Jupiter and his small group are staying in their trailer, declining all our offers of accommodation. To be fair, the converted container is far more luxurious than anything we could offer them. Jupiter is still sulking, but meeting my father does rouse him temporarily from his dour mood.
Alex is delighted that I have returned and I make sure to spend as much time with him as my busy schedule allows. I am grateful for the distraction as my concern for Reed and Jethro mounts with each passing day. I had known that it might take some time for them to return, but each night I go to bed with a growing sense of dread. I pass Aidan a few times in and around the grounds. I want to speak to him, but he is uncharacteristically distant and with so much else going on, I can never seem to find the right moment.
I am in a dead sleep when I hear a pounding on my door and in seconds I am dressed and yanking it open to find Michael standing in the hall, his face pale.
“They’re back,” he pants and, needing no further information, I follow him out into the grounds, my heart in my throat.
What I see is beyond even my wildest expectations. Reed and Jethro, looking grey with exhaustion but elatedly triumphant, are standing at the edge of a group of blue-clad soldiers. On closer inspection, their NUSA uniforms are streaked with dirt and dust. There must be at least forty of them. Reed is chatting to a tall woman with fiery red hair – her curls pulled back into a tight ponytail.
“You made it,” I smile as I approach.
“Did you really have any doubt,” he teases, and then, gesturing me forward, “Rebecca, this is Captain Fiona Hartwell, formerly of the New United States Military. Captain, this is Rebecca Davis.”
“Fiona, please,” she insists, offering her right hand and I shake it firmly.
“Strong grip you’ve got there,” I point out her obvious strength.
“Likewise,” she quips. “It’s good to meet you, Miss Davis.”
“Rebecca,” I grin.
chapter 21
Adam and Cathy are duly summoned from town, and soon all forty-two of Fiona’s soldiers are being fed, cleaned and clothed. Surprisingly, there are also three other women in her group, including Abby who is about my age and speed-Gifted. She sticks close to her captain, rarely leaving Fiona’s side.
“Can you tell me what happened?” I ask as we take a seat in the dining hall. Fiona refused to eat until her people were taken care of. Now, she is picking at a sandwich, keeping a wary eye on the soldiers spread throughout the hall. The exiled group has a dejected air about them, and I can understand why. Most would have had family inside the States, family that in all likelihood they would probably not see again.
“When Joseph Hale stepped down and Kenneth Williams took up the presidency, I smelled a rat,” Fiona begins slowly, her amber eyes scanning the room before focusing on me. She looks to be about Reed’s age, around thirty years old. “Even before that, I guess. I was never really partial to most of Eric Dane’s laws, but I understood the logic – the method behind his madness. And he did enough good that I was prepared to look the other way – abolishing traditional weapons, for one thing.” She is lost in her own thoughts for a few moments and I clear my throat to remind her that I am waiting. “I lost my entire family in the nuclear war,” she explains eventually. “I don’t think we should ever bring back weapons engineering.” It is clear from her tone that this was ultimately the disagreement she had with Kenneth.
“You heard about Kenneth reopening the weapons tech division?”
“Yes,” she sighs. “It’s always been NUSA’s policy that we rely on our Gifted soldiers to protect the States. Weapons are not a defensive manoeuvre – I realised that Kenneth was preparing to go to war.”
“With us,” I murmur, and she nods.
“There is no doubt that you are his intended target, yes, but who is to say it will end there? If 2016 taught us anything it is that powerful men with powerful weapons will always do more harm than good.”
“So you spoke out?” I prompt, wanting to hear more about their exile.
“Yes, we all did. We foolishly believed our strength lay in our numbers. We were wrong. There could have been hundreds of us, and still we would have been banished.”
“I’m not sure if Reed has told you, but we intend to take down the President.”
“Yes, I figured that out all on my own,” she quips, “but if I’m not mistaken you’ve tried before, and it failed to change anything. What makes you think this time would be any different?”
