Princessa

Chapter 9 Reign of Terror

Back at the palace all the lights come on outside all along the grounds, like Disneyland, while inside the buildings it’s all dark. A guard climbs up to the top of a roof and is shot once in the chest. He falls and after a few moments you hear the thud of his body hitting the ground below.

Then an old-fashioned siren starts to wind up, like the air-raid signals they used from so many years before. The men in black clothing look at each other and one of them signals wildly with his hands for all of them to run forward now and attack. They were tipped somehow, he thinks, and it’s all lost. All of it; my men, our mission, our cause; and what can you do.

They run recklessly hurling themselves through any windows they can find but are shot repeatedly as they break through. Their leader drops down to a balcony and breaks the padlock and window glass with the butt of his carbine. For a split second he hides himself beside the stone casement, back to the wall, waiting, then turns quickly and sprays the room with the entire magazine of his gun in a flashing crossways pattern.

He dives in and runs to the door; no one there in the dark hallway; then he runs to his left grabbing at the trip-wire on his belt as he is shot over and over again. A guard sees him pull at his belt and jumps forward onto the falling body as the massive explosion rocks the entire area, shaking everything into a loud rumbling quaking shattering blackness of everything blown to pieces and crumbling down and apart like the whole world’s breaking in half and fragmenting into oblivion.

Then it’s quiet, dead, soundless in the seconds that seem like forever or like time no longer exists. No one moves, no one does anything. Police sirens wail approaching in the far off distance. “Get the lights” yells the king. Then after a few seconds, he repeats “somebody get the lights on, okay!” A member of the house staff throws a breaker in the basement and a few lights come on in parts of the buildings far away from where any of the fighting was.

Around the explosion and all the broken windows, guards and staff members stagger and struggle to get to their feet and click on flashlight beams if they still work, into the thick black dust. It’s like a scene in a mining disaster, black soot and debris raining down gently like black snow in a cave, bits of paper and cloth blowing around in newly created drafts of air, shattered wood and carpet and jagged stone with crumbling mortar showing and all out of place in the sides of walls and broken-up ceilings with ripped tapestries and wall-covering hanging down like moss; wooden beams and chandeliers at odd angles broken against the floors, shattered glass everywhere, reflecting back against the beams of the flashlights.

“Get some lanterns in here” orders Petros. He starts up the stairway carefully putting weight onto each step to see if it will hold. He looks up with his light but then looks down again as there is nothing but smoke and soot dropping down on him, into his eyes. “Vald!” he calls out as he wipes at his eyes “I want you here, beside me.”

The general has his pistol drawn, no intention of letting down his guard just because it’s quiet now. “Over here” yells the king, standing with his back in the corner of two stone walls, covered in soot, debris all around the floor. “Are you okay” asks Petros. “Yeah, let’s see about the others.”

A guard appears at the top of the steps, his uniform in tatters. Petros shines his light on the man’s blank expressionless face and calls out to him. But he has no hearing. He’s in shock and totters unevenly trying to brace himself against the wall. He reaches out his hand but there’s nothing there and his legs buckle and he falls down the stairs into the general’s arms. “Medic!” yells Petros, the words sounding funny, hurtful in his ears. This isn’t a field of battle, no medical staff to care for the wounded. “Help me” he says with the dying boy in his arms, almost in tears as the king comes over and takes the limp body from the general’s arms. “I’ve got him Bruno; I’ll find the… someone to help him.” “No; leave him… he’s… set him down; we need to see who else is up there.”

“General” yells one of his men coming into the large room “what are your orders, sir?” Again this sounds so strange in here, so out of place, in the king’s palace. “We need ambulances” he says to the man “and bomb squads; keep the police out of here… tell them to, set up a perimeter, along the fence-line.” He shakes his head, it all sounds so wrong, but he continues “tell them to keep everyone out. We need the fire department, or find some… get someone to get some extinguishers; and bring some lanterns up here!”

“It’s all being done General” reports the soldier. “Mr. Salin has already contacted them and they’re on the way. They should be here… soon. Juren is bringing the lanterns. Here he is.” A young guard rushes in carrying two brightly lit propane lanterns in each of his hands. He trips and almost falls over the debris on the floor. “Easy boy!” says Petros “there’s no hurry; we’re going to do this… slow; just relax, you’re a soldier.” “Yes my General” says the young man, bringing the lanterns over to him.

A policeman enters through the main doorway and all weapons are instantly leveled against him. “It’s okay” he says “I’m with the capitol police.” “Don’t move” says the king with a carbine pointed at the man’s head. “Turn around, go back outside and tell everyone to stand clear… except fire department, bomb squad, and medical personnel. Wait, hold on a moment, what’s your name, officer?”

“Hernan” the man replies. “Well Hernan, who’s in charge out there?” “Captain Treski. He was on duty when… tonight.” “Okay” says the king “tell Treski I want an area search of the grounds; orderly, don’t want anyone milling around. And I want all personnel searched as they enter, with positive picture ID of everybody before they come in. Okay, you got it?” “Yes sir” he says “oh, and… who are you.” The officer realizes he might need to tell his superiors who’s giving these orders. “I’m the king. A little bit dusty, but still the king.” “Okay… your majesty” says the man as he turns to leave, with a slight bow.