by Angela White
Neil and Kyle entered the training room without the respectful nod. Neil had been unable to resist the workout that Adrian would give him. Kyle couldn’t find another excuse for the conversation that he wanted to have after the others had gone. Everyone else had come to either watch the fights or check their skills for the next tests.
Morgan and Greg were the last two students to come through the hall. The two Special Forces men wore foreboding scowls. Neither of them had forgiven him.
Getting a clear spot as the two fighters glared at their former leader, Charlie pulled the trigger…right as Allan came out of the training space.
Blue paint splattered against his shoulder, spraying Adrian’s arm.
“Ow!” Allan spun around, grabbing his shoulder. “What the hell was that?”
Realizing he’d trapped them, Charlie slid deeper into the shadows.
“Uh-uh!” Tracy shoved him back out, determined that he would take the heat for this, not her.
Panicking, Charlie lifted the bulky gun and fired again. If he was going down this fast, he at least wanted to get Adrian.
Allan ducked and rolled inside, out of the crossfire.
Too late to get into the safety of the training chamber in time, Morgan and Greg were splattered with blue paint.
“Come on!” Charlie grabbed Tracy’s hand, dragging her by the surprised Eagles with a pointed glare at Adrian.
“Why you little…!” Morgan growled.
Adrian cleared his throat, wiping away the light splashes. “That was meant for me. Sorry.” Adrian motioned toward the mats. “Paint washes off.”
Tracy’s giggle floated down the hall, convincing the senior men to let it go. Hearing her happy was wonderful.
Charlie thought so, too. So much that he made another rash choice as they passed the small shower area that was for people who had finished a workout or class. Shane, in flip-flops and a large red towel, was leaning against the next entrance–the reading room. Brittani and her group, along with several camp members, were enjoying the quiet and the selection of books. Shane was staring in wistful awe at the black woman sprawled across the plush recliner with a copy of Moby Dick.
Shane heard running feet. As he turned, a cool draft sent chills over his bare legs.
“I got it!”
“No way!”
Still holding hands, Charlie and Tracy fled down the long hall, cackling wildly.
Shane, realizing his towel was gone, turned around to find everyone in the reading chamber staring at him. He dropped a hand over his shriveling parts, flushing scarlet. “Excuse me, will you?” He took off running after the couple. “I’m gonna kill you!”
Gus looked at Brittani, noting her small smile. “These people aren’t right.”
Tracy, caught up in the fun, fired at the naked man chasing them. Instead of being traumatized at the sight of his fury and his big body, Tracy was empowered. Her aim was rusty, however, and the shot went into the TV area, where Shawn had been reading a book to Missy in hopes that she would get sleepy. Pink paint flew through the room, coating his jacket hanging on the wall.
“What’s that?” Jerked into alertness, Missy’s head came up fast, slamming into Shawn’s chin.
“Damn!” Shawn lurched backward, hands coming up to clutch his skull as stars and tiny flickers of hot pain danced in his vision. Hitting the arm of the couch, he flailed helplessly. Losing the fight, he fell over the edge and thumped heavily to the carpet.
“You!” Hilda came by an instant later, shouting and pointing at Shane. “Clothes! You put on some clothes!”
Shane and Hilda moved away from the TV chamber.
Shawn rubbed his chin and jaw, wincing at the fresh flare of pain.
“Your big head hurt me!” Missy accused, staring at him over the arm of the couch. “Say you’re sorry!”
“I am,” Shawn groaned, dazed. “I really am.”
Missy gave him another reproachful glare and then climbed back into her blankets. “I didn’t know you were gonna be so much work.”
Shawn stared at the couch in startled pain. “I’m sorry?”
“That’s better.”
Shawn began to explain it and then stopped, slowly standing. He wasn’t sure he could handle that right now.
More shouting echoed through the tunnels.
“Try again,” Shawn told the girl. “Hilda will quiet them down.”
Missy pointed at the light above them. “Bright.”
