her heart as it had at each hint of a creature or creatures appearing through the porthole. On each occasion, when it had been revealed not to be her daughter, Hattie’s hope had turned to hatred in a heartbeat, and she had been ruthless in her execution of monsters who might have felt they had already suffered enough pushing through that incinerating field.

  These shadows became shapes. Hattie’s gun was in her hand by the side. She held on though it was empty of bullets. If this latest group turned out to be another monstrous batch, she would step forward, raise the gun, and pull the trigger until her mind caught her fury. Then she would drop the gun and try to kill the beasts with her bare hands. She might even succeed.

  The shapes became people, and the people collapsed through the vortex, onto the red room floor.

  Hattie dropped the gun. Her hands rushed to her mouth and she released a low squeak.

  They had found a wheelchair, which Omi now occupied, having won it on account of being old as well as infirm. When Doc saw who had fallen through the vortex, he forced himself to stand on one leg, back against the wall, but could not move forward.

  A bullet had lodged in Ursula’s leg. Doc had stemmed the bleeding but needed more equipment than this room had to offer to mend her limb and get her walking painlessly once more. Despite this, she burst from the wall an
d staggered across the room towards her son.

  Hattie was frozen to the spot, hands to her mouth.

  Adam had dropped Eve. He turned to Graham, said, “Oh good, it is you,” and collapsed. A second later, Ursula had thrown her arms around her son and was sobbing as he held her aloft.

  Delilah stepped from the red room, faced her mother.

  “See,” she said. “I told you I’d be back.”

  Her daughter’s voice was all it took to release Hattie from her statue spell. Throwing her arms wide, she bolted across the room as had Ursula, picking up her daughter and spinning. Together they sobbed.

  For a couple of minutes, there was nothing but the joy of the two parents reuniting with their children.

  Then Grendel collapsed.

  “He’s badly hurt,” said Ursula. “We need to get him help.”

  “Eve’s injured too,” said Delilah. “We need to save her.”

  In the red room, the doorway to that hellish world exploded.

  Ursula screamed and dropped, but the explosion did not spread outwards.

  A sword of blinding light shot up, tearing through the facility and breaking the ground above, firing into the sky.

  For ten seconds, it remained, a beam from the depths to the heavens. Then, it vanished. As easy as that, the bridge between universes had disappeared and the other place, that awful, evil place, was no more.

  For some time, they stared through the hole to the beautiful sky above.

  At last, Doc cleared his throat.

  “Okay then,” he said. “Who wants to play assistant while I start saving some lives?”

  Aching and disoriented, Eve woke.

  The room was small, the bed not comfortable but far more pleasant than many she had suffered in her time. Her vision, blurred at first, cleared fast. As it did, she noted medical equipment to her left, Doc to her right.

  “Alright, sleepyhead,” he said. The piece of plastic on which he sat looked more like a tool of torture than it did a chair. To his right was an empty wheelchair which at least had some padding.

  “How you feeling?” he asked.