savage 04 - the savage vengeance

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  His eyes flicked to Philip's. “Do not concern yourself with me, save Calia!”

  Daniel threw the branch at Philip, who deftly caught it and ran after Calia, locating her easily with the force of her hoarse calls for help.

  Calia was losing her fight with the fragment. She was an excellent fighter but he weighed more, he was stronger. Her skill was more but he was outpacing her with sheer weight.

  He struck her twice in the face and she began to fall, it was too much damage in too little time. Calia began to see stars even as he loosened his breeches.

  He had every intention of raping her.

  And Calia was helpless to stop him, her head ringing so badly she hung on to consciousness by the thinnest thread. She did the one thing she could, embarrassed by her weakness.

  Driven by her raw fear.

  She screamed. Calia screamed for help for the first time in her life.

  And prayed that someone would answer.

  Lyle looked down at the battered female and never had he felt such satisfaction as he did in this minute. The fragment were a naturally opportunistic lot, taking whatever they could, when they needed it or an opening presented itself.

  Like now.

  He watched as she held onto awareness by the slimmest margin. He ran a hand through his hair, fouled by battle and lack of care and smiled. It would be far more pleasurable if he could take her when she fought him. But he would take her if she was unconscious.

  He would take her regardless.

  For the second time that day, he loosened his pants, stripping the belt from the loops. He looped the belt in his fist. He would beat her with it if she tried to resist him further.

  He was gratified when her lovely eyes, like shimmering pools of gold, widened in horror and she began to wail her fear to the heavens.

  He smiled.

  While others warred, Lyle would be here, in this secret and stolen moment with the female.

  He moved toward Calia, landing on her body without finesse or regard for her welfare.

  Her humanity.

  Lyle began his assault with precision.

  With long-honed practice.

  Calia groaned as the vile male landed on her belly, straddling her, the strange leather implement fisted in his palm like a weapon. His horrible arousal pressed against her flat stomach with brutal intent.

  Shredded and torn cries left her mouth as he buried the belt against her tender throat slits. Unconsciousness rippled like water under her skin, her breath cut short by the pressure of the belt, the battery to her head causing her vision to dim further.

  When he rose above her using one arm and jerked her tunic up, leaving her bareness beneath him she reacted as he tried to shove a knee between her legs.

  Calia ground her teeth together and moved the one leg he had inadvertently freed to try to push her legs apart and swung her knee into the most tender part of his groin.

  It was not a true blow but it gave him pause, as she had intended.

  Lyle rolled onto his side, clutching his testicles like they were such a prize as Calia rolled the opposite way, her stomach trying to heave beside her.

  Too much abuse, not enough food, she was weak before her body's reactions. Even as she fought throwing up, Lyle rose, one hand against his nethermost region, the other reaching for her head.

  Not again, Calia thought, the dizziness and nausea was more than she could combat. She fell against the ground and felt his hand pass through her hair as she fell.

  Then she heard the sounds of fighting, flesh being pummeled.

  Calia would know that sound anywhere.

  She opened her eyes, her arms clutched around her stomach protectively, one eye swollen shut and readied herself for more war, to fight yet another if she must.

  But it was Daniel. He had beaten upon the fragment until his brains spilled onto the frozen moss of the forest floor, the gray blending in with the dirty ice.

  She tried to sit up and ask if she was safe, if the battle was over but a numbness was stealing over her and she was cold.

  So cold.

  Calia wished to sleep.

  When she felt a familiar warmth spread over her she found she had been asleep for a moment and strong hands held her head as warm water struck her face.

  It was raining, Calia thought, lucidity abandoned.

  She opened her one good eye and saw the deepest brown gaze she had ever known look down upon her.

  It was not rain.

  But tears.

  Darkness expanded and contracted, finally enveloping her.

  Calia slept.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  James could not sleep. Instead, he watched the dawn creep in across the land, blooming a pre-light white, streaming in through his open window, cracked against the chill.

  His thoughts were on the woman of the sphere, Sarah.

  He rolled over in his bed. Less a comfort in some respects as his bedroll beneath the stars. He was here but to secure the clan. Four only.

  James thought about what his brethren had encountered from the fragment? Had they battled? Had they reclaimed Clara and were even now on their way to the sphere?

  Sleep would not come, no matter how much he wished for it. He threw his bed covers aside and rose, pressing his hands until the flats of them palmed the ceiling above his head. He stood that way, stiff and true then relaxed his posture.

  His belly rumbled in protest and he rolled his eyes. It was always well and good to be built like the ox, but one must eat like one as well, to maintain the proper strength for the Band.

  A warrior must be well-fed.

  But before he ate, or checked on the lovely female he could not eradicate from his every thought, James would check if there be word from the sphere. For he had sent the pigeon to President Bowen as instructed. But James had deviated from that as well. Once the bird returned, he had clasped the copper tube to its snowy breast and sent it aloft again on a second errand, known by none but he.

  He wished to know the instant the Band reached the damaged sphere. He had a tight feeling of unease about it he could not name.

  James strode to the pigeon pen and saw that the pure white pigeon had returned.

