The Gates: An Apocalyptic Novel (19 page)

Refuelled, resupplied, and re-manned,
the Hatchet raised anchor and set off from the southeast coast. Guy planned to
follow the shipping lanes across the Atlantic as much as possible and avoid the
winds by having a senior ensign check the ship’s meteorological instrumentation
every thirty minutes, but the weather so far was fair. The men were focused. Many
had received word of their families and friends being lost in the attacks, but
they were turning their anguish into motivation and concentrating on getting to
England. Others were just glad to be aboard where it was safe.

“I’ve relayed a message to Command,” Frank told him.
“Said we were no longer operational. You understand that if things ever get back
to normal we’ll all end up in prison for dereliction of duty, and theft of a Coast
Guard Vessel?”

Guy nodded. “If things go back to normal I will happily
accept full punishment. Until then, I’m going to get my kids.”

Frank took his hand and clasped it in his own, an
intimate gesture, but appreciated. “I’m sure they’re safe. The British Army is
no pushover.”

“Nor is the United States Navy, but look what
happened at Norfolk.”

“We’ll get them, Captain. I promise you.”

“I think the time for calling me ‘Captain’ has
passed.”

“On the contrary. Now more than ever you need to
lead these sailors. The civilians especially will need direction. Give it a day
or two, and we will see bouts of seasickness, panic, claustrophobia, and a lot
of changed minds. You will have to keep a firm hand to maintain order.”

“Firm but fair,” Guy corrected.

“The former is more important.”

“Captain!”

Guy turned around to see Lieutenant Tosco hurrying
up the ladder.

“What is it Lieutenant?”

“Switch to Naval Frequency 1.”

Guy frowned, but gave Frank a nod to do as
requested. The ship’s main radio squawked to life with the panicked tones of a
stranger. “
USS
Augusta requesting immediate rescue. We are under
attack. Our coordinates are…”

Guy raised an eyebrow. “Those coordinates are sixteen
miles off the coast.”

“
We are under attack. All vessels in the
vicinity, please respond with immediate aid.”

“We can reach them within the hour,” said Tosco firmly.
“We have to help.”

Guy shook his head. “We have our mission, Lieutenant.
You agreed to stay on board and cross the Atlantic.”

“I agreed to help you find your kids, yes, but I
never said I would turn my back on Americans in need. You want to maintain my
support, direct the ship towards the USS Augusta.”

Frank stepped in front of Guy and faced Tosco down.
“How dare you give the Captain orders!”

“No, he’s right, Frank. I can’t ask the men to save
my children if I’m not willing to save the men aboard the Augusta. Lieutenant
Tosco, prepare the crew for a rescue operation and battle conditions.” He turned
and got on the radio. “USS Augusta, this is the USCG Hatchet. Stand by. We’ll
be with you within the hour.” He turned back to Tosco. “You have your orders, Lieutenant.
Go.”

Tosco nodded, and saluted as respectfully as Guy had
ever seen him. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

Once Tosco had left, Frank turned to Guy with
concern on his face. “I thought you agreed you would be firm. You just let Tosco
dictate our course.”

“I said I’d be firm but fair. Tosco was correct in
his thinking. Do you disagree?”

“No. It’s the right call. I just wish it hadn’t
come from Tosco. You give that guy’s ego a penny and he’ll take a pound.”

“He’s given me his support, Frank. I owe it to the
man to trust him.”

Frank nodded as if he understood, but then he
said, “I would rather trust a man because he earned it, than because I owe it
to him.”

“Have I earned your trust, Frank?”

“Ten times over.”

“Then you’ll just have to hope I know what I’m
doing. I can handle Tosco.”

Frank rubbed at his chin, a day’s stubble there
for the first time since Guy had met him decades ago. “I worry more about whether
Tosco can handle
himself
.”

“Your concerns are noted, Chief Petty. Now,
full-steam ahead.”

***

When they reached the USS Augusta,
they were all glad to see that it was still afloat. That didn’t mean it was in
good shape though. A battle raged on its decks.

“They’re coming up right out of the water,” said
Frank as he stared out of the pilothouse window. Sopping wet creatures with
bloated stomachs and sagging skin were launching themselves out of the water,
like dolphins, and landing on the deck of the Augusta. There, they were
attacking the sailors as they did their best to stay together.

