Winter's Legacy: Future Days (Winter's Saga Book 6)

by Karen Luellen

  Valen looked up at the clock and caught Nate’s eye. Knowing she was warning him of the time, he nodded once.

  As though reading their minds, Rhett carefully moved to replace the barbell onto its rack. Nate grabbed the bar and helped ease it onto the hooks.

  “Clean up and meet me downstairs in five,” he nodded to both soldiers as he sat up from the bench and swung his legs over.

  “Yes, sir,” the soldiers clipped respectfully.

  Four minutes later, Nate and Valen were standing at the ready as Rhett came bounding down the stairs. All three were still damp from showers, but they were wide-eyed, alert and revved up.

  “Let’s do this,” Rhett nodded and walked with confidence out the doors. Ever cautious, Rhett didn’t risk taking the Jeep waiting for him in the parking lot. Instead, he took off in a long-legged sprint, feet barely making a sound as he navigated by starlight the path to the Retribution Pit. Valen and Nate took up their positions behind and to either side of their leader.

  Within minutes, they were rounding the stadium-like seating. The murmurs died down immediately as thirty-three sets of eyes followed Rhett. He took his place in front of the watchful group and acknowledged each of his soldiers before looking around the Retribution Pit thoughtfully.

  “We’ve all been here before. We’ve seen the matches, weeding out the weak. Kill or be killed. We’ve been taught to believe this is a good and honorable way to live—and to die.” The seventeen-year-olds seemed to collectively lock their jaws—evidence of the self-aware undercurrent that set 17th Company apart from the rest. Rhett nodded with approval at the reaction, knowing full well he taught them to think for themselves.

  “Our Metahuman way of life is all any of us has ever known—until now. As you have been informed, our Company has been ordered to mobilize. We are being shipped out to The States to take down a group of formidable metahumans who have been characterized as a threat to our way of life. I’ve read the files detailing the talents this group possesses. Their numbers are few, but their abilities reach beyond anything we’ve ever encountered. The group is led by The Original Three.” A low murmur swept through the rapt audience.

  “I know we’ve all heard rumors of the advanced ‘gifts’ of the Originals. If the dossier is accurate, it confirms those rumors.” Eyes were wide with the implications as whispers rose.

  Rhett raised his hands and the anxious group quieted.

  “However, I believe the dossier is only telling part of the truth. Before I risk the lives of my Company, it is my duty to uncover all the facts and only then make an informed decision about The Winter Clan.”

  “‘If,’ sir?” A female meta was brave enough to question Rhett’s reasoning. All eyes were wide and staring at their leader in both fear and awe, awaiting his response.

  Rhett took a slow, deep breath and parked his hands on his slender hips before responding. “Are we so indoctrinated to believe Dr. Williams that we can’t think for ourselves? Life at the Facility is all we’ve ever known, but who’s to say it is the right way to live? If the dossier is to be believed, why would four of our finest have defected to join The Original Three? Why? If they are such a threat to our way of life, why would Creed and Gavil Young, Farrow Schone and Dr. Sloan Mor give up everything they’d ever known, risk their lives and fight alongside the Winters?” Rhett paused, thinking.

  “On the other hand, your judgment may be biased toward the Winters’ elimination based on a sense of vengeance for friends lost in the research hospital that day.” He scanned the faces of his soldiers knowing they were weighing their decision carefully.

  “Do we really have a choice, sir?” Another soldier asked over the worried whispers of the crowd.

  “Always, in everything you think and do. I have tried to teach you this over the years.” Rhett nodded solemnly as he addressed the crowd sounding more like a teacher than a soldier. “How you live your life is simply a matter of choice, but you must decide who is doing the choosing. Will it be you or will you give that power to someone outside you?” His gray eyes flashed with fervor.

  “After a thorough reconnaissance of the Winter Clan, I will report back to you. All final decisions are left to each of you. I can only advise you to choose carefully—there will be consequences for your actions. In the end, only you can decide for yourself what is a good and honorable way to live—and die.”

