The Gates: An Apocalyptic Novel (16 page)

Tony took a swig of the water, then gave the
remains to Ellis. The men stood around anxiously, so he gave them something to
do. “Hydrate, urinate, then get your heads down, lads. We have a lot of walking
to do in the morning.”

So everyone settled down inside the hidden ISN cave
on the edge of the Syrian Desert. Despite the tension inside each of them,
tiredness won out easily and they were all asleep within minutes. Tony waited
until last to close his eyes.

***

Tony awoke in darkness
wondering where he was. He heard rustling, felt the air move.

Then came an explosion.

His hand was on his rifle, and he leapt to his
feet. His eyes adjusted enough to see shadows, but it wasn’t until someone lit
a lamp that he could see properly. By that time, everyone was scurrying to
their feet blindly, bumping into walls as they tried to wake up. Ellis was last
to his feet, and didn’t seem to realise that he should have been the first.

“What the blazes was that?”

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted. He looked at Aymun
accusingly. “What’s going on?”

The Syrian shook his head. “I do not know.”

Another explosion.

“He’s set us up,” said Ellis, pointing his finger.
“His men are coming for us.”

Tony studied the cave, saw no one missing. “If
that’s true, then who’s fighting outside right now?”

“It is not my men,” Aymun protested. His foot
struck something, and he looked down at it. It was the Quran, knocked from the
pedestal when everybody had been stumbling to their feet in panic. Aymun went
to pick it up, but Tony saw something that made him raise his rifle.

“Wait! Step away from that, Aymun.”

Aymun looked at him pleadingly. “It is holy book.
Must not be on ground.”

Tony snarled, shoved Aymun away. “This isn’t a
fucking holy book.”

Keeping his rifle on the Syrian, he knelt down and
flipped the pages. There was no printed scripture, but instead, handwriting,
maps, and numbers—messages scrawled in Arabic. The ink from the most recent messages
was still wet.

Tony glared at Aymun. “You’re not the only one who
knows about this place, are you? The ISN leave each other messages here. What
have you written?”

Aymun stayed silent, so Tony pointed his rifle in
the Syrian’s face. The British soldiers backed him up by pointing their own
rifles.

“What a fuck party,” muttered Private Harris.

Tony moved the muzzle of his rifle closer to
Aymun’s face. “What did it say?”

Aymun swallowed, but didn’t look away for a second.
“I write that we head north, west of Ash Shaddadi. Rescue is needed.”

“I told you he would betray us,” Ellis shouted.

“I say we shove a wee grenade up his arse,” said
Corporal Rose.

Tony glared at Aymun, looking into the man’s dark
brown eyes, and prepared to pull the trigger. “You’re a liar. Where is your
honour?”

Aymun placed his hands in the air, a placating
gesture. “I plan no bloodshed, only rescue. Your captain want to take us
prisoner, even after accepting our help. I lead you to safety and escape in
night. That was plan.”

Tony delayed pulling the trigger. “How can I
believe you?”

“Because is truth. You understand, Sergeant. We are
no longer enemies. Something has come to destroy all. We are brothers now and must
fight. My men will need me and yours will need you. I was going to lead you to
safety, then escape. I swear it by Allah.”

Another explosion.

Tony kept eye contact with Aymun despite the loose
stones falling from the ceiling and into his collar. “You swear by Allah that
you aren’t betraying us, that the fighting outside isn’t you?”

“Yes, I swear it by Allah.”

“Staff Sergeant, I command you to take this man
prisoner,” demanded Ellis.

Tony turned to his captain and sighed. “We have to
trust him, sir. There’s too much at stake to go off half-cocked.”

“I have just given you an order.”

“I won’t follow it. Not until I know for sure that
he betrayed us.”

“Then you are under arrest for failure to obey a
rightful order.” Ellis turned to the nearest British soldier, who was Private
Harris. “Harris, please place Staff Sergeant Cross under arrest.”

“Fuck you, sir.”

Ellis spun on his subordinate with more fire in
his eyes than Tony had ever seen in the man. It seemed like a breach in manners
was the thing that finally lit his fire. “I beg your pardon, Private? I have given
you an order and strongly suggest you follow it.”

