The Legion

by Melissa Delport

  “Do you think it still works?” I ask, watching him play with the gun.

  “I have no idea. I can’t believe he even had one.”

  “NUSA laws don’t apply here,” I point out. “Gun abolition wouldn’t have been enforced in the Rebeldom.”

  “Great. So not only do we have to watch out for the crazies, but we need to be especially vigilant for the gun-wielding variety.”

  “I’m pretty sure most people ran out of ammo during the rioting.”

  I go to join him where he is perched on the tailgate of the truck.

  “Where are you sleeping?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

  “Right here,” he pats the flat deck behind him.

  “Here it is, then.” I ease myself back into the covered space and pull out a few blankets from the pile of linen in the far corner. I spread one blanket on the cold deck and roll up another to use as a makeshift pillow.

  “You coming?” I ask.

  “In a minute,” he replies, easing himself up and walking away from the truck. I sigh to myself, wondering how on earth I am going to get myself out of the mess I seem to have landed in.

  I wake in the morning feeling stiff. To my relief, Reed is snoring softly beside me. Maybe I am just reading too much into things. Determined to carry on as usual, I nudge him awake, earning myself a lazy grin. Still half-asleep, he reaches for me and pulls me back against his warm body, nuzzling my hair. Definitely imagining it, I think happily and allow myself to relax for a few more minutes. Eventually I hear movement outside and I get up ready to prepare for the day ahead.

  “Rebecca!” I hear Jethro’s low hiss as I emerge from our makeshift quarters and my head snaps around. He is crouching a short distance away on the crest of a small hill. I jog over to him and he points down the other side. A small group of Deranged are sitting about 30 yards away, huddled around a pitiful fire. There are four in total, three men and one small child, although whether boy or girl, I can’t say for sure.

  “You watch them,” I whisper. “I’m going to get Adam.” I make my way quickly back down the hill and over to the Discovery where Adam and Archer are having a conversation.

  “You’ll be happy to know we’ve found some people who might need our help,” I interrupt, explaining quickly.

  “You all stay here,” Adam murmurs, calling only Hope forward.

  “Let me come instead,” I offer, hating the thought of the young girl going down there. The men below us appear to be unarmed, but looks can be deceptive.

  “No,” Adam is firm. “You look like a soldier, Rebecca. They need to know that we pose no threat.”

  I wonder for a second what he means by that, and then I remember how Jim singled Reed and me out in Bakersfield. Reed looks dangerous, I have always known that, but I never suspected that I did.

  “Stop looking so pleased with yourself,” Reed chuckles beside me. “You know you’re a bad ass.”

  I don’t reply, but I can’t help the grin that stretches across my face.

  “Do you think he can help them?” Sofia asks, as Adam heads up the grassy knoll, her big brown eyes gazing adoringly up at Aidan.

  “If anyone can help them, Adam can,” he replies confidently. The protective way that he stands beside her, smiling tenderly and encouragingly down at her is agony, but I am conscious that Reed is watching and I keep my misery to myself.

  Adam and Hope descend the hill slowly and about halfway down the small group catches sight of them. The men leap to their feet, snarling, and the one closest to us pushes the child behind him. Thankfully I do not see any weapons, but as Adam and Hope get closer still, the largest of the three men leans forward and pulls a log of wood from the fire, waving the blazing end in front of him. His message is crystal clear: don’t come any closer.

  I fight the urge to go after them. If these men catch sight of the rest of us and feel any more threatened than they already do, they may react with force. Adam’s progress is infinitely slow, both his hands in front of him, palms outward. Hope mirrors his actions, placing one small foot in front of the other.

  When they are only a few yards from the group, Adam comes to a halt and starts to speak in slow, steady tones. I cannot make out his words, but his body language and the hushed manner in which he is speaking is clearly peaceful. Within a matter of minutes, the three men appear to be calmer and the child is peeking around its father’s leg inquisitively. When the blazing stick is lowered slowly to the ground, Adam steps forward, his hand extended.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Reed whispers beside me. “How the hell does he do it?”

  “It’s his charisma.” It is Henry who answers, so softly that I can barely hear him. “He’s almost hypnotic, you would believe anything he says, just because he says it. It’s a powerful tool and incredibly dangerous if used for the wrong reasons. Just look at Hitler. He single-handedly started one world war, and participated in another long before the 2016 holocaust, and he did it with pure magnetism. No nuclear bombs necessary. That’s true power.”

  “It’s a good thing Adam’s on our side,” Jethro remarks.

  I look back to see Adam gesturing up the hill towards where we are hiding.

  “Archer, Loader! Come down here, will you. And bring Henry and Sofia with you.”

  I frown at his choice, but the others are already making their way down the hill, leaving only the three of us Legion soldiers and Aidan behind.

  “We don’t look like them,” Aidan answers my unspoken question, gesturing at the others. “They all grew up in the wastelands. You can see it in the way they carry themselves. They have all been where those men are and it shows. Us?” he smiles, indicating the four of us. “We’re too refined, too different. He’ll call us when he’s ready.” He holds my gaze slightly longer than is necessary, a strange look passing over his handsome features.

