Messiahs

by Matt Rogers

Addison stood there, her hair tousled from sleep, her eyes half-closed. ‘You weren’t in the bunk when I woke up. What are you doing?’

  Brandon stepped away from Alexis and returned his finger to the trigger, aiming it at his hostage again. ‘This isn’t your business, Addison. Go back to bed.’

  Addison met Alexis’ eyes and then lifted her gaze to Brandon. ‘Who told you to do this?’

  ‘Maeve.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Addison said. ‘I really hope so.’

  ‘You think I’d hold her at gunpoint for no reason?’

  ‘What’s the reason?’

  ‘Confidential,’ Brandon said, then his face began to redden as he turned hot. ‘Go back to bed!’

  Addison said, ‘Fuck off, Brandon. If Maeve is telling you to do this, then I’m just as involved as you are. We came here together, in case you forgot.’

  ‘She didn’t ask you, did she?’

  Addison didn’t reply, but she didn’t retreat either. She looked at Alexis again.

  Alexis mouthed, Help me.

  Addison didn’t react.

  But when she turned her attention back to Brandon, she said, ‘Let’s stop this shit, okay? We’re taking this too far. I should have said something earlier…’

  Brandon said, ‘About what?’

  ‘This isn’t the life for us, Brandon.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘We don’t belong here.’

  Now Brandon’s eyes were hot along with his face. Rage burned bright behind them.

  He trained the gun on his sister.

  ‘Blasphemy!’ he shouted. ‘Who got to you? Who fed you lies? Was it this bitch here?’

  Addison froze, her face paling. ‘You’re insane. You’re not my brother. Not anymore.’

  Brandon tensed up with rage.

  Alexis lunged for the Beretta.

  83

  Violetta managed to quash the panic in her chest and save face.

  She didn’t outwardly react, just furrowed her brow in confusion. ‘Pregnant?’

  Maeve said, ‘Don’t play stupid, girl.’

  ‘I’m not…’ Violetta said, trailing off into introspection. ‘This is the first I’m hearing of this.’

  ‘No it’s not,’ Maeve said. ‘I’m not going to punish you. You don’t need to worry. In fact, I have good news. Exceptional news. It’s going to change your life. It’s going to change us all…’

  Violetta didn’t answer.

  Beneath her facade, she was crippled by fear.

  Maeve said, ‘I was told you were pregnant. Gaia spoke to me, whispered to me in the middle of the night. And I can see on your face that it’s true. You don’t need to deny it anymore. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re safe here, my dear.’

  Violetta had no idea how to play it.

  Deny? Stick to her guns? Admit it? Act grateful that Maeve was aware?

  How does she know? she thought.

  Her head reeling, she said, ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t familiar enough with this place to admit it. I was going to tell you, as soon as I was comfortable here.’

  ‘You’re not comfortable?’

  ‘I’m getting there,’ Violetta said. Her voice shook. She didn’t need to fake it. ‘Just … it’s a lot to handle right now. I didn’t know if I belonged here. Now I know I do.’

  Maeve beamed. ‘That’s lovely to hear, Violetta. And really, there’s no need to be alarmed. I have a deeper connection to Mother Earth than anyone on this planet. When she delivers me a message, I listen dutifully. And she told me that your child is special. In more ways than you will ever know. He has warrior blood, warrior mana. A warrior spirit. He is the future of Mother Libertas, Violetta. That is what I was told. That is what I believe.’

  Violetta’s head spun.

  Does she know who I am? she thought. Does she know my real identity?

  It was eerily coincidental if she didn’t. Almost too coincidental. The child of Jason King, one of the most devastating government operatives in history, coupled with Violetta’s athletic prowess and genetics…

  If warrior blood was real, the baby growing in her womb had plenty of it.

  But does Maeve know? Or is she making it up as she goes along?

  Maeve said, ‘I’m afraid your place here is no longer voluntary. Your baby has been chosen by the Earth. It will be raised here, boy or girl, and it will lead Mother Libertas into upheaving society. It will bring a new world into existence, Violetta.’

