The Village King by Eddie McGarrity

Author:Eddie McGarrity [McGarrity, Eddie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Action, Adventure, Mystery, Thriller, Suspense, Science Fiction
ISBN: 148107752X
Google: J8eckQEACAAJ
Amazon: B008U8795I
Goodreads: 21039920
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2012-08-06T04:00:00+00:00

27

All 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 at his tea. She lifted the mug up. “Any milk?”

“You killed most of our cows,” said Stephen coldly.

The Sergeant blinked acknowledgement. She put down the mug and unhooked her helmet strap, took it off and placed it on the table across from Morgan’s silver pistols, which lay with the grips facing her. She kept the rifle slung over her right shoulder but thought better of it and laid it up against the cans. Stephen introduced them all to her. He could tell she realised that if they had wanted her dead, she already would be. The Sergeant introduced herself as Lucy Pullman.

“Sit down, Sergeant Pullman,” said Stephen. “Please.”

Pullman sat down and sipped her tea. “I prefer coffee.”

Stephen smiled. He glanced up at Alana, who was leaning against the worktop and watching Pullman intently. He wanted to ask her now what she thought of the Sergeant, realising he valued her assessment and was beginning to rely on it. “Tell me about your unit.”

“Ragtag group,” said Pullman. “Some aren’t even soldiers. We pick up strays as we go along.”

Stephen thought of Phil and his two dead friends back at the farmhouse. “Are you a soldier?”

Pullman nodded. “Lancashire and Borders. Afghanistan, 2014. Back here when the virus took hold. Battle of Grangemouth.” She sat back and shrugged. The oil refinery at Grangemouth had been destroyed in a battle for control in 2016. The part she was leaving out, Stephen realised, was five years of being a Sergeant in Morgan’s Unit.

Stephen leaned forward. He looked at the silver pistols on the table, then straight at Pullman. “How would you like a promotion and some proper soldiering?”

“Depends.” She returned Stephen’s stare but she stayed sat back in her chair. “What have you got in mind?”

Stephen gestured around the room as if it were the whole village. “These are British citizens. Do your duty. Protect us. Don’t leech off us.”

Pullman thought about that. “How are you set up? Where’s Rory?”

Stephen said, “Suzanne’s in bed.

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