Kingdom: The Complete Series (10 page)

“
How
do we follow him?” Chloe asks, her frightened eyes locked on the heavy oak door
that stands between them and whoever is coming after them.

“
I
have no idea -” Jamie begins, and then the rustling scrape above them gets
louder and Mark drops, tumbling and rolling, back through the holes that he has
punched in the building. He hits the floor with a crash that shakes bottles and
books off shelves, stumbling onto his hands and knees as he tries to right
himself.

“
It's
clear up there. We go one at a time, grab hold of me.”

Mark looks up, his
naked torso now covered in the white chalk of concrete debris, his hair grey
with dust. Through the ash mask on his face, his eyes sparkle with intoxicated
energy.

“
I'm
not sure if it's a good idea, Mark,” says Jamie, “we're not as durable as you.”

“
It's
that or get shot. Just tuck your limbs in, there's plenty room.”

Jamie can't decide
whether to offer himself first, in case the leap hurts Chloe, or to go first
because the soldiers might burst in soon. Before he can decide Chloe has
already shuffled over to the janitor. Mark hesitates to wrap one arm around
her, as though she might give him a shock, and she laughs and holds onto his
waist.

“
I
don't bite, big guy,” she pats his naked back and screws her eyes shut, and
Mark gives Jamie a confident nod. Jamie does not return it, his face is clouded
with worry.

Mark leaps, and Jamie
listens for the crash of their impact against a roof or a wall.

Instead, he hears
nothing until Mark drops through the burrowed hole with another thud and,
grinning with enthusiasm, motions for Jamie to hold onto him.

“
You
next, mate.”

Jamie looks at the
door. He'd be more relaxed if there were shouting, hollering soldiers chasing
them. The lack of any sound unnerves him even more.

“
Don't
mess this up, Mark, I swear -”

His voice is cut off by
his own screaming as Mark grabs him and leaps, accelerating like a missile
through the building, shielding Jamie with his body, until dreary evening light
and fresh air bathe them.

Jamie gasps as they
slow down, taking a breath of air that doesn't smell like stale whiskey and
ashtrays. He tumbles away from Mark onto the gravel rooftop, rolling on his
side before he relaxes, letting his head fall back onto the stones as he
exhales.

Cool evening air washes
over them, and Mark rubs the dust and debris from his hair and his eyes,
laughing. Chloe is already on her feet, looking out across the city.

“
I
can see for miles,” she turns, beaming.

“
That's
great, darling.” Jamie groans as he sits up cracking his back and rubbing life
back into his tense, sore fingers. “Where to now, superman?”

Mark laughs and
dismisses him with a hand wave.

“
Don't
be silly, I can't fly.” His eyes are unfocused from the drink, but he holds up
a finger. “Bear with me for a moment.” He pauses to think, before suppressing a
belch and pointing downwards. “Unfinished business with our friend.”

Mark swaggers to the
hole and jumps back down into the breach again, leaving Jamie and Chloe in a
mixture of dumbfounded confusion and dubious laughter.

“
Y'know,
we might just survive this,” she says.

The Trespasser stands
with his hands raised in the hallway. Like a thunderstorm, the approaching
squad crashes into the corridor and fans out, freezing when they see him. Dark,
uniformed figures without faces aim their weapons at him. He knows their
training; he knows how to handle this.

“
I
surrender,” he says, loud and clear.

“
Identify
yourself.”

“
Trespasser
One, I'm a part of Operation Firefall just like you are.”

One soldier steps
forward from the crowd, rifle still aimed at the Trespasser. A hand goes to his
ear, and he stops to listen.

“
Command
isn't very happy with you, Trespasser. Where's your comms unit?”

“
I
tore it out,” he takes a breath, stating his rehearsed lines, “in order to
pursue my mission objective in the face of orders that compromised the end
result of the entire operation, and the lives of civilians. There was no time
to react in any other way.”

The soldier listens to
the orders in his headset, and then nods, detaching something from his helmet
and lowering the rifle to walk across the hallway.

“
Command
wants to talk to you,” the soldier says, and the Trespasser takes the earpiece
and plugs it into one of the USB slots in his helmet.

“
Command,”
his tone is curt and professional, “this is Trespasser One.”

Command's voice is
laced with impatience, anger and frustration as it feeds into his ears through
his helmet. Trespasser One flinches like a child being told off.

“
The
hell were you thinking, son.”

“
I
just explained, sir,” he says, “I had to pursue the target before we lost him.”

“
You
lost the target anyway, on top of disobeying a direct order.”

“
I
apologise, sir, but that's not accurate. I have not one, but two targets, and
can bring them in without a struggle.”

Command is silent,
taking this in.

“
How?”

