Threat Ascendant

by Brian M. Switzer

  He scanned the group, making eye contact where he could. They were mostly men with only a handful of women mixed in. Many of them were injured, although their traumas didn’t appear grievous. A few glared back at him in defiance when he looked at them; most, though, either looked away or gazed back with sad and worried expressions.

  Willa wore a thin sweater with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows and a baseball cap with a ponytail sticking through the hole in the back. To his surprise, she wasn't smoking; it was the only time he could remember seeing her without a cigarette. As he and Jiri approached, one of her lieutenants, a lanky Original named Stephen, whispered in her ear. She nodded, browsed a clipboard she carried, and whispered something back. Stephen gave them a head bob as he passed, hurrying toward the exit.

  "How goes it, Willa," he greeted her.

  "William!" To his surprise, she leaned up and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "The professor!" She gave Jiri a kiss of his own and squeezed his biceps. "If you guys see Terrence, tell that good-looking black bastard I owe him a blowjob. You three saved a lot of lives today."

  Jiri gave her a self-effacing shrug. "I don't know about that. All we did was put together a plan- you folks carried it out."

  "Bullshit!" she said in a cheerful voice. "If you guys had war planned for Hitler we'd be speaking German right now."

  Will smiled, uplifted as always by her exuberant attitude and profane manner. "Forget Mr. Aw-Shucks-It-Was-Nothing, here. I'll take all the credit you want to give me."

  She awarded him with a lascivious grin. "Are you sure? Because I can give a lot of credit. I can give credit all night long."

  "Hush," Will laughed. "If Becky heard you she'd shoot us both." He draped an arm over her shoulder and hugged her to his side for a moment, then grew serious. "So- what do you have here?"

  "The men and ladies that threw down their weapons and surrendered. There are 168 of them."

  Will scanned the morose-looking group again. "What's their attitude?"

  "Morose. They’re like a bunch of folks who are pretty sure they have herpes and are just waiting to get the test results back."

  Jiri made a derisive snort. "They should be sad," he said in a loud voice. "They made a stupid decision then got their asses kicked despite having a ten-to-one advantage."

  Willa gave him a crooked grin. "I understand the sentiment, big fella. But if you ask, or if you hang around in here with your ears to the ground, the consensus is their choice was fight or die."

  Will studied the prisoners. "For now, make sure they have plenty of water and as much food as we can spare." Will jerked a thumb at them. "Is this everybody?"

  Willa shook her head. "Shit, no. There are another hundred and twenty-five, hundred and fifty in triage over at the Doc's office. Plus, Her Majesty and three of her most loyal subjects are in the jail."

  Jiri snickered. "Did you talk to the Queen?"

  "Oh yeah. Let me tell you, she's a piece of work. Wait till you hear her defense."

  A prisoner pushed himself to his feet and approached the trio, his hands high in the air. He wore the all-black uniform of the attackers, had long, stringy hair, and needed a shave. Three guards walked with him, maintaining their distance and training their rifles on him. A gash on his forehead had bled profusely, but the wound was drying and the blood had slowed to a trickle. He ignored the guards, Will, and Jiri, fixing his attention on Willa.

  She watched him approach and held out an imperious hand when he was ten feet away. "That's close enough. What do you need?"

  "Ma'am, I hate to keep harping on the same point, but I am in serious need of some medical attention. This cut needs stitches and I’m sure I have a concussion."

  "Listen, asshole; I'm telling you for the third time. There’s no treatment for a concussion- if you have one, sleep is the best thing you can do for it. As for your boo-boo, once our doctor has treated all of our people that need it he'll start on yours. He'll work on the worst cases first, which will leave you fighting two guys with hangnails to see who's the last one treated.

  "If you don't like those rules, you shouldn't have joined in and attacked a community that had done nothing to you. If you pester me about this again, I’ll order you shot and leave your body for the dogs. Understand?"

  The wounded man's shoulders slumped and he nodded, then turned and plodded back to his place in the circle.

  Will gave her an appreciative look. "You don't play."

