Highschool of the dead: The British Outbreak
Chapter 2: Besides the Dying light...
Fred
Eton Hall
Outskirts of Chester
Z-day
11:24
"Come on! Come on!"
"Keep going!"
"Just hang on Brad."
Fred and Fhajad did their best to run while carrying their injured friend Bradley between them, one of his arms around each of their shoulders. Fred spared a glance back over his shoulder. He wasn't sure if the one's who'd attacked them were still following, but he couldn't see them. Bradley coughed harshly, spitting some blood as he did.
"Put me..." cough, "Put me down." He said. Fhajad looked over at Fred and he nodded. They slowed from their speeded pace to a walk before laying him down in the shade of an ancient cedar tree. As they paused to catch their breath, Fred thought about what had happened.
They'd been kicking a football about on a field outside their village when a random man had come towards them. They thought it was the field's owner coming to ask them what they were doing on his property so Brad had gone to talk to him. Next thing they know Brad was on the ground screaming as the man attacked him and bit him. Fred had managed to drag Brad away while Fhajad had attacked the man with stones. They'd got him away and patched up the bloody wound with their jumpers, but Brad had been getting worse. They'd tried to call the police or an ambulance but their calls weren't getting through. Then more people had come and they tried to attack them, they'd been running ever since.
Fred was brought from his musings by the sound of more pained coughing. He moved to Bradley's side. Fhajad was already there with their only water bottle in hand. Bradley was going from bad to worse. His skin had turned pale and his lips were turning blue. His breathing was labored and the bite had bled through the hoody that was serving as an improvised dressing.
"How are you feeling mate?" asked Fred.
"Not good," wheezed Brad. Fhajad looked over at him.
"We can't move him anymore." He said, "We need to get help."
"Right." Said Fred. "You stay here and take care of him. I'll go get help."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Fhajad, "You might not be able to find us again." It was a reasonable point. Fred had a quick look around, briefly moving away from the group to get an alternative view of the surrounding area. He spotted something sticking up above the tree line. He moved back to Fhajad and Brad.
"There's some kind of stone tower over there." He said, gesturing towards the general area of the point. "I can work back here from there."
"Ok." Said Fhajad. "Be careful." Fred flashed his signature grin.
"Hey. It's me."
Before Fhajad could reply, Fred was moving off deeper into the forest. He walked in the direction of the thing he'd spotted above the tree line, taking note of various terrain features so he could find his way back. After a minute of walking, he came to the edge of the forest. He looked over a large grassy meadow, with a paved road going through it with another curving off. In the center of the meadow, atop a small mound was a large square pillar.
'An obelisk 'Fred recalled, remembering the name from a history project on ancient Egypt. As to what one was doing in the middle of North West England he didn't know or care. What he cared about most, was what was beyond it; a large mansion like building with large black gates, and four black clothed men standing by it. There was only one thing stopping Fred from rushing to them for help, was the large amount of people who were moving towards the gate.
These people moved just like the ones who'd attacked Brad; clumsy and slow.
Fred kept quiet, trying to avoid being heard by any of the people that were moving in on the gate. There were too many to count, but they were spread over a large area. No way he could get through them to the people by the gate without being detected.
The sound of an approaching car made Fred look over to the right. A large black pick up was coming down the road towards the gate, in the back were 4 or 5 men dressed in black, armed with guns. Fred stood up and ran towards the road, waving his arms out and calling for help. The pickup skidded to a stop and one of the people on the back jumped off.
"Look mate I need..." Fred was cut short by the man raising his gun on him. "Whoa! Don't shoot! Don't..."
The man fired his rifle twice. Fred was silent for a second, before looking down at his body. No blood. He looked down his body and felt himself for bullet holes. Finding none he looked back at the man, then behind him. There was one of them on the ground dead. Fred let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"You ok kid?" asked the man.
"Y... Yeah." Said Fred. "Listen my friends are out in the woods and one's hurt real bad..."
"He bit?" asked another man from the back of the pickup.
"Bit? Yeah. He's not doing good..."
"He's as good as dead kid." Said the first man. "Get in and lets go."
"But... my other friend is with him. He's not bit." The first man looked back at the pickup for a second before turning back to Fred.
"Show me." He said. Fred turned and started jogging back towards the forest, the armed man following.
"So how'd you find this place?" asked the man.
