The Regent

by Marcus Richardson

  “That sounds healthy,” muttered Denny.

  “To what end?” asked Braaten.

  “To prepare you for the accelerant. That was the gas she released. I’m guessing she had the CRISPR virus released in the area days ago. The virus causes your body to secrete a hormone…and this was all just theory when I was with the Council, remember, so I don’t know for sure—but the hormone acted on your temporal lobe, specifically the amygdala—the part of your brain that controls emotions and the drive to act. Basically, it leaves you receptive to the accelerant which was supposed to tip you over into the Council’s hands…docile, easily controlled, and willing to do anything to please anyone who knew how to manipulate you in that altered state.”

  “Is that what she did to Barron?” asked Braaten.

  “Yes,” Baker said. “Only what she had then was just the prototype. This…this is something else.”

  Braaten shook his head. “Son of a bitch…” He rubbed his hands through his close-cropped hair. “This is beyond fucked up, you know that, right?”

  “Yup,” Ms. Baker said, crumpling up her protein bar wrapper.

  “So I’m assuming we were exposed to the virus—was that the flower smell?” asked Denny.

  “That’s the accelerant. Jayne uses it as her perfume, sick bitch,” Baker said. She looked at him, her head slightly cocked to the side. “I don’t know why you weren’t affected. I nearly went over the edge and killed people…but I felt so…strong.” She flexed her hands. “I still do…but it’s fading.”

  Braaten stared at the ceiling. “It’s because of Huntley, isn’t it?”

  Baker reacted as if she’d been slapped. “What about him?”

  “When I brought Dr. Boatner in from Boston…they thought I was infected with the Korean Flu. They whipped up a batch of vaccines or something from Huntley’s blood…Brenda…” Braaten’s face clouded and he stared off in the distance. “Brenda inoculated me herself…” he mumbled, rubbing his arm. “I was the first.” He stared off into the distance again. “She used his blood, not the synthetic shit they’re making the vaccine from now.”

  Baker nodded. “It’s possible…maybe the antibodies in his blood that were transferred to you to fight the Korean Flu helped keep you safe from Jayne’s modified virus…”

  “And they gave me the vaccine, too—all of Congress, actually. They said it was derived from The Source…”

  Braaten blinked as if being pulled back to reality. He turned and looked at Denny. “First smart thing Congress has done all year.”

  “What do we do now?” asked Ms. Baker. “Have you heard from Oakrock?”

  Braaten shook his head. “Nothing since this morning. But I don’t have a phone or radio so that makes it kind of hard.” He looked at Denny. “When it’s dark, we need to get you out of here, sir. We’ve got to find somewhere that’s safe.”

  38

  Holy Ground

  Cooper didn’t know exactly how long they’d been inside the chapel, but he knew it had been more than an hour. Most of the screams and sounds of fighting outside had died down, replaced by the occasional gunshot or someone running past the small arrow slit at the back of the chapel.

  If I just had one of those damn puck cameras…

  Cooper got up, dusted himself off and gathered one of the big benches. He dragged it noisily over to the altar, then eyed the gap between the arrow slit and the floor. It was placed almost 9 feet up off the ground, to illuminate the chapel with the eastern sun.

  He angled the bench between the altar and the wall, then used it as a climbing board to scrabble up to the arrow slit. Holding himself in a precarious position, he was just able to peek out the arrow slit and glanced down upon the chaos surrounding the little chapel.

  The first thing he saw was a dead body. Someone had been ripped to pieces and left to bleed out on the ground not ten feet from the back of the chapel. Smoke billowed past, briefly obscuring his narrow view of the outside world. In the distance, he could see the edge of the Half Moon Battery. A man ran into view carrying a stave of some kind, turned and looked around, then skittered back into the shadows.

  He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost sunset. We should be able to get out of here soon.”

  He slid down the bench and dropped to the ground, enabling 13 to climb up for her own look. She scrambled up as lithe as a cat and hung there balanced on the board as if she’d been born there.

