Legion (An Apocalyptic Horror Novel) (Hell on Earth Book 2) (28 page)

G
uy Granger stood
upon the bow of the USCG Hatchet and watched the south-western tip of the United Kingdom appear on the horizon. Never before had he sailed the English Channel, but he embraced it now as home waters for his children, Alice and Kyle, lay only a hundred miles inland.

“We can reach Portsmouth in a few hours, Captain,” said Lieutenant Tosco at his right side.

“Who knows what we’ll find,” said the retired captain, Skip, to Guy’s left.

Guy nodded. “We will find the world changed, as we have everywhere these last few days, but if my children are safe, then it is familiar enough for me.”

“What will you do at Portsmouth?” asked Tosco unsubtly. The thought of gaining command of the Hatchet glowed green in his eyes,

“I don’t yet know, but if I depart, I may need to return to the Hatchet once I have Alice and Kyle.”

“We need to join the fight,” said Tosco. “Back home ideally.”

“This
is
the fight, Lieutenant. Alice and Kyle are children. Is saving them not the very essence of the fight we have before us?”

“There are many children besides your own who need help.”

“And we shall help them, but before we reach Portsmouth, it would be unwise to plan.”

“Agreed,” said Skip. “We’ve been hearing the United Kingdom has a force assembling there. Who knows what aid they might offer us, or we them.”

“We are not here to help the United Kingdom,” said Tosco. “We serve the United States.”

“Way I see it right now,” said Skip, “we serve the human race.”

Tosco went to speak again, but Guy cut him off. He knew a quest to save his children was selfish, but he didn’t care. As captain of the ship, he had earned the right. Their time for being heroes would come later. For now, Alice and Kyle needed him to be their dad. He hadn’t always been there, but he would be there when it counted.

He would be there for them soon.

They sailed in silence for the next hour, day breaking fully and giving the men on deck a brief respite to enjoy the sunshine. The day was mild, and run through with a gentle breeze, but it gave one cause to hope. Humanity might have fallen, but the day still displaced night as it was supposed to. The world still turned.

The south coast reeled along like a spool of rope pulled before them. Portsmouth would be upon them soon, and their fates decided. Tosco and Skip left to attend duties, but Guy remained upon the bow alone, looking out at a country not his own and praying that it still cared for his children.

The Hatchet listed starboard and then back, then rose up on an errant wave.

More waves followed. The ship tilted to and fro.

The English Channel was not the high seas, and such rough conditions were unexpected. Guy was about to hail the Bridge when a great booming roar skated across the water. The Hatchet leapt up on another massive wave, and Guy had to hold onto a railing to avoid going overboard.

Inland, the sky lit up with light bright enough to eclipse the sun. The explosion was massive, unparalleled by anything Guy had ever witnessed, and it came from the direction of London.

Alice. Kyle.

T
akao wandered
the quiet streets of Tokyo like a scowling Ronin, his bloody katana pointing the way in front of him. His battle with the Oni had cost him his left hand, stamped to pulp by the giant inside the JoyCity Plaza. Never again would he play video games, but such things were behind him now anyway. He was a warrior, a weapon of honour his ancestors could wield against the Oni and its Legions. The underworld had opened up and spilled its
Yōkai
upon the earth.

Yet, the streets were quiet now. The towering glass skyscrapers of Japan’s greatest city were darkened and still, like facets of nature rather than manmade hives. Were people still inside? Takao did not know, and his focus was on the enemy.

He had been forced to escape his battle with the Oni, for every cut he made with his katana produced no wound. The giant was impervious, and a wise warrior did not fight an enemy without weakness. He walked away until he learned that enemy’s weakness. That was why Takao was walking through the city streets now; he was trying to think.

The lesser demons had fallen easily, their bodies yielding to blade as flesh was supposed to, and during his retreat Takao had beheaded more than a dozen of the monsters. Yet, unless he could figure out a way to defeat the Oni, it would be for nothing.

