The Gates: An Apocalyptic Novel (6 page)

“
Negative. Over
.”

Guy stamped his foot. “Goddamn it, man. People are
drowning in the Hudson River. Are you telling me to leave American civilians to
die?”

There was silence on the line. Then came a shaky
reply, “You are in command of the Hatchet, Captain Granger. Do as you will.”

The line went dead.

Guy clenched his jaw and thought things through.
He didn’t understand what had happened in Manhattan, but Command had ordered
him to redirect to Norfolk. The Navy had taken control, and it would be foolish
to disobey them.

People continued hurling themselves into the
Hudson.

The Navy took lives. The Coast Guard saved them.

Guy made up his mind. “I want two teams of eight in
Rapid 1 and Rapid 2. There are too many birds in the sky to risk launching the
Jayhawk, so we concentrate on the people in the river. Tosco, get men on the .50
cals this second, but they don’t start firing without my word. If there are
enemies in the city, I want to be prepared.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Tosco saluted, turned on his
heel, and raced to put words into action.

Guy turned to Frank next. “What are these people
so afraid of? Do you have any idea what’s happening?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it, Captain. There
are people on the docks with limbs missing. It’s a war zone.”

It wasn’t an exaggeration. Even now, Guy could see
mangled men and women throwing themselves into the water rather than facing
whatever was occurring behind them. They were drowning quicker than he could
spot them. “We need to move fast.”

Frank placed a hand on Guy’s shoulder and squeezed.
“Aye, aye, Captain.”

***

Considering half the men
serving aboard the Hatchet had never seen real action, they carried themselves
well. The rapid response boats dropped down onto the water and were away in
moments. Each sailor took a firearm, but only a handgun—rifles would only
frighten the civilians more. If bigger weapons were needed, the boats would
return to ship.

Within ten minutes, the two rescue crafts were
packed full of half-drowned people and on their way home. The first groups of
survivors were laid down on the launch deck and the ship’s doctor, Gonzalez—a loaner
from the U.S. Public Health Service—checked them over. The healthiest survivor was
escorted to the pilothouse and brought before Guy. The teenage
Avengers
fan—judging by his garish t-shirt—was stained with blood and mucky with Hudson
water, but he was free from injury aside from a superficial gash across his
left brow. Blood had leaked into his left eye and dried so that it was now
stuck half-closed. His long hair was so filthy that it appeared brown when it
was probably ash blond.

Guy handed the kid a coffee. “What’s your name,
sir?”

“Simon.”

“Hello, Simon. I am Captain Guy Granger, and this
is my ship. You are currently in the care of the United States Coast Guard. Are
you able to tell me what happened?”

“No. I mean…
Yes
, but you won’t believe me.
It’s crazy.”

“Allow me to be the judge of that. Please, tell me
as best you can.”

“Monsters.”

Guy leaned forward to hear more. “Monsters?”

“Yeah, and I don’t mean figuratively. That black
stone in the park opened a big, glowing gate and something came through. A
monster, twenty feet tall with wings.”

Guy cleared his throat. “Did you say,
wings
?”

“Yeah, but they were all burned up and useless.
Just bones, really, but you can tell they used to be wings.”

“You’re saying that Manhattan was attacked by a
giant monster? Like, Godzilla or something?”

Nobody in the room laughed. There had been too
much bloodshed. The kid telling the story was deadly serious, and because of
that they were able to stay focused on what he was saying—as ludicrous as it
sounded. “I know it sounds crazy,” the kid admitted, “but it’s the God’s
honest. That black stone opened some kind of gate, and the Devil came through.
It’s Lucifer, dude. The end of the world, and we’re all screwed.”

Guy exchanged a glance with Frank that told him
they were both thinking the same thing. The kid was suffering with shock. Nothing
could be gained by further questioning. “Okay, Simon,” said Guy. “One of my men
will take you back outside for treatment. We’ll get you back on land someplace
safe as soon as we can.”

Simon nodded and stood up, but before he allowed
himself to be led away, he turned back to Guy. “I haven’t told you everything. After
the Devil came through, there was an army.”

Guy folded his arms and gave the kid his
attention. “Tell me about the army.”

“Men, like you and me, dude, but all burned up, like
they just stepped out of a fire. They came right out of the gate in a big group
and started attacking everyone. I was working at an office on 65
^th
Street—sixteenth floor. I saw it all.”

“Why did you leave?”

The kid looked sad. “Because my girlfriend works
at the zoo. I wanted to get to her. I… I still don’t know if she’s okay.”