"We were playing footy when this guy attacked us." Replied Fred. "After Brad got hurt, we called 999, but it couldn't get through."
"Shit like that's happening all over." Said the man. "I never got your name."
"Fred. You?"
"Martin. What's your friends names?"
"Brad. He's the sick one. And Fhajad." They came through the trees to where Brad and Fhajad were. Brad was still, his eyes closed and not moving, Fhajad was sitting on a rock nearby, keeping watch.
"He fell unconscious," he glanced at his watch, "3 minutes ago. I tried to keep him awake but he slipped under. Who's he?"
"Martin, Fhajad. Fhajad, Martin." Fred introduced. He looked away from Brad and looked back at Martin.
"Anything you can..." He was interrupted by the report of Martin's rifle discharging a round into Brad's forehead.
"DUDE! What the hell?!" shouted Fhajad. Fred dived at the man furious only for the man to catch him and toss him aside.
"Look kids." He said straight, "There was nothing we could have done for him. We've already seen the bitten turn, even if we gave him something he was still fucked. That was the only mercy left for him." He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in.
"Look. This is the Duke's place and were about to evacuate him and his family to Chester. I can probably find you a seat in the truck if you want it."
Fred and Fhajad looked at each other. They both wore expressions with a mix of disgust, sorrow and anger. Fred looked back at Martin with a look of pure hate.
"Not like we've got anywhere else to go." He said incredulously.
"Alright then." Said Martin. "Come on. Before any more of them show up." Martin started walking back. Fred and Fhajad shared a look, before they started following.
Jason
Chester City walls
Bridge Gate
14:22
Jason rolled his shoulders for what seemed like the first time in hours, his bones emitting a satisfying click. He and the rest of fireteam Bravo were stationed on the city walls, covering the bridge from above while the police did their work below.
When they'd got here they'd been greeted by a police Sergeant in riot gear along with a dozen similarly clad officers. They were manning a checkpoint under the cover of the gate, made up of a wire fence and 2 tents in which people were being checked for bites before being admitted inside. The Sergeant had posted them on the wall, unsure where to place the armed teenagers
Over the last few hours, there had been a steady line mass of people coming in, none of them had shown, but there had been a few people who had tried to force their way in. The police had handled them. Now though, the people had all but stopped coming, which in Jason's mind left 2 possibilities;
Everyone from the surrounding area had gone to other refugee areas or was inside.
Or, more worryingly;
Everyone who had come in was all that was left.
Jason's thoughts on the matter were interrupted by his radio crackling.
"Mike-Zero-Seven- Bravo, this is Zero. Radio Check. Over." Jason clicked radio's transmit button and replied,
"Hello Zero, this is Mike-Zero-Seven- Bravo. Loud Clear. Over."
"Mike-Zero-Seven- Bravo, this is Zero. Report to ops for re-tasking over."
"Hello Zero, this is Mike-Zero-Seven- Bravo. Rog', WILCO. Out." Jason killed the radio and called out;
"Bravo! Let's Rock and Roll!"
Ethan and Nathan started descend to street level, Naomi hesitated.
"Today Dyer!" called Jason. Naomi huffed and started walking, still a way behind the rest. The walk to the ops area took them through the city center's streets.
The shops and restaurants that lined the streets were open, but not in their normal capacity. They were open as refugee centers. Refugees were sitting in their doorways seeking whatever shelter wherever they could. Some of the restaurants were even cooking and serving food for their desperate patrons. But everywhere they looked, each member of Bravo got the same looks of fear, anger and hatred.
"What did we do to them?" whispered Nathan.
"Nothing." Said Naomi, positively booming compared to Nathan's whisper. "They're all just sad, pathetic people."
"Maybe you'd be the same if you'd lost everything and weren't in a position of power." Jason shot back at Naomi. "Now do me a favour and shut up Dyer."
The rest of the walk was spent in silence. The building that was being used as the military HQ for Chester was, fittingly enough, Chester Castle which housed within it, the military museum of the Cheshire Regiment. They came to the door and were stopped by a sentry.
"Wait here." Jason told his team as he went inside with the sentry. After clarifying his business at the military command post for the ongoing crisis, the sentry ordered him to follow a civilian aid who was presumably someone who worked at the museum. He was lead up a flight of stairs to a carpeted corridor which, while free of refugees, was full of soldiers and civilian aids ferrying equipment and furniture between the museums administrative offices. The aid lead Jason to a closed door with a blind covered window and a brass plaque with the words 'regimental historian' engraved on it. Jason knocked at the door.
