Legion (An Apocalyptic Horror Novel) (Hell on Earth Book 2) (10 page)

They decided to spend the night at Vamps’s flat, first choosing to take beers up to the roof to watch the craziness. You could see right across the Thames.

Night hadn’t yet taken its grasp on the city and the distant high rises still gave off their usual light pollution. In fact, if not for the stench of smoke in the air and the unceasing noise, it might’ve been a normal evening in the capitol.

“Shit, man,” said Mass, pointing at the horizon. “The Shard is on fire. Can you believe that? Next year’s Apprentice is gunna have to get a new opening.”

They chuckled.

“You watch that shit?” asked Ginge.

“Yeah, man. Next year I’m gunna take part and show L.A. Shugs my business idea.”

Ravy frowned. “L.A. Shugs?”

“Yeah, Lord Alan Sugar.”

“What’s your business idea?” asked Vamps.

Mass folded his arms and lay back in his deckchair with a smug expression. “Gunna sell digital light switches.”

Vamps frowned. “Digital what-nows?”

Mass rolled his eyes like they were idiots. “Digital light switches. I mean, what’s the deal with how up-to-date everything is, but our lights are the same as fifty years ago. I want to replace light switches with these little LED touch screens that let you adjust the brightness, set a schedule, and even have them adjust automatically based on the sunlight in the room. It’s so simple man, and it wouldn’t even be an expensive gadget to manufacture. People would lap it up. The world loves tech. I would do the same with plug sockets. Make ‘em digital. Let you switch stuff on and off from your iPad.”

Vamps was impressed. “You know, that’s actually not a bad idea. I suppose it’s bound to happen. Someone needs to get in and get it started.”

“And when I’m L.A. Shugs’ main man, I’ll be a millionaire. Get us all out of this shit-hole.”

“You’d share the money?” said Ginge.

“Hell, yes. We family. One of us makes it, we all make it.”

“Word to that,” said Vamps, putting up his beer for a toast.

They clinked bottles, but then Ravy said, “Too bad the world has ended.”

Vamps groaned. “Way to bring down the mood.”

“Sorry. I’m just saying… Look at this place. There’s fighting in the streets, looting, monsters tearing people apart… That’s some heavy shit.”

Vamps looked out at the city. Gunfire lit up the dusk like fireworks. Most of it came from the direction of Hyde Park, which had been illuminated by high powered floodlights. Several helicopters buzzed in and out of the area. Was that where the Army had assembled?

Were they taking care of business?

Like Vamps had with that rapist?

He pulled out his grandfather’s Browning and lay it across his knees, studying it. The brushed metal was scuffed and tarnished.

“How you get that thing, anyway?” asked Mass. “I don’t think you ever told me.”

“It was my grandpa’s.”

“Really? He was in the war?”

“Nah, man. He was a gangster, same as us. He robbed it off some dude back in his cat burgling days. Was too hot to sell.”

Mass chuckled. “Wish I’d met the old guy.”

Vamps smiled at the vague memory he had of his grandfather. “Yeah, he was a good crack. Died when I was eight, couple years before I met you lot.”

“Good he stuck by you,” said Ginge. “You know, after your dad did one.”

The mention of Vamp’s father brought silence. Vamps clutched his fists instinctively but gave no thoughts to his feelings. The lads didn’t need to hear about some deadbeat knocking his ma around. Way Vamps considered things, he had no father. End of conversation.

He put his grandfather’s Browning away.

For a while, Ginge had kept them updated from his phone’s internet, which was patchy at best. They watched juddering videos of monsters from Hell—too many to deny their existences. Those gates led to some terrible place and the damned and dead were spilling out. Some of the monsters were so badly burned that you could see bone.

“Think this will all go away?” asked Ginge when an hour had passed. He had barely touched his beer, more an eater than a drinker. Mass, on the other hand, drank two bottles ahead.

“Like hell it will,” said Ravy. “We’re all fucked.”

Vamps exhaled, took a swig of his own beer.

An explosion.

All four of them leapt up out of their deck chairs and went over to the edge of the roof. A fireball filled the night sky, blooming from the ground and heading towards the stars. Vamps gripped his beer bottle tightly as it swung next to his leg. “It’s one of the helicopters. The fighting’s moved to Hyde Park.”

“How the hell did they take out a helicopter?” asked Ravy. “They have anti-air missiles now?”

