The Gates: An Apocalyptic Novel (27 page)

“I will show you pain you cannot imagine.”

David chuckled. “I’m thinking you can’t get back
to your true body without doing another one of your nasty spells, but how are
you going to manage that with no sight?” He moved around behind Andras. “Am I
right?”

Andras spun around, getting frustrated. “I will
bathe in your blood!”

“Your brother’s name was Qemuel?”

“Qemuel, The Great and Risen.”

David moved around behind Andras again. “He said
you were vulnerable in a human body.”

Andras swiped at the air, but got nowhere near
hitting David. David crept back towards the front of the office. A coat rack
stood beside the door. Somebody had left a long golfing umbrella hanging from
one of the arms, and David unhooked it carefully.

Andras swiped at the air again, but was still nowhere
near. He’d begun to rave and rant like a maniac. “I’ll grind your bones into
dust, you maggot. You seek to mock me? I am Andras, Marquis of Hell.”

“And I’m David Davids, reporting to you live.” He
used the umbrella’s crooked handle to hook Andras’s ankle and yank the demon
off his feet. He hit his head on the desk hard enough to leave him stunned.”

David’s face still flared with agony, but he
couldn’t help but grin as he swung the umbrella like a golf club and struck Andras
under the chin. The demon moaned and grabbed his face.

“That’s the problem when you inhabit a human body,
Andras, dear boy: We’re all so weak and mushy.”

Andras clawed at the air blindly.

David hit him again with the umbrella. “If I kill
you, what will happen?”

“You cannot kill what cannot die.”

“You’ll go back to your body, won’t you? If I kill
you, I’ll release you. Wouldn’t want to be doing that. Would be a terrible
waste of intel. I think you owe us after all the spying you’ve been doing.”

Andras leapt to his feet like a cat and swung for David,
almost hitting him this time. “Let’s finish this,” he hissed. “I cannot bear
the stench of humanity any longer.”

David swung the umbrella at Andras’s head, but
this time, Andras snatched at it and yanked David towards him. When Andras dug
out one of his eyeballs, he screamed so hard he almost lost consciousness. In
desperation, he forced the umbrella upwards under Andras’s chin, hard enough to
bury itself in his neck. It was enough to get the demon to retreat.

David staggered backwards, palming at his ruined eye,
which was now an empty socket.

“An eye for an eye.” Andras sniggered over by the
door. David choked back his torment and reminded himself what would happen if
he gave up. “I took both of your eyes, you son-of-a-bitch, so you’re still the
one losing.”

“Then I have work to do.” Andras came forward
again, but stopped when the door to the office opened.

“David?” came a meek little voice.

David’s heart leapt into his chest when he saw Alice
standing there. “Alice, get out of here, now!”

“But Carol is looking for—”

Alice screamed.

Andras grabbed her around the throat and held her
in front of him. “Just what I needed,” he said. “I can use her guts to make a
spell and get me back to where I belong.”

“Let her go,” David warned.

“I don’t think I will. In fact, I think I’ll let
you watch with your one good eye, while I twist her head off.”

“Just let her go!”

Alice stopped screaming and went completely silent,
like she had after her brother died. She looked at David with her lower lip
trembling.

David smiled at her, despite it causing him agony
and his ruined face no doubt scaring her. “Don’t you worry about me,
sweetheart. Everything is okay.”

“No,” said Andras. “The time has come for little
children to learn about the horrors of the world. There are no heroes, only
blood and death.”

Alice panted, not fear in her eyes, but anger.
“Yes, there
are
heroes.”

Andras chuckled. “No, there isn’t, child. There
are only monsters, like me.”

“You’re wrong. My brother was hero. His name was
Kyle.” She lifted her foot into the air and stomped hard on Andras’s shin. He
let go of her and hopped on one foot as his hands went to his injured leg.

“You little shit!”

David reached out his hand. “Alice, come to me.
Quick!”

Alice ran to his side, and once she was safe, he
sprinted forward and drove the metal tip of his umbrella right into Andras’s
open mouth. He shoved the demon backwards, through the main office, and into
the reception, driving the umbrella deeper and deeper into his throat as they
picked up speed.

Out the office’s exit. Across the hallway.

The open stairwell lay just ahead.

Andras tried to get his balance, but David kept on
shoving him back until he struck the safety railing over the stairwell. They
had enough speed that Andras went right up over it. He managed to cling on for
a moment, but David was the one with all the leverage and grabbed a hold of the
demon’s wrist. He glared into his face. “Back to Hell with you.”

Andras laughed, and actually threw himself
backwards. He wanted death, wanted the release that would send him back to his
true body. He fell from the second floor and hit the ground below, letting out
an endless wail as the air escaped his compressed lungs.

