Battle Earth VII

Chapter 5

"And breaking news, a battle has broken out in the conference hall at the Parc des Princes stadium in Paris, the location at which Gladiatorial games took place last week. There are mixed reports that alien sympathisers were involved in what could be a terrorist act, while others say alien Mechs were in a clash that left a number of dead and wounded. More to follow."

That was what Taylor had to wake to after an afternoon kip in his suite. The comms unit on the wall was flashing and had been for several minutes, but Jafar had made no attempt to answer it. Finally, Taylor got to his feet and accepted the call, finding General White's secretary at the other end.

"Please hold for the General," she stated.

He appeared a split second later and had obviously been waiting impatiently for a response.

"What the hell is going on there, Mitch?"

"Weaver went off the rails. Released one of Demiran's Destroyers... or whatever they're called in the press conference. It went crazy. Killed him, and did its best to kill me. Got a few civilians and cops on the way."

"Christ," he said, dipping his head into his hands.

"This was supposed to be a PR stunt, and it's a fucking disaster."

He went silent as his mind mulled over the situation and tried to find some answers.

"You sure that's the way it happened? There's talk of terrorism. It'd be a lot easier to explain than our man going psychotic and getting civilians killed."

"That's how it happened, Sir."

"And you, how did you survive?"

"Barely."

"This could put us in a world of hurt. We're gonna have to shift emphasis over to Weaver. He caused this shit, so he can take the blame for it, not like the stupid idiot is around to clean up the mess. Distance yourself from this, Colonel. There's trouble coming with this POW situation. At least we have comparatively few over here."

"So that's it? Dig our heads in the sand. Pretend none of this happened and ignore it all, Sir?"

"Bet your ass that's what you're gonna do. You’re gonna stay there a few days until this situation calms down and then quietly slip out of there. Come back home, have that leave you deserve, and move on."

Sounds like a plan, he thought.

“We’re gonna chalk this one up to a failed concept and get past it. Less we hear about it now, the better. Report to me when you get Stateside.”

The transmission cut off, and Taylor could not help but feel he’d been ripped off. He’d risked his life and put everything he had into Weaver’s concept, and he’d not got as much as a compliment on his work or a thanks for his efforts.

“Nice to know my life can be gambled on a clever idea, isn’t it?” he asked Jafar.

The alien grunted and seemed to be indifferent.

“Yeah, that’s right. You like fighting, and death means nothing to you. Great.”

There was no response.

“Is there no way to get a rise out of you? Nothing I can do that will ever piss you off enough to get angry?”

“Why would you?”

“Curiosity, maybe.”

The sarcasm was lost on him, and the room was left in silence.

“This is a fucking disaster, all that work and effort, and for what? We’re stuck over here having risked our lives for nothing. Bring back the wars, I say. I’ll take them any day over this misery.”

He knew Jafar would agree, anyway. He always agreed fighting was favourable over all else.

“I’ve had enough of this. There’s not even a thing to drink in here. Let’s find a bar.”

“And the General’s orders?”

“The last orders I got from the General almost got us killed. He’s cutting all ties with this. As long as we get back home in the next few weeks, he’ll be happy. All the years we fought over this country, and yet it seems we don’t have a friend left in it.”

Taylor stripped off his armour and was glad to be free of it. His BDUs still displayed the dried blood around the collar from his fight before, but he didn’t care anymore. They strode out of the suite to find no one before their door. Not a guard to protect them, nor keep them in place.

“From celebrity to forgotten in five minutes. Can’t say I’m complaining,” he stated.

Ten minutes later they were walking into a nearby bar, in what felt like a repeat of the events that had led to the brawl and subsequent night in police cells so recently. Exactly as before, many of the patrons turned to stare at them, Jafar in particular. Taylor sighed at how boring this scenario was becoming.

