The Legion

by Melissa Delport

  “Are you sure they didn’t give you super self-control, along with all those other abilities?” she asks, unable to tear her eyes from the glorious rear view.

  “Ha ha, very funny.”

  Jenna turns back to face me, a mischievous grin on her elfin face. She looks ridiculously young; her white-blonde, short-cropped hair and her big blue eyes alive with excitement give the illusion of a naughty child. She really is tiny; around five-two, slim-built and bursting with enthusiasm.

  “So, I hear you’re going to the party tomorrow?”

  “Seriously? You heard that? Already?” I glance over in disbelief at Michael who is still playing football.

  “Aw, come on, Becca, it’ll be fun! And I have the perfect outfit for you!”

  Jenna amazes me. Whenever new clothes arrive, smuggled out of the States, she throws practicality to the wind and always grabs the most glitzy, girlie items from the pile. She hardly has any rivals for these, most of us dive straight for the jeans and cargo pants, vests, T-shirts and jackets. As far as shoes go, we prefer sneakers or combat boots, but I have seen three pairs of heels in Jenna’s room. Heels!

  “Should I be afraid?” I ask cautiously.

  “Very!” she laughs.

  Twenty minutes later I look down at myself and shudder.

  “You have got to be kidding me!”

  “What? You look stunning!”

  “I look ridiculous.” This must be the tiniest little black dress ever made. Strapless, and stopping at least three inches above my knees, it is skin tight. It’s not as though I don’t have the figure for it, but exposing such an enormous amount of bare flesh is hardly my scene. I fight the urge to cover myself with my hands.

  “I can’t wear this,” I insist, trying to undo the zipper at the back.

  “You can and you will!” Jenna orders, sounding a little like the General.

  “I have to go, Jen, I’ve got homework to do, remember?” There’s an awkward pause, and I turn around to see her standing with her hands on her hips. I know that look. My friend is digging in her three-inch heels. Heaving a sigh, I concede defeat.

  “If I promise to wear the dress, can I go now?” It’s not as if I am going to see anyone other than a group of raucous teenagers, after all.

  Jenna grins, clapping her hands in delight.

  “See you tomorrow!”

  I fetch Alex from the playground and we go home. We have a small, cosy house near The Strip, just a few doors down from Jenna. Space is not a huge problem for our people. There are only about two thousand of us living in a city that accommodated over five hundred thousand before World War Three, not to mention the rest of the Valley. We have, however, condemned a lot of the buildings that are in need of maintenance.

  I make Alex some lunch and he finishes his set work, his pencil smudging the page with his efforts. I am happy to sit and watch him. I have missed out on so much of his life and I will never be able to make that time up, but I am determined to spend as much time as possible with him now. He still has nightmares. He has been having them since Aidan died. Telling Alex about his father’s death was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. He screamed, lashing out at me physically, and just when I thought I could not take another minute of it, he collapsed in my arms, his little body racked with sobs. It had taken weeks for him to come out of his shell again, much thanks to Michael, who is Alex’s hero. Children are very resilient. They bounce back. I wish it was as easy for adults.

  I do the few dishes and then I call on Sally next door. Sally is fifteen, a shy, freckled girl, who watches Alex for me when I need her to. I kiss Alex goodbye and leave for the 24-hour fitness building on South Eastern Avenue that we use as a training centre. One of the larger training rooms is now Kwan Lee’s dojo.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I call as I come through the doors.

  “Not that we’re surprised,” I hear Morgan’s sarcastic comment and I frown in consternation. What’s with her lately? Choosing to ignore her, I return Kwan’s smile and nod at Reed who is lounging against the far wall.

  “So you’ll definitely be there tomorrow, right?” Michael hollers across the room.

  “I’ll be there, Michael,” I answer resignedly and he fist punches the air.

