Dad held his hands up in mock surrender. “Wendi, you remind me of Susan, which is the greatest compliment I can give you. I’m honored to have you fight by my side.”
Wendi gave him a quick grin. The door opened, and Jon and Abby stepped in. She wore solid black, but Jon’s suit was brown and green in the same design as Wendi’s, minus the laces and the skin.
Wendi laughed. “I guess they took the twins thing seriously.”
Jon seethed. “We had our combat suits.”
Jon’s hair was gelled into a ridiculous style involving a tidal wave of hair and a curlicue hanging over his forehead, but his bow was across his back, and he had his quiver and knife in place. “I want to fight, not walk the red carpet. How did you get a normal suit?” he asked Abby.
She bared her teeth at him. “I bite.”
Jon rolled his eyes and looked at Dad. “Okay, you have a game plan for this?”
Dad shook his head. “Until we are in the arena, we won’t know, though we should probably pair up and watch each other’s backs.”
“Um, there are five of us,” Abby said. “How does that work?”
“Abby and Jon, you take the right side; Wendi and Tommy you take the left,” he said indicating the sides. “I’m going after my wife.”
“Abby and Tommy are the brute force. You need to protect your partner. Jon and Wendi, you take out targets and keep out of reach.” Wendi scowled at him. “Your speed allows you to dart in, do damage and get away. Use it to your advantage.”
I asked, “But why don’t we group together?”
“Too easy of a target.” Jon sounded more like a general than a teen going into a fight to the death. “We have layers and can flow with the fight.”
Dad nodded, an approving expression on his face. “In between zones, we regroup quick, assign targets, and move away. They aren’t going to let us live, but we can go down swinging. If one of us falls,” he grimaced, shaking his head. “No lies. When one of us falls, keep moving.”
Nobody spoke, the emphasis on “when” made all our faces grim. Wendi’s hand slipped into mine. I squeezed it. At least she’d be with me until the end. A blast horn sounded, and the far door slid open.
“Okay, follow my directions, watch for the obstacles, weaknesses, and good luck,” Dad said as he turned to go.
Two guards stopped us at the door telling us to wait. The noise was deafening. I could slightly make out the blue shimmer of the force field above us.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m Desmond Roberts. Welcome to Saturday Night Showdown!” His voice echoed around the arena. “We are honored tonight to have another first in our history. The Protector will speak to us live from the Hall of Liberation.”
The noise died as if the plug were pulled. A huge four-sided screen slid down from the ceiling, stopping inches above of the shield. The screen leapt to life, and the Protector appeared, standing behind a podium. He waved to the crowd, his silver collar glittering in the spotlight.
“Citizens all over the world have paid a terrible price at the hands of Dissidents over the course of human history until the day the Reclamation rid us of this menace. Many brave men and women sacrificed themselves to build a world where the Dissidents could be shackled, returning the world to its right place, in the hands of the human race.”
The crowd roared its approval. The Protector basked in the praise of the crowd. He acted like he had done it himself. He held his hands up, and quiet resumed.
“Today marks another victory against a foe who knows no bounds. The Dissidents killed millions and destroyed cities in a quest to rule our world. We stood as one, defeating their evil. Now the Reclaimers have captured the band that murdered our children in cold blood.”
The crowd raged, screaming for vengeance. The Protector paused, reveling in the hatred of the Norms above, whipped into a fury by his words. He raised his hands for quiet, and the crowd gradually subsided.
When he could be heard, he continued. “The Reclaimers paid a great price to capture The Butcher’s accomplices.” The screen split in half showing footage of the Reclaimers attacking a building. “Brave soldiers lost their lives to ensure you would be safe. We owe them a debt of gratitude, and tonight, we will see them avenged in the Gauntlet!” His voice rose at the end and the crowd swelled to match him. Sparks flashed along the shields as the audience threw silver chains at the arena floor.
The footage of dead soldiers and a blown-apart building incited the crowd to even greater levels of hatred. A tsunami of sound hit us, forcing us to cover our ears.