  The crowd stayed hushed as they absorbed the gravity of Rhett’s words.

  Rhett glanced to Nate and wordlessly passed him center stage. Nate nodded and stepped forward to speak. “We will assemble at-the-ready promptly at oh-seven-thirty hours. Leave your quarters void of all personal effects. Despite personal feelings on the matter, our 17th Company’s clandestine meetings have always been both voluntary and guarded. Leave nothing behind that could jeopardize the absolute confidentiality of the group, and refrain from expressing questions or concerns until they can be addressed discreetly while en route to our directive. That is all.”

  Rhett nodded once to the silent crowd and walked confidently away, Valen and Nate falling into line behind him.

  Members of 17th Company peeled away from the bleachers in small groups of two and three slipping quietly into the night.

  25 The Hitchhiker

  Meg started at a brisk walk before breaking into a jog up the hill. Every step further away from the sadness of death affirmed her irrepressible desire to live.

  Standing at the edge of the highway, she opened her mind to the oncoming traffic. A smile slipped across her face as it occurred to her how dangerous hitchhiking would ordinarily be.

  But I’m the most dangerous thing on this highway. She pulled her shoulders back and felt stronger than she had in weeks.

  A silver truck came barreling down the highway. Meg felt the malevolence even before she saw the obnoxious decal flames down the sides or the crude bumper stickers with her sharp metahuman eyes.

  As it approached and slowed, Meg wished she could un-read them. This guy was a jerk. She felt his nastiness waft from the passenger door he pushed open for her. His teeth were stained from years of chewing tobacco. His oily face and bulbous, broken-veined nose proved he was no stranger to hard drink. He wore his baseball cap with a severe crimp in the bill and his red and black plaid shirt unbuttoned to show off an egregious amount of chest hair.

  “Hey pretty darlin’,” he called to her with an up-nod. “Lookin’ for a ride?”

  Meg debated.

  Not that she was afraid of this loathsome creature. She knew she could control him with minimal effort. But she wasn’t sure her stomach could handle the stench rolling off him.

  “No, but I do need some cash. Please be a gentleman and toss me your wallet and cell phone.”

  The ape-minded man stared, slack-jawed at the girl who stood with her hands on her hips, long dark curls desperately trying to take flight, free from the bandana she’d left with Niche’s body. Meg just smiled and waited for the rusty cogs of his brain to turn over.

  “Yes, miss,” he stammered, reaching into his front, breast pocket for the thick wad of a wallet, then yanked the charger out of the phone that had been tossed in the center console.

  “Leon? Your name is Leon isn’t it?”

  “Yes miss,” he stared in a daze.

  “You’re going to clean up your life. Starting today, you’ll be concerned about hygiene and manners. You’ll quit dipping and start making healthier decisions.” Meg took the wad of money out of his wallet, leaving him with a fifty-dollar bill. “Oh and Leon,” she locked eyes with the dazed driver and pushed a little harder, “from this moment forward you will treat women with respect and appreciation.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  Meg nodded once and tossed the nearly empty wallet back into the cab. She grimaced at the grime-y condition of the phone, but held onto it anyway. “Drive away Leon,” Meg ordered over her shoulder as she turned to walk away.

  “Yes, miss,” she heard him say once more before the door to the c
ab closed and the engine roared back to life.

  Meg shook her head and pocketed the four hundred dollars and used the edge of her shirt to wipe down the phone in a vain attempt to minimize her exposure to whatever Leon had been doing with his phone.

  She punched in her mother’s phone number first, and frowned when it went directly to voicemail. She tried Alik’s number, then Evan’s but heard the same automated message: “The number you have dialed is disconnected or no longer in service.”

  In desperation she tried the last three numbers she had memorized, but knew before she pressed send that each would be just as useless as the last.

  Shit.

