The Tartarus Island Raid

I wasn’t expecting a normal workday when I boarded a Bell 407 at 4am in the morning, accompanied by a heavily armed tactical team. After all, my team and I were tasked with executing a high-risk warrant at an isolated location, deploying alongside local law enforcement to arrest the prime suspect for a half dozen brutal murders that had occurred during the past two years.

The suspect’s home was located upon the offshore island of Tartarus – a small fishing community of a few hundred residents whose only link with the mainland was via a twice daily ferry service across the straights.

The isolation of the site posed logistical problems for our operation. No-one could come in or out of the community without being noticed, and we wanted to give our target as little notice as possible of our intentions.

It was therefore decided to deploy a small assault team by helicopter which would co-ordinate a dawn raid upon the suspect’s home, hopefully catching him unawares. ‘Hopefully’ was the operative word here, because we knew our target was armed and unlikely to go quietly.

So, it would be far to say the atmosphere was tense as we boarded the chopper on that wet and humid summer’s morning. I was apprehensive for sure, but also excited and pumped up with adrenaline. After years with the agency carrying out dull background checks and low-level investigations, it seemed I’d finally reached the big-time with this opportunity to take down a notorious serial killer whose vile crimes had obtained nation-wide coverage.

Assuming I survived the raid and helped bring about a successful conviction, my career would be on a fast-track to success.

I thought about all this as I sat in the rear of the cramped helicopter, my nerves hardly helped as our pilot battled the escalating winds – a storm which had taken root as if from nowhere. Our aircraft shook under the turbulence and I felt queasy. But I was determined not to lose my breakfast or my nerve, as it would set a bad example for the men.

My team was a small one. Jackson was our pilot, and the four-man assault team was led by Rodriguez, accompanied by Doherty, Saad and Elliot. If the SWAT team were nervous they certainly didn’t show it, as Rodriguez and his men sat in silence, cradling their assault rifles on their laps whilst staring straight ahead with no emotion or fear evident in their hard eyes.

All were ready for battle – clad in black body armour and helmets and with their faces covered. These men were professionals trained for every conceivable scenario, but the situation we were unwittingly flying into had no tactical precedent. But of course, none of us knew what was in store as we set off on that morning, and I delivered my final briefing to the team before what I still hoped would be a smooth operation.

“Okay boys.” I began, trying to exert both calm and confidence, “You know the drill, but let’s go over it one last time. Officially, we’re deploying today in support of local law enforcement to help them execute a high-risk warrant. However, the Tartarus police department consists of one elderly sheriff a year off retirement and a part-time deputy.

Therefore, its safe to say we’ll be taking charge of this operation. Our target is one Joseph Kane – a long-haul truck driver who travels back and forth from the island for work. He has a lengthy record going back to his teens – larceny, assault and drugs possession…but never anything on this scale.

Nevertheless, we have good reason to believe Kane is the so-called ‘interstate killer’, and we can link him to six murders committed over the course of two years.”

I paused momentarily to let this sink in, making eye contact with each man one-by-one before continuing in a more serious tone.

“You’ve all seen the crime scene photos and read the autopsy reports, but its worth remembering the kind of monster we’re hunting.”

Stopping once more, I saw the vile images in my head as I listed off the names I’d come to know so well.

“Sarah Young – his first victim, that we know of. A prostitute who we believe went with the suspect voluntarily. Her body was found dumped beside a truck stop two days later, stabbed 36 times in the torso and throat. This was a frenzied attack for sure, the product of an unexperienced and nervous killer. But he soon refined his technique.

Alison Maas was his second victim. A similar MO to the first. She was also a sex worker, her corpse found at a service station with her throat slit. Next was Rebecca Sagan – barely eighteen years old at the time of her murder. She’d been abused as a child and got hooked on heroin in her early teens, turning tricks to fund her habit.

We linked the first three murders and assumed the perpetrator was targeting prostitutes exclusively, but then he changed up his routine…”

I swallowed deeply, remembering the sickening and gory scene I’d witnessed on that fateful morning when I was forced to survey a little piece of hell brought to earth.

“Jane Bukowski and Silvia Curry – two college students driving home for the holidays. They stopped at a cheap motel for the night, and the killer broke into their room while they slept. We believe the victims were tortured for hours before their deaths, and the scene inside that motel room was…horrific.

The next morning, the motel’s maid Isabelle Snachez came to clean the room and was ambushed and stabbed to death by the perpetrator, becoming his sixth victim. But the bad guy fucked up this time. He left his DNA at the murder scene and we were able to match it to Mr Kane, who already existed on our files from his previous offences.”

I paused again, more for dramatic effect than anything else.
“So, there you have it gentlemen. We have a bon-fide serial killer in our sights. The local sheriff informs us that Kane has firearms on his premises and is hostile to law enforcement officers. Therefore, we’ve got to assume he’ll violently resist arrest. Our stated objective is of course to take him alive, but I don’t want anyone taking any chances.”

“We’ve got this chief.” Rodriguez replied confidently, while the rest of the squad simply nodded in confirmation.

For a moment I feared I’d gone too far. Would the squad seek to deliberately shoot Kane down as the ultimate retribution for his heinous crimes? He was after all innocent until proven guilty and entitled to due process. But no, I reassured myself. Rodriguez and his men were professionals and would do things by the book. That said, if Kane did open fire he would be justifiably taken out, and nobody would shed any tears for him.

During my impromptu briefing I’d failed to notice the rapid deterioration in the weather as we flew out to sea. The prevailing winds were rocking our helicopter back and forth, and all I could see before us were black clouds and not so distant lightning strikes.

“Jesus.” I swore, leaning forward so I could speak with the pilot in the cockpit.

“Jackson, what the hell is this?” I asked, “I thought we had a clear forecast for this morning?”