“This will be a fight to the death!” he said, continuing to pump up the crowd. “The Reclaimers asked for the chance to mete out the death sentence themselves, and I have agreed. So tonight, the soldiers who protect you and your families will put their lives on the line to see justice served. May God bless their actions and allow a swift and bloody victory.”
The screens shut down, and a spotlight stabbed through the darkness stopping outside the door. “Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Protector,” Desmond said in a pious tone. “Now we are here to witness the finale of the Gauntlet. First up, the vilest of all the Dissidents, Michael Ward, the Cyclone Ranger!”
My head came up sharply. They had never used Dad’s real name before now. Something was seriously wrong. The guards pushed Dad out into the light. Head held high, he strode across the arena to the starting location. Hands behind his back, he could have been a statue carved of granite.
“Next, the first of the massacre perpetrators, The Butcher!” Abby jogged out to next to Dad. Where he stood still, she bounced, building up for the upcoming fight.
“Now, this little beauty resembles an angel, but she’s the devil’s own. The Succubus!” Wendi looked over her shoulder, mouthing “Succubus?” at me. She strolled across the space, stopping, hand on her hips, waiting for the rest of us.
“Our next Dissident is as tough as they come. That bow of his killed quite of few before they took him down. Enter the Huntsman!”
Jon rolled his eyes at me and stalked out to join the team. I waited for my turn, hoping my manner read as cool, not scared boy. With my luck, I would wet myself on national TV.
“And finally, we have the worst of the lot. A multiple murderer by the age of sixteen and the son of Cyclone Ranger,” Desmond said, pausing to let the crowd react to the news. They must have been listening to us in the holding cells yesterday. “Enter the arena Tommy Ward or, as we like to call him, The Executioner.”
Man, where the heck did they come up with these lame names? I locked my eyes on Wendi and walked slowly across, the light dazzling my sight. I’d be blinking away the aftereffects for an hour.
As one, we took our spots, Wendi and I on the left, Abby and Jon on the right with Dad in the center. Badass didn’t do us justice. I started to feel like we could do this.
Then the lights came on.
40
We were standing in the middle of a street. More accurately, the remains of a street. Concrete barricades, demolished cars, and debris littered the ground; the walls were painted to resemble a city block. At the far end, a collapsed building dominated the space. And at the very top, Mom stood, her mouth gagged and her arms tied over her head so she hung from part of the building.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to our special guest for the finale,” Desmond said. “Tonight, we have a living exit. Susan Ward, wife of Cyclone Ranger, mother of The Executioner, will share the fate of her boys. She has been convicted as an accomplice in the deaths of both the massacre victims and the Reclaimers who captured the perpetrators.”
I heard Dad gasp. His face had gone white with shock. His eyes bugged out as he took it all in, and his bottom lip shook a bit.
“The scene for our final match of the Gauntlet. Baltimore 2012. Bravo Strike Team gets a tip Cyclone Ranger and Dominion are in the area. They move out to take down two of the most ruthless killers the Dissidents ever spawned. They neutralized Dominion
with an inhibitor, but Cyclone Ranger breaks her free. In a fit of rage, he kills virtually every member of the Bravo Team. Tonight, we will settle an old score between Cyclone Ranger and the Reclaimers. In the role of Bravo Team are twenty members of the 55th elite Dissident Strike Force. Give a big Saturday Night Showdown welcome to the 55th.”
The men entered with military precision and took up stations in front of the rubble. Each wore full gear, helmets, armor, and multiple weapons.
Jon whistled. “Wow, those are HKs.”
How he knew that I’d never know. They appeared deadly from where I stood, especially since they were pointed at me. I glanced at Dad, and, well, he didn’t look right.
I stepped closer and nudged him. “You okay?”
He shook his head. “Tommy, that was the worst day of my life. Dominion took control of me and killed everyone around us with my Gift. I swore I’d never kill another person again. I can’t do this.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. We were all going to die, including Mom who didn’t even have a Gift and he couldn’t do this? “Listen,” I shouted to be heard over the increasing noise. “Your wife, my mom, is up there. She is depending on us. We will save her, no matter what. They are messing with your head, hoping for an easy kill.”
