Demon Gate: Beyond the 9th Circle: The Rapture Was Just The Beginning. by Joel Heath Page A

Remind me to buy you a
drink later.”
“Buy? Humanity has fallen, money has
no value. We’ll just get one when we get to
Vegas.” Spencer corrected.
“Let’s hope we get out of this in one
piece,” Vince said with a tinge of
disappointment. “You do realize this won’t kill
them until we kill the queen?”
“ This won’t.” Spencer said succinctly
then pointed to a large propane tank next to the
plaza. The tank was glistening white and was
nearly twenty feet long and six feet high.
Vince caught sight of the huge propane
tank and then glanced at Spencer.
“You’re insane.” Vince commented.
“The end of the world does have that
effect.” Spencer replied. “Grab another nozzle
and start pumping more gas.”
It took an hour, but Spencer and Vince
drowned the station in gas before getting in the
car. The sun was minutes away from vanishing
behind the horizon.
“What now?” Vince asked.
“We wait. But when I tell you, light and
throw this,” Spencer said handing Vince a flare,
but in the diminished light it looked more like a
stick of TNT.
“What if I miss?” Vince asked.
Spencer looked around before he replied.
“I’d rather you didn’t, you might spoil my
surprise,” Spencer said.
They didn’t have to wait long. The
thundering noise of the oncoming demons grew
louder, like a million roaring engines. And then
they appeared on the horizon, moving in from the
northeast like a rogue wave, cold and seemingly
unstoppable. Spencer and Vince were sitting in
their secluded car on the west end of the lot; they
were waiting for all hell to break loose.
Finally the first demon set foot into the
pond of gasoline. Spencer put his hand on
Vince’s arm and shook his head. Vince
squirmed, ready to toss the slow burning flare but
Spencer kept him in check until the advance
guard of the horde had reached the building.
They saw the men and the car now and just as
they leapt forward to charge…
“NOW!” Spencer shouted.
Vince lit the flare and tossed it out the window,
and it landed three feet from the gas.
“Damn, I missed.” Vince mourned.
“Don’t worry,” Spencer said.
“Who’s worried?” Vince asked.
“We still have a backup plan,” Spencer
reminded as he raised a remote detonator he had
retrieved from the back of Louis’ truck two days
earlier. Spencer raised the protective cover and
flipped the switch.
Instantly the entire station erupted into a
minefield of fire and smoldering shrapnel as the
propane tank exploded, and then it was all over.
Spencer tossed the detonator into the back seat,
started the car, and sped away.
“How much longer do you…” Vince was
silenced by the deafening noise of the gas main
under the truck stop exploding.
“Do you think any of them survived?”
Vince asked while the fire raged behind them at
an ever-increasing distance.
“I hope the blast waited until it got the
queen, but I would rather not go back and find
out,” Spencer replied as he got onto I-40 and
sped away.
“So, we’re heading to Vegas?” Vince
asked.
“That’s right,” Spencer replied.
Vince stayed quiet.
“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked.
Vince took a deep breath before going on.
“Are you sure Las Vegas is really the best
option?” Vince asked meekly.
“For the moment, yes.”
I-40 went west for another few miles
before turning south just outside Kingman
Arizona where Highway 93 picked up and
headed to the northwest towards the Colorado
River where highway 93 crossed over on a bridge
that was a marvel of modern engineering.
A gaping precipice opened up and to
Spencer’s horror he realized something was
missing. It was the bridge over the Colorado
River. Spencer slammed on the breaks and
skidded to a stop before his car plunged hundreds
of feet into the gorge below. Spencer got out and
approached the edge of the demolished
suspension bridge.
“You have got to be kidding me,”
Spencer shouted, “The bridge must have
collapsed. Or it was knocked down.” Spencer
considered.
Vince