Kingdom: The Complete Series (54 page)

The thundercrack of the
King's punches becomes a flurry as he rains blow after blow onto an unprepared
Mark. Jamie aims and gets another shot in, but there's no point anymore; the
King is bulletproof.

Gary, wiping the blood
from his nose, reaches out with his power and forms a forcefield around the
King, trapping him. Mark falls to his knees, leaning on his fist as he fights
to get his breath back.

The King stops his
relentless assault and taps the forcefield surrounding him, then looks at Gary.

“
Go,”
mumbles Gary, starting to shake as blood pours over his chin. “Get everyone out
of here, run.”

Smiling, the King
throws a wild punch at the forcefield. Gary cries out, and falls to knees,
clutching at his head – but the field holds.

“
Gary,
let it down,” shouts Mark. “I've got the bastard.”

The King punches the
forcefield again – and again, and again, till his hands are a blur.

Gary screams, holding
the field up.

“
Gary,
stop it,” cries the Trespasser, “you'll -”

Gary coughs, and with a
wet splatter his mind tears itself apart. Blood explodes from his nose and
eyes.

Everything is blown
backwards as blue energy erupts from his body, throwing them all through desks
and computers, into walls.

Trespasser One crumples
as a desk smashes into him.

Jamie flies through the
air. He hits a stone pillar and feels something crack before he crumples to the
ground. His vision is fading, his body aching, everything is on fire. Even the
little muscle inside his mind that lets him stop time is fatigued, sore.

He groans and gets to
the his feet.

Already the King is
standing, pacing over to Gary's body. He looks down at the corpse, and gives a
smug smile before turning on the rest of them. Trespasser One is writhing on
the ground, clutching his ribs.

Mark struggles to his
feet and tries to fight the King again, stumbling towards him like a drunken
brawler. The King beats him to the floor with three rapid punches to the
abdomen, letting him fall where he stands.

Trespasser One reaches
into his webbing and pulls out a grenade, pulling the pin and staring the King
in the eye through his mask's visor. The King looks at the grenade as he walks
over, and chuckles. Leaning down over the still Trespasser, he cups his hands
around the explosive.

There he stays, staring
into his eyes, until it explodes with a muffled cough, blowing the Trespasser's
hands to pieces. Before the scream of pain can leave his mouth, the King stands
up and, as though killing an insect, stamps on his face.

The scream comes from
somewhere else – all this time, Jamie realises, Chloe has been screaming in his
earpiece. He tries to listen, but his ears are ringing – there's just sound and
noise, no coherence.

Jamie grunts and tries
to stand, still clutching the useless revolver.

As he rises, he sees
Mark get to his feet. The last two left.

Their eyes meet for a
brief moment, and through his bloodied face, Mark mouths the single word:

Run.

Then he leaps for the
King.

Jamie ducks as the two
exchange blows, every punch a deafening boom with all the weight of a train
behind it. He checks the revolver again, his tired fingers fumbling with the
mechanism.

One bullet left.

The storm of punches
has stopped. Clicking the revolver shut, Jamie peaks out from above his
overturned desk.

Mark is dangling in the
air, the King's hand around his throat, the two staring into each other's eyes.
The King carries him, kicking and struggling, over to the podium. To the
cameras.

He punches Mark twice,
hard, in the gut, doubling him over as he drops him. The King turns him to face
the camera with him, squeezing his neck in the crook of his elbow.

“
You
see?” shouts the King to the world. “You see how your best soldiers fare
against me? This is the world now. This is the way things are.”

Mark struggles,
reaching backwards for the King's eyes, only to have his grasping hands batted
away.

“
The
Kingdom has come,” says the King, smiling at the camera.

Jamie tries to stop
time.

He closes his eyes and
concentrates, and he feels the cold, tingling rush come over him, but it lasts
a second before the colour drains back into the world and time keeps running.
Blood trickles from his nostrils with the effort.

“
Tomorrow
I take my throne. Anybody still in Glasgow when the sun rises can stay. Send
your soldiers, and they will suffer the same fate as this one.”

With no ceremony, the
King grunts and wrenches his elbow upwards, snapping Mark's neck.

The drunken hero gives
a strangled cry and goes limp. Spreading his arms wide like a victorious
gladiator, the King lets Mark crumple to the ground with a heavy thud.

Jamie sinks down behind
the desk, staring into space. Numb.

Chloe is screaming in
his ear for him to run, to get out of there.

“
Chloe,”
he mumbles. “Get out of Glasgow, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I love you.”

He reaches up and pulls
the earpiece out.

The bodies of his
friends lie around him, staring at him with accusing eyes.

In front of the
cameras, the King gives a parting speech that Jamie cannot hear. All of his
senses have switched off.

He looks down at the
revolver.

One bullet left.

Last man standing.

Jamie stands up, and
walks into the middle of the room as the King finishes his speech and turns.

The King stops, and
tenses. He looks pleasantly surprised.

“
I
thought I had you all accounted for.”

“
Not
all of us,” says Jamie.