“
They
have agreed to turn themselves over to the Agency on the condition that
criminal figurehead known as the King is brought to justice -”

“
Stop
right there, Trespasser,”
says Command, a heavy sigh sending
a rush of static through the earpiece.

Trespasser One waits,
and Command is silent for a minute, leaving the Trespasser to stew in his own
anxiety.

“
You
spoke to the targets.”

“
I
learned about the King during negotiations with the targets, sir.”

“
I
told you not to pursue this line of inquiry, Trespasser One.”

“
Why?
Because you were afraid I'd find out the truth? How long have we known about
this guy, Command? How long have we let a psychopath terrorise a city? Is this
why the figures look so good? Why unemployment is so low?”

The soldiers watching
him look at each other with questioning eyes behind their masks, frowning.

“
I
wish I didn't have to do this, Trespasser One. I have given the order to
terminate you.”

The Trespasser sees it
in the soldier's eyes before he hears the words.

He leaps before they
can process the order to kill him and react. The soldier at the front is the
first to go down. Without the time for finesse or technique, the Trespasser
rams an elbow through his mask, breaking his nose at the bridge between his
eyes.

He slumps with a cry of
surprise, and then the Trespasser pounces into the four other men.

Somebody gets a shot
off, and he feels it pass his face like a whisper. He closes with them,
neutralising their advantage, and ducks under their fumbling strikes. Drawing
the tazer from his belt, he jams it into a soldier's thigh and fires. Froth and
blood erupt from the bottom of the soldier's mask, and the Trespasser rises in
the midst of the fray, snapping another soldier's head back with a crushing
uppercut.

Two left.

One of them gets a
rifle butt into the Trespasser's ribs, and his armour takes the worst of the
blow. He spins, grabbing the weapon from the soldier's hands and snapping it
upwards so suddenly that the barrel cracks the man's jaw shut and his eyes roll
back in his skull. Trespasser One catches the movement in his peripheral
vision: the soldier behind him produces a pistol and levels it at the back of
his head.

Trespasser One snaps
his head to the side as the gun discharges, deafening him in one ear. With a
head full of ringing bells, he pirouettes like a dancer, crashing his forearm
into the soldier's arm. The shock makes him drop the pistol, and the Trespasser
follows it up with a jab to his unprotected throat.

The soldier goes down,
gasping for air.

“
Good
luck with that termination order,” the Trespasser says into his comms unit.

“
You
can't run forever, Trespasser -”

“
I
don't have to. I just need to stay alive long enough to take this King bastard
down. I don't know why you're protecting him, Command, but this is your chance
to help me fix this whole mess.”

Command says nothing.

As if in answer,
Trespasser One hears the rumble of more soldiers coming up the stairs.

He turns and runs,
ascending the building without pausing for breath until he reaches the door,
following the unmistakable scent of alcohol and sweat. As he runs, he rips the
comms unit out of his helmet and stows it in his belt in case he needs it.

He kicks the door down
and enters the room with his weapon up, only to find himself in a cloud of dust
that coats his eyes. Cursing, he looks up at the shaft of sunlight penetrating
the room, and sees a human sized bullet hole shot straight through the upper
floors of the building. In the distance he hears helicopters, and curses away
his apprehension as he takes the rope-gun from his belt once more.

Episode
8

Flight

The
false King lies prone on the gravel rooftop with a half naked, drunken janitor
standing over him.

“
I
was going to take you with us,” says Mark, folding his arms, “but where we're
going? I don't want you there if I can help it.”

The King says nothing,
his dry throat burning in the open air. Behind the janitor, Jamie and Chloe
return to staring out over the city, exchanging hushed words.

“
Which
means that I'm going to have to do this before we leave,” says Mark, and bends
down to pick the King up by the neck.

Hearing his choking
struggle, Jamie and Chloe whip around to see Mark marching him to the edge of
the building where a ledge stands at waist-height. Mark sits him on the edge
and pushes him back, hanging onto him by his tie.

The King gives him a
hard stare as the wind whips at his face, making his eyes water.

“
I
know you won't drop me.”

“
Tell
me where the real King is and I won't have to.”

“
Why
would I? You haven't got the balls,” the King laughs. “You've shown that
already.” Jamie starts to walk over, but stops when Chloe grabs his hand; the
King points at him and smiles. “Now him: he's a killer. Stone cold.”

“
You
had my back against a wall,” says Jamie, “I didn't want to kill anybody.”

Their conversation is
cut off by the whistling sound of an arrow flying out of the exit-hole that
Mark left in the roof. They all flinch back, and Mark grabs the King and throws
him onto the gravel of the roof as though they were being shot at. The arrow
trails a thin steel rope behind it, which tugs it to a stop as it bursts
outward into a grappling hook, latching onto the edge of the hole.

