by J. M. Madden
“Would you like to leave this program?”
The man’s eyes glistened in the weak green light and he nodded vigorously. “Please.”
They removed the man from the cage. Shane took his arm as he sagged, and Jordyn had a feeling they were going to have to carry him out of there eventually.
“What’s your name?” she asked the man.
“Aksel.”
“Aksel, do you know how many guards?”
He shook his head. “Not many. Just two, night time.”
Well, damn. That meant there was another guard wandering the property. Fontana looked around.
The next cage was much the same, but this time the prisoner was American. He wept as Jordyn moved in toward him and wrapped his arms around her when she spoke to him. Normally, she wouldn’t have let him near her with all the weapons she was carrying, but her heart was breaking for the man. For a moment she held him tight, letting him feed off her strength if that was possible before she pulled back. “We have to rescue the others. What’s your name?”
“Hughes. Brandon Hughes. Marine Corps.”
“Come on, Brandon. Let’s get the fuck out of here, Marine.”
He was a little more mobile than Aksel and looked around the group expectantly. They didn’t have any spare goggles to give him, but Kenny kept a strong hand on his wrist to lead him.
The next man they rescued barely even opened his eyes when she entered the cell. This was the man she and Fontana had been spotted by last night. Jordyn told him they were here to rescue him, but there was no response. She crept closer. The man was burning up with fever. Getting around behind him she positioned her arms beneath his armpits and pulled him to the door. It should have been harder than it actually was. The man groaned but didn’t rouse. He would have to be carried out of the camp. Hell, she could probably carry him.
Fontana shook his head. “You guys stay here with him for a minute. Madeira and I will go check the remaining cages and get the last prisoner.”
Jordyn was good with that. Their group was getting bigger and less stealthy. They needed to make sure they didn’t draw attention in any way.
She followed Fontana down the dirt path. They passed several huts too close for comfort and they looked for the last prisoner. They checked three more cages, all empty. Then they heard a sound.
Jordyn wasn’t sure what exactly it was other than rustling. And grunting. Fontana went low, crouching down as he peered around a final hut.
A blast of icy cold hit her as Jordyn observed what was going on in the final cage in the farthest reach of the camp. Was that feeling from Fontana? Rage consumed her, and terror. Fontana started to lunge forward, but she grabbed him by the arm. “Wait,” she hissed.
The cage door was open and inside one body rutted over another. The body beneath was still, as if afraid to move. Jordyn thought she might have seen a glint of a blade in the aggressor’s hand.
There was a harsh exhalation as the man orgasmed, arching harshly into the body beneath.
Fontana vibrated with fury, but he held still as the guard pushed away from the body and exited the cage. Chuckling, he made a kissing sound to the prisoner, but the man on the floor didn’t move. Buttoning his pants up, the guard put the knife away in the belt sheath and adjusted himself. Then he shut the cage door, turned and casually walked away.
Fontana moved before she could stop him. Faster than her eyes could track, he was across the space between them, tackling the man to the ground. She winced as the guard huffed out a breath. People would hear that. Then Fontana was driving his fists into the man’s body.
Jordyn raced after them, not sure she wanted to get between Fontana and the guard. They scrapped and rolled until they were almost underneath the weak pole light. Suddenly, the smaller man rallied, swinging punches. Fontana’s helmet was knocked from his head and fell to the ground, rolling into the brush. Then they faced off, and Fontana went still.
“Well, well,” the guard said in heavily-accented English. “Look who came back. Pretty Boy Fontana.”
The knife appeared in the guard’s hand, waving almost delicately in the air. He crept closer to Fontana, who hadn’t moved. Jordyn swept her NVGs off and circled wide, trying to get behind the guard, but he danced away.
“Mr. Fontana and I are old friends, aren’t we?”
Jordyn looked into Fontana’s face and felt terror go down her spine. There was a slack nothingness there, like he didn’t care what happened to him. He stared into the guard’s face as if he were looking at a viper, entranced with his movement.
