The Regent

by Marcus Richardson

  “I told you you’d regret crossing me,” the pudgy little man said with a smug look of satisfaction on his fleshly face.

  “I’ll kill you!” the soldier at the end of the hallway said, raising his rifle.

  Cooper’s eyes remained fixed on Eli’s face. The man’s sausage-like lips spread into a knowing smile. “For King and Council.” He forced the door closed.

  Cooper turned back to see the soldier raise the rifle to his shoulder and take aim.

  You gotta be kidding me.

  Cooper pushed from the wall and turned sideways, presenting as small a target as possible to the crazed gunman at the end of the hall. He didn’t have to wait long before the man pulled the trigger.

  Two loud shots blasted down the hallway and Cooper dropped, hoping to avoid any rounds aimed at his head. He felt something tug on his shoulder and lost his balance as he spun. A split second later, searing pain lanced down his arm like someone poured liquid fire on his bare skin.

  Over his own screams and the sound of the rifle, Cooper noticed something else—the man had stopped shooting. He caught himself against the wall and looked up to see the soldier still aiming the rifle and pulling the trigger to no effect. Cooper grinned.

  “Infected or not, no one shoots me and walks away, bub.”

  The soldier yelled and reversed his grip on the rifle, charging at Cooper, holding it like a club.

  “Bring it, asshole!” Cooper yelled. He took two steps forward and met the soldier mid-stride. He feinted a strike with the knife, which drew his attacker’s attention, then lashed out with his free hand, catching the man in the throat. He stepped sideways as the soldier crashed into the wall, already clawing at his throat, gasping for air.

  Cooper turned, ignoring his fallen opponent, and smirked at Eli’s door. “Time to teach you a lesson, Eli,” he called out, not caring if any other infected heard—there had been plenty of noise so far.

  “Oh yeah?” was the caustic reply from the other side of the abused door. “What lesson is that?”

  Cooper booted the door and it sailed inward with a cloud of dust and splinters. “Payback’s a bitch.”

  Eli shrieked and fell over a chair, landing on his ass, hands up in front of his face. “Oh, my God!”

  “He ain’t watchin’ right now, bub.” Cooper towered over the cowering double agent. “Get the fuck up.” When he didn’t move, Cooper took a deep breath.

  “Now!” he roared.

  Eli whimpered, but scrambled to his feet just the same. He pulled the baggy, bloody scrub bottoms up over his hips, sniveling like a scolded child. “Please…I’m not cut out for this stuff…I was just—”

  Cooper drove his fist into Eli’s expansive gut, doubling the older man over. “Not interested, you piece of shit. You almost got me killed.” He stepped around the senatorial chief of staff and ripped one of the still-warm sheets off the bed. Keeping an eye on the traitor, he used his knife to slice a long strip. “Turn around, you twatwaffler. Put your hands behind your back.”

  “Omigod, omigod, you’re gonna kill me…”

  “Will you shut the fuck up?” Cooper grabbed the pudgy hands and looped the sheet around his wrists, then doubled up between them to secure his prisoner. He cut another smaller strip, found a bloody washcloth on the floor and grabbed that too.

  “W-what are you doing?” Eli muttered.

  Cooper balled up the washcloth, stuffed it in the man’s mouth, then wrapped the smaller strip of sheet around his mouth and tied it tight. “Gagging your ass, that’s what. I don’t need you screaming for help while I drag you back to the senator.”

  Eli’s eyes went round, and he tried to say something, but it only came out as a mumble.

  “Yup, that too. Now let’s go. I promised I’d bring you back.” He checked his watch. “We got ten minutes to make it back to the chapel before they make a run for it.”

  Gunfire crackled outside the building. Close.

  Dammit.

  42

  To the Chapel

  Cooper pushed and cajoled Eli down the hall and toward the stairs. With every other step, the bound fat man struggled and tried to resist Cooper’s inexorable push forward.

  “Don’t piss me off, Eli. Walk.” When they got to the stairs, Eli tried to plant his feet and lean back. “Keep this shit up, and I’ll knock you upside the head and send your fat ass rolling down the stairs. So what’s it going to be? Walk or fly?”

