Hellgate London - Exodus Part 44

Simon moved quickly, shoving his hands under her thighs and hurling her from the motorcycle with the armor's augmented strength. Flying through the air, she twisted like a cat, coming down on her feet thirty feet away. By then Simon's hands were on the handlebars. He kicked the gear shift lever into first, twisted the throttle as he let out the clutch, and shot out of the rail station. "Simon!"

Ignoring her, Simon called out to Wertham. "Where are you?" "Almost upon Charing Cross Station."

Simon roared along the rail, aiming for the demon standing at the middle of the bridge. "Keep a weather eye peeled," Simon advised. "If the bridge blows up before you get there, be prepared to stop."

" *If the bridge blows up'?"

"Just stay ready, Wertham. And wish me luck." Simon stayed low over the handlebars. Leah's voice was in his ears, cursing him for being a fool, then pleading with him to come back. Simon ignored it all.

Instead, he thought about his father, about all the lessons his father had given him, and how he was never going to be able to tell his father how much all those memories meant to him now.

He knew,Simon reminded himself.There wasn't much that got by him. He knew. Simon took some solace in that. Even if he died, he would die the way his father had taught him to.

Something was wrong.

Warren knew that when he saw the train was slightly slowing down. They were almost up on Charing Cross Railway Station now and he thought that might have been part of the reason. The flock of Blood Angels raced on.

Fear rattled around inside Simon's head as he raced toward the demon. Shadows stood behind the demon, partially hidden in the falling snow and the thick fog that covered the river below.

If the demon was one of the Eldest, or even a Dark Will, Simon might not be able to kill it. And if he didn't kill it, he was certain that it was going to kill him.

You don't have to kill it,Simon reminded himself.You only have to destroy whatever means Merihim intends to use to blow up the bridge. Or manage to keep him from doing it long enough for the train to get by.

Simon took some heart that Merihim wasn't a name known to him. Maybe the demon wasn't as strong as he could have been. Maybe through whatever course he'd chosen to follow, Merihim hoped to become one of those.

If so, he was still weak enough to be destroyed.

But he's more than powerful enough to defeat you.

Less than eighty yards away, the demon turned to face Simon. Taking heart in the fact that the demon was only a couple of feet taller than a normal human being, Simon drew the Spike Bolter from its holster and took aim, firing as soon as he had target acquisition.

The demon roared and covered his face with an arm as he slightly turned away from the onslaught. Then Merihim whipped back around, his fist engulfed in a whirling fireball that he threw at Simon.

As the train reached the more open area of Charing Cross Station, Warren urged the Blood Angels into greater speed. He drew his power into him, filling both of his hands with blazing b.a.l.l.s of energy.

The Blood Angels swooped forward, gaining on the train with difficulty, but gaining all the same. Warren looked for the motorcycle and the knight but saw neither. He threw the b.a.l.l.s of energy at the pulling engine.

Juking the motorcycle, Simon managed to evade the fireball the demon threw at him. Heat seared his skin as it approached. The fireball splashed against the ground where he would have been had he not changed directions. Immediately, the pavement puddled, turning semiliquid and bubbling.

Twenty yards away, Simon deliberately lost the motorcycle, turning it over on its side and sending it skidding across the rails toward the demon. He didn't know how fast he'd been going, but it was fast enough that the motorcycle caught the uneven surface and leaped like hooked fish into the air.

Incredibly, Simon's aim was true. Even whirling and flipping, the motorcycle stayed on course. It struck the demon in the chest, breaking apart, then exploding as the gas tank caught fire. The flames enveloped the demon, but Simon doubted that it would do anything to the creature.

By that time, Simon was sliding across the pavement as well. Out of control, he tumbled and skidded, willing himself to relax and let the armor take care of him the way it was supposed to. Trying to stop himself with an arm or a leg could get it broken even inside the armor's protection.

The world turned insane for a moment, filled with whirling images and near-nausea. The armor slap-patched him and the sickness went away.

Then he crashed into the side of the bridge and came to a halt. He struggled to breathe, only then realizing that he'd had the wind knocked out of him.

Glancing at the HUD, Simon saw that the train was only then emerging from Charing Cross Railway Station. He spotted the flying demons swirling around the pulling engine. Tracer-fire from Templar weapons burned brightly.

Hungerford Bridge took on a whole new vibration as the train hit the tracks.

Simon pushed himself to his feet, drew his sword from over his back, and ran toward the demon as it brushed the last of the motorcycle from its chest. Only then did Simon realize the shifting shadows behind the demon were real.

Hideous corpses stood packed tightly across the bridge. With the shadows and fog ripped away, an army of undead stood revealed. All of the zombies looked fresh from the grave, but Simon doubted any of them had ever been properly buried. The walking corpses shambled forward hesitantly, as if the vibration of the train shooting down the bridge had an effect on them.

Then Simon was on the demon, firing the Spike Bolter and swinging the sword.

Warren watched as the energy b.a.l.l.s struck the pulling engine, actually strong enough to rock the heavy locomotive to one side for an instant. Then it tilted back down, churning wheels once more on the rails.