"Enter." Said a voice from inside. Jason opened the door and stepped into the office. As well as Squadron Leader Marsden, the room was occupied by a trio of teenage cadets, 2 Sergeants and a Corporal. One of the Sergeants and the Corporal were army cadets, discerned by their green berets and the 2 headed eagle of the Mercian regiment. The final Sergeant was a tough as nails looking female Royal Marine Cadet. They all looked at the Jason, Jason glanced back at them, giving them the subtlest of nods before coming to attention and saluting Marsden who sat behind the office desk.
"Glad you could join us Corporal Rees." Said Marsden. He motioned to the other cadet NCO's in the room. "This is Sergeant Birch and Corporal Moore, Army cadets. Sergeant Hawkins, Royal Marine cadets."
"Pleasure." Said Birch raising a hand to Jason.
"Likewise." He said, shaking the offered hand. He did the same for the other NCO's before Marsden interrupted.
"Now that we've got the pleasantries done, we've got business to do." The cadets focused on Marsden as he continued.
"Over the last few hours, we've more or less picked up the majority of the refugees from this area. Other camps in the Chester area are reporting that the number of help seekers has begun to dry up too and we've realised, it's far too few to make up the majority of the population of the area."
"How many are we talking sir?" asked Moore, scribbling notes on a small notepad.
"We've picked up about 2000 people, Blacon have about 1500 and Broughton about the same." Replied Marsden. Jason did the maths and quickly came to a horrifying conclusion.
"Sir," he said, "There are about 100,000 people living in Chester. Are you saying we've only accounted for about 5% of the local population?"
"That's exactly it Corporal." Said Marsden. "Even discounting people who work out of town or are away, we're still missing a lot of people."
"And you want us to go and find them." Guessed Hawkins.
"I was getting to that Sergeant but yes." Said Marsden, "You 4 are going to be leading your fireteams on recce missions into the surrounding residential areas. If you find civilians, bring them back. Any other threats you are free to deal with as you see fit. Birch, you've got Vickers Cross. Moore, you've got Hoole. Hawkins, Handbridge, Rees, you've got Lache. Search as long as you can but be back within the walls by 18:00. Any questions?"
"Sir." Said Moore, "Why are they sending us and not the police or regular army?"
"All police units are protecting and maintaining order in the local refugee camps. Military units are either doing the same at other camps or protecting vital infrastructure. So you're it. That a problem?"
"No sir."
"Good. Anything else?"
"Sir." Jason spoke up. "I have some troubles regarding my team. Particularly with Dyer and Joyce."
"What about them?"
"Dyer follows orders hesitantly and reluctantly, and answers back at every opportunity she gets. If it hits the fan I see her being more of a liability than an asset. Joyce... he's a great cadet and I trust him sir, but he's only just turned 13. I'm worried that he won't be able to keep up physically, and what putting down an infected would do to him."
Marsden considered this for a moment before replying.
"I understand your concerns Corporal, but we haven't got time to adjust the teams. You're team and orders stand."
"Sir." Acknowledged Jason.
"Anything else?" Marsden asked,
The NCO's remained silent.
"Well then good luck. Dismissed."
The NCO's saluted and left the room one after another. He wasn't sure about the others, but Jason had a definite bad feeling about this one.
...
After rallying, briefing and distributing group kit, Jason and the rest of Bravo along with Sergeant Hawkins and her fire team of Marine cadets departed through the bridge gate, and crossed the bridge into Handbridge. The fire teams separated when they reached a fork in the road, with Jason and Bravo heading for Lache and Hawkings and her delta fire team continuing to sweep Handbridge for survivors.
Bravo moved through the streets, keeping a diamond formation and their eyes and ears open for any signs of life. The streets were eerily quiet. As Bravo exited Handbridge and crossed a roundabout into their search area, the only thing of note was a series of assorted abandoned cars, and the eerie quiet that settled over the area.
"This place is giving me the creeps." said Ethan, looking up and down the line of seemingly abandoned houses.
"Tell me about it." agreed Nathan, looking along the opposite side of the street.
"Stay sharp." Reaffirmed Jason, keeping his L98 ready in his shoulder. As they looked up and down the line of houses, Jason couldn't help but shake the feeling that they were being watched.
