by S. A. Beck
“The Mojave desert in Nevada,” the driver replied. “I’m Vivian, by the way, and this lump of barely restrained violence next to me is Grunt.”
Otto raised an eyebrow. “Grunt?”
The big, bald man turned to face Otto. His tribal tattoo rippled as he moved his head. “It’s a nickname I got in one of the wars. It’s the only name you need to know.”
Otto shifted in his seat. “Um… right. So did you two break out of that government project too?”
“The Poseidon Project?” Yuhle said with a laugh. “No, they’re mercenaries.”
“Fighting for the right cause for once,” Grunt mumbled, looking back out the window at the passing desert.
“We’re called the Atlantis Allegiance,” Vivian explained. “We have a secret base in the desert. It’s near the site where the government tested the early atomic bombs, starting in the fifties. Yuhle likes the symbolism. We like the fact that there are no neighbors for twenty miles.”
“The Atlantis Allegiance?” Otto asked. “What are you, hippies or something?”
Grunt turned in his seat again. “Do I look like a hippie to you, pyro?”
Otto gulped and managed to squeak out, “No.”
Yuhle leaned over to Otto. “Don’t mind Grunt. He’s a little touchy about pretty much everything.”
“So what does Atlantis got to do with all this?” Otto asked.
Yuhle adjusted his glasses. “It’s a long story, but as luck would have it, we have a long ride ahead of us. So you just sit back and get comfortable.”
Otto looked out the window as the desert rolled by. Yeah, get comfortable. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be comfortable for a long, long time.
Chapter 7
JUNE 5, 2016, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
9:15 AM
“Concentrate.”
Jaxon and her martial arts instructor, Marquis, stood in the Grants’ exercise room. Both wore traditional training uniforms—a white cotton top similar to a karate uniform and a pair of black cotton pants. For her first lesson, Marquis had laid padded mats over the central part of the room. Around them was a variety of weights, exercise equipment, a punching bag, and racks of weird weapons Jaxon hadn’t seen outside of a movie. A large window looked out over the Grants’ backyard and her foster father’s greenhouse. Despite Stephen Grant’s invitation to visit his personal botanical laboratory, she hadn’t been taken in there yet.
“Your foster parents told me you’re pretty fit,” Marquis said. He was a lean man in his mid-thirties, with dark features and heavy black eyebrows. “Strength and speed are important, but even more important is concentration and technique. Aikido will teach you how to channel your energy. When a young girl finds herself in danger, it’s usually against a grown man who is much bigger and stronger than she is. Aikido will teach you how to defeat him using his own size and strength.”
Or I can just snap his wrist like a twig, Jaxon replied silently.
The instructor continued. “Aikido is a Japanese martial art. While it was developed in the twentieth century, its roots go back to ancient times. The word can be translated as ‘the way of harmonious spirit.’ By practicing the channeling of external energy, you also align your internal energy. I don’t mind telling you Aikido’s brought me a lot of inner peace. I was pretty messed up when I was your age—just ask the LAPD.” Marquis grinned.
“So this is, like, meditation or something?” Jaxon asked.
“You can think of it as moving meditation. It’s also a nonviolent means of self-defense.”
“How can self-defense be nonviolent?”
“By defeating your opponent with his own violent energy. You don’t turn that violent energy into violence but into a trap. Aikido has a number of techniques like flips, wrist locks, and dodges. First let me demonstrate, then I’ll show you some techniques you can practice. Ready? Throw me to the floor. If you can’t do that, try to stop me from moving. If you can’t do that, just try to hold on to me.”
Jaxon snorted. This guy didn’t know what he was up against. Careful you don’t hurt him. He’s a nice enough guy, if a bit cocky.
Without warning, Jaxon lunged forward. She meant to grab his shoulders, spin him around, and toss him to the mat.
That didn’t happen.
He wasn’t in front of her anymore. In a flash and a blur, he was beside and a little behind her.
