The Regent

by Marcus Richardson

  “What’s this cluster up here?” asked Bennett, moving closer to the screen and indicating a knot of people at the extreme end of the Royal Mile. They were just at the edge of the parade grounds in front of the castle itself.

  “We don’t know yet,” replied Thaler.

  “Looks like whatever the hell is going on, it’s serious,” Revellue mused.

  The president glanced at Admiral Bennett. “What else?”

  The admiral grunted, then pointed halfway down the Royal Mile. “If those are cops, sir, they’re either dead or wounded.”

  Secretary Thaler zoomed in and the oblong bright spots solidified into prone figures, arms and legs spread out as they lay on the ground. The image was pixilated and increasingly blurry as he zoomed in, but it was unmistakably the image of a person laying face down on the street.

  “The more I look at this, gentlemen,” the president muttered, “the more this looks like a war zone.”

  “My thoughts exactly, sir,” Bennett said. He stared at the cluster of people who appeared to be running for their lives for the castle. “This doesn’t make any sense. You got cops down over here, some of them still on their feet over here,” he said pointing at different spots on the Royal Mile. “And this little group up here, running hell bent for leather for the castle. If I had to guess, I’d say these people were running from whatever hit the cops.”

  “The gas they told us about?” asked Chief of Staff Revellue.

  “We can’t even confirm there was a chemical attack,” warned the Secretary of Defense.

  “Whatever it was, you can see the pattern is different—down here,” the admiral said, pointing toward the east end of the Royal Mile near Holyrood Palace, “people are spread out, leaning against buildings or laying on the ground. At the other end,” he said pointing west, toward the castle, “they’re packed tightly together and clearly running.”

  “Do we know if it’s affecting just the people on the streets or those still inside buildings?” asked the president.

  The secretary defense shook his head. “Unknown, sir. We’re working on it.”

  “Sir, those Rangers aren’t going to get there in time. We need boots on the ground right now.”

  “What about assets in Europe?” the president asked. “Mopping-up operations are still going strong. Can we retask someone?”

  The admiral nodded. “I have a SEAL team currently operating in Belgium hunting down a lead on one of the last remaining Councilors. They can be in Edinburgh in less than two hours.”

  “That’s still a long time,” the president said, turning back to the screen.

  “It’s a hell of a lot better than eight hours,” Bennett replied.

  The president nodded. “Agreed. Make the call, Roger.” He turned to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “If we can save Tecumseh, we might just save this conference and have a chance at avoiding World War III.”

  “If we can convince the U.N. to back us,” Thaler grumbled.

  “I want an update on that next,” the president said, looking back at the screen. “Where the hell is Lewis?”

  “We’re working—” began Revellue.

  “I know, I know—you’re working on it,” the president said. He sighed. “Days like this make me question why I ever wanted to be a politician…”

  “I may have some good news, sir,” the Secretary of Defense said. He cleared his throat. “Some very good news.”

  “Oh?” asked the president. “I’m all ears, Sam. Lay it on me.”

  “Well,” the Secretary of Defense began, “we have some actionable intelligence on the whereabouts of Jayne Renolds.”

  “You’re shitting me,” the president breathed.

  “And the new pretender. She’s become his regent.”

  The president looked at Admiral Bennett. “What options do we have?”

  “We may never have this opportunity again, sir. I recommend we utilize drone strikes. It’s faster than anything except maybe a Tomahawk from one of our Atlantic fleet’s fast-attack boats,” Bennett replied.

  “Both of them, in one town?” asked Revellue.

  “In one location—a chateau to be exact, just south of Honfleur, France. It’s in Normandy,” replied Thaler.

  “She’s hiding right under Britain’s nose…” mused the president. “That bitch has got a pair of steel—”

  “The only issue is the king, sir. He’s a minor.”

  “What?” The president looked at his advisors. “The boy? Louis something-or-other?”

  “Affirmative, sir,” Admiral Bennett said, his lips pressed into a tight line. “Currently aged 16.”