“
Here
they come,” says Jamie. “We need to leave.”

Mark turns to them.
“Wait. Maybe it's him.”

“
The
soldier?”

“
Trespasser,”
Mark corrects him.

As if in answer the
rope goes taut and a voice comes up from the hole:

“
It's
me,” the soldier's voice shouts up, rippling like an echo. “It's Trespasser
One.”

Mark looks at them
again, smiling.

Trespasser One's gloved
hands grab onto the edge of the hole and Mark lunges forward to pull him up.
Like extracting a tooth, Mark pulls the man out onto the rooftop. Without
missing a second, the Trespasser drops to his knees and packs away his
grappling hook and rope, stowing them with the deftness of a magician.

“
Did
it work?” asks Mark. “Did you manage to make a deal?”

“
To
cut a long story short,” the Trespasser says, breathing deep, “no. We need to
leave now, they're right behind me.”

Jamie hears it first:
the clatter of boots on wooden floorboards rumbling up through the building.

“
He's
right, we need to get going.”

“
Guys.”
Chloe stops them, pointing at the King. “What's wrong with him?”

The King is choking and
coughing on the ground, froth churning from his lips.

“
No,”
whispers Mark, diving down beside him and cradling his head like a hurt child.
“No, no, no.”

“
What
the hell is happening?” asks Chloe as the group crouch around his juddering
body.

“
Cyanide
capsule,” says the Trespasser. “There's nothing we can do, I've seen this
before.”

The false King,
grunting and spluttering, stares up at Mark one last time. Heavy red eyes
filled with malice stare into Mark's helpless gaze, and with the last of his
life he twists his froth-splattered lips into a wide, toothless smile.

The false King dies in
Mark's arms.

“
Shit,”
he whispers.

“
Did
he just kill himself?” asks Chloe, her voice small. She puts an arm on Jamie's
shoulder – he hasn't said a thing.

“
Cyanide
capsule, like I said,” says the Trespasser. “Probably embedded in a tooth or
something just in case this happened.”

“
He
knew we'd get an answer out of him eventually,” says Mark.

“
Bastard,”
says Jamie.

“
How
do you fight a man who instils this kind of fanatical devotion?” asks Mark.
“This guy was our only lead.”

The rain starts to
fall, heavier now, as the clouds settle in and lights go on across the city.
Night time is only an hour or two away.

“
We
need to leave,” says Jamie. “Now.”

“
He's
right,” says the Trespasser. “I have a parachute – I can take one person with
me if you -”

Mark holds up a hand.

“
No
need,” he says. “I came up here with a plan. There's a safe place not so far
from here -”

He is cut off by the
roar of a helicopter engine, which fades in like white noise over the spitting
rain. Over the chatter of his teeth, Jamie can hear the shouted orders of
soldiers below them, trying to negotiate Mark's path up to the roof.

“
Helicopter
is inbound,” says the Trespasser. “Decision time.”

“
I
can take you all to this place with me,” says Mark. “It's called the Gardens,
it's safe.”

“
How
do we get there -” Chloe begins, and the gleam in Mark's eye stops her.

“
The
same way we got up to the roof,” says Mark.

“
No,”
Jamie says, catching on. “Absolutely not, it doesn't work that way, this isn't
a bloody movie.”

“
Is
he talking about flying?” asks the Trespasser.

“
I
can't fly,” says Mark, “but I'm strong enough to hold all of you
and
jump
across the city,” he tries for a warm smile, “I got you up here in one piece,
didn't I?”

“
That's
different,” Jamie's voice raises in panic. “We didn't
fall,
we had
practically stopped when we landed. If we hit the ground from high up, whether
you are carrying us or not, we'll die. We aren't strong like you, Mark.”

“
We
could do it in phases?” Chloe offers, tugging on her short blonde hair. “Jump
from one roof to a nearby one, travel that way?”

Nobody replies – all
heads turn as helicopter blades murmurs like a hurricane from beyond the
distant buildings.

“
Oh
hell,” Jamie sighs, “we're going to get blown to pieces in mid-air even if we
do
jump.”

“
I
can lead them away,” says the Trespasser, standing up and checking the kit on
his webbing. “I've got a tracker in my armour – they'll follow me, then I can
scramble it and lose them. How do I get to this garden place?”

“
The
Gardens
,” Mark corrects him, “and ask any homeless you run
across. They all know.”

“
I've
got a better idea,” says the Trespasser. He pulls a small flesh-coloured tab
from a pouch and tears one side of it off like a sticker, then presses it into
the bare skin on Mark's arm. “When you get to the Gardens, push this with your
thumb. Only I can track it.”

