Hell Gate Page 5

  “And you know this will work?” asked Andre.

  “No.” Doc shifted his stance from one foot to the other. “However, the theory is sound. If I can introduce the device into the portal, I’m confident I can close it.”

  “Besides,” added Jacques. “What other choice do we have?”

  “We sit tight.” Andre pointed to the windows. “Our defenses here are good, and we can safely ride out anything the Hell Spawn throw at us. What’s the worst that could happen if we do nothing?”

  “This.” Doc reached into the basket and withdrew the plastic bottle. It was empty. “Theoretically, every Hell Spawn in the other realm could cross over to our side, and then how long do you think we’ll survive? Our only chance of rebuilding society is to close that gate and stop the flow of demons into our world. Then we can take care of the Hell Spawn that are already here and maybe take back this world.”

  Andre made eye contact with Sasha and Haneef. She knew what he wanted to ask. They all wanted to ask the same question, yet were afraid of the answer. Finally, the Russian summoned up the courage. “I doubt you’re going to send Doc off alone into Paris to close the gate.”

  Jacques forced a smile. “Your three teams will accompany him.”

  “You’re not seriously considering sending all of us to Paris to find that damn gate?” asked Andre.

  “Of course,” replied Jacques.

  Andre grew frustrated. “If you send all my teams into Paris, it’ll be a miracle if any of us come back, let alone succeed. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a coward, but I didn’t sign up to die needlessly. This is a suicide mission.”

  “My son,” said Bishop Fiorello. “You must have faith that the Lord will provide for your safety.”

  “Perhaps you’d like to come with us, Bishop?” Andre snarled, his Russian accent becoming heavy. “We’d have a much better chance of survival if we had a direct link to God through His Holiness.”

  Fiorello stepped away from the table. The two men glared at each other, one out of contempt, and the other out of fear.

  Sasha felt that a cooler head needed to prevail. “Jacques, I understand your desire to make sure we close the gate. Sending all three teams is risky. If we don’t make it back, Mont St. Michel will be left defenseless.”

  “I know that, my child. And I will do everything I can to ensure your success.”

  “There has to be another way,” added Haneef.

  “I wish there was. We have no other choice.” Jacques stepped over to the bay windows that faced south and motioned for the others to join him. Everyone except Bishop Fiorello complied. Off in the distance, along the shoreline, sat the refugee camp. Sasha had never seen it from the city’s heights before. The camp covered more than fifty acres. Fires dotted the landscape, more than she could count. Jacques kept his attention focused on the coast as he spoke.

  “We cannot protect those outside of the city. We’re barely able to keep them alive. It’s only a matter of time before the Hell Spawn make their way this far west. Then what happens to those people? We can’t take them in, and we can’t hold off the Hell Spawn indefinitely. Your three teams will die anyway. If we ever hope to survive and get back to a normal way of life, we have to close that Hell Gate. Would you rather die saving the world or getting slaughtered in a hopeless last stand?”

  “I’d rather die on my feet than live on my knees,” responded Andre with his usual bravado.

  “It’s Allah’s will,” answered Haneef with less enthusiasm.

  I’d rather not die at all, thought Sasha. However, she replied, “I’ll go.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Jacques stepped away from the window and faced his team leaders. “Rest up tonight. You’ll prepare tomorrow and leave at dawn the following morning.”

  “One request,” Sasha interjected. “Jason is too young for a mission like this. I’d like to ask that we leave him behind.”

  Andre huffed. “You want to protect your boy toy?”

  “That’s not it.” Sasha realized she responded too quickly and forcefully. Her face flushed with anger. She tried to keep her reply calm. “He’s only sixteen. There’s no need for him to die like this. He’ll be of much better use staying behind and helping establish the new teams to replace us.”

  Jacques deferred to Andre. “How about it?”

  Andre shook his head. “I need him.”

  “You want to use him to lure out the Hell Spawn,” Sasha spat.