  We get started. Kwan has been my mentor and trainer for almost four years. The forty-year-old Korean is lethal, even without his Gift of speed. He has spent years mastering the art of Taekwondo and is the ultimate warrior. He has trained Morgan too and, more recently, Michael. Reed doesn’t really take instruction, but he does join us from time to time, I think partly because he is bored, and partly because he misses the action of battle.

  “Right, let’s get started. Morgan, Michael, you’re up,” Kwan calls, and the siblings walk to the middle of the room. The instant they start sparring, I turn to Kwan.

  “How are you doing?” I haven’t seen much of him lately, he has been so busy training our soldiers.

  “Good, thanks,” he answers, then walks over to stand closer to the Kellys so that he can instruct them without having to shout.

  While being Gifted can turn any ordinary man into a deadly weapon, the Gift is still subject to natural law. If two people are both Gifted with the ability of strength, for example, the naturally stronger of the two will still be stronger, but on an entirely new level. Martial arts, speed and endurance training are imperative to give our soldiers an edge. Michael Kelly, Gifted with speed, and his sister, Morgan, who has strength, are a dynamic duo and they work well as a team. Sparring against each other, however, they are pitiful because, as siblings, their natural protective instincts prevent them from really trying. Kwan, sensing this, calls their practice to a halt within a few minutes.

  “Reed,” he calls, and Reed looks up.

  “Get in here,” Kwan instructs. “Morgan, you can sit down.”

  Morgan stalks past Reed and sits down a few yards away from me on the wooden floor.

  “How have you been, Morgan?” I ask, keeping one eye on Reed and Michael, who have taken up their positions.

  “I’m fine,” she answers, and then, reluctantly, “how’s Alex after everything?”

  “He’s doing okay, thanks.” Aidan, it always comes back to Aidan. I turn my attention to the two men in the centre of the room.

  It is almost comical watching Michael trying to get the better of Reed who retaliates mildly, as though Michael is nothing but an irksome fly. To be fair, there is really no competition. Reed and I cannot be beaten in a one-on-one fight. No Gifted soldier can defeat us, not even one with years of training like Kwan. As the only two people with all three abilities, we are stronger and faster than any other super-soldier, regardless of training or natural law, although we are not sure why this is.

  I have to give Michael points for effort. Even knowing he cannot win doesn’t stop him from trying. By the time he has landed on his back three times he concedes defeat, and Reed saunters back to the wall. Not to be deterred, the wily youngster launches himself at Reed’s back, trying to use the element of surprise. In less than two seconds, Michael is once again prostrate, Reed laughing above him, pinning him down until he yells “Uncle!” Even the more reserved Kwan is smiling and so is Morgan.

  The light moment doesn’t last long. Kwan calls Morgan back and faces her himself. I am a little surprised that he hasn’t called on me, as Kwan usually uses these opportunities to observe Morgan’s progress, but the thought is fleeting as I realise just how much Morgan has improved. She attacks and doesn’t stop attacking. She reminds me of Nina Lee, Kwan’s wife, who I fought and killed in Chicago. Nina had been a worthy adversary – she had possessed all of my own abilities and she was exceptionally well trained. Morgan, although lacking Nina’s exceptional skills, has the same style and the same steadfast determination. After a long and heated struggle, Kwan eventually overcomes Morgan to win the spar, but I notice he seems to be
favouring his left side as he makes his way back to us. Morgan’s incredible strength probably hurts like hell.

  “I think that’s enough for today,” Kwan calls, and I blink in surprise. Before I can answer, Reed’s steady drawl comes across the room.

  “Rebecca hasn’t practised.”

  There is an awkward pause and then Reed stirs himself and dusts his hands off on his jeans.

  “Guess it’s you and me, Sexy Bex,” he winks, “although we both know how this ends.”

  I grin, my adrenalin kicking in in anticipation of the fight and I feel the blood rushing through my veins.

  “Game on, Cowboy.”

