Dawn of the Void - Chapter 121: Ready to Party

Chapter 121: Ready to Party

He found Crimson Hydra gathered around Kimmie and Kerim. They lay in twin beds in one of the penthouse bedrooms. Late morning sluiced into the chamber. Folks had pulled up chairs, and Denzel sat beside Kerim, holding his hand, his expression profoundly lost.

“Nothing?” asked James, stepping into the doorway.

“Vital signs are fine,” said Jason quietly. “There’s nothing to heal. They’re just not waking up.”

James moved over to sit beside Kimmie, whose body dipped slightly as the mattress sank under his weight. She looked so terribly young, but also at peace. Her skin was healthy, her color good, her eyes still behind their lids. Curly white-blonde hair framing her pixie-like features.

She could have been asleep.

But James knew she was far out there. Drifting between stars going nova, in the depths of space, out beyond the realms of spirituality. He pursed his lips, his heart heavy, then lowered his chin and closed his eyes.

“What if they never come back?” asked Serenity quietly. “We all know how tempting it was to stay out there.”

“They need to come back,” said Denzel, tone quiet but fervent. “They know we need them. They won’t leave us like this.”

“We can only hope,” said Olaf. “Their soul journeys. Maybe one day they come home. If not, then we know they journey deep and far.”

“They need to come back,” said Denzel again. “We’re about to face the Pits. Humanity is on the line. They can’t stay out there.” His voice was thickening with emotion. “They can’t leave us alone.”

Serenity moved over and placed a hand on Denzel’s shoulder.

James sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. We can give them ten more minutes, then we gotta go.”

“Half an hour till the Pits open,” agreed Olaf soberly. “Big fucking deal.”

Serenity snorted. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“What do you think’s going to happen?” asked Miriam quietly.

“Nothing good,” said Yadriel, who sat in the corner in an armchair, slouched down low, shoes on the corner of Kimmie’s bed. “Going out on a limb here, but I’m willing to be it’ll be pretty bad, you know?”

“Thanks,” said Jason, smile wry. “Knew we could count on you for that key insight.”

“Yo man, I’m just telling it like it is.” Yadriel tossed a tennis ball from one hand to the other. “The Pits. Pits of Hell. How much you wanna bet demons just start pouring out and never stop? This time tomorrow all of Earth will be like one huge motherfuckin’ ant nest. Like those army ants from the Amazon. Claws and -”

“Yadriel?” Serenity’s tone was dangerously polite.

“Yeah, all right.”

James studied Kimmie. Took hold of her hand. “Hey. Kimmie. Can you hear me?”

The rest of the room fell silent.

“This is James. If you’re in there, somewhere, we need you. We need you back with us. We lost a lot of people.” A knot formed in his throat and it became difficult to speak. “A lot of people are dead. The rest, those that remain, they’re hurting. We could use your help. Your words. You’re good for us.” He paused, chest tight. Her expression remained serene, distant, innocent. “Come back to us, Kimmie. Please?”

James closed his eyes and focused on the woman who lay before him. Reached out with his new spiritual senses, tried to feel something, anything, within the body before him. Tried to harness his Aeviternum, to find something to pour his power into, a means to jumpstart her back into wakefulness.

Nothing.

After a long, drawn out minute he sighed and replaced her hand by her side. “Well.” He stood. “Looks like we’ll have to be a little more patient.”

“No,” said Denzel. “He said we’d face this together. He said…”

Nobody spoke.

Denzel lowered his head and fought against his sobs.

“Let’s give him a moment,” said Serenity, squeezing Denzel’s shoulder and moving to the door. “Come on, everybody.”

They filed out of the room, expression grim, and into the broad living room. Drawn by morbid curiosity, James moved to the huge windows that looked out over downtown Brooklyn. The closest symbol hovered in view, twenty or so blocks to the north east. Aflame as always with purple tongues of fire, it spun slowly. Choppers circled it, and James knew the ground around the Pit’s perimeter had to be swarming with what remained of New York’s forces.

