A KING MUST DIE

Excerpt from Chapter 36 Restoring Time: Community Chronicles Book 4

Siobhan’s blue evening gown was tight across her belly, but on this occasion she didn’t mind. Let those in the Bunker know how fruitful living with a healthy man from up top could be.

The tables filled with guests arriving at the reception dinner. The members of the Bunker in charge of decorations had decked out the largest hall for Christmas. The walls were festooned with swags of pine branches, dusted in white to imitate snow. These covered paintings of past monarchs and ministers, which had been removed from Holyrood House and the New Parliament Building years ago. A large pine tree stood in a corner, covered in stylish decorations with similar dustings of fake snow and plenty of ribbons in Royal Stewart tartan. Piles of presents sat at its base, all wrapped in tartan paper. Central on the nearest wall, sat a cast-iron fireplace and flue, as promised, with wood set ready to light.

A long table covered in a white cloth ran down the centre of the room. Siobhan estimated it would seat one hundred. Centre pieces of candles surrounded by baubles and pinecones alternated with bowls and platters of festive foods.

They must have depleted the archives and stores. The Government was out to impress. A wave of heat flushed through Siobhan. It wouldn’t impress those Communities who were struggling at present. Their food reserves were already being rationed.

Have the guys here not done their mathematics when the sunlight started failing?

Kelly called to her from across the room. She was also dressed in an evening gown. Her boyish figure had stayed slim after all these years of hard work, and Rory maintained she remained an awesome fighter. Alistair stood beside her. He was tall, thin and greying, and his face kept the gentle expression Siobhan remembered from their first visit to the Glencoe Community.

Siobhan waited for Kelly to reach her and embraced her older, but younger, sister-in-law. Siobhan’s trip to Glencoe in the early months of their marriage, to meet Kelly and Alistair, had cemented an instant bond with these two hardy and generous souls. Siobhan sensed in Kelly’s character traits that she believed Caitlin would have exhibited—compassion and pragmatism. 

After greeting Alistair, Rory ushered Siobhan to the place-settings assigned for them. Bethany sat at the very head of the dinner table and all eyes were now on her. She rose and commenced her welcome speech.

“Thank you to all for agreeing to come in a spirit of co-operation and camaraderie and limiting personal weapons—”

 A side door flew open and Angela strode in wearing a clinging, green evening dress, which contrasted well with her red hair. She knew how to dress to invite attention, for every male head in the room lingered on her entrance.

“I beg your pardon, Prime Minister.” Angela took her place halfway along the table.

“It’s embarrassing that Angela’s related to us.” Rory whispered over his shoulder to Siobhan as he sat facing Bethany. “Always wanting people to notice her.”

“Ssh,” Siobhan said when he opened his mouth to say more.

Bethany continued her speech. “We must all reconsider the use of our own resources in light of—well a lack of light.” Bethany paused and allowed for a moment of appreciation of her humour. Soft chuckles came from the seated guests.

“You are welcome to tour the Bunker, under the supervision of one of our designated guides.” Bethany slid a brief glance in Angela’s direction. “But now, as we believe in preserving the traditions of the past, please eat and drink and enjoy our pre-Christmas festivities on this Midwinter’s Eve.” She raised her glass, and the diners stood.

“Slànte mhor,” Bethany toasted.

“Slànte mhor,” the guests of the New Scottish Government responded and lifted their drinks to the toast.

“Where’s Lloyd?” Rory whispered to Siobhan once they’d sat down.

Siobhan scanned the room. Leaders from the other Communities sat forward of Rory, including the Donaldsons, and Maxwell Lloyd sat near the top of the table beside Angela. Further down near their end of the table, and on either side of Kelly, Alistair and Murray, were Micah and delegates from the bandit groups. High-ranking members of the Government and the surviving members of the Brains Trust sat strategically in between.

But no Lloyd.

Siobhan returned her gaze to Rory. His eyes were slits and his nostrils flared. A door opened and behind them someone entered the hall.

“Psst, Rory,” Murray hissed.

Rory turned in the direction he indicated. Siobhan twisted slightly in her chair to view the door. Hidden among the hustle and bustle of those serving the first course, Lloyd slipped in and made his way to the empty seat in between Maxwell and Angela.

After dinner, they cleared the room of the dining table and chairs, and a quartet performed while people mingled. Siobhan’s feet ached and travel weariness echoed in her muscles. The comfortable couches lining the walls looked so inviting. She sat on an overstuffed green cloth sofa and was soon joined by Rory, then Alistair, while Kelly stood watching the musicians.

“You know, it’s strange, whenever I see you, Rory,” Alistair leaned forward on the sofa and rested his elbows on his long legs, “you’re almost the same as…back then.” His Canadian accent still held strong.

“I’m barely four years older, ken,” Rory whispered.

“It might have been yesterday for you, but I’ll never forget what happened all those years ago for me when…” Alistair’s voice was of an older man than Rory, but he spoke as an equal. “We couldn’t have done it without you. You know that, right?”

Rory took in a sharp breath.

“Sorry, Rory, I know it hurts. But I also know, for some strange reason, you blame yourself for how it all went down.”

Rory stared at his fingers entwined in front of him.

“I know this isn’t a good time or place, but I’ve wanted to tell you this for so long.” Alistair placed his hand on Rory’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t have pulled it off if you weren’t there. We would’ve all died. I’m convinced of that. I’m so sorry that…” Alistair’s voice broke.

Rory lifted his head and looked at him.

Alistair swallowed and continued. “Man, I miss your dad. I thought he hated me but, looking back, he was trying me out, testing me, but preparing me too. And I know you miss him.” Alistair spoke so low Siobhan could only just hear him. “If you hadn’t been there, Rory. The future wouldn’t be this.” He lifted his other hand for a brief moment. “Caitlin Murray-Campbell would not have survived. Hell, you wouldn’t be. I would never have known the love of your sister, and more importantly for this time we live in, the Community System may not have been as well-devised and founded as it was.” He leaned closer to Rory. “You’re a hero and you have nothing, and I mean nothing, to feel guilty about. Scott would be so proud of the man you are—just as I am.”

Rory bowed his head, hiding his emotion. His shoulders trembled.

Alistair’s whispered words came across to Siobhan. “And because the Communities are so well founded, we’ll be able to hold our own when the Government tries to negotiate away our autonomy.”

Siobhan swallowed and placed her hand on Rory’s arm; his ropey muscles knotted tight beneath her fingers. Rory needed to hear his brother-in-law absolve him of any blame. But Alistair exhibited the same reservations as Rory regarding the intentions of the New Scottish Government. Siobhan’s neck muscles tensed. Somehow, a collaboration between Government and Communities had to work. Or there’d be no stopping the civil war she experienced in the future