Chapter 34 : Turning Point
The victory lasted forty-seven seconds.
I was still at the command post, watching the Census overlay as Green's teams secured the final rooms, when the alert pulsed red across my vision.
[WARNING — THREAT DETECTED]
[HOSTILE: QUINCY — STATUS: ALIVE — LOCATION: ROOF ACCESS]
[SECONDARY DETONATION SYSTEM: ACTIVE]
Alive.
The grenade had wounded him. His own man's bullet had put him down. But the Census showed his tag flickering on the building's fifth floor, crawling toward a position that hadn't been cleared because everyone thought he was dead.
"Bravo Lead, this is Command Post." My voice came out sharper than intended. "Quincy is still active. I repeat, Quincy is still alive. He's on the roof access level."
Green's response was immediate. "Copy, Command Post. We saw him go down—"
"He's moving. Census shows— shows movement in the northwest stairwell. He's heading for the roof."
A pause. Then: "Alpha Team, redirect to roof access. Confirm hostile status."
I watched the tactical display as Alpha Team moved to intercept. Rachel's tag was still on floor four, treating wounded among the defectors. Safe for now. But Quincy was climbing, dragging himself toward something, and the Census was screaming about secondary detonation systems.
"Command Post to Nathan James. Sir, I'm reading an additional detonation network. Separate from the dead-man switch we disabled."
Chandler's voice came back tight. "Explain."
"Quincy must have had a backup. The charges EOD neutralized were the primary system. There's something else — smaller yield, localized, but still enough to bring down sections of the building."
"Can you locate it?"
I pushed the Census harder, scanning for explosive signatures. The system pulsed with fragmentary data — the backup system was simpler, less sophisticated, probably a manual trigger Quincy had kept as insurance.
"Sir, it's tied to his personal position. Wherever he is, the trigger is with him."
Radio channels erupted with cross-talk. Alpha Team was closing on the roof access. Green was redirecting additional personnel. The defectors were confused, having thought the fight was over.
And Rachel's tag was moving.
"Medical Team to Command Post." Her voice cut through the chaos. "I'm hearing reports of additional explosives. What's happening?"
"Stay on floor four. Do not approach the upper levels."
"Corbin, I have wounded defectors who were heading to the roof for evac—"
"Stay where you are."
A pause. When she spoke again, her tone was ice. "Don't give me orders."
Her tag continued moving. Toward the stairwell. Toward Quincy.
I abandoned the command post and ran for the RHIB staging area.
---
The boat hit the beach hard enough to throw me forward.
I was over the side before it stopped moving, boots slamming into sand, sprinting toward the administrative building. The Census tracked everything — Rachel ascending to floor five, Alpha Team converging from the opposite direction, Quincy's wounded tag dragging itself toward a position that offered him leverage over everyone below.
My lungs burned by the time I reached the building's entrance. Inside, the aftermath of battle spread across every surface — spent casings, bloodstains, debris from the earlier fighting. Bodies that hadn't been moved yet. The smell of cordite and copper and fear.
The elevator was out. I took the stairs two at a time.
Third floor. Fourth floor. Fifth—
"ATTENTION, EVERYONE IN THIS BUILDING."
Quincy's voice blasted from a portable radio, echoing through the stairwell. His words were slurred, pain-drunk, but the threat was clear.
"I HAVE A BACKUP TRIGGER. THE WHOLE FIFTH FLOOR IS WIRED. ANYONE COMES NEAR ME, I BRING IT DOWN."
I froze on the landing between four and five. Above me, the door to the fifth floor corridor stood closed. Beyond it, Census showed Quincy's tag and — damn it — Rachel's tag, now on the same level.
"I WANT DR. SCOTT. THE SCIENTIST. SHE COMES TO ME ALONE, OR I KILL EVERYONE UP HERE. YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES."
My blood went cold.
"Rachel." I keyed my radio, keeping my voice steady despite the fear crawling through my chest. "Rachel, where are you?"
Her response came from above, her voice echoing down the stairwell. "I'm on five. There are wounded defectors up here — Quincy's holding them hostage."
"Get out. Let Alpha Team handle—"
"He specifically asked for me, Corbin. If I leave, he detonates."
"He's bluffing."
"Is he?" Her voice sharpened. "Because from where I'm standing, I can see his hand on a trigger device. He's not bluffing."