“We did.” the pilot replied defensively, “This damn storm just came out of nowhere.”

He paused for a moment to struggle with the controls, as a sharp crack of thunder was clearly audible in the close vicinity.

“We might want to consider heading back chief.”

I felt a wave of panic come over me as I thought this carefully planned operation – my operation – could fall apart due to something as minor as the weather.

“Negative Jackson.” I responded firmly, “The sheriff and his deputy are waiting for us on the ground. We know where Kane is this morning. If we call off the raid, he could slip through our fingers and kill again. We must execute the arrest today.”

Jackson tutted and shook his head. Clearly he wasn’t happy, but the pilot followed his orders nonetheless.
“Okay chief, I’ll see what I can do.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, truly believing I’d made the right call in that moment. If only I knew the horrors which lay before us.

The storm only grew worse the closer we came to the island. It was the oddest thing, as the stormfront seemed to be entirely localised over Tartarus, with blue skies on either side but ominous dark clouds over the island. We should’ve turned back – of course we should. But I was arrogant and didn’t recognise the threat.

Before long, the chopper was being bombarded by the elements – a deluge of heavy rain and near hurricane-force winds. Jackson struggled to keep control of the aircraft but this became increasingly impossible. The pilot shouted to be heard over the thunder and heavy rainfall – announcing multiple equipment failures, with the navigation systems and the radio both going down. But this was the least of our worries as the frail aircraft was rocked from side-to-side by the mighty storm.

I realised then what a serious mistake I’d made and how I’d surely put all our lives in mortal danger. But it was too late to turn back now.

I looked into the eyes of my companions and saw my fear mirrored, as the hard exterior of the assault force members could no longer be maintained. Suddenly there was a flash of lightning brighter than the sun, closely followed by a mighty explosion as our chopper was struck.

Grown men screamed in terror as the aircraft spiralled out of control. Jackson shouted into the radio – ‘Mayday! Mayday! We’re going down!’ But no-one could hear him.

We span downwards through the clouds, the ground rapidly rising up to meet us. A crash was unavoidable now and all we could do was brace for impact. I closed my eyes and held on tight, suffering from the heavy crash as the chopper hit the ground hard. Shooting up from my seat, my head impacted with cold metal and I experienced a sharp pain inside my skull. Then I felt myself falling out of consciousness, as suddenly the whole world went dark.
I don’t know how long I was out for – minutes, hours…I do vividly recall the appalling nightmares I experienced whilst out of consciousness – helicopters crashing into balls of flame, motel rooms splattered with blood and gore, Kane standing over me with a butcher’s knife at the ready and a sadistic grin etched across his lips.

These grotesque visions were understandable given the circumstances. The other nightmares were harder to explain however – those of a burning lake of fire filled with tormented souls, and red-scaled demons with shark-like teeth going to battle with blue-eyed angels who shone like the sun.

When I finally did awake, the first thing I experienced was a dull throbbing pain in my head. I reached up and felt dried blood on my scalp. Opening my eyes was a struggle, but I managed to do so – only to be confronted by a scene of bloody chaos and carnage.

The severed head of Jackson was lying in a pool of blood by my feet. The pilot’s mouth was ajar in a silent scream and his eyes remained open, looking up at me in an almost accusatory glare, like he blamed me for the disaster that had just occurred.

I resisted the urge to retch from the foul stench of death, still in a state of shock as I surveyed what was left of the helicopter’s interior. Two of the SWAT team members were visible inside of the cockpit, although it was near impossible to tell which men they were, because their bodies had been torn to shreds.

Turning my head, I saw a third body thrown outside of the helicopter, his throat torn open by shrapnel and his blood spilled all over the damp grass. As for me, I had miraculously survived and didn’t appear to have any significant injuries other than a gash on my head.

Whether I pulled through by sheer luck or divine intervention I cannot say, but I was already experiencing acute survivor’s guilt as I shakingly stood up and exited the wrecked aircraft. I tried to take pulses but soon realised this was futile, as all three officers were clearly dead and our pilot had been decapitated in the crash.

Jackson, Doherty, Saad and Elliot were all gone, but where was Rodriguez? I struggled out of the cockpit, still dazed but slowly regaining my senses. Walking upon a rocky field, I surveyed the horizon to get my bearings. I’d made it to the island, but only just.

The sky above was still black, with only shards of sunlight breaking through. I could see as far as the cliff’s edge to my east but no further. The mainland was not visible and it seemed like the small isle of Tartarus had been consumed by the dark stormfront and cut off from the rest of the world.

Stumbling along and adjusting my eyesight, I spotted a black-clad figure in the distance about one hundred yards from where I stood. I felt apprehensive for a moment until I recognised the hulking armed man was none other than Sergeant Rodriguez.

The SWAT team leader was limping and seemed to be in a state of shock. Nevertheless, Rodriguez still held his rifle and maintained a stern look in his eyes as he struggled across the wet grass. I called out his name, perhaps shaking the man from his shock induced trance as he glanced over at me in surprise.

I felt relief that at least one other team member had survived the crash, and I began to formulate a plan to seek help. But before I could do anything, my ears were assaulted by a piercing, banshee-like wail from above. Looking up, I saw something impossible diving down from the dark clouds.

The beast descending had the shape of a humanoid but with bright red scales instead of skin and a vast wingspan which allowed it to soar through the air at tremendous speed. I stood still, awestruck and terrified as the beast continued its descent.

As it came closer, I could make out its soulless black eyes and vile maw filled with razor-sharp teeth. The beast’s target was Rodriguez and it fell upon him at a rapid speed – unleashing a hellish, bloodthirsty wail as it came. I shouted a warning to my companion but could only watch in stunned horror as he raised his rifle in an attempt to defend himself.
But the armed officer wasn’t able to fire even a shot before the monster tore into him, easily knocking the rifle from his hands before burying its sharp claws deep into his flesh.