David turned to find Alice coming out of the
office behind him. “Get back to Carol,” he said. “I’ll be right up.”

Alice nodded and ran up the stairs.

David headed down to where Andras lay at the
bottom, gasping for breath. The demon’s body was twisted and broken, and the
pain on his face was a joy to behold for David.

“Hurts, doesn’t it? I broke my wrist once playing
badminton. Ached like buggery for almost two years. I can only imagine what a
broken back must feel like. Next time, throw yourself from a little higher up
to get the job done.”

Andras struggled to move, but could barely even lift
his neck. “M-maggot.”

“You’re the one on the ground.”

“I will-”

“Yes, yes, I know: You’re going to do unspeakable
things to me. I’m terribly frightened, but right now, you’re all but paralysed.
I’m thinking, with a little tender loving care, we can keep you alive for some
time yet. I’ll make sure you’re right at home. You can have a front row seat,
while we help save the world.”

Andras struggled, but could only flop like a beached
salmon. “Let me die.”

David sneered, ignoring the sharp pains coming
from every inch of skin on his face. “Now why would I do that? I’m not a
monster.” He stamped on one of Andras’s lifeless legs and broke the shinbone.
“Well, maybe just a smidge.”

He grabbed Andras by the arms and dragged him up
the stairs, being as clumsy and careless as he could. By the time Andras reached
the top, he was begging for mercy.

Night fell, and all was
quiet. Rick had just dragged the last of the dead demons into the driveway, and
had returned to Daniel, who still slept fitfully on the couch. The Fallen Angel
was in and out of consciousness, and Rick wasn’t sure he would ever wake up.
Daniel was one of the good guys—had all but proved it—and if he died, then Rick
would be left alone and clueless.

He sat down at his piano and placed a glass of water
on the lid. The whisky had all been used to make Molotov cocktails, but even if
he’d had some left, he would have chosen water.

He thought about his brother, and Maddy, and
Diane. He hoped that they had made it someplace safe, but whether there even
was anywhere safe to go was a major question. His laptop had been in the
kitchen during his fight with Khallutush and hadn’t made it. Nor did the phone
or television work anymore. The power and water were still on, but he expected
to lose them eventually too. Whoever was in charge of such things, had probably
died or scattered—no blue-collar worker would stick around and do their job
while the world ended. Everybody had a family to get to, somewhere. Everyone,
that was, except for Rick. His only family was a brother, whom he rarely even
liked and would most likely never see again. He didn’t specifically mourn the
loss of his brother, but the bond of having somebody close would be missed. Rick
was used to loneliness, but he’d never endured what he was feeling now: abandonment.
The world had left him. The one thing left in his life that could bring him comfort
was his piano—but he only had one hand with which to play. He looked at his
crushed fingers and wept, but then he looked at his trembling right hand and
realised that he was blessed to be left with anything at all.

Fingertips of his good hand resting on the keys, Rick
held his breath. Always a twinge of excitement before playing the first note,
and now was no different, but there was a feeling of trepidation also—he would
have to play one-handed for the first time in his life, and wasn’t sure he
could do it. A single hand with which to create something living, amidst all of
the death. One hand to breathe life to music.

He started playing.

House of the Rising Sun.

He played flawlessly.

The melody took him away, carried his mind to that
ethereal place where all great music comes from.

“That’s pretty good. Ever think about doing it professionally?”

Rick’s fingers leapt off the keys and hung in the
air. He spun around and saw his brother standing in the living room. “Keith?”

“Yep. I didn’t think you’d made it.”

“I kind of didn’t,” said Rick. “What are you doing
here?”

Maddy and Diane walked in and joined Keith. All
three of them looked weary and tired.

“Hi, Rick,” said Maddy. “We came back.”

Rick didn’t understand. “Why?”

“Because there’s nowhere to go.” Keith let out a
heavy sigh. “We tried to make for the motorway, but there are wrecks
everywhere. People are fighting in the streets, and there are still demons all
over the place. We’d never make it to the coast. We thought our little battle
was special, but it’s happening everywhere.”

Rick glanced at Maddy. “Your wedding ring?”

She shrugged. “I thought it was important, but
after what I saw out there, I’ve realised that there’s no point holding on to
the past. My husband is gone, but I’m still here. There are better ways to
honour him than getting myself killed.”

“We came back here to stay safe behind the gates,”
said Keith. “Never expected to find you home.”

“I never expected visitors.”

Maddy came over to the piano and hugged him. “I’m
so glad you’re okay, Rick.”

“Likewise. Does anybody have a plan on what to do
next?”