They stood in silence for five minutes, nobody speaking, until Denzel emerged, his eyes raw, his expression fragile but dignified.

“All right folks.” James turned away from the windows. “Time to get to work.”

* * *

Global Pit Opening Initiated

7 Minutes Remain till Complete

Everybody was in location. With so many Pits in NYC alone, the executive decision had been made to concentrate ground forces on those within Brooklyn and prepare artillery and bombers to destroy the others.

Bulwarks had been erected around the pit’s edge. Tanks and Bradley’s filled the streets that dead ended at the huge hole, and every rooftop bristled with operators and the remaining military.

Overhead Apache’s, Blackhawks, drones with Hellfire missiles, and Killer Eggs ran intricate patterns. Howitzers were placed in a great circle a few blocks back, while three M270’s were spared for this Pit in particular, the vehicles looking like snub-nosed trucks with twelve M26 missiles ready to go.

Everything was being run with a skeleton crew. The air was thick with the growing ripeness of the dead, the chalky scent of dust and broken concrete, the damp, mineral humidity of the low clouds that promised rain.

James stood upon the berm that rose around the edge of the Pit itself, Crimson Hydra at his back, staring down into the vast hole. It was five blocks wide and easily thirty stories deep now, exposing strata of the city all the way around. Pipes, a shorn open subway tunnel, basement levels, archaeological layers of ancient New York down to the bedrock and down.

Down, down to the chaotic bottom, where the rubble and rebar and broken elements of the collapsed buildings had mixed with crushed cars, chunks of asphalt, bent street lights, and random pieces of civilization. A bottom that was still dropping away in jerks and spasms.

James’s radio buzzed and chirped as countless channels were used by military commands. He ignored it. The sight below was mesmerizing. The Pit couldn’t just keep dropping through the Earth’s mantle until it hit the molten core. It had to open to something. Somewhere.

Hell?

Why not?

If there was a distinct dimension in which Dikastís lived, a realm of virtue and justice, why couldn’t the demons have their own home? The Monitors and all the rest had to have come from somewhere.

He idly wondered what the atheists were being told was happening. A wormhole? A space/time anomaly? It had to be hard to reconcile a staunch lack of belief in the supernatural with actual demons.

“Five minutes!” blared a warning from loudspeakers. Even now there was formidable amounts of activity going on. The massacre that had taken place over the past twenty-four hours had thrown every system into a scramble, with people being promoted, re-assigned, units being collapsed into each other, new officers coming up to speed, everyone trying to adapt to the huge losses that had plagued every branch of the military, every group, every organization.

James inhaled deeply. His divine pool was full. A Wing hovered just behind him, tethered via Jelly, and each member of his crew had the same. His mind was blank. Everything, everything they had done, strived to accomplish, their every victory, loss, idea, attempt, was culminating now, in this moment, in this last act of defiance.

Would it all have been enough? Their sacrifices? Their losses? James thought of Sarah. Bjørn. Becca. Joanna. Kimmie. Kerim. Thought of the countless Operators he’d seen die. The civilians. The endless crowds massacred by the Nemeses. The visions of cities overrun, of entire populations wiped out.

Blood. Death. The end of their species.

And why?

Nobody knew.

Why had the demons come? What was their goal? Their agenda? Why this mass suffering, this System that teased and whittled them down, that offered hope even as it took them out at the knees?

No answers.

Just rage and the unending will to fight on till the bitter end.

The ground shuddered. A ripple of excitement passed through the massed crowd. The disturbance hadn’t come from the Pit. Voices arose in wonder.

James tore his gaze away from the bottom of the Pit and turned, looking back along the avenue.

A miracle had stepped into view.

Six stories tall, broad enough to fill the whole avenue, the Castrum Mortis approached. Its enameled blue and gold-edged plate armor gleamed in the overcast lighting, its armaments pulsing with divine power, its every step causing the ground to shudder.

