The Village King (5 page)

O
n the
morning
they were
due to leave on the can run, Stephen was woken by a bell. A hand-rung bell rang
from outside, insistent and deliberate, raising the alarm. Stephen jumped up.
Across the room, Alana stirred before sitting up. “What is it?” she asked.

Stephen pulled his trousers on
and stepped outside, still buckling his belt. He looked up at the hills above
the village and saw what the bell was for. It was Morgan’s Unit. The small
column of soldiers, all still on horseback, had crested the hill and were
making their way down the road. Gareth, doing his job on the gate, had spotted
them, and was ringing the bell to let everyone know.

Alana and Karen appeared at his
side. She swore when she saw the soldiers and ushered Karen back inside, but
the girl brushed by to use the toilet. Gary and Phil joined them outside. Gary
rubbed his head and yawned. Phil looked terrified.

Stephen said, “You all battened
down there?”

“Yup, all locked down.” They had
stacked all the wood up, inside Gary’s, in front of their supplies and weapons;
Gary’s shotgun included. After moving in, Gary and Stephen had removed part of
a wall, lifted some floorboards, and had stashed their stuff there. Morgan’s
men would likely mooch about but not actually disturb their home, let alone
piles of wood. At least, they normally did that, thought Stephen.

“Will you still go today?” Alana
asked.

“Nah. We’ll stick around,” said
Stephen. “We’ll see what they do.”

Karen skipped up and Stephen
gestured for them to go into their respective billets.

Morgan’s Unit rode round the gate and pulled up
around the church. With the manse, the former Minister’s home, just behind it,
the churchyard and garden provided a decent sized pasture for the horses.
Stephen and Alana watched discreetly from a small window as Morgan dismounted.

Tall and broad, and though he was
dressed the same as his unit in the Multi-Terrain-Pattern uniform, he alone
wore a soft teal-coloured beret, where the others wore helmets. He wore two
silver pistols at his belt, like a mad general of old, thought Stephen. The
rest of the unit wore helmets, which they began to unclip and hook under an
arm, relaxed in their environment. Morgan strode about, surveying the manse.
One of his men took his horse away to join the others.

Quietly, though they would not be
heard, Alana said to Stephen, “I’d like to know what their story is.”

Stephen made a non-committal
shrug, “Would it make a difference?”

She looked him in the eye. “I
came across a unit like this last year. They’d gone rogue because they had no
command structure. This guy Morgan is clearly in charge.”

“So?”

“So, why are they leeching off
the people when they’re supposed to be helping them?”

“Fair point.” Stephen looked back
outside. Morgan was pointing at the house, talking to two men. “The one on the
left is Captain Weaver and the other one is Lieutenant Baxter.”

“And we already met the
Sergeant.” Alana brushed up next to Stephen as she tried to see out the small
window. “Do they always do this?”

“No. My guess is Colonel Morgan
is sizing up a winter home.”

Alana drew away and put her back
to the wall. “Soldiers here for the winter? Bad news.”

“And a re-think on the can runs.”

Alana chewed her lip. “Could we
stay where the cans are?”

Stephen shook his head. “I
wouldn’t have when these goons were out in the countryside. Maybe now.”

She moved back to the window and
looked out. Stephen hung back and looked at her. Long hair, dark mostly but
with different colours flavouring the effect, surrounded the pale skin of her
face. Her eyes were brown and she watched intently. He asked her, “Why are you
interested in their story?”

She shrugged. “Just interested.”
Alana didn’t look at him but kept her attention on the soldiers outside.

She was lying, he knew. There was
something else, he thought, maybe she had been in the military. Certainly, she
knew how to fire a gun. He said, by way of drawing out her thoughts, “I’ll tell
you what I’ve been wondering.”

“What?” She still didn’t look at
him.

He paused. “What would happen if
their command structure was disrupted?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if Morgan was taken out?
What would the outcome be?”

This time she looked at him.

