Demon Gate: Beyond the 9th Circle: The Rapture Was Just The Beginning.

I remember the day the first portal
opened. It happened the day after millions of
people inexplicably vanished around the world.
Nobody knew what was going on. Most thought
it was the rapture and that the wrath of God
would soon be upon us. There wasn’t any other
way to describe the chaos and panic that hit like a
bolt of lightning.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, the portals. The
first one opened in New York City; they never
saw it coming. Nobody could have predicted
what would emerge from it, or the destruction
and immeasurable loss of life it would cause.
Things went from bad to worse; from alarm and
wonder to abject fear and panic. An explosion
was rumored to have devastated Times Square
and most of Manhattan and other portals were
reported in cities across the eastern seaboard and
beyond.

And that was only the beginning. Within
moments, the streets of New York City became a
graveyard. I barely escaped New Jersey with my
life, leaving Newark just before a portal opened
there. I was one of the lucky few. Billions died
that day.

I was just running blindly – trying to stay
ahead of the slaughter. It wasn’t until I got to Las
Vegas that I realized the terrible truth. The
armies of hell had just started a war with us, and
they were winning. We were outmatched and
vastly outnumbered. Only a miracle could save
us.

Rain fell over the city that never sleeps
while lightning made a futile attempt to light up
the ever darkening sky. An ominous feeling
settled over the city like a dark fog, growing
thicker by the second. The usual assortment of
sounds and smells assaulted each New Yorker as
they went about their business.

Yet the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple
appeared oddly slow in Times Square. That’s
when it began, starting as a small point like a
minute black hole. The dark spot quickly
expanded, the size of a beach ball, growing
larger. The dark sphere emitted a tormenting,
almost malevolent aura as it hovered six feet off
the ground. It fed on the gloom, quickly
overtaking the city, sapping it of what little good
was left.

Spencer Garza pulled up to a house with a
poorly maintained lawn. Rain had been coming
down hard most of the night and well into the
morning. The neglected yard looked drowned, it
had given up.

Spencer stepped out of his jet black 1972
Pontiac GTO, scanning the surroundings as he
closed the car door. It was a modest home, old
but sturdy, and only one story tall. The outside
boasted mostly red bricks with a few tan ones
patched in, indicating minor repairs here and
there. Spencer’s friend, Eric, lived here with his
grandparents. He slowly climbed the three wide
stone steps leading up to the porch and a security
screened door, which was usually locked after
sunset. The floorboards creaked as he stepped
onto the front porch. Spencer reached up and
pressed the doorbell hard.
The falling rain pelted Spencer. It was not going
to let up. He pulled the zipper of
his leather jacket up to his chin.

Spencer was twenty years old. He came
from a Latin American family. He had a
muscular physique and stood just under six feet
tall. He was handsome enough that in his teens he
had been offered a modeling contract. He had
passed, his macho Latin roots rebelling at the
idea. Working with his hands gave him the
feeling of being strong and in control. Spencer
used his good looks in other ways, but made his
living from good old hard work.

His father was Guatemalan, and had not
gone in for hard work. Spencer learned well
when his father was set up by higher executives
and framed for an embezzlement crime he didn’t
commit. Arrested on circumstantial evidence and
witnessed against by the real crooks, Mr. Garza
was later acquitted but the damage had been done
to his job and reputation. The family relocated to
Florida and started over again with nothing but
the clothes on their backs. Young Spencer was
determined to never be caught in that sleazy
world and he would earn and live by his own
labor.

Spencer’s mother had been a nurse who
went to Los Angeles to help with a triage unit in
2012, only to be gunned down in cold blood
while treating a gunshot victim in the middle of
the street one night. The police determined it to
be another case of gang violence, a group getting
rid of another Latino they believed was illegally
entering the country. The strain of that on top of
his ruined reputation was more than Mr. Garza
could take. He died from a heart attack mere
months after his wife’s death.

That was when Spencer moved up to New
Jersey for work. He made few but good friends,
and Eric was one of these.

“Spencer!” an old woman shouted from
inside the door. Eunice Fredricks was born at the
trailing edge of the great depression and was
approaching eighty as evidenced by her silvery
hair and a face cloaked in wrinkles. “What are
you doing here so late?” Eunice asked as she
unlocked the screen and opened it.