He walked for another hour without contact, leaving the busier city districts and entering the Bunkyō-ku ward. It was there that he heard noises coming from the park. Rikugien Garden meant
Garden of the Six Principles of Poetry
, and it was somewhere Takao had used to come as a child with his family. He had resented it back then, being pulled away from his videogames, but now he realised how blessed he had been to enjoy such nature. The sight of demons currently surrounding the picturesque pond set his teeth on edge, and tightened his one-handed grip on his katana. What disturbed him more was the sheer amount of people huddled together like captives. The men, women, and children were being rounded up in the centre of the park, their whimpers breezing across the pond like ghostly water lily.

This would not do.

Takao focused on the agony of his swollen left hand and used it to ignite his temper. He slunk amongst the trees, moving towards the enemy encampment. Were they a part of the Oni’s forces, or where they a separate horde? Exactly how bad were things in his homeland? Were these demons everywhere? He knew the answer already.

Takao used the fading sunlight to his advantage and kept to the shadows. Like a preying mantis, he struck out from behind a low hanging maple and impaled a demon through the back. The burnt monster made no sound as his lungs imploded, and Takao dragged it backwards into the long grass before anyone noticed. He took two more demons the exact same way, and before long he was right up alongside the enemy camp.

Two hundred monsters at least, and three times as many human prisoners. They huddled on the ground, averting their eyes from the horrors surrounding them. The elderly clutched one another, as did the children. Adults surrendering so meekly to capture was shameful, and if the men and women died soon, they would do so with dishonour. As a blooded warrior, it was Takeo’s duty to help. The weak could not help themselves.

Takao ducked and waited for night to fall across the park. In the darkness, the enemy were only shapes, yet everything standing was a target. He stalked as many of them as he could from the shadows, thinning their numbers as much as he could before he would be forced to enter open battle. He was just one warrior, yet he had stood against an Oni and lived.

Eventually, all of the demons around the edge of the park lay dead in the grass, and the time came for Takao to test himself.

Honour demands I do this. A warrior does not turn from his duty.

With a deep breath, Takao stepped out of the trees and into the open, night air of the park. The demons saw him immediately and came all at once, screeching like
bakeneko.
He sliced his katana horizontally and beheaded three in a line, then twirled to slash diagonally downwards into the rancid thigh of another beast. At the end of each slice, Takao launched a new one, spinning and dancing through his teeming enemy without pause. To stop would mean death. A moment’s inaction would present his enemy a target to strike at, and with so many foes he could not avoid them all.

The demons fell in their droves as they ran at Takao from all angles. He sliced them apart like a mincer, sucking in their bodies and spitting out flesh. Their screeches turned to frustrated howls, and Takao could also hear the astonished yelps of the human prisoners.

Takao’s years of sedentary game playing began to punish him, and his sword arm grew tired, wishing it had the left one as support. Unable to move quickly enough, he was forced to shove out his mangled left hand to defend himself. A demon bit into his wrist, but the pain in that arm was already total. He was happy to sacrifice the ruined limb as he beheaded the attacking demon mid-chew with his sword.

Takao swung around in a wide arc to give himself more room. The amount of blood and gore at his feet told him that a hundred of the enemy might already lie dead, yet there were still hundreds more. The ground turned to bog and his feet slipped with every step. Eventually he twisted his knee and fell into a crouch. He pointed his katana upwards just in time to impale a lunging creature resembling an ape or monkey. The thing fell sideways, snapping the blade and taking a large portion of it to the ground.

Takao panted, tried to get up. His journey was at an end. His place to die was here, and his soul would join those of other warriors. Enough enemy lay dead to give him the honour that few men possessed in the afterlife.

Yet he wished not to die. Giving his life to the enemy made him sick, and memories of his family and childhood restricted his throat with grief. With a last effort, he pushed up onto his feet and stabbed out with his broken katana. He slit the throat of one demon, and then buried the broken blade into the eye socket of another. Then he lost his grip on the handle and lost the weapon forever.

Unarmed and exhausted, Takao got down on his knees and lowered his head. Let them be done with it quickly.

The killing blow took forever to come, and Takao wondered if it was fear stretching out his final seconds. But then he heard the commotion, sounds of battle still raging. When he lifted his head, he saw that he was no longer a lone warrior.

The prisoners had taken heart from his display and were fighting for their freedom. They fell upon the demons with rocks and clubs, beating them bloody and crushing them underfoot. The sheer number of prisoners was enough to overrun the enemy in seconds, and before long Takao was being helped up on either side by two heavily tattooed men. They were Yakuza.

