The Village King (6 page)

S
tephen
was first
out,
followed by Gary and Phil. Alana hung back inside. At the end of their path,
next to the wall, Rory had shot a round into the air from his new rifle. He was
grinning. Deek and Tim giggled to each other.

“How do like that?” Rory shouted.
He fired again. Deek and Tim ducked momentarily, in shock at the noise, but
laughed it up once the sound drifted away.

Stephen walked towards Rory and
was not put off by him levelling the rifle. “Why don’t you fuck off, Rory?” He
felt Gary and Phil’s presence behind him.

Nothing changed on Rory’s
expression. Triumphantly, he laughed, his head rocking back. At that, Stephen
rushed up and smacked him right in the teeth. He heard Alana pull back the
slide on the Glock. She must have come outside, thought Stephen. Rubbing his
mouth, Rory was shocked but he quickly gained his composure and went to raise
his weapon.

“Stop it right now!” The shout,
from a woman’s voice, was from the street to Stephen’s right. Her tone caught
Rory off-balance and he stopped his movement. It was Suzanne. She was striding
towards them, a few people behind her. “I mean it,” she said, her teeth bared
and her eyes wide. “Stop it right now.” She roared the last word and came right
up to them. It emboldened others who crowded around. Not all seemed to be with
Suzanne, Stephen suddenly thought, and he backed off slightly.

Rory sneered right in Suzanne’s
face. “Who do you think you are, Suzanne?”

Stephen used the same tone but
less angry. “Back off, Rory. You sold us out you son of a bitch.”

“What of it?” Rory made some room
to swing the rifle about. A few quailed but some others held their ground,
staring at Stephen.

“That’s enough, Rory.” Suzanne
tried to put her hand on Rory’s arm but he flinched away before pushing the
rifle into her chest with both hands. Suzanne dropped like a stone right onto
the tarmac.

Bodies pressed forward. Rory
gripped the rifle under his armpit and lifted his head. “This what you want?
This it?”

Stephen felt the situation going
out of control. He tried to move but the press of bodies around him had cut off
his escape. He looked to Gary but he was engaged in pulling someone off Phil.
He looked back to Suzanne, who was on the ground but being helped up. Rory dug
the muzzle into Stephen’s ribs. Stephen looked to Alana. She was raising the
pistol in the air, apparently ready to shoot.

Stephen looked behind her.
“Alana!” he yelled and pointed behind her. Her arm recoiled and she twisted
round. The two soldiers, left behind by Morgan, were closing in on her. She
tried to react but they were on her. One punched her on the cheek and she
stumbled. The pistol fell away from her hand.

Gary had two men on him. Phil had
pulled himself away. Someone punched Stephen on the back of the head. It was
Tim, now taunting him, as Rory poked the muzzle at Stephen’s body.

The pistol hit the ground and the
soldiers had overwhelmed Alana. Someone grabbed Stephen’s body and stopped him
moving forward. Phil saw the pistol on the ground. Deek slapped Stephen on the
head. Stephen pushed him back but it provoked the others into punching him. He
tried to move.

The soldiers had grabbed Alana
and were dragging her away. She screamed and reached out towards Stephen.
Someone punched Stephen in the gut and he folded. Phil grabbed the pistol from
the floor at the same time as someone else. He wrestled it away. He looked at
it in his hand. He pointed it unconvincingly at the crowd, who baulked, giving Phil
space to turn and run away.

Stephen saw Gary go down and he felt
punches on his head and on his back as he fell to the ground.

“
S
hame you’ll miss
the party, lads.”

Paul looked in the service hatch
of the cell door, his smirk evident. He lifted the hatch and locked it from the
outside. His steps went back down the hall and they could hear his voice mix in
with others in the Police Station.

Stephen sighed. Locked in a
police cell, he looked up at the window, a high up panel of diffused light. It
was late afternoon. Gary sat opposite patting a burst lower lip. Gary put his
foot on the concrete slab which passed for a bed.

“Party?” Gary said.

“I don’t want to even think about
that,” Stephen responded, genuinely meaning it.

“What do you think will happen to us?” Gary sounded
afraid. It was dark now and he was little more than a vague shape to Stephen’s
eyes. He sat curled up on the bed.

“I would have killed us by now.”

Stephen heard Gary whimper. He
thought about Ellen and Jack and wondered how he had managed to become
responsible for other people again.

“He ran off,” said Gary. “I
thought he was a mate.”

“Yeah,” was all Stephen could
manage to discuss Phil.

Something popped. It woke him up. Stephen was
hugging himself in the cold. Some sounds from the police station outside their
cell.

“Gaz.” Stephen slapped Gary on
his curled up leg. Gary jumped awake.

Keys jangled and someone shuffled
in the hall outside the cell. The door opened. A blaze of light from the
hallway but Stephen could make out Paul. He readied himself to rise and rush to
door.