“I’m looking for Eric.”
“I’m sorry, but my grandson isn’t here,”
Eunice replied. Her demeanor appeared agitated
and she had bags under her eyes from sleep
deprivation and tears.
“Did he disappear too?” Spencer asked,
stomach dropping, recalling frantic screams from
several people in his neighborhood the night
before.
“No. Eric went to the city, looking for
work.”
“Oh, alright,” Spencer responded in relief,
but her reddened eyes seemed to say more than
she was letting out. “And how is your husband?”
Spencer had only heard a vague account
of Mr. Fredrick’s departure, and figured the guy
probably skipped town. It was just politeness to
inquire and show some concern. Eunice stepped
out onto the porch, keeping one hand on the
screen door to hold it slightly ajar. She glanced at
Spencer’s old-fashioned vehicle and used it to
deflect not only his question, but the fear and the
concern it dredged up.
“That’s quite a car. My oldest son had
one before he died.”
“Thanks,” Spencer replied, elated,
charged at any chance to brag on his vehicle.
“I’ve had a few special parts custom made for
this beauty. I turned her into a gas/electric hybrid.
She’s more fuel efficient than anything else on
the road. I could go twenty-five hundred miles on
a single tank,” Spencer boasted
The old woman briefly looked back
inside, then back to Spencer.
“But, Mrs. Fredricks, you’re dodging my
question.” Spencer gulped, knowing full well that
he may have overstepped his bounds. “So, where
did your husband go? Is something wrong?”
Eunice grimaced as she hung her head,
and her hands came up to her face and caught the
unstoppable tears.
“He’s gone,” Eunice confessed, hesitantly
meeting Spencer’s gaze.
“What do you mean?”
Eunice shook her head with agony. “He
just disappeared. He was right in front of me, and
he just disappeared.”
Eunice started to weep again and Spencer
took her in his arms. What was he supposed to
say?
I’m sorry your husband vanished?
Eunice
pushed back, and wiped most of the tears away
and changed the subject. Her husband’s
disappearance was as painful a subject as it was
disconcerting. She didn’t know what to make of
it, if he had gone to heaven or hell and why she
wasn’t taken with him.
“So, how’s work?” Eunice asked at
length. “Are you still working at that garage
across town?”
“No, they cut their labor. As it turns out,
the foreman was skimming money from the
budget. They’ll probably shut it down to do a full
review,” Spencer guessed. “I heard they’re just
going to close up shop and pocket the insurance
money.”
“So sad,” Eunice mourned. “You only
came to town a month ago with that job offer,
and you already have to start looking for a new
one.”
“Sounds like the horror stories my dad
used to tell me before he died,” Spencer quipped.
“You don’t you have any family that can
help you, do you?” Eunice asked.
“No,” Spencer replied, “I never had any
siblings, and my parents both died a few years
ago. I don’t even have a girlfriend. No time.”
Rain pelted off Spencer’s skin and neatly
trimmed hair as the woman peeked back into her
home, and Spencer suddenly realized she was
checking the television.
“Excuse me, my show is back on,”
Eunice said and disappeared inside the
house.
Spencer nodded then returned to his GTO. He
had scarcely opened the driver’s side door when
he heard Eunice exclaim, “I don’t believe this!”
Concern drove him back to Eunice’s front door.
“Mrs. Fredricks?” Spencer called out.
After a few moments Eunice came to the
door. “Spencer, you’re not going to believe this.
They’ve blocked off Times Square.”
“Who’s blocked off Times Square?”
Spencer asked, only to have Eunice drag him
inside and point at the television.
“If you’re just joining us,” the on screen
reporter announced, “the President’s visit to the
Big Apple has been marred by some strange
occurrence. Apparently, millions of
disappearances were reported last night and
earlier this morning. Also, there is military
activity right here in Times Square. The armed
forces have cordoned off the area.”
The camera focused on what looked like a
black ball hovering above the ground. “This
strange phenomenon appeared overnight, but has
shown little apparent change since its reported
formation. Officials have released a statement
indicating the anomaly has been and is still
growing. Right now, there are no speculations
about its purpose or origin, but they are not
taking any chances. Air Force One is prepared to
evacuate the President from LaGuardia at any
sign of trouble, though officials don’t expect any
change to be hazardous as yet.