Jaxon spun around and tried to grab him again. This time he didn’t even bother to move his feet. He simply twisted his upper body in a confusing way that dazzled Jaxon’s vision. One of her hands missed him completely. The other briefly touched his arm before he slipped out of her grasp.
Jaxon made another swipe and didn’t even connect.
“You seem to be going for my arm,” Marquis said. “Very well, here you go.”
He stuck his arm forward, elbow bent so his forearm was between him and her, as if he was some gentleman in a historical movie, offering his arm to the lady of the manor so they could walk through the garden.
That’s totally a trap. Jaxon pretended to go for the arm he offered and instead reached below it to grab at his belt.
It was gone before her fingertips made it within an inch. Marquis was behind her again. Jaxon growled in frustration.
“Okay, let’s try again,” he said. “Now I’ll let you grab both my shoulders. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. Aikido isn’t about hurting your opponent, it’s about neutralizing him.”
Marquis stood motionless in front of her. Warily, Jaxon put her hands on his shoulders. She had to reach up a bit because he was a full six feet tall and she was only five feet three. He probably underestimated her because she was short. Lots of people did that. Out of frustration, she gripped a little harder than she needed to.
Marquis should have let out a yelp of pain. He should have writhed and struggled. Instead he gyrated in what could only be described as some sort of arcane dance move. Jaxon felt her grip slip away.
Her Aikido instructor stayed close, letting Jaxon try to get a hold of him, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t get a decent grip. It was like wrestling with an empty shirt.
Jaxon felt her frustration growing. She always avoided fights, and now that she was in one, her opponent was making a fool of her. Sure, he kept a calm face, but she would bet a million bucks he was laughing on the inside.
Gritting her teeth, she renewed her efforts. She swung at him, tried to grapple, forgetting, in her anger, to hold back her strength and speed. The two fighters danced around the mat in a blur, moving more by sense than sight.
After a minute, Jaxon realized she wasn’t even touching him anymore.
“Damn it!” she shouted.
She stomped off the mat and gave the punching bag a hard right hook that sent it swinging high enough to slap the ceiling. Jaxon didn’t see that. She was already leaving the room.
Isadore blocked the exit. She frowned at her foster daughter, arms folded. “Marquis was very difficult to hire. He’s in high demand. You’re not going to waste your lesson, are you?”
“He’s not teaching me anything!”
“That’s because you’re not paying attention. Go back and finish your lesson.”
Jaxon growled and almost shoved past Isadore. At the last moment, Jaxon controlled herself. She didn’t want to get kicked out of yet another foster home in her first week. She had a good thing here—her own room, an amazing mansion to live in, and all sorts of private lessons. The Grants seemed eager to give her plenty of education. If she got kicked out, who knew where she’d end up? Maybe some run-down place where they only wanted her for the money the state gave out, or the home of some pervert.
So she had no choice but to buck up and face the situation. When did she ever have a choice? Jaxon growled, turned, and walked back to the mat. The punching bag was still swinging, almost touching the ceiling. Jaxon glanced at it. The thing weighed fifty pounds at least. She had to hide her abilities better or she would be singled out again.
>
Marquis smiled at her. He didn’t seem to have noticed the punching bag. That struck her as odd, but she was too angry to think about it.
“Ready to try again?” he asked.
“Whatever.”
“Now this time, try to keep your emotions in check. You don’t want to get mad in a fight. Anger will cloud your judgment and make you lose. Anger is what gets people into fights in the first place, so that is their first mistake. Fear will do the same since they are so often linked. Keep your mind clear and detached from what you are doing.”
Skip the Yoda crap and let’s fight, okay?
“Ready?” Marquis asked.
“Whatever.”
Jaxon approached more carefully this time, knowing Marquis wouldn’t be as easy to hit as those soldiers in the greenhouse. Thinking of them, she decided it might not be a bad idea to pick up some tips. They might prove useful if those guys come back. Marquis was right. She should try to calm herself and learn something.