The people inside the pa.s.senger cars screamed fearfully. They scrambled to resume their p.r.o.ne positions on the floor.

In the next moment, the train and Warren were outside the Charing Cross Railway Station. Warren urged the Blood Angel to greater speed as he reached for more of the reserves of his power. Two of the Blood Angels actually established holds on the pulling engine, but before they could do more than take a few ineffectual swipes at the men inside, Templar fire cut them to pieces and they dropped onto the pavement.

Just as he was about to throw the energy b.a.l.l.s, a Templar fired a steady stream of palladium spikes at the Blood Angel Warren rode. The spikes struck the creature in the head, killing it almost instantly.

Flailing weakly, the Blood Angel sailed over the side of Hungerford Bridge and promptly died. Directionless, the demon dropped, twisting like a broken kite.

Upside down, hanging on for dear life, Warren saw the black surface of the river coming up fast. He hit hard and his senses went as black as the water.

The demon growled at Simon and threw out its hand. Almost instantly, the demon rocked back on its heels as a trio of rockets from a Cl.u.s.ter Rifle slammed into it. Simon felt the detonations as he rushed toward his opponent. He kept firing the Spike Bolter, aiming for the demon's eyes. Some demons could regenerate, but even if the blindness were temporary, he hoped that it would be enough.

Another trio of rockets hammered the demon again, driving it back a couple of steps. Before it recovered, Simon was on it, slashing with the sword and opening large wounds to join those suffered from the rockets.

Through the HUD, Simon was aware of the train rocketing toward him, knowing that when it reached him it was going to pa.s.s him by in a second.

The demon caught his sword on the next blow, trapping his arms so he couldn't put much force into it. Simon kicked the demon in the crotch and yanked the sword free.

Instead of going down, though, the demon backhanded Simon, catching his helm. Even though the blow seemed weak, it still felt like he'd been hit by a truck. He spun away, barely able to keep on his feet.

He'd never fought anyone-anything -so strong. He was almost out on his feet from the impact alone.

Lifting the Spike Bolter again, Simon fired it point-blank at the monster in front of him as the zombies lurched into the fight. Turning the pistol on the zombies, Simon mowed them down. They were gross, blue-faced and vacant-eyed. Simon hated the idea of blasting the zombies because they'd once been human. The demons never had been.

The demon's attention turned back to the train. It lifted its hands and traced symbols in the air. Then it growled, or provided some verbal commands.

By that time, the train was already out over the river, racing toward them. Redoubling his effort to get to the demon, Simon slashed his way through the zombies to reach Merihim.

More rockets sizzled past him, but these struck fire from the bridge and not the demon.

Growling again, the demon swatted at Simon. Leaping at once, Simon cleared the blow, tucked, and flipped, firing the Spike Bolter the whole time. Then he holstered the pistol, seeing that the train was rushing at them, growing larger and larger.

Other weapons fire from the Templar aboard the train joined Simon's efforts. The demon staggered back, roaring with rage.

Landing on his feet, Simon took a two-handed grip on the sword and leaped to the top of the zombies nearest him. He ran across the undead army that had swarmed protectively around Merihim. Skulls crunched, necks snapped, and shoulders shattered beneath Simon's weight, but he reached the demon.

Merihim threw another fireball at him. It hit him, slowing his approach and setting several of the nearby zombies on fire. Simon drove himself forward, trusting the armor to hold even though the HUD was filled with warnings.

Then he reached the demon and his sword came alive in his hands. He slashed at the demon's head, driving it back. Runes carved into the demon's scaled flesh burned molten scarlet. The sword opened grievous wounds that revealed more scarlet, only this trickled down the demon's body.

Roaring with rage and pain, Merihim curled his hands into fists and struck back. The impacts shook Simon to his core, and for a moment he felt certain that he was about to die.

Then, on the HUD, he saw one of the Templar on the train raise a grenade launcher and fire a volley into Merihim. The grenades drove the demon back.

Taking advantage of the distraction, though he'd been buffeted as well, Simon stepped forward and plunged his sword through the demon's chest. Moving swiftly as the train reached him, Simon grabbed the bandolier of grenades from his shoulder and pulled the cord that popped all the pins. He looped the bandolier around Merihim's head, letting it settle over the demon's shoulders like a lethal necklace.

"Die, h.e.l.lbeast!" Simon shouted, grabbing his sword hilt and kicking Merihim in the stomach to drive him backward.

The demon tripped over one of the rails and went down in the midst of the zombies. Merihim reached for the grenades, but they went off before he could yank them away. The explosions ripped his upper body to shreds, but he remained alive.

Simon couldn't believe it. Even if Merihim wasn't one of the Eldest or the Dark Wills, the demon was hard to kill.

The communications band crackled to life inside Simon's HUD. "Simon!"

On the HUD, Simon saw that the train was on him then. A few of the Templar shot down a handful of Blood Angels that had continued pursuit. "Give me your hand!" Wertham shouted.

The train plowed into the zombies, shuddering from the impacts that threw undead bodies and pieces of undead bodies in all directions.

Wertham stood at the last car, one hand dug into the side of the car, the other extended to catch Simon's hand.

