The Legion

by Melissa Delport

  “Do you fill it with anything else, any shrapnel?” My curiosity gets the better of me.

  “Not necessary, we’re aiming for demolition, not injury.”

  “There are a lot of people in that building, innocent people,” I emphasise.

  “It won’t destroy the entire building,” Gabe explains. “In fact there will be very little damage to the untargeted levels. The bombs are quite contained. They should completely destroy the lab and anything in it, but the rest of the building should escape unscathed. Unless you are wanting to bring down the entire Plaza?”

  “That might not be the worst idea,” Tim voices what half of the table is probably thinking. “I mean, it is the NUSA headquarters.”

  “No.” I don’t leave any room for argument. “We are not going to murder innocent people, no matter what we stand to gain.”

  “How do you detonate the bombs?” Morgan calls from her seat down the table.

  “Detonating cord,” Marcus replies. “It’ll give us time to get out, but it’s going to burn pretty quickly.” He turns his attention to me. “You’re going to have a few minutes, at the most.”

  I nod. “We’ll make it.”

  The time-frame limits us slightly in that only those of us who are Gifted with speed will be able to enter the Plaza. Reed and me, obviously, and Jethro and Brett, who are speed-Gifted. David, Morgan and Tim are all Gifted with strength and will be needed in case we encounter any resistance along the way, but they will not be able to accompany us on the final leg. They wouldn’t make it out in time. I don’t know how comfortable I feel about having a very volatile bomb strapped to my back, but I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

  “Well, I think that about covers it,” I bring the meeting to a close. “We’ll leave at four o’clock tomorrow morning. It’s a long way to Dodge City.”

  Dodge City, Kansas, is home to one of our largest Rebel camps and marks the halfway point on our way to Ohio. We will stay at the camp for a day or two, just long enough to replenish our fuel and food supplies, before continuing on to Toledo. We will cover over a thousand miles tomorrow, probably driving through into the night. With any luck, we should reach camp around 9 pm.

  The meeting ends and the General calls me aside as everyone files from the room.

  “I just want to wish you good luck, Miss Davis,” he says brusquely.

  “Thank you, General.”

  “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

  “A week to ten days, give or take.”

  “Two full days’ travel either way, a day each way for the Chicago journey, so that gives you a few days to plan and execute. What makes you think you can stay undetected in those tunnels?”

  “David assures me that nobody is even aware they exist. I trust David,” I say pointedly.

  “All right, well, you’d better be off. I’m sure you have some packing to do. In the meantime we’ll continue with the programme. With any luck, you may have a dozen more soldiers by the time you return.”

  I wish him a stilted “good luck” before I hastily leave the room.

  Knowing that I will have to say goodbye to Alex tomorrow morning puts me in a stinking temper. I am in no mood for nonsense, so when Michael appears beside the old Discovery 4 Land Rover that I am packing, I don’t even give him the opportunity to speak.

  “Not happening,” I warn as I lift two fuel containers into the trunk.

  “But . . .”

  “No buts, Michael. You’re staying here. Kwan will need help with all the new soldiers that the General is so intent on creating.”

  “Okay, but . . .”

  “Goodbye, Michael.” My guilt at leaving Alex makes me curt and I instantly regret it. I am about to apologise but he has already walked away.

  “Careful, Tiny, you keep being so nice to people and they might start thinking you’ve gone soft.” Reed is packing the second vehicle, one of our old Jeeps.

  “Shut up,” I snap, but Reed is impervious to my moodiness and he just rolls his eyes.

  Reed, Morgan, Gabe and two of our soldiers, Brett and Tim, will be travelling in the Jeep, while David, Veronica, Marcus, Jethro and I are taking the Land Rover. Marcus and Gabe would have preferred to ride together, but we felt it a necessary precaution to split up the two bomb experts in case anything happened to one or other vehicle. I run my eye over the rest of the group. Jethro, olive-skinned and dark-haired, is a valuable asset. He is steadfast and serious, methodical and calculated, and although he does not show much emotion, I trust him implicitly.