  Eli’s shoulders slumped. He walked.

  The gunfire continued unabated outside, the sounds echoing outside the building and inside the hallway. Cooper winced.

  I don’t think I have enough time to get back now…

  At the door, he shoved Eli up against the wall, and kept him there with one arm while he peered out over the two dead guards at the doorstep.

  The way looked clear, but he spotted movement down the way he’d come toward Argyle Gate. Several cops sprinted from the gate to be shot down by some unseen opponent. Two others climbed over the wall next to the gate and started shooting inside.

  It was just the distraction he needed to make a break across the street. By now he knew the layout of the castle. If he could loop around behind St. Margaret’s Chapel and come up from the second level, he had a chance of slipping back to rejoin the others without being seen. Someone was still shooting the hell out of somebody else on the other side of the castle—he feared it was up by the Great Hall where he’d last seen Jayne.

  Either way, he had to leave and leave now. As he pulled away from the door, he caught sight of the display of ancient weaponry tacked up against the wall like a piece of art. Eighteenth-century cavalry were arrayed in a fan shape, surrounded by flintlock pistols and several small axes. He glanced at the brass plaque underneath the display. “A collection of relics from the French and Indian war. Québec, Canada Province, ca. 1759.”

  Not one to pass up free weapons, Cooper sheathed his knife, ripped free one of the small axes, which he then realized was a relic tomahawk. He put the still-sharp blade against Eli’s thick neck. “Now, we’re going to step out of here and make our way uphill. See that building over there to the right?” he asked, pointing with his free hand out the door. “That’s where we’re going. You walk like your ass depends on it—because it does. You walk fast, keep your head down and don’t stop moving. I don’t want to kill you,” Cooper said, leaning in close.

  “I want you to face justice. I had a chance with your old boss, and didn’t pull it off. But this time, I’m taking your ass in. Those guys with the guns out there and the infected? I don’t think they give two fucks about you. So if you want to live, you better do what I say and stick with me. Do we understand each other?”

  After the slightest hesitation, Eli nodded, his head wobbling on his neck.

  Cooper clapped his free hand on the man’s shoulder and turned him toward the door. “Good. Start walking.” As Eli stumbled down the steps, Cooper stooped and picked up one of the rifles from the soldier he’d killed.

  Cooper took a second to glanced down at the peaceful face. Not killed. Helped.

  He slung the strap over one shoulder, and slipped the tomahawk behind his belt. Feeling much more secure with the rifle, Cooper followed Eli as they ran across the street and sought cover behind the slab of rock that supported the next level of the castle’s structure. Cooper’s boots made hardly any sound as he slipped across the still-wet cobblestone road, in contrast to the loud slapping noises of Eli’s loafers.

  Halfway home…

  Cooper heard gunfire come from the direction of the chapel and ducked around the corner to see three armed men all in black, leveling AK-47s at the medieval church. The sharp barking weapons made Eli freeze in his tracks. They were at the far corner of the chapel. All they had to do was round the corner, make their way to the front and slip in the door—but that’s exactly where the men were blasting away.

  Cursing his luck, Cooper grinned when he heard several staccato pops return fire. One of the
men dropped his rifle and fell to his knees, clutching his throat. Bright red blood squirted between his hands as he fell face down on the ground. His two comrades split, one ran left one right, both of them still firing.

  The one from the left, keeping his eyes locked on the door, ran toward Cooper. He raised his own rifle, thumbed the safety and squeeze a three-round burst. The man stumbled to the ground just out of sight of his partner, his rifle skidding forward to rest at Eli’s feet. Cooper glanced down and saw his prisoner’s hands twitch against their improvised sheet manacles.

  “Don’t even think about it, fatso. I said I’d keep you alive; I didn’t say I’d keep you conscious.” He tapped Eli with the butt of his rifle just enough to get his message across, and the older man whimpered again and cowered against the wall.