“Wait, something is happening!” the
reporter exclaimed as the strange black orb began
to drastically grow, expanding exponentially
before touching the ground and changing from its
round form.
“Are you getting this feed in the studio?”
the reporter gasped. “It looks like the orb has
opened into a large gateway.”
“I wonder if the military will send
something inside,” A reporter in the studio
commented.
“At this point I’m not sure what it is, and
I doubt the military is either...”
The report went on, but Spencer’s attention was
interrupted as Eric, breathing heavily, ran up the
steps and into the house. The door screeched and
shut with a bang.
“Grandma, did you see what’s going on
across the river?” Eric asked.
Spencer pointed at the screen and said,
“We’re watching it right now.”
Eric stared at the television. “It’s freaky,”
he gulped. “I heard the military is going to try
and send an unmanned drone through tomorrow,”
Eric explained.
Spencer rolled his eyes and disregarded
this as a rumor. Despite his skepticism there was
a gnawing feeling growing in the pit of his
stomach. At length he asked, “Where did you
hear that?”
“I was there an hour ago and I overheard
one of the soldiers say it.”
“Well, I don’t want you going over there
until they get this thing sorted out,”
Eunice commanded, turning up the volume on
the television.
Eric headed for the door but Spencer
stopped him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Spencer demanded.
Eric turned back and faced Spencer. “I’m
going back,” he grumped in a whisper. “I want to
get a better look at it.”
“Are you insane?” Spencer chided,
whispering as well. “God only knows what that
thing is. You should listen to your grandma.”
Eric was quick to counter, “I’ll be fine.
Just don’t tell her.”
Spencer threw up his hands. “You want
me to lie to the human lie-detector?”
“No, just don’t tell her everything,” Eric
suggested. “You can do it; you’re the best damn
poker player I’ve ever met.”
“Winning a couple of poker tournaments
doesn’t make me the best.”
“A couple of tournaments, are you
kidding? You took down Shawn Devlin, the
number one ranked poker player in the world.”
“Eric, something about this doesn’t feel
right,” Spencer urged, trying to focus his friend
on the crisis.
“You’re just being paranoid,” Eric
dismissed him.
“What about that time last week?”
Spencer offered. “Or last month when your
dad—”
“Okay, I get your point!” Eric conceded,
but was not willing to give Spencer the full
victory. “You have a great track record…of lucky
guesses.”
“Well, are you still going to rush into that
danger zone?” Spencer demanded.
“No,” Eric groaned.
Spencer nodded and left, but he figured
that Eric would go anyway, and something would
go wrong. Then he would get to tell Eric ‘I told
you so’ one more time. Spencer shrugged,
knowing there was nothing else he could say and
headed to his own home several blocks away.
The feeling of unease in his stomach
intensified as Spencer walked into his own living
room. Trying to ignore it, he dropped his keys
onto the mantle of the large fireplace, and looked
at the wall above it, where a picture of his parents
hung.
“Well, Mom and Dad,” he sighed, “I’m
home.”
Everybody always told him that he looked
like his father, but it was only in the last year that
Spencer really noticed it. His parents had been
dead only a few years, but he still missed them. A
tear of mourning trickled down his check, which
he quickly wiped away. He pushed the memories
of them out of his head. Push the feelings down
and deal with them later, that was how he dealt
with loss and loneliness.
Sitting down on his own couch, he
couldn’t shake the terrible feeling that gripped
him. He felt almost panicked, like when he was
in trouble and his father was about to discipline
him. It intensified and soon he felt the urge to
vomit. It was almost as though he were receiving
a warning of something sinister getting closer
and there was nothing he could do. So he decided
to try and get his mind off of the strangeness of
the day’s events by flipping on the television.
The only programs running were news coverage
and dramatic animations about the black object
on every channel.
Great, everything I do puts this thing back
in my head. It feels like I’m having a panic
attack.
Spencer glanced at the clock on the wall
beside the door, just in time to see it tick its last
tock. The clock stopped at 6:49 pm, only a few
minutes before sunset. He cocked his head and
stared when he noticed it wasn’t moving …
