Infernal: Emergence Read online

  INFERNAL: EMERGENCE

  ©2017 Ricky Fleet

  First Edition

  Edited by Christina Hargis Smith

  Cover art by Jeffrey Kosh Graphics

  Published by Optimus Maximus Publishing, LLC

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead, or otherwise, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

  Electronic edition, License notes:

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the work of the author.

  ISBN-10: 1-944732-18-7

  ISBN-13: 978-1-944732-18-9

  DEDICATED TO

  I would like to dedicate this novel to my best friend; Kevin. We may be miles apart, but you and the family are always in my thoughts.

  I would also like to dedicate it to my three amazing children. You are my whole life and make me proud every single day.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I’m proud to include the 2 people who won the “Name a Demon” competition. Adam James Selby-Martin and Jason Morton who created suitably dastardly monikers for Hell’s Generals.

  My family, without whose support and patience I wouldn’t be able to get these crazy dreams written down.

  My friend, editor and publisher Christina. The journey is just beginning and long may our insane expedition continue.

  Jeffrey Kosh, who never fails to create an incredible cover for my works.

  And of course, all my friends and readers. Your support and kind messages keep me going through the niggling doubt.

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  The Infernal series was borne of a nightmare I had one cold, winters night. Waking from the dream, I immediately drafted a storyline which follows Malachi on his incredible, and horrific, journey. He too suffers from inexplicable nightmares, but they have a far darker meaning than anything I experience.

  I truly hope you enjoy the first installment of the Infernal series and will join me on the fraught path leading to the very gates of Hell itself. You haven’t known true horror until seeing what lies in the darkness, waiting for our sins to summon them forth.

  For upcoming news about future books, info about contests and prizes, or if you just want to chat, please follow me on my Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/Author-Ricky-Fleet-751475768315453/?fref=ts and on my publisher’s page at https://www.facebook.com/OptimusMaximusPublishing/ and on Twitter @AuthorRickFleet and @Optimaxpublish

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

  CHAPTER ONE

  “So what do you think about the latest offensive by the Government against the Outlaws?” whispered Paul over the office dividing wall.

  “It’s about time they dealt with those bastards,” replied his colleague Hector with a sneer.

  “I know, right? How has one country managed to hold out against the Syndicate Nations for all this time?” asked Paul, returning his focus to the scrolling monitors. Three wide and three high, the screens showed the comings and goings of several shops and the surrounding streets in his surveillance district.

  “We have just been toying with them, like a cat with a mouse. No, more like a lion and a mouse,” said Hector, “But the Chosen have obviously become tired of trying to bring them into the fold. Now they pay the price.”

  Paul thought about the war taking place and how his brother was faring. He was part of an elite infantry platoon that had been airdropped into the thick of the fighting several days ago.

  “Be safe, brother,” he said to himself.

  “He will be fine. They have the best tech and armor money can buy.” Hector grinned and Paul knew he was right. Their equipment was impervious to bullets and most of the resistance were only armed with rudimentary machine guns.

  There was a sense of euphoria growing in the office as the half hourly announcements over the tannoy detailed the gains of the Syndicate forces. City after city was falling to the brave soldiers and the Outlaws were in full retreat. A bank of TV screens showed in intimate detail the fighting from the reconnaissance drones, then switched to first person view of a squad of black clad troops as they breached a barricaded building. The smoke from the explosives curled around the aggressors as they rushed inside, raking the walls with fully automatic plasma weapons. Men, women, and children were cut down, flaring holes burned cleanly through their bodies. The soldiers were under orders to spare no one.

  “Yes,” whispered Paul with a fist pump, “Get those fuckers.”

  The scenes of death were arousing and he was glad to be seated at his desk or the telltale bulge would have betrayed him. Not that many people would have been judgmental about it; sexual freedom was one of the great betterments the Chosen Fathers had enshrined in the constitution. Disappointingly, the feed changed from the troops and switched to a heavily laden missile battery. The rockets streamed in blazing glory from rows of launching tubes into the distance, before the footage switched to the drone which was calling in the strike. Each missile impacted a concrete housing structure in quick succession and the screen lit up with righteous fire. Before the barrage was complete, the whole building crumbled into itself, but not before the aircraft zoomed in on the doomed people who begged for mercy on the rooftop.

  “Did you see that? The pathetic scum don’t even know what’s hit them,” Shelby purred, surprising Paul from behind. She reached down and cupped his balls, gently kneading them and then rubbing his throbbing erection.