Harris lifted his chin and showed no sign of
backing down. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t believe you’re fit to give
orders. I will do whatever Staff Sergeant Cross commands until we reach the
Turkish border.”

Tony considered what was happening. There were few
offences more serious in the British Army than mutiny, but as Aymun constantly
said: Things had changed when that gate had opened in the desert. Hard choices needed
to be made.

Ellis looked around at his remaining men. “Place Sergeant
Cross and Private Harris under arrest. That is an order. Disobey me, and you’ll
all be court-martialled.”

Nobody moved a finger. The men’s expressions were steely—dangerous.
Ellis grew more and more frustrated, growing red in the face, his lower lip
quivering.

Aymun was next to speak. “My men believe that a
leader should be chosen by his men. You are no leader, Lieutenant—just a fool.”

Ellis spun around in a rage and pulled his handgun
up and pointed it at Aymun’s face.

Bang!

The sound echoed off the cave walls.

Captain Ellis turned to face Tony, who had raised
his rifle and fired before he even knew what he had been doing. A pinprick of
blood bloomed on Ellis’s chest, just to the left of his heart. “Staff
Sergeant…?”

The officer dropped to his knees with disbelief in
his eyes. Tony reached out to grab him, but reconsidered and let the man fall
to the ground where he landed on his back, gave a few quick gasps, and then
died.

“Fuckin’ ell,” Tony muttered to himself, trying
not to let himself panic. “Jesus fuck fuck fuckin’ ‘ell.”

He’d just shot his commanding officer. They’d throw
the book at him—the whole soddin’ library. But what choice had he had? If Aymun
had been telling the truth, then allowing Ellis to kill him would have been a
mistake. Ellis had no cause to execute the man.

If Aymun really had betrayed them, then Tony had
just made the biggest balls up of his life. Please, please, please, let Aymun
be on the up and up.

Tony turned to his men to gauge their reactions. A
bunch of boys, all of them frightened, all of them tired, but there was
something else to them as well. They were hardened. They were veterans. Not one
of them seemed to judge him for what had just happened. They were
his
men.

Tony cleared his throat and said, “Anybody who has
a problem with what I just did is free to report me once we’re back at a
friendly base. Until then I’m going to get you out of this fucking desert and
to safety. Stick with me until then.”

“I’m with you, Sergeant,” said Private Harris.

“Me too,” said Corporal Rose.

Soon, every man had agreed to follow Tony, and he
found himself in a situation he had never been in before: Solo command.

Aymun moved towards Tony and offered his hand.
“Thank you, Sergeant.”

“I thought you didn’t shake hands.”

“I shake hand of man I respect. You are leader,
like me. Let us lead together until peace finds us, be it in this life or the
next.”

Another explosion.

Tony sighed. “This isn’t an ambush.”

“No ambush.”

“Well then, if that racket isn’t to do with you,
we better take a look.”

Aymun nodded. “We must.”

They climbed out of the hidden cave entrance and
stood atop the boulders. What they saw in the distance shocked them.

Harris groaned. “It was so fucking dark last night
that we never even noticed it. Another one of them gates right under our bloody
noses.”

“For fecks sake,” said Corporal Rose.

About a mile away, another gate rose above the
desert, monsters pouring out of it. The explosions were coming from a group of
militia fighting back against the demons.

“Those are my people,” Aymun said.

Tony glanced at him. “ISN?”

“No, Sergeant. Not ISN, just Syrians. They must
have been attacked but now fight back to defend themselves. These are the people
I fight for. They are brave, and we must help them.”

“Then we will,” said Tony, realising there was no
longer any option to make for the border when the enemy were right here. If you
ran away in war, you lost.

Aymun gave Tony a kiss on both cheeks. “We fight
together, as brothers, ready to take Allah’s test.”

Tony turned to his men. “Okay, lads. You know the
drill. There’s enough weaponry in this cave to make a real dent in the bastards
this time, and we’ll be the ones springing out of nowhere on them. Those people
fighting are civvies, and they’re doing a bang up job. Are we going to let them
take all the victory for themselves?”

“Fuck no,” said Harris.

“No way no how,” Rose added.