Guy put his hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Give your
girlfriend’s details to one of my men, and we’ll see what we can do.”

“Thanks, dude—uh, Captain.”

“You can call me Guy.”

Simon nodded, then allowed himself to be led away
like a child.

“What do you make of the kid?” Frank asked Guy.

“I have no idea.”

“It must be shock,” Tosco added. “Unless we’re to
believe that the Devil has come to New York.”

Guy actually chuckled at that, but then felt bad
for doing so. “Whatever the truth, we can assume it started in Central Park and
spread from there. Perhaps that stone they found this morning really is to
blame. It seems too much of a coincidence to be otherwise.”

Frank groaned. “Then what of all the other stones
they discovered? Is this happening everywhere?”

Tosco covered his mouth and gasped. “You’re right!
I need to call my wife. The men need to check on their families.”

Guy shot him down immediately, even though part of
him was desperate to agree. Guy had two kids and an ex-wife, and would love
nothing more than to speak to them right now, but he had a duty as well. That duty
was the reason Alice and Kyle barely spoke to him anymore. He hoped, one day,
his children would respect him for his dedication to his job. “Lieutenant, our
only priority is the harbour. We can help these people
,
but we can’t
help our families—we can only pray that they are safe.”

Tosco looked to argue, but glanced at Frank and seemed
to think better of it. “Okay, I’ll go check on the progress of Rapid 1 and 2.
They should be heading back with more civilians.”

At that moment, the radio squawked.

“Rapid 1 to Hatchet. Over.”

 Guy grabbed the intercom. “Captain Granger.
Over.”

“We’re under attack. Repeat: we’re under attack.
Help. Hello. Over. Help. Over.” The voice on the line was frantic and
struggling to maintain radio protocol. Never a good sign.

“Who is attacking you, Rapid 1? Over.”

“You can smell their flesh on fire, even in the water.
They’re in the harbour… dragging… dragging people under. Burned… They’re so badly
burned. They pulled Williams and Biggins overboard. We’re returning fire, but they
keep popping up out of the river… They keep grabbing us. Oh God. Ensign Smith
is wounded, she needs help. Lost visual with Rapid 2…. Saw them being boarded.
Permission to retreat. Over. Please help. Over. Over.”

Guy opened all channels and shouted his command. “All
units, get the hell out of there! Rapid 2, if you’re reading me, get out of
there now! All personnel return to the Hatchet ASAP! Return to ship immediately!”
He turned to the Lieutenant. “Tosco put those MGs to good use. Over.”

“He said they were burned,” Frank said in a
haunted tone.

“Yes, I heard him,” said Guy.

“So do we take what Simon told us as truth? He
said there was an army of burned men.”

“I think we have to take him seriously until we know
different.”

Frank shook his head and swallowed loudly. “Then
does that mean the Devil really is stomping around Central Park?”

“Either it’s the Devil,” said Guy, “or something
that looks a lot like him.”

After learning that his
older brother planned on staying with him for a while, Rick had needed some
air. That was why they were heading on over to The Warren, a local inn just a
short walk down the road from where Rick lived. It was early evening, warm and
balmy, and so the perfect night for a pint down the pub. When Rick thought
about it, he realised it had been months since he’d last had a drink outside
his house.

The Warren came into view as they rounded a bend
in the country road. The Tudor building was as quintessential as an old English
pub could be, and the amber glow of the setting sun made it blur like an oil
painting.

Braaaarr…

Rick and Keith had to hop back into the hedges as
a red transit van whizzed past them. The limit was 30 mph, but the driver
seemed to think otherwise.

“Someone’s in a hurry.” Rick tutted.

“Probably forgot to pick his wife up from spinning
class,” said Keith as they cautiously crossed the road and headed into the
pub’s car park. “So, you drink at this place often?”

“No, I haven’t been here in a couple months. It’s
a nice place though. Wood burning fires and horse brasses, that kind of place.”

“A dusty old relic, you mean?”

“What’s wrong with the way things were?”

“Huh, you
would
say that.”

Rick frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’re always looking fondly backwards instead of
brightly forward. It holds you back.”

Rick ignored the comment and headed inside the
pub. Warm shadows embraced him as he left the sunlight and approached the old
oak bar in the centre of the room. A single barmaid stood behind the brass taps
and smiled as he approached. “What can I get you gents?”

“I’ll have a pint of lager, please. What do you
want, Keith?”

Keith winked at the barmaid and said, “I’ll have a
large cognac, please, sweetheart.”

