A loud buzzing filled the air as two large Sea King rescue helicopters skimmed over the forest.  The trees lay broken and twisted, the once green landscape of central China, now littered with huge cracks and craters. In many areas the trees had completely vanished, swallowed up by the earth, and in the distance, could be seen the mountains of Tibet, the closer ones were now mis-shapen and broken, crumbling under the power of the colossal earthquake, an earthquake that shook the entire planet.
    The helicopters passed over the trees and onto a great expanse of open land.
    "My God, look at that!" said one of the pilots, pointing out of the window.
    A massive crevasse lay before them, close to a quarter of a mile across, and maybe fifteen to twenty miles in length.
    "Lieutenant Anderson," came the voice over the radio.
    "Anderson here," replied the co-pilot, "go ahead."
    "This is Sergeant West, sir," came the voice again.  "Request permission to fly over to that hole and investigate."
    "Permission granted, Sergeant," said Anderson.  "We'll continue on to the next village to look for survivors.  Over and out."
    The two huge flying machines parted company, one continuing en route, the other veered off toward the gaping crevasse.
    The large helicopter drew closer to the giant hole.  The Sea king was dark green in colour, with the insignia of the Multi-national Rescue Service painted on it's side.  There were two sidewinder missiles locked in place on it's under-side.  It's side door was open, revealing a Browning M2 machine gun - usually the aircrafts were unarmed in accordance to an agreement with the Chinese government, but these were extenuating circumstances, besides, there wasn't much of a government left to argue with them.
    "Ramirez, take us down lower, so I can get a better look," said Sergeant West.
    The pilot pushed his flight stick forward, the helicopter slowly moved downward, hovering ten feet from the ground, approaching the edge of the crevasse.
    West looked down, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw - half a mile, a mile at the most, no, this was much deeper, it went down four miles at least, before it become to dark to see.  It's depth was haunting, it seemed to go on forever - bottomless.
    "My God - the gateway to hell," came a voice froom behind, carrying a slight German accent.
    It was Doctor Richter, he was an old man, he wore small round spectacles with thin wire frames, his hair was greying, and stubble covered his chin.  He wasn't a feeble man, quite the opposite, he was very well set, probably quite a tough guy in his day, but now he was overshadowed by the other men sat next to him.
    Although it was capable of carrying more than twenty people, the helicopter seemed empty now, with only five inhabitants - Sergeant West, Corporal Ramirez, Doctor Richter, Corporal Dupres, and Corporal Murray.
    West leaned over and tapped the pilot's shoulder.  "Ramirez, take us down further.
    With a swift movement of his hand, the pilot pushed the flight stick forward again, and the huge helicopter dropped steadily into the crevasse.
    They were now more than half a mile below ground level, the wind still swirled around them, and the sunlight still shone in their eyes.  The hole was so big, it was as if they were flying between two mountains, in fact, you could have flown a jet through it.
    Suddenly, everything went silent, the wind stopped howling, the loud, vibrant hum of the rotors became a soft swishing, as if the wind had gone.
    "What's happening?" came a deep, bellowing voice from the back of the helicopter, as Corporal Murray came forward to join his companions at the front.  The tall, burly Englishman had the build of a sumo wrestler and a face you'd expect to see on a police mugshot.
    "Calm down, Corporal," ordered West, turning to look his man in the eyes, and then back to his pilot, "Ramirez?"
    Ramirez turned his head to face the Sergeant, "Sir?"
    "What the hells going on?"
    "I... not know... no wind, I think."
    Ramirez spoke slowly, his strong Spanish accent standing out like the moon in the night sky, but what he lacked in the English language he more than made up for with his skill as a pilot.  Leaning forward, he started to check some of the dials and flicking switches.  "The compass... it spins like... like crazy.  I don't understand."
    "Get us out of here quick, Corporal," shouted West, with a strain of urgency.
    Ramirez pulled back gently on the stick.  The tone of the rotors changed as the huge aircraft started to climb.
    They had been rising for no more than a minute, when suddenly, with a tremendous jerk, the helicopter came to a stop - the lights on the control panel died instantly, and the machine, with rotors still spinning, began to plunge down toward the awaiting darkness, falling quickly into the depths of the crevasse.
    Murray crawled quickly to the back of the aircraft, and, after fumbling in the ever increasing darkness, found a key. immediately he turned it, and four bright emergency lights flashed on, illuminating the aircraft's dark interior.
    Corporal Dupres was already underneath the control panel with a small torch, checking wires, circuit boards, and fuses, trying to restore power, while Ramirez frantically fought with the flight stick, in a vain attempt to regain control of the plummeting helicopter.
