On Her Majesty's Behalf

by Joseph Nassise

  That’s when all hell broke loose. The shredders didn’t hesitate; they came charging forward with the relentlessness of the tide, spilling through the gate and across the lawn toward Burke and his small company.

  Burke brought his Tommy gun up, his finger already pulling back the trigger, only to have the weapon cough out a few shots and then fall silent. Thinking it had jammed, he hauled back on the charging handle, only to find an empty chamber; he was out of ammunition!

  He tried not to think of how quickly the shredders were closing on them as he hit the release, dropped the empty drum magazine to his feet, and jammed another in its place, noting that it was his last.

  As the others continued to fire, holding the shredders at bay, Burke used the moment it gave him to look around. More shredders were closing in from the front now, as well as the side. Not seeing any way forward and worried that the shredders would get around behind them and cut them off, he was about to order them all back inside when the sound of a racing engine reached his ears.

  He looked forward, over the heads of the oncoming shredders, and watched in surprise as the black iron grille of a truck came into view through the front gates of the hospital complex. The engine was whining, sounding as if it were being pushed too hard, but the driver didn’t let up; if anything, he pushed it even harder.

  Burke glanced away long enough to put a bullet through the skull of a shredder that was trying to flank Captain Morrison while he was otherwise engaged with another of its ilk, and then he looked back in time to see the truck smash through the gate without stopping.

  Iron fencing crashed to the ground, pinning several shredders beneath it as the truck roared over them, leaving still corpses in its wake.

  Due to the afternoon sun reflecting off the glass, Burke couldn’t see who was inside and a sudden surge of fear washed over him as it occurred to him that this might not be help at all.

  What if it was that German special ops team Colonel Nichols had mentioned?

  Thankfully, he didn’t have to find out, for even as the truck raced toward them, someone clambered out the passenger-­side window, raised a rifle to his shoulder, and began shooting the shredders that were drawing too close to Burke and his group.

  The unerring accuracy of the shots brought a smile to Burke’s face; he knew only one man who could shoot like that, never mind doing so from the front of a speeding vehicle.

  Corporal Jones.

  The noise of the truck caught the attention of the shredders, and several of them paused in their headlong rush toward Burke and company to look back at the oncoming vehicle. Jones took them out like ducks in a shooting gallery.

  The driver swerved to deliberately run down three shredders on the edge of the road and then bounced over the curb into the flower garden forming the centerpiece of the circular drive. Earth and flowers went every which way as the churning tires tossed them aside, and then the truck was bouncing over the curb and slewing to a stop in front of Burke and his bewildered crew.

  Jones looked down from his perch on the passenger door with a grin.

  “Need a lift, Major?”

  For once, Burke didn’t find the need to yell at him for disobeying an order. “Don’t mind if we do, Corporal,” he said with a grin of his own.

  The canvas flap in the back was thrust aside as Cohen and Montagna made an appearance, adding their firepower to that of Sergeant Drummond and Captain Morrison and making short work of the closest shredders. Graves, meanwhile, was leaning out the back, extending a courteous hand to the Queen and helping her up into the rear of the vehicle. As soon as she was situated, Burke gave the order to retreat, and the rest of the squad turned away from the fight and scrambled into the back. They’d barely settled into place before Williams put the pedal to the metal and got them the hell out of there as fast as the truck would go.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  En Route to the RELIANT

  London

  HAVING SEEN THE photographs detailing what had happened to Brigadier Calhoun’s column when he’d brought motorized vehicles into the city, Burke was understandably worried about their use of the vehicle salvaged by Corporal Williams. He knew the trip back to the Thames was a short one, however, and decided that getting the Queen to the Reliant as quickly as possible was worth the risk of attracting shredders with the engine noise.

  Besides, after spending an entire day in the city, he was starting to think the vast majority of shredders had headed elsewhere the minute the easy food supply had grown scarce. With all the ­people living in the city limits at the time of the initial gas attack, he would have expected there to be massive hordes of the creatures roaming the streets. Instead, they’d only encountered a few individual creatures here or there or, when they did run into a larger group, it was as a result of a living survivor having attracted them to that locale.

  Lieutenant Colonel Ellington’s words came back to him. We have the perimeter secured and the threat contained. Now, more than ever, Burke believed that to be untrue and he wondered just where the hell the shredders had gone if they were no longer in the city.

  At least, not the part of the city they’d seen so far.

  As Williams drove, Major Burke had Cohen fill him in on how they came to be riding in a salvaged lorry in the first place.

  “Corporal Jones had us scout the area around our position, which is how we came across the truck,” Cohen told him. “It was parked just up the street and, miraculously, hadn’t suffered any damage during the bombardment or in the days thereafter. Figuring you might have need of a quick escape, Jones, Montagna, and I pushed it back to our position, at which point Corporal Williams had a go at the engine. Didn’t take him long to get the thing running at all!”

