Hell On Earth (Book 6): Rebirth

by Wright, Iain Rob

  Last night, they had hung out in the abandoned warehouse for three hours, having sex, chatting, laughing, and kissing, both of them naked and shivering. For a moment, life had felt ordinary, but in the dawn of a new day, things weren’t quite so bright. She was still a member of a post-apocalyptic society with a despot in charge. Despite that, she’d formed a connection with another human being, and it meant she could open her heart to more than hate and anger. It was enough to keep the rage from overtaking her completely.

  I can keep a little piece of myself for Tom. I can feel something other than a need for revenge.

  Diane couldn’t let herself be distracted too much by lust and love. Thomas still needed dealing with, and her life was in danger every second he lived. For the first time in a long time, anxiety began to strike her with its venomous fangs. Part of her wanted to run away with Tom, to find somewhere isolated and safe, but that frightened part of her had no place in this world. That Diane was an echo of an unacceptable past.

  It was time to get up and go. While Thomas hadn’t reassigned her duties since taking charge of Portsmouth, he hadn’t relieved her of them either. Most days she went through the motions of maintaining security, pretending to safeguard Thomas, while actually plotting his death. For today, she would take a break and make herself useful around Portsmouth. If she pursued her agenda too often, she would give herself away. Now and then, she had to carry out her duties and nothing more. It allowed her to remain invisible – a knife Thomas would never see coming.

  She put on clothes, shivering while briefly naked, then drank from the gallon jug she topped up with water every night before sleeping. Several of the larger boats had desalination facilities on board, and they kept a regular flow of processed seawater coming onto the docks. People had to fetch their own supply, but there was enough to go around. They also caught as much rainwater as possible on days when it was wet, and you couldn’t go ten feet without passing some sort of catcher or butt.

  She left the customs office five minutes later and entered the muggy atmosphere of the civilian docks. The air was thick with a fishy stench. A majority of the daily catch came from the several dozen fishing boats along the coast, but some preferred to catch their own supper from the civilian docks. Diane had been learning the ropes from a couple of the older guys, but she rarely found time to cast a line.

  Along with the odour pollution was noise pollution. It came from the military wharf – the busiest part of the docks. This morning the noise was particularly loud. She heard shouting and jeering, like a protest was happening. Too many buildings stood in the way to see what was happening, so she decided to ask a fisherman named Mitch. The old man was working nearby, cutting up some mackerel to use as bait for something larger. He noticed her and smiled through a gap in his fuzzy white beard. “Morning, Diane. You look fresh as a daisy.”

  She smirked, struggling to hide her naughtiness at having had sex. “Hi, Mitch. Hey, um, what’s going on over at the military wharf?”

  “I would’ve thought you’d have known all about it. General Thomas has found the rotten apples what plotted to kill Wickstaff. Maybe he’s caught that murderous wench, Maddy.”

  Diane’s fists clenched, but she willed them back open. Mitch was a good guy at heart, but not a thinker. He would happily eat up whatever news was spoon-fed to him by those with larger intellects. If people whispered that Maddy had killed Wickstaff, Mitch’s simple mind would accept it as fact.

  “Maddy wasn’t involved in Wickstaff’s death, Mitch. Trust me, okay?”

  “Then why’d she scarper?”

  Diane sighed. There would be little point in explaining. “I don’t know. Anyway, what are you talking about? Who are they saying plotted to kill Wickstaff?”

  “Don’t know. Keep to myself, don’t I? Hope they string the bastards up, whoever they are. I liked Wickstaff. Everyone did.”

  At least they could agree on that. “I’ll see you later, Mitch. Good luck fishing.”

  “I’ll share my catch. You look like you could use a good meal, lass.”

  “You’re probably right.” She left Mitch with his mackerel guts and headed for the commotion. Ten minutes later, she was close enough to hear the hatred in each individual voice. Something bad was happening, and sure enough, when she rounded the final corner, she saw what it was. Half of Portsmouth had assembled in an area known as the ‘parade square’. General Thomas stood on the wooden stage he’d had erected soon after Wickstaff’s death.