    With a loud fizz, the control panel lit up, and with it, returned the familiar hum of the rotors.
    By now they were over a mile below ground level, the darkness swelled all around them.  West leant forward and flicked two switches just above his head.  Around them, the darkness dissipated as the bright external lights of the helicopter burst into effect.
    The helicopter hung in the darkness like a glowing orb of light.
    Inside, Sergeant West tried to restore calm - not that there was much panic - they were all too professional for that.
    "Dammit, what the hell happened?" he shouted at no-one in particular, then looking at Ramirez, and then at Dupres, "Ramirez? Dupres?"
    "The main control circuit burnt out," answered Corporal Dupres, almost instantly, "I managed to by-pass the damaged areas, but radar and radio are out, and so is the flight control."
    "Flight control?  What's that supposed to mean?"
    "We cannot manoeuvre, I had to disconnect the flight stick, we can only maintain our present height and position."
    "Can you fix it?"
    "I can give us vertical movement in about ten minutes, but it will be very slow."
    "I don't care how slow it is, just get us moving. Ramirez, how much fuel have we got left?"
    Ramirez hesitated for a moment, checking the fuel gauge before answering.  "About fifty minutes."
    Corporal Dupres was already at work on the circuits, re-routing power to different areas - the young french engineer was blessed with a skill that surpassed his years.
    Soon the light outside began to dim, a new form of darkness started to enshroud them, a darkness so black that not even the powerful external spotlights could penetrate it.
    "Dupres, have you reduced power to the lights?" West asked calmly, assuming that was what he was doing.
    "Eh... no, I am not near that circuit, why?" The young Frenchman was caught off guard, his concentration aimed at his immediate task.
    "I don't know - the external lights seem to be growing dimmer," said West, concern mounting in his voice.  A booming voice from behind suddenly drew his attention.
    "Hey, is it just me, or is it getting cold in here?" said Murray.
    "Yes, I have noticed it too," said Richter, "the temperature seems to have dropping for several minutes now."
    West turned back to the control panel and looked at the thermometer.  "My god, at this rate it'll be freezing in her in a few minutes.  Everyone put your coats on."
    Dupres slid out from under the control panel as Murray handed him a thick fur-lined coat.  He was just in the process of putting it on, when suddenly, the whole helicopter gave a huge shudder, as if something had hit it and was now carrying it along.
    The moist, almost living blackness had encased them.  This was not normal darkness, there was something strange about it, something different, something sinister, overwhelmingly evil.
    Murray clutched his throat with his huge hands, then dropped to the floor, gasping for air.  Doctor Richter quickly rushed to his side and started to wrestle with Murray's large arms, trying to stop him from throttling himself.
    West leapt from his seat to help Richter.  The American, although not as strong as Murray, was able to restrain the struggling Englishman long enough for the doctor to slip an oxygen mask over his face.
    "Murray, calm down, take deep breaths."  Richter was shouting, trying to make himself heard by the panic-stricken Corporal lying on the floor beneath him.
    After a few moments, Murray calmed down, breathing more easily.  Sergeant West released his grip and was about to speak, then suddenly his lungs seemed to tighten, he took a deep breath, but there was no air.  At the same time Dupres and Ramirez also started to gasp for oxygen.  Richter, being the closest to the side door, could feel the air being sucked out as it passed his head.
    "My God, the air is disappearing.  Everyone put your oxygen masks on," he shouted frantically, while at the same time grabbing a mask from under one of the seats - West, Dupres, and Ramirez did likewise.
    Several minutes passed, and then, once everyone had recovered from the shock, West took charge again.
    "Corporal Dupres, continue with the repairs, Corporal Ramirez, see if you can help him."  The Sergeants voice was slightly muffled by the oxygen mask, but they understood.
    "Sergeant," said Richter.
    "Yes?"
    "We haven't got much time left - these masks contain enough oxygen for twenty minutes."
    "Okay," said West, pausing for a moment, "Dupres, we're running out of time, get that thing working ass quickly as you can."
    Doctor Richter moved over to the large side door and slid it fully open.  Outside, the unnatural darkness, almost jelly-like in appearance, filled the space around them.
    Richter reached out, with one hand firmly grasping a leather strap hanging from the ceiling, and the other, he plunged into the black mass.
    Upon touching the darkness, Richter felt a strange tingling sensation.  It wasn't like he'd expected - completely the opposite, in fact.  Instead of the freezing temperature he felt in the helicopter, the blackness was warm and soothing.
    The darkness was wonderful, so soft and comforting.  The tingling was massaging his hand.  He could feel his muscles relaxing, he felt as though he was swimming in a sea of warm water.
