Legion (An Apocalyptic Horror Novel) (Hell on Earth Book 2) (13 page)

“I haven’t seen the Four Horsemen yet.”

“Nor shall you, I am sure. Such things are simple allegory. What I believe, however, is that if there are forces of evil, then there is also good. If the devil has come to Earth, I believe wholeheartedly that the Messiah will follow. As bad as things seem, we may not have seen everything play out just yet.”

Richard patted the man’s knee. It seemed appropriate. “I can get on board with that.”

“Then there is hope.”

“It’s about all we have.”

Miles put his hand on top of Richard’s. “Feed yourself, Officer. You are our totem, and we need you strong.”

“Totem?”

“The focus of our collective spirits. People will follow you, gaining strength from your strength. Keep care of yourself. Go eat.”

He nodded. “A question first.”

Miles leant forward. “Yes?”

“Does this church have anything made of iron?”

Miles looked confused, yet he gave the matter some thought.

A short while later, Richard went outside. He was pleased to find a long, orderly queue outside the chip shop. People were calm. Yet, imagining how they would be during an attack made Richard shudder. Would they scream and run? Probably. Could he change it? Unlikely.

Perhaps though.

Richard bypassed the crowd and went to the barricade. He climbed up onto the scaffold and turned to face the queue. “Hi, hello.” He cleared his throat. “I would just like to address you all briefly, if that’s okay.”

People nodded. Some muttered
.

“Thank you. Many of you have already met me, but I would just like to introduce myself properly. I am Sergeant Richard Honeywell. Until the last few days, I worked at a desk and planned minor drug raids and arrests. I was never a soldier, and I can’t say I’ve ever been in real danger. I suspect that is true for most of us. Recently, I met a man who was a solider, however. He was at Hyde Park during last night’s attacks. Things went badly. London is abandoned—I don’t know if you already know that. The rest of the country is under threat too. It appears the enemy is everywhere.”

A few of the crowd whimpered. A mother cupped her son’s ears.

Jen looked up at him from the rear of the crowd. Dillon was eating a packet of crisps. Richard couldn’t help but look at them as he spoke. “Like many of you, I have a family to protect, and the urge to run away is strong. But there’s nowhere to run, I assure you. We will be forced to defend ourselves soon. Perhaps today. Eventually, those monsters we all saw on television will be here. What we do then will determine our futures. If we turn and run, the enemy will hunt us down and pick us off one by one. If we stand and fight…”

“Why would we stand and fight when the British Army couldn’t?” an older man shouted.

“Because you have no choice, sir. If you don’t fight, you will die. Maybe you’ll get to live a day longer by running, but you’ll die.”

More whimpers from the crowd. “Stand and fight, and we have a chance. If groups like us resist, our numbers will begin to add up. Maybe we won’t survive—I hate to say it—but if we take some of the enemy with us, we make it that much easier for the next group of people forced to defend themselves. We will prepare, and do our best to be ready, but I urge you to conquer your fear and fight those sons of bitches. They are here to exterminate us. They are here to kill our children and step over our corpses. Are we going to let them?”

“No,” said Shirley, giving Richard a supportive smile.

“Fuck no!” said Aaron, standing in the chip shop’s doorway. He wore an apron and held a ladle in his hand which he thrust into the air triumphantly.

“I’m with you,” shouted Jen.

“Me too,” said someone Richard didn’t recognise.

“What choice do we have?” cried someone else.

A couple more spoke out in support, but the rest of the crowd did nothing more than mumble. It was impossible to know what they would do, but Richard was confident he had done all he could. He’d explained the odds and what was required. It was down to them now.

“Good speech,” said Riaz once Richard had climbed down off the barricade. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For letting my hang-ups affect what you’re doing.”

Richard frowned at him. “Just tell me what the problem is Riaz.”

“My son was in the city. I haven’t heard from him since this began.”

Richard felt the news like a gut punch. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know you—”

“His mum and I are separated, but I visit him one weekend a month. Maybe we didn’t have the best father-son relationship, but he was my boy.”

“I understand. How old is he?”

“Six.”

“You must have been young?”

Riaz nodded. “I was twenty-two. Part of the reason it never worked out with Tariq’s mum. I was too involved in myself back then.”

Tariq
. Richard logged the name, wishing he knew more about his colleague. He patted him on the arm, but it was clear Riaz didn’t appreciate the contact. “Look, I can’t imagine what you must be feeling, but we are fighting here to stay alive. Tariq might still be out there. Give yourself a chance to find out.”