Guy turned to Tosco. “You know the drill, Lieutenant.
Open up the MGs.”

Tosco nodded and went to give the orders. A minute
later, the rapid fire sprayed across the water and hit several creatures before
they had a chance to leap up out of the ocean. The Navy frigate Augusta had far
more firepower than the Hatchet, but it looked like its captain had never
gotten the chance to use it.

Guy got on the ship’s radio and ordered the crew to
take to the rails and open fire from their assault rifles. The men—including
some of the civilians—lined up along the ship’s boundaries and started picking
their shots. Guy flinched when he saw some rounds go awry and hit the Augusta’s
crew, but enough of the bloated, slippery demons went down to make them
acceptable casualties. The remaining crew of the Augusta saw the Hatchet now
and raised their hands excitedly. Fortunately, they were not distracted too
long and could take advantage of the opening they’d been given. They steeled
themselves against the enemy and fought for the upper hand. The Hatchet continued
to lend support from its two machine guns.

The slippery demons continued leaping up out of
the ocean.

Frank clenched his fists, watching the scene
without blinking. “Where are these things coming from?”

Guy watched a naval officer fall overboard as a
demon swatted him over the gunwale. Seconds after hitting the water, the man was
dragged down screaming beneath the surface. Not even the oceans were safe.

There was screaming from the deck below, making
Guy and Frank glance at each other in horror. Tosco came on the radio. “The
enemy are on board. We’re losing men.”

Guy turned to the ladder, but Frank stopped him.
“We need you here, Captain. I’ll go.”

“We’ll both go. We will need every man we have.”

Frank relented, and the two of them raced down the
ladder together and sprinted towards the launch deck. What they saw was
terrifying. The slimy creatures were horrifying, and a stink of rotting flesh
and the sea came off them in waves. Tosco had the crew organised in a line in
front of the Jayhawk helicopter, cutting down the enemy with their rifles. Many
of the civilians had scattered in panic and had found themselves cut off from
safety. Guy watched as Simon—the teenage
Avengers
fan—backed up into the
clutches of a demon stalking him. It grabbed his head and wrenched it right off
his neck before he even knew what was happening, leaving behind a spurting
stump and a tap-dancing body that flopped onto the deck like a fish.

Frank and Guy both grabbed rifles from the
stockpile and loaded them up with magazines. It’d been years since Guy had fired
a rifle, and the first time he’d ever needed to shoot to kill. The U.S. Coast
Guard were not killers, their weaponry more often a deterrent. Today, they
would all become soldiers. Guy picked his shots and nailed a demon right in the
back of the head. He aimed again and took down another demon snacking on a
civilian’s torn-out intestines.

Frank was like a machine, firing shot after shot without
seemingly even having to aim. Tosco stood behind the nearby firing line,
pointing out targets to the men and shouting motivations. The young lieutenant
was in his element, face stained with blood from a slash wound on his neck, and
a look of total control about him. He was unflappable.

Guy glanced across at the Augusta. The Navy
frigate was under renewed attack now after losing the support of the Hatchet’s
MGs. Its decks were once again filling up with waterlogged monsters.

“We need to get to those MGs,” Guy shouted to
Frank.

“I’ll take starboard, you take port.”

They split up, running to opposite sides of the
ship. Guy made it over to his MG first, grabbed the handles, and pulled the
trigger. The heavy weight of it bucked in his grip, but he kept it steady and drew
the bullet stream across the water and took out a dozen demons. The alleviation
in the enemy reinforcements allowed the crew of the Augusta to once again
recover and start clearing their decks anew. That gave Guy time enough to spin
the MG around and face onto the Hatchet’s own launch deck. He opened up and cut
a swath through the demons attacking the civilian refugees. Tosco kept the rest
of the crew organised enough to allow the civilians to creep back into safety
where Skip handed them weapons and ammunitions. Everyone needed to be armed and
firing. No more being a civilian.

Guy saw that they were winning. Fewer and fewer
demons emerged from the water and Frank kept the opposite MG trained to make
sure that those that did lost their heads. Many of the demons floated dead on
the waves. The men aboard the Augusta were cheering as they swept the last
remaining invaders from their deck.