  I catch a punishing blow to the stomach and I feel the wind knocked out of me. I feint to the left and, as Reed’s right arm comes thundering towards my face with the force of a small freight train, I grab his wrist and use his body weight against him, turning my own body and throwing out my right leg, tripping him as he rushes forward. His body slides a few yards across the clean floor and I hop from leg to leg, clicking my neck first left, then right.

  “While you’re down there,” I tease, and then offer him my hand to pull him to his feet. Too late, I see the wicked gleam in his green eyes, and he yanks me forward, over his head. I curl myself into a ball at the last minute and roll over him, landing painfully on my back, our heads so close they are almost touching. I hear Michael laughing from the sidelines and I grin, before flicking my legs up and under me and jumping to my feet.

  “Had enough yet, Tiny?” Reed gets up far less gracefully.

  “Not a chance!”

  I jump up and spin, my leg flying towards his neck in a roundhouse kick, but he ducks, and my foot whizzes over his head. Not giving him any time to recover, I kick up with the same leg, and he only just bends backwards in time, so that I miss his chin by an inch.

  “Hey, watch the face!” he says, grabbing my right leg as it comes back around and holding it firmly. I cannot shake him loose and I am forced to hop forward as he takes two large steps back. I can’t move, and he knows it. He takes another step backward and I have no choice but to hop forward or lose my balance. I flush and his green eyes sparkle with amusement.

  “Say Uncle.”

  “What?” I hear Michael hoot with laughter.

  “Say it,” he cocks his head to the side and takes another step back.

  “I can do this all day.”

  I cannot possibly say it, he’ll never let me live it down.

  “Reed, I . . .”

  “No, no, no, Tiny,” he shakes his head, “no sweet talking your way out of this one. Now say Uncle.”

  I heave a sigh, and then, before I can over think it, I push off the ground with my left leg as hard as I can, and kick out with the leg that he is holding. My left leg finds purchase on his chest and I launch off him as hard as I can, knowing that if this doesn’t work things are going to end very badly. And by badly, I mean painfully. Luckily, Reed is so shocked that he releases his hold on my leg, and my body arcs back and over, doing a full somersault before I land back on both my feet. I lunge forward, bending my arm at the elbow and shoving it against his neck. An instant later he is flat on his back, my arm restricting his windpipe. He rolls his eyes as Kwan and Michael’s laughter echoes around the room.

  “Now, what do you say?” I prompt.

  Chapter 3

  The next morning I drop Alex at school.

  “Rebecca, hi!” Elizabeth greets me at the door of the classroom, her long red hair pulled back in a neat braid. Elizabeth and Veronica were both with me at the Ohio camp; they were not fighters, but they helped with cooking and keeping the place clean. My father set Elizabeth up teaching in the Nevada school after we had smuggled her out of the States. She had been Gifted against her will with the ability of speed, although she has no interest in using it and will not train, not even to be able to defend herself. She is a peaceful soul and a fantastic teacher. She also has a massive crush on Reed, although she is blissfully unaware how obvious it is.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Elizabeth begins shyly, “about Alex.”

  “What about Alex?”

  “He’s been using his abilities at school.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t think it’s intentional,” she is quick to reassure me, “but he’s been using his speed at races, that kind of thing. It’s hard for him to control himself; children are very competitive and we always tell them to try their best. Unfortunately, Alex’s best is not exactly something the other kids can compete with and some of the other boys have been reacting.”

  “Reacting how?” I ask, although I already suspect what is going on.

  “They’ve been teasing him; calling him names, calling him a freak, that sort of thing. I am trying to stop it, but it’s very difficult to keep an eye on them all the time. Anyway,” she smooths down her skirt, “my concern is more that Alex might start to retaliate. With his strength he could really hurt somebody. I thought maybe you could talk to him, before it gets that far?”