“You shame us, young one,” said the older of the two men, a bald head instead of the blond mohawk of his companion. “Thank you for showing us the way before it was too late. We can kill them. We shall kill them.”

Takao lowered his head again. “There is only one who must die, and he cannot be killed.”

“Everything can be killed, young one, and any battle can be won. You just proved that.”

Takao lifted his head and stared up at the moon. “If it is true. If there is a way to kill the Oni, I will find it.”

The Yakuza waved an arm at the several hundred survivors behind him. “And you’ll have an army to help you.”

Takao smiled. Before long they would be legion.

M
oving away
from Brunswick had led them to Lewiston, where Nancy was glad to see a heavy Army presence on the near side of the river. The entire road was taken up with soldiers and they had been forced to abandon their car. It beggared believe that so many trucks and so many troops were able to assemble so quickly. She had always thought of the Army as being abroad, but the truth was that they were at home too—enough to get a lot of killing done. Perhaps things were not as hopeless as she had assumed.

Although, until she heard from Kyle and Alice, things were as bleak as could be. And she couldn’t shake the memory of defeated soldiers retreating through her home town of Durham.

Clark seemed to sense her anxiety and kept her from panicking with well-timed hugs and kisses. The feel of another person was surprisingly calming, yet she was upset by a desire to have her ex-husband hold her. Guy was a man of action and strength. He would know what to do right now, yet Clark seemed to have nothing other than sympathy to offer. He was a gentle man, a good man, but right now he was an ineffectual man. She missed Guy, and that brought her great turmoil.

Yet, she was eternally grateful that her ex-husband was heading towards their children and not to her. If anything happened to Alice or Kyle she would no longer be able to live.

“Can you believe all this?” said Clark, pointing towards a massive tank that probably had a girl’s name painted on it somewhere. Several soldiers sat on it’s sides as it rolled along slowly. “We’re going to kick those bastards straight back to Hell.”

Nancy gave a grim smile, less confident than her husband.

A soldier with a clipboard came racing over and barked loudly. “Out the way, we have troops moving through here.”

“Back towards Brunswick?” Nancy asked.

“Of course. The enemy are still there and we need to contain them before they get a chance to spread out.”

“But they beat us back. I saw the men retreating.”

“We were underprepared, ma’am, but now we know what we’re up against and will get the better of future engagements.”

Clark waved a fist. “You go get ‘em, man.”

The soldier was impassive. “Please head to Leeroy Jenkins High School if you need assistance. The refugee centre is being set up there.”

“Refugee?” said Nancy. “We’re not refugees.”

“Can you go home?”

“No, it’s not safe.”

“Then you are a refugee. Martial Law is in affect within the state of Maine, ma’am, and all civilians are ordered to either their homes or a designated refugee centre.”

Nancy folded her arms, not quite sure why she was irritated. “And if we refuse?”

“You’ll be arrested. Now move along.”

Clark grabbed her. “Come on, hun. It’ll be the best place to be. We came here for safety anyway.”

Nancy started moving, waiting until the soldier was out of earshot to reply. “I know. I just don’t like being ordered around by the military. They have no right to give commands.”

“They do during martial law. Anyway, they’re about to risk their lives for us, so give them a break.”

“You’re right. Come on then, let’s go to school.”

Leeroy Jenkins was about half mile down the block, and when they found it Nancy covered her mouth in shock. There was barely room to move as even the front steps of the building were overflowing with people. The front lawn housed gurneys full of moaning people calling out to one of the small handful of doctors buzzing between them. Other casualties wandered back and forth in a daze, wounds ranging from broken arms to gouged out eyes. The smell of blood and urine bleached the air.

“I feel sick.”

Clark wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. “I’m sure these people will be okay. Things will get figured out.”

Nancy turned on him. “Figured out? Clark, monsters are attacking the earth. People are dead and dying—children.
My
children are in danger.”

Clark blinked as if hurt. Kyle and Alice were his kids too, biological or not. “I know, Nancy. Don’t you think I know? But what can we do except hope for the best?”

“We need to do more than hope, Clark.”

“You mean fight? Where would the sense be in that? We’re not soldiers.”

