The Legend

by Melissa Delport

  “Not that I’m complaining, but do you mind telling me what that was about?”

  “It was nothing.” I pull my vest down over my bare torso and his gaze finally lifts to meet my eyes, comprehension dawning.

  “Nothing?” His voice is lower and I can hear the anger simmering just below his outward control. “I see . . . So I assume, then, that you don’t want me mentioning this little episode to Braveheart?”

  “If it would make you feel better, go right ahead,” I shrug, tying my sneakers. I feel rejuvenated, and I want to head down to the dojo to practise.

  “Have you completely lost your mind?” I glance up at that, at the disbelief in his tone. “What game are you playing, Rebecca?”

  “I’m not playing any game.”

  “You’ve got the two of us dangling by a goddamned string,” he counters. “You say you don’t want to be with either of us . . .”

  “Aidan’s been sneaking,” I snigger, recalling that I said this only to Aidan, but Reed continues, ignoring me.

  “And yet you rock up at my door for a booty call.”

  “You’re over-thinking it.”

  “We just made love!” I had given no thought to what he would make of my passionate assault, but obviously he is reading far more into it than I intended. I don’t want to hurt him, but I also don’t want him to make something of nothing. What I say next is intended to push him away, but it is still one of the worst things I have ever done.

  “No, we didn’t, Cowboy. I had an itch. You scratched it.”

  Faster than ever, he launches himself from the bed and grabs me roughly by the shoulders.

  “You little bitch,” he hisses, his hot breath on my face.

  “Take your hands off me.” I meet his gaze head on, refusing to be intimidated. “That’s an order.”

  Looking disgusted, he drops his arms to his sides. “Is that what I am to you? Just another soldier in your Legion?”

  “No,” I reply honestly, “you’re more than that. I can’t win this war without you.”

  He nods sadly. “Your greatest asset.”

  They are the same words he once teased me with when we were a couple. “Well, in that case, let me prove my worth.” He pulls on his jeans and T-shirt and then grabs me by my arm, his fingers biting into my skin, and marches me from the room.

  “Where the hell are we going?” I grumble, as we emerge into a courtyard.

  “The dojo.”

  “What for? Ouch!” I add as he jerks me to the left, steering me around a corner.

  “Well, seeing as all you care about is this war, the fact that you’re about as much use to us as Sofia is something of a problem.” He uses Sofia as an example out of pure malice, trying to rile me. “I’m joining your training today,” he continues pleasantly, as the gymnasium comes into view. “Let’s see if we can’t make you ever so slightly less pathetic.”

  chapter 8

  “That’s enough,” Kwan warns, as I hit the ground for the third time, this time with such force I almost black out. “You’re going to hurt her, Reed.”

  “Aw, I don’t know about that. Can someone with no feelings get hurt?”

  I have never seen Reed like this before, so brutally harsh, but I refuse to react.

  “I said enough,” Kwan repeats.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Reed brushes his hair out of his eyes. “It is enough. I’m joining the next raid, I’d better get going.” Without so much as offering me a hand to help me up, he walks out.

  Kwan kneels beside me, and I pull myself into a sitting position.

  “What did you do?” he asks seriously.

  “Nothing!” I wince as pain shoots across my lower back. “He’s just being melodramatic.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second. He’s not that way inclined. Unlike you, he rarely shows his emotions.”

  “You want me to feel sorry for him? My baby died – I think I’ve earned a little self-indulgence.”

  “You seem to have forgotten that the child you lost belonged to him too.”

  “I didn’t lose her! She was murdered!” Kwan looks startled at my assumption that the child was a girl, but I pay no heed.

  “He lost her too,” he continues calmly, ignoring my outburst. “And, worse still, he lost you.”

  I get to my feet, collecting the Bo staff from its usual position next to the weapons shelves.

  “Do you think you’re ready for that?” Kwan asks, dropping the subject. Up until now, I have been practising with the Hanbo only.

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  I stand with my legs slightly apart, holding the Bo in both hands. Kwan is watching intently, and I close my eyes, wishing I was alone. Slowly, infinitely slowly, I start to twirl the Bo, the natural rhythm feeling comfortable and familiar. I focus only on the Bo, forgetting about everything else. Kenneth Williams’ face is the hardest to force from my mind, but I grit my teeth and keep trying. I know I am allowing him to poison my life, even with so many miles between us. He is still controlling me, destroying me.

  “No,” I hiss, “get out of my head!” Finally, he is gone and I feel a surge of relief. I have barely a second to appreciate it when Kwan gives a whoop of delight. I open my eyes and the Bo clatters to the floor, but not before I register that the long staff was whirling above me faster than my eyes could track.

  “You did it!” Kwan picks up the Bo.

  “I did it,” I breathe, conflicting emotions coursing through me.

  Three days later, I only just make it to the meeting room in time, having left the dojo later than I anticipated. I am frustrated. My abilities are erratic – some days I am operating on full strength and others there is nothing but ordinary human capabilities.

  “Kenneth has declared himself,” the General’s voice oozes disdain and disappointment. “Joseph Hale has stepped down and Kenneth has officially been sworn in as President of the New United States.”