“Yes, he is an alien. I am Colonel Mitch Taylor and this is Jafar, one of my most loyal colleagues. If you have a problem with any of this, then make it known now! Otherwise, should you say nothing and then cowardly make an attempt against…”

He drew his pistol and held it up for all to see.

“I’ll shoot the first bastard who lays a hand on either one of us and not hesitate to shoot a few more. We did not fight over this country to put up with any bullshit. Now, can we sit down and enjoy a few beers?”

“Of course, Monsieur Taylor!” yelled the man behind the bar.

“Makes a change,” he muttered to Jafar.

Grunts of approval echoed around the room, and several beckoned for them to come forward. It was the warmest welcome Taylor had ever gotten when Jafar was by his side.

“It’s an honour to have you here, my friend,” said the barman, “and this friend of yours we hear so much about. I don’t know why you fight for us, but I thank you.”

He passed two beers over the counter and didn’t ask for any payment. Taylor was speechless.

“My brother said he met you once during the war. You would not remember him, but he certainly remembers you.”

“Where did he serve?”

“All over, a trainee doctor he was then, volunteered as a field medic.”

“And now?”

“Army doctor, he made it a career!”

Taylor had been waiting to hear the bad news that he had been killed in the fighting there, as so many stories he heard around the World. He was already starting to like the place.

“Paris is a lot easier to like when you aren’t having to fight over it,” he replied.

The Frenchman nodded in agreement. In the background a TV projection was running, and a nearby patron called over in French. He was obviously asking for the volume to be raised. Taylor looked and saw he was once again on air.

It was his speech from the conference hall moments before the battle with the Destroyer. The bar fell quiet as they watched it, realising it was the man sitting before them. Taylor’s name had become widely known worldwide, but few would recognise his face.

The video came to an end with the screams in the room, and the signal cutting off and returning back to the news anchor speaking in French, of which Taylor understood nothing.

“What are they saying?” Taylor asked.

The barman looked uncomfortable, continued watching, and tried to translate as it went on.

“They are saying you are creating…divides, amongst different groups. Some are calling you a hero and humanitarian, and others, a coward and alien sympathiser…”

“Figures.”

“Seems like you have created quite a stir.”

“And you, what do you think?”

The man looked surprised to be asked his opinion at all.

“I…I don’t know. I wanted peace for my country. Beyond that, I don’t care. If people want to watch fighting on TV, then let them.”

It wasn’t a particularly helpful response.

“So, look here a second,” Taylor said, pointing to Jafar.

“This is Jafar, an alien, a good friend of mine, and worth more than a platoon of fighters from most armies in the World. Do remember he is an alien? What we are saying here is, he is really no different from one of us. He fought for us, lives with us. Would you have him fight to the death in the arena and be butchered like an animal?”

The barman looked confused and sheepish.

“I don’t know. It’s not my place to say.”

“But it is! Watch the TV. It’s public opinion which is deciding what we should do next.”

“Maybe, Monsieur, but are you sure anyone really cares about public opinion that much?”

It was food for thought. The report was still on going, and the barman continued to translate for him.

“They are saying it was an alien who got loose at the stadium and caused many deaths, and that local authorities subdued the creature.”

“Local authorities?” Taylor laughed.

“They say there are growing calls to eradicate all remaining Krys on Earth, in an attempt to remove the threat to the public. Apparently, a number of leaders have signed a charter pushing for it at the UEN.”

“Shit, this is really kicking off.”

They heard a bottle smash at their side, and three angry looking locals approached.

“How’d we know this one wasn’t in that stadium killing humans?” one asked.

“He was there all right, saving lives.”

“I don’t like Krys, and I don’t like enablers like you. You’re a disgrace to our race.”

Taylor had heard enough. He drew his pistol and fired a shot through the man’s leg. He cried out in pain. His leg gave way, and he dropped to the floor, screaming in pain. The other two men went to move forward but stopped, finding themselves staring down the barrel of his gun.