  No, I don’t suspect it did, Burke thought. Williams, as well as knowing his way around explosive devices, was a genius with anything mechanical. He probably could have gotten the truck started even if half the engine had been missing.

  Jones and Williams were a formidable team, it seemed, and Burke made note to put them both in for a medal when they returned. Without a doubt, the truck had saved the Queen’s life and that, at the very least, deserved some notice.

  Satisfied that things were well in hand, Burke shot a glance in Veronica’s direction. She sat between Captain Morrison and Dr. Graves, her head back against the canvas side of the truck and her eyes closed. A dark smudge ran across one smooth cheek—­Gunpowder? Grease? he wondered.

  She must have felt his scrutiny at that point, for her head came forward and she opened her eyes, catching his gaze with her own and smiling slightly.

  Burke felt the jolt of her stare right down to the base of his bones, so strong and so unsettling that he had to turn away. It had been many years since a woman had affected him in such a way and to experience those feelings here, amid the ruins of a once-­great city, with a member of the British royalty no less, felt completely surreal. He had no idea what to do with those feelings and so he did what man, from time immemorial, had been doing in such situations.

  He ignored them.

  To get his mind off Veronica, he got up and made his way forward, squatting down just behind the two front seats so that he could talk to the driver, Williams, and look through the windshield at the same time. He could see Westminster Bridge, with the skeleton of Big Ben looming over it, coming up ahead of them.

  “How are we doing, Corporal?”

  “Good, sir,” Williams replied. “Another five minutes or so should bring us back to where we left the boat.”

  “Excellent. Any sign of gathering shredders?”

  This time it was Jones who answered from his overwatch position in the passenger seat. “None. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they’ve all flown the coop, Major.”

  They arrived at the point where they’d beached their boat just a few hours earlier, parked the truck, and cautiously c
limbed down, looking about. The riverbank seemed deserted and the noise of their truck didn’t appear to bring any shredders out of the woodwork, for which Burke was thankful.

  Shielding his eyes against the afternoon glare, he looked out across the water, to where the Reliant was anchored.

  He could see several figures moving about on the deck of the Reliant, and more than one appeared to be wearing the characteristic uniform of a British sailor, but something about them just didn’t seem right.

  It took him only another moment to focus in on the quick, jerky nature to their movements to realize what he was looking at.

  Shredders.

  Burke didn’t know how it had happened, but somehow, the sub had been lost.

  He stared across the water in shock, his thoughts a chaotic mess.

  What the hell were they going to do now?

  That boat had been their lifeline, their transportation home, and without it they were now in serious danger. Everything they needed was aboard that vessel, from fresh food and water to the communication equipment necessary to report back to headquarters. Hell, they couldn’t even let anyone know they’d rescued the Queen, never mind set up an alternate plan for getting her out of London without that boat!

  Beside him, Jones raised his Enfield, intending to take out the shredders on the deck of the boat. Burke reached out and pushed the barrel of the man’s weapon down before he could fire.

  “Save the ammo,” he told Jones. “We’re going to need it.”

  Ammo and a hell of a lot of other things, including food and water, before this was over. Thank God they’d taken the time to replenish their supplies before going to Bedlam.

  He didn’t notice the Queen standing at his elbow until she spoke up.

  “I take it there’s been a change of plans, Major?”

  He nodded, gestured across the water to where the Reliant was bobbing gently with the tide. “Shredders have taken the Reliant.”

  She glanced that way and then back at Burke. “Can you and your men take it back?”

  “Yes,” he told her and it was the truth. He didn’t relish the idea of fighting in those close quarters, but it could be done. There was no sense in doing so, however. “Yes, we could take it back, but doing so won’t help. None of my men are sailors; we’d never get out of the Thames, never mind back across the English Channel with what little we know. We’d be lucky if we didn’t drown in the first five minutes.”

  He wouldn’t say it to the Queen, but they were pretty much fucked. He stared at the shredders lurching about on the deck of the Reliant and, not for the last time, found himself cursing their very existence.

  He had no idea what they were going to do next.

  Veronica, however, wasn’t at such a loss.

  “There’s a wireless set at the museum.”

  Burke blinked, then slowly turned to face her, not certain that he had heard correctly.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “There’s a wireless set at the British Museum. We can use it to let your ­people know what’s happened and arrange for some other means of rescue.”

  The British Museum. Where she’d wanted to go in the first place.

  She was persistent, he had to give her that, but her suggestion also made sense, Burke thought. The wireless would be invaluable, both in bringing Colonel Nichols up to speed on the latest developments as well as allowing them to consider options open to them to get the Queen out of London safe and sound.

