EVO Nation Series Trilogy Box Set

by K. J. Chapman

  “Any idea what it could be?” Rafe asks, sitting forward in his chair, his eyes studying Adam’s reactions.

  Rafe sits bolt upright, and the same feeling that must have stirred in his mind enters mine. There are hundreds of people nearby. They are depressed, hurting, scared, confused.

  “Adam?” I whisper, hoping he has sensed it too.

  “Stop the van!” Adam bellows. The brakes screech as we skid to a dicey stop.

  “I feel sick,” I say, fighting back the auras that smother me in depression and pain.

  Rafe places a cool hand against my cheek. “Block it out. Adam, are you good?”

  “I’ll be alright,” Adam replies, shaking out his head.

  “What is it?” Leoni asks. She shares a troubled look with Jude.

  “Chief, look at this!” TORO 94 says, pointing to the screen.

  Words type across the black in green, bold font. ‘That is an EVO detention centre. Look to your left.’ Torchlight flickers about three hundred yards away. ‘That’s us.’ The words read.

  “Take us over slowly,” Adam orders. “Rafe, have you got a read on them?”

  Rafe gestures for the van to continue. “There’s seven. I think a Cloaker and a Tech, possibly either a Telekin or an Aerokin. I can’t differentiate ability by thought alone. Fernan’s with them.”

  “I don’t like this,” Jude mutters.

  I hold my breath for the twenty seconds it takes the van to make the bumpy journey over to them.

  A black van is parked behind a thicket, and seven people, just as Rafe accounted for, watch our approach. Even with the headlights, it’s hard to discern man from woman, old from young. As we draw to a stop, one figure with a hood cloaking their face walks toward us using a cane.

  Adam gestures for everyone to exit the van. The mizzle is thick and dampens our clothing instantly.

  “The Old Timer, the TORO, and the Ghost,” says a female voice from within the hood. Shaking her head free, brunette hair tumbles around her petite face. She can’t be more than her mid-twenties, and despite her youth, there is something intimidating in her eyes. Some of the people behind her are double her age, but it’s clear that she is the boss here.

  “Fernan,” Rafe says, holding out his hand. She looks at it for a moment before shaking it.

  Fernan? I had assumed that was a man’s name. How wrong I was. This woman – Fernan - is the leader of the E.N.C. Wow, don’t judge a book and all that jazz. She gives me the once over, and then asks me to remove the wig. I do as I’m told, and she clicks her tongue at the sight of the scar on my scalp.

  “Why’d you bring us here?” Adam asks.

  “Because you want something from us, and we have conditions.” She leans heavily on her cane as the keen wind threatens to blow us away. “We will join forces with you. We will end this with you, but we will not stop our campaign.”

  She seems to know a lot about us.

  “No bombings,” Rafe warns. “That’s not who we are.”

  The man behind her laughs, but one pointed look from Fernan, and the smile drops from his face.

  “We’re activists.” Fernan maintains her measured tone. “Proving points is what we do.”

  “There are other ways to prove points!” I snap. “Killing innocent people is not one of them.”

  My outburst appears to amuse her. “And how clean are those delicate hands of yours? We do what we can to better our position. It’s that hard and that simple.” Turning to Adam and Rafe, she points in the direction of the detention centre. “You’re here for our numbers. Why else would Rafe Lloyd be contacting the E.N.C. What if I told you that I could double them, maybe more?” She points to the hill. “There are about two hundred EVO in that detention centre. There are two other centres in various locations around Britain. You want an army. We want to prove points. Help us to help them.”

  “You want us to help you over run detention centres?” Rafe asks.

  Fernan shrugs. “They’re angry, desperate, and want to rip Towley’s throat out. I’m sure they’ll declare loyalty to those who rescue them from hell and hand them a weapon. Especially, if the face of their saviour is hers. I hear you’re quite the powerhouse. Dual-EVO, right?”

  Of course, she’d know all about me. She has my mother’s knowledge on tap.

  “How about Mega-EVO?” Rafe adds. “Both Teddie and Adam have three abilities a piece due to their telepathic link.”