The rest of the room had silenced, and all that could be heard were the man’s screams. Everybody was too shocked to go to his aid immediately and could only stand in amazement at what had happened.

“Monsieur, please, that’s enough,” pleaded the barman.

Taylor knew that anyone else from his unit would have held him back, but Jafar simply stood and waited for a response from the rest of the crowd. Mitch knew it was an extreme measure, but he had become sick of the constant harassment everywhere they went.

“You know everywhere we go we have to put up with the same assholes. Doesn’t matter what country, what city. Does nobody care that this alien fought on our side, that he was vital to our efforts in defeating them? That you can sit here today and enjoy your drinks because he was at my side fighting?”

There was no response, though a few lowered their heads in shame.

“No one else here feels that way, but you can’t just go shooting people,” said the barman.

“The people wanted to see blood. They got blood…I never wanted this. All I wanted was to go home and get on with my life, but at every turn there’s an asshole like this. Enough!” he screamed.

He knew he was losing it, but he could not help himself through the anger he felt towards so much of the World that had turned on him and his friend because they were no longer needed, because there was no longer a war to fight.

Sirens rang out in the background; the local police were bearing down on the establishment. Taylor necked the beer and walked out with Jafar at his back. Two police cars slid to a halt, but the officers relaxed when they recognised the two of them.

“We’ll handle this,” said one and allowed them to pass.

“Nice to still have a few friends,” he replied.

At least that wouldn’t make the news, he thought.

They returned to his suite. Taylor knew it was the only place they would remain trouble free as the General had ordered. Another day passed, and they tried to find anything to do to pass it. The stadium grounds were their prison for now, but they made the best of the space they had. Running, training, watching TV; it was all they had. On the morning of the second day, they were in the field grounds at one end away from the arena Taylor had fought it. They’d dug out a baseball and bat, and Taylor was throwing curve balls that Jafar was hitting so hard, they occasionally cracked the protective screens around the arena where he was aiming. It was all they could do for another few days until they could get out of there. Just when they thought they’d been left alone to pass the time, Taylor heard his name shouted.

“Colonel! Colonel!”

One of the Gendarmes he’d seen in the conference hall during the fateful event with the Destroyer was rushing towards him.

“Great, what now?” he muttered.

“Sir, I think you should see the news.”

Taylor lifted his Mappad, switched on the projection display, and hit the shortcut to the World News Agency. The screen was filled with protest banners and scenes of mass crowds.

“Where is this?”

“At one of the prisoner camps in North Africa, but there are scenes like this at another dozen locations.”

“What do they want?”

“To exterminate the remaining alien prisoners on the planet.”

“What?”

“Can’t say I blame them, Sir. Those things are fucking dangerous, save your friend here.”

He continued watching the news broadcast for a few minutes in amazement as the anchor continued to appraise the situation.

“While opinion is divided on the subject, it is up to the UEN now to come to some agreement on the subject of the alien prisoners. Pressure has mounted over coming years on action to take, but the UEN is yet to implement any initiative beyond maintaining the Prisoner of War camps. Many people around the World are beginning to question if money and resources should be allocated to an enemy which once tried to destroy humanity.”

“This is gonna get ugly,” said Taylor.

The day continued much as the previous had. Nobody seemed interested in reaching Taylor since the debacle at the stadium, that or they simply didn’t know how. Taylor took off his uniform and lay down on the ridiculously oversized and lavish bed in his suite. He dreaded waking up the next morning. He knew trouble was coming, and there was no doubt he would be drawn into it.

As the sun rose, he awoke naturally. For a moment, everything seemed peaceful. The World hadn’t ended, and he’d caught up on some much needed rest and recovered from his minor injuries, but the pleasant morning wouldn’t last. A chime rang to signify somebody at the door, and Jafar was quick to answer it. It was almost as if the alien had defaulted to being his butler and manservant, a situation he was not comfortable with.

The door slid open, and the same Gendarme who had delivered yesterday’s news rushed in.