“We managed to get some supplies at a corner
shop,” Diane answered, “but not much.”

“We have a few days,” said Maddy. “I just want to
rest for now, figure it all out in the morning. Try to find some answers.”

Rick glanced across at Daniel, still unconscious
on the couch. The only answers they could hope to get would likely come from
him—one of
them
—so they should all pray that he made it through. For now,
Rick decided to keep Daniel’s secret. Let the poor angel sleep.

“It’s nice to have company.” Rick waved an arm.
“Make yourselves at home.”

“I’ll put the kettle on,” said Diane, heading
towards the kitchen.

Maddy followed. “I’ll help her.”

“Excuse the mess,” Rick warned them.

“Looks like a whirlwind hit this place,” Keith
commented as he looked at the broken furniture and bloodstains in the living
room.

“Yeah, it’s been Hell, and I think I lost my hand.
Hey, speaking of hands, what’s that in yours?”

Keith looked down at the slim object in his hand like
he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh, yeah, well… The garage was still open,
and I thought you were…. Well, you know. There were plenty, so hope you don’t
mind.”

Rick stared at the portrait of his face on the
album cover in his brother’s hand and frowned. “You took one of my CDs? Why?”

Keith blushed, shuffled his feet. “I didn’t think
I’d ever see you again. Wanted something to remember you by.”

“A picture of me with pink hair and a cheesy
grin?”

“A picture from when I was proud of you.”

“You’ve never been proud of me, Keith.”

“Yes, I have. Just never wanted to admit it to
myself, until now. I’m proud to call you my brother. I think losing Marcy and
Max has put things into perspective for me. Family matters. We survived the end
of the world together, Rick.”

“Not yet we haven’t. And you don’t know Marcy and
Max are gone. We’ll find a way to get to them.”

Keith nodded. “Bring it on, I say. Those demons
will have to be crazy to mess with a chartered accountant and a fading pop
star.”

“And a paramedic,” shouted Maddy from the kitchen.

“A barmaid too,” came Diane’s voice.

Rick and Keith looked at each other and chuckled.

“Then I guess we have our team,” said Rick. “Now
we just need some theme music.” He turned around and placed his fingers over
the keys. “Any suggestions?”

Maddy and Diane came in with the piping hot brews.
“Surprise us,” said Maddy.

Rick thought for a moment, then came upon the
perfect song for the situation. He put the electricity in his fingertips to
work and started to play. The melody was perfect.

The Final Countdown.

Civilisation seeped into
view on the horizon, and the featureless browns of the desert started to share
the landscape with patches of green and the straight lines of sun-baked
concrete. It had taken almost twenty hours of continuous driving, but they had
made it across the Turkish border. They found the country in disarray. Word had
arrived that Istanbul was under siege, and Ankara, in the North West, was
assumed to be next. The Turkish armed forces were everywhere, a disorderly mess
that fought side by side with local militia, police, and the bravest civilians.
The whole country was ready for war, but no one seemed to know quite what to
do.

Tony and his men ran out of petrol just south of Osmaniye.
Seeing the roads clogged with traffic and wrecked vehicles, they headed west on
foot, until they found a couple of civilians on scooters. It pained Tony to do
it, but he threw the young men to the ground and took their vehicles from them.
The four soldiers doubled up on the two bikes and took off as fast as they
could, dodging around the crawling traffic whenever they could see a gap. Many
of the civilians walked barefooted, climbing up buildings or hanging from
streetlights. It was a free for all. Everybody wanted to find somewhere safe to
dig in. High ground seemed to be most desirable, and people fought to get to
the rooftops. They did not understand how little good it would do them when the
demons arrived.

With the underpowered scooters, the journey to Incirlik
Air Base took a little over six hours. When they passed through the green
pastures and farmland and finally reached the Air Force installation, it was like
witnessing a miracle. Planes flew in and out of the runways with amazing
regularity, splitting the air with their deafening roars every couple of
minutes. American soldiers hurried about, like worker ants, carrying weapons or
loading up vehicles. The place was alive.

Tony was halted at the gate and had to give the
names of him and his men, along with their ranks and service numbers. They were
British soldiers, not American, which meant it took over thirty minutes for
them to get clearance to enter. Once they had, they were warmly welcomed by a
United States Air Force Colonel. The officer had unkempt grey sideburns peeking
out from beneath his cap, and a fuzzy brown moustache.

“Colonel Chase,” he said. “A pleasure to meet you
fine gentleman. You told my sentries that you closed a gate. We got word of it
yesterday, but we were unsure whether to believe it or not. Is it true?”

Tony nodded. “It opened in the Syrian Desert, but
it’s closed now. How many more are there?”