“Whatever is coming through those gates is here to
destroy us, to end our way of life. They want to murder our families, kill our
children, and slaughter our women. They came from some ‘orrible bleedin’ ‘ell
we probably can’t even imagine, and they want to take what is ours. Are we gunna
let ‘em?”

The men shouted a resounding “NO!”

“Then let’s send the fuckers back where they belong.”

Cheers all around. They were going off to war, and
they were ready to kick arse.

They left the city of
London burning behind them. After the initial attack on Oxford Street, the
enemy Army had systematically torn through the city, before backing off to
regroup. They waited for the Army to congregate, and then attacked again from
all sides. Hyde Park had been a massacre, and Corporal Martin had got a similar
report about the Greenwich Park camp. What remained of the British Armed Forces
was now regrouping at Colchester barracks to lick their wounds.

Mina watched Heathrow Airport slide by on her left
as they sped down the M4 motorway. The thick clusters of shops, factories, and
houses faded away behind them as they entered the parklands on the way to
Slough. A vast golf course lay to Mina’s right, still lit by enormous
floodlights. The time on the jeep’s dashboard read 4:00. She wondered if people
were hiding out in that hotel. In fact, how many people were still alive,
cowering in their homes or grouping together at places like the golf club? If
everybody fought back, all at once, would they have a chance? Corporal Martin
seemed to think so, and she was beginning to agree. The Army could not win this
war—that had become clear back at Hyde Park—so the only chance mankind had was
if the entire population became an army. Every man, woman, and child.

Both Corporal Martin and David had been making
endless calls during the last thirty minutes as they fled the city. The staff
of the
Slough Echo
had locked themselves in the offices, updating the
website and posting on the larger newsgroups. At first, they had worked
feverishly on this morning’s papers, but had abandoned it when it became clear
that there would be no paperboys working tomorrow. Now they sought to get
information to people through the Web. They had used the information given to
them by David and were informing people about what they were up against. The
black stones had opened gates, and the legions of Hell walked through them.
That was the headline.

Alice had screamed after her brother for a while,
but had since gone quiet, staring out of the window and saying nothing. What
had happened to Kyle affected everyone, even those who’d only just met him. He’d
been a child. A brave boy looking after his kid sister. Mina thought about how
many other children were dead.

She took them off the motorway and entered the
outskirts of Slough through Ditton Park. The sun had risen, and she was
surprised to see people walking their dogs.

“They know something’s coming,” said David. “It’s
their attempt to enjoy the normalcy while they still can. Denial can be a
powerful thing.”

But the denial wasn’t true everywhere. Police
patrolled the centre of Slough, which looked like it had been turned upside down
by a whirlwind. Litter choked every gutter, and any shop windows not covered by
shutters were now smashed. Mina remembered the 2011 riots and saw little
difference. People become intrinsically antisocial in times of crisis. When
something bad came their way, they thought only of themselves. People were
rioting when they should have been coming together. During World War II, entire
peoples came together to support their countries, now people fought their
countries even as their countries fought for them. Times had changed. The
enemy’s attack had come at the worst time possible.

There was a scuffle up ahead spilling out into the
road and causing Mina to stop. The police had gathered, forcing a group of
youths to sit on the ground. One of the officers spotted the Army jeep and came
over.

“Bout time we got a little help,” the officer
said.

“I’m not here on behalf of the Army,” Martin said.
“I’m just getting these two reporters to their offices.”

The officer sighed grumpily. “Oh, how are things
in the city? Still bad?”

“No, not bad. Finished. There’s nothing left in
London. The Army got destroyed. I might be the only soldier left from Hyde
Park.”

The police officer went white. “Shit. What the
hell are we dealing with, here? Is it really monsters?”

Mina nodded. “We’re at war, and we need to be
prepared.
Everybody
, not just the police and army. We all need to be
ready to fight.”

“Fight monsters? You must be joking. People won’t
fight. I’ve just spent half the night trying to stop people robbing each
other.”

“If we don’t start working together, we don’t have
a chance,” Mina reiterated.

“Just do what you can, Officer,” said Martin.
“Those kids you have under arrest. What did they do?”

