The Devils Harvest: The End of All Flesh. (47 page)

Earth and stones rained down from the sky. There was a crater where the entrance was, but the craft was still intact. The entrance was blown away, ripping open a large section of the metal hull. Metal was twisted and bent upwards, revealing sparking wires and hissing steam from numerous pipes. But the rest of the ship stood the same as before. Tons of soil had been blow away, revealing more of the craft beneath.

But not for long.

The large cranes lights had been blown out. The towering metal structure was also bent double; its extended arm lay twisted on the steaming ground. The rest came crashing down, with a cacophony of twisted, screeching metal.

The other charges now went off; possibly the build up was still going on deep inside, because suddenly the silver hull seemed to shimmer for an instant, thousands of small cracks appearing on its pewter surface, that welled blinding white light, before the whole vessel exploded like a supernova going critical.

I was blown back, landing hard, knocking the wind out of me. I quickly rolled onto my front when I saw the debris raining down.

The ground finally stopped shaking, and I shook the mud and fragmented stones from my back. I slowly climbed to my unsteady feet. The wall I had been hiding behind was flattened, along with one whole section of the farmyard, from what I could see. Dust was still settling. Dense smoke was rising to replace it.

I looked across to where the craft had been imbedded in the earth. It was now a gaping hole, immense in size. Fires raged around its circumference. Sections of now blackened metal stuck out from the bubbling soil. Small avalanches of boiling mud ran down the pits deep sides.

Smoke churned out from the hole as if it led directly to hell and someone had just poured untold amounts of water on hells fiery furnaces.

I looked around for the remaining C4 box, but with the falling wall and billowing mud it had been covered over. I dug around on hands and knees, but couldn’t locate it.

Shit!

Amazingly the gun was still held in my shaking grasp.

Most of the surrounding area was destroyed. The trees were all flattened. Fires still burning here and there on what remained of the tree trunks. Stones lay scattered everywhere.
Was the farmyard flattened?
I couldn’t tell because of all the dust in the air, and the mud still falling, not to mention the churning smoke; as thick as fog.

I couldn’t believe I had just survived the explosion that had decimated the vicinity. Luck was on my side. Hopefully it would hold out for a little while longer.

I started picking my way towards where I believed the gateway was situated. Hopefully it had been melted under the intense onslaught. With that thought my hand flew to the amulet. It was still hanging from my neck, under my tracksuit top. I gave a sigh of relief.

Then something made me stop.

A noise resonated, almost beyond my hearing. It could just be made out above the sound of falling debris. It sounded like a million voices crying out in mixture of happiness and deep sorrow. Then from the dark pit a swirling mass of whitish green hazy figures started climbing its steep sides.

There were hundreds of wispy images pouring over its rim, soon becoming thousands. Naked figures walking in all directions. Tall ones, short ones, some looking like they were holding hands, and even babies. It was the souls of those that had been inside the vast holding tanks. As they walked twenty or so steps the figures started to fade and disappear – vanish. Merging to wherever the souls go to after death. It looked like a few even looked in my direction.

Animals also poured from the hole of all sizes and descriptions. Ghostly shadows of birds took to flight like a startled flock.

A man and a woman were stood directly ahead, holding hands. The man was holding a baby to his chest. The woman raised a hand in thanks, the man nodded. Then they walked a few steps before fading away.

That one instant gave me hope.

They might have invented our Gods for us, but those souls were heading somewhere. Wherever it was, it was better than becoming an alien races power source for their engines of war.

Hopefully, I wouldn’t find out too soon just where.

The Opening

I
could have stood and watched the ethereal images of those departing souls all night if I didn’t have a more pressing matter to attend to. One thing I did know was from that moment on death no longer frightened me. Even though I would rather not die anytime soon.

Just as that though was passing through my aching, tired brain, I felt a hand grip me around the throat with an unbelievable amount of strength. I was under no illusions that that hand could send me off in to the unknown if it so desired.

My eyes swivelled in their sockets to settle upon the remains of the bus driver, his already ripped open neck now had other injuries added to it. The upper side of his head was caved in, but no blood ran from the gapping wounds, because the host’s heart had stopped pumping long ago. His head must have been hit by flying debris, because one whole section of it was missing, with only a circle of bones protruding through the hanging flesh. It looked like he was wearing a skeletal crown.

The smoking mans one remaining bloodshot eye fixed upon my wide, frightened face.

“You fucking human,” he managed to squeeze between clenched teeth. I noticed the bottom half of his features, just above the rip in his neck, was pretty much unaffected by whatever had crushed his cranium in.

Then without another word he started to drag me, my feet raking along the ground. With my fists I punched as hard as I could. Then I tried gouging, but my fingers came in contact with sticky cold skin.
How do you hurt someone who’s already dead?

My pummelling had no effect on him, his hand was still clenched around my throat. I struggled for breath, having given up tossing my body around and concentrating on pulling as much air through my constricted airway as possible. My hands were now trying to remove his iron grip.

I could feel myself starting to slide into unconsciousness.

Inhale...

Exhale…

Stay awake you fucking pussy!

I was dragged bodily through the rubble that was once the outbuildings of the farmyard. To one side most of the large old farmhouse had collapsed in on itself. The wall running around the compound was flattened, and hardly any trees were left standing. Fires raged in some areas, greasy pitch-black smoke rising to meet the relentless heavy rain.

It looked like a theatre of war.

I noticed a few figures lying around in the debris. A couple midgets that were flattened by flying masonry. A mothman here and there, bloody stones lying beside them; the flying instruments of their death.

My worst fear though was still intact. The gateway seemed operational. The once gleaming surface was now pitted and scratched by flying stones, wood and twisted metal, but the overall structure looked unaffected.