“Maybe it was pilot error,” said Ginge. “Zipping around all those tall buildings…”

Somehow none of them believed it. The distant fighting had intensified in the last hour. Things weren’t going well. The Army was going all in.

Then they saw something none of them could quite fathom.

Ginge dropped his beer bottle to the ground where it shattered. “Is that… Is that a giant?”

The word sounded stupid, but Vamps knew no better way to describe what he saw emerging from the floodlights of Hyde Park. A giant man wearing nothing but a loin cloth. Like some massive caveman meant to fight Godzilla in one of those awful Japanese movies. But this was no movie.

A giant laid waste to Central London.

“We need to get gone,” said Ginge.

Mass folded his huge arms. “Hate to be a pussy, but I agree.”

“And go where?” asked Vamps. The beer in his throat tasted like acid.

Ginge held up his phone. “The web said parts of the south coast are still okay, Portsmouth, I think. Maybe we should head there?”

“Let’s just boost a car and go,” said Ravy. “I could cope with the thought of zombies or demons in the park, but I ain’t sticking around for no giants. That thing could step across the Thames and be here in ten minutes.”

Vamps took another look across the city. He placed the thing as at least thirty feet high. If it wasn’t standing in the park, it would be hidden behind the buildings, and if it slipped out of sight there would be no way of knowing how close it was. By the sound of it, the Army was letting loose with everything it had. 

But the giant didn’t fall. It was a titan—invulnerable.

“Let’s bounce,” said Vamps, deciding that living in a refugee camp in Portsmouth was better than surviving home any longer.

Ginge exhaled as if relieved. “Thank fudge for that. Actually, can we swing by mine to grab some food first?”

Mass punched Ginge’s flabby arm. “We’re about to run for our lives, man. We ain’t stopping for no Cadbury’s Cream Egg, buster!”

Ginge frowned. “Fine.”

They headed into the stairwell and started down. Televisions blared in some of the flats, so people were still at home, which made Vamps wonder if sticking around was a good idea. His gut instinct told him to stay put, but after seeing the scenes in Hyde Park he had a bad feeling. Eventually, the battle would spill over into Brixton and beyond. Staying alive on the streets would be even harder than normal.

Halfway down the stairs, three floors up, voices came up to meet them. Someone had entered the entrance hallway on the bottom floor. Vamps knew because he heard the broken front door scrape across the concrete.

“You sure he lives here?” came a voice they all recognised.

“That’s the fucking dealer who screwed us over,” said Mass.

“You mean the one we robbed at gunpoint?” Ravy added.

Vamps peered over the bannister to the stairwell below. It was
definitely
him. Pusher.

Other people too. Three more guys and a kid Vamps instantly recognised.

Vamps reached to the bright green cap on his head. “It’s that car-jacking piece of shit.”

Mass looked at him. “Who?”

“I caught a kid breaking into cars this morning and put him on his arse.”

“So you were fighting crime before you even met us today? You Batman.”

Vamps chuckled. “Batman would be good now.”

“He lives in this building,” said the car-jacker. “My mate Jasmine used to go out with him. Third floor, I think.”

“Hey, I remember Jasmine,” said Ginge. “She was hot.”

Vamps shook his head. “Not now, Ginge.”

Pusher started up the stairs with his entourage. “Gonna teach that piece of shit what happens when people mess with me. He’s fuckin’ dead. My kid was there.”

Mass smashed his fists together. “Let’s go choke this mother out.”

“Wait up a sec.” Vamps held back his bulldog and peered over the railing again. He watched Pusher ascend the bottom staircase—saw the stubby length of brushed steel in the dealer’s hands.

A sawn-off shotgun.

“He’s coming in heavy,” said Vamps.

“You gunna get your gun out,” asked Ravy nervously. Still no one had mentioned that he had shot a man earlier. Vamps didn’t know how they felt about it. 

He didn’t feel good about it himself.

Vamps kept his voice low. “Back to the roof. We need to lie low.”

Mass looked at him slack-jawed. “We gunna run?”

Vamps nodded. “Don’t matter how tough you are in a gunfight. Anybody can catch a bullet. I ain’t gunna risk that, so let’s bounce.”

They hurried back up the stairwell towards the roof. Pusher was making enough of his own noise not to hear theirs, and by the time they made it up the stairs, they were all pretty sure of a clean escape.

Vamps shoved an old roof tile under the door to wedge it shut. There was no reason Pusher should think to come up here, but just in case. “We’ll stay up here till the coast is clear. Then we’ll think about getting out of the city.”