"Sir, I really must warn you. Crowds are gathering outside the stadium and protesting your presence."

"What are their intentions?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Thank you for your concern, and please keep me notified of any further developments."

The man nodded in agreement. Taylor wondered why he was delivering messages in person rather than through comms. He wondered if he was going outside of his job parameters, as he rushed out as quickly as he had come in.

"I don't like the sound of this at all."

He turned back to the news channel. A Spanish politician was being interviewed, and the topic was clearly the Colonel himself, for a picture was projected behind the news panel.

"What do you think of Colonel Taylor's latest condemnation of the treatment of the alien prisoners after having so recently brutally killed them for entertainment?"

"I think the Colonel is most mistaken in his apathy for these monsters. Maybe he is disillusioned with the bloodshed, or maybe mentally scarred from all that he has seen. No one can deny his great efforts during the war, but Taylor is very much that, a war machine, one which should stay out of politics."

"Strong words, and now onto Miss Patricia Nowak, a key representative in the Earth for Humans movement. What's your feeling on Colonel Taylor's surprise comments in Paris that have sparked so much controversy?"

"The Colonel’s comments were way out of line. He of all people should understand the threat these invaders pose, and while he may have been a hero a few years ago, people change. His latest actions are those of a coward."

Taylor cut the transmission off. He couldn't listen to it any longer.

"How quickly they turn on you," he whispered.

He felt helpless now that they were shut away in the stadium. Then he remembered Armand and shuffled through his pocket to find the Councillor's card. He pulled out his Mappad and slipped it into the reader. His credentials came up and were immediately authenticated. His hand hovered over the contact button. A man he'd never met, and he was going to reach out to him for, well he didn't know what.

"What the hell," he said and put the call through.

Taylor was surprised to see Armand's face. It was a direct line to the man personally.

"Colonel Taylor, what can I do for you?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but you must be aware of what's happening in the World. Something has to be done, and no one Stateside is interested."

"Stay put, Colonel. I'll come to you."

Taylor was surprised at the response and speechless for a moment.

"That...would be great."

"I'll see you shortly, Colonel."

The call ended, and Taylor put the news back on. He hated having to watch it but knew he had to stay abreast of everything that was happening. More scenes of protests filled the screen, and a reporter was being shoved around as she tried to talk into the camera.

"I'm here at the entrance to the Gafsa Prisoner of War Camp in Tunisia. Home to as many as ten thousand enemy soldiers, it is one of the larger prisons, and as a result, a massive draw to people calling for an end to their lives. Around five thousand protestors have gathered here so far, with more arriving every hour. People are calling for something to be done, but the authorities are nowhere to be seen, in a standoff which is looking increasingly dangerous for all involved."

Screams rang out, and Taylor heard the sound of two gunshots in the background. The camera turned to show a protestor fall from one of the perimeter fences. The video shook around as the crew tried to get closer and managed to get a partially obscured view of the man getting to his feet and looking in pain.

"It looks as if non-lethal ammunition has been authorised to be used against anybody who makes an attempt on the perimeter of this massive complex. Attempts are also being made to sway incoming pilots bringing in supplies to turn away, of which we have seen a few do so. Everyone here is looking for the authorities to do something. I am now hearing reports that pro-life alien sympathisers have also started demonstrations nearby."

"Look at them," said Taylor. "At each other's throats, and over what?"

"They are right, though. You can't keep that many enemy soldiers locked up forever."

"What would you suggest? We can't free them. They are the enemy. We can't kill them. That would be barbaric. And we can't send them home, as even if it was logistically possible, we can't return troops who would likely be sent right back against us."

"Death is the kindest option," Jafar replied quickly.

He was starting to see it wasn't as simple a problem to sort out as he first thought.

Death does indeed seem like the answer, but it’s also the kind of genocide humanity has fought so hard against.

"Can we not sway them to our side, or at least live in peace, like you and I?" he asked.