There was a brief flicker of contempt in the
barmaid’s eyes, but she nodded politely and went to get the drinks.

Rick turned to his brother. “Thought you were off
the booze.”

“Got a taste for it after that tipple at yours.” He
leant on the bar and looked around. “You know, this might be my kind of place
after all.”

Rick followed his brother’s gaze over to a suited
businessman sitting next to an older man in a tweed jacket who was reading a
broadsheet newspaper. “You mean, because the people who drink here are snooty?”

“Not at all, not at all. I just like the
atmosphere. Bet it’s lovely in the winter with the fires going. It must get all
sorts in here—farmers, vicars, local doctors. Not like the pubs you get in the
city. Yes, this is my kind of place all right.”

The barmaid returned with their drinks, and Rick
paid her. Then they headed around the corner of the bar to a seating area with
sofas and a television. This part of the pub was busier, and a group had
assembled in front of the plasma screen.

“Evening,” said Keith, sipping his cognac before
he’d even sat down.

“Sshh! Be quiet,” someone chided.

Keith frowned at his brother. “Friendly place
you’ve brought me to.”

Rick glanced at the television to see what had
everybody’s attention and saw it was the news. Looked like something had
happened in America. Possibly New York. A young brunette stood at the edge of
the assembled group, arms folded and mouth wide in horror. Rick moved up beside
her and gently got her attention. “What’s happening?”

“There’s been an attack on America. It’s going on
right now.”

“Oh Jesus, really?”

The young woman nodded, then gave Rick that odd look
of recognition he was used to, and always dreaded. “Do I know you?” she asked.

“It’s possible,” he said glumly.

Something seemed to click into place, and her face
lit up. “You’re that singer, Rick Bastion. Cross to Bear, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

It surprised him when she said, “Cool song.”

“Yes, if you like formulaic pop music,” Keith
butted in then offered his hand. “I’m Rick’s big brother, Keith.”

“Sarah.”

“Good to meet you, Sarah. Can I buy you a drink?”

Rick huffed. “Jesus, Keith. There’s been a
disaster, and you’re hitting on a girl ten years younger than you? And while
you’re married, too. Nice.”

Keith shot him a look of pure venom. “I was doing
no such thing. Just being polite. Some people like to make friends. That might seem
alien to you, Rick, seeing as how you choose to spend all of your time alone,
but the rest of us are more social.”

“You know nothing about me,” Rick muttered. “Anyway,
you still haven’t told me why you turned up on my doorstep.”

Sarah had been watching the short exchange, and
now she rolled her eyes. “They say it’s even worse than 9/11. It started in the
park where they found one of those weird black stones.”

Rick blinked. “Like the one in Crapstone?”

“Yes. The police have been up on that hill all
day, trying to work out what it is. Those stones just keep appearing out of
nowhere, and no one can move them. It’s scary.”

Rick was glad the anxious churning in his stomach
was not unwarranted, that others felt nervous too. “When I heard that old woman
had been murdered right next to one of them, I got a bad feeling.”

Sarah nodded, a lock of hazel hair falling loose
from behind her ear. She tucked it back again and said, “Me too.”

“Ssshhhh, we’re trying to listen,” someone said.

Rick shut up and watched the television along with
everybody else. Half of New York City was in flames. Cars piled up in the road,
and bodies littered the streets. Unusual for the news to be so graphic, but
there seemed to be nowhere to film that wouldn’t show some level of bloodshed.

Sarah covered her mouth like she was going to be
sick. “What are those things?”

It took a moment for Rick to spot what she was
referring to, but once he had he couldn’t focus on anything else. Amidst the
chaos was a surging mass of inhuman creatures. They resembled men, but looked
like they’d stumbled right out of an inferno. Like locust, they enveloped the
city streets and eviscerated everyone in their way. The citizens of New York
were so desperate to escape that they were launching themselves right off the
docks into the river. Dozens and dozens of boats headed out to sea while a
single Coast Guard vessel slipped through in the opposite direction.

Rick tried to blink but couldn’t. “It’s a
bloodbath.”

Sarah was shaking her head, mascara running. “I’ve
never seen anything so horrible.”

“Least it’s them and not us,” said Keith.

Rick and Sarah both glanced at him in disgust. “Seriously,
Keith, that’s not a cool thing to say.”

“I just meant, it would be even more terrible if
it was happening here.”

Rick pictured the strange black stone found near the
body of Elizabeth Creasy and felt uneasy. Was a similar black stone responsible
for what was happening in New York? If so, then what would happen to the village
of Crapstone?