  He glanced at the chronometer on his wrist and noted that there were still several hours before nightfall. They had plenty of time to make the trip, even if they were to do so on foot. He knew the men must be feeling the same sense of hopeless despair at the loss of the sub, knowing just as he did that the boat had been their ticket home. He needed to keep them occupied, keep their minds off the ugliness of their situation. Sure, they were effectively marooned in the midst of the city, surrounded by legions of the undead, but they didn’t need to worry about that, did they? No, that was his job. The museum would give them a target and a focus, both of which were in high demand right now.

  Besides, he thought, they were going to need a place to hole up for the night. Someplace they could reasonably defend with a group their size. There had to be an office or an exhibit hall inside the museum that fit the bill.

  Burke was nodding to himself as he turned to the Queen and smiled.

  “All right, Your Majesty, the British Museum it is.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The British Museum

  London

  BURKE MADE THE decision to stick with the truck, if for no other reason than it allowed them to make the two-­kilometer trip to the museum in less than fifteen minutes. They crossed the Westminster Bridge and then turned north, passing through Leicester Square and the western edge of Covent Garden in order to reach the area around Bloomsbury Street where the museum was located.

  Given how close the museum was to the British seat of government, Burke was surprised to find that it had survived the bombing campaign intact. As there weren’t any shredders in sight—­they had, in fact, seen very few during their short drive—­they parked the truck out front, slipped between the massive stone pillars that formed the central colonnade leading to the building’s entrance and walked inside right through the front doors.

  Amazingly, the lights were still on inside, their soft glow illuminating the entryway and seeming to lead them forward, deeper into the building.

  Seeing Burke’s surprise at the lights, Veronica told him, “The museum has its own internal energy supply that provides constant power to the facility, day and night.”

  And on such was the British Empire built, Burke thought.

  Just past the foyer they entered what was known as the Great Court, a massive square-­shaped room that served as the gateway to the rest of the museum. The entrances to the gallery areas on either side of the room had been constructed to look like ornate Greek temples, giant columns and all, and rising in the center of the court was an enormous circular room two stories high that functioned as a combination library and reading area.

  Burke sent Jones and Williams up the steps to check the room above while the rest of the squad fanned out through the court, verifying that there weren’t any shredders inside. Once the room and immediate surroundings were declared clear, the major asked the Queen to lead on.

  Veronica, however, had other ideas.

  “We may be allies, Major, but I’m afraid I can’t reveal national secrets to your entire squad, trusted as they may be. Perhaps your team can wait here until my men and I retrieve what we need?”

  Burke shook his head. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I can’t do that. I’ve been ordered to be certain that you make it back to Allied Command alive and unharmed, and I can’t do that if I’m not with you at all times. It would make my job easier if I had several of my men with me as well.”

  “That’s just not acceptable.”

  Burke did his best to remain calm. He wasn’t the diplomatic type, and the seriousness of leaving the Queen exposed for any longer than necessary was testing his social graces to the limit.

  “My apologies, Your Majesty, but without my squad, you and your men have little chance of surviving an attack by any sizable group of shredders you might encounter. You need us.”

  The Queen’s nostrils flared as her own irritation threatened to break loose. Her tone was icy as she answered his remark with an observation of her own. “And without the equipment I’m going to provide access to, Major, you and your men will be forced to walk back to France.”

  In the end, they compromised, with personnel from both Allied forces. Major Burke would accompany the Queen, along with Professor Graves and Sergeant Drummond. Captain Morrison, the next senior officer after Burke, would take charge of the rest of the group, setting up an observation
post near the entrance to the museum and tasked with defending the perimeter until the Queen and her party returned.

  Burke would have preferred to have another rifle or two along with them in the Queen’s party, but she was adamant that her group remain as small as possible and Burke wanted Graves there to get a good look at anything of an arcane or scientific nature that the British might clandestinely be cooking up in the secret lab of theirs. Britain and the United States might be allies, but Burke had learned long ago that sometimes it is those you hold close that you know the least.

  Instructions were given to those remaining behind and then Burke gathered up his charges, smiled politely at the Queen, and said, “Whenever you’re ready, Your Majesty.”

  A door to the left of the rotunda-­like reading room led to the majority of the galleries on this level and it was through there that Veronica took them.

  One moment Burke was in modern London and in the next he was transported to ancient Egypt simply by stepping through the doorway into the next gallery. The room they entered was dominated by a massive stone bust of an Egyptian pharaoh that looked out over the collection of artifacts sharing the room with him, including the famed Rosetta stone. Burke would have loved to linger, having always enjoyed stories of ancient civilizations and lost cultures as a boy, but the Queen swept right on through as if she hadn’t even noticed the artifacts were there.

  From Egypt they moved forward in time nearly a thousand years to the kingdom of Nimrud in Assyria. Burke caught a glimpse of stone tablets that once adorned the palace walls in 800 B.C. as they rushed through the room, and he marveled at how they looked as if they had been carved just yesterday. He glanced about for the colossal statue of the winged lions he knew was here somewhere and was disappointed to find he must be in the wrong gallery. Someday when the war is over, he vowed silently and grinned at the thought.