  His little propaganda platform. What is the sonofabitch up to now?

  Diane picked up speed, walking fast enough that her shins ached. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She didn’t like not knowing what was happening. For nearly a year she’d been in Wickstaff’s inner circle, privy to everything going on in Portsmouth. Now she was on the outside looking in – another clueless spectator.

  It took her another ten minutes to reach the military wharf. A concrete wall had once stood between the civilian and military areas, but it’d been knocked through and a gate added. The gate was currently open, as it usually was, but guards stood on either side of it. Fortunately, they recognised Diane and nodded. Both were Thomas’s men, and it seemed that lately more and more of every security position was being filled with people who had crossed the channel with the general. Wickstaff’s forces had been redeployed to scouting missions or menial tasks. Many had been sent out to protect the small farms set up in the surrounding countryside. Bit by bit, there were more and more foxes in the henhouse.

  “Shoot ’em!” she heard a woman yell in an American accent. To Diane’s horror, she recognised her as a survivor brought in by The Hatchet long before General Thomas had arrived in Portsmouth. Diane was certain the woman had been a ‘kindergarten’ teacher before. Now she was part of a baying mob.

  Diane shoved by the woman and passed several other jeering individuals. A line of people slumped on stage with Thomas and several guards stood behind them. They were half-conscious, their beaten faces bloodied. Despite the damage, Diane recognised every one of them; all original citizens of Portsmouth. People she knew. People she had recruited.

  Thomas moved behind the lectern on stage and spoke into a microphone. “Citizens of Portsmouth, today I bring you justice. I bring you closure for the death of Amanda Wickstaff. These immoral fiends kneeling before you plotted and carried out the assassination of the woman who saved so many of you. It is my duty to bring her murderers to justice, along with all those who conspired to help them. I will fulfil that duty today.”

  The crowd bawled with anger. Many spat and threw things, splattering the beaten men and women on stage. One kneeling man attempted to plead his innocence, but a guard struck his skull with the butt of a rifle and silenced him.

  Diane felt sick to her stomach. This wasn’t right.

  These people are innocent. Thomas is the monster. He’s the one who murdered Amanda. Why doesn’t anyone see that?

  Diane wanted to shout at the top of her lungs. She wanted to inform the people of Portsmouth that it was Thomas who they should condemn, that it was he who they should spit at. If she did that, though, violence would break out, and it would quickly swing in Thomas’s favour. Portsmouth was being guarded by his people, and enough propaganda had spread that many who had loved Wickstaff now supported him too. Shouting the truth would do nothing but get good people killed.

  She could do nothing but watch.

  Thomas went on, thumping the lectern like an apocalyptic Hitler. “Today, these vile cowards will forfeit their lives, but first they will witness the futility of their crimes. Guards! Bring him here.”

  A pair of soldiers shuffled from the back of the stage, dragging a badly beaten prisoner between them. The hooded stranger was frogmarched to where the other prisoners were slumped. Thomas glared at him balefully, and Diane knew the hatred’s true source was not the death of Wickstaff but the disloyalty towards him. Thomas was rooting out his opposition.

  I can’t do it. I’ll never
be able to make him pay. He has all the power.

  “This man,” Thomas barked into the microphone, “is responsible for convincing others to work against the common interest. He is a traitor to us all, serving only himself and his own agenda.”

  The crowd roared. Fists pumped the air. More spitting.

  Thomas gave the guards a nod and they whipped the hood off of the prisoner, revealing a face swollen and bruised. Diane gasped, not because of the grievous injuries, but because of who it was.

  Tom.

  No… No, please, no.

  Diane lost control of herself, desperate in every way. She shoved her way through the crowd, trying to get to Tom – trying to save him – but someone grabbed her and pulled her back. She didn’t recognise the shaven-headed man, but before she could shove him away, he whispered in her ear, “You can’t help him, Diane. Stop.”

  “What? Who the hell are you?”