“Because we will not give another tyrant any opportunity to seize control. We will instate one of our own people in Kenneth’s place, effective immediately.”
Fiona raises a dark red eyebrow. “You?”
“No,” I suppress a snort of laughter at the mere thought. “I wouldn’t have the first idea how to run a country.”
“Well, there’s something in that, at least,” she muses. “People who seek power for themselves seldom do any good. Those who want to secure it for someone else usually have an altruistic motive. But how can you be sure that this proposed replacement will be any better than the fools who have gone before him?”
“Because that’s him over there.” I point to where Adam is handing out clothing and reassuring the new arrivals. In his quiet, humble way, Adam’s concern for these lost souls is tangible – he cares for them just as deeply as he cares for his own people, and the Deranged whom he has dedicated his life to saving.
Fiona regards him steadily and I hold my breath, waiting for her reaction. To my dismay, she gives no indication as to her thoughts and takes a bite of her sandwich instead. There is nothing for it but to wait – she will make up her mind when she is good and ready, and not a moment before.
The following evening I make my way to the dojo to practise. Much to my surprise, Jupiter is there, along with Lydia and Sam. Lydia is examining the contents of a silver briefcase and as I approach I give a start of surprise at its contents. Row upon row of small, shiny daggers are nestled in the velvet casing. Lydia withdraws one and tosses it into the air, the blade spinning four times before she catches it expertly in her right hand.
“Punching bag,” Jupiter drawls, slinging his arm around Sam’s thin bony shoulders. Lydia doesn’t hesitate. She spins on the spot, hurling the dagger at the red punching bag a few feet from me. The silver blade whizzes past my right ear and pierces the red leather, the blade embedded in the bag. Lydia smiles benignly at me and turns back to the briefcase.
“Oh hello, Rebecca. I didn’t see you there,” Jupiter drawls unconvincingly.
“I’m sure you didn’t,” I retort, crossing the room to join them and keeping my voice light.
“Blue chair,” Jupiter flicks his hand lazily at the opposite end of the room and I hear the hiss of air and a soft thud as the second dagger finds its target. As if reading my thoughts, Jupiter explains.
“Lydia is Gifted with strength.”
“Strength has nothing to do with her aim,” I concede, impressed.
“She’s been practising a long time.”
“Apparently.”
“Are you here to train?”
“Yes.”
“Lydia,” Jupiter beckons her over. “You don’t mind?” he adds, raising an immaculate eyebrow at me.
“Not at all.” I take up position in the centre of the empty space and Lydia faces me.
Like ghosts, Patrick and Randall emerge from the shadows to watch us, and out of the corner of my eye I notice Sam snuggle even closer to Jupiter. I know that Jupiter is still seething over his loss of control of the Missouri fences and I wonder if this is some elaborate trick. I wait patiently for Lydia to make the first move but the brunette stands perfectly still, eyeing me warily and doing the same.
Heaving a sigh, I dart forward, grab her right arm and twist it up behind her back. She gives a gasp of pain but twists violently, freeing
her arm and at the same time bringing her knee up into my stomach, winding me. I grab her leg before it touches the ground again and jerk it upwards, unbalancing her. She crashes to the ground, landing on her coccyx, and I hear Jupiter chuckle. Lydia’s eyes flash with anger and she leaps to her feet, backing up a few paces and waiting me out.
“You know you’re welcome to join our training programme,” I offer, but she rolls her eyes. “Kwan is the best mentor,” I add, as we start to circle each other. “He works wonders with the Legion.”
“We are not your Legion,” Jupiter reminds me coldly. “We play no part in your war.”
As I turn to look at him, Lydia leaps into the air and her fist comes thundering down towards me. Faster than a cat, I dive aside, using my hands to propel myself off the ground as I sweep my legs back in an arc. As Lydia lands, I trip her up. She knocks her face on the cushioned mat and a small trickle of blood appears at the corner of her mouth. I step forward and offer her my hand, and she takes it reluctantly. I pull her to her feet and regard her thoughtfully.