She feinted to the left then shot to the right and tried to grab the front of his shirt. To her surprise, she actually managed to. A moment later, she realized he had let her. She was flung around, lost her footing, and would have fallen if Marquis hadn’t caught her and, spinning her again, made her pirouette a good five feet away.
Without missing a beat, she dove for his legs. This time she was scooped up off her feet and set down. Before she could make a move, Marquis had backed off.
Grinding her teeth, Jaxon lunged and grabbed for him again.
It was the same as their first fight. He dodged this way and that, faster than even her incredible reflexes could follow. Her fingers grasped empty air or barely brushed the fabric of his uniform.
“Bit like life’s problems, isn’t it?” Marquis said as he bobbed just out of reach. He was grinning, and that made Jaxon even angrier. “You wrestle with them, you scream at them, and the solution always eludes you. And that’s because”—he grabbed her and flipped her—“if you charge at them like a raging bull, they’ll end up defeating you.”
Jaxon was flat on her back, yet she hadn’t felt a thing. He hadn’t thrown her to the mat; he had placed her there.
Okay, she definitely needed to learn from this guy. But first, she needed to put him in his place.
She sprang to her feet and launched herself at him. Of course he wasn’t there once she made it.
Suddenly she couldn’t move her arm. Marquis had her in a wrist-and-arm lock, pushing her hand down and her elbow the wrong way. Jaxon stared, bewildered. It didn’t hurt at all, but she couldn’t move.
Gritting her teeth, she put more energy into her arm. Slowly, her wrist and elbow began to bend.
Marquis looked impressed. “You’re very strong.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Unfortunately, you can’t solve life’s problems through brute strength.”
Jaxon found herself on her back once again. This time she didn’t get up. She didn’t see much point.
Marquis put his hands on his hips and looked down at her. “Are you quitting on me?”
“I’m not a quitter,” Jaxon growled. “If I was a quitter, I would have slashed my wrists years ago.”
Marquis frowned. “Don’t talk about suicide. You’re sixteen years old. I know people dying of AIDS who still cling to life, knowing that it’s precious. Life is the most valuable gift we’re ever given. It’s not something to be thrown away.”
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t off myself. Faced with someone as annoying as you, it’s tempting though. Then at least you’d leave me in peace.”
“Don’t turn into an emo. I thought that group was out of fashion.”
“You should visit my new school. I’ll show you worse.”
Marquis extended his hand.
“I’m not falling for that,” Jaxon said.
“It’s good to be suspicious of your opponent’s motives. Don’t worry though. I’m just offering to help you up.”
“I can help myself,” Jaxon said, getting to her feet.
“That’s what these lessons are supposed to teach you. Shall we try again?”
Jaxon shrugged. “What for? You’ll only throw me down again.”
“That’s because you’ll try to solve the same problem the same way, and since it didn’t work the last several times, it won’t work again. Let me show you some techniques that will work.”
For the next two hours, Marquis took her through several basic moves. He showed her the proper stance to lower her center of gravity and make it harder for someone to knock her down. He showed her various blocks using her arms and legs, and he demonstrated them by attacking her slowly while telling her what he was going to do. Once she got the hang of it, he increased his speed. Soon he stopped telling her how he was going to attack. Jaxon’s abnormally fast reactions meant she could easily stop him, but she saw that the techniques of Aikido made her blocks easier and more effective.
They also kept her from snapping Marquis’s wrists. He may be annoying, but only perverts deserved that.
As the afternoon’s lesson continued, Jaxon found herself growing calmer. The movements Marquis was teaching her really were like a moving meditation. Plus they were useful. The threat of those mysterious men in the greenhouse still troubled her. She needed to take in all this martial arts stuff for if—no, when—they found her again.
In the meantime, she was really enjoying it. She had always hated sports class because the other girls would make fun of her for being short or weird-looking or whatever, and she was always picked last even though she wasn’t the worst player. This was different though. Putting a ball through a basket was just a game. Learning how to block an attacker’s punch could be a lifesaver.
And Jaxon had a feeling she’d put these lessons into practice sooner rather than later.