Jordyn glanced around. So far, they hadn’t been exposed, but people would hear if she tried to shoot the man. Making her weapon safe, she pushed it behind her shoulder on the nylon strap and drew out her belt knife. Crouching low, balancing on the balls of her feet, she moved closer.
The guard only had eyes for Fontana. “Yeah, you broke out of the camp and suddenly we’re the ones being blamed. It wasn’t pleasant here for a very long time.”
Fontana’s lack of response was terrifying. Jordyn wasn’t sure what was going on, but he had shut down completely. Would she actually have to shoot his ass to get him to move? It was up to her.
The guard looked at her finally, his face curling into a menacing mask. “And what did you bring me? Oh, isn’t she a curvy piece of ass. Even under all that gear I can tell she’ll be delicious.”
The guard lunged.
Chapter Sixteen
Fontana heard Miguel’s words, but he couldn’t make himself move. Remembered pain and terror kept him immobile, and scenes flashed back through his mind on blast. Blood and pain, the spine cracking torture of the cattle prod shoved into his ribs, men slamming him face down into the textured floor, cuffing his hands and feet to the bars of his cell. Usually, it had been right after the med center experiment, when he was at his weakest, when the group had come after him.
It had started with Miguel. The man had always been insecure, and he’d taken that insecurity out on the prisoners, more harshly on Fontana. Maybe because he’d been everything Miguel wasn’t; tall, good-looking, fair-haired. Then Miguel had brought friends, other guards as evil as he was. When Fontana had scanned one of their minds, he’d learned that the guards had applied to be a part of the research group and had been denied. So, they all carried a heavy dose of resentment.
Miguel had been the spark to incite the rest of the group. The first time it had happened, Fontana had been out of his mind with pain from the experiment. He hadn’t even been conscious enough to realize what had happened, until he’d woken up with pain not associated with what the Collaborative had done. One look at Miguel’s smirking face as he’d walked by the cage had told him what had happened.
The next time the experiment hadn’t been as harsh, and he’d been aware when they’d come to him in the night, rushing through the cell door to overwhelm him. He’d fought that night, and the men had not had an easy time of abusing him. It had still happened though.
The humiliation had been staggering. And he had vowed that it would never happen again.
It had been soon after that that he’d realized he could push on their minds. Finesse them. Make them reconsider their actions. The next time the group had come after him in the night, Fontana had planted a crippling sense of dread that they weren’t going to make it out of the cage alive. He’d stood there, fists clenched, pouring every bit of his energy into that push as he waited for them, ready to target the dread on whoever stepped forward.
It had been Miguel of course, and Fontana had made him fear exposure and discovery by his family. He made him hear the thundering footsteps of the Captain coming up the path, and the wild roar of the jaguar in the night. Fearfully, the guard had backed away from the cage and taken off. The rest of the men had scattered like mice. And they’d left him alone for a while.
It was almost two weeks later when the Collaborative doctors had almost killed him. They’d given him a cocktail of scorpion venom and the effect on him was almost imme
diate. His heart had stopped several times and the doctor had kept him in the med center for an entire day before finally letting him return to the cage. Miguel had escorted him, and he’d seen how weak Fontana had been. As they’d shoved him into the cage, Miguel had squeezed his ass cheek, and Fontana knew they would be coming for him that night.
He’d rested as much as he could, feeling the occasional arrhythmia in his heartbeat. He still wasn’t completely healed, but he would have to fight. The last time Miguel had run away in fear. This time he would have to prove to his men that he wasn’t a chicken shit.
When they’d appeared out of the night and stepped into the light from the pole, Fontana had attacked. No hesitation. The guard with the weakest, simplest mind was only about twenty. Slamming power into him, he’d convinced the boy that Miguel and the others were there to attack him, and that he needed to protect himself. The boy had ripped his knife out of the sheath on his belt and started swinging. He’d taken out two guards before Miguel had planted a knife in his chest.