“Good thing it’s a warm night,” said Ginge, clutching himself.

“Good thing you’re carrying ten-stone of fat,” said Mass, punching his friend on the arm.

“Screw you, man.”

“Shut up,” said Vamps, or I’ll go get Pusher to shoot you myself.

“He don’t wanna shoot us,” said Ravy. “He just bluffing.”

Mass huffed. “You turn up at someone’s manor with a sawn-off, you ain’t bluffin’, man.”

When they heard the shotgun go off, the point was made. They fell silent, eyes wide.

Who the hell had just caught a bullet?

Vamps went over to the roof edge and looked again to Hyde Park.

The giant was gone, but things had never been more dangerous.

R
ichard felt better
with his family close by, but still felt a weight on his shoulders as he kept a watchful eye on the people in the church. There were a hundred of them now, mostly the vulnerable and lonely. Some had brought along cans of beer, which wasn’t against the law, but bode ill for the evening. Drunk people were not the easiest to control in a panic, and panic could swoop upon them at any moment.

The church had an old television set that the vicar set up in front of the wooden lectern. The news played constantly but showed nothing to make people feel any better. It showed horror; not hope, but people could not look away. In the centre of London, Big Ben’s ornate clock face was blackened and charred, while a battle raged on in nearby Hyde Park. The Army fought monsters in the street, monsters from Hell, if you believed what the more paranoid talking heads claimed. Gates to Hell had opened and demons sought to purge the earth of humanity. The insane thing was that Richard believed it. He could think of no better explanation for what he was seeing on the news.

Demons were here.

And they were everywhere.

In the last hour, the television had flashed multiple scenes of devastation from Tokyo to Bogota where barefooted Colombians fired guns in the street. There had been few scenes of triumph, except for a brief ten seconds of footage from Damascus which showed the entire city armed and ready. The peaceful nations of the world were the ones doing badly. Geneva had been laid to waste with barely the slightest resistance. Swiss pacifism had been a death warrant to its people.

Dillon was bored, but an old lady named Shirley was doing her best to keep him occupied by playing eye spy. The kindness of a stranger was a powerful thing in times like this, and Richard felt a swell of emotion every time he looked at the old woman caring for his son.

“Romantic, in a way,” said Jen, holding a cup of coffee between her hands whilst leaning against a weathered pew. “Like the way people huddled together during The Blitz.”

“People died during The Blitz,” Richard told her. “And people have been dying today.”

Jen nodded, but didn’t seem to regret her comment. She placed a hand on her husband’s arm and looked him in the eye. “I’m just saying, it’s times like these when people pull together. We all make each other stronger by sharing courage and compassion. I’m proud of you for looking after all these people, Rich.”

Richard didn’t feel like he was doing much good, and he told her so. “I’m just babysitting. The real work is in London. I feel terrible for admitting it, but I’m glad I’m not there.”

“I’m glad too, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be needed here. These people,” she looked around at all the stragglers and oddballs that sat on the church’s stone floor or slouched on its pews, “they see a police officer present and automatically feel safer. Don’t underestimate how important you are.”

“I don’t underestimate it, Jen, but I worry that if things get worse, all these people will look at me for direction. I don’t have a bloody clue.”

“Cross that bridge when it comes.”

Riaz came in from outside and strolled down the centre aisle between the pews. He went right up to Richard. “It’s dark outside now, and Glen just radioed in from Cider Hill. We got some kids playing up.”

“Can Glen handle it?”

“No,” said Riaz. “He’s one man, and he said there’s half a dozen of them.”

Richard nodded. “Are you going to assist him?”

“No,
we
 will assist him.”

“I’m not leaving here,” said Richard, glancing sideways at Dillon, who was growing bored with eye spy.

“Look,” said Riaz. “You’ve already abandoned your duty once to go get your family, and I can understand that to a degree, but they are here now and safe. I won’t allow you to stay here and do nothing while the streets turn into a jungle.”

Richard straightened up and scowled at his colleague. “You’re not in a position to
allow
me to do anything.”

“Maybe so, but as a fellow police officer, I am requesting your assistance, and unless you have a bloody good reason not to give it, I’ll be reporting you to the SI.”

Richard opened his mouth to speak, but Jen squeezed his arm. “It’s fine, Rich. You need to go do your job. Don’t worry about me and Dillon. We’re fine.”