Shawn obediently got up to switch off the light, able to hear remnants of the chaos as Hilda tried to convince Shane to get dressed. She insisted on accompanying him, bringing more shouts of unfairness.
Ahead of them, Charlie and Tracy had reached the stairs, but the couple hadn’t counted on the boredom of the Eagles. The noise had brought half a dozen guards from the third level who were now standing at the top of the stairs, staring at Shane in amused surprise.
Charlie spun Tracy toward a small cubby to reload with a huge grin. “Get set. We have to go back.”
Tracy was having too much fun to protest. The guns they were using weren’t harmful and the paint was washable.
Charlie was determined to get Adrian. If that meant running back and forth until he got a clear shot or they were captured, that’s what he would do. “Let’s go.”
Zack and Nancy spun around as Tracy and Charlie burst out of the shadows, but it was too late to evade the pink and blue balls that hit their legs and shoulders.
The laughing pair ran down the hall during the shock, shoving by Hilda and Shane.
“See! They started it!”
Busy arguing with Hilda, Shane didn’t see Tracy stop and take aim.
“Ow!” Shane shouted, jumping forward as he was hit in the ass.
“Tattletale!” Tracy shouted.
Thrilled, Charlie tugged her down the hall.
“Here they come again,” Gus stated. “Maybe we should go downstairs.”
Tracy and Charlie ran by the open doorway, followed by three Eagles.
“Duck!”
Blue paint sprayed the wall of the reading room as one of the men was hit.
“We’re probably safer where we are,” Brittani replied, still smiling. They’d all been cooped up in this mountain for a while now. Paintball sounded like fun. She got up and went to watch, not worried about being caught in the crossfire.
Still near the doorway after he’d turned off the light for Missy, Shawn stared in shock as Shane, naked except for one pink cheek, ran after Tracy and Charlie.
“Idiots.” Determined to get Missy to sleep, Shawn walked toward the couch.
“Give me that towel!” Shane’s voice carried loudly through the tunnels and chambers. “No. Wait! Don’t shoot me there!”
Distracted, Shawn’s foot caught an edge of the rug. He flailed again for balance and lost it, falling over the couch and onto the coffee table.
Startled, Missy began screaming.
“I’m sorry!”
In the next room, Missy’s scream was chilling.
It echoed as if someone was being murdered, causing the training to stop before bodies did. Adrian took Neil’s knee in a bad place.
He dropped to his own, groaning.
“Damn.” Kenn hurried over. “Can I do anything?”
“Your radio,” Adrian grunted, unable to move. “Key…your radio.”
Kenn leaned down, hitting the button.
“Making me…leave the door open…was cruel and unusual punishment,” Adrian complained hoarsely.
Angela’s hard chuckle echoed back.
“What’s going on down there?” Marc barked, busy supervising the mess. With hundreds of members here to eat and many of them new, it was a bad time for leadership to leave. He also wasn’t happy about radio silence being broken for such a trivial matter.
“An unprovoked paintballing, de-towelings, butt decorating, emasculations. Just the usual.”
Aware that most of his Eagles were tied up or off duty, Marc hit the
button on his radio. “FND on level one for off duty Eagles. Quiet things down.”
Billy, Jax, and Quinn immediately tore out of the mess, shoving each other into walls to get the lead.
“They didn’t ask what it was,” Wade noted. He was Marc’s shadow.
“Nope.” Marc snickered. “They’ll remember it next time.”
Wade had already gotten an update from one of the men that the pair had shot. He snorted, thinking of how well both Charlie and Tracy handled their real guns. “Five guys shot so far. Doesn’t say much for security on that level.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Marc agreed. He took out his notebook and wrote that down. He would have to punish Charlie and Tracy, but it had exposed a weakness, so two good things would come from it. Angela would like knowing that Tracy had come out of her shell, no matter the reason why. So did Marc.
Fighting the urge to watch, Marc switched his attention to the camp members who were waiting for his answers on the questions that kept coming. How had Angela stood this all the time?