  Cooper rubbed his aching arms. You make that look easy…

  A moment later, she dropped to the ground next to him and confirmed his suspicions. “I think you’re right; the best course of action is for us to get out of here. There’s a small cache of riot gear in the Argyle tower. There might be rappelling ropes in there. If so, we should be able to scale the southern wall.”

  “You want me to climb over the side of a castle wall?” asked the senator.

  Cooper smirked “No, I think she—”

  “Quiet!” 13 snapped, holding her hand up to stop the conversation. “Listen,” she whispered.

  Cooper paused. There. Gunfire. It had to be outside the castle.

  “It’s getting closer…” 13 said, looking at him.

  “It’s organized, too. Not the random shit we’ve heard.” He looked at the senator. “Somebody with training is coming this way. By the sound, I’d say at least four or five soldiers.” He paused, closing his eyes and listening.

  “I count six,” 13 said.

  Cooper kept his eyes closed and listened. “Yeah…maybe six. They’re covering each other, conserving ammunition, not spraying and praying like the infected do. These guys are mowing down anybody in their path. Pros.”

  “Did you hear anything about reinforcements?” the senator asked.

  Cooper shook his head. “Far as I know, the president didn’t want you to come in the first place.”

  “So we can safely assume that those aren’t Americans?”

  “No—but whoever it is, they’re bringing the party to us.”

  “What’s this party you keep talking about?” 13 asked with a smile. “If this is your idea of a good time, I certainly don’t want to be around you in a fight.”

  Cooper laughed. “You should’ve seen me back in the day…when I had my team…” He blew air through his lips. “We’d already be on our way to the bars by now.”

  “Then let’s see about making that a reality,” Denny said standing up. “I’m ready to get the hell out of here.”

  “And the vote?” asked 13.

  “I think it’s safe to say that whoever wants to stop this vote isn’t going to be deterred by me surviving. I’ve seen what they’re willing to do. There’s no way that vote’s going to happen. The best thing we can do now is get back stateside and prepare for what’s coming next.”

  13 glanced at Cooper. “A world war.”

  “Well, you wanted to see what a real party’s like…”

  “If they’re coming this way, they could be working for Jayne. She’ll need a way out of here, too,” 13 advised.

  “Fuck me. We need to go. Now,” said Cooper.

  “Wait, what if they’re here to help?” asked the senator.

  “And what if they’re not? We’ll be trapped inside with the infected cops and the bad guys. No thanks. We can hardly protect you from the infected, let alone from Jayne’s henchmen—if that’s who that is,” Cooper replied, pointing at the arrow slit. The gunfire continued unabated and was definitely closer.

  “I agree with Mr. Braaten,” 13 said, nodding her head in his direction. “We can’t take the risk that those aren’t Jayne’s reinforcements. They’re certainly not here to help the infected people.”

  “But…” the senator said. “We can’t leave Eli.” He looked between the two of them. “He’s still in the Governor’s House.”

  “If he hasn’t been infected by now, he’s better off there.”

  Cooper nodded in agreement. “He’s wounded, remember. We need to move fast and he’d slow us down.”<
br />
  The senator crossed his arms. “This is ridiculous. I’m not leaving my chief of staff to fend for himself in a town full of insane people. They’re tearing themselves apart out there!”

  Cooper took a step forward, intent on knocking the senator unconscious and dragging his body out. 13 seemed to sense what he was about and put a hand on his chest to stop him. “Wait,” she said, her head tilted to the side. “Listen.”

  “Now what?” Cooper growled. Then he heard it. Gunfire. More of the same—regular rhythm, covering each other…moving closer…from the opposite direction. He groaned. “Aww shit.”

  “What, what is it?”

  Cooper looked at Tecumseh. “There’s more of them out there—maybe another fireteam—they’re heading this way from the opposite side of the castle.”

  “All the more reason not to leave Eli behind.”