Richard swallowed a lump in his throat as he tried to decide. He watched Dillon stand up and inspect the various church paraphernalia. Before long he would start messing with things he shouldn’t. Then he would break something. 

But the damage outside the church would be far worse if looters were allowed to scurry around unchecked.

“Okay, Riaz, fine. Let me say goodbye to my son.”

Riaz nodded, but looked annoyed even at having to wait one minute more. Richard ignored his colleague’s attitude and went over to Dillon.

“Hey, Dil-Dil,” he said. “I’m just popping out, but I’ll be back soon.”

“No, Dad, don’t go outside. The monsters will get you.”

Richard gave his son a squeeze to calm him. “No, they won’t. The monsters are far away. I’m just going out to see a friend at the other side of town. I won’t be long. While I’m gone, I need you to be good. Don’t mess with anything you shouldn’t, and do what mummy tells you, okay?”

Dillon, nodded whilst pouting at the same time. “It’s boring here, Dad. They won’t let me change the channel on the telly.”

“I know, but we all have to stay here for a while before we can go home.”

“Because of the monsters?”

Richard didn’t want to alarm his son, but he also wanted him to understand. “Sort of, Dil, yeah. We just need to make sure the monsters stay where they are.”

“Can you get my books, Dad?”

Richard sighed. His son loved to read—something Richard and Jen had tried to instill in him at an early age as a way to support his Downs. It had worked, and Dillon often read the Harry Potter books cover to cover. Child’s encyclopaedias were also a hit—especially if they contained facts about animals. “I don’t think I’ll have time to go back, sweetheart, but if I see any shops open, I’ll see if I can grab you a magazine.”

“Okay, Dad,” he nodded forlornly. “Love you.”

Richard kissed his son’s forehead. “Love you too, son.”

Jen was still standing nearby, so he gave her a quick hug before he left. He was about to say something to her when Riaz cleared his throat irritably.

“I’m coming,” Richard snapped. He followed the other officer out of the church doors, but was stopped by the vicar.

“Ah, officers,” said Miles. “I just want to say again how very grateful I am to have you here. People are afraid. Part of me wishes I never turned on that television, but I suppose there’s no hiding from the horrors we face.”

“No, thank you, Reverend. It’s been a massive help giving all these people somewhere they can come together for moral support.”

“I suppose you two are on your way to deal with those less interested in such things?”

Richard nodded. “Unfortunately, times like these bring out the worst in people.”

“I don’t honestly think there has ever been ‘times like these’, but I take your point. Please remind anyone you meet that there is still room at the church and a mug of hot tea if they want it.”

“We shall,” said Riaz. “Thank you again, sir.”

“Please, call me Miles. ‘Sir’ should be reserved for men in ties, don’t you think?”

Riaz was eager to get away, and his reply was short. “Yes, Miles, I do. Goodbye now.”

As they walked away, Richard pulled his colleague up. “You don’t have to be so rude, you know. That man has done more to help than anyone.”

“Serving tea isn’t a help. We need to clamp down on nuisance behaviour before it takes hold. He’s just getting good publicity for the church.”

“That’s a little cynical.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Richard wondered if Riaz was Muslim, and if that was why he took exception to the reverend and his church. He decided he was too ignorant of such things to ask. Nor did he know Riaz particularly well.

Cider Hill lay at the edge of the town centre where the shops changed into offices. A booze shop traded there next to the bus station, so it was often a problem area where anti-social behaviour was concerned. The walk took them ten minutes.

Glen, a round-faced man with a persistent smile, had parked outside a recruitment firm. He waved out the car window at them as they approached. “Didn’t want to make a move until I had backup.”

“What do we have?” asked Richard.

“Six or seven kids boozed up at the bus station. They raided the office by the looks of it.”

Richard put his thumbs inside his belt and sighed. “Don’t know what we’re supposed to do with them.”

“Lock ‘em up,” said Riaz. “Same as any other night.”

“But this isn’t any other night, Riaz. The whole world went to Hell in a hand basket today, if you didn’t notice. Bunch of kids pissed up at the bus station is not the concern it would usually be.”

“Crime is still crime. If an innocent person wanders into the bus station and gets attacked, that’s our failure.”

Richard nodded. “I agree. My only point is that it seems stupid to ride them all to lock up. Is anyone even manning the jail tonight?”

Glen nodded. “I’ve been back and forth on the radio with Suzie at the desk. There’re a couple uniforms in—Sutton is there.”