  “I wonder what changed his mind,” my father muses.

  “Well, obviously there’s no point in hiding any more,” I bite out, “now that we know of his involvement. He was only ever trying to keep his identity from us to ensure that the Legion would not act against him. He wanted me to convince our army to join him so that he would be uncontested. Obviously, I refused.”

  “Why couldn’t we have joined forces?” Morgan asks. “Surely Kenneth can’t be all bad – he was one of us for a long time. Why couldn’t we have worked together?”

  Michael rounds on his sister in astonishment. “Um . . . have you forgotten that he tortured Rebecca and almost killed her? He’s a sicko!”

  As gratifying as Michael’s indignation on my behalf is, I explain it to Morgan.

  “Kenneth wanted only the Legion, Morgan. Only our soldiers were valuable to him, because only they could ever oppose him. He wanted the rest of our community destroyed in order to protect the resources in the States and prevent our ideology spreading through NUSA.”

  “Destroyed?” the General barks across the table and I nod in confirmation. Everyone else looks disgusted. It is the first time I have shared this piece of information with the council.

  “Where is his new base?” I ask. I had destroyed the lab at the Dane Corp Plaza, and I doubted that Kenneth would operate from there now that the building had been structurally compromised.

  “The Willis Tower, according to our sources,” the General replies. “But that’s not the worst of it. One of our people has discovered intel that Williams wants to start up a new technology department specialising in weapons engineering.”

  “But that’s illegal! Eric Dane abolished traditional weapons when he created NUSA!”

  “I doubt that Kenneth’s plan is public knowledge,” my father interjects, “and besides, Bex, NUSA is an autocratic state – all the power rests in the han
ds of the President. Those who speak out will simply be exiled. Kenneth is going for the easier option. It would take years for him to rebuild the lab, whereas weapons will give him the same power, but in a faster time frame. Fortunately, it will take some months before he is ready to start testing.”

  This is hardly comforting. As it is, we are outmanned by NUSA, but if Kenneth succeeds in creating military weapons, we will stand no chance.

  “Where’s McCoy?” the General asks, only now noticing Reed’s absence.

  “He’s gone on a raid,” Kwan answers, studiously avoiding my eyes.

  “When will he be back?”

  “With any luck by this evening.”

  “You mentioned you had a plan, Miss Davis?” The General finally addresses the reason that I called this meeting.

  “Yes,” I affirm. “I’m going to take a team to Missouri to meet with Jupiter. I’m going to try to convince him to help us.”

  It is a mark of how badly the General wants to increase the Legion’s numbers that he does not press me for any details, save one.

  “How do you plan on getting through the fences?”

  “David is working on that.” I look to David and he nods.

  “Your abilities . . .” the General trails off, looking uncomfortable, as though the topic is too sensitive to talk about in front of the others.

  “. . . are returning slowly,” I finish his sentence.

  “You’ll need them if you plan on entering the States,” he points out wryly.

  As I am leaving the meeting room I stop David near the door.

  “Do you really think you can find us a way in?” I ask. Thus far he had not been very positive, although he has not let on to the council.

  “I don’t know,” he replies. “They’ll be watching the rivers and waterways, now that they know they’re a weak point.” Our last excursion into the States had been made via the Ottawa River. “I honestly don’t know,” he mumbles again, deep in thought.

  Disappointed, I turn to leave and then, on second thoughts, I round on him again. “David, I’ve been meaning to tell you – I want you in Kwan’s training programme.”

  “Why?” He looks startled. David has been Gifted with strength, but his physical fitness is severely lacking.

  “Because you’re out of shape,” I state bluntly, poking him in the soft spread of flesh around his middle. He flushes unbecomingly, but I do not apologise. There is no place on our team for David if he is not at his full physical potential.

  I pop in to fetch Alex on my way to the track field. Unsurprisingly, Brooke is with him and she trails along.

  “Can I train too?” Alex asks as he bounds along beside me. I agree, not really paying him much attention. Aidan’s face at the door when I had collected Alex was darker than thunder, and he barely greeted me, seemingly preoccupied with something. I wonder idly if Reed mentioned what happened between us.

  Michael is a few minutes late, so Alex, Brooke and I jog slowly around the track, warming up. Alex has learned to control his speed and is able to switch it on and off, unless he gets overexcited. When his speed had manifested, he hadn’t been able to resist using it at school and initially some of the other children had reacted – teasing and taunting him out of jealousy and spite. Alex had tried to curb his Gifts and, surprisingly, it was Reed’s significant presence in our lives that had helped him settle. Reed had spent a lot of time with Alex and provided a male figure that he could look up to, both of them having the Power of Three. Alex also paces himself so that Brooke can keep up. The two are inseparable, a poignant reminder of Aidan and me at that age.

  By the time Michael arrives, Alex has reached the limit of his self-control and he immediately challenges Michael to a proper race. I laugh them away, focusing on my own running and forcing my body to test its own limits. With every circuit, I increase my pace slightly, keeping my eyes planted on the track before me. I keep doing this, over and over, delighted with the progress I am making but knowing that I have yet to reach my peak. Faster and faster, the ground streaking beneath my feet.