Jafar looked highly doubtful.

"Would you risk it? A potential army let loose in the World in order to keep your conscious clean?"

"So this is it? The answer is to become like them and commit genocide so that we can live the lives we want to? I don't accept that."

A minute later, Armand was at the door. Taylor was surprised he could get there so quickly. He could see no reason why he'd been at the stadium unless he had been waiting for his call.

"How can I help you, Colonel?"

"You must have seen the news."

"Yes, and very disturbing it is, too."

"It's time we did something about it."

That tweaked the Councillor’s interest, and it almost seemed as if he'd been waiting for days for Taylor to come out with such words of his own accord.

"As part of my duties in the UEN, I have been asked to head to Tunisia to some of the worst of these protests, and see if I can do anything to quell them peacefully. Having a famous face such as yours by my side could make all the difference. Your comments on TV have gained substantial support. Maybe not with everyone, but enough."

"And you think a marine could calm the environment down? It's not what we're intended for."

"I think you have forgotten your true purpose, Colonel. A marine fights for peace, not the continuation of war."

"Mmm," he muttered in response.

"Things are looking bad in North Africa. Will you give it a shot, and come with me or not?"

Anything to get out of here.

"Yes."

"Great, then there's no time to lose. Let's move."

He really has been waiting for my call.

Armand led them to the stadium grounds where a ship awaited them. It was a luxurious yacht and far from the simple military vessel the Deveron was. He seemed to be whisked away into yet another world he was unfamiliar with.

It was a short journey to Gafsa, and as they approached, Taylor could see a swarm of people at the perimeter walls. They flew right over the masses of civilians and came down to a landing pad just inside the walls. As the engines powered down, they could already hear the screams of the crowd even through the reinforced glass.

“This ain’t gonna be easy,” said Taylor.

“If it was an easy job, I’d not have got you on board,” replied Armand.

“That’s reassuring.”

They headed down the ramp out into the warm open air where the crowd’s roars drowned out almost everything. A small party that was armed greeted them on the landing strip, including the prison warden, an army officer of the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. He instantly recognised Taylor and was uneasy in how to take his presence.

“Lieutenant-Colonel Spiteri, I hope you boys have some answers here because this is becoming a real shit storm!” he yelled.

They could barely hear him over the sound of the heckling crowds.

“Follow me!”

They did as he asked, and Taylor leaned in to Jafar.

“Why do we always end up in the shit?”

“Because you volunteer us,” he replied.

Taylor wasn’t sure if he was being straight or exhibiting sharp wit, but it made him laugh, either way. They passed beyond several guards into an operations room where the rest of the Colonel’s staff were largely standing around with nothing to do, except talk among themselves. No one even called them to attention as the base commander entered, and it was already clear to Taylor that it was run as a very loose ship.

Spiteri beckoned for them all to join him and the newcomers at the operations table, which was blank. It was an indicator of how little they had done in any efforts to quell the problem.

“Gentlemen, this is Councillor Armand who is here to oversee negotiations with the protestors. As a representative of the UEN, he has complete access to the site and is accountable only to me. Colonel Taylor of the US Marine Corps is here as an advisor to Armand. I expect you to extend all courtesies to the Councillor and his associates. Right, now down to business.”

A live satellite projection displayed on the table, showing both the vast breath of the prison, as well as the shocking large numbers of protestors which were gathering.

“The number of protestors is growing at an incredible rate. When it first began, we expected them to become tired in a day of the heat without supplies, and pack up and leave.”

“Why hasn’t that happened?” Taylor interrupted.

“Because of the aid they have been getting. Shuttles deliver supplies on an hourly basis, bringing them food and water, instant shelters, and mobile toilet and shower blocks. Somebody with big money is keeping this going.”

“Or many people with a lot of money,” Taylor added.

“It’s sad but true,” said Armand, “There are sizeable numbers opposed to what is going on here who would be willing to pour money into other’s pockets to oppose it for them.”