  Brett and Tim, also firm friends, and the jokers of the pack, are laughing and joking among themselves as they load the food supplies, simultaneously flirting with Veronica who is blushing to the roots of her hair. The two men are deceptive in appearance. Brett, short and stocky, is incredibly fast, while Tim, lankier and slimmer in build, is strong as an ox. David specifically asked that he travel with my group. I think he is intimidated by Reed. I also have an annoying suspicion that Morgan may have asked Reed if she could rather travel with him. Wondering for a minute when we are going to get past this animosity, I lean against the Discovery, watching Reed loading up the Jeep. His arms are tanned and muscular and his hair falls over his eyes every time he bends to retrieve the next item of luggage.

  “Enjoying the view?” he jokes suddenly, and I redden unbecomingly.

  “Be ready at four,” I say tersely, and the sound of his laughter echoes behind me as I walk away.

  I wake at 3 am and almost immediately there is a gentle knock on the door. I let Jenna in, both of us speaking in hushed whispers so as not to wake Alex.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d be here in time,” I smile, as she shuffles inside. She is still wearing her pyjamas and a pair of pink fluffy slippers. I don’t even ask how she managed to procure those. Her hair is standing on end, and she yawns widely as she makes her way immediately to the kitchen and turns on the gas.

  “Coffee?” she mumbles.

  “Please.” I leave her to it and go back to my room and get dressed quickly.

  I am back in five minutes and gratefully accept the steaming cup.

  “So, are you all ready?” Jenna asks, eyeing me over her own mug.

  “As ready as we’ll ever be, I guess, Jen.” I swallow the lump in my throat and set my mug back on the counter. “I can’t thank you enough. For taking care of Alex, for being there when I . . .”

  “Becca,” she stops me in mid-sentence. “I know I give you a whole lot of shit, and I don’t really ever bring up what it is you do. You’re my best friend; I want to be your normal person, the one who sees you as something other than our ‘divine’ leader; to put a little fun in your life. Having said that,” she puts her own mug down and looks me straight in the eye, “what you do . . . what you sacrifice, to keep us safe? I can’t tell you how amazing that is, what it means to us.”

  “Jen,” I laugh, feeling awkward, but she holds up a hand to silence me.

  “Do you know why I left the States? Why I came here in the first place?”

  “Aidan?” I tease.

  “I came because it was your family that was asking. And I knew that meant you had something to do with what was coming. And I just knew that you would do it, that you would bring about the change that we needed.” I have never heard Jenna sound so serious, so earnest. “You’re going to win this, Becca. I know you are. And if watching Alex helps you to be able to do what it is you need to do, well, it’s the very least I can contribute. Besides,” she dazzles me with her elfin smile, “I adore Alex, so it’s not as if I’m really doing anything I don’t want to do.” I am silent for a long moment, not trusting myself to speak. My crazy, zany friend’s words have both warmed and humbled me.

  “Thank you,” I answer eventually, crossing the room and giving her a hug. “And Jen,” I take a deep breath, “if anything happ
ens to me; if for some reason I don’t make it back . . .”

  “You will,” she cuts across me firmly and I don’t press it. I know she will take care of my son, I don’t need to hear it. Gathering myself for a moment, I turn and walk down the passage to Alex’s room. Saying goodbye to Alex is always hard. He clings to me, his little face filled with fear, although he never gives way to his tears. He is determined to be brave and it almost breaks my heart. Eventually, I detach him gently and kiss his forehead, unable to resist squeezing him one last time before I go.

  Chapter 7

  It is still dark when we set off on Thursday morning, just after 4 am. Jethro is driving while I navigate, and the Jeep follows just behind us, both vehicles churning up huge clouds of dust as we make our way through Nevada. This leg of our journey is uneventful, and Veronica sings softly under her breath, accompanied every now and then by David’s snoring. Marcus, sitting behind me, complains bitterly about the noise for about an hour and then he too falls asleep. I envy Reed’s travelling partners; Brett and Tim are never anything but jovial, and the two are so amusing I can only imagine that the atmosphere in the Jeep is probably a whole lot lighter than our own. Although they do have Morgan, who is not exactly sweetness and light, I remind myself.