"Contact." announced Nathan. "That house there, top floor, left window." They all looked at the indicated house and window, there was nothing there.
"There's no one there." remarked Dyer patronisingly.
"I saw someone." Nathan explained to the group, "Looked like a kid."
"Alright," said Jason, "Let's investigate. Stevenson and Dyer, set security. Joyce, on me." Dyer and Stevenson moved around to watch the street while Nathan and Jason went to investigate.
The house was a normal two storey detached house with a tile roof and a baby yellow paint job. The 2 armed teenagers walked up the front door, keeping an eye on the ground floor window as they moved down the front garden path. Jason rapped his knuckles on the door.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" he called out, "Royal Air Force we're not going to hurt you." They waited for a short while before Jason suggested Stevenson try the back door. He nodded and followed the path that branched off around the house and into the back. He returned a few moments later,
"Locked up tight. No sign of forced entry." He reported.
"Alright." Said Jason, "We'll try again on the way back. Let's move out."
"Shouldn't we try to get inside?" argued Stevenson.
"We're not at the stage of kicking in doors. At least not yet." said Jason. "We'll try again later and report it to command when we get back. Now let's roll."
The cadets started off again, moving through Lache street by street, neighbourhood by neighbourhood. The silence that had been over the area all day still reigned over them, and Jason didn't like it, or the absence of people or infected.
They rounded a corner and came to local shopping complex, made up of a set of shops with a carpark in front of it. Abandoned in the car park was a local police car, its door open and lights still flashing. As they got closer, something seemed off.
"Stevenson, Dyer. Search that car." ordered Jason, "Joyce with me, we'll search the shops." Stevenson went to his work on the car while Joyce and Jason headed for the nearby mini-super marker.
"What exactly are we looking for?" asked Dyer with attitude. Jason stopped and looked back. He was fed up of Dyer and her attitude.
"Anything that might tell us where everybody is? Where the police are? Anything." he said. Dyer skulked off back towards the car while Jason turned to catch up with Joyce who'd already moved into the shop. The interior of the shop was as expected; abandoned. The shelves had been picked clean of canned and savoury items and even perishables such as fruit were nearly all gone. There was no sign of the shopkeeper or anyone else.
"Corporal." called Joyce, "Got something."
Jason moved toward the back of the store where Joyce had called from. He found him crouching on the floor by a closed door marked 'staff only'.
"Blood trail." he said, motioning to what he was crouched over on the floor, "And it's fresh." Jason looked at the still wettish blood trail, it lead through the door.
"Right." said Jason, "Fix your bayonet, and follow me."
"You sure?" asked Joyce as he reached for his bayonet. Jason instead slung his rifle and drew the Glock from his holster.
"Close quarters." he replied, "Might be wounded, might be infected. Better safe than sorry." Joyce nodded and fixed the bayonet to his rifle's barrel.
Jason then motioned for Joyce to get behind him. Once his subordinate was ready behind him, he unlocked the door and moved through in one smooth movement, Joyce obediently following. They followed the blood trail through a storeroom before coming to a staircase up. They followed the trail up and to a door marked as offices. Jason tried the door to find it locked. He motioned for Joyce to back up a bit. Once he had done, Jason took a few quick breaths, then kicked the door just next to the lock. The door swung open, its lock no longer part of its structure.
They moved into the room; and found what they were looking for. Propped up against a wall under a window was the body of a plump, middle aged man in a blood stained light blue shirt and tie with a pair of business trousers. His name tag read 'Norman: general manager'. The blood trail stopped with him.
"Looks like we found our bleeder." said Jason, keeping his gun trained on the body as he looked around closer at the bite mark on the man's left shoulder. The wound stank, but was still fresh enough that the blood hadn't fully clotted.
'Why hasn't he turned yet?' thought Jason. 'And where is the one who bit him?' He saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He saw over to see Joyce going through a door adjacent to the office. Jason's eyes went wide,
"Joyce! NO!" he shouted.
Too late.
Before the Young cadet could do anything, the infected was upon him, its larger form collapsing onto Joyce before he could react to the new threat. He tried to push the infected off him as the infected's jaws clamped down into Joyce's neck. He screamed as the infected bit into him and blood squirted out of the wound. Jason's Glock was up in a flash, and a single round popped the infected's head open like a balloon, showering blood and brain matter all over Joyce and the surrounding area.
