All Hell Breaks Loose

June 13th

4:02 PM

Mariah Adams

“Seriously,” I had to shout at Malcolm over the roar of the waves and the boat engine. “That’s as far as the plan goes?”

“Yep.” Malcolm shouted back.

“What about food and water? What about the Demons? Where the hell are we even going?” I yelled.

The sound of Malcolm’s sigh was lost to the background noise, but I could tell he didn’t want to talk by the way his shoulders slumped. He dug around in a backpack beside him and produced an atlas from it after a brief moment. It was already open to the page he wanted to show me and he began pointing at the various landmarks as he spoke. “Evan tells me that the Demons are more interested in the cities than the wilderness and most people have seen ‘em headin’ south instead of crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. I reckon that since the Demons set up their shit over Oakland, they’ve already gone north through Berkeley and Richmond, but every emergency signal we’ve heard on radios and TVs say that San Rafael is a safe place for now. It’ll be a long hike, but it shouldn’t take more than a day to get there if we follow the right trails.”

A small feeling of relief washed over me as some semblance of a plan came together. “Good, I was thinking that some idiot was going to try and lead us through the hills and expect us to live on berries and twigs.” I snarked.

Slightly ticked off, Malcolm turned toward me as he put the atlas back in his bag. “Actually, that was my original plan. I ain’t keen on believing San Rafael is really safe after all this. I reckon by the time we get there, the Demons will have crossed the bridge between Richmond and San Rafael and wiped out the military. Now, I could be wrong, but I doubt that I am.”

Disappointed, I shook my head and went to go check up on Smalls. He had his head down, eyes firmly shut, and was rubbing his temples. I put a hand on his shoulder to grab his attention.

“Smalls, are you alright?” I asked.

“Shut up,” He didn’t look up as he spoke. “I’m trying not to be seasick. I fucking hate boats.”

I nodded knowingly and began working my way back towards my bag. The deck of the ship was slightly overcrowded and Malcolm had asked us not to move around too much, so naturally I was getting a few brief glares here and there as I went back and forth between Malcolm, Smalls, and my bag. I searched for any seasickness remedies that I might have brought, but that really wasn’t a problem I thought I’d be facing in the next few days.

It was a brief, but very tense trip across the water. The crackling thunder of gunfire grew louder as we drew nearer to the bridge and ebbed slowly away into the distance as we passed. As we sped along, I tried unsuccessfully to spot Evan on the bridge. Even though I couldn’t see him, I had a good guess as to which shots were his. The booms of his rifle were few and slightly far between, but after each shot he took, a Demon was virtually guaranteed to crash down into the water moments later. We landed roughly and dangerously on the shore of Kirby Cove. Since we were the last boat to come across, no one cared about reusing the boat at some later time. Malcolm seemed slightly sad to beach the vessel, but quickly began siphoning fuel into a surprisingly large metal tank on wheels.

I started shouldering everything that I could and asking for help carrying Smalls and his wheelchair off of the beach. Once we got to the trails ahead, and later roads, travel would be faster and slightly easier. On the hike up, I became lost in thought. Where can we really go from here? Even if we do manage to survive, we will never be able to go back to the way things were. My thoughts eventually turned to my home and my family in Chicago. I wondered if this invasion was worldwide or just local to where we were. Judging by the severe lack of a response from government agencies, I guessed that at the very least this had hit California and likely all of the United States fairly hard.

Malcolm seemed to take notice of my melancholy rumination. He started to keep pace with me and Smalls before offering his advice. “Look, kid,” Smalls shot him a brief glare as he started. I couldn’t tell if he took offense at Malcolm’s wording or if he just didn’t want to be bothered. Either way, Malcolm felt the need to trade glares. “Oh, knock it off. When you’re my age, everyone’s a kid. Anyway, I know this seems like the end of the world and, hell, I’ve met more people preachin’ Hellfire and brimstone in the past week than I have in the last fifty years, but this probably ain’t gonna be how it all ends. Everyone here has enough food on ‘em to last a week, maybe more, and I’m sure that each and every one of us could have found a good reason to stay behind and not leave our homes despite everything going on, but we didn’t. We all chose to leave behind everything we’d made for ourselves in San Francisco because we believe there’s something better to be had by headin’ north. One way or another we’re gonna get through this.”

I found little comfort in his words, but nodded nonetheless. All I felt that I could do was put one foot in front of the other and continue trekking past abandoned homes and businesses in the towns we passed through. I noticed Malcolm trying to stay close by our side as we traveled and Smalls trying to hide how much pain he was really in. Minutes turned into hours and people began to regain hope. It was so much quieter on the other side of the bay. There were no corpses we could see strewn across the streets, but there were still signs of fighting. We traveled onward through relatively empty streets in silence. The soldiers and volunteers we were with kept on high alert for even the smallest signs of movement.

The day melted away and the sun finally set behind the horizon, but by then we were close to our destination. We continued our long walk and managed to reach San Rafael by nine o’clock at night. It was dark and beginning to cool down. I thought we would have trouble finding where we were supposed to be heading. Malcolm did too. We were both proven wrong. We found the one place that still appeared to have working electricity. Malcolm was absolutely astounded that the national guard had actually managed to set up a safe haven, but was quick to accept any aid that was offered. With a new spring in all of our steps, we quickly jogged toward a fence surrounding a somewhat dilapidated, old community center. It was patrolled by several armed guards who noted our approach and left the fence to meet us. They were disciplined and diligent soldiers in clean uniforms, a sight I felt like I hadn’t seen in far too long. They carried assault rifles I didn’t care to know the name of and bags filled with bottled water.

