A Royal Apocalypse (Lady Slayalot Book 1)

by Louisa Lo

  Chelsea looked outside the window again. The Obsessed were inching closer in some kind of bizarre ritual dance. Two steps forward, one step back, one to the side, while the objects in their hands got lifted and brought back down in reverence. But no matter where they turned, their eyes remained on her, hungry and possessive.

  Nik and Sonny were initially closer to the gas pumps. They pulled back until their backs were pressed right against the glass front door.

  There was no way out of this.

  Yet out of the chanting, another type of sound came through. A deep rumbling. She heard it as much as felt its vibration under her feet.

  Then the Obsessed on the outer ring of the blockade started to fall, and the ones closer to Chelsea scattered. Now that the way was clear Chelsea could see that the fallen Obsessed had had their heads blown off, just like the ones that Day and his soldiers had killed.

  Then the rumbling drew closer, and a couple of military trucks in camouflage patterns became visible. A dozen soldiers shot at the Obsessed from their large open-cargo beds, their effectiveness amplified by their elevated height and tremendous firepower.

  Then came another two trucks. Thanks to the winding nature of the road, the vehicles weren’t noticeable until they cleared the bend. There were soldiers on their cargo beds as well, joining their comrades in firing at the retreating Obsessed.

  Then came yet another two trucks, then another two, then another two.

  All in all, twenty trucks ended up arriving at the stretch of road in front of the grocery store. Well, Chelsea counted twenty, but at least as many more of them had to be parked beyond her visual range.

  The Obsessed had either fled or lay dead.

  “Wow, that’s a lot of backup.” Nik observed.

  Chelsea was thinking the same thing. Granted, there were two hundred civilians to be picked up, plus the soldiers to take back, but the enormous cargo beds meant that everyone would be able to fit into half that number of vehicles with room to spare. Hadn’t Day said they were stretching thin? Why commit more men and vehicles than necessary to do this job?

  As it was, it was looking less like a rescue and more like a military convoy for some important diplomat, and she was nothing like that.

  But soon there was no time to dwell on it. The people, almost delirious from relief, started rushing toward the trucks, desperate to get on before any more attacks. They pushed each other, yelling and screaming, regardless of the fact that there was more than enough room for everyone.

  A couple of shots were fired into the air, and a stern voice said, “Everybody fall back. This is a military operation and we’ll tell you to get on the vehicles when it is your turn.”

  The speaker stood on top of the cargo bed of the first truck, with two assault rifles in hand. It looked like he was also the one who had fired the warning shots. He was a dark-haired man with a stocky build, and cold eyes that were as black as coals. His gaze searched the crowd until it landed on Day, then Nik and Sonny, then Chelsea.

  He jumped down from the vehicle and came to stand before Chelsea and the soldiers. He addressed Day, “Captain Day.”

  “Colonel Martin,” Day nodded. The two men seemed to know each other. It could be Chelsea’s imagination, but she thought Day seemed tightly coiled, even more so than during the Obsessed attack. There was a wariness in his stance, which made her wary.

  She also didn’t miss the look Nik and Sonny exchanged. Wasn’t a colonel a bit of an overkill for a task such as this, especially in the face of a nation-wide—if not global—catastrophe?

  Day and the colonel must’ve continued talking while she pondered all that, because Colonel Martin was now saying, “…your group will ride in the first vehicle with me, and the civilians will follow in the other ones.”

  Chelsea made a move to rejoin the other civilians. She hoped to find Emma and ride with her. The little girl might need help getting onto such a tall truck…

  “Where are you going, m’lady?” Colonel Martin blocked her path, speaking to her for the first time. She wasn’t sure if she was more creeped out by him when he was talking as if she wasn’t there, or when he actually was paying attention to her.

  She pointed at the civilians, who were forming an orderly line to get on the second truck and the ones after, directed by Colonel Martin’s men. “I’m just going to join the line.”

  “You are to ride with me,” Colonel Martin stated firmly. Then he saw how Chelsea’s eyes flickered in Day’s direction, and added, “I mean, with us.”

  Alright, it would appear she had caused enough trouble, and the colonel didn’t want her out of his sight.

  “Fine,” she agreed. After all, they did divert all these resources because of her insistence to be rescued with the rest of the group, so she could hardly push them any further. Except maybe one more thing, “Can he come too?”

  She pointed at Ruiz. She didn’t know what the protocol was regarding former servicemen, but she wanted the older man by her side. She could make out Emma, who was in the middle of being lifted by a soldier into the cargo bed of the second truck, where her mother had already sat down on the floor. At least the little girl got on okay.

  “Alright.” Colonel Martin nodded. He seemed more interested in getting her compliance than having an extra person on his vehicle.

  Soon as the civilians had decided to calm down and obey instructions, the evacuation went rather quickly. When it came down to it, nobody wanted to stay where they were a minute longer than necessary.

  Once the last person got on, the convoy of trucks moved forward, in the same direction that Chelsea had been traveling before stopping at the grocery store—away from the city.

  Chelsea took a last look back at the grocery store. Despite the smashed windows, overturned shelves and Obsessed bodies littering the front, there was something special about that place.