  Eventually, Adam calls for the rest of us and we walk down the hill. Fighting the urge to wrinkle my nose at the smell, I shake hands with each of the Deranged in turn. They are revolting; the filth and excrement is visible to the eye, even if the smell hadn’t alerted me first.

  Once all the introductions are made – one-sided of course, these men have no names – we go back up to where the vehicles are parked. Catching sight of the three cars two of the dishevelled men baulk and retreat, their eyes wide with fear. Only the man with the child shows no fear. His face is alight with wonder, his hand on the child’s shoulder. It’s hope, I realise with a start. His face is filled with hope; and I am reminded that a parent’s love knows no bounds, it’s not dictated by civilisation or society, it is a raw, inherent emotion, that is one hundred per cent human. This man is filled with hope because, for the first time, he can see a better future for his child and I can empathise only too well.

  Hope and Archer take the four Deranged aside and start to get them cleaned up, giving them fresh clothes and something to eat.

  “I think it’s best if I travel with them in the Humvee,” Adam suggests and I agree. That makes sense; Adam is the best suited travelling companion for these men in their fragile state. The child is a boy, recognisable now that he is not as filthy as before. His hair is longer than most girls, but rather than cut it, which would probably terrify him, Hope has washed it as best she can, pulling the matted mess into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He is probably about six or seven years old, and I smile at him as I walk to the truck and pull out one of the children’s story books we found in Los Angeles. I try to hand it to him but he will not take it and shies away, hiding behind his father’s legs. I pass the book to his dad, who nods briefly in thanks and then I walk away, not wanting to cause them any further discomfort. Out of the corner of my eye I see the book being handed to the youngster, who snatches it up happily.

  Everyone is getting ready to depart and I quickly analyse the change of places. If Adam, Hope and the four newcomers are goin
g to be travelling with Jethro, that leaves Sofia and Henry with me. Great. I quickly consider swapping them for Reed, but the thought is gone as quickly as it comes; that would be foolish. It would leave the three in the truck vulnerable without a Legion member to protect them. A small part of me is also loath to leave Aidan and Sofia together for any extended period of time.

  We pile into the three vehicles and set off for Fresno. All the cities and towns are starting to blur into one as we cover so much ground. I have never travelled this extensively in the Rebeldom and although it was exciting initially, I am starting to want nothing more than to be home with Alex. I am also desperate to see for myself what is going on back at headquarters, what progress is being made with the soldiers, and to see that the others made it back safely, my father included. I have a war to plan; NUSA still needs to be defeated, and here I am on this bizarre road trip with an old Englishman and a Mexican girl as my travelling companions. It sounds like the start of a bad joke. I focus on the road, scanning both sides of the street for signs of life. Before we even reach Fresno my search results in an unlikely finding.

  Henry is making polite conversation and I am answering him almost unconsciously, listening with only half an ear. I am driving so slowly that we have fallen behind the Humvee and even the truck has passed us. As I pass a side street I see something in my peripheral vision, but as I turn my head to have a proper look, we have already passed the small intersection. I screech to a halt and shift the Discovery into reverse.

  “What is it?” Sofia asks, sounding panicky.

  “I’m not sure,” I answer, opening my door and getting out of the SUV. To my surprise Henry follows me. The others, not yet aware that we have stopped, are just too far ahead for me to call them back, and I head down the street alone, my body on high alert. “It’s just a coyote,” I grumble, exasperated as I see the wiry body of the scavenger feeding on something small. I take a few steps closer wondering if I should fetch Archer, when I see what it is feeding on and my stomach heaves in revulsion.

  “Don’t!” I yell, as Henry rushes forward. He has also realised what we are looking at. He ignores me, shooing the animal away with flapping hands, and I follow him, trying to avert my gaze from the mangled mess that can only be the body of a child. I keep my eye on the coyote, which bares its yellowed teeth in a half-snarl, but it is only for show – as we continue to approach it puts its tail between its legs and trots off to a safe distance, eyeing us warily.

  “Henry, for God’s sake, leave it!” I hiss, as he reaches the child. I glance back at the car and see the Humvee backing up towards it. As the brake lights signal that it has stopped I turn back to Henry, intending to get him out of there, when an almighty yell rends the air.

  “Rebecca!” Henry’s voice chills my blood and I freeze, not sure what to expect. His next words are certainly nothing I could have predicted.

  “She’s alive!”

  Chapter 28

  It takes less than a second to reach him, and as I bend over the prostrate body of the child, my first thought is that she should be put out of her misery. My second is to wonder how Henry could possibly know that this is a little girl. Her body is covered in blood, and her legs have chunks of flesh missing. As I stare, appalled, at her grotesque injuries, she gives a whimper of pain and all thoughts fly from my head. I scoop her up out of the gutter that she is lying in and, shouting at Henry to follow me, I sprint back to the car. Jethro sees me coming and steps aside as I screech to a halt beside the Humvee.

  “Open the back!” I yell, and he drops the tailgate, grabs a blanket and spreads it out. I gingerly place the child on it, glancing back to see Henry stumbling towards us as fast as his age allows. “Search the area,” I order Jethro, “she must have been travelling with someone. See if you can find them.” My hands are smeared red with her blood, and I wipe them on the back of my pants. “Hurry, Henry!” I plead, as Reed appears beside me.