  “Dammit all,” the president muttered, shaking his head. “How will it look if word gets out we killed a boy?”

  “Sir, Jayne Renolds is the main target here. We know he lives there, but begging your pardon, Mr. President, it’s a big damn house,” Admiral Bennett offered. “We shouldn’t squander this opportunity.”

  The president looked at the Secretary of Defense. “Sam?”

  The older man nodded. “I agree with Roger, sir. We can’t let her get away. It’s a shame the boy is there, but if she’s got her claws in him, we’ll be dealing with the same mess, fifteen years from now. It has to end somewhere.”

  “I don’t see the British having a problem with this. The boy’s in the wrong family—it happens,” Revellue added.

  “The press will eat me alive.”

  Revellue looked pensive. “We’re not 100% sure the boy’s even there, are we?”

  Admiral Bennett glanced at Secretary Thaler. “No, sir. There’s a high probability he is, but the actionable intelligence is strictly on Renolds. We know she’s there.”

  “How?” asked the president. He held up his hand. “You know what—never mind, I don’t want to know. Just do me a favor, Roger.”

  “Sir?”

  “Make this problem go away.”

  Bennett smiled. “With pleasure, sir.”

  28

  Hell on Earth

  In all his years as a SEAL, Cooper had never seen anything like it—and he’d been in some seriously fucked-up places. He’d seen the ravages of Ebola and a dozen other nasty African diseases, he’d stepped in to clean up the mess when warlords tried to take power and kill anyone who got in their way. He’d been to Tehran in The Aftermath and fought tooth and nail in the streets of the ancient Persian capital for survivors, for his country, for his teammates. He’d been to the worst cesspools, hellholes, and shitholes around the planet and seen the absolute worst that humanity could offer, but never had he seen anything like this.

  It was like every single person they met was angry beyond words—angry to the point that they’d be willing to tear his head off if they could only get a hold of him.

  Cooper supposed it would be the same if someone had announced that terrorists had killed the royal family or a school full of children and were running loose in their neighborhood. People would turn out in droves to find the criminals and attack with whatever they had on hand.

  But he hadn’t done anything to anyone. If anything, he had helped avenge the Royals who had fallen during the Council’s failed regime change. If anything, he mused, running uphill through the rain, they should be thanking him.

  He glanced over his shoulder. A half-dozen bloodied police officers, stumbling on the slick pavements and half-fighting with each other to be the first in line, charged up the hill behind him. They ignored the bodies of their fallen comrades; they ignored the blood on their uniforms and faces, and jumped right over the one Cooper had just shot.

  “What kind of goat fuck did I just walk into?” he muttered. He turned to his little group of survivors. “Go! Run! Get up the damn hill!” he said, slapping the senator on the back as the man ran by, dragging his hobbling chief of staff toward the castle, a little over a 100 yards away. Angus ran by at a full sprint, his eyes wide.

  “Don’t stop! Make sure they get to the castle!” Cooper called out before he turned t
o face the crazies.

  Cooper crouched at the sound of a gunshot. A round ricocheted off the stone building behind him. “I’ll try to slow them down again—go!”

  Angus paused. “They’ll tear you apart!” He shook his head, rain sloshing off his hair. “I don’t bloody know why, but—”

  Cooper ignored him and fired another shot at the incoming wave of bloodthirsty police officers. He clipped the first man in the knee, and he went down with a scream, tripping up the next two behind him. The three of them scrabbled on the ground, throwing punches and kicks and yelling muffled curses at each other in the rain.

  What the fuck is going on here?

  “Go!” Cooper said, shoving Angus out of his way. “That badge of yours might be the only thing that saves us when those guys in the castle see me shooting cops!” he screamed, pointing at the castle. I just hope to hell they’re not infected with whatever this is…

  More shots rang out down the street, and within a few seconds, it sounded like World War III had erupted. Gunfire rattled back and forth. Only the occasional round ricocheted off the ground or buildings near them, though.

  “They’re shooting each other,” Angus shouted.