    Soon the warm turned to hot, and the hot to burning - he tried desperately to retract his hand, but it was being held there by some unseen force, he wanted to scream in agony but was unable, he could feel his flesh melting away in the fire, his consciousness began to drift - he was floating, all alone.
    The darkness was fading, white light taking it's place.  A cool breeze passed over Richter's body as he floated through the air, marvelling at the beautiful sights all around him.  Bright golden figures swam through the air - slim child-like beings, their faces seeemed featureless except for their huge gleaming eyes.  They floated in the light, like fish in the sea, sometimes they touched, just for a moment, and then continued on their way.
    The atmosphere was filled with the harmonious tones of angelic voices, singing soft tunes in an unknown tongue.  Bright stars, sparkling all the colours of the rainbow continually rained down from above, the little golden people weaving passed each other to collect them.  Everything was so peaceful and beautiful.  Theses beings didn't seem to have a care in the world, all they did was float through the air, singing and catching falling stars - they seemed to be at one with the univverse, even life itself.
    Suddenly, the singing was interrupted by a tremendous explosion, as a huge black hole began to open in the light - the singing was now replaced by the roar of thunder.
    Something moved in the darkness, emerging, coming forward into the light.  It was a huge beast, like a dragon - black, with great leathery wings, it's flesh torn and rotting, like one of the undead, bones protruding through dull, scaley skin.
    Upon it's back sat a giant skeletal figure, not of human origin - long horns rose from it's dark, mis-shapen skull, and short, bony wings emerged from it's back.  In it's hand, it held a long black staff, one end shaped like an axe, the other gave off an eerie red glow.
    As the beast and it's rider burst into the light, they soon found themselves surrounded by the glowing beings.  When small golden figures drew closer, the dark skeletal rider thrashed out ferociously, striking them with it's staff, burning and hacking them, and knocking them through the air, while the beast ripped and tore at them with it's huge claws and razor-like teeth.
    Even in death, the little golden beings were beautiful, they would burst into a million gold and silver embers, and mix with the light that surrounded them.
    The demon and it's mount had dispersed with at least ten of the 'Angels' before they were finally overpowered and destroyed, it took more then thirty of the little glowing creatures to do so.  The monsters were transformed from black to gold, and then from gold to nothing.
    The golden beings linked their tiny hands and flew around in circles, rejoicing in their victory over darkness - but their celebration was premature, as another beast emerged from the black hole, then another, and another - dozens more appeared in the distance, all bearing the demonic, skeletal riders.
    The riders were all different, all non-human - one had four arms, another had two heads, all were twisted, mis-shapen monstrosities, all carried dark, metallic staffs.
    As they broke into the light, the beasts and demon riders, hacking and slashing, slew the angels before them, while behind them, the ever-growing darkness increased it's hold.  Occasionally the angels would muster enough force to destroy one the demons, but for every demon they destroyed, two took it's place - they were fighting a losing battle against a relentless and unyielding foe.  Every passing minute saw the angels number diminish, while that of the demons increased.
    The light was almost completely engulfed by the darkness, the stars no longer fell.  The demons slew the last of the angels - they had won, 'Heaven' had fallen.
    "Doctor?" said the rough English voice.
    Richter turned around slowly, retracting his hand from the black mass outside the helicopter.  He looked at Murray, and then at the others.  His eyes were filled with a vacant, far away look, his face white and expressionless.
    "I understand now," he said, his voice full of emptiness, "I have seen the power."
    "Eh? Doc, are you alright?" Murray seemed confused by Richter's behaviour.
    West looked around to see what was happening.  Richter was bending down to pick up a long screwdriver that Dupres had just been using.
    "Richter, what's wrong?" West shouted, making sure that he could be heard through the muffling effect of the oxygen mask.
    Richter spun round like a whirlwind, and plunged the screwdriver into the sergeant's stomach.  West let out a cry as he fell to his knees.  Richter withdrew the screwdriver, ready for another strike.  Immediately, Murray grabbed him from behind in a bear hug, Richter threw himself backward with the strength of a wild beast, slamming Murray into the side of the helicopter.  Murray hit the metal with the force of a battering ram, causing him to fall to the floor, unable to move, temporarily stunned.
    Again, Richter charged toward West, determined to finish him off - this time he was intercepted by Dupres.
    The young Frenchman was extremely fast and incredibly agile.  Bringing up his right leg, he kicked the screwdriver out of Richter's hand, and then turned to deliver a powerful side kick to the older man's chest, sending him stumbling backward.