“I’m impressed,” I concede, “but it’s not really a fair fight. Come on – I have a better idea.”
“Ready?” I ask, holding the Bo in my hands. Lydia nods, grinning, the briefcase on the table in front of her. Even Jupiter and Sam look animated, leaning forward to watch. “Okay, go,” I say, and she flings her right arm forward, the small dagger hurtling through the air towards me. I swing the Bo to the right and knock it off its trajectory, already tracking the next, which is in mid-air. Lydia doesn’t hesitate, she throws one dagger after another. The tenth is my undoing and, unable to deflect it, I throw myself towards the ground, using the Bo as an anchor, and rolling forward in a low somersault. There is a moment’s silence and then Jupiter laughs, a low grumbling sound, and he starts to clap. Lydia bobs a small curtsy, and I get to my feet.
“You win,” I smile, setting the Bo staff down and picking up one of the daggers. I test the point on my fingertip and a small drop of blood blossoms on my pale skin. “Your girlfriend is more than just a pretty face,” I call over to Jupiter, testing a theory, and he gives a peal of laughter. Lydia also looks amused, but Sam scowls sulkily.
“Lydia is my sister,” Jupiter corrects, taking Sam’s hand and confirming my suspicions about his sexuality.
“Still more than just a pretty face,” I utter casually.
I am chatting to my dad the following morning as we watch Alex playing ball with Michael. As usual, Brooke is with us and she has roped Heath and Oliver into pushing her on the swing. Heath’s group is naturally good-humoured, especially Oliver and Matt, who never stop joking amongst themselves.
“Higher!” Brooke screeches over her shoulder and Oliver pushes her so hard that Heath ducks in order to avoid being pulverised as she comes flying the opposite way.
“Take it easy!” Heath grumbles, but Oliver simply shrugs.
“I obviously don’t know my own strength,” he teases, unapologetic. Neither my dad nor I can help smiling. Oliver is well liked by everyone and he reminds me poignantly of Tim, one of my soldiers who had died after being attacked by a Deranged man when we explored the west coast.
“I didn’t think I would ever meet anyone weirder than Adam,” I say, getting back to our conversation.
“Nor did I,” my dad agrees. “He’s a piece of work, that Jupiter. So, Lydia is his sister and Sam his lover?”
“Yep,” I nod in affirmation and then add timidly, “you don’t mind that I promised him your help, when this is all over?”
“Not at all, Bex. We need his lab. And, to be honest, I’m intrigued. When this is all over I can think of nothing more exciting than helping Jupiter with his projects. I mean, air travel? Think of the possibilities.”
I know exactly what he means. Air travel and satellite communications would enable us to make contact with the rest of the planet, to find out what has become of the world outside America.
“When are you going to tell Reed?” my dad asks, changing the subject, and we both watch as Brooke gets off the swing, steals the ball away from Alex and races towards her own goal.
“Soon.” I am dreading telling Reed the truth about Brooke. Up until now I have been fooling myself that I am waiting for the right moment, but in truth I am nervous of his reaction to the fact that I have kept it a secret for so long. I know Reed – he won’t take it lightly.
chapter 22
Everything seems to be even more urgent now that Morgan has defected to NUSA. We have no idea how much she will reveal to them and we are constantly vigilant. A NUSA convoy could arrive on our doorstep any day. Fiona Hartwell has been offered a place on the council, given that she is in charge of a large number of the soldiers currently residing on the Academy grounds.
“She won’t tell them,” Michael iterates loudly, for what feels like the hundredth time. This is the second council meeting since we have been home. The General, although delighted by the progress we have made with the lab – we have already successfully Gifted seven men – is uncompromising.
“Son, we have no idea what your sister will do. Her allegiance has shifted. We need to prepare for the worst.”