  Fernan doesn’t hide her surprise. “Even better. Wow, this really is turning into a good day. So, what do you say? You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”

  “We’ll do it,” Adam replies.

  Rafe’s lips thin in annoyance at Adam’s solo decision, but rather than raise an argument, he agrees. “This may work to our benefit.”

  Fernan offers a toothy smile. It’s jarring and unsettles me. “See, we can work together, after all.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Adam warns. “It’s early days, yet.”

  Rafe folds his arms across his chest in agreement.

  “Well, I might have something to sweeten the deal a little more. TORO are trained to operate any vehicle, yes?”

  “Pretty much,” Adam admits.

  Fernan heads back to her van, leaving us reeling in her wake. “You’re going to want to see what I have found. Follow us and quickly. They send scout vehicles out every hour, on the hour.”

  ***

  We follow Fernan for another twenty minutes through the dark countryside, the ominous threat of military scouts hanging over us like a knife ready to fall. Eventually, when the muddy track gives way to a gravel road, we gain in speed and put distance between us and the detention centre.

  After what feels like an eternity of country lane and off-road driving, the van in front draws to a stop. The dense tree line beside us is reinforced by vast bushes. One of Fernan’s crew hops out of the van, crosses to the side of the road, and sticks his hands into the bushes. He struggles with a large portion of shrubbery. He lifts a wooden framework that holds the brambles and greenery in place. It’s a secret entrance. This shouldn’t excite me, but it does.

  The vehicles crawl through the small opening, and the shrubbery gateway is put back in place behind us. Adam nudges me with his elbow and points to the figures lurking in the trees. They’re barely noticeable in the shadows, but I think they’re purposely revealing themselves out of interest.

  “Do you reckon they know that Teddie’s in the van?” Leoni asks. She takes my hand, making me more nervous.

  Rafe pats her knee tenderly. “Oh, they know.”

  Reaching out, I soak in the excitement and curiosity of their auras. If they don’t know about me, something else has riled their interest.

  Adam doesn’t speak. He’s concentrating on every last detail, taking in every person, the surroundings, and no doubt, the vibes he’s feeling from the auras. I’m pretty sure he has at least five escape plans already turning over in his head. That part of him was born in the army and reinforced during TORO training.

  Dim light filters through the trees, revealing a building of some kind. It’s fairly large, but small enough that the tallest trees are higher than its roof. We pull up outside of an abandoned chapel. The light is glowing out of a stained-glass window. It has a big crack through it and some missing panes, but it’s still a pretty beacon in the gloomy mist. There are tents outside, but not the vast quantities I was expecting.

  “If she can hold all of her people in there, then she has nowhere near the numbers we need,” Rafe mutters to Adam as we disembark the truck.

  “Don’t look so worried,” Fernan calls. “I have other bases in different locations. It is easier to hide in smaller groups, but I’m pretty sure we don’t have the number of members that you were thinking. This is the base that I’m using at the moment because it’s the closest, most secure location to the detention centre.” She gestures for us to follow her. “We were housing EVO civilians, children, old folk, those who can’t or won’
t fight, but after you sent the D.N.A profile, and we were certain we didn’t have to follow through on our threat toward Syndicate, we shipped them off to Grayson James. His numbers have increased by nearly five hundred. He’s certainly got his work cut out. If we can barely find enough food, Grayson James sure as hell won’t.”

  She was going to put all those innocent people in Syndicate in danger, and then sends her own people there. I know Grayson won’t turn them away, but that’s not the point.

  A frail woman totters out through the bulky doors. She is quite the sight with dirty jeans, a loose fitted jumper, and unkempt, red hair.

  Shana.

  There is a stand-off between us. She plays with the fraying sleeves of her jumper, never taking her eyes from me. Jude calls her name, but she doesn’t so much as flinch. She shambles toward me, stopping just feet away. I haven’t seen her since that fateful night, and in that time, she has aged considerably. Her face is pale and drawn in, and her lips virtually non-existent. She has the shakes. No supplies must mean no alcohol.

  She throws herself at me, and for a brief moment, I think she is going to hit me. To my surprise, she collapses against me in tears. She is as light as a feather and her bones jut out under her clothes.