Rodriguez screamed in agony but the worst was still to come, as the officer was physically pulled upwards by the sheer might of the beast, and the winged monstrosity took flight with its prey firmly secured. Poor Rodriguez was still alive, screaming for help which I could not give him.

I did reach down into my holster and withdrew my 9mm sidearm, but the monster was too far away and I might accidently hit my companion. But, in an instant, a second monster emerged – another red-scaled harpy near identical to the first. My jaw dropped as I watched the newcomer tear through the air and grab hold of Rodriguez’s legs.

Before long, the two vile harpies were fighting over possession of their prey, both clawing and ripping until their victim was literally torn in two, which at least finally ended his suffering.

I could only look on in disgust and horror as the harpies feasted on my late companion’s still warm flesh, spilling his blood and guts on the green grass as they hovered with wings flapping. I guess I’d stayed in the same spot for too long, because the monsters soon finished devouring their meal and turned their attentions towards me.

I saw the foul glint in their black eyes as my late companion’s blood still poured from their mouths, and I knew I was in big trouble. The two beasts took off in unison, screeching maniacally as they soared through the sky towards me.

Acting on instinct, I raised my pistol and opened fire. But, after several shots, I realised I stood no chance of taking out both harpies, and so I turned on my heels and ran. I’ll admit to being in a state of acute panic at this point, but I did have a plan of sorts.

I retreated back towards the downed helicopter, hoping to find sanctuary inside its burnt-out shell. But something had beaten me to it.

I heard clawing and rustling from inside the crashed aircraft, followed by what sounded horribly like a creature biting into flesh. As I approached, a hideous demonic face emerged from inside the chopper, staring out at me with those dark soulless eyes.

It was a third harpy, and the blood pouring down its chin surely confirmed it had been feasting on my dead team members. Recoiling in horror, I ran past the chopper and continued my frantic retreat, as the third harpy clambered out of the twisted metal and joined its devilish companions in the pursuit.

Scanning the horizon, all I could see in the vicinity was a seemingly abandoned stone cottage across the grass field. I sprinted towards the lonely structure in the hope of sanctuary, but the hellish trio were quickly gaining ground.

I could hear their banshee wails and almost feel their hungry glares on the back of my head. The monsters were right on top of me, poised to swoop in and finish me off. But somehow I reached the house, finding the old wooden door open so I could flee inside.

I slammed it shut behind me, hearing the frustrated screeching of the harpies as they clawed at the door and tried to smash their way in through the windows. I knew it wouldn’t be long before the monsters broke their way in, and so I reloaded my pistol and prepared for a desperate last defence.

But then something amazing happened. I was blinded by a light brighter than the sun, shielding my eyes until the intense illumination faded. At first I assumed this was another lightning strike, but I heard no thunder and instead my ears were bombarded by the din of heavenly trumpets.

I dared to look outside through the cracked window and observed an angelic presence – a genderless, winged humanoid entity dressed in golden armour and glowing like the sun, his eyes a stunning shade of blue and with a sword of burning fire in his hands.

The angel descended to ground level and spoke out in a booming, God-like voice.
“Be gone you devilish fiends! Your time in this realm has ended!”

The harpies abandoned their previous attempts to break in as all three focussed upon the heavenly newcomer. They seemed frightened by the angel’s presence but did not retreat or surrender, instead launching into a savage if poorly co-ordinated attack.

Once again, I was reduced to a terrified observer as the demons assaulted the angel one-by-one, but the heavenly warrior had little difficulty in seeing off their attacks. The first harpy was cut through by his sword of flames, screeching in agony as its body literally burnt away into dust.

The angel moved fast, swinging away to chop the second harpy in two. Only the third and final attacker gave my angelic saviour any problem, lashing out and cutting him beneath the breast plate with its claws. The angel cried out but wasn’t seriously hurt – only angered.
In a flash, he swung his mighty sword and cut the harpy’s head from its shoulders, ending the ill-advised attack as quickly as it had begun.

The angel sheathed this now extinguished sword and I noticed how the claw wound on his stomach healed itself in the blink of an eye. Just then, he turned to look upon me through the glass – his piercing blue eyes seeming to glance into my very soul.

And then the angel spoke to me, saying – “God speed sir. I wish you good fortune in the battles to come.”

And with that, my saviour unveiled his vast feathery wings, flapping furiously as he took off and ascended back into the dark skies.

I can’t recall my exact thoughts in that moment, but I believe the phrase I uttered was – ‘What the fuck?’

It was some time before I worked up the courage to leave my temporary sanctuary and brave the terrors that lay beyond its walls. I finally decided it was safe to do so, as no other celestial entities or bloodthirsty demons appeared on the horizon, and all was quiet other than the distant din of thunder.

Cautiously exiting, I observed the still-twitching bodies of the mutilated harpies, almost retching at the foul stench as they slowly and painfully expired on the blood-stained grass. I avoided the doomed creatures, noting how even the severed head continued to move its eyes and jaw.

How could this be possible? The most logical conclusion is that I suffered a head injury during the crash and was now suffering from some sort of paranoid delusion. But everything about this place seemed so real – from the raindrops on my skin to the electric energy created by the violent storm.

So, what other explanation could there be? I suddenly remembered my Catholic upbringing – with lessons on angels, demons, and miracles occurring on our mortal plane. I’d long since dismissed these parables as works of fiction, but how could I rationalise what I’d just witnessed?

My logical brain could not deal with the implications in that moment, so I decided to focus on the here-and-now, and most importantly my own survival. I’d come to Tartarus Island with a clear mission, but this had all gone to shit. My transport was down, my team were dead, and I was stranded without any means of contacting the mainland. I’d discovered as much during my time cowering inside the cottage, when I realised my cell phone had been smashed beyond repair during the crash.