Jason ran to his cadet's side. Pushing the infected corpse away as he clamped his hands onto Joyce's neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
"Just hang on mate." Jason said while trying to formulate a plan.
"B...Behind you..." Joyce managed to say through the pain. It took a moment for Jason to work out what he was on about, then it hit him. The other body! He looked back to see 'Norman' was getting up, with the same blanked out look as the infected police officer and the one that had bitten Joyce. Jason grabbed the Glock from where it had landed on the floor and he spun round, firing 2 shots from the knee into the infected's head. It dropped back dead, missing most of its face and head.
"Thanks mate." he said, reapplying pressure to the still gushing wound. "I'm gonna get you out of here." He was lying. When the infected had bitten into his neck, he'd torn open Joyce's carotid Artery, he'd bleed out fast and there was nothing he could do. Joyce took one last look at Jason.
"It... s been... a pleasure... Corporal..." he uttered his last words as he collapsed into unconsciousness in Jason's arms.
"Joyce! JOYCE!"
He was gone.
Jason stood up. He reached up to his radio and clicked the transmission button.
"Hello Zero, this is Mike-Zero-Seven-Bravo. Man down. I say again, Man down. Times one cadet KIA. Please advise. Over."
There was a short pause, before the response came back.
"Hello Mike-Zero-Seven- Bravo, this is Zero. Roger. Wait out."
This time the pause was longer. Jason could almost see the radio operator running to Marsden to tell him the news, that one of his cadets was dead. After a bittersweet moment, the response came. There was a edge of sympathy in the radio operators voice as he spoke.
"Mike-Zero-Seven- Bravo, this is Zero. You are to ensure the cadet does not turn, recover what kit you can, and return to base. Do you understand? Over."
"Zero, this is Mike-Zero-Seven-Bravo. Roger. WILCO. Out." Jason hung up on the radio. He then sighed.
"Corporal." said a voice. Jason looked up. Stevenson and Dyer were stood in the doorway, shocked looks on their face and their skin paler than normal. Stevenson stammered,
"We heard gunshots and shouting and we came running..."
"Joyce is dead." deadpanned Jason. "Infected got him. Our orders are to prevent him turning, recover his kit and head back. Can we use that police car?"
"No keys, otherwise it's good." replied Stevenson.
"Ok. Wait outside for me." said Jason as he levelled his Glock at Joyce's head. "I won't be a minute."
"Wait!" Shouted Dyer, she stalked up to Jason and continued shouting. "You can't just shoot him! Who says he's even dead? Who says he's going to turn? And what gives you the right..."
Jason had had enough.
"CADET DYER!" he shouted, she recoiled as he continued with venom in his voice. "Cadet Joyce bled out in my arms having been bitten by that infected. It is now my duty to ensure that he does not reanimate and try to kill you, me, Stevenson or anyone else. Now I have given you an order to wait outside, so get out of my sight before I throw you out."
Dyer looked at Jason. All the sass, attitude and disobedience had drained from her in the face of Jason's dressing down. She simply came to attention and replied
"Yes Corporal," before walking out. Stevenson waited a moment in the doorway before nodding and going after her. Jason waited a moment after they left, before he levelled his pistol at Joyce's corpse, and fired.
...
The march back to Chester was made in virtual silence with Jason occasionally giving orders to change formation, but aside from that no one felt like talking. It took a while to convince the gate guards that the blood that stained Jason's uniform was not his and he had not in fact been bitten, but once it was sorted they were permitted entry. They were met by Squadron Leader Marsden.
"Bravo." he said.
"Sir." replied Jason, still in regretting the loss of Joyce. Marsden sighed, but understood.
"You're all stood down for the rest of the day. The cadets are being billeted in the abode hotel for the night. Get yourselves settled in. Clean your kit and shower, dinner is in the hotel's restaurant at 1900 hours followed by an evening debrief. Corporal may I have a word? The rest of you are dismissed."
Dyer and Stevenson left but Jason remained as ordered.
"A rather rough day of it then." said Marsden.
"You could say that sir." replied Jones, not sure what else to say. Marsden sighed again.
"Joyce was a good cadet Rees." He stated. "I'm sure you did what you could for him. I'll need an initial incident report by close of play today and a full report in a few days' time. We've established a stores and armoury in the museum's store rooms, get Joyce's kit cleaned and returned."