  It was the place where she had stood her ground for the first time about something.

  She wondered if it was just a fluke.

  The convoy snaked along the road until they reached a crossroad, then they turned left. In the next hour and a half, they turned so many times that it would’ve taken a homing pigeon and someone who knew the geography of the land to tell where they were heading, and Chelsea was neither.

  What she was, however, was exhausted. Being surrounded by all that weaponry, she felt like she could finally relax.

  She did not dream as she dozed off.

  Chapter Eight

  Gate

  This time around, she woke up from her sleep not because of Day waking her, but because of something being different. It took a while for her to realize that something was the change in the truck’s vibration as it came to a stop. The engine was still on, though, suggesting that they may not have reached their final destination yet.

  Chelsea opened her eyes. They were at the gate of what looked like a large military base, and every square centimeter of the gate was covered by soldiers with not just assault rifles, but lightweight machine guns, grenade launchers, and even an anti-tank guided missile. It would seem that they were taking no chances when it came to the threat of the Obsessed entering the premises.

  Colonel Martin was signaling the guards to open up the gate, and they obliged. The truck Chelsea was in passed through. She looked back, and saw that the driver of the second truck wasn’t pressing forward. Soon the gate closed again, leaving the rest of the convoy stranded outside the base with an ominous thud.

  “Hey!” A male civilian from the cargo bed of the second truck yelled, and a soldier next to him told him to shut up and sit down.

  “What’s going on?” Chelsea asked Colonel Martin. “Why are we getting through and they aren’t?”

  “We’re just going to check that none of them are infected, that’s all. Can’t be too careful right now.”

  He was bullshitting her. For one, Day had already told her that whatever it was that made the Obsessed the way they were wasn’t contagious. Second, even if it
was, there was no reason why Day, Nik, Sonny, Chelsea and Ruiz should get through when others didn’t. They had been just as exposed as the rest of them.

  She looked at Day, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Nik and Sonny simply looked confused. But Ruiz pressed his lips into a thin line.

  Day might or might not know what was going on, but Ruiz definitely did.

  Chelsea looked at him, willing him to answer her.

  Why? Why did they go through all that trouble just to bar the lot of them at the gate? Why even bring them this close to safety at all?

  “They were doing it for you, girl,” Ruiz said quietly. “So you would agree to come along and not be stubborn.”

  Colonel Martin turned on him. “Shut your trap, man.”

  Ruiz laughed, the sound coming out as a dry bark. “I’m under the command of nobody now. What are you going to do to me, take away my pension? Ain’t much to begin with there.”

  “Then tell me what is going on,” Chelsea urged. A sense of dread spread at the pit of her stomach. She braced herself, knowing deep down that whatever he was about to say, her life was going to be changed forever.

  “You’re the queen now,” Ruiz stated, his voice softened with no small amount of sympathy. “Everyone in line for the throne before you must’ve died. That’s the only explanation for the royal treatment. You’re it, girl.”

  PART TWO

  FIGUREHEAD

  Chapter Nine

  Friend of the Family

  You’re it, girl.

  With those words, Chelsea’s world was thrown upside down.

  Queen? Her, a queen?

  Seriously?

  Then came the horrifying realization.

  For her to be queen, they would have to have received positive confirmation that her dad had also died.

  Chelsea simply refused to believe that.

  She hardly noticed the journey from the gate to the largest building on the base. Chelsea had thought that she was beyond shock, but apparently she hadn’t even known the true meaning of shock yet. She could barely move, barely breathe, barely think.

  No, this has to be a bad dream. If not a dream, then a huge misunderstanding. There’s like, one hundred and fourteen people before me in the line of succession, each more heavily guarded than the last. How could it be possible that they all got wiped out? I’m supposed to be the queen of spending, not the queen of the people, for heaven’s sake.

  Okay, she had to calm down. Nobody had confirmed anything to her yet. Colonel Martin had maintained a neutral expression upon Ruiz’s announcement. He didn’t nod or show any sort of agreement regarding anything. It had to be a good sign, right?

  But he didn’t deny anything outright, either.

  Chelsea didn’t have long to agonize over the various speculations, for the truck soon came to a stop. Colonel Martin jumped onto the ground, then turned back to offer her a hand down. She complied woodenly. Right now, he could tell her to jump off a cliff and she might not have the mental capacity to think of a reason why she shouldn’t.

  “General Roland has requested your audience. Please come with me,” Colonel Martin said to her, then he looked at Day, Nik, and Sonny. “Lieutenant Chen will take you to your new quarters. And the former sergeant will go with you, too. Get some rest, everyone.”

  In other words, they were dismissed and Chelsea was on her own. Day opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something to Chelsea, but then thought better of it and snapped his jaw shut.

  The truck sped away, and Colonel Martin led Chelsea into the main building by pressing a firm hand on her back. They walked along a narrow, sterile hallway, presumably going toward the office of General Roland.

  Suddenly Chelsea came to a halt, resisting the pressure of the colonel’s hand. “Wait, would that, by any chance, be General Charles Edmund Roland?”