“What didn’t they do? Breaking into shops, kicking
in car windscreens, joyriding...”

Mina looked at the gang of youths and saw beyond
their hoodies and baseball caps. She remembered Vamps and at once stopped
seeing disenchanted youths and saw potential heroes. She saw young, fit,
healthy men with anger inside them that could be put to good use. “You need to
talk to those boys,” she said. “Tell them what’s coming. Give them something to
do, and they’ll be glad to be of use. I promise you.”

The officer sneered. “What? You want me to deputise
a bunch of thugs?”

Martin nodded adamantly. “Yes! We just lost an army
in Hyde Park. This country needs fighters. You have a bunch of them sitting in
the road. This isn’t just a news of the week event. This is it—the big summer
blockbuster, end of the world, fight for survival type of gig. You have a
chance to make a difference, Officer. Get your men and those boys ready,
because war is coming to us all.”

The officer looked at everyone inside the jeep, then
back at Corporal Martin. “You’re not joking? This is really the apocalypse or
something?”

Martin nodded gravely. “Everywhere is under
attack, you probably already know that. It’s going to fall on men like you to
fight back. There won’t be a British Army to sort this all out. It’s going to
be fighting in streets and dying in pain. It will be youngsters, like the ones
you have under arrest, that will fight for our survival. So go tell them what
they’re up against before it’s too late.”

The officer nodded. “Okay, I’ll round ‘em up and
get ‘em to work. Every able-bodied person I can find will be ready, you have my
word.”

Martin saluted the officer. “What’s your name?”

“Richard Honeywell.”

“I wish you well, Richard. Stay alive.”

“I… Yes, you too.”

Mina shifted into gear and got going. She glanced
in her rear view mirror as Officer Honeywell stood the gang of youths up and addressed
them. He looked like a leader rallying his troops. That was exactly what he
needed to be.

Then she headed towards the newspaper offices,
comforted by the recognisable streets along which she’d commuted almost every
day since she’d joined the
Echo
ten months ago. It’d been her first
professional job since gaining her photography degree from Falmouth. Her father
had insisted on her taking a minor in business studies, and she had truthfully
found that it had helped her when looking for work as a journalist. It gave her
uses beyond taking snaps. Still, her father had not been happy when she went
into photography instead of business. Respect and fortune were gained through
trade, not by indulging in one’s hobbies. Mina’s father did not consider
photojournalism a proper job.

She wondered how he was.

The last voicemail she’d received from her father
had informed her that he was at home awaiting her imminent return. Her absence
had forced him to close up the chip shop, and he was extremely disappointed in
her. Well, he could go right on thinking about himself. She would do whatever
she could to help. Right now, she was the one doing something while her father
cowered at home.

“We’re here,” said David, more for the benefit of
Martin and Alice than anybody else. Alice continued staring out of the window,
but Martin sighed with relief. He was probably as glad as Mina to finally stop
fleeing. They needed to regroup and re-strategize. Running only made you tired.

Mina pulled the jeep up behind Carol’s Mazda and
switched off the engine. She put the ignition key in her pocket, even though
the vehicle didn’t belong to her. If Martin asked for it back later, she would
hand it over happily, but until then, she liked having access to a vehicle.

“Help me!”

Mina glanced into the road and saw a man lying
twenty metres away next to the curb. He looked about thirty-years of age and he
reached out to her and pleaded. “I’m hurt.”

Martin raised his rifle suspiciously.

“Please help me,” the stranger repeated.

Martin took a step away from the jeep and moved
into the centre of the road. He looked at Mina and then nodded ahead. “Go,
check on him. I have you covered.”

Seeing no reason to assume danger, yet possessing
nerves frayed to tatters, Mina headed cautiously up the road. The dark-haired
man’s olive skin gave him a look of the Mediterranean. He wore simple jeans and
a white t-shirt stained with blood. As she got closer, she noticed that his
nose was bleeding.

“Are you alright? What happened to you?”

The man remained lying on his side and moaned.
“Some kids gave me a kicking, took my car, and left me here.”

Mina knelt down beside the man and placed a hand
on his arm. He was cold. “How long have you been lying here?”

“I don’t know. An hour maybe. I… I was afraid to
get up.”