  “Later,” Paul said breathlessly, pushing her hand away.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she gave him one more squeeze and walked away, looking back over her shoulder and blowing a kiss.

  “You lucky bastard, I can’t believe you get to bang that every night before going home. My wife still has issues about me touching other women, not that it’s stopped her opening her legs to the gym instructor,” Hector complained.

  “It’s law, she can’t stop you. If she keeps refusing we will report her,” Paul said, unable to look away from the TV screen and the incredible images.

  Hector burst out laughing, “Can you imagine the look on her face if they took her away for reeducation?”

  “Would serve her right. Selfish bitch.”

  “Hey, you need to get b
ack to work, look at feed fourteen twelve.”

  Paul looked at the corresponding monitor and a woman was trying to sequester a loaf of bread into a child’s stroller. He would have given her the benefit of the doubt, but the camera revealed her desperate eyes as they swiveled to and fro like a cornered animal. She carefully concealed the theft beneath another bag in the storage section under the seat. The blonde haired child was merrily kicking around and enjoying the bright colors on the food shelves, unaware his whole life was about to change.

  “Security, this is operative Charlie, echo, three eight nine,” Paul said into a small microphone mounted to his head.

  “Go ahead, Paul,” came a husky female voice.

  “We have a possible theft in progress in the district four food dispensary. Request sentinels to apprehend the suspect upon exit. She is approximately five foot three inches tall, with shoulder length brown hair. Beige long sleeved top with a white skirt. Facial recognition is running her details to find a match,” Paul explained.

  “We have her on our screens now. Thank you, Paul, sentinels are on the way,” said the erotic voice. What Paul wouldn’t have given to have a chance to meet the source of the teasing tones.

  Paul watched the target approach the payment machine and held his breath as she hesitated. If she had a change of heart and paid for the bread, the whole arrest would have to be called off. Looking around again, she decided to take the chance. After paying for the visible goods, she tried to calmly exit the building.

  “Got you now, bitch!” spat Paul, reaching over to high five Hector.

  The doors opened and four men pounced, throwing her to the ground with enough force to bounce her head from the pavement.

  “Ouch, I felt that,” giggled Hector, watching the blood start to stream from the head wound and pool on the pavement.

  The guards were dressed in brilliant white; boots, armored suit, and reflective helmet. They were the vanguard of the Chosen Fathers, those picked for their purity and loyalty to the cause. The infant was thrown out of the stroller and went sprawling to the ground while the guard pulled the bread out. In a daze, the thief frantically shook her head in denial, causing drops of blood to fly in every direction. Some of the scarlet liquid splashed the gleaming uniform of one of her captors and her face went from frightened to terrified in an instant.

  “That was silly,” Paul said breathlessly; he knew what was coming.

  The guard took out a small cartridge from his utility belt and barked an order over his shoulder. The small child was picked up by the back of his clothing and tossed like a rag doll into the holding cage of the waiting vehicle. Bones would have been broken by the savage throw, but as the child of a criminal, he no longer had any claim to rights. He would be brought up in the slave orphanage now. The woman shrieked and bucked under the sentinel who sat astride her and yanked her hair hard enough to tear some free of the scalp. The senior member of the team held the cartridge to the center of her forehead and pressed a button. A small flash of explosive drove the contents through the skull and into her brain.

  “I hope I never do anything to warrant a visit from the sentinels,” whispered Hector. The gadget was horrifying and he would often wake from nightmares where he had been caught committing subversive acts, the white guard reaching for him.

  It had been designed to act as a device used for memory reclamation before the victim was summarily executed. The silver disc on her forehead was the size of a quarter, with four thin barbs buried in her skin to keep it in place. The probe had tendrils that bored through the brain tissue and attached to the different regions, allowing the mind to be picked clean of any information that might lead to co-conspirators. Her face was contorted in agony, but enough damage had been caused to render her immobile. The nerves were left unaffected to ensure every bit of pain was fully appreciated.

  “Paul, look!” Hector cried, diverting his attention.

  On the huge TV screen, a group of soldiers was cheering with jubilation and firing into the air. On his knees at their feet was an old man who had been severely beaten, blood running from his nose and dripping from the chin. Dressed in black, with a small, square white patch in the center of his collar which was rapidly turning red.

  “The glorious forces of the Syndicated Nations have crushed the Outlaws. The head of the organization has been apprehended after surrendering following the use of small scale thermonuclear weapons on three of the larger cities. Reuben Marshall has been responsible for ordering innumerable incursions into Syndicate territory to steal the food of the hard working citizens of our great nation.”