M
organ
called a
meeting and
everyone gathered in the hall. Children were supposed to wait outside but Karen
had clung to Alana, who stayed next to Stephen in a spot against the wall but
still near the door. Gary and Phil stayed at the wash-houses. Finally, the
adults from the village gathered, all fifty three of them.

Suzanne sat on a chair at the
end. The floor of the hall had once been marked out as a badminton court. Faded
white lines lay along the scuffed floor. Frank, Gareth and Bet stood behind
Suzanne; like courtiers, thought Stephen. Alana remained impassive but her eyes
roamed around the faces, taking in all the details.

Rory sauntered in, a smug look on
his face and sidled up to the wall opposite Stephen. People moved out of his
way while his sidekicks Deek and Tim took up a place either side of him. No-one
spoke much, fearful of what Morgan wanted. Finally, the Colonel arrived.

Boot steps could be heard in the
entranceway. Morgan entered first, followed by his Captain and Lieutenant. 
Both junior officers carried rifles, held across them with the muzzles angled
down. Their index fingers rested outside the trigger guard while their gloved
hands held the grip. Removing his beret, Morgan smiled at Suzanne. When he
spoke, a soft Welsh accent filled the room.

“Good morning, everyone. Thank
you for coming.” He sounded grateful, but everyone here had felt ordered to be
there. All could see the silver pistols at his hip. “I am very happy to tell
you we intend to winter here.”

Some people to Stephen’s left
shuffled their feet. One of the men, Charlie, caught Stephen’s eye. Morgan
continued on with his speech about how everyone should make them welcome. He
leaned on his silver pistols. Charlie turned back to listen. Alana had noticed
this and she exchanged a look with Stephen.

Morgan asked if anyone had any
questions. There was silence for a moment before Suzanne stood up. Composing
herself first, she asked, a tremor in her voice, “And how do you intend to feed
yourselves?”

Morgan smiled. Captain Weaver
glanced at the Lieutenant, who swallowed. Morgan said evenly, “We will be
availing ourselves of your hospitality.” His eyes roamed around the group to
allow them time to digest his point.

“Colonel Morgan, we will barely
feed ourselves this winter.” Suzanne had spoken respectfully but firmly. Frank
rearranged his feet and moved closer to Suzanne, though his grey beard jittered
at his mouth.

Morgan smiled again. He replaced
his beret carefully before opening his hands. “I’ll leave you to work out the
details.” He turned on his heels, followed by his officers.

Rory and his friends skulked out
while the meeting broke up into angry denunciations of how that was handled by
Suzanne and how they would cope. Charlie nodded to his brother, Vincent, and
the two of them went to go. As he passed Stephen, Charlie said, “Time to move
on, I think.”

Stephen held him by the arm.
“Where will you go?”

Charlie shook his head and
shrugged. He followed Vincent out the room. While the shouting went on, Stephen
said to Alana, “What did you make of that?”

She thought for a minute, looked
around, and then pulled Stephen to the side. They moved away from the others,
who were moving into the middle of the room, where Suzanne appealed for calm.
Alana said, “Take out Morgan? Weaver takes his place. Lieutenant Baxter is
ineffectual, probably incompetent.”

Stephen felt shocked at her
assessment. He looked at the crowd, then back to her. “So what we do with
Weaver and Baxter?”

“How the hell should I know?” She
suddenly seemed frustrated at him. “Just remember those things.”

He nodded, bewildered by her
sudden insistence. He motioned for them to go and the three of them left. Karen
held onto Alana’s hand, having been quiet the whole time.

When they stepped outside, they
crossed the road to go over to the wash-house. Stephen looked left towards the
cattle-grid. Rory was talking with Morgan while Deek and Tim held back at the
corner of the hall. Rory was pointing towards the direction of the wash-houses
while Morgan listened intently. Stephen kept them moving, but slowly, so he
could see what was happening. He was horrified to witness Morgan hand Rory one
of the army rifles.

“Shit,” Stephen growled. He
pulled the girls round the corner to where they would be unobserved. “Listen to
me-”

“Did he just-?” Alana had seen
what took place and was outraged but she kept her voice down.