  Colonel Martin blinked. “That’s right.”

  With a spring of newfound energy, Chelsea practically ran along the hallway, forcing Colonel Martin to catch up to her.

  She knew the general. He was a family friend. Not a very close one, and not based in London, but he had shown up often enough at her family’s house during her childhood for her to remember him. In her dazed state, it had taken her a while to make the connection, because she had never paid much heed to the fact that he happened to be a general. Being born into the family she was born into, she was always surrounded by earls, dukes, Lord Chancellors, or whatever.

  The general would know what had happened to her father. She would not believe her dad had died unless it was confirmed by his own friend.

  By the time she reached the end of the hall, Colonel Martin was right by her side and guided her toward the hallway on the left. A few turns later, and they were in a section of the building that was considerably fancier. Gone were the fluorescent lights, plain white walls, and tiled floor. In their place were floors covered in hardwood, soft yellow lights from elegant lamps, and walls half-covered in carved wooden panels. Every ten meters there was an alcove large enough to feature a bust of a past British prime minister on a stand.

  Colonel Martin stopped in front of a large wooden double door and knocked.

  “Come in!” A familiar voice called from within.

  The colonel swung open the doors, and gestured for Chelsea to enter. After Chelsea did so, he closed the door behind her.

  She was standing in an office featuring a large mahogany desk and a Persian carpet, with a portrait of the Queen on the wall. Large windows gave a strategic view of a courtyard that was empty now, but might be used for training exercises during the daytime.

  Chelsea swallowed and willed herself to face the man behind the desk. He stood up and moved to stand in front of her. General Roland had aged since she’d seen him last, which had to be about two years ago—a combined result of her moving away for school and him showing up less often for her family’s functions. He had brown hair, with wide white sideburns that were now threatening to take over. He was in an Army blue mess uniform, which was generally reserved for “Black Tie” affairs where a civilian tux with tails was required. The uniform comprised of a white tuxedo shirt, bow tie, a double-breasted jacket in a blue so dark that it was almost black, and matching trousers with two strips of yellow down the side of both legs. A bullion knot was on each of his shoulders, and they gleamed with a luster that went beyond the two percent gold content in the fancier version she’d seen before, making Chelsea wonder if they were special orders. Though the general’s face was exhausted, his form was healthy and fit, his keen eyes missing nothing.

  Staring at the array of medals and ribbons he had on display, Chelsea tried to remind herself that her father’s friend had always been a more showy type of guy. The fact that he looked fit enough to go to a ball was not proof that there was any truth in Ruiz’s claim.

  Then General Roland took in her disheveled appearance, bowed, and muttered the two words that broke her heart.

  “Your Majesty.”

  Chapter Ten

  Creature Comfort

  Obviously she wasn’t very good monarch material, because her reaction upon hearing those two words was to collapse onto the floor. Her tears, flowing freely by then, dropped onto the Persian carpet and were absorbed into the fabric right away.

  General Roland didn’t try to touch her shoulders or pull her into a hug. Maybe there was some sort of rule against that. She was only ever half-listening when it came to monarch-specific protocols. What was the chance of her ever needing them, right?

  Whatever the general’s reason was for not touching her, she was grateful. She wasn’t sure if she was up for anybody’s comfort and sympathy right now.

  She wanted to sink into that carpet and disappear like her tears. She didn’t want to feel anything, to think, or to care, because it hurt so much.

  But if she was indeed queen, she needed to pull herself together.

  After several minutes, she had composed herself enough to look up at the general. />
  “Tell me everything,” she said in a voice that was far calmer than she felt on the inside.

  General Roland glanced at the portrait of Queen Elisabeth II on the wall. “The Queen and her immediate family were killed during the first wave of attacks.”

  Chelsea forced herself to get on her feet, and General Roland offered his hand to help her along. “I don’t understand. The royal family was among some of the most heavily-guarded group of people in the world. How could this have happened?”

  The general’s lips formed a grim line. “That is the easiest question to answer, given what we now know about the Obsessed. I’d been telling my superiors for months that this could happen. We should’ve been far better prepared.”

  What he said about the nature of the Obsessed, and their first victims, made a sick kind of sense. The Obsessed loved all things shiny. The Queen was adorned with, or surrounded by, some of the most beautiful gems in the world. If it was true that whatever made the Obsessed the way they were could have been in everybody’s blood, so to speak, then no amount of employee vetting could’ve prevented the “sleeper” monsters from getting close to her. Same would’ve been true for all of the Queen’s immediate heirs.

  “It’s not just the royals, either,” General Roland added, “All around the world—top politicians, celebrities, the super rich—most of them were taken out right in the beginning of this crisis. It’s been a hell of a mess.”

  “And my father?” It felt almost selfish to care about one’s own kin when the general was literally talking about the end of civilization as they knew it, but she had to know.

  General Roland stared out his window, into the distance. After a long while, he sighed. “He was on board his private jet at the time. From what I could gather, one of the flight attendants had been turned, and caused the plane to crash. There were no survivors.”

  “You’re sure about that?” Chelsea asked, her voice caught.