The colonel wore a grave expression as he spoke.
“Over six-thou of them. It’s bad, Staff Sergeant.”

“I gathered that. Sounds like we’re pretty much fucked.”

“If you know how we can close those ungodly gates,
then we have a fighting chance at least.”

So Tony told the colonel what he knew—explaining
how Aymun had thrown himself through one of the gates, and that the next thing
anybody knew, it was collapsing in on itself like a faulty firework. The colonel
remained silent the whole time he listened, expressionless but for the fleeting
excited movements of his bushy eyebrows. When Tony finished, the U.S. Air Force
Officer let out a long, weary sigh and shook his head. “So, to close the gates,
men and woman must give their lives? I’ve spent the last decade fighting
martyrs and suicide fighters, and now that’s exactly what we need. Lord, if
life isn’t ironic.”

“People are already giving their lives,” Tony
remarked. “Every second, by the sounds of things.”

“That they are, Staff Sergeant, but not voluntarily.
I’m not sure there’ll be many queuing up to sign on for such a task.”

“They won’t,” agreed Tony, “but in the heat of
battle, you’ll find your heroes. My men did, and it was a Syrian named Aymun. As
long as we spread word of how to close the gates, you’ll be making sure people
know what to do when things are hopeless. Aymun died so that the rest of us have
a chance to turn things around. There’ll be others like him.”

The colonel lifted his chin and nodded proudly. “I
hope you’re right, Staff Sergeant. I’ll get you and your men back home as soon
as I am physically able, but I hope you can appreciate the difficulty that
entails at the present moment.”

Tony waved a hand. “We’ll go wherever we’re most
needed. I think home just got a whole lot bigger. Time to stop thinking in
terms of boundaries and realise that we’re all in this together.”

“Men fight for flags better than they fight for
their fellow man,” said the colonel.

“It’s time for a change,” said Tony.

“Perhaps you’re right—in fact, I hope very much
that you are. For now, make yourself comfortable. You and your men are my
personal guests, so present yourself to the Administration department as such, and
they’ll find you somewhere to rest up. I imagine you’re starving.”

“Bleedin’ famished, sir.”

The American colonel looked bemused and let out a
hearty chuckle. “You and your lads are safe, for now, Staff Sergeant, so make
the most of the rest. I’m sure there’ll be more battles ahead. Let’s hope we can
win them.”

Tony looked back at his three remaining,
battle-beaten men and grunted. “Or lose well enough to make the enemy regret
winning.”

“I’ll catch up with you later, Staff Sergeant. I
have duties…”

“We can sort ourselves out. Thank you, Colonel. Get
that information spread to every corner of the world. More of those gates get
closed, the better.”

The officer saluted and Tony did the same. Then
the American turned on his heel and marched away. Tony joined his men, who were
sitting on top of an ammo crate. There was a group of U.S. airmen nearby
whispering amongst themselves. Word had already got out that these were the
British soldiers who had closed the gate in the Syrian Desert. The Yanks were
looking at them like revered war heroes.

Corporal Rose got up and stood to attention. The
two privates followed suit.

“Stand down, men. I’m not a bloody officer, nor
shall I ever be. I’m a squaddie like the three of you and damn proud I am, to
have crossed the desert with you lads. We just left Hell lying in our wake. We
kicked a bunch of demons’ arses and wiped our boots on their faces—and there’s gunna
be a fuck-load more arses need kicking in the days to come, so we need to be
ready. The world is at war. Not World War III, but the war that will decide
whether mankind finishes its run right here and now, or if it lasts another ten
thousand years. Our enemy is terrifying, and worse than anything mankind has
ever faced, but we can make it bleed, and we can make it dead. Our enemy is
strong, but we are stronger—we are men. Our enemy are demons from the pits of Hell,
but we are British soldiers, and we are men. The world needs heroes, and I’m
looking at three of the best right now. Don’t lose heart, and don’t think too
hard. England is waiting for us, but there’s a war to win first. I will stand
beside you in the fight ahead, and I ask that you stand by me.”

“Fucking aye, ya crazy bastard,” said Corporal
Rose. “I’ll follow you straight to Hell if you ask me to, Staffie.”

The two privates said much the same thing.

“Good,” said Tony, “then let’s go find out where
the Yanks eat their grub and stuff our faces full of their hamburgers. It might
be the last good meal we have for a long time. We’ll be dining on our enemy’s
blood before long.”

What Tony didn’t voice out loud was:
Either
that, or they’ll be dining on ours.

The four British soldiers crossed the American Air
Force base, focused only on their appetites. There would be time enough to
worry about the fate of mankind tomorrow, for tomorrow, they would fight again.
Tonight, they would rest.