  James unrolled the message and stilled where he stood. He read the message thrice to ascertain that it was not in error, or that he misread.

  Dearest ally of the Kingdom of Ohio,

  We have been taken under siege by our neighboring sphere. It was all that we could do to surreptitiously fashion this message of alarm.

  More troubling still, is the presence of Caesar, relative and next in line for the throne of the Kingdom of Kentucky. We fear he is quite mad, that those of the Band will come upon him unawares.

  We understand that he kidnapped our queen and even now has a ridiculous plan to bind her to him and rule both kingdoms and mayhap more.

  As it were, the degradation of the sphere continues, unabated.

  It is a dark time in which we call upon our alliance in our most desperate hour.

  Please come, if you are able.

  Yours,

  Abel Pierce, Acting Prime Minister

  This day of December the thirty-first, In the Year of the Guardian, twenty and thirty-two.

  James crumpled the note in his fist and ran to the dwelling of the remaining Band.

  President Bowen's Band would intercept his own. All falling into a trap of ignorance.

  But the numbers may overwhelm them nevertheless.

  A trap of greatness lay in wait for his Bandmates.

  Ready to be sprung.

  James ran harder.

  *

  Philip scooped up Calia like a broken doll, never noticing the wetness on his face, his gaze meeting Daniel's. His weapon wet with the blood of the fragment who had caused terrible damage to this female.

  Philip shook with rage and sadness, his chest banded with tightness, his breath coming hard and fast. He pressed the light weight of Calia against him protectively and gave
a low growl at Daniel's approach.

  Daniel watched the biggest and bravest man he'd ever known give a growl of warning at his proximity and threw up his hands in supplication.

  “I'm not a threat, Philip,” Daniel said in a low and soothing voice.

  Daniel waited until Philip got control of his emotions and came nearer, clapping his back lightly. “Let's get back to the group, we can figure out her care there.”

  Philip paused for a moment with his strange speech, then nodded. They plodded through the icy river that had earlier sucked his boots into the bottom without too much difficulty. Why hadn't it been that simple when she was pleading for her life? Philip glowered.

  He hated that he had not been able to spare her some of what she had suffered at the fragment's hands.

  Daniel studied Philip's face as they traversed the incline which led away from the river, their sure footing eating the distance and commented in a low voice, “I killed him slowly.”

  Philip reached the crest of the incline and could vaguely make out the bodies, the Band.

  The blood of the fallen.

  Philip allowed a small smile and turned to Daniel. “Thank you.”

  Daniel smiled back. “You are most welcome.”

  The two men walked out, the fragile burden carried between them like the finest treasure.

  ****

  Caleb's World

  Jade put the pulse-pad on her knees, the group loaded up behind her. John held up the stolen file, giving it to her, she inserted it into the integral pulse reader and it opened with a pass code.

  John whistled. “Dammit, it's thought-driven. I was afraid of this. We'll never crack this nut.”

  Alex laughed and John gave him The Look. Properly chastised, he sobered up in hurry.

  Jade frowned, thinking. “Maybe one of you guys could work your magic on it and it will open?” she quizzed the group.

  John grinned. “Nice Jade.” He swung his gaze to Archer. “Think you could give it a shot?”

  Archer nodded. “I haven't tried to crack a government super-secret file through a pulse thread but I can give it a try.” He winked.

  Tiff popped a bubble. “Stop yammering and nail that turkey so we can save the world and all that happy crap.”

  Bry gave his sister the Sibling Stare. “What?” she asked, all innocent, snapping her bubble about fifty times like firecrackers. Sophie winced. “Can ya not... with the damn gum.”

  Tiff thought about it. “No.”

  Sophie threw up her hands. “Gawd, whatever!”

  Tiff smiled. “Calms my nerves, animal lover.”

  Sophie's eyes narrowed on Tiff. “I dig animal print clothes, that doesn't mean I'm like the PETA wackos.”

  Caleb was silently so glad his mom wasn't around to hear the slam against PETA.

  “Aren't those the yahoos that capture boats and shit?” Jonesy asked.

  “Nah, that's dumbass Greenpeace,” Tiff said, popping another bubble.

  Jonesy nodded, satisfied.

  “Okay, this is so amusing but...” Archer pointed at Jade's pulse-pad.

  Right, Caleb thought, back to The Plan. “I say go for it and we'll exhaust other crap if it doesn't work.”

  “Wouldn't the Graysheets have contingency plans up the ass for a hack as simple as a Lock-Manipulator gettin' his groove on with their top secret shit?” Jonesy asked reasonably.

  Yeah, Caleb thought, maybe. He nodded at Archer. “Do your mojo. Let's not borrow the stress.”

  “Gramps?” Jonesy asked.

  “Yeah, he says, 'don't borrow the worry'.”

  “Whatever,” Tiff said impatiently, moving her hand in the classic, get a move on, motion.

  Archer touched the screen on the pulse-pad and the password inquiry flickered. He looked at Caleb and the Js, shaking his head slightly.

  “Crap!” Jonesy said, flinging his arms up in the air and lacing his hands together he brought them to rest on the crown of his head. He began pacing, his folded arms standing out from his head like wings. “This isn't gonna work! Why would lame-ass Parker give us access to a file that we couldn't open?”