Episode
6

The
Kingdom

Jamie and the King
stand across an open field of debris and dust, surrounded by the bodies of
Jamie's friends and a dozen other unnamed journalists. The smell of blood
drifts in a haze, making Jamie light-headed and throwing his aim off. His
revolver's sight drifts over the King's head and chest, hovering for moments at
a time before trembling off in the wrong direction.

The King smiles. “You
again.”

“
Well
remembered,” says Jamie, blinking away the tiredness in his eyes, struggling to
focus. “Funny thing; when I beat you unconscious with your own gun all those
months ago, I was going to shoot you.”

“
You
should have,” says the King, “while you had the chance. Speaking of which -”
the King laces his hands behind his back, “what exactly do you plan to do with
that revolver?”

Jamie gives him a
bitter laugh. “Shoot you again?”

“
For
all the good it will do?”

Jamie closes his eyes
and sighs. “I have to do something.”

“
Do
you? It looks to me like you're a natural survivor, son.”

Jamie keeps his eyes
focused on the King's, no matter how hard the crumpled bodies of his friends
try to pull his gaze downward. The King smiles, and swaggers down from the
podium towards Jamie, who tenses and steps backwards.

The King's dark
features crease with joy.

“
You
used to work for me, right?” asks the King, stopping his advance. “J-something.
John? Jim?”

“
Jamie.”

“
Right,
right. Thief of some sort?”

“
Cars.”

“
Car
thief. Right,” the King nods, looking away. “So, you did ok under my rule
before? I imagine we gave you the standard package: a flat, an income, a
life,
you know, in return for only committing crimes we sanctioned?”

“
Yeah.”

“
Good
deal.”

“
Only
at the highest price I could afford.”

“
Insurance?”

“
Yeah.”

“
Family
member?”

“
Girlfriend.
I had to sign her into sex slavery if I broke my terms.”

“
We
have to keep control somehow, Jamie.”

“
Except
you wouldn't let me quit,” he says. “All I wanted was a normal life for me and
Chloe. That's what I promised her.”

The King looks around,
raising his hands in a shrug.

“
You
could still have that,” says the King. “Walk away. Turn and walk out the door,
go and get her and leave the city before sunrise.”

Jamie shakes his head.
“I can't.”

“
Why
not?”

“
Because
you've killed my friends,” he says, his voice turning into a harsh whisper.
“It's over for you now. I don't know how, but if it takes me the rest of my
life I
will
find a way to kill you.”

“
Good
luck.”

The two men stare at
each other. After a pause, the King raises an eyebrow.

“
You,
uh... you going to shoot me now, or what?”

Jamie looks at the
revolver again, a memory and a smile flickering across his face.

“
You
know,” he says, weighing it in his hand. “Funny thing. When I first got these
powers, I had almost no control over them.”

“
I
had that too,” says the King. “I'd rip doors off when I tried to open them. Got
this horrible feral violence boiling up inside me. I learned to control it.”

Jamie ignores him. “The
power tended to kick in just before I got hurt. A few times it kicked in
without me even realising it,” he scowls as he speaks, “like when your suicide
bomber set himself off.”

The King says nothing,
just laces his hands behind his back and watches, intrigued.

“
My
powers would kick in to save my life,” says Jamie, his voice wavering. “Now I'm
almost spent. I mean, I'm struggling to stay upright here.”

Jamie closes his eyes
and tries to focus his power again; nothing. His power splutters like a car
with a flat battery and his nose trickles blood, his temples throbbing with
pain.

“
Chances
are I'm going to die trying this anyway,” says Jamie. “So what the hell.”

“
Trying
what?”

“
In
for a penny, in for a pound,” says Jamie.

He raises the revolver
to his head and pulls the trigger.

Jamie stands in the
grey twilight, the King a statue before him, flinching at the gunshot. The
bullet has stopped halfway out of the barrel.

He drops the revolver
and rubs his head. The flow of time is already building up against his fragile
mind like a raging river, finding the cracks in his willpower.

Taking a breath, Jamie
steadies himself and keep time where it is, reinforcing the walls that hold it
back.

He sits down, cross
legged on the floor, wincing at his aching muscles and the broken rib somewhere
in his chest. Feeling at his wrist, staring into space with concentration, he
undoes his watch and lays it on the floor in front of him.

From his coat pocket,
he takes his wallet and flips through it until he finds a picture of Chloe, all
blonde curls and blue eyes, smiling out at him. He lays that beside the watch,
trying to ignore the pain building in his skull, pounding like a bass drum in
time with his heartbeat.

Jamie takes the watch
and stares at it, looking at the seconds hand: stopped completely, of course.
Staring at the watch face, he urges it backwards, thinking loud thoughts at it,
holding his breath and straining till he is bright red and trembling.

All that gets him is
another pounding headache. Blood drips from his nose, splattering across the
watch. He remembers Gary, blood spewing out his face as his brain ripped apart with
effort.

He fights for his
breath as his body tries to capitulate. His heartbeat is the loudest thing in
the silent moment, counting off every second passing by, making it harder to
focus, harder to breathe, harder to stay in his trance-like state.

Jamie almost gives up.