  "Fucking-A right I don't. What sort of dummy takes part in an unprovoked attack then wants hugs and kisses when it goes sideways?"

  Will pointed at the stringy-haired man. "That sort of dummy, I guess." He clapped his hands together and blew out a breath. "Okay- do you have enough guards to rotate them out on a regular basis?"

  Willa nodded.

  "Good. We’ll resolve this situation in a day or two, because I don't want to feed these guys any longer than necessary. Keep an eye on your guards. I don't want the prisoners abused or mistreated. If you've got a guy that can't ignore his emotions and treat them humanely, get him out of here. If any problems arise or you need anything at all, radio me. I'll be here in a jiffy."

  Willa shot him a thumbs up. "Good to know this won’t go on too long. I'm dying for a smoke, but if I light up in front of these sad sacks, they all clamor to bum one off me.”

  "The last thing I want to do is stand between you and your cigarettes. As I said, it will be over soon." He turned to Jiri. "What do you say, Professor? Wanna go meet the Queen?"

  Jiri placed a hand over his heart. "Do I?! I've been looking forward to this since I watched her drive in this morning."

  Will motioned toward the exit. "Let's go."

  Willa called out to them as they walked away. "Hold on to your ass cheeks, boys. She will eat you alive if you don't."

  64

  * * *

  They had to pick through the triage zone outside the Doc's office to get to the jail. Observing the long lines of injured and dying men and women brought to the forefront how deadly and unnecessary the attack was.

  They stepped around the mass of broken and bruised attackers and made their way to the double doors of Terrence's office. The lanky peace officer sprawled behind his desk, reading a battered paperback. A poorly wrapped bandage covered his right forearm, the result of a burn he received when he mishandled the grenade launcher. Not wanting to wait in line to see the Doc, he slathered it with Neosporin and wrapped it himself. Ragged strings of medical tape hung from the bandage on both ends as his first aid efforts unraveled.

  Three jail cells lined in a row behind and to the left of the desk. The nearest one sat empty, the middle held Kayla, and five of the attackers in blue were crammed in the far cell. Will surmised the uniform color indicated they were a special guard or fighting unit.

  Kayla's clothes were dirty; her hair was stringy and tousled and dotted throughout with wisps of limestone dust. But even bedraggled and dirty, there was no mistaking her beauty or the magnificence of her figure. Even in defeat, she carried herself with an air of haughty superiority and regal bearing.

  As they appraised the prisoners a man in the far cell stepped up to the bars. He was stocky with broad features and close-cropped blonde hair. He wrapped both hands around the cell bars and spoke in an angry and demanding tone. "What right do you have to cage the sovereign leader of this land? I demand you release her Royal Majesty Queen Kayla Wiegle and her Queen’s guard this instant! She is the rightful authority over this land and she speaks the will of God. Release her now, get on your knees, and beg for mercy, and she may forgive you for your treason and crimes against the crown and grant you a quick and merciful death. All hail the rightful-"

  Will drew his Beretta and fired one shot, hitting the ranting guard above his right eyebrow. The man teetered and pitched forward, striking the bars with his face and hitting the floor with a splat. His cellmates bellowed in surprise and indignation and rushed to the back of the
cage.

  Kayla jumped at the sound of gunfire and raised her hand to her mouth for a moment as her man fell, but in a flash she resumed the air of bored monarch and regarded Will with a glittery smile.

  He surveyed the men still upright. "Does anyone else have any demands?"

  They glowered at him with angry faces and hate in their eyes, but no one spoke.

  "Good. Terrence, would you pull Her Highness out of her cell and zip tie her hands in front, please? We’re borrowing her for a bit."

  The peace officer crossed over to the cells, picking through a ring of keys as he walked. "I will pull her out, but I don't think walking her past all those injured soldiers out front is a good idea." He inserted a key into the lock and spoke to the prisoner. "Please step to the back, ma'am." As she moved, he returned to his conversation with Will. "Why don't you use one of the interrogation rooms, instead."