Simon turned and shoved his left arm out, thinking that Wertham was mad and they were both about to get killed. Their hands closed around each other's forearms, locking tight. Simon barely realized that before the train's momentum yanked him from his feet.

Confusion filled Simon's world for a brief instant as he collided with several zombies that the train had missed by inches. Then Wertham pulled him to the platform behind the pa.s.senger car and they fell in a heap.

By the time Simon forced himself to his feet, the zombies and Merihim were behind them, growing smaller as the train sped on. But the demon stood, weakly it was true, but it stood nevertheless. There was, however, no pursuit.

Now if we can just get out of London alive,Simon thought. He stared at the horizon through the swirl of snowflakes. London looked dark, like an infected body part that had died from gangrene and needed to be amputated. Dark clouds roiled around the h.e.l.lgate near St. Paul's. Blood Angels claimed the skies, sailing over the buildings.

Looking at the city, Simon couldn't help thinking that no one would ever again escape the death trap that London had become.

He hoped that wasn't true.

Epilogue.

Two days later, a convoy of rescue ships picked up the survivors the Templar had delivered from London to Bristol. One of the Templar had managed to find an outpost that sent the message out to the rescuers.

The ships sat at anchor out in the harbor as longboats powered back and forth to pick up the survivors.

It was early morning and the day seemed full of promise. For the first time in days, the sky was clear.

Captain Webber, a seasoned veteran who had once lived in London himself, stood with Simon and Wertham as they watched the survivors climb aboard the ships.

Simon stood on the sh.o.r.e in the sunlight, not minding the winter chill on his bare head. He held his helmet under one arm.

"You could come with us," Webber suggested.

Gazing at the people boarding the ships, Simon knew that he couldn't leave. He took a deep breath and let it out. "No, but thanks all the same. My place is here."

Webber turned and glanced north. Even in the distance, the smudge in the sky left by the presence of the h.e.l.lgate could be seen. A gray winter morning might have covered it up, but not the clear weather of today.

"London isn't a place for anybody these days," the captain said. "I grew up there, but I was in the city when the demons came. I was lucky to get out." He shook his head. "I don't want to go back there. I don't know if I ever will." The older man's eyes looked haunted.

"I've got to go back," Simon said. "Even with all the demons?"

Simon showed the man a grim smile. "That's my calling, captain. Just like the sea is yours. I know men who would never set foot on a ship to cross a sea."

Webber shook his head. "Well, those demons are one sea you can have to yourself. From what I gather in the news, n.o.body knows what they're supposed to do with them."

"The answers are there, captain," Simon said. "We've just got to look for them."

But he knew there were more questions than before, too. He was certain Merihim wasn't dead, and he'd wondered about the demon's agenda ever since Leah Creasey had told him what she knew.

And then there was the mystery of Leah as well. Who was she really? And who was she working for? It was a lot to think about, but it also meant that a lot of pieces were in play in London.

But one of the keys was Merihim. That was why Leah and her mysterious group had locked on the demon. If Merihim was disruptive among the demons, if he was working at cross-purposes to them in some kind of power play as Leah had suggested, there was a good chance more information about the demons would pop loose.

When Simon returned to London, he intended to find out as much about the demon as he could. But first he had to get his team rested and healthy again. Thankfully Bristol hadn't yet been invaded. There were still plenty of supplies inside the city, and they were relatively safe there. Except for the demon patrols that ranged the English coastline.

But it would be enough for a few days' respite. He intended to make the most of them. They would mourn their dead and care for their wounded, then-when they were able-they would head back to London.

The war for the city had just begun.

A high stone and wrought-iron fence protected Good Saints' Cemetery from vandals, but the gates exploded inward at Warren's gesture. Part of him didn't like what he was about to do, but another part looked forward to it because he'd never done it before.

Three days had pa.s.sed since he'd fallen into the River Thames and been thwarted in his attempted vengeance on the Templar that had taken his hand. He'd managed to save himself. For a time, though, he'd feared that Merihim would finish what the Templar had not.

But the demon's wrath had pa.s.sed and Warren had received further instruction. He was amazed at how quickly his power continued to grow.

Walking through the graveyard, Warren didn't worry about the demons prowling through the area. He was marked, to their senses at least, by Merihim's protection and knew they would give him a wide berth.

Demon-claimed, they called him. Warren wore that name willingly. Demon-claimed was demon-protected. Here, with the power he had and the demons in control of the city, he was a lord. And he was getting stronger.

He walked through the graveyard, looking for one marker in particular. When he found it, he sat on crossed legs and unleashed the spell that Merihim had given him to use.

An electric-blue fog rose up from the frozen ground, providing a foot-thick layer of cover over a large section of the graveyard. Then, after a long time, the dead began to crawl from their graves.

Since the cemetery was hundreds of years old, the zombies Warren awakened stood in all manner of dress, from knickers to modern khakis. Some were soldiers and some were slackers. Dead and mindless, they were just a force Merihim could use to build his army.

But the one Warren waited on took a bit longer, as if reluctant. But then that zombie too rose and stood before him.

The mortician had done a good job of putting the dead man's head back together after he'd shot himself, but Warren could still see where the bullet had gone through.