  “He’s a good fighter. And he has some weird sense about these things. He knows when they’re around before we even see them.”

  “That’s true,” added Doc. “The opening of the portal disturbed the balance between the two worlds. The same pulse that wiped out our electrical systems also enhanced the paranormal attributes of those predisposed to them.”

  “So you mean Bait is psychic?” asked Andre.

  “He’s prone to psychic ability.”

  The Russian nodded. “All the more reason he needs to go along. I can’t count how many times Bait’s saved our lives by warning us about the danger.”

  Sasha was taken aback by Andre’s answer. “Then why do you always ride him so hard?”

  “Because he’s still a kid.” Andre held up his hand, cutting off Sasha. “I used to be like him. Young and naïve. I had to toughen up otherwise the streets of Moscow would have eaten me alive. I pick on him for his own good. He’ll either learn to be a man or he’ll die as a boy. In any case, he’s going with us.”

  “It’s settled.” Jacques words ended further argument. “Go prepare your teams. Take whatever supplies you need. And may God be with you.”

  I doubt even God will be able to help us once we reach Paris, thought Sasha.

  Chapter Eight

  Jason used his fork to push the scrambled eggs around his plate and flip over the strips of bacon. Every few minutes he would use it to shovel some into his mouth. He wasn’t hungry, yet ate in spite of that. With rations scarce, and only the military teams and the top leadership being fed such luxuries as bacon and eggs, Jason didn’t want to waste food. Despite his not having eaten in over twenty-four hours, he had no appetite and merely went through the motions.

  “How’s your shoulder?” Neal walked up from behind with his plate.

  “It’s okay right now. I took four Motrin a little while ago.”

  “Be careful with that stuff.” Neal sat down opposite Jason. “If you misuse it, you could ruin your kidneys.”

  “I doubt I’ll live long enough for that to happen.”

  Neal focused on his plate, embarrassed by Jason’s pessimism. An awkward moment passed before he looked up. “So things were pretty rough yesterday in St. Mere Eglise?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What was it like?”

  “I don’t like to talk about it.”

  “Come on. Give me details.”

  “Why are you so curious?”

  Neal leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’m stuck in this place. I haven’t been off this damn island since I got here. The most exciting thing I’ve done is fight an outbreak of diarrhea within the refugee camp.”

  Jason sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on,” Neal begged. “I live vicariously through you.”

  Unlike Andre and Slava, Jason hated talking about his experiences. He didn’t see his actions as heroic but as penitence. However, Neal was his friend, so he indulged him. Besides, it gave him a good excuse not to eat. Halfway through relating the story, Andre approached. Jason knew nothing good would come out of it.

  The Russian stepped up to their table and leaned forward, resting his knuckles on the wooden surface. “Bait, when you’re done I need you to go to the stables and check on the preparation of the horses.”

  “Sure. Are we going on another search and destroy run?”

  “More like a suicide run.” Andre’s demeanor did not express his usual enthusiasm for a fight. “Long story short, Gruber’s team discovered that the portal in Geneva is on
ly an entry gate. Jacques thinks the exit gate is somewhere in Paris. Doc has a device that he claims can close it and stop the Hell Spawn from entering. We’re supposed to make sure Doc gets a chance to play the hero.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “All three gun teams.” Andre glanced over at Neal. “You’re going, too.”

  “Why me?” Neal blurted out.

  “Doc says you’re the only other person who knows how to use the device, so you’re his backup.” Andre smiled the familiar sneer he used when bullying people. “Scared?”

  “Hell yes. I’m not a ground pounder like you guys. I don’t even know how to use a gun.”

  Andre laughed and patted Neal on the shoulder. “My team will protect you, Little Doc.”

  Neal lowered his head. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

  Andre turned his attention back to Jason. “Your girlfriend tried to have you left behind until Jacques overrode her. You’ve got to nut up a bit if you want to see if she’s a natural redhead.”