  It is only when I hear Michael’s pounding footsteps beside me that I look up. Michael’s usual grin is nowhere to be seen. Instead, he has a look of fierce determination on his face, his cheeks are red, his eyes narrowed. He pumps his arms even harder at his sides and, like a lightning bolt, it hits me that Michael is struggling to keep up. Now I glance past him towards the stands which are nothing but a blur as I rocket past them. Laughing, I increase my pace again, and Michael falls behind, his frustrated yell echoing behind me. I am as fast as I ever was! My speed is back, finally.

  After a few laps, I head for the stands to watch Alex and the others. My euphoria is a welcome change as I take a seat, a ridiculously smug grin on my face. Alex still has far too much energy to burn and Michael is sitting cross legged in the centre of the track, issuing instructions. Brooke is following Alex’s lead, a few lanes across. I am so engrossed in the return of my speed that at first I miss it. It is only when Michael leaps to his feet that I realise something has happened. I follow the direction of his gaze to see Alex sprinting around the far track, so fast that he is almost impossible to discern. He is moving incredibly quickly but I still can’t understand the gobsmacked expression on Michael’s face. Until Alex takes my hand and squeezes it.

  I glance down in bewilderment.

  “She’s doing good, isn’t she, Mom?” he chirps, and suddenly the reason for Michael’s shock becomes crystal clear. It’s not Alex sprinting around the track. It’s Brooke.

  chapter 9

  Brooke is about a year younger than Alex. Not knowing her real birth date, I had simply chosen a random date in the same month as Alex’s birthday for her. They had turned five and six respectively last month, while I was still unconscious.

  I hasten down the stands and cross the track to stand beside Michael.

  “Can you explain it?” he asks, wide-eyed.

  “No,” I shake my head, still watching.

  “But she has the Power of Three?” he prompts.

  “Not yet. But two out of three is a pretty big indication that she will.”

  Alex’s abilities manifested in the order: strength, speed and, finally, healing. Brooke’s healing was already integrated when we found her on the street – it was how she had survived the coyote attack – and speed is obviously her second. Random orders, I muse, wondering if there is any logic in it. I am also fairly certain that if Brooke’s abilities are manifesting she must have inherited them from one of her parents. My father was right all along.

  When she finally comes to a stop, she has barely broken a sweat and looks incredibly pleased with herself.

  “Wanna race, Alex?” she grins, her green eyes alight with mischief.

  Before I can stop them, they speed off in the opposite direction, the sound of their laughter carried back to me on the wind. In that instant, my heart constricts with the agony of what will never be, and for a fleeting second the walls that I have so carefully built are stripped away. As Michael races after the two giggling children, my eyes well with tears. I trail my fingertips over my concave stomach and my jaw trembles as I push back the agony of her loss. It crept up on me during my time in the prison when losing her became a real fear, and when it dawned on me that I might never get to know her. And I knew, somehow, that the child I carried would have been a girl. A little girl with startling green eyes, just like her daddy’s.

  Oh my God!

  “Michael!” I yell across the space between us and his blond head whips around. Seeing the panic on his handsome young face, I try to calm my voice. “I have to do something, it’s urgent. Could you take these two back to Aidan’s for me?” He nods immediately and I hurry back towards the main building.

  I search the dining hall and his office to no avail but finally I track my father down in the library. He is sitting in a comf
ortable looking armchair reading a book called The Great Gatsby.

  “Dad!” As I rush over he gets to his feet, dropping the book onto the chair behind him.

  “What is it, Bex? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Brooke,” I quickly correct his assumption that there is something the matter with me. “She’s fast – her speed has just manifested.” My father’s eyes open even wider.

  “The Power of Three?” he shakes his head. “Then she must have . . .”

  “. . . inherited her abilities,” I finish. “Just like Alex.”

  “I knew it!” His excitement is mounting. “It makes sense. That’s why she doesn’t remember.”

  “I feel bad for believing her mother to be a monster who would allow her child to undergo a life-threatening procedure.” In my head I take back every horrible thought I had ever had of Brooke’s mother, who had died of dehydration a few hours before we found her daughter.

  “Ouch,” my dad remarks wryly and I smile despite myself.

  “I volunteered, remember?”

  It doesn’t take long for my father’s natural scientific curiosity to emerge.

  “I wonder if it came from her father or her mother,” he muses. “You said her mother died?” His brow wrinkles as he considers this. “It couldn’t have been from her then – if she was as exceptionally Gifted as you are, she would never have been overcome by something as simple as dehydration.”

  “It was her father,” I say softly.

  “Yes, I believe you’re right, it’s the only logical explanation. I wonder if he was perhaps one of Dane’s men . . .”

  “No,” I shake my head, “he wasn’t. Brooke’s father wasn’t with NUSA. He was out here in the Rebeldom, all along.”

  “Who . . .”

  “Think about it, Dad,” I smile. “Think about her. Who does Brooke look like?” I can see the moment the truth dawns on him and I nod.

  “She’s Reed’s child. I’d bet my life on it.” I speak with absolute conviction.