  Cooper pushed his captive forward, using him as a shield until they reach the front corner of the chapel. Gunfire seemed to erupt all around them, echoing off the stone buildings and walls of the castle. Wherever the other shooters were, they were close. Cooper’s instincts told him if he wanted to stay alive, he needed to make a break for it and scale the wall directly ahead of him. It would mean slipping past the big cannon parked in front of the chapel, down the hill again over to the dog cemetery and scale the far castle wall. But he’d lose Eli in the process, and would have to abandon 13 and the senator to their fates.

  Cooper clenched his jaw. That wasn’t the SEAL way. That wasn’t his way. He wouldn’t leave a man behind.

  He took a quick check around the corner and found the last remaining shooter hiding behind the giant medieval cannon, Mons Meg. Now and then, he popped up jihadi-style, firing his rifle blindly from behind cover. Cooper ducked around the corner as a stray round chipped the rock inches from his face.

  “Fuck that was close,” he muttered.

  “Come on, you pussy!” 13’s mocking voice called out. “I know you’re out there!”

  “Hey, it’s me, Cooper. I’m right around the corner, 9 o’clock of the door. If you can drive them out, I can take the shot.”

  “You have Eli?” she whispered back. Then, in a loud voice, “What’s the matter, ladies? You scared?”

  “He’s with me, but it’s complicated,” Cooper replied quietly. “Just get the shooter to stand up or something…”

  “I’ve already radioed it in, you’re going to be surrounded any minute…you may as well give up!” the shooter called from behind the safe, iron body of Mons Meg.

  Before Cooper could whisper anything else, 13 called out again. “Fine!” A slender white hand appeared out the open doorway, holding his pistol by the trigger guard between thumb and forefinger.

  “We give up!” she called out.

  The ruse wasn’t working. The shooter was still hidden behind the cannon. Cooper was positive the man was telling the truth. The gunfire coming from behind him up toward the top of the castle had slacked off. He could well imagine six or seven men beating feet to encircle the little chapel.

  “You have the senator with you?” the shooter called out, still frustratingly hidden.

  “Yes! But he’s hurt! He needs medical attention!”

  “Drop the gun!”

  Without hesitating, 13 let go of the gun and it clattered to the wooden walkway at the entrance to the chapel.

  The shooter stood.

  “Finally.” Cooper squeezed the trigger and one sharp shot rang out. A small dot appeared on the shooter’s forehead and he dropped from sight, his rifle clattering to the ground. Without checking to make sure his target was dead, Cooper grabbed Eli’s collar and whirled him around the corner, shoving him in through the open door. He kicked his discarded pistol through the door, followed his prisoner in, and barely cleared the threshold before 13 slammed the door shut and Senator Tecumseh dropped the bench back into place to lock them in.

  “Eli!” the senator called out. “What the hell happened? Why is he tied up?”

  Cooper marched Eli over to the first available bench and shoved him until the man stumbled and fell down hard on his ass. He glared up over the top of the makeshift gag, his eyes shooting daggers.

  “Because this fucker tried to kill me. Last thing he did before shoving me into the line of fire of one of the infected was to say ‘For King and Council.’”

  13 regarded Eli with a calm look, but didn’t seem surprised.

  “Eli!” Tecumseh said, completely shocked. “How…is this true? I trusted you!”

  Eli narrowed his eyes at the senator, and Cooper was sure if he didn’t have a gag in his mouth, he would’ve said something unpleasant.

  Cooper watched 13’s face. She squatted in front of the Council operative.

  “How long have you known?” Cooper asked. He took a knee next to her, slightly wincing as it popped. “And why the fuck didn’t you tell me when we were in the tunnels?”

  “I wasn’t 100% sure…but I had my suspicions…”

  “In the future, tell me your suspicions…I like suspicions.”

  13 looked at him and flashed a smile, then stood. “We don’t have time to deal with this; we’ve got to get going—this place is going to be crawling with Jayne’s reinforcements any minute.” She picked up Cooper’s pistol from the floor and racked the slide back.