  She scowled angrily at the phone, willing it to give her an idea. Nothing came to her, but just to add insult to injury, a low battery alert popped onto the screen. She moaned in frustration and turned the phone off in an effort to save some power before pocketing the piece.

  With a deep breath, she turned her attention to securing a safe ride home. She would have to use other means to get ahold of her family.

  Ten minutes later, an old beige Cadillac pulled up beside her. She had willed this one to stop for her having sensed a kindhearted, though wary grandfather driving back from a visit to his adult son’s home.

  Meg turned and faced him as he slowed to a stop beside her.

  “Are you okay, miss?” he asked, cautiously—but sincerely concerned for her safety.

  “Yes sir, though I would appreciate a ride.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  “South, to Texas.”

  “Well, I’m going as far as Oklahoma. You’re welcome to ride along with me.”

  Meg smiled as she opened the passenger door and slipped inside.

  “I can help pay for gas, sir,” Meg offered as she laid the wad of money, compliments of Leon, on the console between their seats.

  “That would be really helpful, miss.” He smiled a denture smile. “I’m on a fixed income and the gas budget was going to be tight.”

  “Glad to help.” Meg nodded, knowing he had no money for food or lodging after having spent a little too much yesterday at the baseball game treating his grandchildren.

  The gentleman started to pull away from the curb. “I’m Hugh Charles.” He offered a leathery, arthritic hand. Meg took his hand gently. “I’m Meg Winter.”

  “Do you mind me asking what you were doing out here all alone, Meg?”

  “I had to say good-bye to some friends,” Meg murmured the truth, thinking of Niche’s last words to her.

  “Some friends,” the gentleman huffed, “to have left you out here alone!”

  Meg gazed out the window at the blurring scenery flying past. “They didn’t want to leave me. Sometimes good-byes happen so much sooner than anyone would have hoped, and sometimes we don’t even get to say good-bye.” Her eyes started to swell with fresh tears and this time, she let them flow. There needs to be time to grieve. Loss is loss.

  26 Tears, Sweat and the Sea

  The van, driven by Theo, cut through the otherwise calm predawn night. He’d given up arguing with Margo. Besides, with the windows down, it had become a yelling match between them over the roar of the wind slapping around the boxy vehicle. The chemical fumes emanating off Alik’s maced body were causing the other occupants in the van to suffer with stinging eyes and coughing fits, so the fresh air was necessary.

  In the end, Theo came to terms with the fact that he didn’t have a better idea, so he may as well support Margo’s crazy salt water solution. If nothing else, they were at least driving toward a city where they could find refuge from the impending sandstorm.

  He checked the rearview mirror just as much to make sure the other part of their family was still following in the sedan as to check Farrow and Alik in the far back row. He saw Farrow’s mouth moving, so he knew she was still talking to the poor kid as she worked to remove as much of the chemical as she could from his eyes and face. Every other minute, Alik would double over coughing painfully trying to get enough oxygen through the swollen lining in his nose and throat.

  Theo glanced at Margo who was sitting resolute in her wheelchair, eyes straight forward, arms wrapped around a sleeping Danny. Maze was curled protectively at her feet, head up and eyes alert. Margo wanted to move her youngest as far away from the chemical fumes as possible, so she let Danny climb into her lap and encouraged him to tell her all about a dream he had that showed him how to use his healing gift. She listened with rapt attention. That was forty minutes ago. Now he’d drifted to sleep. His blonde curls and pale skin seemed to have a radiant quality, as though there were an inner light burning brightly making the child slightly luminescent in the dark.

  Funny, Theo thought. I’ve never noticed that before. It’s probably just the glow of the dashboard lights hitting just right.

  He frowned to himself as he doubled his focus on the stretch of road before him. In the not too far-off skyline, he saw the twinkling man-made lights of the industrial buildings surrounding the saltwater lake. Theo reached to raise just his and Margo’s windows so they would be able to talk over the windy roar.

  “We’re almost there,” Margo locked her jaw and nodded to the lights that became brighter with each mile.