“I think I already know well enough.”

“Don’t give up on your son, Riaz. If you want to be a good father, don’t give up.”

“HELP! Please, help.”

Riaz and Richard looked around at the same time. The shouts came from beyond the barricade which was now too high to see above. Richard clambered back up onto the scaffold and looked towards the road. Two cars had pulled up on the curb, and people spilled out onto the pavement. The man shouting was covered in blood.

“Help us, please. We have an injured man with us.”

“Of course,” said Richard. “Let me make way for you.” He hopped back down from the barricade and grabbed Riaz. “Let’s move some of this out the way. We have people coming in.”

Several volunteers helped, and together they pulled back the scaffolding poles and other junk piled up on top of an old Rover shunted up against the chip shop’s wall. By the time Richard got another view of the road, seven people were standing there. Four women and two men. The two men carried a third between them—an injured man.

Glen.

Riaz spluttered with surprise. “Glen! What happened to him?”

The man who’d been shouting for help shook his head. “We don’t know. I found him lying by the side of the road. I was heading out of town, trying to find help. He’s in a bad way, but he told us to come find you all. Can we come in?”

“Yes!” cried Richard. “Come on in.”

They slid Glen across the Rover’s bonnet and allowed Riaz and Richard to grab a hold of him. While the newcomers climbed the barricade, Richard eased Glen onto the floor. He was muttering something.

Richard frowned. “What is it, Glen? Tell me what happened?”

“They… They’re here. They’re coming.”

Glen lost consciousness just as Miles arrived with the things Richard had asked for.

R
ick sat
at his piano but didn’t feel like playing. The time had come to say goodbye to his beloved baby grand and his vast Edwardian home. Time to say goodbye to his life. And maybe hello to his death.

Maybe then I’ll fade away

and not have to face the facts.

It’s not easy facing up when your whole world is black.

Of course, he wasn’t alone. His companions—Maddy, Diane, and his brother Keith—all paddled the same sinking boat. The world ended the moment demons and angels invaded it. That Rick had fought and survived while millions of others died was enough to keep him fighting. It was his duty. His companions felt the same way. None of them intended to accept death.

That was why they were leaving tonight beneath the cover of darkness. Rick’s home was surrounded by iron bars, but it had eventually been assaulted anyway. It was unsafe to remain, and their only chance of survival was to find help. Not that they were certain of finding any. Diane’s internet searches had grown bleaker by the minute, and only the
Echo
provided any meaningful hope. In the last few hours, their website had been down more often than it was up, but it was via the newspaper they had learned about the power of iron. The demons could not easily assail it and were injured by its touch.

The other ace in their pocket was asleep on the living room couch. Daniel was a Fallen Angel. It was from him they had learned what was happening. The black stones around the world had summoned portals to Hell, and the damned were coming through them to claim the earth as their own. In doing so, their leader, The Red Lord, hoped to force a confrontation with God himself.

Daniel was injured—possibly dying—and it was because he had given part of himself to bring Rick back from the dead after an ancient demon with long black hair had crushed his skull. Rick owed his life to the Fallen Angel.

Maddy came up beside Rick, a blank expression on her face that suggested she was thinking.

“You okay?” he asked her. “You’re thinking about your husband.” Maddy had wanted to go home to get her wedding ring, the only part of her deceased husband she could hold onto since his body was lost somewhere in the ruins of Milton Combe.

She sighed. “One day, I will go home and grieve for him properly.”

Rick smiled. “And I promise I will help you do just that.”

“Thanks, Rick. You going to play something?”

Rick looked at the ivory keys in front of him and reached out, fingers hovering. Instead of playing, he closed the lid. “My playing days are over. I’ve promised myself that one day, when all this is over, I’ll come back here and spend whatever days I have left playing music. Who knows, maybe I’ll even be a pop star again.”

“I’ll be first in line to buy your CD.”

“I’ve got our bags piled in the hallway,” said Keith, entering the living room. A large bruise stained his cheek from the last evening’s battle with the long-haired demon—which now lay dead in the garden along with several of its minions. The stench was growing pervasive.

Rick climbed up from his stool and forced himself not to glance back at his piano. He’d said his goodbyes. It was time to go. “I’m ready if you are.”