Swinging his attention from the fight, Fontana had sent power into the alarm system. Immediately, the sirens began to wail. The Army came running, but Miguel had disappeared into the darkness.
And now, two years later, he was threatening again.
Blinking, Fontana gasped in a breath. His mind caught up with what was going on. Madeira, several inches shorter than the guard, had just nailed Miguel with a roundhouse punch that sent the man staggering. Fontana sent a blast of concentrated power into Miguel’s consciousness. He’d been arching down with a vicious knife attack toward Jordyn, but Fontana wouldn’t let him get away with molesting anyone else. Running forward, he tackled Miguel again, slamming him to the ground. Fontana felt the slice of the blade across his lower belly, but he didn’t pause. Reaching for his own blade, he slammed it into the smaller man’s side. Then again. Miguel looked up at him, wide-eyed, as if he couldn’t believe that Fontana had turned on him.
Fontana watched every second of the man’s death. Maybe if he watched it closely enough he would feel better about what had happened to him. He wasn’t naïve; he knew abuse like that happened, especially during war time, but it had been so abhorrent to him.
Now, though, he was getting the satisfaction he’d dreamed about. Hot blood washed over his hand, making his grip on the knife slick. He tightened his fingers, drew the knife out and slammed it in again. Miguel sighed out his last breath, clutching weakly at Fontana’s vest.
“I think he’s dead,” Jordyn whispered.
It took him a long minute to respond to her words. Moving back off the body, Fontana looked down at what he’d done. And he felt no remorse. Only satisfaction.
Reaching out he swiped his bloody hand in the grass. He didn’t want any part of Miguel on him ever again.
Fontana pushed to his feet, his legs trembling. He felt sapped of energy, but vindicated. Miguel had been like a plague in his mind for years. Maybe now he could have some peace.
He met Jordyn’s eyes. Even in the dim light he could see the slight smile on her lips. At least she didn’t seem to be disgusted with what he’d done. He hated to even think about what she read in his actions.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never expected…I thought he was dead.”
He waved a hand at the body on the ground.
“I could tell you had some pent-up emotion there.”
He nodded, then seemed at a loss what to do. Jordyn reached out and cupped his face in her hands, looking him in the eyes. “Let’s get these prisoners out of here.”
He appreciated her touch right then more than he ever could have expressed. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to her rough palm. “Yes.”
The man that Miguel had been abusing was… a woman. Jordyn looked at Fontana, shocked, as she crouched near the slight body inside the cage. “I didn’t think there were women in the program?”
“There weren’t, that I know of.”
Fontana stepped inside and crouched down as well. It was obvious the woman had been abused, but she was also out cold. “Think he knocked her out?” Jordyn asked.
Fontana shook his head, feeling for a pulse. “She’s a little feverish. I think she’s fighting something off.”
There wasn’t a lot of light that reached inside the cage, but they could see that the woman was not very old, and her hair looked like it had been shaved and was just growing in. She was naked, and it was obvious that she hadn’t been eating well. Or they hadn’t been feeding her.
Jordyn tried to think of anything she had on her that could be used as clothing, but she didn’t have anything. Her pack was back at the makeshift camp.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Fontana told her.
He disappeared into the night. When he appeared again he had his helmet on with his night goggles and held an armful of cloth.
“I remembered seeing a clothes line behind the cafeteria,” he whispered to her, then he disappeared again.
There was a long linen shirt that would be perfect. Jordyn sat the woman up in her arms and popped the shirt over her head, then manipulated the arms through the holes. There were deep purple bruises on her body Jordyn could see even in the dim light. Scrambling in her belt pack, she grabbed a package of Wet Wipes and tried to clean the remnants of the assault from her flesh. Fontana had found a pair of shorts as well, so she pulled those up the woman’s battered, bruised legs. Jordyn kept expecting her to wake because this contact was so personal, but she didn’t. By the time she’d gotten the woman dressed Fontana had returned, carrying her helmet. He handed it to her, then made a motion at the pole light. It went out immediately, plunging them into darkness.