  Violetta needed air.

  Now.

  She got to her feet.

  Maeve said, ‘Sit down, dear.’

  Through sharp breaths, Violetta said, ‘I need some fresh air. I’m sorry. I’m panicking.’

  ‘Your head is panicking,’ Maeve said. ‘Your heart and soul see clear…’

  But her words wouldn’t work this time.

  Violetta knew if she kept playing along, she might very well be imprisoned until her baby was born. King and Slater couldn’t protect themselves from two hundred disciples with their bare hands, and if Maeve sent them into a frenzy, preying on their groupthink and tribalism, they would attack the newcomers with no regard for their own lives. In the face of those numbers, whether the disciples were trained or not, King and Slater would succumb.

  This was the endgame.

  If Violetta stayed and tried to play along, she could wind up in a cell, helpless.

  Your child is in mortal danger.

  It made her forget the risks, forget the cover. Nothing mattered but her baby’s safety, and it overrode her.

  She walked away from Maeve without a second look.

  84

  King made it almost all the way up the trail before he realised there was someone waiting for him.

  A tall lanky silhouette, standing with the restrained poise of a lifelong martial artist.

  Elias stared at him as he approached. ‘Has Maeve requested your presence?’

  King nodded. ‘Yeah. It’s urgent. Step aside.’

  Elias shook his head. ‘If you were telling the truth I’d already know about it. I’m still the head of security, you see. Nothing from Maeve gets past me without my knowledge. What are you really doing here?’

  ‘Kid,’ King said, ‘if you don’t move, I’m going to beat the living shit out of you.’

  Elias bristled. It was the first outward threat any of the newcomers had made, and although he’d suspected they weren’t who they seemed all along, the confirmation was still shocking all the same.

  Elias adopted a Wing Chun posture, loosening his muscles. ‘If you really want to try…’

  King sighed.

  He didn’t have time for this.

  And the unknowns were palpable. Dane was somewhere below in the commune, doing who knows what. Maeve was inside with Violetta. Alexis could be anywhere. Slater was still AWOL.

  Fighting this moron would achieve nothing, and might end up making things a hundred times worse if Elias raised the alarm.

  Then the front door of the farmhouse burst open and Violetta hustled out onto the porch. She was breathing hard, the colour drained from her cheeks.

  King stared at her. ‘Are you okay?’

  Elias said, ‘You two know each other?’

  ‘Shut the fuck up.’

  Elias darted at King and threw a palm strike at incredible speed. King had underestimated Elias’ ferocity, because the kid came at him so fast he barely saw the strike before it whistled through the air at him. But he hadn’t pioneered a black-ops division for no reason. His reflexes were just as superhuman, and he sidestepped and shoved Elias in the chest. The man lost his footing and tumbled away from the house, tripping on a stray rock and collapsing into a ditch. He was more dangerous than King had anticipated, but following him into the ditch was a terrible idea.

  With so many unknowns in the mix and the entire commune bristling like it was a pinprick away from bursting, every move had to be smart and calculated.

  Which sometimes meant retrea
t.

  King repeated, ‘Are you okay?’

  Violetta’s voice was barely audible, but King read her lips. ‘She knows I’m pregnant.’

  Ice ran through King’s veins.

  He thought, Fuck.

  He said, ‘Come on.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We find the others,’ King said. ‘Then we get out.’

  ‘But the Riordans…?’

  ‘Your safety trumps the mission,’ he said. ‘Now let’s go.’

  Elias was scrabbling out of the ditch, his clothes dirtied and his morale wounded, when Violetta ran down the porch steps and took King’s outstretched hand.

  Maeve stepped out onto the porch behind them.

  Her voice flooded the night. ‘Where are you lovebirds going?’

  King ran with her, down the trail.

  Elias and Maeve watched them go in menacing silence.

  85

  Elias turned to Maeve. ‘You want me to go after them?’