I climbed the last flight slowly, carefully, until I could see through the fifth-floor doorway. The corridor stretched ahead, debris-strewn, lit by emergency lighting. At the far end, Quincy slumped against the wall, blood pooling beneath him from wounds that should have been fatal. In his right hand, a small device with a red indicator light.
And between us, Rachel. Standing in the open. Exposed.
"I'm coming up," she said over the radio. Not to me. To Quincy.
"Smart woman." His voice was a wet rasp. "The rest of you — back off. I see one uniform, she dies with me."
Alpha Team's radio chatter went silent. I watched them retreat on the Census, pulling back from the fifth floor, leaving Rachel alone with a dying man who wanted to take the building with him.
"Rachel." I stepped into the corridor, staying low. "Don't do this."
She turned. Her face was pale, streaked with dust and someone else's blood, but her eyes were steady.
"He's dying, Corbin. The wounds from the grenade, the gunshot — he's got maybe ten minutes before he bleeds out. If I can keep him talking, keep him distracted—"
"He'll detonate the moment you're close enough to die with him."
"Maybe." She looked back at Quincy. "Or maybe I can talk him down. Get the trigger. End this without more deaths."
"You're not a negotiator."
"No. I'm a doctor." Her voice softened, something vulnerable beneath the professional calm. "And I couldn't save everyone during this plague. Couldn't save the people who died before I found the cure. But I can save the people in this building if I'm brave enough to try."
She started walking toward Quincy.
I watched her go, Census tracking her every step, and felt something inside me crack.
---
"Stay there." Quincy raised the trigger device, his hand shaking from blood loss. "Close enough to hear. Not close enough to grab."
Rachel stopped ten feet from him. "I'm here. What do you want?"
"What do I want?" He laughed, a sound like gravel in a broken machine. "I wanted to build something. A safe place. A kingdom in the ruins. Instead I got—" He coughed blood. "I got Navy ships and righteous crusaders and your damn cure making my immunity worthless."
"The cure isn't an attack on you. It's salvation for everyone."
"Everyone includes the people who would have been nothing without me. The survivors I protected. The community I built." His eyes found hers, fever-bright. "You're taking that from me. Making me obsolete."
"You're dying, Quincy. The world doesn't need you to be obsolete — you're already leaving it."
"Then I'll leave my mark." His thumb moved on the trigger. "Everyone remembers the man who brought down the building full of hostages. Everyone remembers the Navy's failure."
I crept closer along the corridor wall, staying out of Quincy's line of sight. The Census showed his vitals dropping — he had minutes, maybe less. But his grip on the trigger stayed firm.
"What about the defectors?" Rachel asked. "Your own people turned on you. They're in this building too. You'd kill the men who followed you for years?"
"They betrayed me."
"They wanted to live. There's no betrayal in survival."
Quincy's eyes flickered — something human beneath the desperation. "I gave them everything. Leadership. Purpose. And they sold me out for Navy promises."
"They sold you out because you were ready to kill them." Rachel took a careful step closer. "Put down the trigger, Quincy. Let the medics treat you. Maybe you survive. Maybe you don't. But you don't take two hundred people with you."
"I'm already dead." His voice cracked. "Your cure comes too late for me. The virus doesn't work like that — immunity doesn't mean salvation. My body's been failing for months."
The Census confirmed it. Beneath the gunshot wounds and grenade shrapnel, Quincy's tag showed systemic damage — organ failure, cellular degradation. He was dying long before the assault.
"I'm sorry," Rachel said. And she meant it.
Quincy's hand trembled on the trigger.
"I don't want your pity." But his voice had lost its edge. "I want... I wanted..."
He slumped. The trigger device started to slip from his weakening grip.
And then the floor exploded beneath us.
Author's Note / Support the Story
Your Reviews and Power Stones help the story grow! They are the best way to support the series and help new readers find us.
Want to read ahead? Get instant access to more chapters by supporting me on Patreon. Choose your tier to skip the wait:
Noble ($7): Read 10 chapters ahead of the public.
Royal ($11): Read 17 chapters ahead of the public.
Emperor ($17): Read 24 chapters ahead of the public.
Weekly Updates: New chapters are added every week. See the pinned "Schedule" post on Patreon for the full update calendar.
Join here: patreon.com/Kingdom1Building