“We should get Diane to do one last check online,” said Maddy. “Check it’s still safe to head south.”

It was a good idea, so they went into Rick’s oak-timbered office where Diane was napping. When she noticed them, she started—everyone’s nerves were on edge—and they asked her to do another check of the internet.

“Sure,” she said, sleepily. “The connection is getting spotty, but I’ll give it a go.” She opened Rick’s laptop and tapped at the keyboard. “
The
Slough Echo
is still up,” she said a moment later.

“Any news?” asked Keith.

“Hold on, let me see. Yeah, Portsmouth is still a safe zone. The Army is being recalled from abroad, and that’s where they are coming in. Apparently, the
Echo
has a military liaison at their office who is keeping them in the loop about things. The information should be up to date, and… hey, listen to this, someone managed to close one of the gates in Syria.”

Keith frowned. “Syria? How does that help us?”

“Because it shows there are ways to hit them back,” said Rick. “It shows other people are still fighting.”

“Great. Another few thousand gates and we should be all back to normal.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “It’s better than nothing.”

Keith looked at his watch. “It’s almost ten PM. If we want to make the most of night cover, we should move. We make it to the motorway if we can, but if not we stick to the countryside.”

Keith thought he was in charge, as always, but Rick didn’t argue. What his brother was saying was sound. The motorways were potentially troublesome, but if they were free of demons, they would be the fastest route—with farmland to escape to on either side if they encountered danger.

They gathered in the hallway before the large front doors. For a time, Rick had been a hermit behind those heavy slabs of wood, a failed pop star too embarrassed to be seen in public. Now, he was a blooded warrior about to step out into the deadly wilderness. Each of them held weapons: Keith and Rick iron pokers, Diane a baseball bat, and Maddy wielded both an old field hockey stick and a chef’s knife.

“I still say we leave Daniel here,” said Keith, glowering back toward the living room.

Rick shook his head. “No way. He saved me.” The others didn’t know Daniel’s true nature—that he was inhuman—but Rick told them he had been rescued from certain death by the guy. Daniel was coming along, no matter what.

Keith huffed. “Fine, fine. He’ll slow us down something terrible, but I understand he’s one of us, I suppose.”

Not exactly
, thought Rick.

“I’ve put the wheelbarrow just outside,” said Maddy, “along with a duvet and pillow. He’ll be a bit cramped, but should be comfortable.”

Maddy was a paramedic. Rick was glad to have her along because she had a nurse’s compassion. “Thanks, Maddy. Keith, you want to give me a hand?”

Keith shrugged and followed after his brother. They approached Daniel on the sofa and picked him up between them like a length of old carpet. The Fallen Angel stirred momentarily, opening his eyes and staring at Rick, but then he went back to sleep.

“Guy’s as light as a feather,” said Keith. “That will make wheeling his arse around a little easier.”

Rick knew Daniel had possessed an anaemic hospital patient on the brink of death, so the lack of body weight was understandable. He also knew that if Daniel died, he would be whisked straight back to his prison cell in the lowest pits of hell. God had punished his revolting angels harshly, but betraying the Red Lord would bring Daniel even harsher punishments. Even Lucifer bowed to the mysterious power pulling the strings of this war.

Maddy unlocked the front doors while Keith and Rick carried the Fallen Angel to the awaiting wheelbarrow. He fit inside easily. Rick positioned the pillow behind his head.

It was time to go.

Rick took one last moment to appreciate the home he had spent the last six years living in—the symbol of the success he had once achieved. Its high, gabled roof had twin chimneys like ears on the head of a looming monster, yet it had only ever felt safe to Rick. The iron gates surrounding the property had saved their lives. 

Movement. A flicker of a shadow beyond the driveway floodlights.

Rick squinted. What the hell?

“Whoa, whoa,” Maddy cried.

Rick spun to see Daniel’s wheelbarrow tipping over. He acted quickly, threw out his hands to keep it steady. Soon as he had, his eyes went back to the end of the driveway. Had someone been there? Rick was certain he had seen a person.

But the stranger was now gone.

“You okay?” asked Keith, seeing his confused expression.

“Yeah,” said Rick. “I thought I saw someone.”

Keith looked concerned, scanned the gates nervously. “Who?”

“An old man… An old man sweeping.”

“You saw an old man?”

Rick felt stupid. “I thought I did. He had a broom, I think. I must... I must be seeing things.”