"You'll have it on your desk by 18:00 sir." promised Jason. He wanted nothing more to be on his own for a bit. Marsden put a reassuring hand on the teenagers shoulder.
"It's never easy Rees. Loosing someone. While it is unacceptable to waste lives, it is acceptable to spend them."
"What was Joyce sir?" asked Jason, looking his CO in the eye, "A life spent? Or a life wasted?"
Marsden saluted the young soldier briefly before he turned and left, but did not answer.
Abode Hotel
Chester safe zone
22:00
Jason lay in bed staring at the ceiling. It'd been, to put it mildly, a hell of a day.
The world had come to an abrupt and bloody end. 24 hours ago he had been a regular teenager with regular problems such as homework deadlines. Now he was a soldier in the defence of his hometown and its populace, or what was left of it. On top of that he had lost a cadet under his charge to the infected, for which he felt there was no one to blame but himself. Finally, and probably worst of all, his fire team no longer existed.
Stevenson had been transferred to an army cadet fire team to make up numbers, and Dyer had, not only requested a transfer, but also filed a formal complaint against him based on the dressing down he'd given her in the field. Jason knew he had been totally within his rights to do so; she had been repeatedly disobedient and in some cases straight up rude to her OIC. And even if they pressed the issue on harshness grounds, he could claim the situation had her stressed, as he'd just had a cadet die in his arms. So while the complaint wouldn't get anywhere, it had made a bad day even worse.
Jason decided he needed a drink.
The mini-bar in the hotel room he'd been billeted in had been removed. But because Jason was over 18, he could go out. He retrieved his ID and wallet and stuffed them into the trouser pocket of the fatigues he just couldn't be bothered to change out of. He also made sure that the Glock and its holster were still strapped to his thigh. Even if he didn't need it, he felt better for having it.
He left his room and walked out of the hotel reception, no one bothered to challenge him on where he was going. He made his way through the darkened streets of Chester. There was a curfew and noise discipline in effect, so no noise outside after 21:00 and no one outside by 23:00. In the distance, Jason could hear the distinctive cracks of gunfire, soldiers on the ancient Roman city walls firing at infected who had been foolish enough to wander into their sights.
Jason kept walking until he found himself at coming up on Mikie's, one of the most popular student bars in town. There was no bouncer on the door so he went right in. The place was nearly empty and there was no music playing, a stark contrast as to how the place normally was when Jason came here on nights out. He took a seat at the bar next to a patron in a lab coat. The barman came up to him;
"Double vodka and Coke." Jason requested.
"Hey look man," started the barman, "I'm gonna need to see some ID..."
In one swift movement, Jason pulled his Glock out and placed it on the bar, before pulling his ID out of his wallet and handing it to the barman, who checked it and handed it back before going to fulfil his order.
"Rough day?" asked a female voice. It was the patron in the lab coat next to him. She was about Jason's age, with auburn brown hair tied up in a high ponytail, dark green eyes and a cute face.
"You could say that." replied Jason, taking note of the multiple empty glasses in front of her. "You?"
The girl shrugged. "I spent all day tending to wounded, crying, desperate people with a few even dying on my watch. How about you?"
The barman returned with his drink and Jason thanked him before taking a deep slug of it. "I spent the day covering civilians coming in, then I lead a patrol beyond the wall to search for survivors during which the youngest member of my team got bit and bled out in my arms before I had to blow his brains out to make sure he didn't reanimate."
The girl nodded before raising her glass.
"Here's to shitty days." she said. Jason smiled for the first time in hours. He knocked his glass against hers,
"Here here," he said. They both then necked the remaining contents of their glasses.
"I didn't catch your name?"
"Alex Vera. And you?"
"Jason. Jason Rees."
Here's chapter 2: things are starting to get moving and will continue on for a while.
for any readers of my current girls und panzer story... basically, I've lost my enthusiasm for GuP at the moment. The upcoming movie will resolve this issue by giving me some new st. Gloriana canon to work with and manipulate to my maniacal means but basically consider Anarchy in the UK on hold until the movie release.
Anyway, let me know what you think of this chapter and special thanks to my beta readers, Draco38 and the other Horsemen of the dead. Who have been providing great encouragement throughout
Anyway, chapter 3 is in the works, no idea when it'll be out...
Bye!
J