Free The Village King by Eddie McGarrity Page B

crackled around as Stephen
ducked back to the gate. More shots were fired from the manse and from inside
the burnt-out village hall.
    Stephen shouted again, “Cease
fire!” He fired the other barrel into the air. The shotgun made a loud boom and
the soldiers went quiet. They had been caught unawares and were at a loss to
know what to do. Stephen emerged, having left the shotgun behind. He had the
pistol in his hand. “Cease fire!”
    Gary came out of the Manse, his
rifle at the ready. Phil emerged from the hall and ran up, carrying his own
rifle. The two boys covered the soldiers, who had backed into a group. Alana
rounded from the wash-houses and advanced holding the Glock in her right hand,
the left hand cupped under. She bent her knees and moved swiftly to cover the
ground.
    “Drop your weapons!” Stephen
shouted, his voice boomed around the buildings, filling the space. One soldier
threw his rifle straight to the ground. The rest, panicked, and with eyes
searching, began to lay their weapons down.
    Stephen called out, “Lieutenant Baxter.
Come here!” His blood was running fast. He knew he didn’t have much time before
he ran out of adrenaline. No-one moved. “Lieutenant. Now!” He screamed the last
word.
    One of the soldiers pushed one of
the men huddled amongst them. Others joined in and eventually Lieutenant Baxter
staggered forward, jostled out of the group. Stephen saw he was young and
frightened. Stephen holstered his Glock and beckoned him forward. Alana covered
Baxter. When he came up, Stephen put a hand on Baxter’s shoulder and unsheathed
his hunting knife.
    Retrieved from one of the dead
soldiers, who had stolen it from Stephen, the knife was a 10 cm fixed blade of
laminate steel on a grip shaped handle. Stephen rammed it into Baxter’s neck.
Blood spurted. The soldiers yelled and recoiled amongst themselves.
    Alana called out, “Nobody move.”
Her authoritative voice restored order.
    Stephen twisted the knife and
withdrew the blade from Baxter’s neck and let him fall to the ground.
“Sergeant?!”
    The soldiers began to panic,
imagining themselves being picked off one by one in order of rank. Gary shot
into the air then aimed back at the men. They were surrounded and, backed into
a corner they could still be dangerous. The shot controlled them. “Sergeant?”
Stephen sounded impatient. He was covered in Baxter’s blood.
    Movement at the end of the
wash-houses. Alana turned round and bent her knees slightly. “Stop! Do not
move.”
    From around the corner, the
female Sergeant appeared and confidently approached. She had been at the
toilets, Stephen realised, and suddenly appalled none of them had noticed. She
carried her rifle across herself, with the muzzle pointed down. Her helmet was
on and hooked in place. She ignored Alana pointing a gun at her and strode
forward. A few paces away, she stopped, and said, “You called me?”
    Stephen smiled at her.
     
     

27
     
    A ll the
soldiers had to take
their boots, jackets, and shirts off. They were stripped of all weapons and
herded into the church. Charlie and Vincent joined Phil in being an armed guard
watching over them. Gareth was instructed that no-one was to touch the dead
soldiers, but Stephen had removed Morgan’s pistols. The Sergeant was allowed to
keep her full uniform and rifle. They took her to the manse. After she’d
fetched Karen from the vestry in the church, Alana made tea.
    They sat round the kitchen table.
Gary sat across from Stephen, who had washed his face of Lieutenant Baxter. The
Sergeant stood with her back to the rear door. She eyed the canned food, which
is what Stephen wanted her to see; that they had retaken their stolen
belongings. Alana placed mugs on the table and poured the tea out a giant
tea-pot. She caught Stephen’s eye and he saw she was thinking the same thing as
him. They had made love on the table during the night. He managed not to smirk.
    Suspicious at first, the Sergeant
waited until Stephen sipped