  ‘They have nowhere to run,’ Maeve said. ‘Dane will handle it. I want you to go find the other one.’

  ‘Slater?’

  Maeve nodded slowly. ‘Now we know he’s King’s brother operative. We know their history. There’s no chance he ran away. He’s out there, at the perimeter, waiting for the Bodhi to wear off. Go find him.’

  ‘What do you want me to do with him?’

  She stared down at him from the porch. ‘What do you think?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  He charged his ki, prepared himself to deliver a fatal strike.

  It would mark the first time he’d used his skillset against a resisting opponent.

  He couldn’t wait.

  86

  Brandon didn’t see it coming.

  He’d anticipated many things, but Alexis being able to hold her own in a fistfight wasn’t one of them.

  She tackled him to the church aisle, and his skull struck the concrete as it whiplashed. The Beretta came out of his hand, but Alexis had no chance of snatching it. Reality never works with precise coordination like in the movies — it’s inherently random.

  So the gun skidded under one of the pews and stayed there.

  Brandon was nearly fifty pounds heavier than her.

  If they ended up in a neutral position, he’d beat her to death. That’s physics. There’s no way around it. Fifty pounds is fifty pounds, and it’s distributed across muscle and bone structure to provide an incredible advantage. If they were standing up, and Alexis punched him in the face, it’d maybe break his nose. If he punched her in the face, she’d snap out of consciousness instantly, maybe for a long time. There was every chance he’d put her in a coma.

  All she had to rely on was the advantage of surprise.

  She’d managed to take him down simply because he hadn’t been expecting it. Now she was on top, in mount position, and he was possibly concussed from his head bouncing off the stone floor.

  Aside from that, she had nothing.

  So she made full use of her advantage.

  She targeted his forehead with the point of her elbow and dropped her limb hard, aiming to slice instead of strike. It worked. Her elbow ran a jagged line across the skin of his brow, splitting it, sending blood flowing down his face.

  She lined up another elbow…

  …but he bucked her off like she weighed nothing.

  She realised she’d massively miscalculated. Drawing blood had both brought him back to his senses and enraged him. It had put him in fight-or-flight mode, and now he was fighting like an animal. Alexis tumbled across her back as she spilled off him. One of the pews stopped her momentum and she started scrabbling to her feet.

  Brandon was already on his feet.

  He charged her, grabbed her around the waist and picked her up.

  Terror seized her.

  She was out of control, no limb in contact with the ground, and her life was in Brandon’s hands.

  He could do whatever he wanted to her.

  He kept lifting, then changed direction and slammed her down on the pew.

  On her neck.

  An inch or two to the left or right and she would have been paralysed forever, but she recognised which way she was going in mid-air and tucked her chin to her chest in anticipation. Brandon drove her into the wooden seat across her upper back, bruising the muscles and maybe tearing something in one of her shoulders, but that was preferable to unconsciousness, paralysis, or death.

  She spilled off the long bench and tumbled to the floor, squashed against the back of the next pew. Brandon stood over her, and raised a foot to stomp her face to mush.

  Alexis’ heart sank and through the pain she suppressed tears.

  This angry kid, his teeth gnashing together in rage, was about to stomp her to death.

  And there was nothing she could do about it.

  A voice said, ‘Don’t you fucking dare.’

  It took Alexis a moment to realise who’d spoken. She’d never heard the voice say anything with confidence.

  Addison’s timidity was gone.

  She was in the aisle, out of sight, so Alexis couldn’t see what she was doing.

  Brandon sure could.

  He slowly lowered his boot and stepped back out of the pew.

  Alexis clambered to her feet, her upper back screaming.

  It was agony, but when she saw Addison, pride overwhelmed the pain.

  Addison aimed the Beretta at her brother.

  Her finger was less than an inch off the trigger.

  Brandon said, ‘You dumb bitch.’

  Addison’s eyes were wet. She composed herself before she spoke. ‘Do you even know who you are anymore? Do you realise what you were about to do?’