“Stephen, it’s me. It’s Phil.”
Someone pushed Paul forward and he landed at Stephen’s feet.

“It is Phil,” Gary said,
recognising the boy first. Phil stood in the doorway, grinning. The Glock was
in his hand. He waved at them with his other hand for them to follow him.

O
ut in
the
old public area
of the police station Stephen found Frank pointing a garden fork at the back of
a man on his knees. Frank grinned. “You alright, fella?”

“I’m fine, thanks. Who’s this?”
Stephen walked round to take look at a face of the person on his knees. Stephen
knew the face but not his name.

“His name’s Dave. One of Rory’s
friends.” Frank was scathing and he pushed the points of the fork into Dave’s
head.

Dave flinched and he looked
really scared. Stephen just looked at him. He heard Phil and Gary dragging Paul
back through. They threw him to the floor next to Dave. Paul glared at Stephen;
blood trickled down the side of his head.

“Did my friend shoot you?”
Stephen asked, with exaggerated sympathy and looked up at Phil, who shrugged
apologetically.

“He tried to,” said Paul,
unrepentant and angry. “This is a splinter off the counter.”

Stephen laughed. “But it made you
think twice didn’t it?” He straightened up and clapped Phil on the arm. The boy
smiled but reddened. Gary grinned and punched Phil on the arm.

Stephen composed himself. “Right,
so what’s going on? Alana and Karen?”

Frank lowered his head. Phil
reddened further. “I came for you first.”

“You did well, Phil.” Stephen
walked over to Phil and placed his hands on his shoulder. Phil looked like he
was about to cry. “We’ll go and get them now.”

“You’ll have no chance,” Paul
spat, still kneeling on the floor.

“Do tell,” said Stephen. He took
the fork off Frank and leaned it on Paul’s shoulders.

Paul paused but, so angry at
having been overpowered, he couldn’t help himself. “Your girls are over at the
hall. Rory’s opened the warehouses and after they’ve had a party, they’re going
to have another party.”

Stephen breathed in but he felt
dizzy. The thought of it paralysed him. He tried to catch himself to stop
himself thinking about their whisky and their plans. He looked about him. He
pressed the fork into Paul’s shoulders but somehow held himself back.

“Shall we lock them up?” Gary
said. He had stepped up close to Stephen sensing his friend’s change of mood.
Stephen came to a decision. He looked Gary in the eye. Gary nodded and backed
off.

Stephen leaned forward and spoke
into Paul’s ear. “Well, Paul? Are you with me or against me?”

Paul tutted. “Fuck off, Stephen.”

It was his last thought. Stephen
drove the fork into the back of Paul’s neck. It broke the skin as Paul fell
away. Stephen pressed the handle and pushed forward. Dave screamed and scuttled
off to the side. Phil stepped in and pointed the Glock right at Dave’s head.
That stopped him screaming. Paul’s body shuddered and died, the last Policeman
of the village.

“Christ, Stephen,” said Frank, a
disgusted look on his face.

Stephen put his boot onto Paul’s
head and withdrew the fork. He turned to their other prisoner. “What about you,
Dave?”

“I’m with you, with you,” he
blurted and tried to squirm away.

Stephen closed in on him and held
the bloodied end of the fork up to Dave’s face. “Listen to me very carefully.
We are going to win tonight. In the morning, we are going to run this place. Do
you understand?”

Dave nodded. He had become still
as he listened to Stephen.

“Nothing you do could stop us. If
you tried something, like raise the alarm, it won’t make a difference. It just
means that in the morning, I’ll be looking for you.”

Stephen let Dave think about that
for a moment. He felt exhilarated at the power of the four of them in this room
against two men. At that thought, he softened, “Do you have a weapon?”

Dave looked perplexed, like he
hadn’t understood the question. Phil pressed the gun into his head and said,
“Do you have a weapon?” Dave shook his head.

Stephen straightened. “Get him on
his feet.”

Gary and Frank pulled Dave to his
feet. Stephen motioned for Phil to lower the Glock. He hefted the fork in both
hands and said to Dave, “Get to the wash-houses. Relieve whoever is guarding
the girls, give them some story, and then make sure no-one takes them out of
there. Got it?”

Dave gulped and nodded, looking
to the three men. Stephen handed the fork back to Frank. “Keep an eye on him
and back him up when he gets there.”

Frank nodded. He looked pale.
“Come on, son.” He slapped Dave on the shoulder with the back of his hand. Dave
smoothed his clothes and breathed out. He attempted a humble smile as he left.

“He looks grateful,” said Phil.

“He should be.” Stephen glanced
down at Paul. He walked over to the raised counter PC Paul would have used to
greet the public in an earlier life. He noticed a small chunk cut out by Phil’s
shot.

“I’ve got to ask,” Gary said to
Phil. “Why didn’t you fire the gun when you picked it up?”

Phil held the pistol in his hand
before handing it to Gary. “I didn’t know how.” Gary unclipped the magazine and
checked the number of shots he had.