***

Twenty minutes later Rick and Keith had taken a
seat around a small round table with a wobbly leg. They were joined by Sarah
who, as it turned out, was a member of The Warren’s kitchen staff. She was
twenty-seven, but lived with her parents in the village since divorcing her
cheating husband a year ago. Her job at the pub was temporary while she decided
what she wanted to do. Rick enjoyed her company, but it also meant he couldn’t quiz
his brother about why he’d turned up out of the blue. Had Marcy kicked him out?
They had always seemed so close—she was as pretentious as he was.

“I hate it when things like this happen,” Sarah
said to them over their second round of drinks. “Whenever something terrible
happens on the news, I can’t help thinking about the children—how frightened
they must be. I imagine them getting taken into a room and told that their
daddies won’t be coming home, or that mummy has been hurt. It’s just so
horrible.”

Rick sipped his beer, trying to pace himself. He
was a sloppy drunk, which was why he usually drank alone at home. That didn’t
concern his brother though; Keith was ready for his next cognac—added to Rick’s
tab—shortly after starting his last.

“I still don’t understand what’s going on,” said
Rick. “Those monsters were attacking like an army.”

Keith rolled his eyes.

“No, he’s right,” said Sarah. “They
were
monsters.
All their skin had burned off, like they’d come straight out of Hell.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Keith. “There’s no such thing
as Hell.”

“There is,” said Rick, glancing at the television.
It had been running the same aerial shots of New York City for the last twenty minutes
now, and it was tough to endure. “I’m worried about the stone in Crapstone.
What if the same thing happens?”

Nobody said anything, not even Keith. In fact, the
entire pub was silent, except for the sombre tones of the television news
reporters. No one knew what to say. Silence seemed the only fitting statement.

It wasn’t until an hour later that anything new
happened.

“Help me!”

An injured woman staggered into the pub, her
cleavage exposed and covered in ragged claw marks. The side of her face was so badly
wounded that a section of her cheek was missing and revealed the teeth inside.
No sooner had the woman made it inside the pub than she collapsed in the middle
of the floor right in front of the bar. The businessman was the first to go to
her. He dropped down and lifted the woman’s head in his arms. “Somebody, call
an ambulance.”

The barmaid was on it, pulling a cordless phone
from under the bar and making the call. Rick ran to help the businessman, but
didn’t know what to do. The ragged wounds on her bare chest looked as if a
sharp fork had dragged through warm, flesh-coloured butter. Blood didn’t squirt
out so much as continuously oozed.

A coppery scent filled the bar.

“Do you know First Aid?” the businessman asked Rick.

“No, I don’t. We just need to keep her comfortable,
I think, until the ambulance arrives.”

“It’s on its way,” the barmaid shouted from behind
the bar. “They said ten minutes.”

The businessman shook his head. “I don’t think she
has that long.”

“Let’s just hope for the best,” said Rick.

“Oh God,” somebody cried out.

Rick arched his neck to look around. “What is it?”

It was Sarah. She was pointing at the television.
“Look!”

The news showed new scenes of devastation, but not
of New York. Another city was under attack—London.

The barmaid turned up the volume.

“
Oxford Street has been cordoned off as disaster
strikes the nation’s capital. Just moments ago, as a large crowd gathered, the
unidentified black stone, located this morning in the city’s busiest shopping
street, began to emit light. What happened next was something right out of a
nightmare. These scenes were captured less than five minutes ago.
”

The reporter disappeared, and video footage took
her place. It showed a glowing lasso of light emanating from a black stone in
the centre of the road. The lasso spread out into a wider circle and formed an archway.
There was no loss in quality as the first creature emerged onto Oxford Street.
It leapt at a nearby police officer and tore into the man’s neck with blackened
teeth. The crowd broke apart, screaming in terror, and people fought each other
to flee as more creatures poured through the archway behind them. An endless
stream of monsters appeared.

A legion of burned and twisted horrors.

The video ended and the news reporter returned. “
This
is happening in numerous locations. The mysterious black stones, recently
discovered throughout the country and the world, have opened, what appears to
be some kind of gateways, and an unknown enemy is pouring through. New York was
the first city under siege, but we can now confirm similar attacks in several
of the world’s major cities. The Armed Forces are mobilising, as are those of
other countries. The best thing to do right now is to stay indoors and stay
tuned to your televisions.”

Keith put his hands on his head. “Shit. I need to
call Marcy.”

“I need to call my mum,” said the barmaid.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” said Rick.

Sarah fainted.