One by one they shined a flashlight in our eyes. Assuming we were both on the same page, they must have been screening to make sure none of us were Hell-spawn. When the soldiers were reasonably assured that none of us had been consorting with Demons, we were allowed inside and shown to rooms crowded with people and cots for sleeping. We were given blankets and bottles of water before laying down for some much needed rest.

I couldn’t help but fall back into some semblance of a routine. I checked, double checked, and triple checked the people in my group to make sure they had everything they needed. There would be no sleep for me even though I could feel my entire body growing heavier by the minute.

At some point, I noticed that Malcolm had slipped away without telling anybody. Out of sheer curiosity, I decided to search for him.

***

Malcolm Stewart

10:13 PM

Of all the places I thought I’d end up, tied to a chair with a few fat, red lumps on my head while being interrogated by some dipshit twenty or thirty years younger than me was probably the last on that list. He sent out a couple of goons earlier to pull me aside. They escorted me to some office away from where everyone was sleeping, then knocked me out, tied me to a chair, and slapped me awake a little while later.

Now, I was in the process of being interrogated by some Staff Sergeant Greenfield who wouldn’t even give me his first name.

“So let me get something straight,” I growled at him. “Do you know who Evan is or not?”

“It’s like I said,” he replied again. “I’ve heard of him, but I haven’t met him yet. Look, all I want to know is whether or not you were actually traveling with him and where he might be now.”

None of his bullshit made any sense. When he started asking about Evan, it’s like he was talking about an old friend, but then he claims they’d never met. He wanted to know how long we’d been traveling together, but refused to say how he knew that we were. Whenever I ask him if he heard that from someone else in our group, he’d say yes, but their name was never important.

“Yeah, you had a different story five minutes ago, jackass.” I snapped. “So, let me ask you again, do you know who Evan is or not?”

The man sighed. “Alright, let me make something clear. That portal to Hell isn’t going to close itself, so I’m putting together---”

“BULL! SHIT!” I shouted. “You think you’re gonna put together some team of superheroes to go close a portal to Hell?! Bullshit! I don’t believe that for a fucking second! What do you want with Evan and why the fuck am I tied up?!”

He rolled his eyes and started addressing the two goons standing behind me. “We’re not getting anywhere with this one. Find me someone else and I’ll deal with him later.”

“What do you want us to do with him now, sir?” The younger one asked.

“For now, just lock him in a janitor’s closet for all I care. Oh, and gag him so he doesn’t make any noise. We wouldn’t want panic spreading anytime soon.”

“So, why all the smoke and mirrors, huh?” I snapped at him. “If you had asked me nicely without hitting me over the head, I probably would’ve been less pissed off at you.”

“I’m sure you would have, Mr. Stewart.” He replied nonchalantly like this had become routine, but he let something very, very dangerous slip.

“When the hell did I ever tell you my last name?” My voice hushed as I began to put together what was really going on.

“It was on your ID.” He dismissed.

“Oh, right. You must’ve found that on the wallet I lost about three hours into the invasion.” He was behind me now and I was craning my neck to try and get a good look at him. “How many of you are Hell-spawn?”

I could feel him start staring a hole in the back of my head. In a quiet voice he started talking to the goons that tied me up. “I might have to deal with this one sooner than I thought. I’ll be back in an hour. Make sure he doesn’t talk to anyone while I’m gone.”

“How many of you are Hell-spawn?” I asked again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said as the door closed behind him.

I might not understand any of the specifics, but whatever magical mumbo-jumbo could make Evan look human, probably worked for the Demons too.

Shit! I wonder if they can read minds...I should prob’ly stop thinkin’ that. Shit!

All the gears in my head were spinning at a million miles an hour while I took better stock of my surroundings. The ropes around my arms and ankles were super loose. Whatever dipshit tied me up couldn’t tie knots to save his life. Windows were boarded up. No way it’d be quiet trying to break out. As the staff sergeant walked away, the two younger goons started discussing trying to move me. One pair of boots walked away into the distance. That meant there was only one more dumb punk outside the door. Left hand free. Right hand free. Legs free. Everything was too easy. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. This had to be a trap.

Fuck it! The more time I waste here, the less time I’ll have to figure out what’s going on.

I grabbed the doorknob and slowly tried to test it. The lock was on my side. There’s no way this wasn’t a trap. They couldn’t possibly be this stupid, could they?

As soon as the door was open, I found myself face to face with a young army cadet who seemed genuinely surprised I’d gotten out. He panicked and wheeled his rifle toward my face. I caught it in one hand and looked him dead in the eye.

“Go ahead, cause a ruckus, son. I’m sure your boss would love that.” I eyed the kid’s trigger finger and silently thanked God that this kid left the safety on. “Now, I don’t know why your boss is such a dick to people he just met, but I’m sure as hell gonna find out. Way I see it, you’ve got two options: either you can come with me and help me figure this shit out OR you can sit down in that chair and I can show ya how to actually tie someone up.”