Sutton was another sergeant, like Richard—a decent copper. Richard nodded. “Okay, we’ll call it in once we’ve dealt with the situation.”

“Let’s get a move on then,” said Riaz.

Glen took the car down the road outside the bus station while Richard and Riaz hurried along on foot. The rowdy teenagers inside were kicking over bins and climbing the timetable boards like monkeys. The amount of beer cans on the floor was enough to fill a wheelie bin with.

Riaz was first in, racing at one of the lads before they saw him coming. 

“Fuckin’ pigs,” one of them shouted, breaking into a run.

Richard dodged sideways and met the escape of one of the lads. The two of them smashed together and went down to the ground. Richard got the better of the scuffle and ended up on top. The lad’s baseball cap rolled across the floor and left his face exposed.

“You were at the shopping centre earlier today,” said Richard. “You trashed the games store.”

“I dunno what the fuck you’re on about, pig.”

Richard yanked the lad to his feet, trying not to let the stench of alcohol overpower him. “We’ll soon jog your memory, son. There’ll be plenty of CCTV footage to remind you.” He saw the flash of worry spark through the lad’s eyes and was satisfied. He turned around and saw that Riaz had apprehended two other lads, holding them at bay with his CS gas canister. Outside, Glen had gathered a fourth hoodlum and had him up against the car. Three of the youths got away.

“You okay, Riaz?” asked Richard, shoving his prisoner around and slapping on handcuffs.

Riaz nodded, a satisfied expression on his face as he manhandled the lads in his possession.

They got the prisoners handcuffed and took them outside, sitting them on the ground in a line outside the off license. “You’ve really made quite the time of it today, haven’t you?” said Richard.

The group of lads stared sullenly at the ground.

Riaz nodded at Glen. “Call it in."

Glen used the radio in his car and got through to Suzie. They chatted back and forth for a minute while Riaz and Richard dealt with the prisoners.

“You know what a scumbag you have to be to be out causing trouble at a time like this?” said Riaz. “People are scared. People are dying just a few miles away in London. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

No one spoke.

Riaz kicked one of the lads. “Answer me, you little shits.”

Richard reached out and nudged his colleague back a step. “Okay, Riaz. We have them.”

Riaz shrugged away. “I’m just disgusted. Disgusted at this country. Disgusted at degenerates like this who think they can do what the fuck they like.”

Richard saw the hysteria on his colleagues face. The way his eyes darted about, and his lips twitched. “Just calm down, Riaz. You know that this is what happens. Most people are behaving, trying to help.”

Riaz shook his head and took a moment. “I know. Damn it, I just wish we were better, that’s all.”

Glen climbed out of the cruiser and approached. “We can’t take ‘em in.”

Richard frowned. “What? Are the cells full?”

“No, the cells are empty, and so is the station. Suzie said that Sutton has told everyone to go home to their families.”

“Sutton did that?” Richard couldn’t believe it. Sutton was too dedicated to abandon his post. Where things really that bad?

Yes, of course they were.

Glen sighed. “I know it’s crazy, but Suzie was just about to leave herself. She said the officers who joined the task force in London haven’t reported back in hours and that Command isn’t answering. We’ve been forgotten for the time being, so it’s up to us what we do. There’s an all-out war in the city by all accounts.”

“So what do we do with these scumbags?” asked Riaz, his anger rising again. “We can’t just let them go.”

Richard grasped his arm. “We’ll figure something out.”

One of the lads bolted up and tried to make a run for it. It was an absurd act, seeing as his hands were cuffed in front of him. He made it three steps, waddling like a penguin, before Riaz swept his legs out from under him and sent him crashing down onto the curb.

“Fuck man! That’s Police brutality.”

“Tell it to someone who cares,” Riaz hissed. “Stand up once more and you won’t be able to try again.”

Richard had to move Riaz back again. The man was clenching his fists. “Riaz, just calm down. They’re just a bunch of kids covering their fear with reckless behaviour.”

“Yeah,” said Glen. “Just relax, Riaz. You’re frightening them.”

“I ain’t scared of nuffin’, blud,” one lad mumbled.

Riaz looked like he was about to go off again, but an approaching vehicle made the three officers turn. It was an Army jeep, and it stopped when the driver saw them and pulled up beside the curb. A soldier stared out at them from the back of the uncovered vehicle. An Asian woman sat in the driver’s seat.