Mark nods despite some
uncertainty.

“
We've
no time,” Chloe grabs Jamie by the arm and turns him to face her. “What are we
doing?”

Before Jamie can reply,
the whistle of a flying arrow comes from the breach in the roof and steals his
attention. They turn in time to see a second grappling hook hurl itself through
the hole, before latching onto the edge and attaching itself with a whining,
metallic scrape.

Without thinking, Mark
runs and kicks the whirring device as hard as he can, and a chunk of the roof
comes off with it, sending it clattering back down the hole. Shouting breaks
out below them, coming through the roof-hole like an echo from a sewer grating.

“
They're
here,” says the Trespasser.

“
We
have to go, now,” says Mark, opening his arms and bracing his legs. “Hold onto
me, both of you.”

“
Too
late,” says Jamie, pointing. Mark turns to see the attack helicopter, missile
pods and cannons hanging from its wings like claws, rising over the buildings.

“
Go,”
says the Trespasser, waving him away and running for the building's edge. “All
of you, go, I'll meet you at the Gardens.”

Another grappling hook
emerges, clinging onto the roof as the helicopter stops its approach. It hovers
high above them and stays there, unmoving. Chloe's hair whips into her face as
the hot wind from the helicopter's rotors hits them, carrying the smell of
burning fuel with it. Behind them, the grappling rope goes taut and begins
pulling something up.

“
Get
on your knees,”
comes the booming voice from the
helicopter,
“and put your hands on your head. You have three seconds to
comply.”

“
Jamie,”
says Mark, grabbing him and Chloe like children, “turn us invisible.”

Jamie stares at him.
“What?”

“
Turn
us invisible: that's what you do right?”

“
Two.”

He shakes his head,
trying to form the words in his mind. He knows exactly what he can do; he has
simply never said it out loud until now.

“
I
can stop time,” he says, almost as though he is telling himself. He looks down
at Chloe to find her biting her lip in fear. “That's what I do.”

“
Then
do it,” shouts Mark as the roar of the helicopter's blades drowns out his
voice.

“
Jamie,
your brain,” Chloe's voice is lost in the chaos, “you could die.”

“
Don't
worry about me,” he reassures her, rubbing her back. “It's not so hard, it's
like... like I'm a dam, and time is a river. I can do it. We don't have a
choice anyway.”

“
One.”

“
Now
or never, guys,” says Mark, and without another word the couple nestle
themselves under his scrawny arms and hold on tight.

“
Wait
until it goes quiet,” Jamie shouts over the racket. “That's how you know it's
working.”

“
I'm
ready,” Mark bends his knees, gritting his teeth.

“
Mark?”
Jamie asks as he closes his eyes, concentrating.

“
Jamie?”

“
If
anything happens to her -” Jamie murmurs.

“
I
know, I know.”

The helicopter opens
fire: it sounds like a thousand bolts of thunder striking at the same time.
Like an earthquake, the pounding of large calibre cannon rounds shake the roof,
and the gravel explodes in fountains of dirt and masonry.

Then the world snaps
into grey silence.

The Trespasser waits
until they have disappeared, and blinks twice to be sure of what he just saw.
Like a chainsaw ripping through the gravel, the helicopter's chain-guns start
to tear a path towards him.

Wasting no time, the
Trespasser leaps on to the edge of the roof and perches there, turning around
just long enough to see a squad of black-clad figures emerge through the
tunnel. He makes sure that they get a good look at him: they take aim at him
and fire, the sound of their gunshots lost in the tornado of lead and fiery
rain that is pummelling the rooftop.

The Trespasser leaps
from the roof's edge like an Olympic diver, arms spread wide and legs straight
together, and plummets like a stone as the bullets fly above his head. The air
whistles past him as he speeds towards the ground. His hand reaches back for
the parachute cord for the second time that day, and he grasps it.

He tears the cord and
the canopy blossoms behind him, swinging him forwards into the glass panelled
windows of another unfortunate building. He crashes through at high speed,
cursing and tumbling as he finds his footing amidst sparkling glass.

The whipping wind
catches the canopy and tries to drag him back into the drop. Grabbing onto a
table, he holds himself firm, draws his knife and cuts himself free of the
tangled, ruined parachute canopy. It falls away like a crumpled bag on the
breeze, freeing him like a dog let off the leash.

As he runs he checks
what little equipment he has left, navigating between the office cubicles for
the nearest stairwell.

For Mark, Chloe and
Jamie, time holds its breath. The roar of the helicopter fades like smoke on
the wind: everything is still and silent, colourless and dead. Mark looks
around, dumbfounded, until Chloe slaps his stomach.