  Cooper stared at Tecumseh. “I thought you had more sense than this. You survived Salmon Falls. Hell, you liberated it.”

  He watched as anger flared behind those coal-dark eyes. For a split second, Cooper was sure the senator would have scalped him if he’d had a tomahawk.

  You got balls, I’ll give you that.

  Cooper sighed. “You’re not going to back down on this, are you?” He purposely left off the ‘sir.’

  “No.”

  Cooper drew his sidearm and handed it 13. “Here, take this…and these extra mags.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked, a suspicious tone in her voice.

  “I’m giving you my gear. I’ll go get his precious chief of staff. If I don’t come back, you get him to safety.”

  “Why you?” asked 13.

  Cooper grinned. “Because I’m prettier.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  “And also because I’m older.” He shook his head to stop her argument. “You know Jayne and her tactics better than I do. My knee is healed, but it’s still not 100% and I don’t want to have it go out on me in a critical moment. I don’t heal as fast as you.”

  She shot him a fearful look. He stared into her blue eyes, then down the smooth skin of her face to the barely visible scar at her jawline. He tried to assure her with his eyes that he wouldn’t tell her secret.

  Brenda told me about your ability. You’re like Huntley, you got special blood or something. I found the notes in her diary. She thought you were important, like Huntley, but not like him.

  “Look, let me do this. If something goes wrong, you know the castle layout better than I do. You can get him over the wall and out of this goat fuck better than I can.” He checked his watch. “Give me thirty minutes to get Eli and get back here. If I’m not here, leave without me. I’ll meet up with you later.”

  “At the airport?” she asked.

  Cooper nodded. “Right. That transport is still there. The Air Force may be a bunch of weenies, but they sure as shit won’t let anyone jack their plane.” He turned to Tecumseh. “You’ll be all right, sir. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Be careful,” 13 said, genuine concern in her voice. “Jayne is dangerous. And this is her home turf.”

  Cooper flashed a grin. “Careful. That’s my middle name.”

  13 snorted. She helped him move the bench back from the door. “I’m going to find that bitch and kill her.”

  “Well, let me get back first, Ahab,” Cooper whispered, peering out the wooden door. “Looks clear. This is my chance. You two stay frosty.” He pulled an 8-inch dive knife from its sheath strapped upside down to the chest rig he wore and reversed the grip. “You know, back at BUD/S, they told us never bring a knife to a gunfight…”

  Cooper stepped out into the gathering gloom and squinted at the chilly mist that clung to his skin. He waited until the door closed softly behind him with the sound of wood scraping stone. After the quiet thump announced 13 had replaced the bench, he jogged down the little wooden ramp and crouched next to the massive cannon a little placard named Mons Meg.

  39

  Backed into a Corner

  The president stood from the desk and looked at his assembled cabinet in turn. “You’re telling me that the world, essentially, is lining up against us on this one? Even after the announcement that we took out Renolds?”

  Secretary of State Strettall tugged at his collar and rubbed his face. “Not exactly, sir.”

  The president arched an eyebrow and waited. All eyes in the room turned to Strettall.

  “They’re telling us they don’t want to rush into anything. They’re not going to sanction a war—”

  “Even if we’re technically just defending ourselves?” asked the president.

  “At this point, sir,” the Attorney General spoke up, “they’re probably going to use the truce as proof that we can live with the Occupation until cooler heads prevail. It’s been over six months now…”

  “No one has done more to destroy the Council—” began the president.

  “Iran in particular is questioning our narrative and demands proof of Ms. Renolds’ demise,” replied the Secretary of State.

  “Of course they are,” groused the president. He looked up at his advisors. “Do we have a positive ID yet?”

  Chief of Staff Revellue shook his head. “It’s too early to tell, sir. We found several parts of bodies and we have the FBI’s top forensics team working on nailing the ID, but the procedures are going to take time to do it right. We can weather whatever storm the Iranians try to pull on us—we nailed the bitch.”