  Brandon was beyond reproach. Anger drowned out any chance of introspection. ‘Addison, listen to me. Shut the fuck up and put the gun down before someone comes in and sees you aiming it at me. You know what they’ll do to you? I’m a loyal disciple. You’ve been hit and miss since you got here. Who are they going to side with?’

  ‘You’d get them to kill me?’ Addison said. ‘That’s what you’re saying you’ll do?’

  Brandon said, ‘Trust you to act high and mighty. Remember Karlie?’

  Her throat spasmed as she gulped.

  He nodded, his eyes crazed. ‘Yeah, you remember Karlie. Acting like I’m the devil for hurting this bitch here when you took a baseball bat to an innocent girl’s head. Why don’t you think about your own actions for a while? In the meantime, put the fucking gun down.’

  Addison’s hand trembled.

  Brandon’s voice became monotonic. He knew exactly where to press. ‘Karlie. You killed her.

  ‘Karlie. You beat her brains in.

  ‘Karlie. She was only looking for her brother.

  ‘Karlie…’

  Addison screamed, ‘Shut up!’

  Brandon said, ‘Karlie’s corpse is in the ground. There’s dents in her skull where you swung that bat. I mean, you really gave it your all, didn’t you?’

  Addison squeezed her eyes shut and dropped the gun. She sank to her knees, clamping her hands over her ears, giant sobs wracking her body. A confused, lost, innocent young woman, twisted into something she couldn’t comprehend by Maeve Riordan.

  Alexis felt sick.

  It took Brandon a second to compute the fact there was no longer a gun trained on him.

  That’s what did him in.

  Alexis lurched out of the pew and leapt onto his back, locking in a body-triangle with her legs, clamping to him like a backpack. He spun, arms flailing as he threw punches, but nothing worked. He reached back to gouge her eyes but she already had a forearm around his throat, and she locked the rear naked choke in and wrenched tight.

  That’s the only scenario where fifty pounds of weight difference doesn’t matter.

  It took him fifteen seconds to go out.

  Impressive, considering he should have been down by ten.

  But the end result
was the same.

  He went limp and collapsed, falling forward, face ricocheting off the stone. There was a crack as his nose broke, but he didn’t react. He was already unconscious.

  Alexis clambered off him, and already he was beginning to resurface from unconsciousness, but he wouldn’t be cognisant for at least a couple of minutes.

  She walked over, picked up the Beretta where it had fallen by Addison’s sobbing form, and pulled the girl to her feet.

  ‘Listen to me,’ Alexis said. ‘You’re not a monster. You’re not.’

  ‘Can you do me a favour?’ Addison mumbled between sobs.

  Alexis nodded.

  Addison said, ‘Kill me. I don’t deserve to live.’

  Alexis bowed her head.

  She hated Maeve with every fibre of her being.

  87

  The afterglow made Slater superhuman.

  When he finally came down from the high, there was a hint of daylight in the Wyoming sky. It was the same shade at pre-dawn as it was at dusk — a dark royal blue. The aftereffects of the abundance of chemicals made the colours brighter, but they also sharpened his senses. Reality seemed different — clearer, crisper, in focus.

  Slater worked his way back up the tree trunk, stood on shaky legs, and re-calibrated.

  It took all the effort he could muster.

  The night had lasted both minutes and years. Moments dragged on for all eternity, then whole hours passed in the blink of an eye. He’d experienced the full emotional spectrum, turbulence rattling behind his eyes, but he never let it show, despite the fact there was no one around to see. Briefly, when he gained lucidity amidst the haze, he understood that the commune wouldn’t be the same in the morning. Covers would be blown, confrontations would play out, all while he was forced to sit in the dark and grapple with his mind. He wouldn’t be heading back into the same world he’d walked out of.

  But now he had control of his motor functions and his reflexes, and he breathed in pure elation as he rolled his wrists and they responded.

  Two things happened at once.

  The distant wail of a siren startled him, made him jump, and he realised something was very wrong back in the commune.