The MG in Guy’s hand clunked as it fired its last
round—its belt-fed magazine expired. He let go of it cautiously, expecting
demons to run straight for him now that they had the chance, but none did. So
he did his best to march confidently on wobbling legs towards Tosco who was
mopping up the last of the enemy. By the time Guy reached his Lieutenant, the
crew was hailing him as a hero. Tosco lapped it up, grinning ear to ear, even
as he continued to bleed from the jagged wound on his neck. He looked like the lead
in an action movie.

“Are you okay, Lieutenant?” Guy asked his second
in command.

Tosco wiped the blood from his neck and looked at
it. “Just a flesh wound, Captain. One of them got me when they first came up
out the water. Luckily, I’d already taken the safety off my rifle.”

Frank left the other MG and came over. “You did
well,” he told Tosco, although it sounded more than a little begrudging.

“Thank you, Chief Petty, but I can’t take any of
the credit. The men were warriors, each and every one of them. Let the enemy
come, I say. They’ll never get the better of the Hatchet.”

The men cheered, and were interrupted only by the squawking
of a radio. Ensign Bentley brought the unit over to Guy who immediately
answered the call. “Captain Granger of the USCG Hatchet. How are you doing over
there, USS Augusta? Over.”

“Thank the Lord for you, Captain Granger. Thank
the Lord. You saved our bacon. Once those things were on board we couldn’t stop
them coming. It was you cutting them to ribbons on the water that turned the
tide. Your men are heroes. Over.”

“That they are, Captain. Over.”

“Not the captain,” came the reply from the Augusta.
“Commander Johnson died in the attack, a stray bullet from one of your men, I
believe. I’m Lieutenant Hernandez. Over.”

“I’m sorry about your commander,” said Guy. “My
crew did the best they could. Over.”

“I understand. Our decks were swamped with
monsters. We would’ve lost far more men if you hadn’t been here to help. Over.”

“Do you know where those creatures came from, Lieutenant
Hernandez? Over.”

“Affirmative. Our radars picked up an anomaly on
the seabed in this area. The things must have swum right up out of the depths. They
were so bloated and malformed that they must have been sunk right down low.
Over.”

Guy took a moment to reply. “Then it appears these
hell gates are beneath the oceans and on land. We should all keep an eye on the
radar and steer a clear course. Over.”

“Copy that, Captain. We fled Norfolk hoping to
regroup, but ran right into another battle. Over.”

“You were at Norfolk? So were we. Did you see how
things ended there? Over”

“There’s nothing left. The USS New Hampshire went
under and took a thousand men with her, but several vessels got away. We count
our blessings. Over.”

Guy slumped back against the port side railing. “At
least some of us got out alive. We’re not beaten yet. Over.”

“Copy that, Captain. Gives us a chance to regroup
and head back to coast. Now that you saved us, we’ll be able to fight another
day. Naval Command is operating out of Florida now, and all ships are to make
their way to Jacksonville. It’ll be a pleasure to have the Hatchet along for
the ride. Over.”

“Negative. The Hatchet is crossing the Atlantic.
Over.”

“Why? Over.”

“I have a personal matter to attend to. Over.”

“We have orders to assemble at Jacksonville. Disobey
and you’ll be considered a deserter. Over.”

“Call it what you want. I’m going to the U.K. to
get my kids. Over.”

“I can’t allow you to do that, Captain Granger.
The Hatchet is United States property, and your men have a duty to protect
their country. You need to return to coast, or relinquish command to someone
who will. Over.”

Guy looked around at his crew, each of them
panting and ferocious, like blooded wolves. Tosco had his arms folded, but Guy
couldn’t tell if he was for or against what his counterpart on the Augusta was
suggesting. His opinion would be key to persuading the rest of the crew one way
or another.

“With all due respect, Lieutenant Hernandez, I
don’t take orders from you. Over.”

“The U.S. Coast Guard has been ordered to
relinquish command to the Navy. I am the senior naval officer in this region,
and I am taking authority of your vessel. I will have one of my junior officers
take command of your crew. Prepare to be boarded. Over and out.”