Free Kingdom: The Complete Series by Steven William Hannah

away, slicing through the air like huge
cleavers as the pilots eject, soaring through the flames to safety. With the
world around him on fire and spinning rapidly out of control, Mark braces his
legs against the steel bodywork and then kicks himself off into the chaos.
    The cool, passing air
calms the pain in his skin for a brief moment, and then he is rolling on
something solid. He tumbles to a stop and lies on his back, staring up into the
darkening clouds above as misty rain casts itself across the city.
    Breathless, winded, and
covered in aching bruises, Mark pats his hands over his body and tries to relax
his tensed muscles.
    Mark lets out a sigh of
relief, wincing at the pain that comes with breathing, and opens his eyes to
look around: he's on a walled rooftop, low and flat.
    Across the street, he
realises with a grin, are the King's offices.
    A loud crash rocks the
building, and a plume of smoke shoots into the sky, obscuring his view of the
King's throne room.
    Mark rolls over and
groans as he gets to his feet. He is beginning to feel cold and sober again, filled
with a horrible sense of dread and irreparable regret.
    Patting the tattered
remains of his overalls, burst and ruined by bullet impacts, he curses.
Underneath the raggedy fabric, barely hanging off his gaunt frame, his skin is
yellow and blue, swollen and inflamed. Round impact-craters mark as much of his
body as he can see.
    Cursing, he kicks off
his battered shoes and tears the overalls off of himself, standing in a ruined
pile of burnt and torn clothes. His entire body is covered in red welts where
the bullets hit. His chest is covered in thick, purple blotches where the
helicopter's cannon hit him. Even his off-white underwear is marked by blood
and bullet holes.
    “ I
could really use a drink,” he sighs, and looks into the pillar of smoke. He
takes a step backwards and braces his feet like a runner before a race. The
King's offices loom before him.
    He runs, his hangover
burning behind his eyes, and leaps straight into the heart of the smoke.
     
     
    Jamie's nose gushes
blood as he pushes Chloe to the ground. Around him are a swarm of bullets,
frozen in time. The only clear space that he can see is the floor, so he drops
himself onto Chloe and, his prone body covering hers, aims down the pistol
sights. There is no time for finesse – he can feel his mind straining like an
injured muscle. He fires once and the white shirt of one of the King's men
grows a small red blotch. The wall behind him is coated with blood in the
silence, like spray-paint.
    Jamie grits his teeth
through the aching pain in his head. He can hear his pulse pounding faster and
faster, throbbing in the corner of his eye. Time begins to build up against
him, his mind threatening to burst and tear his brain to pieces at any moment.
He holds on – just one moment more, just one more shot –
    His second shot, aimed
through narrowed eyes with a shaking hand, punches through the other man's
abdomen and doubles him over like a knee to the kidneys.
    Gasping for breath like
a resuscitated man, Jamie lets go of his hold on the moment.
    Time snaps forward again.
    He clutches at his
head, rolling on top of Chloe. The two men carrying the King drop him as they
fall to the floor, and the King cries out in pain.
    One of the men clutches
their midriff, screaming in agony. The other falls back against the wall, clutching
his chest, his eyes slowly losing their flame as he slides to the ground,
leaving a thick smear of claret on the grey plaster behind him.
    Chloe is screaming as
bullets clang against the steel door behind her, trying to curl up under
Jamie's protective embrace. When the silence returns and the bullets stop, he
gets to his feet, trembling and shaking. His eyes won't stay away from the
vacant expression of the first bodyguard.
    His victim coughs one
last time, and a pathetic spray of blood stains the front of his shirt and his
pale lips. Chloe's silent disbelief is the loudest