  “What’s going . . . Oh my God!” he sounds sickened and I turn again to check on Henry’s progress.

  “She’s alive,” I whisper, frantically pushing her hair out of her face and assessing her clothes, my hands shaking uncontrollably.

  “That’s not possible,” Reed interjects gently, and at the same moment the child whimpers again.

  Reed and Jethro both jump back in alarm and then return, adding their own frantic hands to my efforts.

  “Henry!” Reed yells, with far more urgency than me.

  “I’m here,” he gasps, taking Jethro’s place beside me. “We need clean water and towels,” he instructs and Jethro blurs, appearing a minute later with the items. Sofia silently hands me Henry’s medical bag which she has fetched from the Discovery, a large rucksack that he has carried with him since we left the cruise ship. “The wounds are still fresh; the attack was recent,” Henry murmurs, his gentle hands appraising her legs.

  “She might not have been attacked at all,” I point out. “Coyotes are scavengers. It might have waited for her to pass out from exhaustion or dehydration and then started feeding. She wouldn’t have had the strength to fight it off.”

  “Well, at least infection hasn’t set in, although it won’t be long. She’ll need an antibiotic, that is, if she even survives.” Henry bends over the small body and I notice now, through the grime, that she’s wearing a dress. So that at least explains how he knew she was a girl. He lifts her skirt and there is a collective intake of breath. The wounds continue all the way up to her thigh. Her right leg is in a far worse condition than her left.

  “I need to clean these wounds, cut away some of the flesh and then sew up what I can,” Henry explains and then, dropping his voice, “it would probably be safer just to remove the leg.”

  “No!” It is Sofia who objects and, as I turn around to look at her, I notice that all the members of the Ordinary, including Aidan, are right behind her, and the four Deranged just beyond them. “She needs her legs,” Sofia entreats, her big brown eyes pleading with Henry. He looks to me, his lips pursed, deep in thought.

  “Is there any way to save it?” I ask, hearing the desperate plea in my own voice.

  Seeming to come to a decision Henry nods briskly. “We can certainly try,” he concedes.

  Henry gets to work, Sofia beside him, acting as his nursing aide. Everyone else is keeping a safe distance, unnaturally quiet, but I cannot bring myself to leave. I stand at the little girl’s head, playing with her hair and praying as I have never prayed in my life. I know that this is probably a futile exercise. Her wounds are far too extensive for there to be any hope of survival, but we have to try. This is why we are here: to save people.

  Henry uses a scalpel to cut away as much of the mangled flesh as he can, stopping every now and again to pour alcohol onto the area and press clean towels against the wounds to staunch the bleeding. Eventually, when he can do no more, he starts to stitch. He is meticulous and incredibly neat considering what he has to work with. There are no clean lines, only flaps and folds of skin and flesh.

  “I can’t stitch these,” he says finally, indicating two of the larger gouges on her right leg, “they’re far too broad, we’ll just have to tape them and bandage her up and then hope for the best.” I can hear the desolation in his voice. Henry too realises that we cannot save her. He applies a thick layer of antiseptic cream and gauze and then bandages her leg tightly.

  “Rebecca,” Jethro’s low voice beside me rouses me.

  “What is it?” I ask, registering the bleak look on his face.

  “I found a woman. Not far from the alley. She’s dead; it looks like dehydration.”

  “Thanks, Jethro.”

  “She needs to travel with us,” I tell Henry and he nods. “I’ll need to stay with her, I want her monitored around the clock.”

  I order Jethro to pack as many of the truck’s supplies as possible into the Discovery, and the balance into the Humvee. We lay the litt
le girl down in the truck bed, Henry and Sofia climbing in beside her.

  “Tiny?” Reed’s voice breaks through my obsessive concern and I turn to face him.

  “Who’s driving the Land Rover?” he asks gently.

  “I . . . I . . .” I can’t bear to leave her but we cannot possibly leave the Discovery behind. Adam is unable to drive, his eyesight is too bad, and the four Deranged in the Humvee with Jethro are certainly not an option.

  Reed glances past me, his eyes falling on Aidan in the front seat. The truck cab is open-ended, you can move easily between front and back through a space between the front seats. I hesitate, realising the cause for his concern. My being in such close proximity to Aidan is not something that he is happy with, but before I can offer a solution, he glances down at the sleeping child.

  “I’ll follow you.” He lifts the tailgate before I can object and walks to the Discovery. I feel bad that he is travelling alone, and my heart swells with love at his selflessness. I gaze down at the little girl, her pale face glistening with sweat, and I wonder why she is so important. She is even younger than Alex, probably around four years old, petite and very underweight. I take hold of one of her icy hands, rubbing it gently between my own and willing her to fight.

  Our journey to Fresno is slow going. Aidan drives carefully, avoiding potholes and debris, not wanting to jolt our young patient. Sofia and Henry are exhausted after their ‘roadside surgery’ and they are soon lulled to sleep with the rocking of the truck.