  "That sounds like a great idea." He peeked around Terrence's to make eye contact with Kayla. "How about it, ma'am? Would your subjects attack us, wounds and all, if we paraded you past them with your hands tied?"

  Jiri leaned over the peace officer's other shoulder and glared at her. "Or would they attack you for sending them on a suicide mission?"

  She didn't respond. She kept her chin up and her shoulders square and her smile never wavered as Terrence tied her wrists together. He took her by the arm and led her out of the cell, past the front desk, and down a short hallway. He stopped at the last door, opened it, and guided her inside. The room was almost a small as the jail cells. A cheap, rectangular table with a fake wood top took up the center; two folding chairs sat on either side. An easy chair loomed in the far corner, next to a small, empty bookcase. He sat her in a chair near the wall and turned to face Will. "If you don't mind, I'm going back up front. I need to keep an eye on the yahoos."

  Will dipped his chin. "No problem, buddy. Get on the radio to Danny and Coy- have them come and take care of that body."

  Terrence left, closing the door behind him. Will and Jiri took the seats on the opposite side of Kayla. She gazed at them, the wry little smile never faltering.

  Will met her gaze and drummed the tabletop with his fingers. "Ma'am, my name is Will Crandall, and he’s Jiri Hvorsky.”

  She looked them square in the eye and spoke in a honeyed and cultured voice. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

  Jiri couldn’t hide his sneer. "I bet you didn't expect to meet us under these conditions- you with your hands cuffed and us asking the questions."

  Kayla tilted her head and laughed- a soft, tinkling sound. "My, you are a tall drink of water, Mr. Hvorsky. Actually, Gentlemen, I intended we not meet at all. That's what you're amazing specimen of a boy was to arrange, Mr. Crandall. That's why we didn’t have a battle plan and why we didn't attack first thing upon our arrival. We expected to find no one here. When we found that wasn't the case, we tried to determine a way to retreat without putting our soldiers at risk. But before we could put a plan together, you closed off the only avenue of escape and attacked forces that weren't prepared or trained to fight with vastly superior firepower. And you gentlemen and I ended up here."

  Jiri gaped at her, speechless, but Will gave her a tight-lipped smile and shook his head. "That's good… damned good. I don't know if you thought of it as you sat your cell, or if you are so sick and twisted that you can pop out something like that off the top of your head. But it's not gonna work, and do you know why?"

  Kayla watched him and smiled, but said nothing.

  "It won't work because there's no one to sell it to. There are no media to take your nonsense and broadcast it to a susceptible audience and no judge and jury to hear your case. No sympathetic audience that's begging for a good reason to take your side. There's just Jiri and me, and the friends and relatives of the people killed in the attack."

  Cool and collected, she waited for him to finish. "That's all well and good. It doesn't change the fact that I am your sovereign Queen. I stepped on land in my own Queendom and you attacked me. Fortunately for you, I'm not in a powerful enough position to respond and punish you. Let me return to my home and I will forgive your treason and the murders you committed here today."

  Jiri poked Will in the thigh to keep him from replying. "And what are our responsibilities going forward, in terms of your Queendom? Do you see us as vassals, subjects, or a separate and independent sovereign state within your lands?"

  "No!" Will slapped the tabletop with a bang. "Don't feed her psychosis, or play along with her stupid game, at least not on my time." He leveled a finger in Kayla's direction. "The only reason for what happened is you're a murderous psycho. You grew cocky and you let your arrogance run away with you, and you got smacked down for it. You led your people to slaughter and you are responsible for the deaths of our people. You will answer for that."

  Kayla looked at him coolly, unperturbed by his words. "Do you intend to punish me, then?"

  Will held his hands out in front of him. "That's not my decision."

  This time Kayla's laugh was a schoolgirl's giggle. "Oh yes, you have a Council for these decisions. Will I be allowed to address the Council?"

  "Lady, if it was up to me you would sit in that cell until somebody came in and shot you in the head." He stood, and Jiri did the same. "But it's not up to me. So I'll let you know what happens next. Sit tight and Terrence will come get you in a minute."