It wasn’t clear what was happening here on the island or whether these events were widespread. In any event, I saw no point in continuing with my own mission. There was no telling whether Kane had survived this unexplained event. And, even if he had, the serial killer was the least of my worries now.

Instead of succumbing to panic, I controlled my breathing and forced myself to remember the briefings and the maps of the island I’d studied in preparation for our mission.

I remembered the cliffs on the eastern side of the landmass and recalled that the one-and-only settlement lay roughly a mile and a half to the southwest. I was far from a road but could surely walk the distance in a short space of time. Hopefully there would be someone still alive and in charge at the fishing village or a telephone line or radio I could use to call the mainland. This was my plan, but predictably it didn’t turn out as expected.

How can I describe the wonders and horrors I witnessed during my short walk across the island? The storm raged on and I was soon drenched with cold rain, adding to the misery I was already suffering due to my throbbing head.

But, through the dark clouds above, I occasionally saw shards of white light breaking through – like beacons leading to a safe port beyond the violent chaos. I watched these beams of impossibly bright illumination and was astonished to witness figures being physically pulled upwards into the light, as if they were being transported by some type of tractor beam.

From such a distance I could not see the faces of those being taken, but I noticed how not one struggled against the celestial power or screamed for help. It seemed these individuals were at peace and content to be taken from our world and transported to whatever lay beyond the darkness.

They were the lucky ones, but worse sights were to come. I passed by an area of marshland on my way to the village, keeping my distance so not to become trapped in the bog. But others had fallen afoul of this trap, whether it was naturally occurring or not.

I saw the doomed figures slowly sinking into the bog, their eyes filled with terror as they screamed desperately for help. I did try to assist these poor souls but couldn’t reach them without putting myself in the same position. And so, to my eternal shame, I was forced to simply stand back and watch as the damned disappeared under the mud one-by-one, dragged down to an uncertain but surely unenviable fate.

I waited until the last head went under before moving on, trying to put the horrors to the back of my mind as I selfishly focussed on saving my own skin.

The village wasn’t much to look at – consisting of a motley collection of wooden homes with sheet metal roofs, a small church adorned with a towering crucifix, and a handful of family-owned businesses. All were set along the small harbour protected by concrete sea walls.
The harbour was the island’s lifeline, as fishing was the main employer and the only ferry to the mainland set sail from here. But there wasn’t a single boat I could see that was still afloat or undamaged. Powerful waves beat against the sea barriers and the harbour was no longer safe, as fishing boats broke from their moorings and smashed against the jetty and rocks.

I scanned the wind and rain swept dock in search of the ferry, only to find it partly submerged in the middle of the harbour, its bow just about visible above the waterline. I shook my head in dismay, realising that escape by water was a near impossibility. It seemed there wasn’t a single sea-worthy ship left in harbour. And, even if there had been, it would be near suicidal to set sail whilst the storm still raged.

I quickly abandoned this plan and ran for shelter in the village, trying the doors one-by-one but receiving no answers to my frantic knocking. In fact, I hadn’t seen a single person in either the harbour or village. Eerily, it seemed like the entire settlement was abandoned.
Eventually I found a small cottage where the front door was unlocked. I announced myself before entering but found no-one inside. Whoever lived here it seemed they’d left in a hurry, as I discovered toast and coffee laid out on the kitchen table – both still warm.

There was a phone line inside the house, but when I lifted the receiver I discovered it was dead. Cursing, I left the empty home and proceeded to the far side of the village. Here I found what passed for the sheriff’s station – really more of a hut converted into a small office and armoury, with a single holding cell at the rear. Tartarus wasn’t exactly a high-crime location. Kane was the exception of course, although it seemed he only committed murders off-island.

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I approached the station – a sixth sense warning me of a potential threat. Instinctively, I withdrew my pistol as I cautiously entered the building. But, as soon as I was through the door, I heard the distinctive click-click of a shotgun being loaded, and I realised someone had got the drop on me. And when my assailant spoke, I recognised a deep but still feminine voice which spoke to me in no uncertain terms.

“Drop your gun and turn around slowly.” she ordered.

I realised I had no chance and so did as instructed, carefully laying my service pistol down on the ground and putting my hands up as I slowly turned to face her. In the corner of the small office, perched behind a desk, was a uniformed deputy – a woman in her mid-to-late thirties, plain-faced with her brunette hair tied back in a bun and a no nonsense look in her focussed brown eyes.

But what really concerned me was the twelve gauge pump-action she held tightly in her hands, the barrel aimed directly at my head.

“Who the hell are you?” she enquired aggressively.

I took a breath, answering calmly as I provided my name and rank.

“I’m going to get my badge from my pocket.” I said carefully, waiting until I received a nod of approval from the shotgun-wielding officer.

Slowly and purposefully, I showed her my credentials and was relieved when she lowered her shotgun and laid it down on the desk.

“So, you’re the agent from the mainland they sent to arrest that asshole Kane.” she said with a sudden flicker of understanding.

“Yes.” I confirmed, “And you must be Tanya, the sheriff’s deputy.”

She replied with a firm nod, and the tension inside the station lessened as I picked up my gun from the floor and returned it to my holster. A short pause ensued before Tanya asked her next question.

“What happened to the rest of your team?” she asked.

“All dead.” I replied whilst trying unsuccessfully to hide the guilt in my voice, “Our chopper got struck by lightning and crash landed. I was one of two survivors. The other man was taken by…something.”

The look on Tanya’s face said it all, as clearly she knew what I was referring to.

“Where’s the sheriff, Tanya?” I asked frantically, “And what the fuck happened here?”