  Jason ignored the rude comment, more incensed by Sasha’s attempt to have him excluded. “What did she say?”

  “Looks like I touched a nerve.” Andre chuckled. “She said you weren’t tough enough for this mission. Don’t worry. I stood up for you, so you’re going. Now your girlfriend will have her boy toy along for the ride.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” Jason said defensively, Though I wish she were.

  “You’ll have plenty of chances to prove yourself. Make sure the horses each carry a seven-day supply of food, yet aren’t weighted down too heavily. It’s a long way to Paris. We’re moving out at six tomorrow morning. See you ladies then.”

  Andre marched off. Neal waited until the Russian was out of earshot before mumbling, “I can’t stand that asshole.”

  Jason agreed, although he said nothing. Right now he was more concerned about why Sasha didn’t want him along.

  After checking on the horses as Andre had asked, Jason made his way to the armory, which had been set up in the parish church of St. Peter. As he climbed the front steps to the main door, he could hear the metallic clicking of ammunition being loaded into magazines and weapon bolts being checked. He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts.

  All morning he had played over in his head what he would say to Sasha, rehearsing his lines and preparing a response for every possible come back. In every scenario he dominated the conversation, proving to Sasha just how much of a man he was and winning over her affections. He needed to get this perfect. Her comment had wounded his feelings as well as his pride. Of course, this was assuming that Andre had told him the truth and wasn’t screwing with him. Even so, the very thought that Sasha considered him not tough enough bothered him. He had been on as many search and destroy missions as her, and had faced as many Hell Spawn, except he usually did it alone with only a crossbow and a machete. Unlike her, he didn’t have a minigun to protect him. That type of bravery should count for something. What bothered Jason most was the thought that Sasha didn’t want him along. Although too shy to ask her out, he still considered Sasha his girlfriend. Sure, a seven-year age difference existed between them. However, such niceties had been sucked into the Hell Gate along with the rest of civilization. Jason hoped she felt something for him. She always treated him nicer than she did any of the other guys, and her eyes lit up when she saw him. Her smile was the only thing that made this miserable existence bearable. That was why trying to have him scrubbed from the mission hurt so much. Sasha should be supportive like a girlfriend. Instead, she made his decision for him, just like his mother would.

  Taking a deep breath to calm his anger, Jason pushed aside the door and stepped inside.

  Most of the gun team members sat around workbenches either cleaning their weapons or preparing spare magazines of ammunition. The weapons the search and destroy teams used were 5.56mm FAMAS F1 automatic weapons liberated from an overrun military camp they had stumbled across near Caen a few months ago. Firearms reserved for the local defense included a collection of rifles and semi-automatic weapons carried by those who had migrated to the city, and which Jacques had confiscated. Side arms consisted of pistols of various makes and calibers. A huge selection of melee weapons hung from one wall of the church and included almost every type of instrument that could be useful in hand-to-hand combat: hunting knives, bayonets, crowbars, clubs, axes. Most team members, however, preferred machetes. The area behind the nave contained larger items raided from museums all over the area, everything from pikes and glaves to maces and morning stars, although these were reserved for defending Mont St. Michel in case any Hell Spawn breached the city’s walls.

  The mainstay of the teams’ arsenal consisted of the two miniguns, which they had confiscated from abandoned vehicles inside the Caen military encampment. The chief gunsmith had taken great care in adapting them for personal use. He had developed backpacks that carried close to ten thousand rounds of 7.62 mm ammunition in one continuous belt, enough for nearly two minutes of constant firing. The miniguns were easily reloadable, so each team assigned two members to carry spare packs. Even using lightweight material where possible, each backpack weighed over thirty pounds. Sasha and Haneef had the added burden of carrying the miniguns, which weighed thirty-five pounds each. Jason had no idea how they lugged around so much gear. Sasha had let him try on her minigun once, and he could barely stand let only move around.