I enjoyed it, Angela answered tiredly, hard amusement gone. I like the job. You don’t.
Marc couldn’t argue that point. He didn’t try. Instead, he sent her the image of a happily snacking mess of survivors, knowing she would be comforted.
Thank you.
Anything for you, baby cakes, Marc sent.
More than pleased, Angela used a small bit of her recovering energy to bring the shield up around the mountain. It glowed vividly for a few seconds over every doorway, corridor, and chamber, bathing her people in peace. She couldn’t give that to herself, but she could do it for them.
Marc felt the mood shift and recognized the cause and effect, but he couldn’t duplicate that. Only Angela gave the herd this sense of safety. Not even Adrian had provided this level of protection and defense. Angela would do anything, risk anything, to keep them safe and when things went wrong, she was there to take the blows for them. Her weakness for Adrian was her only flaw.
Marc glanced around the mess, but his contemplations went to the training class and Adrian’s strangled words over the radio. He doubted the fun was over up there yet. All the guards were lower level because of so many senior fighters being on that floor for Adrian’s class. Charlie would take advantage of that. As long as Tracy kept laughing, the boy would keep shooting.
2
“Are they training or playing?”
“Both, I believe.”
Instead of her being mad about Gus witnessing the Eagles having fun, Brittani stared at Shane, who had been stopped in his tracks by Zack.
“At least put the towel on,” Zack ordered after listening to Shane’s complaint about Charlie and Tracy. Hilda had gone to get Marc.
“Duck!”
“There they are!”
Ahead of them, another group of Eagles was shot unexpectedly and began shouting.
Jax and Quinn came up the ladder with paintball guns in hand. They’d seen the defeated Eagles on their way up and detoured to grab their gear, hoping it wasn’t over by the time they got here.
In the training space, David edged closer to the door where Shawn was taking Missy to the bathroom. The child appeared calm now, but Shawn didn’t.
Jax and Quinn ran into the storage sector right after Tracy and Charlie, but the clever girl remembered her training and spun around to shoot out the light.
Paint splattered over the bulb, dimming instead of breaking it. Sizzling sounds came from the light.
Tracy dove under a stack of boxes and then crawled away from the noise she’d made, hearing them tearing boxes from neatly stacked lines.
Across the room, Charlie did the same. He also used his gift to track the two Eagles who had gone quiet.
Tracy edged back toward the door; positive that Charlie was doing the same. They’d been trained not to trap themselves and this cavity didn’t have another exit.
Charlie met her at the end of the boxes, waving her to go first.
Behind them, Jax spotted the movement. “There!”
Charlie and Tracy both fired, splattering the men and then taking off out of the tunnel.
Shawn, coming from the bathroom with Missy, jerked towards the wall, shielding the little girl with his body to protect her.
Jax and Quinn returned fire without checking for a clear line and green paint splattered all over Shawn’s spine.
“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed while Missy giggled.
Discerning the door was still open, Charlie fired into the training chamber, laying down a spray pattern.
Adrian jerked as paint hit the side of his neck, putting him in the wrong place for Kyle’s swing. The fist landed on his chin instead of his palm.
Adrian staggered, arms flailing.
Also hit with paint and scrambling to get to cover, David ran into Adrian and knocked them both to the mat in a painful heap.
The other fighters in the training space ducked behind equipment and stacks of mats, laughing.
On the covered edge of the door, Kenn kicked it shut. Adrian had been punished enough for one night. But I got off clean, Kenn gloated silently. No paint, no punches, no bleeding.
David lifted his head to find Adrian. “We match now. My piss is blue.”
Kenn burst out laughing.
“Billy just came up the ladder!” a voice called excitedly. “We’ve got them trapped!”
The sound of paintballs pinging off the walls and door echoed, proving Quinn wrong.
Adrian and Kenn winced, exchanging looks.
“You think he wants both of us?” Kenn asked.