“The sheriff’s dead.” replied a hard-faced Tanya, with only a hint of emotion evident in her voice. “One of those monsters got him. As for what’s happening…Well, I can only speculate. But it seems pretty clear to me.”

“Oh yeah.” I replied, not fully wanting to hear her theory.

“Are you a religious man, Mr fed?” she enquired, “Do you know your Book of Revelations? Surely you know about the rapture, right?”

I wasn’t overly surprised by her conclusion and had no plausible alternative suggestion, and yet I could not accept this chilling explanation.

“You can’t be serious!” I exclaimed, “This isn’t the end of the world. It can’t be!”

Tanya merely shrugged her shoulders dismissively.

“All I can tell you is what I’ve seen and heard.” she explained in a surprisingly calm tone. “It started shortly after midnight when the storm closed in and the ground began to shake. The ferry was struck by lightning and sank in the harbour, and all our lines to the mainland were cut off. I’ve lived on this island my whole life and never saw anything like it. Still, at first we reckoned it was a natural disaster. But then things got really weird.”

“Weird how?” I asked timidly.

“You’ve seen some screwed-up things since you got here, haven’t you g-man?” she asked almost flippantly, “Winged demons ripping people to shreds. Angels descending from the heavens to fight their immortal enemies. They took the children first, pulled them up into the light and through the darkness. I guess they were the innocent ones, those without sin. After the kids, some went up, others were pulled down, and more than a few fell victim to the monsters…”

“So, what are you saying?” I interjected, “Are we the only ones left?”

Tanya shook her head in the negative. “No, not quite. I’ve been across the island and identified two groups of survivors split into rival factions. The first group is up at the lighthouse. They’re good folk for the most part. Not saints by any means, but decent citizens.

The second faction however…Well, they’re holed up in the tavern. And I’m sorry to say, these people have turned to the dark side.”

She paused momentarily, speaking her next words in little more than a whisper.
“They’re all following Kane now. He’s their leader.”

“Joseph Kane!” I exclaimed in genuine shock, “You’re telling me he’s survived all this?”

“Afraid so.” Tanya answered solemnly, “Although I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Murders aside, there’s been dark rumours about Kane for years. Talk of occult rituals, a deal with the devil…I think he’s been preparing for this day for a long time.”

My head was spinning as a result of these frankly unbelievable revelations. Suddenly I was unable to stand on my own two feet, and so I stumbled over to the bench and plonked myself down, holding by heavy head in my hands.

It was nearly impossible for me to comprehend this horrendous situation. I’d got up this morning knowing there was at least a possibility that I wouldn’t make it through the day. But even if I’d died during the planned raid, the rest of the world would go on. Was it really the end? Was the entire world suffering through the same horrific fate as this island? Had all my friends, colleagues and family members already perished? Or were they still fighting for survival against whatever monstrosities had risen from hell’s depths?

I desperately tried to think straight and formulate a new plan in my aching brain. And my first suggestion was this…

“We’ve got to get off this damn island.” I muttered.

Tanya scoffed in contempt before responding. “There’s no chance, g-man. You’ve seen the harbour. All the boats are smashed to hell. And even if you did get off the island, what would you do? If this really is the rapture, then there’s nowhere left to hide.”

A cold chill ran down my spine as I considered the terrifying implications of Tanya’s words. And the worst thing was…she was right. We were trapped and at the mercy of the warring factions of heaven and hell.

“So, what do you suggest we do?” I asked impatiently.

Tanya lifted her shotgun and pumped a new shell into the chamber.
“Well, the way I see it – we still have a job to do. Joseph Kane is a killer, and he’s still on the loose – causing all kinds of mayhem. We may not be able to stop hell’s legions, but at least we can take down a human monster. That’s got to count for something, right?”

My first reaction was to laugh at the absurdity of the deputy’s plan, but then I thought about her proposal and weirdly it started making sense to me. The world was going to hell – quite literally. And there was nothing I could do to stop this. The rapture was entirely outside of my control – but tracking down Joseph Kane? That was something I could do.

“Okay.” I eventually replied after a lengthy pause, “I’m onboard. Where do you suggest we start?”

“The lighthouse.” Tanya replied confidently, “The people up there are potential allies. If we can win them over, then we’ll have a small army at our command.”

I nodded my head, considering her plan. I’ll admit that my pride almost got in the way. This morning, I’d been a federal agent in command of my own assault team. And now, I was apparently taking orders from a part-time sheriff’s deputy. But clearly Tanya had given this some thought and she must be resilient to have survived this long. And besides, I didn’t know the island as well as she did. The lighthouse people would be more likely to listen to Tanya as she’d been their friend and neighbour for many years.

And so, despite my reservations, I nodded my head in confirmation and said – “Okay then deputy. I’ll follow your lead.”

We exited the ghost town and I followed Deputy Tanya as she led us up a coastal path for about three-quarters of-a-mile and we quietly made our way to the lighthouse whilst doing our best to avoid unwanted attention. On that score at least we were successful, as the two of us walked the coastline without any further attacks or incidents. Yes, we observed the fierce storm on the horizon with frequent bursts of thunder and lightning. And we had to dodge the heavy waves as they struck the shoreline. From further inland we heard the occasional blood-curdling scream or chilling roar, but thankfully the demons assaulting the island let us be.

I recall seeing the lighthouse before us – a forty-to fifty-foot-high tower of white stone set upon a protruding headland and looking out to sea. The sight of this homely structure brought some cheer to my weary heart. I imagined better times, when the lighthouse would shine its life-saving illumination to guide ships away from the treacherous rocks and towards the safety of the island’s harbour.