  Kayla bobbed her head then met Will's eye. "I look forward to our next meeting." She shot Jiri an exaggerated wink. "And you, big boy; you can come see me anytime." She gave him a seductive smile, then turned from them.

  Will led the Professor out of the room and down the hall. Terrence rose as they approached. "She’s ready for you," Will told him. He turned to Jiri. "Man, Willa called that one right, didn't she?"

  65

  * * *

  Jiri and Will checked in at the medical center, the teams tasked with clearing and sprucing up the bottom, and the tunnel-dwellers battling the creeper onslaught up top.

  Tara summed up the problems at hand in the makeshift triage zone and three-room hospital that was Doc Joseph’s office suite in normal times. "The Doc is exhausted. Check that- we are all exhausted, but he’s old and has the hardest job. He's been at this for sixteen straight hours; I don't know how much he has left. And, we have a limited stockpile on some of his supplies. We're almost out of morphine, we are out of blood and plasma; the patients we lose are almost all due to blood loss. He's running low on gauze, alcohol, and patience, to be honest. Somebody needs to decide how many of our supplies we are willing to use on the people that attacked us."

  Will scanned the broken and bleeding bodies waiting for care in neat rows of ten and realized he didn’t recognize any of them. “How many of our folks still need care?”

  She walked him to a little group of familiar faces- four Originals huddled together in a circle. “These four still need to be seen. All of them have non-life-threatening bullet wounds. We alternate caring for them and the worst of the attackers, the ones closest to dying."

  “Let’s do this. Fix up these folks. Then take a break. Take a nap, get something to eat… I’ll put guards in here and you guys do some self-care for a few hours. I'll send a crew out for as many medical supplies as they can find. I’m talking gauze and band-aids; I can’t help with blood and plasma.” He took her by the arm and guided her to a spot away from everyone. He studied her for several long moments, his expression somber. While the doc is treating those four, set aside the attackers who are not likely to make it. While you guys rest, a team will take them somewhere quiet and let them die in peace."

  Tara didn’t reply; her eyes searched his face as the silence stretched out between them.

  He shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. “Hey, it’s your choice. Use up the few supplies you have left on people who attacked us and will die, anyway… or save them for
when we need them and avoid several hours of fruitless work.” He peered down at her, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “If they had stayed home they wouldn’t be in this situation."

  She smirked and held her hand up for a fist bump. "Fuckin’-A."

  With the situation at the Doc’s in-hand, he and Jiri headed up the hill to the entrance, where Danny directed a team defending the quarry from the throngs of dead attracted by the sounds and smells of the battle. Will’s number two had four archers positioned in each guard tower plus a twelve-man perimeter protecting the grounds around the entrance.

  They stacked the dead in rows of ten beside the north tower. When Will and Jiri stopped by, downed creepers filled three full rows and half of a fourth. Will elbowed Jiri and pointed at the growing pile. "It looks like cordwood," he commented.

  After a short visit with the workers up top, the duo headed back down the hill. Will stretched and yawned and tried to ignore his bone-aching weariness. He cleared his throat to get Jiri's attention. "What's next?"

  "We need to see how the repairs are coming, and what equipment and vehicles are so shot to shit we have to replace them. After that, we'll call on the family and friends of the folks we lost and the badly wounded."

  "You know how to spin me into a flat ruined day, don't you, you tall son of a bitch?"

  "Hey now, I could give you an answer that’s even worse."

  "How's that?"

  "I could have said it was time to go talk to the Queen again."

  Will was quiet for half a dozen paces, then he nodded his head. "Yeah, that would be worse."

  66

  * * *

  But it was two days before he sat with Kayla again, and before he did, Will showed off his best ‘murderous thug’ impersonation. It took place in front of the throng of invaders who threw down their weapons and surrendered. There were 188 fighters clustered under Willa's watchful eye, plus another twenty-two recovering in the Doc's makeshift infirmary. He had all 210 of them gathered together in a wide spot in the tunnel outside the Doc’s offices. They were overwhelmingly men- according to Willa, there were only twelve women in the group.