“Unlikely,” Adrian denied. “You and the others can probably leave.”
Man, it feels good to not be a target, Kenn gloated. He spun around and banged into the closed door with his nose. Blood rolled over his lips and chin as he dropped to the floor.
“Send Mitchel out and we’ll spare the rest of you!” Charlie ordered from right outside.
“Too late for that,” Kenn groaned, crawling away. He looked up at Adrian. “You had to teach them to shoot first and talk second.”
The Eagles in the room smirked and chuckled hard, but they also stayed under cover.
“We’re serious,” Tracy called. “Send him out or we’re coming in!”
Adrian sighed resignedly, going to the door. He opened it while bracing for a blow.
Charlie and Tracy stated to open fire when yellow paint began to pelt Adrian, driving him back into the training chamber. More paint splattered the room, spraying Kenn’s boots and David’s knees.
Charlie lowered his weapon, turning in disappointment. “Who stole my thunder?”
“That would be me.” Marc dropped from the ledge behind them. He’d donned the gear Angie had been gathering for the sentries during their time in the mountain. The new stonewashed fatigues hadn’t been given out yet, but Marc was sure they were about to be very popular. “You were stealing my target.”
Eagles laughed in gasps and wheezes, some of them crying.
Charlie and Tracy joined the others with smiles, weapons now pointed at the ground.
Marc lifted his gun and emptied it into their legs, arms, shoulders, and chests.
Tracy cowered under the onslaught, arm coming up as Charlie attempted to fire, but Marc hurried forward to place his boot lightly on the boy’s wrist. “You’re out. It’s over.”
Marc scanned the training room. Kenn and David had hit the deck again when he’d began shooting. Adrian still hadn’t risen. All of the other guys were splattered, disheveled and twitchy, waiting for the next shot to come or the next blow to land.
“Good class,” Marc grunted. “Keep it up.”
Adrian groaned. After the kick he’d taken, that wouldn’t happen for a while.
“All the better,” Marc stated. “Beers in the mess in one hour. The attackers are serving.”
3
“Got a minute?”
Adrian was sitting on a chair near the mats that were covered in pink, blue, a
nd yellow paint smeared into odd shapes. “What’s up?”
Kyle waited until the last two Eagles left before asking, “What happens to an enforcer when they can’t enforce anymore?”
Adrian gestured toward the other chair, now taking a pain pill from his pocket.
Kyle grinned as he realized Adrian had expected to be hurting when this night was finished.
“Not like this,” Adrian admitted. “I think Marc’s balls were rigged.”
Kyle chuckled again, but inside, he waited tensely for the answer.
“Some of them do fine with retirement. Most don’t make it that far. They usually die doing their jobs,” Adrian told him honestly. He took a pack of baby wipes from the desk by the chairs and then put them back. Wipes weren’t going to handle this mess.
“Autumn is asking questions about her father and about why her mom gets sad.”
Adrian winced. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t usually happen so fast, but our children are surrounded by others who are learning new things every day. It spreads.”
“Are you saying their gifts can transfer?”
“No, but they can help kick in the gifts of others around them, depending on what theirs are. Puberty is the normal age line for most physical gifts, though. The mental conversations are actually very handy when they’re that little.”
Kyle concurred with that part. “Is there any way to slow it?”
“Keep them away from others who have gifts,” Adrian answered. “But that’s impossible down here and not good for her anyway. You know that.”
“I do,” Kyle admitted. “I’d already considered it and ruled it out.”
“Good. If you isolate her, she might believe she’s bad and then become that way because of the perception.”
Kyle moved toward the exit. “Thank you for your time.”
Adrian grunted, body throbbing in several places. He was happy to help the mobster, happy to help the camp period.
Adrian forced himself to his feet, wincing and groaning at the pain. His groin flared with agony as he John Wayne walked to the exit. He couldn’t wait to climb down the ladder.
“Maybe I’ll fall off,” he groaned, stepping gingerly. “It’s gotta be better than this.”
