Demon Gate: Beyond the 9th Circle: The Rapture Was Just The Beginning. (2 page)

She pointed at the screen to her right,
which displayed a male reporter in Times Square.
Karen stared at the screen, unable to speak.
Shock and concern filled her eyes.
How am I
supposed to describe this?
“Thank you, Karen,” the male
correspondent intoned with a smile. “It’s difficult
to describe, so we’ll just show you what’s
happening.”
The scene switched to the drone’s
camera, which swung and locked onto the portal
in the middle of Times Square. It started to draw
nearer, blurring and bobbing as the robot lurched
forward and quickly covered the half-mile
distance to the portal hovering over 46
^th
Street.
There the probe took a brief pause, allowing the
viewers to get a sense of awe from the soulsucking black abyss, while it sent footage of the
outside parameters of the anomaly to its military
handlers. Then the drone moved on, passing into
the swirling black vortex. The signal was briefly
weakened, causing a brief moment of static on
the news view screen.
As the image returned, the camera panned
around what looked like a massive underground
grotto. The walls on each side vanished from
sight in the gloom. A large chasm opened up on
either side of a short land bridge between the
other side of the portal and an atoll, which
occupied the far side of the grotto. A faint light
emanated from somewhere in the grotto like an
eerie grey-glowing cavern. An occasional plume
of fire erupted up from deep down inside the
chasm. On the far side of the massive chamber
were millions of dark creatures. Some were
winged, some horned and every one of them had
glowing red eyes. Suddenly, one appeared mere
inches from the camera’s lens holding a jagged
sword, which emitted darkness like smoke from a
fire. To Spencer the creature looked…demonic.
How will anybody know for sure what they are?
Spencer thought. The creature plunged its sword
into the lens, knocking the video feed out. With
pulse racing, Spencer frantically dialed Eric.
A sound like distorted, high pitched sonar
burst forth from the television, wailing into the
room, growing exponentially louder. Spencer’s
heart started pounding harder and harder as the
sound grew louder and louder. It was coming
from the portal. The on-the-ground reporter was
picking up the sound as he backed further away
from the seething black arch. But something even
stranger was happening; Spencer also heard it
though the through the phone as well as the
television.
What the hell is this?
Spencer’s mind
raced as he tapped his fingers, willing his friend
talk to him.
“Yeah?!” Eric finally yelled into the
phone. The din at Times Square had reached
deafening levels.
“Eric, where are you?”
Eric didn’t respond.
“You’re at Times Square, aren’t you?”
Silence reigned. “Get out of there, Eric. Get out
of there now! RUN!”
The din finally subsided, leaving Times
Square quiet as a tomb.
“What is that?” Eric shouted, but he was
no longer talking to Spencer. Turning to stare at
the television, Spencer saw what Eric was talking
about. The probe was emerging from the portal
as if it had been tossed back, barely missing
several marines as it collided with the ground.
Irreparable damage to the probe was evident.
Finally a light exploded from the portal to briefly
fill the screen, and then the television
transmission died at the source.
“Eric?” Spencer called, but there was no
response; his phone had dropped the call.
“Kevin, are you there?” Karen asked
emphatically, worry obvious in her voice at the
loss of contact with her field correspondent. The
small square on screen that had been showing
Kevin was all snow and static. Seconds later the
station signal died and static filled the whole
screen.
Dread blended with turbulence and
uncertainty. Was his dream more than simplistic
bleed-over of his worry the night before? Could it
have been an actual warning from something that
wanted to help him? He felt it was too dangerous
to stay, even if he was just being paranoid. He
had to get out of Newark. He had to get as far
away from New York as possible.
As Spencer began to pack, he turned on
the radio in hopes that some stations were still
transmitting. He was hoping for some news so he
could figure out which way he should go. He was
desperately hoping it was just an equipment
failure. The radio did an auto scan through the
dial twice. Spencer felt a knot in his stomach.
Then it finally picked up a signal from a news
station near Battery Park.
The deejay’s usually mellow voice
trembled as he spoke.