We locked eyes. I could see the panic fading. “Mom’s life is on the line. We fail, she dies. We didn’t ask for it, but it’s what we’ve got to deal with.”
I saw the steel return to his stance. A grim look of determination chiseled on his face. Cyclone Ranger was back and ready to kick some ass. “You’re right. I need my head in the game if we’re going to stand any chance.”
The applause diminished. “Only one member of Bravo Team survived the day, and he single-handedly captured Cyclone Ranger. His son tried to avenge his father’s defeat and almost did, but Lewis C. Powell is too tough to kill. So, let me introduce the Reclaimer’s super soldier, who we like to call him the Vindicator!”
Powell. Alive. That’s how they found Mom. I told the bastard.
I led them straight to her.
From behind the rubble, Powell emerged, more machine than man. Both arms and legs had been replaced with cybernetic pieces, as well as one of his eyes. Even from a distance, I could see his crew cut and the scars from his fight with Dad.
He held both arms up in victory as he crossed to the center of the line. He caught my eye and smiled. The shock on my face had to be plain as day. The left arm ended in a machine gun, the ammo belt fed over his shoulder. His right hand had been replaced by a metal cylinder.
Dad turned around. “Game plan, kids. You take down the soldiers. Powell is mine. It is time for me to put down that rabid dog once and for all.” He stuck his hand out, and we slapped our hands on top. “We take as many of them as possible. No mercy this time.”
We broke and spread out. “The Dissident team is ready to start. I’ll send it up to Chip Calloway to kick off the finale!”
The crowd howled for blood as the soldiers moved into position. All the scattered wreckage provided plenty of cover for both sides. The dampening system dropped. A surge of power blossom in my chest, and the hair on my arms rolled with waves of electricity. The horn sounded, and the fight began.
Wendi and I slid in behind a cement pillar. I expected a hail of bullets, but none came. The real battle raged at the center of the arena. Dad launched himself on a vortex of wind as Powell charged toward him. Powell roared, “He’s mine,” as a couple of the soldiers moved to intercept.
I watched the ten guys on our side leapfrog from cover to cover, trying to surround our position. I noticed one signaling the moves as they advanced. When he left cover, I let loose a blast of lightning, taking him in the chest. He flew backward, his armor melted, and laid still. I dropped as they returned fire, the sound of the bullets on concrete intense.
I wouldn’t be getting another easy shot like that, now that they knew what I could do. The robots had been immune to lightning, but not these guys. Peering around the edge, three guys flanked us. Wendi signaled we had two on her side. We needed to get outside their circle, or they’d have clean shots at us.
Wendi crawled over next to me as I concentrated on gathering the energy in my hand. I counted down three-two-one and threw the ball at the two as they crept around a broken-down Humvee. The ball detonated in front of them. As they recoiled from the blast, Wendi leapt on them, her knives flashing in a blur of motion. Blood splattered, and down they went. I jumped over a broken concrete pylon to the sounds of gunfire. I rolled and came up behind the Humvee.
Wendi still had the knives out, covered in blood. She turned and threw up on the floor. She had killed Brunner, but she had been pushed past her limits to cope that night. Now she had full control and realized what she’d done. Even though I knew I had zero choice in the decision to kill, I would be dealing with the ghosts of all the people I had killed for the rest of my life. I couldn’t deal with it now, but lots more sleepless, guilt-ridden nights would be in my future. I could hear her getting sick, but now wasn’t the time to be holding her hair. Not unless I wanted us dead while I did it.
I looked across to see Jon firing his bow at the advancing soldiers. One soldier down from an arrow and one crumbled against the side wall. Screams of fury reverberated as Abby tore into her enemies.
I couldn’t worry about the others; there were seven more Reclaimers to deal with. The first set of flankers had gotten into position. With the left flankers dead, I had some room to maneuver, but not for long. I grabbed Wendi’s arm, pulling her to the passenger side door of the Humvee.