  “I thought you were dead,” she says, running her hands all over my hair and face. “Look at you. Look at you.” Her thumb lingers on the scar that cuts through my face. “I’ve longed to see your face again. There are many things I need to say to you.”

  Who is this woman? How do I respond to a stranger? The Shana I knew barely said two words to me, and if she did, it was insults and hate-filled remarks.

  She leans away from me a little, studying my face with a furrowed brow. “Please, say something, Teddie.”

  The words catch in my throat and I flounder. “This is too much,” I whisper, putting a bit of distance between us.

  Adam comes to my rescue, offering a hand to Shana. “Nice to meet you, Mrs Leason. I’m—”

  “Adam,” Shana says, ignoring his hand and bringing him into an embrace. “You’re Leoni’s boy. I remember you. You’ve been looking after my Teddie.” She holds his face in her hands and smiles up at him. “Thank you, Son.”

  Adam is muscled aside as Jude’s impatience to greet his sister gets the better of him. They hug and cry, and still, I can’t seem to get my head straight. Rafe places a reassuring hand on my shoulder that doesn’t go unnoticed by Shana.

  “Dad,” she sobs.

  She doesn’t look to embrace him, instead, she stands and bawls like a child needing reassurance from their parent. Rafe seems to react in much the same way as me, but after a deep inhale, he bridges the space between them and holds his daughter. Sure, it’s awkward and stilted, but that’s what more than twenty years of absence does.

  Leoni replaces Shana in front of me, taking back the role of mother. I’m more than happy that she does. I think this is her whole reason for being on this mission. This meeting went a lot different than I had planned, and I need a little familiarity to get my head around it. Leoni is familiar to me as a mother figure, more so than Shana. I’m not sure what this is with Shana, but seeing her has tugged on my heart strings and made me feel as guilty as hell for choosing to ignore Celeste’s information regarding her. From the slump in Rafe’s shoulders, I reckon he feels it too.

  “Come on, Sweetie, let’s get you inside and out of this rain,” Leoni urges.

  Shana steps aside to let us pass and touches Leoni’s arm as she goes. “Thank you,” she says.

  “No need to thank me,” Leoni replies, pulling me closer to her and away from Shana.

  Shana bristles, but surprisingly, shows understanding. There isn’t much she can say to defend herself, and I would think less of her if she tried.

  Fernan waits impatiently at the chapel, leaning on her cane with a look of irritation on her face. “Now that’s over with, can we get down to business.”

  Inside the chapel, every person stops what they’re doing, standing to attention as Fernan leads us in. All eyes fall on me, and then they flit to Adam and the TORO.

  “There’s no point in pretending that there isn’t one person they’ve been waiting to see,” Fernan says. “Guys, this is Teddie Leason. Teddie, this is the gang.”

  It’s not difficult to feel like a fool when at least one hundred sets of eyes are on you, waiting for you to do something spectacular. They’ve heard stories- stories that perhaps have a nugget of truth in them, but have been altered, exaggerated, and embossed through re-tellings. I would laugh if I didn’t feel so self-conscious. Offering a brief wave, I turn my attention back to Rafe and Adam.

  The chapel is empty of furnishings. What pews had remained have been chopped for fire wood and piled in the centre of the room. Blankets, sleeping bags, and boxes of food line the entirety of the space, and guns a plenty litter every available space. The light that illuminated the stained glass emits from candle sconces. The air smells of mould and body odour.

  “What’s with the TORO?” A man with no neck and a permanent scowl on his face steps a little closer to Adam, trying to intimidate him. Adam gives him the once over before turning away from him. This angers the man and he presses his chest up against him. “I said, what’s with the TORO? Those bloody uniforms are insulting. His minions, are you?”

  Adam thrusts a shoulder into him, the force is enough to make him stumble backward. The rest of the E.N.C instinctively prepare for a fight. “We’re no one’s minions,” Adam growls through his teeth. “We wear these uniforms so dumb shits like you know who not to piss off.”