  “How exactly should we do this?”

  “The lake used to be a busy vacation spot years ago. Now it’s lost its appeal and industrial plants started popping up, leaving hundreds of abandoned vacation homes. We should be able to find a house we can use to wait out the storm after.”

  “After—”

  “After Danny heals us in the salt water, of course.”

  “Right.” Theo pursed his lips together as though forcibly willing his rational words to stay inside. He decided to go down a different path. “So how do you know so much about this lake?”

  “After Danny first shared his dream with me, I started to do some research,” Margo’s gaze moved from the industrial lights to the little boy in her arms before she continued. “Fayed Oasis was one of just a few lakes in the area that used to be freshwater millions of years ago. As you can imagine, the area got very little freshwater from rain, so through natural weathering, the sun’s evaporation took the fresh water and left the salt. The entire lake became concentrated with the mineral. Now it is very much a salty body of water.”

  “Humph,” was all Theo thought safe enough to say.

  “You don’t think this will work.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Theo chose his words carefully. “I want it to work.”

  “Where is your faith?” she asked softly.

  “Faith in God, miracles, unexplainable phenomena—I think I’ve found a balance between my scientific and spiritual beliefs.” He cleared his throat, trying to filter through his thoughts while maintaining integrity. “I’ve seen each of the children do some pretty fantastic things. They have been gifted; this is a fact. I just don’t think we should hinge all our hope on the dreams of that four-year-old child. It just doesn’t seem wise. The children are depending on us to help them fix this mess. I just don’t want to let anyone down, Margo.”

  “I see it differently. It takes courage to walk on faith. And when I say ‘courage’ I do not mean fearlessness.” Margo shook her head emphatically. “We must have the kind of courage that knows full well the dangers, but holds hands and jumps anyway. That is courage. That is faith. I choose to be faith-filled.”

  “Margo, I understand what you’re saying, and I don’t disagree entirely. Have you ever heard the story of the two men who were camping in the woods when a huge bear dashed out of the trees and came right for them?”

  Margo, sighed and held Danny a little closer to her chest. “I may have, but go on.”

  “Both guys start running for their lives, the bear hot on their heels. One man yells to the other, ‘Wait, I believe in God. I’ll just kneel right here and pray for help.’ The other guy yells back, ‘I believe in God, too, but he gave me legs, so I’m gonna run and pray’.”

  “
Yes, I’ve heard it before. In the service we used to call it ‘running and gunning’.” Margo stifled a yawn before continuing. They hadn’t slept in more than a day. “What if instead of running and praying, one of the men chose to fight and pray? And if he’d believed the dream he had the night before of a bear attacking and so brought along a tranquilizing gun, how quickly would the threat be secured?”

  “There are a lot of ‘if’s’ in your version.”

  “Exactly! But if I’m being attacked, I’m not running. I’m going to use any means within my power to gain the advantage and counterattack. That’s what I see us doing, Theo. We’re getting ourselves as ready as we can to fight back.”

  Theo’s pursed lips turned into a tight smile. “This is just your way, isn’t it?”

  “I became a soldier for this reason—and I was a damn good one, too. I am truly sorry if you disagree with me but—”

  “I know, I know. I don’t have a better idea, so the plan stays. We jump into the flame together.” He reached out and rubbed Margo’s shoulder tenderly. They exchanged expressions of resolve in the glow of the industrial lights illuminating the sky around the salt lake.

  27 Salt of the Earth

  Sloan couldn’t distinguish which of them was in more peril. Sitting between a beat-up Cole and a shot-up Kylie, she’d given up changing gloves as she worked to control the chaos in the back seat of the sedan barreling down the road to God knows where.

  Evan kept glancing into his rearview mirror trying to let Sloan do her work without comments from him. Cole was like a brother and Kylie—well, he didn’t know what to think of her—but he knew he wanted her to live.

  “What’s your relationship with the girl?” Creed nodded toward the back seat interrupting Evan’s thoughts.