  “Wait! You can’t do that!” the senator complained.

  Cooper reached out and placed a hand on her hand, lowering the pistol. “You did that with Reginald…but not this time. He needs to face justice.”

  13 looked at them, and her expression softened. She sighed, then nodded. As she opened her mouth, the far wall of the church behind the altar exploded.

  43

  Unfair Fight

  Danika coughed, then blinked in the smoke and dust that obscured her vision. What the hell had happened, she wasn’t sure. She remembered a flash of light, then the feeling of someone hitting her from behind, right in the kidneys. Her ribcage vibrated and then everything went black. But before she passed out, she felt a tremendous heat.

  Every joint in her body ached. It felt like she’d been hit by a truck. Twice.

  Voices. She heard voices. Distant and muffled, they sounded like they were calling to her from a dream.

  “…over here…cover me…”

  At once, Danika’s instincts took over. She felt the pull of the rage in her system, thrumming like a cord stretched tight, pulling at her, urging her to get up, move, strike out, attack. Kill.

  She opened her eyes again and felt the weight of unyielding stone, lots of it, pressing down on her body. The wall—it had collapsed. An explosion?

  She didn’t have time to dwell on what had happened. A silhouette appeared in the enormous hole in the back wall of the chapel. The altar was nowhere to be seen. The man turned to present his profile, and she saw he carried a rifle. Her fingers scrabbled through the dust and pebbles and broken rocks until they found the smooth, cold form of her pistol.

  Moving as little as possible, she gripped the weapon and waited, feigning unconsciousness.

  “Anything?” asked a rough voice.

  “Negative,” said another, much closer. She heard him crunch through the debris, taking careful, measured steps. “Looks like a bomb went off in here,” he muttered, unable to hide the smile from his voice.

  A ragged laugh erupted outside. “Hurry up, she’s coming.”

  “She’s here,” Danika said, smiling as she raised her pistol. One squeeze of the trigger and the man went down screaming. The sound of her pistol was distant but loud—it alerted the second man outside that someone wasn’t ready to give up. He yelled for backup and fired into the chapel.

  As rounds ricocheted and whined off the rocks and debris, Danika rolled to her side, took aim and fired three more shots, forcing the shooter outside to take cover. It gave her enough time to get up and collapse against the far wall. She turned to look back in the chapel and froze. The blast had obliterated the altar and the three benches they had dragged toward the front. The senator was in a heap near the door
at the far end of the building and Braaten was nowhere to be seen, but there was a suspiciously large pile of rubble opposite the hole in the wall.

  “Cooper!” she yelled. She couldn’t explain why she felt more worried about the SEAL rather than Tecumseh, but there it was. Incoming rounds silenced her next shout, but she didn’t gain release from the grip of fear until the rubble pile stirred and Braaten’s dust-covered head emerged with a look rather like a blinking newborn emerging from the womb. She watched him mouth the words, “What the fuck…” and smiled.

  His eyes met hers and then he was awake and back in the fight. He rose from the rubble like a ghost, completely coated in white dust. The whitewashed wall of the little chapel had been vaporized—much of it still hung suspended in the air as a fine ash cloud.

  “Senator!” she yelled. “Senator Tecumseh! Can you hear me?”

  More gunfire outside drew her attention away from the far end of the chapel. She and Braaten had to deal with the immediate threat first.

  He stumbled forward to take position opposite her on the far side of the hole, occasionally firing his pistol into the men outside. “Well, this is fun.”

  She laughed. “You know how to show a girl a good time.”

  The crooked grin she received in return made her belly warm. A bullet blew a chunk of rock into her cheek and she turned away, cursing at the sting.

  Braaten fired back and the scream of pain from outside told her she’d been avenged.

  “He alive?” yelled Braaten, jerking his head toward Tecumseh.

  “I don’t know!” she shouted over the gunfire. Spent casings pinged and bounced off the rubble at her feet. She was running out of ammo. When her slide locked back, she ducked behind the wall, dropped the mag and slapped a fresh one—her last—in place and released the slide. “Last mag!”