  “Take this glide-off,” I point to the upcoming intersection, and Jethro moves over onto the left hand side of the road, his huge hands making the steering wheel look tiny. Navigating the old roads is tricky, there are enormous potholes and debris everywhere; the lack of maintenance in the Rebeldom is in stark contrast to the perfection of the States. Despite this, by the time the sun has risen we have made good time and have crossed the state line into Utah. Miles and miles of dry plateau and old electrical pylons go by in a monotonous blur, and then finally the mountains come into view. Just after noon we reach Durango, Colorado. We are about halfway to Dodge City, Kansas and we pull into town, needing to stretch our legs and refuel before our journey through the mountains and down into south-east Colorado.

  “Keep an eye out for any Deranged,” I call to the others, as I make my way over to the Jeep from which Reed’s long denim-clad legs are already emerging. The Deranged are the true casualties of the world war. Abandoned in the barren lands, living in isolation in the worst conditions imaginable, they are little more than animals. Uneducated, starving and desperate, they are cannibalistic and dangerous. I had experienced this first-hand when I encountered one of the Deranged in Hopkinsville, Kentucky, when I was fleeing the States, shortly after Eric had learned of my duplicity. The crazed man had taken a massive bite out of my calf during a fight with the Dane soldiers who were pursuing us. My revulsion had far outweighed the pain of that injury. The Rados are slightly less of a threat. Affected by the radiation, many do not live long and those who do, are weak and often physically deformed. I pity these wretched creatures and their miserable existence, victims of Eric and his NUSA isolation policy.

  “My ass is numb,” Reed complains, wincing as he limps a few steps away from the Jeep. I leave him to refuel the vehicles and, seeing Veronica preparing food, I decide to go for a walk. We have been on the road for nine hours and my body feels stiff and cramped from sitting for so long. I make my way along a quiet street, quaint buildings on either side. This sleepy little town looks as though it has been frozen in time, although many of the shop windows are smashed, and their interiors show clear signs of the looting that was rife after the war. Curious, I walk through the front garden and step through the splintered door of a church. It is eerily quiet; there is no sound but the soft crunch of glass and sand under my feet. I stop halfway down the aisle and gaze up at the statue of Christ on the cross. There is something beautiful about the marble contours of his body and the infinite sadness on his face. I wonder what He would think about what man has become, what the world has become. Feeling the wetness on my face, I lift my hand and wipe away the tears that have spilled down my cheeks.

  I take another two steps towards the statue, wanting to be nearer, seeking comfort, and then I freeze, my leg in mid-air, not even daring to put my foot down. On the pew, right beside me, two Deranged are sleeping. I hold my breath, about to retrace my steps, and then my curiosity gets the better of me. Carefully, I lean over them, taking in the filthy rags they have draped over themselves and the matted, crusted hair that covers their heads. The stench, which I did not notice before, now fills my senses and the rotting, putrid smell makes me gag. Choking back the bile rising in my throat, I realise that one of these pitiful human beings is a woman, judging by the lack of facial hair and the fullness of her bosom.

  Wanting to warn the others, I turn to leave but I stop abruptly when I see that a child, no more than seven years old, is standing in the aisle between me and the door and regarding me curiously. There is an ugly scar running down the left side of her face, and her hair has been hacked in short chunks. She is naked, and her body is caked with grime and dried mud. Her feet are so black I cannot see her toenails and she smells like blood and excrement. Putting my hand over my mouth, trying to block out the smell, I stand completely still, not wanting to frighten her.