    As if possessed by the devil himself, the old man rushed forward again, swinging his fists in a fit of rage.
    Ramirez rose from his seat and drew a pistol from the holster strapped to his thigh, preparing to shoot if Richter got too close.  Raising his arm, he trained his sights on the insane doctor.
    All in one continual movement, Dupres squatted and spun round, while at the same time, kicking outward, sweeping Richter's legs from under him.  Richter slammed against the floor -  instantly, he started to his feet again, but this time he was too slow, and a tremendous, hammer-like blow from Murray rendered the old doctor unconscious.
    Ramirez lowered his arm and slid the pistol back into it's holster, then rushed over to aid the wounded sergeant.  Dupres came over with the medical kit, while Murray bound the doctor's hands and feet.
    "Dammit!  Leave me Dupres, I can tend my own wounds, just get back to the repairs or we'll all die," groaned West, his voice strained through the loss of blood, but he was right - if Dupres didn't get the flight system going again, they'd all die.
    Several minutes passed by, and then Dupres emerged from underneath the control panel.
    "Try it now, Ramirez."
    Ramirez pulled back on the flight stick, the sound of the whirring rotors changed, became louder and speeded up, and then, slowly but surely, the helicopter started it's long assent up the crevasse.
    A cheer of excitement rose in the aircraft.
    "Well done, Corporal," said West, his speech becoming more and more slurred, while Murray struggled to slow down the blood that was gushing from the sergeants stomach.
    Dupres went back to work on the circuits, in the hope to increase their speed - in about ten minutes, the air in the mmasks would begin to run out.
    Looking below them, through the front windscreen, Ramirez saw two yellow spots.  "I see something... lights, I think."
    "Help me to my seat, Corporal," said West, with a great deal of effort.
    Murray lifted him into the co-pilot's seat, while Dupres, again slipped from beneath the control panel.
    Before them, in the darkness, grew two lights, they were a dim, yellow-white colour.  Maybe they weren't dim at all, maybe the blackness only made them seem dim.
    As the lights drew closer, they were accompanied by a loud flapping sound, like the sound of beating wings, only a thousand times louder.  The crew of the helicopter looked on in horror as they saw a huge bat-like shape, hurtling toward them - they weren't lights, they were eyes.
    The helicopter shook as the giant creature flew past them, caught in the torrent of wind that followed.
    "What the hell was that?" screamed West, the sudden rush of adrenalin recharging his weakened body.
    The aircraft spun wildly, out of control, as the creature struck the tail rotor.  Ramirez fought for control, struggling to steady the swirling machine.  Finally, the helicopter came to a grinding halt, it's inhabitants left feeling nauseated, their heads still spinning.
    Murray crawled over to the browning, and readied it for firing, then fully opened the side door.  Hovering close by, the creature prepared for another attack, and then, with the speed of a rocket, threw itself upon them.
    There was a roar, accompanied by a burst of fire, as murray opened up with the machine gun.  The creature let out a piercing screech, like the sound of a giant hawk, and then fell into the darkness.
    Silence overcame them, while they awaited the creature's next move, and then, when nothing happened, continued on their upward flight.
    Suddenly, as if from nowhere, the creature struck again, this time from beneath, causing the helicopter to tilt viciously.  Murray, unprepared, was thrown toward the open door.  He grabbed at the gun, hoping it would stop him from falling, but it did him no good - the mounts holding the machine gun to the helicopter broke under his combined weight and velocity - he disappeared, screaming into the darrkness.
    Dupres fell, knocked off his feet by Richter, as the doctor's unconscious body rolled out of the door.  Being faster than Murray, as he toppled through the doorway, Dupres managed to grab hold of the narrow grooves that allowed the door to slide.  He was in agony as the metal began to bite into his fingers, and then another pain took him.
    The burning sensation began in his legs, then his waist, then his chest and his arms - the blackness was absorbing him, he feelt as though he were on fire, he could hold on no longer, his fingers finally lost their grip, and, releasing the metal, he was gone.
    Ramirez, again fought for control, this time knowing that he wouldn't win - there was too much damage.  Huge cracks appeared in the glass, allowing the blackness to seep through - it was already behind them, coming in through the open door.
    The creature struck again, this time it's huge talons grabbed the aircraft's main rotors, stopping them in mid-spin.  The helicopter shook and jolted viciously, fire broke out on the inside, fed not by the air, but by the blackness.
    Dragged along by the giant bat-like monster, the aircraft spun madly through the darkness, and then, with a huge explosion, smashed into the dark, stone wall of the crevasse.  With it's last two inhabitants, the doom-stricken machine plunged to it's death, in a ball of flame.
 

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