He looks up from the
watch in despair, and he almost gives up.

Doing so, however,
brings him face to face with the horror of his situation. Jamie looks into the
dead eyes of his friends, into the blazing, frozen pupils of the King, and he
makes his decision.

One way or another,
this is not a world that he intends to live in.

Accepting that he's
probably going to die lifts a weight off of his mind.

Jamie closes his eyes,
and looks inwards. There, he finds a river flowing steadily by, shaving seconds
off of his life like a swinging guillotine. At some point, deep within his
consciousness, it hits a solid dam of brick and mortar, and dashes hopelessly
against it: time stops there, building itself up. 

Jamie is on the other
side of that dam, a blockage in time's flow. He feels it pushing him back,
trying to break his hold on it. With every second it gets stronger, angrier. It
frightens him, the fury that is building behind that wall. It wants to bring
time to pass, to sweep over him with all the horror that the rapid passage of
years brings. It wants to sweep him up, to age him and cripple him with all the
time he has held off.

Jamie is terrified. To
push too hard is to throw himself into the abyss – his brain will tear itself
in two and he'll leave Chloe alone in a world that has the King walking free,
unstoppable.

The alternative is to
live on in a world without the only friends he's ever really known – a prospect
too bleak for him to accept.

With the abyss facing
him whichever choice he makes, Jamie centres himself and begins to push back.

His heart is racing as
though he is sprinting. Every moment aches and turns like rusted gears,
creaking as though the plates in his skull are grinding against one another.

His nose trickles
blood, and as the bitter taste hits his lips he almost loses his focus.

Almost.

Drawing in breath,
Jamie pushes harder still, feeling his brain start to pull itself apart.

He holds it, for better
or for worse.

Jamie
pushes
–
and slowly, moment by moment, second by second, time begins to yield.

The watch begins to
tick backwards.

Fifteen
Minutes Ago

Cathy walks across the
atrium to Mark.

“
Chloe
is on the comms, she says that there's a broadcast going out. It's the King.”

“
He's
in the studio?”

Cathy nods.

Gregor, the King's
right hand man, looks up at Mark and laughs.

“
Go,”
he wheezes. “Try and stop him. He'll kill you one way or another.”

“
Mark,”
whispers Cath, touching his arm. He turns around. “We're in no condition to
fight him. He nearly beat us last time, we've got men down -”

“
I
know,” says Mark. “Get everybody out of here. Get out of Glasgow. Tell Chloe to
do the same.”

Stacy looks up from
Jamie's prone form as Donald lays his hands on him. Stacy is shaking her head.

“
We
can't leave,” she says. “The King can't win after all this.”

Gregor wheezes again.
“He already has -”

Mark silences him with
a brief, brutal kick to the chest. Gregor goes limp, his head lolling forward.

“
He
isn't going to win,” says Mark. “But we're in a mess right now. Get everybody out
of Glasgow. We can come back when we're ready, when we can
win.”

It's Jamie who answers
him, sitting up with Donald's hand on his shoulder. His nose is gushing blood
and his eyes are brimming with red tears. Donald and Stacy grab him, steadying
him as he fights for breath, trying to get his words out.

“
Jamie,
relax, relax, you're ok -” begins Stacy.

“
It
worked,” he whispers, looking at them both. Stacy flinches as he pats his hand
over her face, and Donald raises an eyebrow as Jamie puts an arm around him and
pulls him close. “It bloody worked.”

“
What?
What worked?” asks Mark, perplexed.

“
I
– I don't even know how to say it. You're all real – you're all alive.”

“
Jamie,
what happened?”

“
Mark
– Mark was right,” says Jamie, “we need to get out of here, now.”

“
What?”
asks Stacy. “I thought you'd want to take the King down while we have the
chance?”

“
We
already tried,” says Jamie.

“
Yeah
that was last time though -”

“
No,
Stace,” Jamie looks her in the eye, cutting her off. “I mean, we
tried.
I
just – I just, like, came from there.”

She stops and furrows
her brow, trying to see if there's any humour in his eyes – instead she sees
more relief in his eyes than she's ever seen anywhere else.

“
Jamie,”
says Mark, walking forward. “What are you talking about?”

Jamie wipes his
bloodied nose on the sleeve of his jacket, and sees that his watch is fastened
around his wrist. He smiles.

“
I,
uh,” he says. “Yeah, I just came from the future.”

“
And
what happened?”

He stops smiling.

“
We
tried to stop the King.”

“
And?”

He looks around at
them, his friends, and sighs. “We all died.”

“
Shit,”
whispers Stacy.

“
Jamie,”
says Trespasser One, crouching beside him. “Are you sure about this? You were
just knocked out, I mean -”

“
I'm
sure, Tony. You tried to detonate a grenade when it was clear we were losing.
He put his hands around it and let you blow your own hand off – then stamped on
your head.”

The Trespasser looks
down. “Yeah that sounds about right.”

Jamie is on the verge
of tears as he tells them.

“
He
snapped Stacy's neck. Broke Cathy's spine. Donald, mate, you choked to death on
your own blood. In my own fucking arms.”