  “Damien. You’re Diane. He’s Tom. I know a lot, which is why I’m telling you to keep calm and not do anything stupid.”

  “Calm? That sonofabitch needs to be stopped. Those people up there are innocent. He can’t do th—”

  “They’re not innocent. They’re casualties of war – acceptable losses if you want to win this. You do want to win this, don’t you?”

  Diane peered at Tom. He could barely stand, so badly beaten was he. Even his hands were bruised. He must have put up a fight. She had to help him. “It’s not an acceptable loss to me.”

  “You speak out and you’ll end up right next to him. They beat the shit out of him, Diane, but he didn’t give them your name. Don’t let his suffering be for nothing.”

  “What the hell do you expect me to do?”

  “Whatever shit you’re feeling, shove it down and shape it into something useful. Once it’s sharp enough, you can shove it in Thomas’s throat, but only when the time is right.”

  Diane’s vision blurred. The stranger seemed to sense her weakness because he reached out and steadied her. His hands were freezing, but it helped bring back her alertness. Although she would’ve preferred unconsciousness over having to witness this.

  Tom…

  Please…

  Thomas moved in front of the prisoners and faced Tom specifically. “I’ll have you shot for your crimes, son, but first I’m going to give you the opportunity to redeem yourself. Reveal the rest of your co-conspirators and I’ll spare the lives of these other criminals. Tell us who else has been acting against the common good and you may die with a clean conscience.”

  Tom seemed to glare at Thomas, but it was hard to tell because his eyes were so swollen. His lips were split and they trembled as if he were preparing to speak. But he didn’t. Instead, he spat bloody saliva right into Thomas’s face. Diane beamed as the tyrant recoiled, the old fucker’s bony face growing redder than the blood on his cheeks.

  Take that, you piece of shit! Good on you, Tom.

  Then Thomas whipped out a handgun and shot Tom point-blank in the face.

  Before Diane could scream, Damien grabbed her and pulled her into a hug, keeping her from seeing her lover’s body hit the ground. She sobbed into his ice-cold chest, but not loudly enough to block out the noise of further gunshots being fired, and further sounds of bodies hitting the stage.

  She was alone.

  5

  Damien shuddered, but he wasn’t sure why. An uncomfortable feeling had come over him, making him want to curl up into a ball. Nancy must have noticed his unease because she asked him what was wrong. “I’m not sure. Just got the jitters for a moment. You still sure you want to do this?”

  Nancy looked around, glancing up and down the main road. It was jam-packed with wrecked and abandoned cars, but there was no apparent danger. That didn’t make what she was doing any less reckless. “I have no choice,” she said. “If there’s any chance my kids are alive somewhere, I have to find them. Are you sure you won’t come?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t. You’ll have your guys with you though.”

  Nancy looked over at the four Americans who had followed her all the way from Indiana. They were tough men who had fought side by side with her. Damien felt better knowing she wouldn’t be alone on the road. They were twelve miles south of Kielder Forest, but he didn’t trust her journey would be plain sailing from here.

  Nancy chewed the inside of her cheek, then said, “I’m really hoping this isn’t the last time we see each other, Damien.”

  “Promise me you’ll do everything you can to stay out of trouble. We might have kicked demon ass back in Indiana, but this place is different. You don’t know the land.”

  She placed a kiss on his cheek. “Trust me when I say I’ll do everything I can to stay alive, but you do the same, okay? Whatever happens here, survive.”

  Damien felt tears coming. “You should go. You’re wasting light.”

  “Look who’s in a hurry to be rid of the ol’ ball and chain. Got your next chick lined up?”

  “There’s no one else. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Nancy grabbed his hand and squeezed, holding onto it as she turned away and keeping contact until the last second, when their fingertips slid apart. Damien watched her walk away, wondering if her gait had ever been feminine and gentle instead of strong and powerful. In a previous life, they would never have got together. Damien had been a young banker, frequenting pubs by night for a pint and a shag. Nancy had been a mother of two on her second marriage. In this new world, they were soldiers bound by blood and pain.