Keith grabbed his shoulder and looked at him. “You still okay to do this?”

Rick wasn’t sure. “Maybe I have a concussion or something. We can’t stay here any longer, though. We need to find help.”

Keith gave his shoulder a hearty pat. “Then let’s go.”

They moved down the driveway, trundling Daniel along in the wheelbarrow. Rick couldn’t help but look around anxiously. Couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been watching them. Watching them and sweeping the ground. 

As they passed out of the gates, Rick noticed a pile of dirt gathered on one side of the road along with a trail—like a broom had swept across it.

* * *

T
hey stopped
at a petrol station one hour after leaving the house. So far the going had been good. Although walking through the rural village streets resembled walking through the ruins of a sacked settlement, there had been no sign of demons—live ones at least. Their bodies lay all over the place. The problem was that for every demon corpse, there were five human ones. The sheer horror of it was what led Rick and his group to take a breather inside the petrol station.

Tears filled Maddy’s eyes, but she would not allow herself to sob. “I’m not sure I can cope with any more. Did you see… did you see that little girl?”

Everyone nodded. It had been impossible to miss the little blonde girl with bloody pigtails and two torn-off arms. Her body lay propped against a road sign like some kind of warning. The harsh glow of the nearby lamppost made her sallow cheeks almost translucent. A blonde woman lay dead beside the girl—perhaps her mother. Before moving on, Maddy lay the girl’s stiffened body in the grass. Even for a paramedic, it had proven too grizzly. She had barely said a word since.

Keith put down his iron poker and went to the petrol station’s buzzing refrigerator. He snatched a bottle of water and uncapped it. After taking a swig, he looked around. “Looks like people left everything and ran for their lives.”

“What else
could
they do?” said Diane, holding herself and stepping carefully. “People must have been so afraid. So many dead. No one was ready for any of this. I was training to be a childcare worker. I’m supposed to be spend my days in a nursery surrounded by laughing children, not walking through dead bodies.”

Maddy gave the girl a hug. “We’re alive, and so are other people, I’m sure. We will find them, I promise.”

Diane wiped at the tip of her nose. “Where have all the demons gone now? I mean the ones that were here in the village. They couldn’t all have been with the ones that attacked us. You think any are still here?”

“The demons are all assembling into armies,” said Keith. “The ones that attacked us must have come from the gate in Crapstone, but they only swept through here on their way to someplace else. We head south. We’ll be fine.”

Diane seemed unsure, but she nodded. Rick approximated the girl to a nervous bird, yet she had survived a lot and still placed one foot in front of the other. Diane was stronger than she realised.

“Let’s grab a few supplies,” said Keith, moving over to the confectionary aisle and gathering chocolate bars. With his large gut, Keith would last longest if they were forced to starve.

Fortunately, that didn’t seem like it would be the case. The petrol station was fully stocked, and it was reasonable to assume other places were too. If they died, it would be quick and painful and at the hands of a demon. Rick picked up a sausage roll and tore open the packet. When he bit into it, the lights winked out.

Diane moaned.

“There goes the power,” said Keith. “Bound to happen sooner or later.”

Rick swallowed the mouthful of pastry and wiped his mouth with the back of his jacket’s leather sleeve. “Does that mean the power stations are offline? Have things got even worse?”

Keith shrugged, like he knew it all and was tired of explaining. “More likely the grid has been compromised. Not like they can send an engineer to go fix a fallen power line at the moment. Better to switch it all off and divert power where it’s needed. This is the government making smart decisions. Somewhere, someone is still in charge.”

“I hope so,” said Rick, but wasn’t sure he believed it. More likely, the power stations were unstaffed, their engineers deserted or dead. Was the enemy smart enough to attack strategic targets? Had they knocked out the power on purpose?

The demon with the black hair had certainly been in possession of his wits. He had spoken to Rick, told him of the Red Lord’s plans. All of humanity gone.

Maddy picked up a couple of bottles of sports drink and took them over to Daniel, still unconscious in the wheelbarrow. “Hey, Daniel, can you wake up and take a sip of this?”

Daniel murmured.

“Daniel,” she said, shaking him gently. “We need to keep you hydrated. Can you just take a little bit of this, please?”

Daniel’s left eye peeled open, and his lips parted. Maddy placed the sports drink against his dry mouth and slowly tipped it in. After a few moments, he spluttered and began gulping thirstily.