“Can you fight?” I asked.
She nodded, but I could tell she teetered on the brink.
“Can you run down the left side and get near Mom? I’m going to try something, but it’s dangerous. If it works, these guys will be done for, but you may need to clean up if it doesn’t.”
“I’m good. It just shocked me when I…” Her eyes drifted toward the gore.
“I know, but we have to focus,” I said. “On the count of three, run for it.”
“One, two, three.” She sped away in a split second as I jumped up unleashing a low power fan of energy. Most it would do is static cling. Bullets slammed into the Humvee, and I ducked back down, but the important part happened: the driver side tires deflated. The vehicle lurched as it settled at a forty-five-degree angle.
A roar swelled up from the crowd, not a good sign. I needed to end this fast so I could help take down Powell. I stepped out from behind the Humvee, bullets flew around me, one clipping the back of my leg. I fell to the ground, part for show, part because, man, it hurt, but the surge of energy crackled through me. I dragged my leg, faking an injury. I reached down to find a welt where the bullet had opened a gash in my suit. I fell on my back and slid myself under the car.
The crowd screamed in delight. If I played it right, the soldiers would think I was down for the count. I kept still, playing possum. I concentrated on forming the shield Dad had used. Our Gifts were different, so I wasn’t sure if it would work. From the corner of my eye, I could see soldiers stalking up to the Humvee. I concentrated as much energy as I could and fired it into the gas tank. The vehicle turned into a fireball. The shield kept the worst of the damage off me, but parts of my suit burned from the explosion.
I rolled away from the burning wreckage and stood up. Pain cascaded down my spine as bullets slammed into me, knocking me down. I could barely breathe, the pain consuming me. I’m dying was all I could think. I heard a grunt from over me. “One more Mutt down, sir,” he said then paused. “Yes, sir, the rest of the squad is down after the explosion.”
I’d gotten all but one. My plan worked. I realized my breathing came back to normal, and the pain, while still intense, slackened quickly.
I felt a foot wedge under me. With a push, I flipped on to my back. I opened my eyes.
Surprise and shock registered on his face as he realized I was still alive. “How? I nailed you good.”
�
��You forgot one thing.”
“What?”
“I’m not alone,” I said with a smirk. Wendi hit him from behind at full speed with a two-by-four from the pile of rubble. He dropped like a rock, an armed and armored rock, but a rock none the less.
She knelt down, grabbing my face. “They shot you. I didn’t see the last guy with the explosion until he had shot you. I’m sorry, Tommy.”
I sat up to a chorus of boos and catcalls. “Wendi, I’m okay.”
She pulled me forward to check where the bullets had hit me. “You aren’t bleeding, but those bullets should have ripped through you.”
“I’m certainly am glad they didn’t.” She helped me to my feet. “Go back by Mom. I’m going to go help Jon and Abby.”
“No, I’m staying with you,” she said hotly. “You could have been killed. I can’t take that chance.”
“My mom is defenseless. I need you to protect her. If this goes bad for them, they will go after her to stop us.”
A grim smile touched the corners of her mouth. She understood, we had to protect Mom at all costs. “Gotcha.” And she jetted away.
I moved toward the center of the arena. Jon lay still, blood flowing from his mouth and nose, slumped against a barricade. Abby crouched down behind a dumpster. Four Reclaimers had her pinned down. I called out, but too late. She screamed an animalistic battle cry and charged toward the closest one. A flash of light flickered as an inhibitor band wrapped around her leg. Suddenly, her Gift vanished. She dropped to the floor like a wet bag of cement. The soldiers punched her, nightsticks slamming down on her as she curled into a ball, trying to protect her head.
All I could see was Brunner standing over me, kicking me while I couldn’t fight back. The arena fell away as I moved to intercept. The first guy didn’t know what hit him. I jumped from the top of a nearby pylon, delivering a massive overhead punch to the back of his helmet. I felt the helmet give way as he crumbled.
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