Unfortunately, the tower no longer served this purpose, as its light was now extinguished and there were no ships to guide. But in a way, the lighthouse still symbolised a beacon of hope – the last outpost of decency and goodness upon an island overrun by the forces of darkness. At least, that was what I hoped to find as we approached the building – although, the closer we came to the tower, the more I got the unpleasant feeling that something wasn’t right.

I guess Tanya had the same sixth sense, as she cocked her shotgun and proceeded with caution while we covered the last one hundred metres.

What we found at the base of the lighthouse was a scene of bloody chaos, as several men and women lay dead – sprawled across the blood-stained ground with bullet or stab wounds clearly visible on their bodies. There were multiple corpses spread across the foreground and more at the entrance to the tower. I noted how the white walls were riddled with bullet holes and the door was smashed in.

All this didn’t bode well, but we proceeded inside regardless, hoping against hope to find some survivors on our side. But our hopes were in vain.

As we climbed up the spiral staircase, we discovered yet more bodies. All had died violently, and we were forced to clamber over them to progress. And then we reached the top level and found the aftermath of a revolting massacre.

Three people of undeterminable age and gender had been brutally executed, with their bodies being mutilated after death. All three had been crudely decapitated and their severed heads were not present at the scene. The stench of death and sight of blood and gore made me retch, and it was a struggle not to vomit all over the crimson-soaked floor.

Tanya tried to hide it, but I could tell she was deeply distressed, and it took all her strength to keep it together. These victims had been her friends and neighbours after all. The deputy nevertheless took her time to examine the bodies one-by-one, composing herself before she turned and spoke to me in her characteristically composed voice.

“Okay g-man. The good guys are dead, and so’s our original plan of action. Time for plan B, I guess.”

I raised my eyebrows in near disbelief.

“Plan B?” I exclaimed, “Just look at this place! Surely we’re totally fucked!”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Tanya answered thoughtfully, a spark of defiance in her bloodshot eyes and a thin smile forming on her lips.

“My people may be gone, but they put up a fierce fight. A lot of the bodies downstairs are from Kane’s faction. He won, but his army is greatly reduced. And he won’t expect any further resistance. We still have a chance to take those fuckers out.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

“Are you crazy?” I asked, “If we attack their base we’ll be outnumbered and outgunned. And that’s assuming we even make it that far. Hell, those demons will probably rip us apart long before we get there.”

Tanya’s grin widened, and I swore I could see a madness in her intense gaze.

“Sure, odds are we won’t make it. But we’re both doomed anyway…so at least we can go down in a blaze of glory. God hates a coward, that’s what my daddy used to say.”

The deputy was insane – I was sure of that now. All this anarchy, violence and death had surely pushed her over the edge. And yet, I found it impossible to argue with her twisted logic. And it’s not like I had any plans other than to sit and wait for my maker to take me. If I only had a short time left to live, I might as well use it to dish out some justice to those who undoubtedly deserved punishment.

And so I nodded my head in agreement, committing to following Tanya just a little bit further…along a path which would likely lead to my violent death.

We survived our trek across the island, but the hike was anything but tranquil. Tanya deliberately kept us off the roads as we sought to avoid unwanted attention. We must have trudged for two or three miles along a water-logged mud pathway, all the time anxiously watching the skies above us.

Nevertheless, it didn’t take long for the winged demons to find us. I spotted the first red dot descending from the dark skies, quickly followed by a second, third and fourth. I shouted a warning to my companion, and we both dropped down on one knee and aimed our weapons upwards.

But before long there were many harpies descending upon us – at least two dozen by my count. And the murderous pack soon came closer – their ravenous black eyes and salivating, fang-filled jaws now clearly visible. I experienced a cold chill of terror but also an acute anger because I thought our end was nigh. We were caught out in the open you see, with nowhere to hide. And even our combined firepower wouldn’t be enough to take them all out.
Glancing across at Tanya, I saw a hint of fear underneath her otherwise steely appearance. But the deputy wasn’t for giving up, and I was committed to fighting by her side to the bitter end.

We both readied our guns and waited for the vile harpies to come into range, but they only came so far before halting their descent. Tanya and I were sitting ducks, but the winged demons didn’t press home their advantage. Instead, they circled menacingly about 50 foot above us, cackling and wailing but not attacking.

I wondered why this was, and the conclusion I came to was not a good one. I reckoned the harpies were being held back from tearing us apart by an even more powerful and malicious entity. And I imagined this unseen monstrosity had other plans for the two of us.

I was terrified but didn’t voice my concerns to Tanya, as I noticed how she seemed uncertain for the first time since I’d met her.

“What should we do?” she asked me, having to shout to be heard over the hellish din.

“We keep going.” I shouted back firmly.

And my display of confidence seemed to have the desired effect, as Tanya nodded her head in agreement and we moved forward. The harpies continued to follow us during the rest of our miserable trek – their high-pitched shrieks only adding to the extreme tension as we prepared for battle.

Tanya was good to her word on the location of Kane’s hellish faction, as they were holed up inside the island’s only functioning tavern – a run-down bar with peeling paint and a worn-out sign over its front door. We heard the criminals before we saw them, noting their loud and raucous celebrations and cheers.

Slowly moving into position, Tanya and I crept over to the bar’s window to clandestinely observe the scene inside. The occupants appeared to be having an impromptu party and all were clearly intoxicated. I counted four in total – two men and two women. All had a similar roguish appearance – their hair dishevelled, eyes bloodshot and crazed, and clothes covered in the blood of their enemies.

The four cackled like hyenas and their behaviour was more animalistic than that of civilised human beings. I noted how their weapons – pistols and machetes – were close at hand, but clearly they were not expecting an attack as they passed a whiskey bottle back and forth, drinking excessively as they sniggered hatefully.