“Jesus Christ,” someone said. “That thing on our side?”

“Fuck yeah, Jessica,” said Serenity. “I always liked her.”

Jessica accompanied the Castrum, standing atop her Omni-disc, riding above the Castrum’s shoulder as if she were its Animus, several screens open before her, fingers dancing over controls. Was she operating the damn thing? No. Running diagnostics.

The Castrum approached. Hummers and Bradley’s reversed out of its way. It was a wall of holy power, its knight’s helm embedded in the center of its chest giving the impression that its shoulders were so massively powerful that they hunched over it. Canons and guns gleamed. The air took on an ozone tang.

It didn’t just march through their forces like a kid through sandcastles, but rather placed its huge feet with care, stepping over barricades and bulwarks until at last it stopped beside James, looming massively above him and Crimson Hydra, right on the rim of the vast Pit.

Its head moved, looking down, and its guns and canons, its huge arm-mounted weapons all swiveled to aim down into the Pit.

“Castrum Mortis online,” it boomed, its voice causing what glass remained in windows to rattle and for James to feel its basso profundo voice deep in his chest.

“Fuck yeah!” shouted Star Boy from a Wing. He’d swept in behind the mech and pumped his fist into the air. “Thanks, Jessica.”

The Castrum’s presence was augmented by the thousands of Aeviternum points that had been sunk into its frame. It felt like standing next to a spiritual sun, its power radiating off it like heat from an open oven.

The sight of it, its presence, was so reassuring that James felt his nerves settle. Took a deep breath and looked up at Jessica, who grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

James laughed, returned the gesture, then turned to gaze into the Pit.

“One minute remaining,” boomed the speakers, the voice tinny and weak compared to the Castrum’s bellow. “Counting down.”

James took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

“Good luck, everyone,” said Jason. “See you on the other side of the Pit.”

“May Thor guide your Heavenly Strike,” said Olaf.

“Dude, you really believe in Thor?” asked Yadriel.

“I wish I did,” said Olaf quietly. “Then perhaps Odin and Freyja come down from Valhalla and Sessrúmnir with all their valkyrie to help us fight this battle.”

“Forty seconds,” boomed the speakers.

The bottom of the Pit shuddered and deep cracks appeared amongst the rubble.

Serenity crouched and slid her arms into the straps of the first 30 mm seven-barrel Gatling-style autocannon Star Boy had surprised her with only fifteen minutes ago. Specially requested from Fort Hamilton, they’d been pulled from two Warthogs that had sustained too much damage to keep flying. They’d dispensed with the hydraulic system, drum, feed system, and massive power source so that the gun itself remained, three meters long and weighing six hundred pounds each. The straps had been fashioned by a War Smith, and the gun itself was rated at almost 4,000 rounds per minute firing rounds as long as her forearm.

Jason crouched to help her with the second gun, strapping her arm in.

“Ten seconds,” boomed the speakers.

Serenity stood. The guns rose, slung under her forearms, her hands closed on a grip welded to the top of each. Each extended meter’s before her, obscenely massive and improbable.

“Fuck yeah,” she breathed, the sound almost erotic. She raised both guns, turned, aimed, turned back. “Now I’m ready to party.”

“Five. Four.”

The Castrum’s weapon systems hummed as they amped up.

“Give them hell!” shouted someone.

“Stupid, they’re from hell,” muttered Yadriel.

“Two. One. Go time.”

The ground shuddered violently and the floor of the Pit began to undulate as if the rubble and broken concrete had suddenly become liquid. Then, with a shattering roar, the entire floor gave way, falling as if into a deeper pit. A baleful wind rose up with a howl, arid and stinking of burned metal and seared rock. Crimson light blazed from the world revealed below.

James felt his body clench like a closed fist, his throat close, his eyes bulge.

Hell had opened up below.