  Damien thought Nancy would look back, but she didn’t. She joined her escorts and started shimmying between the cars and vans that blocked the road. The morning sun was dazzling, sending shards of light across the fading metal paintwork. At first, Damien thought it was those shafts of light that caught his eye, but then he realised it was something else – something moving. A shadow ducked and dived between the stalled vehicles, getting closer. Then it wasn’t just one solitary shadow but many.

  Damien yelled at the top of his lungs, “Demons!”

  Nancy and her bodyguards raised their rifles. Damien didn’t see who fired first, but once it happened, the chorus of war began in earnest. Damien added to the cacophony, firing blindly ahead and hoping to hit something.

  The first shadow revealed itself, leaping up onto the wide, round bonnet of a silver saloon. It was a demonic primate, a creature so twisted and perverse that it was more beast than man. It glared at them and snarled.

  “Fall back,” Nancy bellowed. “There’re too many of them.”

  Damien fired off an entire magazine in less than three seconds, hitting the primate on the bonnet and the one that immediately leapt up beside it. Nancy took one out as well, but as she’d said, there were too many of them – two dozen at least. They had to retreat.

  Damien waited for Nancy to fall back in line, but as she did so, one of her escorts tripped on a fallen wing mirror. The stumble was all it took for a primate to leap across the roof of a smashed-up Porsche and land on him. His screams lasted less than a second, his throat quickly torn open.

  “Where the hell did they come from?” Nancy’s attention darted left and right as she fired several shots. “I thought this area had been cleared.”

  Damien had that bad feeling again, but this time there was no mystery behind the cause. “This is what we’ve been preparing for. Whatever the demons have been planning, it just kicked off. We’ve been ambushed.”

  “I’m never going to find my kids. These fucking monsters. I hate them. I hate them so fucking much.”

  Damien wanted to argue – to tell her that everything would be okay – but when he spotted more demons racing towards them, he couldn’t deny the truth. There was no way out of this. They couldn’t run, they couldn’t fight. All they could do was take down as many of the bastards as possible to make sure those back at the castle had a slightly better chance of survival.

  “It’s been an honour fighting with you folks,” said one of Nancy’s escorts, a t
hick-necked old boy named Norton. He’d run an Indiana textile factory in his former life with two sons who were both now dead. Perhaps that was why the old guy was so brave; he was eager to rejoin his family. “I’ll buy you some time to make it to the treeline.”

  Nancy shook her head. “Norton, don’t!”

  But it was too late. The brave American had moved forward, picking his shots and catching the attention of every demon. The two remaining escorts bolted for the treeline, and Damien was about to take off after them, but Nancy didn’t move at all. She aimed her rifle and fired, rooted to the spot. Damien grabbed her and yelled. “Come on, we have to go!”

  “I’m not leaving Norton.”

  “He’s made his decision. It’s too late to change it.” And that was the truth. The demons had already surrounded him. Damien fired a shot and hit one of the demons in the thigh, but it was hopeless. More monsters emerged from behind the wrecked vehicles. Who knew how many would eventually present themselves?

  Damien pulled at Nancy again. This time, to his relief, she let herself be moved. She turned and picked up speed, rushing for the trees. The two escorts hadn’t yet fully retreated, and they fired their rifles to provide cover.

  Then the worst thing happened.

  The two escorts fell at exactly the same time, wailing first in shock and then in agony. Burnt men appeared behind them in the trees, twenty at least, forming a wall and blocking any chance of escape. Damien’s knees deserted him and he collapsed onto the road. His rifle struck the ground and discharged accidentally, the round ricocheting into the air, seeking clouds. “We’re fucked,” he moaned. “Totally fucked.”

  “They’ve cut off our retreat,” said Nancy in disbelief. “We’re idiots.”

  “We couldn’t have known. This area was clear.”

  Nancy knelt beside him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, you’re going to die because of me.”

  Damien shrugged. “I would have happily died for less.”

  They fired their rifles until they were empty, tossed them aside, and then embraced. Finally, they waited for it all to be over. It didn’t take long.