“How’re things going?” asked Cullen. “Still reckon there’s a price on your ’ead?”
Tony sighed. “Used to be I could read a man in the time it took to lace up my boots. Lately though, I don’t know a fart from a flute. It disappoints me, after all we’ve been through, that men like Thomas can still make pawns of us all.”
Cullen shrugged one shoulder and pulled a face. “The world has changed but people haven’t – maybe they never will. There’ll always be good guys and bad guys, and we have a part to play in which side wins.”
“I’m glad you’ve got my back, Cullen. If this coach belonged to Mass and his team, we might be getting close. There’re no bodies inside, which means there’s still hope of finding Mass and his team alive. Let’s get back to the road. We’ll make camp and resume our search at dawn.”
“Roger that, Colonel.”
Cullen trudged up the embankment and Tony followed behind. He glanced back at the smashed-up coach several times, wondering what had become of the people who had been inside it.
Crimolok senses fresh prey. Although he is a being above such petty emotions as joy or excitement, he is savouring the methodical, merciless hunt of mankind. His desire to rid the universe of humanity is coming to fruition, but there is no rush. To Crimolok, time is a glacier.
A nest of humans festers nearby, their stink unmistakable. Already, his legions are drenched with death, deformed bodies covered in chunks of gore and filth. Their hunger is endless. With Crimolok’s tendrils deep inside their minds, they are bestial.
Crimolok senses something else besides human meat. Something ancient – as ancient as he. The sickly scent of an adversary washes over him, a creature from the other place – the place where Crimolok was born at the beginning of time.
Mass had never expected to ever take another breath outside again. He’d been certain of dying inside that dreary old cottage, but instead he’d been saved. Rick Bastion, once a cheesy one-hit pop star, had appeared and healed him like a modern-day Jesus. And Mass didn’t just feel healed, he felt renewed, as if brand new cells had replaced the old. He’d been reborn. The women were doing better, too, which was good to see. For all he knew, they could have been playthings for Nas and his sick followers since day one. He had to get them back to Portsmouth. They deserved to be safe.
“Maria,” he said to the woman who’d become the unofficial spokesperson for the rescued females, “keep the ladies in the middle while we march. I’ll take the lead with Rick. Addy, Smithy, and Tox will take the rear. You’ll be safe.”
Maria nodded, but who knew if she believed him or not. They had no weapons and no vehicle. If any more demons stalked the vicinity, they’d be forced to fight hand-to-hand – and he wasn’t sure they could pull off a miracle for a second time. While Mass felt renewed and energetic, everyone else was clearly fatigued. They’d eaten, but not enough. They’d slept, but not enough. And now they were back on the road, miles from safety.
“We’ll go as far as we can make it today,” he told everyone, “and then find someplace to rest for the night. Any luck, we’ll reach Portsmouth by tomorrow evening.”
“Luck is an empty notion,” said Rick, but everyone ignored him.
The women smiled and exchanged glances with one another, while Addy and Tox closed their eyes as if imagining their return. Smithy chuckled. “Can’t wait to visit the arcades and get an ice cream. Hey, do they still have those grabber machines with the teddies? Shitting things are fixed if you ask me.”
“Portsmouth’s changed a lot recently,” said Addy, “but the seagulls still steal your chips.”
They formed up on the road and reached a steady pace. Their footsteps echoed quietly. Trees swayed on either side of them. It was getting colder as winter closed in, but today was mild bordering on pleasant. Growing up on the streets of London gave Mass an appreciation of everything green, and perhaps his happiest childhood memory was going to London Zoo with his mum. Until that point, he’d thought life was only paved and covered in graffiti. Regent’s Park had blown his mind. It pained him that he wouldn’t ever raise his own family and take them to a zoo. He’d lost things he hadn’t even realised he’d lost.
We’ve all lost so much.
He focused on the road ahead, but they didn’t make it half a mile before the group halted in the middle of the road.
Smithy looked around with a confused look on his face. “Did anyone else feel that?”
Mass had definitely felt something, like the ground itself had shifted beneath his feet. Even now he could sense a mild thrumming in the soles of his boots.
The ground shook again. It wasn’t a full-on quake, more a subtle wavering. If they hadn’t been marching in silence, they might never have noticed.
The ground shook a third time.
“Okay,” said Smithy, “I feel like a T-Rex is about to burst out of the trees and fuck us up. The ground is shaking, right?”
The ground shook again.
Mass looked around, worried by the threat he didn’t see. “We don’t know what’s happening, but it doesn’t change what we need to do. Move!”
They resumed marching, this time at a quicker pace, but the tremors kept on coming. In fact, they seemed to grow more intense. Was something getting closer? Something that had spewed forth from the giant gate Mass’s actions had summoned?
The question answered itself.
Maria was the one who screamed first. She pointed down the road behind them, to where the tarmac met the sky.
Smithy’s eyes opened wide. “Holy shitting Cheerios!”
Mass’s blood ran cold. This was all