But what was the cause of their joviality? I soon found out, as to my utter disgust I spotted the three severed heads of the lighthouse people sitting upon the filthy bar – sick trophies brought home by these sadistic hunters.

It didn’t take me long to find Kane amongst the horrific quartet. I recognised the killer from his mugshot, noting his dark complexion and intense, predatory eyes as he held court over his fellow murderers and led the sickening celebrations.

With these observations made, I glanced over at Tanya and saw she shared my disgust at this macabre display, her face now red with fury.

“Let’s do this.” I whispered.

And a moment later we retreated from the window, readying our guns before we kicked in the barroom door and confronted the human monsters inside.

We entered the room aggressively, taking our enemies entirely by surprise as we aimed our guns directly at them. But in the next moment, everything seemed to go into slow motion as we entered a tense stand-off. Unfortunately, Tanya and I were uncertain of what to do next. We’d gone to the tavern with the intention of killing these vile, devil-worshipping cultists. But we’d both been trained as cops and had sworn to uphold the law. The prospect of killing suspects in cold blood didn’t come easy to us.

Thankfully the stand-off did not last, as the male cultist suddenly drew the pistol from his belt and made to fire, but Tanya got the drop on him – blowing the man away with her shotgun before he fired a single shot. I was mesmerised by the bloody gore for a second but was soon brought back to reality as a bullet whizzed past my head.

Quickly turning, I saw one of the female cultists firing wildly in my direction. My training kicked in as I aimed my pistol and fired three rounds into her torso, taking the woman down. A split second later, and I heard a blood-curdling scream from my right-hand side. The second woman was charging at me, screaming out and wielding a machete. I started to turn to face my attacker but this proved unnecessary, as Tanya took her out with a blast from her pump-action.

We’d eliminated the soldiers but their twisted leader was still up and fighting. And before either of us could act, Kane opened fire – showering us with bullets as he emptied his gun. I ducked into cover before returning fire. Kane was fleeing now and I shot at him whilst he ran, but sadly all my bullets missed the mark as I expended my magazine, cursing as I watched my target retreating into a back room.

Instead of pursuing my quarry I turned to check on my companion, only to make a horrifying discovery. One of Kane’s bullets had struck Tanya square in the forehead, killing her instantly. I took a moment to look down at her dead eyes and remember the deputy’s great bravery and how she’d pushed me to go on even at my lowest point. And I knew I had to finish the job for Tanya.

Kane had to die, and it was up to me to put the rabid dog down. I carefully closed Tanya’s eyelids with my fingers before picking up her discarded shotgun, loading a fresh shell into the chamber as I ran forward, passing by the dead bodies and severed heads as I continued my tireless pursuit of the target.

I pushed through the swing doors and entered what passed for a kitchen, quickly scanning the unclean surfaces and overturned pots in search of my quarry. But Kane got the drop on me, charging out from my blind spot and tackling me with an almost inhuman strength.
I pulled the trigger of the shotgun but fired high and wide, and the force of Kane’s assault knocked the weapon from my hands and put me down on the ground. A second later and the vicious killer was on top of me, pinning my body to the ground and attempting to stab a butcher’s knife through my ribcage.

Kane didn’t speak, but the predatory look in his eyes said it all. He was going to slaughter me like a pig unless I took action. Using all the strength I had left, I kicked upwards – striking my assailant and forcing him off me.

Kane cursed and stumbled backwards, but he wasn’t beaten – far from it. I saw the fury in his eyes as he snarled and raised his blade, preparing for the next and surely final attack. I was still on the ground and winded, so Kane must have considered me an easy prey. But there was something he didn’t know about – the .38 snub revolver I kept in my ankle holster.

As quickly as I could, I reached and drew the gun – aiming it directly at Kane’s chest. For the first time I saw genuine fear in the murderer’s eyes. Joseph Kane enjoyed violently taking the lives of others, but when the tables were turned he became a snivelling coward.
I held him at gunpoint as he dropped his knife and raised his hands, pleading – “Please! Don’t shoot!”

But we were well past that point, and I wouldn’t fall for the bastard’s tricks. After only a second’s hesitation I pulled the trigger. BANG. And then I fired again and again, not stopping until all six bullets were expended.

Kane was shot half-a-dozen times at point-blank range, and he fell backwards – his limp body slumping against the wall. His eyes were filled with shock and pain, and he tried to open his mouth to speak, only for a torrent of blood to seep out. And then Kane stopped moving and breathing, his mortal life finally ended and his dark soul hopefully banished to the depths of hell.

I pulled myself up off the tiled floor and took a moment to grimly admire my own deadly handiwork before leaving the kitchen and exiting the bar, escaping from the bloody scene behind me. I’d completed the mission I’d set out to do. Joseph Kane was no more. But what now?

I walked back out into the open to discover my impending doom. While the storm still raged fiercely on the horizon, the foreground was dominated by a pack of blood-thirsty harpies. I saw half-a-dozen of the red-scaled beasts perched in the parking lot with three more waiting on the roof of the tavern. And others circled in the dark skies above, all waiting to strike.
I was out of ammunition and so could not defend myself, and there was nowhere left to run. I looked into the ravenous eyes of the vicious winged demons and prepared myself for the coming onslaught. But then something quite unexpected occurred.

Suddenly and as if from nowhere, a deafening din assaulted my ears – the mighty sound of trumpets blaring which seemed to be coming from all around me. I covered my ears in a futile attempt to drown out the noise, but the impact of the trumpets was much more pronounced on the harpies.

Those demons hated the noise which seemed to cause them physical pain. I watched on in shocked awe as the monsters retreated in chaos, blood pouring from the holes which passed as their ears as they shrieked frantically and flapped their wings, fleeing back into the storm above.