“It’s okay now. You can come with me.”

The man pushed himself up into a sitting position
and winced. “Thank you. My name’s Andras.” Despite his uncommon name, he had no
accent to speak of, plain spoken and bordering on posh.

Mina helped the man to his feet and took him over
to join the others. “This is Corporal Martin,” she introduced him, “and my
colleague, David, and this here is Alice.”

Alice didn’t bother to look up, but Andras said
hello anyway.

“Andras was mugged,” Mina explained.

“Not to worry, old chap,” said David, patting him
on the back. “We’ve all been through the wringer tonight. We’re heading inside,
and you’re welcome to come join us.”

Andras nodded sheepishly. “Thank you.”

So they all headed inside the building and went
upstairs to the third floor. The lower floors were all unlit, but the third
floor offices were glowing with life and buzzing with action. Almost every
member of the
Echo
’s reporting staff was present, either at their
computers or on their phones—some of them both, typing away with their hands
while holding a phone between their head and shoulder. Mina had never seen the
office so motivated. Even Carol, usually sitting in her office and violating
the smoking ban, was up on her feet, bare-footed in stockings and waddling
around on her mahogany cane. Numerous times, Mina had seen that cane waved in
someone’s face, including her own, but she was glad to see it now. She felt at
home again. The world seemed a little less off-kilter.

Carol spotted them and came running on over. “You
made it! I’d begun to wonder if you’d ever get here.”

“The roads were rather… chaotic,” said David. “I
gave you all we had on the phone. What’s the word this end?”

“It’s a bloody shambles. France and Spain have put
their Governments on boats and abandoned their own countries in their time of
need. America is fighting back, as you’d expect, but they’ve been hit bloody
hard. New York took it right up the arse, poor buggers. China and Russia have
killed as many of their own people as they have the enemy. They’ve flattened
Moscow. Africa is doing the best, believe it or not. So many of its countries
are heavily armed that their entire populations are effectively armies now. I
bet the ugly buggers that came through the gates in Somalia didn’t know what
hit ‘em.”

“What about us?” asked Mina. “How is the U.K.
doing?”

Carol sighed. “You know the answer to that, luv,
because you saw it for yourself. Our Army is mostly overseas, and most of what wasn’t
disappeared in Hyde Park. What happened in Hyde Park has happened a dozen other
places. Army got the shit kicked out of ‘em.”

“I got word the Army is regrouping in Colchester,”
said Martin, seemingly wounded by Carol’s remarks.

Carol examined the Corporal like she had just realised
he was standing there. “That’s true, my love, but what’s left to regroup? Not a
lot. We’re up shit creek, not without a paddle, but without a bloody damn boat.
We are literally swimming in shit. I can almost taste it. Jesus Christ it’s a sodding
mess.”

Martin glanced sideways at Mina and spoke in a
hushed tone. “This woman is your boss?”

Carol heard the comment and pointed her finger.
“Yes, I’m her bloody boss, and anybody else who steps inside this office. The
Echo
is my paper, and we’re all working our arses off to get word out to the people
about what’s happening. You here to help, Sergeant Stiff-neck, or are you going
to put the kettle on?”

Martin fidgeted. “It’s
Corporal
Martin.”

Carol’s eyes bore into him. “Milk, three sugars.
Kettle’s at the back.”

Martin frowned, went to speak, but then trotted
off towards the back of the office, like a good little boy.

Carol raised an eyebrow at Mina once Martin was
out of earshot. “That the fella who rescued you?”

“Yes, he saved our lives.”

“Then I’m glad to have him. Now, who’s this little
beauty?” Carol knelt in front of Alice, who stared at the floor and said
nothing.

“This is Alice,” said Mina. “We…
She
lost
her brother in Hyde Park.”

Carol let out a long, pained sigh. “A big brother,
I bet? I had a big brother, too. He’s gone now, died of the cancer four years
back. Don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost him at your age. I want to
hear all about him, my love. He might be gone, but the more people you tell
about him, the more his spirit will live on. I have chocolate in my office.
Will you come share it with me while you tell me all about your brother? I want
to know everything, starting with his favourite colour.”