Stephen fingered the hole in the
counter. “It seems you still don’t.”

Gary and Stephen shared a quick
subdued laugh. “How do we do this?” asked Phil, trying to change the subject.

Stephen held his hands out. He
looked at the counter. There was a broad shelf underneath but it was empty.
Just under the counter was a broad drawer with a half-oval copper handle. He
pulled the drawer open and smiled. “Paul was holding out on us.” He pulled out
another police-issue Glock and handed it to Phil. Gary showed him how to unhook
the magazine.

“And one for the road.” Stephen
pulled out a three-quarter full bottle of whisky. He went to put it to his lips
then thought better of it. “Ready?”

Gary’s blood was up. “Let’s do
it, man.”

Phil palmed the magazine back in
and held the barrel, offering the grip to Stephen.

“That’s yours now, Phil,” said
Stephen. “You earned it.”

Phil grinned and Gary slapped him
hard on the back. He nearly toppled.

T
here was
a
party going on in
the hall. Laughter and chatter could be heard from across the village. The rest
of the place was quiet. The houses at the back were dark. Stephen wondered how
many were at the party. They moved quickly through the high street, keeping to
the side of the buildings and their sound to a minimum. Having decided a detour
through the distillery down below might have been safer, but slower, they made
their way directly to the hall.

Noisy shouting inside masked
their sounds. Candles burning inside flickered shadows on the curtains. As
agreed, Phil peeled off and headed for the wash-houses. Gary followed Stephen
run passed the hall, and round the church, towards the manse. The former
minister’s home was dark and Stephen wondered if the soldiers were in the hall.

Creeping up to the windows, they
looked inside but could see nothing because of the gloom. Gary quietly tried
the door but it was locked. Stephen cursed silently. He wanted whatever weapons
might be in there but dared not break a window. He tapped Gary on the shoulder
and they ran back to the hall.

They dropped to the ground when
someone came outside. Followed by a woman, the man walked on rubber legs back
towards the village proper. The woman leaned against him, just as drunk.
Unnoticed by the couple, Stephen and Gary let them go, before moving again.
Phil ran up to them at the spot near the main door. He was carrying a brick in
one hand and a glowing piece of wood in the other. He had taken it from the
fireplace in the wash-house.

Stephen whispered, “Everything
okay?”

“Yeah,” whispered Phil between
gulps of air. “The girls are fine and Dave and Frank are there.”

Stephen nodded. Their eyes had
adjusted to the dark and the small light glowing from the ember. He said,
“Rory, Deek and Tim; those two soldiers. Everyone else can go.”

Gary and Phil breathed agreement.
Phil pushed the Glock into Stephen’s hand, “You’ll do better with this.”

Stephen took it gratefully. “I’ll
give you the honour of this, then.” He handed Phil the bottle he had found in
the police station, which now had a rag of Paul’s shirt in it, soaked in
whisky.

Phil handled the bottle
carefully. He touched the rag to the ember and blew on it to catch. It flared
and they had to squint and look away. Phil whirled round, holding the bottle to
his side. He ran up to the window furthest from the door and bricked the
window. Shouts died inside as the glass shattered and fell inwards. In one
fluid movement, Phil launched the bottle in through the gap and span away.

A crash of broken glass as the
bottle hit the floor inside and a massive flare as the whisky caught fire. The
curtains were the first to catch it and the shouting started again.

First out the door were a couple
of women followed by one of the soldiers. Stephen and Gary had positioned
themselves on one knee. Stephen took aim and fired. The soldier ducked but he
was unharmed and, crucially, unarmed too. People came running out and jostled
the soldier. Gary fired and the soldier’s head jerked back and he fell to the
ground. A woman screamed and ran off towards the cattle grid as if to flee the
village altogether.

Amongst the mass of people,
Stephen made out the other soldier staggering out, unable to comprehend what
was happening. Unable to get a clear shot, Stephen stood and walked forward. Up
close, the soldier saw him and fear shook his face. Stephen shot him in the
mouth.

Glass tinkled onto the road.
Shots sounded. Someone, Rory, had poked his rifle out the window and was firing
into the air. Gary shot at the window but it bounced off the stone frame. Rory
shot again and one of the partygoers, whisky bottle in hand, fell over. As he
landed, Phil plucked the bottle out of his hand and threw it in the window Rory
was firing from. The bottle smashed and another flare of light. Phil had
another brick in his hand and slammed it into someone else’s head.

As the people thinned, coughing
out into the street. Stephen pushed people aside and grabbed them to see their
faces. He could see Gary struggling with someone onto the ground. A crack and
something bounced off the pavement spinning some tarmac past Stephen’s legs.

Rushing outside, firing wildly,
Rory suddenly ran out of rounds. His face was shocked as he reached Stephen,
his finger clicking the trigger uselessly. Stephen grinned and punched him
square in the face.