“Just listen,” said Stephen. He
was panicked and he spoke impulsively, not having consulted Gary, but he knew
he had to speak. “Between Duns and Chirnside, there is an old petrol station
with a burnt-out tanker in the forecourt. Half a kilometre east is the road to Edrom.
At the end of that road is a brick house with red-painted window frames. The
house is gutted but in the back garden is an honest to god cold-war bunker. The
entrance is too out in the open while these soldiers are out and about but if
they’re here, well...”

Alana gulped. She searched his
face. She knew what he was telling her, that the bunker was stocked with tins.
She also knew what was about to happen, they both did. A squad of soldiers
double-timed round the corner and headed for the wash-houses.

R
ory had
sold
them out. They
sat in Gary’s place amongst the remains of their gear.  Phil rested wrists on
his knees and leaned against the wall, next to a great hole. Gary hung his head
and stared into the void. He had dug the hole in the plasterboard himself.
Stephen had had the idea of lifting the floorboards. Inside they had stashed
all their stuff and stacked wood up in front to conceal everything.

It was all gone, stolen by
Morgan’s Unit. The prized shotgun was in Deek’s hands, while Tim was in
possession of Stephen’s Glock. Everything else had been pillaged by the
soldiers; their food, everything. All they were left with was the clothes they
stood up in.

Stephen knew, though he said
nothing, that Alana still had her Glock concealed on her person. She played
with Karen’s hair as the girl dozed in her lap. Stephen rested his forehead on
clasped hands. The sight of Rory being handed the rifle boiled his blood but he
held his rage down. He let it simmer inside him. He’d taken a punch when he had
tried to intervene. Two SA80s pointed at their heads had halted further
protests from him and Gary.

Suzanne and the rest of them had
watched from a distance and done nothing. What could they do, he told himself,
though he still found himself angry at their inaction. They were weak,
defenceless and afraid, but he couldn’t help but think there were a few smug
looks. He knew he was resented for having tins of food while they toiled in
their gardens. Not everyone appreciated trading with him and would have taken
pleasure in seeing it taken from him.

Clipped sounds of hooves on
tarmac sounded from outside. Alana was first to the window. Phil followed
Gary’s lead of staying where they were and not moving at all. Stephen asked,
“What’s going on?”

“They’re pulling out.” Alana kept
her tone even, reporting the facts. Karen joined her and tip-toed to see. “Two
are staying at the manse. The rest are headed up to the forest.”

Stephen dragged himself up and
peered out the window. “All our food is in the manse. They’ve left two guards.”

Out in the street, Morgan led the
way as they rode round the cattle grid and headed up the grassy path. The two
Privates left behind disappeared inside the Manse and closed the door.

“What are you thinking?” Alana
asked.

“I’m going in there to get my
stuff.” Stephen was serious.

“It won’t be easy.”

“It will be impossible,” Gary
said. He stayed where he was.

Alana took Stephen by the arm.
“Let’s just think about it first.”

“What’s there to think about?
I’ll chap the door, you blow their heads off with the Glock and we’ll get our
stuff back.”

“There’s a way to do these
things.” Alana was insistent. She was thinking about something, calculating
again. She gripped his arm tighter, holding him close. “I was a Forensic
Psychologist at Fettes.”

She had his full attention.
Sharing something about herself was something he had thought she would not do.
Near the famous public school of the same name in Edinburgh, Fettes was the HQ
of Lothian and Borders Police.

Gary shifted round to see.
“You’re Police?”

Alana nodded at the question but
kept her attention on Stephen. “When everything turned to shit I got assigned
to an Armed Unit. This police issue Glock 26 was what I trained on.” She patted
her hip.

“What are you saying?” Stephen
knew she was trusting him completely. Maybe it was because he had shared the
location of the bunker and maybe it was something else but she had an idea about
something. Stephen decided he would figure out her motivation later.

“I’m saying you walked into that
farmhouse and pulled us out of there, but it may not happen like that again.”
Alana let him think about that for a moment then released his arm.

       A rifle shot sounded
outside.