I then realized where I was being dragged. The key pod. Smoker was still going to bring the others through.

I was still struggling to breathe; my vision was now spotted with black dots. Even so, with my last ounce of strength I tried to wiggle loose. To no avail.

My brain was seriously lacking oxygen.

Before I had time to struggle, time to defend myself, I was no longer in smoker’s grip, with a bone-crushing slam I was thrown into the cylindrical pod. Several ribs felt like they had broken from the jolt. The heavy black casing slammed shut around me.

I remember thinking I was back in my bedroom when I was nine. My older brother had jumped me as I walked in to change from my school uniform. Before I knew what was happening I found myself inside the smaller of our two wardrobes. Hardly being able to move, my breath seemingly restricted by the darkness and silence of my imagination. All the while my sadistic brother would be laughing, banging his fists on the wooden door.

My eyes refocused bringing me back to the moment at hand. My airway was now open, sucking in every atom of oxygen my lungs could hold. The spots faded. Fear now gripped my pounding heart.

A gap ran around the front of the pod, leaving me just enough room to see what was transpiring outside.

The old male farmer was walking about, kicking the bodies on the ground. None responded.

Smoker was standing in front of an elaborate panel of some kind. His putrid grey hands flicking unseen controls. He then stood back, standing into something. His eyes fixed on the outer ring of the smoking gateway.

A deep rumbling started, making the pod beneath my feet vibrate then jolt.

The ring started to turn, slowly at first, then at an incredible rate of speed. Another inner ring now activated, turning in the opposite direction. Around the outer unmoving section, large metal clamps unhooked, now protruding outwards. These then started to glow a green in colour, until the light was almost impossible to look at.

All the while I could feel myself become weaker and weaker. My life was being sucked from me. If only I had one more charge, to take the bastards with me.

My brain done one more calculation before it was about to be shut down.

I had two lumps of C4, one in each pocket. If I could only just reach the timers. The pod was a tight squeeze, but not tight enough to stop my body from wiggling around. Pulling at my arm with all the strength I had remaining, I forced my arm up. A crack resounded, the pressure had broken my humerus bone, now my soul was inching away, so was my life force. My body screamed in pain, but adrenaline is a powerful chemical, it washed away most of the excruciating throbbing, replacing it with sheer anger about what was happening to me.

It wasn’t like the movies, with the hero thinking about all those that would die because of his failure, it was a purely selfish thought. I didn’t think about what would happen if the gateway opened, about the billions that would perish. What did worry me was what was going to happen to me.

I don’t want to fucking die!

Why me? Why was I picked? Why couldn’t I have died peacefully at my desk, writing? Or in bed?

Fuck everything! Fuck them! Fuck the gods!

Fuck it!

Now or never. If I have to go, I’m gonna take some of the bastards with me!

My weak grasp wrapped around the plastic C4, my shaking fingers feeling the small timer. I had set enough to know what button was what without needing to see the small devise. I hit one minute – it was the smallest number that could be programmed in – and pressed the countdown timer switch. I just hoped I had a minute left.

With that done my arm now relaxed. Pain was shooting up and down my triceps brachii muscle and into my shoulder; I think when my bone broke it severed some of the muscles around it. But even so I almost felt relaxed.

The events leading to death are unique to everyone, so I couldn’t presume to know how others felt before breathing their last breath. But for me, once the last step had been taken, peace then engulfed me. I was content, knowing I had less than a minute left on this world.

I would soon be joining all those I had set free. I felt at ease. Strangely, for the first time in my life I felt ready for something I didn’t truly understand.

Was it this way for everyone? At the last moment did the body relax, give in to the inevitable?

A loud rushing sound brought me from my peaceful thoughts.

The gateway was opening.

The meter wide section between the outer and inner ring was sucking everything in, the smoke, loose debris, all flying into the spinning gap, then being crushed and pulled through. At the same instant the middle ring now radiated with a white light, not blinding, but putting the mind at peace.

Smoker stood transfixed against the control panel. His feet clamped into binders holding him in place. The old farmer either hadn’t had time, or being unaware, flew across the clearing, along with all the other debris, hitting the outer ring before being pulled through in a bone crushing, bloody mess.

Smoker gave a wide Cheshire cat smile. The hair that remained on one side of his head was flying about. His powerful hands still gripped the control panel.

A song could be heard, tinny and almost drowned out by the sound of the portal. Besides Smoker, stuck down with duck taped to the panel in front of him was an old tape deck. Possibly the sons or from the old farmhouse kitchen. It was playing Bat out of Hell by Meatloaf –
The sirens are screaming, and the fires are howling way down in the valley tonight…

The shaking stopped and a high-pitched screaming filled the air and drowning out the music. The white light of the inner circle now had silhouettes against it.

Reapers were coming through. Mothmen by the hundreds.

Then above all the sounds resounding around me I could hear a small beeping echoing inside the pod.

The timer on the C4 was about to hit zero.

Then it did.

Closed

T
he explosion knocked me senseless. I lay sprawled out on the ground, confused as to why I was still alive. Pain was raking across the right side of my body. I looked over towards the gateway.

The force the turning gate was using was phenomenal, sucking in everything around, stones, timber and smoke, as well as the blast from the detonation. Or so I believed at the time.

As the C4 ignited the pulling force sucked the billowing flames in, being absorbed by the spinning ring. The blast also ripped away the side of the pod, which then flew toward the gap in the ring. The flames and powerful force of the blast was absorbed, but when the pods thick black casing hit the spinning ring it didn’t break down, rather in ripped through the outer ring like a hot knife through butter.