“We just got a report of something
happening all over New York City. Strange
‘goings on’ and lot of people have been reported
dead!” Spencer felt a cold sweat break out on his
arms and forehead. He had to hurry - this was no
dream, no joke. Something beyond his
imagination was happening and there was no
time to waste.
“That’s affirmative. After an incident
involving what the military is calling a neutron
device malfunction, there are regrettably no
survivors around the probe.”
Dismay filled Spencer. “Damn you, Eric.
Why didn’t you just listen to me?”
After a pause another voice filled the
airways. “This is Major General George
Lancaster. The President is issuing a state of
emergency and calling for a complete evacuation
of Manhattan, south New York and the
surrounding Burroughs. In addition, starting
tomorrow morning the states of New Jersey,
Maryland, Connecticut, and Pennsylvania will be
orderly evacuated according to hurricane
guidelines because similar phenomena have been
reported in those states. Details are being routed
to local authorities for the timeline.” The
general’s voice boomed with great authority,
“This is not a drill. You are to evacuate New
York City immediately!”
Spencer turned off the radio as the deejay
parroted the general’s evacuation orders. Spencer
hurriedly packed all of the food and water he
could load into his car. After piling in some other
various provisions, he returned to his room for a
few personal items, knowing that it was only a
matter of time before whatever killed Eric and
everybody else at Times Square would emerge to
strike at the rest of the world.
Or has it already begun
? He wondered.
Spencer figured he would need something to help
him remain sane while he was on the run from
death, something to calm him. Although he had
never been very religious, his Holy Bible seemed
like the best choice. He also took up his Glock
and the three loaded clips that he kept in the top
drawer of his dresser. He looked around in
disbelief before leaving his room for the last
time.
Thrusting his key into the car ignition,
Spencer turned the radio on to track any new
disturbances and shifted into drive. Chaos
flooded the streets in the form of tens of
thousands of people who were clinging to
anything with wheels trying to get out of town.
All these people are blindly panicking.
Which way should I go?
Spencer hit the gas and peeled out. He felt
he had to check on Eunice, he knew she had a
pacemaker and could be having trouble if she
realized her grandson had just been obliterated.
She was the closest thing to family he had now,
but that could change. Anything could happen
with all the insanity that surrounded him.
As he turned into Eunice’s gravel
driveway, Spencer saw the security screen was
open, banging against the outside wall as the
wind gusted. Spencer stopped and pulled himself
out of his car. Racing to the door Spencer
reached out and grabbed the door knob. It opened
with a single twist.
“MRS. FREDRICKS!”
Spencer dashed inside and into the next
room looking for the old woman. She was
nowhere to be seen. Passing the living room he
heard faint white noise.
The television in the front room was on;
static covered the screen, a televised white out. A
lavender floral pattern dress and a lilac colored
sweater were tossed on the back of the couch and
a steaming cup of coffee sat on the end table.
Spencer stood in the living room entry in
shock. There was nothing more he could do.
Eunice had been taken. No sign of struggle, no
sign of anything wrong. Just like the others that
disappeared a few days ago.
Rapture?
Spencer
headed for the front door. Everybody he knew
was dead or mysteriously vanished. He hoped to
his core those that vanished were looking down
on him from heaven.
Sitting in the driver’s seat of his GTO he
started the engine and peeled out. There was no
way of knowing how long the chaos would last,
or how far it had spread. He had to leave Newark
behind. Leaving alone was no longer a choice; it
was his only option. Alone again.
The evacuation order from the radio
played back in Spencer’s head as a plan formed,
a plan on the best way to flee the city. He would
stick to the back roads as long as he could, then
find his way to Miami, and maybe catch a boat to
Mexico or Cuba. From there it was all up in the
air, he would figure it out later.
Spencer nervously checked his Glock and
racked a round into the chamber. If anybody was
going to try to take his car, they would be facing
a nine millimeter round. He backed out of the
driveway and headed south, clearing the city
limits after three slow miles of traffic going all
ways. The radio had been emitting loud
background noise over a looping emergency
message similar to the one broadcast from
television; it abruptly fell silent. Spencer could
only guess what just happened. For all he knew a
quarter of a million people had just been killed.