  “Move!” Cooper yelled. Pain flared in his knee as his foot slipped off a cobblestone. He gritted his teeth and pushed through it. You’ll have to get another knee brace at this rate…

  Lightning flashed, and out of the gloom, the castle appeared just on the other side of what looked like a parade ground. Lights glowed from several of the windows in the structures beyond the massive stone walls.

  “Okay, we made it—” Angus began. One of the metal bleachers pinged as a round glanced off the slick aluminum seating.

  Tecumseh ducked, dragging Eli with him. “That was close!” he called over the sound of the storm.

  Cooper couldn’t agree more. “We’re too exposed! Hurry! Spread out and cross—we’ve got to get to the castle gate! Angus, you lead us!”

  A tremendous crash sounded behind and to their left. Cooper and Angus turned to see two people—a man and a woman—rolling in the street on broken glass. They’d jumped through a window. The man got to his feet first, kicking off the woman who shrieked and clawed at his leg. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, the man shrugged off her attacks and launched himself bodily at the first yellow-clad police officer who ran past him.

  The two of them went down in a heap, punching and kicking. The woman screamed again but was tackled by a second officer. He smashed his helmeted head into her face, dropping her like a brick. To Cooper’s amazement, the cop continued to pummel her face until both the skin of her face and his fists were blood red. He dropped the body to the ground as the other civilian threw a series of elbow strikes to the face of the officer he’d tackled.

  Cooper expected the victorious officer to turn and help his stricken brother, but instead, the man locked eyes on him, let out a bellow of rage, and sprinted for the parade ground.

  “This is beyond fucked,” Cooper said, raising his pistol and firing. The cop staggered, his right shoulder flung back, but caught his balance. Cooper fired another shot and the man’s knee buckled. He went down screaming on the ground, clawing and trying to drag his way toward Cooper, yelling curses and threats the entire time.

  “Come on!” Angus said, grabbing Cooper’s shoulder.

  By the time he’d caught up with the senator and his chief of staff, they’d already made it to the thick castle gate. He clumped across the little stone bridge that connected the parade ground to the castle proper and only spared a moment to glance at the glowering statues of Robert the Bruce and William Wallace, standing as silent sentinels next to the main portcullis.

  Thunder roared overhead and lightning crackled down the Royal Mile, illuminating the pandemonium. Figures rushed to and fro, tumbling in and fighting with each other. Gunshots rattled back and forth and muzzle flashes lit up like flares up and down the street as far as they could see into the gloom. And still, the rain poured down.

  “What the fuck is happening!” Eli screamed, clawing at the air with his hands. The man was trembling and shaking, had a wild-eyed look, and hardly seemed to notice the bloody rags tied tight around his leg any longer.

  “Oi! Let us in!” Angus screamed, pounding his fist on the heavy wooden door that blocked access to the castle’s gate.

  “They’re not opening…” Tecumseh mumbled.

  “No shit,” Cooper snapped. He ejected the magazine from his pistol and checked it. “Three shots left.” Cooper slammed the magazine back in place and racked the slide. He kept one wary eye on three cops who walked determinedly across the parade ground, heading straight for the gate.

  He didn’t think they could quite see them, hidden as they were in the shadow of the portcullis, but they definitely were heading toward the castle. He reached his hand into his pocket and came up with one extra magazine. There were way too many cops and civilians for him to be able to disable them all. Even with Angus’ handgun, which Cooper had serious doubts the Scot would be able to turn on his own people.

  “It’s like they’re all zombies or something,” Eli shouted.

  “Will you shut the fuck up?” Cooper snarled. “You ever see a zombie run and yell and get scared and fight like that?”

  “Aye, but zombies aren’t real mate,” Angus added.

  “Well, something sure as hell is going on out there,” Eli said, pointing across the parade ground. “Look!”

  “Eli,” the senator said in a calm voice. “Keep your voice down.”

  Angus pounded on the thick oak door behind them. “Oi! I said bloody open up!”