I don’t correct him, not even to spare Michael’s feelings. He speaks the truth. We cannot possibly predict what Morgan will do now. I can only hope that her love for her brother and her inherent desire to keep him safe will ensure her silence. I suspect that Morgan did not want to give up the Legion – that she did not want to betray us. Rather, I think she simply wanted an out, for herself and for Michael. She wanted an ordinary life, to let others continue the fight without her. I also suspect that this was more for Michael’s benefit than her own. We had all noticed Michael’s sudden urge to be involved – his recklessness, his desire to take action. It worried Morgan, I know it did. And what better way to ensure he stayed out of danger than retreating from the war altogether, and keeping him out of harm’s way?
Unfortunately, her plan had backfired. The very thing that she was trying to prevent had resulted in her worst fears coming true. Michael had abandoned her for the cause that could get him killed. I still harbour a secret hope that Morgan will find her way back to us, but for now we can do nothing but wait.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t move everyone to safety?” Adam voices his concern and I see Fiona’s head lift in his direction. She has had plenty of time to watch Adam and I am almost certain that his natural philanthropy is not lost on her. Adam is inspiring – to know him is to like him. He is in favour of moving our people once more until the threat is contained, but this is not possible.
“We’ve discussed this,” the General argues, “and logistically it can’t be done. Besides, we have nowhere else to go.”
“He’s right, Adam,” I respond. “But I do think we should get everyone who is not required to be here at the Academy off the premises. We can send them all into town. If,” I meet Michael’s agitated glance, “if Morgan does spill, she will tell them about the Academy – not the town. Her gripe is with me, not our civilians.”
Everyone agrees, although it dawns on me that Alex and Aidan will be leaving too. My heart sinks at the thought, but Adam is right – it is too risky for them to remain here.
“The children will be moved tomorrow,” my father speaks out and then, catching my eye, he continues, “all of them.”
I nod, understanding his underlying message.
I try to follow Reed as everyone files out of the room, summoning the courage to tell him the truth about Brooke, but I am intercepted by Fiona.
“You have my full support,” she begins briskly. “Just tell us what you want us to do.”
“Thank you,” I reply gratefully. “I can’t tell you how much that means to us.”
“I would like to ask if my men can join the training programme,” she continues, barely acknowledging my gratitude.
“Absolutely – you can ar
range everything with Kwan.” Fiona and Kwan seem to get along well, perhaps because they are so much alike. Fiona is also serious and disciplined. She gives me a perfunctory nod and strides down the corridor.
I follow after her and soon enough I come across Reed, who has stopped to chat to Crackerjack and Little Chef – two of Adam’s Ordinary. To my surprise, he is heading towards the library. I watch from just inside the door as he walks between the shelves. He seems very familiar with the set-up and strides purposefully to one shelf in particular where he lifts up a thick book and then settles down on the floor to read. I move along the adjacent row, peeping at him through the neatly stacked books. When I am directly opposite him, I come to a halt, content just to watch as he leans back against the wall of books behind him, his legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles. I can just make out the cover of the book and I press my lips together to keep from smiling.
“You gonna say what you want to say, or you gonna stalk me for the rest of the day?” he drawls suddenly, not even bothering to look up from his book.
“You know, I always thought your knowledge of the stars was impressive,” I reply, making my way around the shelf. “Now I know why.” I stop beside him, nodding my head at the astronomy book he is holding.
“You learn something new every day,” he grins, but his next words remind me of the unpleasant task at hand. “What’s up?”
I don’t answer immediately and he drops the book onto the floor, gets to his feet and scans my face. “What is it, Tiny?” he repeats, concern etching a slight frown on his brow.
“Reed,” I touch his arm lightly and he glances down at my hand. I feel the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers and my heart flip-flops in my chest. Those wicked green eyes lock on mine and I deliberately take a step back and break the contact. “There’s something you need to know, it’s about Brooke.”
His smile falters, a look of bewilderment replacing it. “What about her?”
The Legend Page 15