Jordyn fastened her helmet on and dropped the goggles over her eyes. This was much better.
They carried the woman out of the cage, then Fontana took her into his arms. That left Jordyn as security. With a final look at the body of the raping bastard Fontana had killed, they took off back toward the team.
Jordyn was amazed at Fontana’s power. Everything electrical around him seemed to die, but only when he wanted it to, and when it was convenient for them to pass undetected. And when he’d killed the guard, she was sure she’d felt the ground shake beneath her.
They met the other team at the previous cage. The prisoner there still hadn’t roused so he would have to be carried out. The woman hadn’t woken either, so that was two. Fontana whispered into the mic and explained about the woman. Every helmet turned to look at the body draped in his arms.
“There’s one more in the med center, Aksel says. Hughes, can you confirm that?”
The man blinked wide eyes into the dark as he nodded at Fontana’s question. “Yes. Jackson. He didn’t come back last night when he should have.”
Fontana looked at Zero. “Change of plans. You need to carry. Madeira and I are going into the med center. I want you to take these prisoners and get them out of here. As long as everything goes quietly, we’ll meet back at the tree.”
Zero nodded and took the woman from Fontana. The team helped get the unconscious man draped over Big Kenny’s shoulder, an easier way to travel that would allow him to keep his weapon in his hands. Shane and Payne would run security and lead them out of the camp.
It was not ideal, but Jordyn knew there was no way on earth that Fontana would leave anyone behind. And she was okay with that. They’d go in, get Jackson and get moving.
“Is there a security guard on duty inside?” she asked Hughes.
“I’m not sure. There might be a nurse sitting with Jackson, but I’m not sure if someone is on duty there all the time or not.”
Well, damn.
The team broke up and she prayed that they would make it out safely. No one in the camp had stirred yet, which she thought was amazing. Fontana and the guard had made a lot of noise while they were fighting, crushing plants and skittering in the gravel, but it had been at the farthest edge of the camp. Maybe that was why the cage was all the way out there. And maybe the people in
the huts had gotten used to strange nighttime sounds in the jungle.
She thought that someone would notice the quaking of the land, though. Obviously, they hadn’t, because it was still quiet.
She followed Fontana in a crouched jog as they headed toward the brick building. There was no one on the outside, and when they’d watched movements the day before, there hadn’t been a lot of guards going in or out here. That didn’t mean that there weren’t a few inside though.
Fontana led her right up to the building. There was only one exterior light here, and he’d knocked it out as soon as they’d gotten within fifty feet. Now, crouching down beside the door, he reached out to the lever handle. It wasn’t electronic, but she still heard a click before he pushed it open and squeezed through. Inside, the hallway was lit with little lights down along the floor, making the NVGs flare with brightness. Jordyn stretched the goggles up onto the helmet. The bright overhead fluorescent lights were off, but they had plenty to see by. Fontana made a motion to the left and they headed in that direction.
They checked every room they came to, but most of them were dark. Then they came to one room that had a light on beneath the door. Very lightly, Fontana rested his palm against the gray metal surface. Jordyn watched him close his eyes. He seemed to be concentrating on something inside. When he opened his eyes, he gave her a quick, cautioning glance. That was when she heard the footsteps approaching.
A Brazilian Army soldier opened the door and looked at Fontana. He nodded his head. “Here you go, sir.”
The soldier opened the room and let them inside. He didn’t look to be very old, but there was a little experience there. He was Brazilian, but young enough that English was easy. Jordyn was stunned, because she hadn’t expected Fontana to have this kind of control. The soldier smiled at them and she realized he had a sidearm on, but he’d made no move to reach for it. It was as if Fontana was an old friend of his.
“Are you the only guard in the med center?”
“Yes, sir. There’s a nurse on the other side monitoring the patient. He didn’t react well to whatever they gave him today.”