  A shadow passes over us and I glance up to see Reed at the door, his mouth open as though he is about to say something. He freezes when he sees the girl, and I surreptitiously shake my head at him, telling him to stay where he is. I am about to signal to the child that I mean her no harm when her mouth opens and she lets out a bloodcurdling scream that reverberates around the church, rattling what little glass remains in the windows. In the moment it takes for her parents to leap to their feet, snarling and roaring, Reed has crossed the distance between us, grabbed my hand and pulled me from the dark building and out into the sunshine.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” he asks.

  We are heading back in the direction of the cars, but I cannot help but look over my shoulder. This is only the second time I have come into direct contact with the Deranged, only this time I am not half as repulsed. I feel nothing but pity and disgust. This is Eric’s fault; NUSA’s fault. They abandoned these people out here in the barren lands, while within the States life was easy and luxurious.

  “She’s only a child,” I murmur.

  “They’re still human, Rebecca; they breed. There is no sterilisation programme out here,” he seems to realise what he has said and he turns to me. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I smile awkwardly. I had been sterilised early on in my marriage to Eric. His screening had come back with genetic anomalies and we had both been sterilised to prevent passing on any genetic abnormalities. It was NUSA policy; a law that we upheld – Eric, because he believed in it, and me because I needed him to believe that I agreed with him. Eric had never known of Alex’s existence. My body’s healing ability ensured that he never suspected I had given birth to a child. That was a secret I kept hidden in my heart for years; it gave me the strength to do what needed to be done, to stay close to Eric and, ultimately, to bring him down.

  “We need to get out of here,” Reed says and I snap back to the present.

  “Before they come after us,” I agree. The three pitiful wretches in the church pose no real threat, but I do not want any unnecessary reason for them to get hurt.

  “It’s not them I’m worried about,” he says, shielding his eyes and pointing in a westerly direction. I turn and follow the line of his arm. Standing on a low ridge of the nearby mountains are three people. They are facing us, and are very obviously watching us, but they are too far away to make out their faces.

  “Morgan,” Reed begins, and I notice that Morgan is leaning against the hood of the Jeep, “get them all back, we’re leaving.” Morgan nods and disappears into the town.

  “Who the hell . . .” I trail off as the man on the far left gets my attention. The way he stands, his physique, reminds me poignantly of Aidan.

  “I don’t know,” Reed answers, already packing up, “but they’re too far away to get
to, and it would take us miles out of our way. We need to get moving, we’ll know soon enough if they follow us.”

  Less than five minutes later we leave Durango in a cloud of dust. I glance up at the ridge where our observers were standing but there is nobody there. It’s my turn to drive. Jethro needs to rest and David is navigating. Forcing myself to concentrate, we start our steep ascent into the mountains, the Jeep right behind us.

  By the time we reach the camp in Dodge City it is after 10 pm and I am exhausted. Nobody followed us and the remainder of our journey was uneventful. Veronica and I immediately set about making the camp habitable, getting linen on the beds, setting up cots and getting the gas lanterns burning. The Dodge Camp has a working water well and the ablutions are not as primitive as some of the smaller camps, but I am too tired to prepare a bath. I climb under the covers of my bed, feeling only slightly guilty that I get a double foam mattress while everyone else is sleeping on single cots. Hearing the soft murmurs of a few of the others outside, I am asleep within minutes.

  “Move over, Tiny,” Reed hisses, and I blink, bleary-eyed. It is pitch black outside and the camp is eerily silent.

  “What are you doing?” I mumble, rolling automatically onto my side. Without any explanation, he climbs onto the mattress and lies down on his back.

  “Reed!”

  “Oh, get over yourself,” he yawns. “Have you tried to sleep on one of those cots? I’m not here to test your virtue, I just wanna get some sleep.” He rolls onto his side, his back to me, and I smile in the dark, rolling the other way and closing my eyes.

  When I wake in the morning, the sun is barely rising and Reed is snoring softly beside me, his arm thrown casually across my stomach. I turn to face him, taking in the contours of his face; dark lashes sweeping his cheeks, his dark blond hair falling over one eye. His shoulders are broad and tanned and he has a small scar on his neck, just above his collarbone. It must be from an old injury, before he got his abilities.