The front door abruptly swung open, and
Spencer scrambled to his feet to close it. But as
he reached the door he saw something that he did
not expect, stunning him momentarily with stark
confusion. There were hundreds, perhaps
thousands, of people from all walks of life, faiths
and professions gathered at his door. They were
just standing on his lawn, staring at him as if
waiting for him to give a speech or tell them what
to do. Each face was blankly staring; no
expression or hint of emotion. They stood like
automatons as though they were dead. Spencer
stepped outside and walked down an avenue of
people until they surrounded him and he just
couldn’t continue. He had no idea why he had
walked into them, he just did it.
They seemed to flock to him. He wanted
to ask them why they were there, but the words
just wouldn’t come out.
Then a voice filled Spencer’s ears. The
sound of the voice made Spencer cringe a little
and his eyes flashed around with suspicion and
fear.
“You need to leave,” it succinctly urged.
“Leave?” Spencer queried “But, this is
my home.”
“Something terribly evil is about to
arrive,” the voice continued, conveying a level of
urgency. “You need to leave the city.”
Spencer stared at the people that stood
around him, and his concern mounted. “What
about them?”
Silence hung in the air for a long moment,
before the voice spoke again.
“They’re already dead.”
To Spencer’s horror, every single person
that had been surrounding him was now lying
dead on the ground like snowflakes. Each one
was different from the next and it looked as
though their deaths were instantaneous. Their
bodies were arranged one atop another like
dominoes. Blood leaked from their eyes, ears,
mouths and noses. Color had drained from their
horror filled faces and this all added to the
feeling that whatever had happened to them had
happened fast. Suddenly, flies appeared, buzzing
around the numberless corpses.
Spencer heard a knock. His brow crinkled
in confusion as he searched for the source of the
sound. Before he had located it, a second knock
reached his ears, and he still couldn’t determine
its source, finally he heard a doorbell. It was his
doorbell!
Spencer awoke to realize he had fallen
asleep on the couch. It was morning. The
television stared at him, empty and black.
Spencer reached for the remote out of pure habit.
He flipped the television on to help rouse himself
before climbing to his feet to check the door.
It was his neighbor, Steve, who always
came to borrow, but never came to return.
Steve’s head looked like an upside down triangle
sporting rat-like teeth.
“What is it now, Steve?”
“Hey, neighbor. I was wondering if I
could borrow that lawnmower of yours, just for
this morning.”
Spencer wiped the crust out of his eyes
and sighed. “Like the chainsaw you borrowed for
a couple of hours last month? The one you still
have yet to return?”
Steve smiled. “Dude, I told you, it was
stolen last week when my house was broken into.
I’ll start paying you back for it, next paycheck.”
“Okay, that explains it,” Spencer
conceded, and Steve looked relieved that the
discussion on the chainsaw was over.
“But why were you using an identical
chainsaw two days ago?” Spencer shot out at
him; he couldn’t resist playing the guy. “Did the
thief return it, and then steal it again?” The smile
vanished from Steve’s face.
“I thought so,” Spencer said before
pushing the door closed in Steve’s face.
Spencer returned to the television which
was playing an infomercial that boasted a quality
product that was anything but. Disappointed,
Spencer surfed from one channel to the next until
he reached the channel 5 news. They were doing
another report about the strange occurrences in
Times Square, which Spencer had disregarded as
a dream. Spencer was hoping to watch something
other than the news, because all they reported
was crap. They didn’t even have to look for it to
find it, bad news was the norm.
“For those just joining us, I’m Karen
Vasquez reporting on the current events
unfolding in Times Square. The military just
brought in what they have described as a probe.
They plan to send this probe into the vortex in the
hopes of understanding what this anomaly is and
how it was formed and just what it may be here
to do.”
The camera panned around to show
several soldiers maneuvering the probe, a sixwheeled robot, into position with its camera
pointed at the black gateway.
“The military has allowed us to receive
the probe’s telemetry feed,” the anchorwoman
continued, “which is viewable here with our
reporter on the scene, Kevin?”