Chapter 8
JUNE 5, 2016, MOJAVE DESERT, NEVADA
6:30 PM
Otto woke up when the car stopped. The excitement of his prison break and the tension of the long car ride with a crowd of heavily armed strangers had exhausted him, and he had drifted off to sleep. He didn’t know how many miles of desert had passed by as his body and mind took a break.
Now the sky was reddening to the west, and he found himself in a barren stretch of desert. The car had stopped at the end of a dirt road in front of a gate and a chain-link fence topped by razor wire. Beyond were a couple of prefab homes and some trailers. Four Rottweilers stood behind the fence, barking their heads off.
“Welcome to your new home,” Yuhle said from the seat next to him. The scientist adjusted his glasses and gave Otto a triumphant smile. He’d stowed his pistol, which was just fine by Otto. He suspected Yuhle didn’t really know how to use it and might shoot his foot off.
“Where are we?” Otto asked, rubbing his eyes.
“The middle of nowhere, honey,” Vivian said from the driver’s seat. “No nightclubs, no bars, no cinemas, no shopping malls… I call it Boringville.”
“War is weeks of grinding boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror,” Grunt said, stepping out of the car. He flung out his arms and ran to the gate. “My babies! Did you miss me?”
The Rottweilers wagged their tails and jumped up on the fence, making it shake to its foundations. Grunt punched a key code into a panel by the side of the gate. With a low hum from a hidden motor, the gate slowly slid open. The Rottweilers ran out and leapt on Grunt, licking his face and hands.
“Oh, I missed you so much!” Grunt cooed as he petted them.
Otto got out of the car and walked toward the dogs. The Rottweilers spotted him, snarled, and charged
“Yikes!” Otto cried, hurrying back toward the car.
“Heel!” Grunt shouted.
The Rottweilers stopped as if they’d slammed into an invisible wall. They immediately sat on their haunches and glared at Otto, licking their chops.
“Don’t worry,” the mercenary said. “They’re just not used to you.”
<
br /> Vivian drove the car through the gate, leaving Otto stranded in the driveway with the dogs and Grunt.
“Um, you sure they’re not going to eat me?” Otto asked.
Grunt gave him a wicked grin. “Not unless I tell them to. This here is War, this little darling’s name is Famine, she’s Pestilence, and the last one is Death. I named them after the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”
“How charming.” Otto made a wide circle around them and slipped through the gate as a menacing growl emerged from four canine throats.
The car had shot forward in a cloud of dust and grit and been parked by a few other vehicles—three cars, a van with no windows, and a Humvee. No one else was in sight, but he noticed security cameras posted in strategic locations around the compound, covering every approach. The little cluster of buildings stood on a low rise, offering a good view of the surrounding desert. Otto looked back the way he had come and saw that the dirt path ran for almost a mile before becoming a gravel road leading off toward the horizon.
As he thumbed in the key code to lock the gate again, Grunt said, “We’re in the middle of nowhere. Our nearest neighbors are five miles away. A group of survivalists. I’ve checked on them, and I’m sure they’ve checked on us. They won’t be any trouble. A little beyond that is some religious nut job family. One man and I don’t know how many wives, plus a whole mess of kids. All that guy wants is to be left alone to rule his little version of paradise. He won’t be any trouble either.”
Ordering the dogs to stay, Grunt followed Otto toward the buildings where Yuhle and Vivian waited for them.
“So now what?” Otto asked once they’d joined up with them.
Yuhle shrugged. “Not much. Just save your girlfriend, defeat a maverick general, elude the Pentagon and CIA, and reunite the lost citizens of Atlantis.”
Otto laughed. It all sounded so ridiculous. “The four of us are going to do all that?”
“Five. You haven’t met Edward yet,” Vivian said.
“Yeah, the four of us and a guy named Edward,” Otto muttered, shaking his head. He was beginning to think he had been kidnapped by lunatics. Maybe he should run off and take his chances with the religious nut jobs.