  I know exactly what is worrying her. Alex, the only child born to a mother who has been Gifted with all three abilities, has inherited my speed and strength. He is a prodigy, a natural phenomenon. My father was researching how this could happen, but he had not yet come up with any answers, other than the fact that Alex’s abilities are genetic. He simply inherited them from me, as he inherited his brown eyes from Aidan. Whether this is a result of the fact that I have been Gifted with all three abilities, or whether it is simply evolution, we have yet to establish. We have kept an eye on some of the other children in the Rebeldom whose parents have been Gifted, but none of them show any signs of having inherited their parents’ talents. I still think it has something to do with the Power of Three, which is my own interpretation of why Reed and I have such exceptional Gifts.

  “I’ll talk to him,” I assure Beth, who smiles timidly and walks back into the noisy classroom.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

  “What are best friends for, Becca? I couldn’t let you miss all this eye-candy!”

  “They’re seventeen!” I splutter and Jenna laughs gaily.

  “Not all of them. I’ve seen some of Mikey’s football friends – yum!”

  She looks gorgeous in a dark blue dress that falls to her feet, which would be quite demure for Jenna, if the slit up the side didn’t start at her hip, exposing her entire right thigh. At least she has killer legs. In her unbelievably high heels, she is even taller than I am.

  “I can’t believe you’re not wearing heels,” she eyes my feet disdainfully and I laugh. I’m wearing a pair of flat black sandals.

  “I can’t, Jen, I’d fall flat on my face!” Of course this is not entirely true. I spent three years as the First Lady – walking in heels was part of the job. I don’t want to say it out loud, but fancy clothes and high heels are a reminder of the life that I left behind – a life I don’t want ever to live again. I think Jen understands, because she regards me steadily for a long moment, before a small, knowing smile lifts the corners of her mouth.

  “That, I could deal with,” she mumbles, deliberately mussing up her hair.

  We enter the hall which used to be a supper theatre in one of the old casinos. The room is full of teenagers, many of whom have tried to dress up, and I smile fondly, thinking for the first time that this might actually be a great idea. The kids living out here in the barren lands have no semblance of an ordinary life. It is hard work all the time and to see them enjoying themselves, having a party and being typical teenagers, removes any reservations I had about coming. A few of Michael’s school friends who play musical instruments have set up a bandstand in the corner, and there are a few mismatched candles burning around the room, but other than that there is very little in the way of decor. The Rebeldom is not exactly teeming with non-essentials, and party
decorations fall very low on our priority list. There are huge bowls of punch on every available surface, and I briefly wonder how much work Michael has promised to do in exchange for so much of our drinks supply.

  “Rebecca, hey!” Michael materialises in front of me, looking quite dashing in a pair of long black pants and a black T-shirt. “You came!”

  “I said I would!” I laugh. “Awesome party, Michael.”

  “Thanks! Can I get you something to drink?” Is it my imagination, or does it look like he’s half hoping I’ll say no?

  “Sure.”

  The music, when it gets going, is quite festive, and Jenna sashays off to dance. I smile after her as I lean against a wall in a darkened corner. I am wondering if my afternoon chat with Alex will have any effect. Aidan would have known exactly what to say, he knew Alex better than anyone.

  “You know they’ve spiked the punch, right?” The husky drawl right in my ear makes me jump.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, suddenly feeling ridiculous in my tiny scrap of black cloth.

  “I was invited,” Reed points out obviously, as I surreptitiously give my dress a tug upwards, which accomplishes nothing except to raise it even higher up my legs.

  “You’re in my seat,” he teases, sensing my discomfort and making fun of the fact that I am standing in his usual position.

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise this stretch of wall was reserved.” I roll my eyes.

  “That’s a very nice dress.” His gaze wanders up and down my body appreciatively.

  Michael returns with a huge glass of punch and hands it to me nervously. He waits for me to take a sip, watching my reaction like a hawk. Talk about packing a punch, it’s so strong that my eyes water, and Reed chuckles beside me. Michael is holding his breath, not sure whether he is in trouble or not. I smack my lips appreciatively.

  “Divine!” I announce and Michael’s whole body relaxes in relief.

  “Thanks.” He rushes off, disappearing into the throng of young bodies on the dance floor.