  A small panel slid back and a pair of eyes stared out the door. They were wide, white-rimmed eyes. “Get back! We don’t want to have to shoot you!”

  “Thank God!” Eli said, trying to shove Angus out of the way so he could talk. “Look, I’m the Chief of Staff for a United States Senator—”

  “Mate, I don’t care if you’re the bleeding president, this door is not opening.”

  “My name is Angus Campbell, I’m an senior inspector with Scotland Yard—”

  “Sorry, sir, but I’m under orders—”

  “If you don’t open that door, you’re going to have four dead bodies out here in a minute,” Cooper said over his shoulder. He raised his pistol and took aim at the first of the cops to approach them across the parade ground, perhaps 20 yards out. “I’m running low on ammo!” he warned.

  “You’re bloody shooting them?” the man on the other side of the door exclaimed.

  “He’s wounding them,” Angus said quickly. “We don’t have much of a choice—there’s something wrong with them—they’re fighting everyone and killing each other down there! What the hell happened?”

  “He can tell us after he opens the goddamn door!” Cooper shouted. “I’m not going to be able to wound them much longer…if you don’t want to see more cops get killed, then open the door, or I’m gonna have to start getting serious out here.”

  “Mate, please—I’m begging you, open this sodding door. We’re not infected. We were in the tunnels—”

  “We don’t even know what’s going on,” Tecumseh said, adding his calm voice to the discussion. “We came up out of the tunnels a short while ago and discovered this,” he said, sweeping his arm back to encompass the chaos of the parade ground. More cops were working their way toward the castle as civilians exited buildings and joined the general melee taking place on the Royal Mile.

  “My name is Denoyan Tecumseh and I’m a United States Senator. I’m here for the U.N. summit—if nothing else, my diplomatic immunity has got to count for something, right?” He dug in his pocket and produced an ID wallet, holding it up in the rain for the man on the other side of the door to examine.

  “For God’s sake man, let us in!” Angus pleaded.

  “I hate to interrupt, but they’re getting closer,” Cooper warned. He watched as one of the cops pointed at the gate and shouted. The other two looked at their
partner first, then sprinted for the gate. The third yelled something and tried to catch up. The sudden movement caught the eyes of several civilians tearing apart a cop at the entrance to the parade ground. They all yelled and chased the other three yellow-clad officers.

  In a matter of seconds, Cooper was looking at at least fifteen hostile foot mobiles, with more on their heels coming right at them. “Here comes the party, boys.”

  “Your sense of entertainment is a little odd,” the senator said over Cooper’s shoulder.

  Cooper snorted. He raised his pistol, gripped it in both hands and took aim at the first cop. “You got about five seconds to open that door before I start dropping these crazy fuckers.”

  Just as he was about to apply pressure to the trigger, Cooper heard the rattling of several heavy locks on the other side of the oak door. Rusted iron hinges squealed in protest and light flooded out from behind him.

  Shit. Now we’re silhouetted. A general roar went up from those advancing across the parade ground and now all of them sprinted toward the gatehouse.

  Cooper turned and ran full-on into Eli’s back, tumbling them both through the door. He looked up to see Tecumseh and Angus moving out of the way as an officer dressed in riot gear stepped forward and aimed a carbine over Cooper’s head, pulling the trigger and firing a three-round burst into the onrushing crowd. As the screams echoed, the door slammed shut, pushed by two other officers in riot-gear. Cooper saw the door was at least six inches thick. As they struggled to latch the ancient iron locks, Cooper heard bodies slamming into the gate and the door physically jumped each time.

  The man with the rifle turned and aimed at Cooper’s chest. “Drop the gun, Yank.”

  Well, fuck me sideways.

  Laying on his back, staring at the man leaning over him, holding a rifle pointed at him, Cooper’s training kicked into overdrive. He had a mission: protect the senator at all costs. And here before him, an armed man of unknown loyalty was pointing a weapon at him. He couldn’t turn his head to see what was going on with the senator, but he had to assume until he neutralized the threat in front of him, the senator’s life could be in jeopardy.