  Caleb thought about it. The skills they possessed should be enough to work through it he thought... maybe... he was on the epiphany of resolution when John snapped his fingers.

  Their gazes swung to an agitated Jonesy. He stopped pacing, his arms dropping to his sides loosely. “What is it, braniacs?”

  John said, “I think, since pulse tech is electronic in its basest level, that foundation should give you the control to manipulate that file wide open. And with that, Archer can assert his skill. Together, you can unlock it.”

  “What?” Jonesy asked, frustration in his tone, his eyes going from Caleb to John.

  John opened his mouth and Caleb put his hand on his chest, “I got this, Terran.”

  His mouth snapped closed and Caleb said, “we need you to kinda fry the pulse file to break its signal so Archer can go in there and unlock it.”

  “Well hell! Why didn't ya say so? Doofuses!”

  “They did, ya dumbass,” Tiff said, spitting her gum into the separator.

  “Guys!” Jade said, waving her palm at the pulse-pad.

  Jonesy glowered at the group, striding over to the pad he reached out to touch it and Archer jogged over to intercept and threw his hand out, their fingers collided as they touched the pad.

  A bright light burst from the pulse-pad and Jade just about dumped the thing on the floor, but managed to keep it still.

  John and the others rushed over to where they stood looking down at the pulse-pad.

  The screen lit up, the traditional luminescent green characters coming together to read:

  Welcome back, Zondorae Brothers

  John smiled in triumph and pressed his thumb to the pad of Jade's pulse-reader. He stood silently, assimilating the information.

  The group shifted their weight, wiggling, scratching, mumbling. Finally, after five minutes of silence, John slowly removed his thumb.

  He looked as grave as Caleb had ever seen him.

  Tiff, usually the most obnoxious of the group put her hand on his arm almost tenderly. “What is it, John?” She looked up at him, her hazel eyes dark with worry.

  “I don't think it's just the dome world that's in trouble,” he stated flatly.

  “Come on, Terran, spill it,” Jonesy said, his hands pegged on his hips.

  “It's our world too. The dome world is nothing but a big experiment. They were playing God with them.” John turned to Caleb. “Your dad may have mapped the human genome, but these guys that 'found' the markers?”

  The group nodded.

  “They found the markers, then used the genetic code from another people to splice onto said discovered paranormal markers.”

  “So?” Jonesy shrugged.

  John sighed and Archer kicked in, “What he's saying is, that the dome people... that we're sorta...”

  “Related,” Alex said, perv issues aside, he wasn't a dull tool in the drawer, Caleb knew.

  “Wait. When did this all this happen?” Randi asked.

  John nodded. “That's a great question. Looks like the Graysheets have been playing with transference and spacial issues for a long time. When they discovered this other world had been decimated by natural disaster, but the people that survived it... they appeared... resilient in a way that would not have been possible here.”

  “So the dudes with the gills?” Sophie asked.

  John nodded. “Them or someone like them. Whatever it was, it got them thinking that the genetic diversity within that gene pool would be a fine mix with the discovered markers.”

  Tiff studied John. “Wait a sec, that's not all, right?”

  John's face kinda fell. “No,” he said quietly. “It appears they've manipulated their history as well. They wanted to get to a fresher source so they used this Transference passage they named the Pathway. They manipulated it for both distance and... time.”

  “Holy shit!
” Bry said, slapping his forehead. “So these clowns went back in time, screwed around with shit they shouldn't have, to what...?” he looked at everyone, realization dawning, “they could 'grow people' for future advancement in our world? Now!? That's utter bullshit.”

  “I call it, bro,” Tiff said and they did a high five to clench the point.

  Huh, Caleb thought, shaking his head at the Weller duo.

  John nodded. “Pretty much. And,” he raised his finger, “they used electromagnetic pulse technology to construct the domes. It's really brilliant actually...”

  The group rolled their eyes as John went into a lengthy discussion about the implementation of the most modern and environmentally intelligent choices for the dome people's daily living, steam-powered everything.

  “You mean, they live in this sauna of a dome and don't have lights and showers and crap?” Tiff asked.

  John laughed and shook his head. “No, I think they intended for them to live, without interference, for an indefinite time frame, then there would be degradation of the dome from some unknown cause, and the people of the domes would be gradually integrated into the outside, living in an environment which had recovered from whatever tragedy occurred.”

  “Wait a sec,” Caleb began. “There's some stuff that doesn't make sense.” All eyes fell on him and Jade stood, putting her arm around his waist. “Who caused the problem with the dome?” Caleb asked, thinking of the holes all over the walls. “Why would the Zondorae brothers care so much to construct all of these dome-things, then let them get ruined?”

  John said, “Actually, they're spheres, they're partially buried underneath the earth's surface. Thermal nuclear energy helps with stabilizing the temperature, the operational systems, pulse, all of it. Once they got what they needed, they were just going to wash their hands of it.”

  The group looked at John.

  He sighed. “I guess it doesn't make much difference if it's a dome or sphere to you guys?”

  They all shook their heads.