  The figure swayed and nearly toppled to the side, but two burly, uniformed arms appeared at either side and held him roughly in place. Eyes rolling, he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

  “For these crimes, you have been sentenced to death. This just punishment is to be carried out immediately to alleviate the risk of any remaining bandits attempting to secure your rescue.”

  A soldier stepped into view behind the elderly prisoner with a wickedly shaped ceremonial knife. The mirrored visor of his battle helmet reflected the camera operator and the gathered figures of the conquering troops. Taking the blade in both hands, the executioner raised it above his head. A smile appeared on the prisoner’s lips and he started to recite a wrong-phrase.

  “May God have mercy on…”

  The knife was thrust downward with enough power to lift the soldier’s feet from the floor. The sound of shank piercing skull bone with a crunch burst from the speakers and everyone in the office cringed. The soldier tried to twist the killing blade to inflict further damage and humiliation to the victim. The only result was a ghastly shake of the dead man’s head, which made it look as if he was trying to deny his own demise. The commentator resumed the dialogue as the body slumped forward, displaying the vicious, gaping wound on the top of his cranium.

  “This is a glorious day in our history and the Chosen Fathers have deemed it worthy of a celebration. All non-essential personnel will be permitted to leave their designated placements one hour early for today only.”

  A cheer erupted in the office at the death of their mortal enemy and the chance of leaving an hour before schedule. Paul caught the look that Shelby shot him from her desk and smiled at the debauched acts they would carry out on one another.

  “Our forces will be continuing their efforts to liquidate the remaining pockets of resistance over the coming days. We know we can count on your continued vigilance and obedience as a new dawn approaches.”

  The TV screen showed the final seconds in the execution room as the remaining soldiers gathered around and shot the corpse indiscriminately, then blinked off to be replaced by the Syndicated Nations symbol.

  “It’s over, we have won!” shouted Hector, leaping from his chair. He grabbed Paul in a bear hug and swung him around, weeping with joy.

  “My brother can come home now.” Paul was crying with relief too.

  A scowling female supervisor listened carefully to her earpiece. They were never happy with a change to the normal routine, not even one granted by the highest power in the world.

  “All Class B operators are dismissed until tomorrow. Class A operators have been assigned essential and will finish as normal,” she screeched.

  “Fuck!” muttered Hector. As the senior surveillance operator in the pair he was to stay behind. Paul patted him on the back in commiseration and reached for his coat, intending to get to the hotel room early and prepare for Shelby’s arrival.

  “Did you want to meet up later at the pub for a drink?” Paul asked as he left.

  “Damn right. I’m going to fuck someone tonight even if I have to pay for it,” Hector chuckled at the thought of his wife smelling the scent of another woman on his clothing.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I am done with Shelby,” Paul winked at his mistress and left the building, the anticipation building.

  In the street the party had already started. Cars honked th
eir horns in between the armored sentinel trucks who prowled the night looking for wrongdoers. Random strangers ran up and hugged him, caught up in the carnival atmosphere. In the sky, the dark clouds promised a heavy rain but not even this could dampen the spirits of the revelers. One woman threw herself at him, her eyes were dilated from obvious drug use.

  “Are you coming?” said the beautiful brunette between sticking her tongue down his throat.

  “Coming where?” Paul asked, reaching into her blouse and squeezing her breasts.

  “There is a party in the square. Please say you’ll come, I am so horny I want to dance for a while and then fuck all night long.” She nibbled his ear and pushed his hand into her knickers, feeling the moist warmth within.

  Paul was conflicted between meeting Shelby and trying out his new companion, but he had an hour until she was due to meet him at the hotel.

  “I am supposed to be meeting someone,” he muttered between more kisses.

  “Bring him too.”

  “It’s a her,” Paul explained.

  A mischievous smile spread on her lips, “Well that could make for an interesting night. Is she pretty?”

  “Very.”

  “Would she be game for making love to me too?”

  “I guess we will find out soon enough,” Paul laughed and they linked arms.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance and the first flashes of lightning jumped between the clouds.

  “We are going to get wet,” he said as they made their way towards the screams and shouts of the gathered partygoers.

  “I’m already wet,” she answered, biting the corner of her lip.

  “I don’t even know your name,” Paul said.

  “That makes it more fun,” she giggled.

  From a side street a young man stumbled out, clearly heavily under the influence of alcohol from his babblings and the way he swayed. He fell on the pair and started to harangue them, wagging a finger inches from Paul’s face and hitting him accidentally several times.