19
Something is wrong.
A part of Crimolok shivers, a sense to which he is a stranger. Something beneath his conscience is crying out.
His tether is under threat.
Something is trying to interfere with his plans. His enemies seek to weaken him while his back is turned.
The gate.
His enemies are fools, not knowing the futility of what they do. Yet they cannot be ignored. He will find them and eviscerate them. They will pay.
Portsmouth is finished. His legions will destroy what is left. Crimolok turns and heads for the gate.
Mass sees Hell. He sees what Vamps must have seen. Fire and flesh. Burning. Screaming. Oozing blood. Twisted monsters. Cancers and boils grow from every surface. It goes on forever. An eternity of pain and misery.
Then he sees the star-filled night sky. He sees autumn trees and black roads illuminated by the glowing of the gate. He is swinging backwards, away from the lens. Back out of the gate.
Then his movement stops and he is suddenly swinging forward again, speeding towards Hell for a second time.
No, please, I can’t!
Mass passes through the lens once more and is back in that place of agony and despair. Somehow it is even more terrifying as he hears the most pitiful of moans. People cry out for mercy, millions of desperate souls. Hooks tear at their flesh. Insects burrow into their eyes.
And then he is out again, swinging through the starry night.
“Nothing’s happening,” said Addy’s voice through the radio on his harness. She sounded confused, desperate. “You keep coming back out. The gate isn’t closing.”
Mass couldn’t take another dose of Hell. He couldn’t go back willingly now that he had experienced it. Universe be damned. “Pull me up, pull me up.”
Immediately the cable yanked him upwards, the helicopter banking to the left and whipping him away from the gate just as he was about to pass through it a third time.
There were tears in his eyes and his body was trembling. His heart thudded in his chest. He realised he had wet himself.
He didn’t understand it. Every time he’d seen a person pass through a gate it had instantly exploded, taking out any nearby demons along with it. He had never seen a person pass in and out before. What had gone wrong? What was he missing?
Smithy came on the radio. “Big man, your plan ain’t working.”
“I know. Damn it, I know.”
“What you want us to do?”
“Just pull me back up. Please, get me out of this harness. I can’t breathe.”
“Okay, buddy. Hold on.”
The cable shortened. A minute later, Addy and Smithy were yanking him back inside the helicopter. Smithy slammed the sliding door shut behind him.
Mass slumped onto one of the benches and vomited. Addy rushed over and rubbed his back. He was quaking. “Mass, what’s wrong?”
“He stared into the abyss,” said Angela, standing at the rear of the cabin. “No one gets a dose of Hell without at least puking. It gets better after a while, but the first time is always the worst.”
Mass straightened up and wiped his mouth. “She’s right. It was… No, you don’t need to know. I’m glad I’m out, but what went wrong?”
Angela shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Crimolok isn’t your regular demon and this ain’t your regular gate. Living souls aren’t supposed to pass through the seals, but I don’t think this gate is one of the seals. It’s not a lock like the others, it’s a doorway. You can’t break a doorway.”
The living Damien emerged from the cockpit, his messy brown hair stuck to his clammy forehead. He looked curiously at Mass. “This gate leads to Hell though, right? Whatever it is, it’s part of the tapestry. All gates are.”
Smithy frowned. “Part of the what now?”
“He said the tapestry.” The undead Damien stepped forward and scratched the back of his shaved skull. “Think of it like the universe’s transport system. During this war, you’ve gotten pretty good at destroying the odd country road here and there, but this big sonofabitch is a motorway. It’s going to take something stronger than a single human soul to put it out of commission.”
Mass clutched his stomach, trying not to puke again – trying not to think about the things he had just seen. He would never unsee them. “What will it take?”
The two Damien’s looked at each other. The living Damien sighed and said, “The soul of a path walker would probably do it.”
Smithy frowned. “A what now?”
The living Damien went on. “If a path walker passes through a gate not summoned by themselves or other path walkers, then…”
The dead Damien finished the sentence. “Then shit gets fucked up.”
Addy folded her arms and huffed. “Sounds like the best plan we’ve had all day.”
Mass collapsed on the bench and threw back his aching head. “Looks like I’m the wrong guy in the right place. Where do we find a path walker?”
Both Damien’s looked at one another. Neither looked happy, but only the living Damien spoke. “You’re looking at two of them.”
Smithy was still struggling to understand, causing a delay they couldn’t afford. “So, if one of our Damiens passes through the gate, it will, like, blow the back end out of the universe?”
The living Damien grunted in frustration. “It’ll tie the tapestry in knots, breaking the connections between different worlds. It would make it impossible for Crimolok to ever leave here and attack God. Whatever few remaining Earths that are left would be safe. Heaven would be safe.”
Smithy nodded. “But we’re screwed either way, right?”
Mass sighed. “We were screwed the moment the first gate opened, man. This mission was never about saving us. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, at least we had fun, right? We gave the bastards hell. You jumped out of a helicopter and pissed yourself.”
Mass looked down at his wet trousers and blushed.
Angela tittered.
“I need to go down on the winch,” said the living Damien. “Same movie, different actor.”
One of the pilots shouted back, “Better do what you’re doing quickly because we’re