“And people used to protest against people being kept in these kind of prisons,” muttered Taylor.

“That’s right, Colonel. They protested about people being locked up, but this is an entirely different story. If you hadn’t noticed, aliens exist and want our planet,” said Spiteri.

Taylor wondered if the man knew who he was and his history in the wars, but before he could ask, attention was turned to the elephant in the room.

“And please can someone tell me what the hell he is doing in uniform, and with a US Marine?”

One of Spiteri’s men leaned in and whispered in his ear.

“Okay, so you’re that Taylor, a war hero. Well, let me tell you, I saw plenty of combat in the war myself, and I would never in a million years let one stand beside me and call a comrade.”

“Be thankful I am not you then, or we might not have won this war.”

Tension was getting to boiling point in the room, and no progress was being made, but Taylor didn’t travel there to make idle argument.

“The local government must be doing something to alleviate the troubles here?” he asked.

Spiteri shook his head. “I wish. The war destroyed the populace in this area, one of the reasons it made such a good prison. A few thousand have moved back into a nearby town, but they are little more than a frontier site, like something out of your history. A sheriff and his deputies trying to manage the locals; they can’t do a thing to help here.”

“And the UEN?”

They all turned to Armand.

“The UEN is willing to consider deployment, only if wide-scale violence is a likely possibility. Besides that, I am all that you’re gonna get.”

“And what are you worth?” asked Spiteri. “Can you talk this horde down and make them go back home and forget all of this?”

“I’ll give it a shot.”

“A group that says they are in charge out there has been calling for a representative to meet with them for the last few hours.”

“Good, that’s a start.”

“I’m not going out there, and I won’t risk my men doing so.”

What a fucking hero, Taylor thought.

“Fine, I’ll go out there. Two of my bodyguards, and I’ll take Colonel Taylor with me.”

“And what about his…friend there?”

Armand looked over to the towering alien and then over to Taylor.

“We can’t take him. He’ll only pour gas on the flames. He can stay here. I’m sure Colonel Spiteri will ensure his safety.”

Taylor almost laughed but held himself back.

Not his safety you have to worry about.

He nodded for Jafar to stay put, and it was a message clearly understood as he paced out into the blistering sun with Armand and his guards.

“You really have a plan here?” he asked.

“It’s all just a game, Colonel. Hear what they have to say, and find a way to oppose it.”

“Not really a negotiation, is it?”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

The inner gates opened and shut quickly behind them. They were sealed off from the base now, with only four of them soon to be heading out into an angry mob.

“We’re coming out to negotiate!” Armand shouted.

“Not with weapons you’re not!” one replied.

They looked out at the overwhelming odds. He looked back to Taylor for an answer and saw the Colonel shaking his head.

No goddamn way.

They stood there silently until the protestors at the gate accepted it was the only way they would see some progression. The gates slid aside, and they stepped out into the hostile crowd who seemed as if they wanted to kill the four of them as much as the aliens inside.

They were led through the crowd, hundreds of men and women who glared at them as if they were criminals. Taylor hated the way they peered down at him.

The only reason you’re alive today is because I fought for you.

But he fought the desire to say it aloud with all his fibre.

They eventually reached a structure. Internally, it was not so different to the operations room he’d recently left. A dozen men and women stood around a table, planning and discussing their actions.

“More like a military operation than a protest,” he said to Armand.

“That’s right, Colonel!” one of them replied, overhearing him.

“And you are?” he asked

“My name is of no consequence. You can call me X.”

You’re wearing the pants here, then.

“My name is…” began Armand.

“We’re not interested in your name. Our demands are this; the instant euthanization of all prisoners of this facility and all others like it. That is the only thing we ask. We will not accept anything less and require nothing more. Are you ready to provide what society is calling for?”

“I am willing to negotiate the matter, but there has to be some give and take. Let’s start from a middle ground and work this out,” said Armand.