As he crossed the border into Maryland, the radio
squawked to life causing him to jump out of his
skin.
“…approach Washington, I repeat, do
not
approach Washington, D.C. A phenomenon
similar to the one reported in New York has been
spotted there, and the city is now being
evacuated.” The transmission went silent, but
repeated several minutes later.
Spencer’s plan to flee the country was in
shambles and now he needed a new one. Fast.
Perhaps he would go around D.C. and continue to
Miami. Time was short, so he weighed the risk of
getting to Miami too slowly over not getting
there at all. Finally, he decided it was something
he had to risk.
I-83 was oddly vacant and free of
congestion. It took him close to Baltimore, where
he connected up with I-695 to circumvent the
major city traffic. Then he worked his way
through the spider web of highways, leaving D.C.
a distant speck in his rearview mirror as he
traveled down I-95.
Spencer contemplated stopping for a nap
and coffee if it was available. So he pulled off of
I-95 into a small town called Falmouth, where he
found a gas station where three cars were parked.
He heard the engines running and could see
exhaust coming from the tailpipes. No one was in
them or near them; no one was pumping gas. One
had its door wide open. There were no lights on
anywhere. Each vehicle was obviously
abandoned.
Spencer headed into the gas station to see
if he could snag some coffee and maybe a sugary
snack. At least the sun was shining, and he could
clearly see the entire store. A bell sat on the
counter. He pressed the button to call an
attendant from the back room, but nobody came.
He rang the bell once more, but still nobody
came.
Terror shot through him when snorting
came from the back room. It was abrupt and
chilling and Spencer was torn between running
and investigating.
“Hello?” Spencer meekly asked.
The snort turned to a growl as a shadow
appeared on the floor just inside the threshold to
the back room. He looked back up and the shock
almost caused his legs to buckle as he saw a
creature that headed toward the door to the back
room. It looked sickly and other-worldly, much
like the creatures the probe discovered in the
vortex. Spencer’s heart began pumping
adrenaline through his body. He no longer
needed coffee; he needed to get the hell out of
there!
Spencer cleared the door as the creature
stood erect and stretched its wings. Spencer
reached his car at a dead run. He stopped
momentarily when he noticed that the passenger
side window on one of the cars was shattered.
Blood was spattered on the inside of the
windshield he quickly noted. Like a sick paintball
game.
Curiosity got the best of him. Spencer
cautiously he approached the car. He shot a quick
look over his shoulder; the creature was still in
the back part of the store, growling and snuffling
around. He moved up to the car. A woman was
sitting inside. Her chest had been torn open, her
mouth gaped open in terror and the inside of the
car looked like it had been painted with blood.
Spencer backed away. He turned toward his car,
and as he did, he caught a glimpse of a terrifying
creature in the side mirror of the car nearest him
that looked like a demonic frog with long horns.
Spencer bolted and frantically jumped
leapt into his car whipping the door shut so fast
he almost caught his foot. Just as the door
clunked shut, the winged demon burst through
the window of the gas station. Spencer jammed
the key into the ignition, started the car, slammed
his foot down on the gas pedal, and took to the
street as the demon took flight, shrieking as it
flew, hell bent on ending Spencer’s life.
As Spencer headed back for the interstate,
he dialed 911, but the only response was a
recorded message indicating the circuits were
jammed. He tried again. The same message
replayed. After a third time, Spencer threw his
phone into the passenger seat; he wasn’t
surprised the 911 system was down, he had just
hoped civilization was still functioning.
What’s going on
? He thought a panic.
The vehicle jolted as the airborne demon
slammed into the side of the car. Spencer drew
his Glock and fired several times at the demon’s
head. The demon jerked in mid-flight, took
another few flaps of the skin-covered wings and
hit the ground rolling. Struggling to rise, it
roared. The car didn’t slow down as it left the
creature writhing on the ground in the rearview
mirror.