  The other two TORO don’t look to back Adam up. If anything, that would undermine him. They simply glare menacingly at the E.N.C members, hands on weapons and lips curled up in grimaces.

  “So, you’re her lap dogs, then?” the idiot continues, attempting to maintain face with his peers. His finger jab in my direction makes my fists itch.

  Fernan steps in between Adam and the man. “Do you know who this is, Cal?” she snaps. “Before any more of you embarrass yourselves further, this is Adam Lovick.” Adam removes his VIDI Screen, and the man steps away in shock. “You are just as much of a legend around here as she is,” Fernan tells Adam.

  Cal cows a little, but holds out his hand. “My apologies. The name’s Callum Roman, Aerokin. Ex-marine.”

  Adam shakes his hand without a second thought. “Legends? I don’t get it. We fought against Woodman and his men. Teddie killed him.”

  Fernan shrugs. “Minor details. Not all of us saw Isaac Woodman as our leader because none of us knew of him until his broadcast. Woodman may have set the ball rolling for us, but none are loyal to him. Yes, I believe he did us a favour, despite his short-sightedness, but he’s dead, and we’re not. The E.N.C are loyal to those who oppose the regime as it stands. Those who have fought and suffered for the cause. We all saw the footage of what Towley did to Teddie, and yet, she is still here and ready to fight some more. That matters.”

  “It does,” Rafe agrees. “That is why her existence needs to remain a secret from Towley until the time is right. Teddie is willing to play her part, and we owe it to her to use her name wisely.”

  “Our thoughts exactly.” Fernan says to me. “You should be able to haunt that man, terrorise him with the very memory of you. That’s why it shall be your name whispered when we take the detention centres. We can plant the seed that will grow and spread and keep him awake at night. A sighting here and a rumour there is all it will take. Lorrell, show them what you have been working on,” Fernan calls across the room.

  A middle-aged woman with a plump face and bright, red cheeks gets up from her seat at the computers. She wears a frumpy, floral dress and two pairs of glasses: one pair perch on her head, the other on her nose. Both pairs are attached to neon string. She struggles with a pile of papers, dropping some as she hurries over.

  “Lorrell Palace is the best Tech in the country,” Fernan states.

  “We have a Tech who’d disagree,”
Adam says, offering Lorrell a smile.

  She blushes and pushes her glasses up her nose whilst balancing the papers on her knee. “Is that the Tech who sent the D.N.A profile?” she asks. Her voice is the meekest I have ever heard. “He is extremely skilled.”

  “No one beats my girl,” Cal says, wrapping an arm around Lorrell and kissing her.

  She blushes like a tomato and straightens her cardigan. I’d have never put the gentile looking woman in front of me with brutish, hard-headed Cal. Wonders never cease, and who the hell am I to judge?

  Adam takes a slip of paper from the top of the pile, then flashes it in my direction. There’s a large image of a teddy bear’s face in the middle of the sheet.

  “They’re stickers,” Fernan interrupts. “We were toying with a slogan of some sort, but the image says it all.”

  My amusement is hard to hide. “And what do you intend to do with them?”

  “Leave them as a warning or a calling card, whatever you want to call it.”

  Rafe examines the sticker, the edges of his lips curling up in a smirk. “I like it. These must be left wherever we go, anything we claim, even if Teddie wasn’t there. This will do more, stir more, than us out right saying that Teddie is still alive.”

  Adam hands the sticker to Cooper and Jude to look at. “You said you have something that might interest me?”

  Fernan gestures for us to follow her and Lorrell. She leans heavier on her cane now, and her aura is hard to absorb as it is pulsing with pain. People greet us and shake our hands as we pass. A few know Bo personally, so she stops to make brief conversation.

  Lorrell shifts wires and papers from a chair and silently offers it to Fernan. The offer is refused, even though I see the longing in Fernan’s eyes. She doesn’t appear the type to suffer weakness well.

  Lorrell chews on her necklace as she brings images up on the various screens: a black aircraft shaped like an arrowhead. It is streamline and looks high-tech. I’ve seen one before.

  “That’s a stealth plane,” Cooper says. “It’s identical to the one Towley took us in, Teds.”