“You heard what I said. What part did you not hear?”

Armand seemed speechless as she turned her attention to Taylor.

“Colonel, we know who you are, a great hero of the wars. You must have killed so many of the invaders, do you not want to see an end to this?”

“An end? Yes, I thought I saw this when we won peace on this planet. We, and those who fought for it,” he replied.

One of the protestors stepped forward, yelling at him. “I was there the day you killed Demiran and saw it with my own eyes. I served, I fought, I killed, and for what? It isn’t over. We want life back to the way it was!”

“Then I am sorry to say that this negotiation is over. We are wasting time if you are not willing to discuss the matter in a civilised fashion,” Armand replied sternly.

Taylor was surprised by his attitude. He appeared to have come there to resolve the problem, and yet seemed to have no interest in doing so.

“Then leave, and return to the living joke you call a detention centre,” X quickly responded.

Armand turned and left without another comment.

Is he gonna fight for this?

The answer appeared to be no as he carried on. The Colonel was left with no choice but to leave with him. All they passed as they headed for the gates were constantly heckling them. Finally, a punch was thrown at one of Armand’s guards, and he almost fell to the sand before lifting his weapon to his attacker.

Rocks began to pelt the guards from nearby protestors, and one hit the guard who have been shoved and broke his nose. It sent blood spewing over his uniform. He turned back to the crowd and saw more rocks hurling towards him. He opened fire.

“No!” Taylor called out desperately.

It was too late. The rounds were non-lethal but struck with immense force, and the people took it as red to attack. Several drew weapons, and one launched forward with a machete and struck down on the arm of the shooter. It cut deep and halfway through his forearm, but even that was not enough to bring it all to an end. The other guard had joined the fighting, and those within the perimeter had been monitoring the trouble and began to respond.

The non-lethal ammunition seemed to do little to hold back the crowd, many of who seemed to carry on as if nothing had struck them. Taylor could just make out the sound of notice being given over the tannoy system, warning of lethal force being authorised, and that did nothing to calm them.

Two of the angry mob came at him, and he had to fight every instinct that told him to draw his pistol and defend himself. Human blood was the last thing he wanted on his hands. He knew he must rely on his body for defence and the power the Reitech suit gave him. He struck the first with a punch that sent the man tumbling back into his friends.

A woman then came at him like a screaming banshee and wielding a truncheon-like weapon. He took hold of her and launched her into the mob the other side. He looked down to see Armand trying to stop the bleeding of the wounded bodyguard while the other fired wildly to keep them back. Clearly, his ammunition wasn’t going to last long. Before Taylor could come up with a solution, gunfire rang out from the prison and ripped into the mass of people.

Some of them froze in panic while others charged at the fences, but it was a pointless act. Taylor could do nothing but watch in horror as dozens of the protestors were struck down by live ammunition. Then the path to the gates became clear, and he snapped back into action. It was his opportunity. He reached down and hauled the wounded man up as if he weighed nothing at all.

“Move!” he ordered Armand.

As they rushed for the gates, several of the armed protestors tried to get at them but were hit by aimed shots of the guards at the walls and watchtowers who covered their retreat. By the time they reached the perimeter gate, there was nobody on their trail, and they could see Spiteri waiting and watching behind the inner perimeter.

“Stop firing!” Taylor called to him.

He seemingly ignored the comment until they had got through the gates.

“Attend to that man!”

Taylor passed him over to medics and looked back. A few shots were still being made as the crowd tried to retreat but could not make it through the dense wall of their own people.

“Cease fire!” he finally yelled. He’d waited beyond a reasonable time, as a message to Taylor that he ran the place. “Send medics out and aid the wounded!”

Mitch looked out across the plain and could see a hundred bodies of the dead and wounded on the ground. This was a disaster, and he knew they would pay dearly for it. He wasn’t sure how he’d got out from the mob, but he knew there would have been a better way.

“You just screwed us all,” he said to Spiteri.