I didn’t get a breather however, as a fantastic shard of white light burst through the dark clouds and descended upon me. Soon, my entire body was paralysed and trapped inside the heavenly tractor beam. My feet rose off the ground as my body was pulled upwards. I had zero control over my situation and yet I felt no fear or panic. In fact, an eery but tranquil calm came over me as I was transported into the heavens, and I felt myself drifting into a peaceful slumber.

I awoke in a strange place – very strange in fact. I was sitting upon a comfortable chair of fine leather and opened my eyes to observe a small windowless office, seeing a solid oak desk in front of me that was covered by an untidy array of loose papers.

Behind the desk sat an old man – grey haired, portly and dressed in a smart yet somewhat bedraggled dark suit. The man looked frazzled and stressed; his eyes red as he muttered to himself whilst scribbling untidy notes on a piece of parchment using an ink quill.

The more I observed the scene, the surer I became that this mystery individual was not in fact a mortal man. But yet, he took on the appearance of an overworked and stressed-out bureaucrat.

I guess it took the mysterious entity a moment to notice me. I was keen to gain the man’s attention, so I cleared my throat and he raised his head, meeting my gaze with a friendly smile.

“Oh, hello there!” he said in a clipped accent before addressing me by my full name. “Thank you so much for coming sir. I’m sorry that the circumstances of your transportation were so…unorthodox.”

I shook my head, unsure how to respond to this bizarre greeting.

“Where am I?” I eventually managed to splutter in the way of a question.

“Oh, this is my office.” the man replied with a gentle laugh, “Again, I must apologise for the mess and chaos. It’s been quite a busy day, as you can imagine.”

I didn’t understand what he meant and was none the wiser.
“But who are you?” I asked impatiently.

“Forgive me sir.” he replied whilst raising his hand defensively, “You are owed an explanation after all. I am an administrator of sorts, tasked by the Almighty with co-ordinating this unfortunate business…”

Suddenly it started making sense in my exhausted and throbbing head.
“You mean you’re in charge of the rapture? The end of times?”

“Oh no.” the administrator answered with a dry chuckle, “This isn’t the end of the world, good sir. That’s not scheduled to happen for quite some time. What occurred today was merely a practice run…”

“A practice run?” I repeated in near disbelief.

“Why yes.” he confirmed, “We run drills such as this every century or so, training our forces and analysing data in preparation for the big event. It’s all very standard really.”

I was taken aback by the administrator’s casual attitude to the horrors his superiors had unleashed. Had they really just sacrificed the lives of several hundred people for a god-damn training exercise? And why the hell would the Lord in Heaven even need to resort to such measures? Wasn’t he all-powerful and all-seeing?

My head was once again spinning. I was furious, exhausted and confused all at the same time. There were so many follow up questions I could’ve asked, but in the end I could only think of one.

“How did the exercise go?” I enquired.

The administrator grimaced and broke eye contact before answering.

“Not well, I’m afraid. This Joseph Kane threw a spanner in the works. It’s not often we find such an evil killer in a small and isolated community, let alone one in league with the devil. And then there’s the matter of you and your companions on that helicopter contraption. None of you were meant to be here you see. I’m sorry you got caught up in our little exercise. And that brings me to the pressing matter…”

I leaned forward in my chair, frightened but also hanging on this strange entity’s every word.
“The pressing matter is you, good sir.” he confirmed whilst once again meeting my eye, “It’s too late to do anything about your companions. Sadly, their mortal lives are over and so they must pass to the next realm. But you sir have survived against the odds, and it seems unfair to keep you here when you’ve still got a full life to live. So, my superiors have decided to send you back…”

I was flabbergasted, no longer able to contain myself as I stood up from my chair and pointed accusingly at the administrator.

“Now, wait a damn minute! You can’t do this! I demand answers!”

But the bedraggled administrator was no longer interested as he got back to his paperwork.
“Yes, very well.” he said dismissively, “I would love to help you further. But sadly, we’re out of time.”

I lurched forward at him, but the administrator merely needed to click his fingers and suddenly I was consumed by a white light, feeling my body falling as everything went dark.
When I regained consciousness I found myself back on the island, lying on a sandy beach with the mainland visible to the east of me. The storm had ended, and all I could see were blue skies and calm seas. To my immense relief there wasn’t a demon in sight. And, at the end of the beach was a jetty with a small rowboat tied to it. My means of escape was at hand, and I didn’t hesitate in leaving that damned place.

There is no official record of the botched raid I led, the immolation of the island’s population, or even the existence of the Tartarus community itself. Any accounts you read of the island’s history will say it was abandoned decades ago, and the local population fear to tread on its lands due to old rumours of ghosts, demons and hostile spirits.

As for me, I returned to the agency only to find no record of the Kane investigation. The six murders he committed off island are listed as unsolved cases. Then there’s Rodriguez and the other men from my team. They are all deceased, but the authorities say they died in separate incidents at different locations – training accidents, car crashes, officer-involved shootings, and so forth.

Its all been one gigantic cover up. But to date, I’ve been unable to confirm whether the government are responsible or if the celestial powers have somehow altered our timeline. Some may call me delusional, but there are others out there who remember the small fishing community of Tartarus and the fierce storm which fell upon the island on one summer’s morning.

I’ve found these individuals online and have been able to verify many of the details, confirming a kind of Mandela Effect existing around the incident and island. I also remember what the administrator said about these exercises and how they take place every century. I wonder whether this could shed light on other unexplained disappearances, such as the Roanoke colony, the Marie Celeste, and the Flannan Isles lighthouse.

I doubt I’ll ever discover the full truth, not in this world at least. But one thing is certain to me now – heaven and hell do exist, and one day their forces will come to end our world. I intend to live the rest of my life accordingly and in recognition of this harsh reality, and I suggest you do so too.

Credit: Mark Lynch

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