La Guerre des Mondes – Part Five
The next two years passed slowly for the royalists imprisoned in the Square du Temple. In January 1793, the Jacobins announced that they had found King Louis XVI guilty of treason and he would face execution by guillotine on the final day of the month. A priest visited the prison that morning, so that the King might confess his sins before God prior to being sent to meet him. Lisette wept as the King was marched passed her cell, head bowed by a weight heavier than any crown.
“Whatever is the matter, Mademoiselle de Cholet?” he asked, pausing to offer her a sickly smile, “Surely you did not imagine that I was immortal?”
(Seeing that the noblewoman’s emotional reaction had earned her a benny, the rest of the party suddenly began wailing and gnashing their teeth at the King’s fate, but their crocodile tears went unrewarded).
From the small window in his cell, Marcel was able to watch the King’s progress toward the Place de la Revolution, where a crowd of bloodthirsty Parisians had gathered around the executioner’s scaffold. It had been snowing in the night and a chill wind blasted Marcel’s face as he watched the carriage’s slow progress through the icy streets. Turning his gaze toward the dark clouds gathering overhead, Marcel spotted a strange – yet somehow familiar – shape descending towards the city. The last time he had seen such a thing, it had been half buried in a burning field near the German border. No, not just one... there was another, and another… and another!
“Mon Dieu!” Marcel croaked, “There are hundreds of them!”
“Hundreds of what?” Jacques demanded, fighting for space at the tiny window, “Oh my, some sort of flying object… I can’t identify it!”
The Martian fleet opened fire on the crowd in the Place de la Revolution, while others extended crab-like legs and settled onto the ground, disgorging groups of Martian infantry into the heart of the city. Something exploded on the other side of the river and an entire building collapsed sideways into the icy water. Paris had become a warzone!
“We have to get out of here!” Lisette cried.
“Leave it to me!” Rugue said, kneeling by the cell door and slipping his lock-picks into the rusty keyhole, “I’ll have this open in a jiffy.”
Everyone stared at him.
“What?”
“Have you had those on you this whole time?” Andre asked, his left eye beginning to twitch most alarmingly.
“Er…yes.”
“We’ve been locked up for two years!” Andre screamed, lunging across the cell, “Eating shitty prison food and crapping in a bucket! For two years! And now – NOW – you decide to escape.”
“Andre! You can kill him later,” Marcel snapped, “Let him get these cells open!”
The simple locks were no match for Rugue’s clever fingers and soon all five royalists were free of their chains. The sound of fighting rose from the lower levels of the tower, the crackle of muskets and the buzz of Martian weaponry. Instead of heading down to aid their gaolers in battle, the escapees went up to the top floor of the prison where Marie Antoinette was being held. Three nervous guards were stationed outside the Queen’s cell, debating whether they should leave their post to investigate the fate of their brothers-in-arms. The decision was made for them as Jacques and Rugue dashed up the stairs and pushed the nearest two sentries over the balcony.
“Please don’t kill me!” wailed the third man, surrendering his weapons.
“Where’s the key to the Queen’s cell?” Jacques demanded.
“The sergeant had it,” answered the guard, “And you just threw him off a building!”
“Don’t take that tone with me, jeune homme!” Jacques warned.
Rugue got the cell open and Lisette rushed to embrace the Queen, who looked as tangled and dirty as the rest of the prisoners. Wintry sunlight entered the room through a barred window and Marcel wandered over to take a look outside. Martian craft filled the sky, buzzing like flies above a corpse. One particularly large vessel had taken position over the Place de la Revolution, suspended there like some great, black spider.
BOOM!
Smoke billowed from the Bastille as the cannons arrayed along the battlements opened fire upon the Martian fleet. One shot must have a clipped a UFO, for the alien ship burst into flame and veered erratically towards the Square du Temple.
“Run!” Marcel roared.
The UFO collided with the tower, exploding on impact. Debris showered the royalists as they fled downstairs, fortunately nobody was injured. Burning wood and charred masonry continued to fall as the party continued their frantic descent. Other prisoners still trapped in their cells cried out as the party hurried by, but the building was coming down around their heads and they did not have time to save everyone.
Reaching the base of the tower, Rugue stepped gingerly over the dead guards and began teasing the lock on the door to the prison armoury. The courtyard was littered with bodies, men whom had fought to hold the entrance against the Martians and died for their bravery. Jacques knelt beside the corpse of a man sporting revolutionary colours and reached forward to brush the dead man’s eyes closed. Suddenly, a large green spider lunged for his fingers, hissing and spitting like a feral cat! Jacques recoiled in horror, stumbling over the body of another dead Jacobin. He watched in horror as the spider-thing settled atop the dead man’s head and extended two slender tentacles into his ears. Suddenly, the corpse’s eyes snapped open and fixed the musketeer captain with a milky stare! More of the Martian braincrabs appeared, scuttling over the cracked flagstones and selecting hosts from among the dead.
“Ware morts!” Jacques cried out, fumbling for the pistol he had taken from the prison guard.
Animated by the parasitic spiders’ joyriding their dead flesh, the Jacobins rose up and attacked. Snatching a musket off the ground, Andre drove the bayonet through the chest of the nearest zombie. 12” of steel sliding between its ribs did little to inconvenience the corpse, it locked its clammy fingers around the young scientist’s throat and began to squeeze….
“Anne-Marie….” Andre gasped, as his vision began to darken.
Suddenly, the dead hands around Andre’s neck loosened their grip, as Lisette chopped her sabre down through the zombie’s skull. A braincrab jumped at the noblewoman’s face, but she shrieked and ducked out of the way. The creature sailed passed her head and bounced off the wall like a wet sponge saturated with gravy. It landed on its back and Jacques stomped down hard before it had the chance to right itself.
SQUELCH!
The royalists soon realised that killing the spiders prevented the corpses from making a nuisance of themselves. Rugue gained access to the prison armoury and the party re-equipped all the gear that had been confiscated when they were caught.
“Whatever shall we do now?” the Queen quailed.
“We should head to the Place de la Revolution and find the King,” Jacques insisted.
“The city is swarming with Martians!” Marcel replied, “We cannot risk taking the Queen into a warzone! We need to find a place where she will be safe before we go looking for the King.”
“What about the university?” Andre suggested, “Remember that strange fellow we met two years ago; Monsieur F? He suggested that Professor Ogilvy could put us in contact with his organisation. If anyone is equipped to fight these invaders, it’ll be them.”
To be continued….