  The president sighed. “I don’t like this business with the boy, though.”

  Secretary of Defense Thaler cleared his throat. “No one does, sir, but this is a war for our very survival. This boy’s family is directly responsible for hundreds of thousands of deaths in Atlanta. We must be merciless in our pursuit of justice.”

  The mere thought of Atlanta sent a shudder of anger through the president. “You’re right, Sam. Thank you…” He looked up at the Secretary of State, Lewis Strettall. “Lewis, stay the course and don’t let the Iranians pull us off target. The Council is all but finished now—keep the focus on North Korea.”

  Secretary Strettall nodded. “Of course, Mr. President, but I should warn you, going down this path will lead us closer to a global conflict.” He compressed his mouth and exhaled. “Destroying that chateau and possibly killing that boy just added fuel to the fire for our opponents. Especially Iran.”

  The president slammed a hand down on the table. “Bullshit!” He stepped away from the table, willing his heart to slow before it burst through his chest like some sci-fi monster. He closed his eyes, facing the wall, and took a calming breath. “They know we’re going to ignore this little resolution they’re drafting, right?”

  “Frankly, sir, I think the big players like the ChiComs are counting on us rejecting it,” said Admiral Bennett. “It’ll give them ammunition to level sanctions against us and solidify their coalitions. Once that happens, all bets are off.”

  The president looked at his cabinet. “Recall our ambassadors.”

  “What? From where?” asked Secretary Strettall.

  “Everywhere,” the president said. “They’re pushing us into an untenable position, gentlemen.” He glanced at the Joint Chiefs. “If we strike fast and knock the Koreans into the Pacific, take back our land, and make this country whole again…can we do it before the rest of the world gets involved?”

  Admiral Bennett replied immediately. “Absolutely. For six months we’ve been amassing troops and supplies, recalling our forces from around the world—except for key strategic locations—and preparing. The Navy has effectively blocked the NKors from resupplying. They’re cut off and they know it. We’ll roll ‘em up and won’t stop till we hit the ocean.”

  Secretary Strettall cleared his throat. “That’s all well and good, but then what? China will be furious. North Korea might throw a few nukes around the Pacific Rim—”

  “No one’s made any clear threats,” the president said. “We have made our intentions clear fr
om Day One. We will take our country back, with or without international help. And once we’re done mopping up, we’re going to teach those troublesome fuckers a lesson the world won’t soon forget. They know we’re coming.”

  “That’s the problem, sir,” Strettall continued. “What was it, Sam? How many troops did China move around last week?”

  “About half a million,” Samuel Thaler, the Secretary of Defense.

  “Half a million…Mr. President, the Chinese know exactly what’s going on and they’re preparing for a full-on war with us. Does anyone know what the Russians are doing?”

  Thaler grunted. “Nobody ever really knows what Ivan’s up to. We can guess, but they’re keeping their force movements secret—if they’re doing anything. This isn’t their fight, remember.”

  “But they agreed to take the blame for the U.N. vote for China. They’re involved now,” countered Strettall. “This is shaping up to be a global conflict, sir. I can’t stand behind this course of action. I recommend…” he paused, taking stock of the faces in the room. “I realize this won’t be popular, but I have to speak my conscience. We should follow what the U.N.—what the world—is asking us to do.”

  “Fuck the United Nations,” snarled the Commandant of the Marine Corps.

  “That’s enough,” the president said.

  “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking,” General Rykker said. He glanced at the Secretary of State. “Well, almost everyone.” He turned to the president. “Sir, I recommend we launch a pre-emptive strike against the NKors when we touch off the Reconquista.”

  “So China will get involved that much sooner?” asked Strettall.

  “Negative,” the Commandant snapped. “If we level North Korea, China will have its hands full with millions of starving refugees. The military will have to line the borders to keep them out. They’ll be too preoccupied to pay attention to what we’re doing on our own soil.”