  Sasha stood at one of the workbenches, feeding a belt of ammunition into one of the backpacks. The sight of her made his heart skip, and for a second he almost forgot his anger. Jason took another deep breath and approached from the opposite side of the workbench.

  She saw him and beamed. “Are you here to pick up a firearm?”

  “I’m fine with my crossbow, thanks. I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

  The smile melted from Sasha’s face. “That little shit Andre told you what I said at the briefing?”

  Jason nodded. “It bothers me that you don’t think I’m tough enough to go to Paris with the rest of you.”

  “That’s not what I said.” Sasha leaned forward so the others could not hear the conversation. Auburn hair fell across her face. “I said you were too young.”

  Of all the answers Jason had planned for, he had not expected this one. He stumbled for the right words, and instead let his emotions get in the way. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “It’s nothing personal. You’re a good fighter. But most of us probably won’t be coming back from this one. If we don’t, somebody who knows what they’re doing has to stay behind and train the next generation of fighters.”

  “Bullshit!” Everyone turned to Jason at his outburst, and then nervously looked away and pretended nothing had happened.

  Sasha stiffened yet tried to remain calm. “Jason, please don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do what? Stand up for myself?”

  Sasha lowered her head, breaking eye contact.

  “You think I’m only a kid.”

  “That’s not it.”

  “You’re treating me like I’m your little brother.”

  “I’m trying to protect you.”

  “My mother always tried to protect me. A lot of good that did.” Jason’s venomous response surprised himself.

  He paused, waiting for a reply. Finally, Sasha mumbled, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You know I have to go with the rest of you.”

  “Why?” snapped Sasha.

  “I bear responsibility for opening the Hell Gate. I should be the one who closes it.”

  Sasha folded her arms across her chest. “You need to stop taking the guilt of the world on your shoulders. You are not responsible for opening the Hell Gate. Your mother is.”

  The comment about his mother struck Jason hard. He felt his face flush with anger. He wanted to lash out, to say something cruel that would hurt Sasha as much as she had hurt him. The words never came. All he could think to say was,
“You’re supposed to be my friend.”

  Sasha lowered her arms and bowed her head. “I am. Only a real friend would tell you the truth.”

  Jason stared at her for several seconds, hoping for an apology. None came. He noticed that the others were glancing up from their work to see how he would react. Only then did he realize that Sasha had made a fool of him in front of everybody. The one person he felt affection for, the one person that gave him a reason to get out of bed in the morning, the one person who had made him feel like a man rather than a teenager, had just emasculated him in front of others. He had come here to set things straight and now felt worse than before as well as humiliated. Mustering what dignity he had left, Jason spun around and stomped away. As he stormed out, he said, “I thought you liked me.”

  Hurrying down the church steps, he headed back to the hotel, holding back his tears.

  Sasha watched Jason barge out of the church and disappear into the courtyard. She wanted to run after him and apologize. As a team leader, it would not have been appropriate. It would have shown weakness on her part, and she couldn’t afford that, especially with what lay ahead of them. She had only wanted to protect Jason and instead had upset him.

  The confrontation also pained her. Though she never would admit it to anyone, his last words had struck home.

  You have it all wrong, you jerk, she thought. I love you.

  Chapter Nine

  The search and destroy teams gathered outside of King’s Gate, jammed in between the front façade of the hotel and the city’s perimeter wall. The horses snorted and shook their heads. Every few seconds, one of the animals would shift its weight from one set of hoofs to the other, bumping into the horse crammed in beside it. They were anxious to break free of the confined area and get out into open country. Even Lucifer and Lilith, who crouched underneath Jason’s horse, seemed eager to get moving. Jason didn’t share their enthusiasm. For all his bluster that afternoon to Sasha about needing to go with them to Paris, at this moment he would be quite content to stay here. He knew that once the group left Mont St. Michel, most of them would never make it back.