“Neither is Guy, but he’s doing something.”

Clark shook his head. “Jeez, Nancy. I know you’re hurting, but jeez.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just hate being a witness to all this. I feel so powerless. I…” She started sobbing. “I just want to hear their voices again. I want to hear them so badly.”

Clark held her again. “Alice and Kyle are okay. I know it. Let’s just go inside and try to find out more.”

They pushed through the mass of bodies and made it into the school’s main building. Inside, the misery was just as pervasive. There were less injured people, but the shell-shock had taken its toll on just about everyone. It was like walking through an army of ghosts—expressionless faces and faraway stares.

A woman reached out a hand to Nancy as she passed, tears wetting her cheeks. “My daughter? Have you seen a little girl named Samantha? She has on a pink scarf and a My Little Pony T-shirt. We were in Brunswick. I… lost her.”

Nancy dodged the woman’s hand and shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. We came from Durham.”

The woman turned away sobbing.

“That poor woman,” said Clark.

There were no soldiers in the school, but several men and women wore name tags and held clipboards. Each one of them gave a direction, which Nancy and Clark followed until they were inside the school’s gymnasium. The bowels of Hell.

Maybe it was the sporting atmosphere of the basketball courts, but the temper inside was manic. People shoved and fought one another as if one opposing teams. Women screamed and men swore. What they were fighting over was unclear, but it was obvious that things were quickly heading towards chaos. A teenager, only a few years older than Kyle, was kicking an older man on the floor and yelling at him for being a bitch.

Nancy looked at Clark imploringly. “Do something!”

“Like what? It’s nothing to do with us. Let’s just keep our heads down.”

“That man needs help.”

“Not
our
help.”

Nancy looked at her husband as if her were a stranger. Her mouth fell open but she didn’t talk. Instead, she shoved Clark aside and went to help the man herself. She shoved the teenager aside, catching him enough by surprise that he stumbled. He raised a fist but stopped when he saw she was a woman. Least he had that tiny amount of honour.

“Leave him alone, you animal,” she growled.

The teenager looked down at the old man and sneered. “This fucker used to shag my mum before she caught him cheating on her.”

Nancy stood between the older man and the teenager. “And you think that because things are chaotic you can take advantage and attack him?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

“Well, you can’t. If we all turn on each other, we’re screwed. Just because the police are busy right now, doesn’t mean the laws don’t apply.”

“Look around you, lady. There is no law anymore. I can do whatever the fuck I want. Who’s going to stop me?”

Nancy took a step towards the teenager. “I will.”

The youngsters chuckled. “Good luck with that. Think I can handle one bitch.”

“And her husband,” said Clark, moving up beside her. “I might not look like much, but you wanna see me go when some little fuckwit threatens my wife.”

The teenager glared, glanced at the older man still moaning on the floor, and then huffed. “Watch your backs.”

Clark went to hold Nancy as the teenagers stomped away, but she ducked and went to help the injured man. “You okay, sir?”

It obviously hurt him to talk, but he clutched his ribs and nodded. “Yes, thank you. I understand the boy being angry. What he said is true.”

Nancy helped the man to his feet. “Doesn’t give him the right to hurt you.”

“Thank you for helping me. Nobody else seemed to care.”

Nancy looked around at the other people, some of them watching but most too possessed by their own situations. “I can’t believe people are acting like this. Don’t they understand what’s going on?”

The injured man nodded. “I think it’s because they understand very well that they are acting like this. What the boy said is true, the rules don’t matter much right now. We’re going to be as much a threat to ourselves as the monsters.”

Clark sighed.

Nancy shook her head. “I won’t let that happen.”

The injured man offered out his hand. “Name’s George, and if you need my help just let me know. I’m from Lewiston, and I know some of the people here—evidently.”

Nancy shook the man’s hand and smiled. “I do need your help, George. First, I need you to find me a phone. Then, I want you to gather all of the people you know that don’t want to attack you. If I’m stuck in this mess for a while at least, then I am going to see people behave.”

“What are you planning, Nancy?” asked Clark.

She looked at her husband and wished he was stronger. “If the police are gone, then we will just have to police ourselves. Time to stop being a witness and start being a doer.”

Clark did not look happy, but George smiled.