There are several solar and wind fields currently active, with more in the works. Still, with so few of us trained to build the panels and turbines required, it will take years to complete everything and get our settlement up and running at full capacity. These resources need to be utilized for making food, weapons, and testing. Hackers destroyed most computers, electronics, and any sliver of history before the Dust attack. Consequently, conserving any books and compiling alternative ways to learn to the best of our ability have been developed.
I stretch near the edge of the track as part of my warm-up. While pulling one arm up and behind my head to lengthen my triceps on my right arm, I overhear the guys talking about her. In my curiosity, I swivel to look toward the sound of drumming feet.
Damn, my heart literally skips a beat as my eyes behold her beautiful silhouette. Hammering down the asphalt, she is exquisite. Determined and focused as sweat drips down her alluring face and neck. Nearing the lane closest to me, she’s only a few feet away now, and I feel a strong pull to her like a physical force. Holding my stare, I’m dazed and captivated by her blue eyes. Continuing to check her out, I’m mesmerized by her dirty blonde hair swishing back and forth in her ponytail. Her wet hair clings to the side of her face. She’s sexy as hell and isn’t even trying to be.
As she runs past me, I envision her underneath a waterfall in a swimsuit with water rushing over her body. Shaking my head back to reality, I wonder how long she’s been here exercising to work up that much sweat. She’s at least gotten a few miles down because her cheeks are flushed, and her entire body is glistening in the early morning sun. For the life of me, I can’t break my freaking stare.
A sudden grasp of my shoulders startles me, and I twist my head to see it’s my brother Kage. He’s a few years older than me and a Superior Protector, meaning he’s extremely experienced in this field and is now one of the highest-ranked Protectors in charge of training.
He squeezes my traps as he lets out an exasperated huff, “Let it go, man. See that left hand? Besides, she’s turned down most of my men already.”
Noticing her finger, I cringe. “Ouch. No, I didn’t notice her left hand. Only those stunning eyes tying my stomach in knots.” I shrug him off dismissively. “I don’t really care about that twine because it’s only a gesture, not a permanent ‘off the market’ symbol.”
Now, I am not a guy that doesn’t respect when another male avows a female. But the way she held my gaze as she passed tells me that that’s not her entire story. There’s something more to her, and I need to find out what it is. I’m not entirely convinced that she is under contract. One way or another, I will find out.
3
Tova
The shadow I notice in the corner of my room moves swiftly to my side. As I lay petrified, the figure presses the blade to my neck.
Again, I awaken in terror. Grasping at my neck, I struggle for air. My hair clings to my wet face as I lay here in sheets that are drenched with my sweat. Forcing myself to push back the bile that creeps up my throat, I slowly roll over and turn on the lamp beside my bed. Searching every corner of my room, I find no one there. So, I coach myself into taking deep breaths in and out. Once my breathing is under control, I cautiously get ready to go for my morning run.
Now, this is better. Hallelujah, a completely testosterone free track all to myself. The sun is just barely breaking over the horizon, and I hum to myself a soft song as I loosen my rigid muscles before I get lost in a trance on the track. The beat of my feet frees my mind of the decisions I’m obligated to make in the next couple of weeks and of him, as I focus on my inner peace.
The only sounds are those of crickets, frogs, katydids, and other early morning critters. A shiver progresses up my spine as the cold air briskly kisses my exposed arms in my black, form-fitting, dri-fit tank top. Cotton tops are the worst. If I ever make the mistake to wear one when I run, it always absorbs my sweat and clings to all the worst bits, and leaves me feeling disgusting.
My mom, Shenandoah, but everyone calls her Shenan, is a seamstress, and I'm forever grateful for that fact. She’s developed some truly ingenious breathable fabrics used in clothing and some incredibly flexible running shoes. I can’t imagine running ten plus miles in stiff leather shoes. I understand they are functional for the farmers, but they would cause severe blisters and pain for training. On top of the desolate conditions we live in, a group of decision-makers determines what attire is practical. The Supreme Seniors only approve clothing that is deemed essential.
Breathing in the fresh mountain air, I scan the tree line just beyond the fence around the track and let out an audible sigh when I notice a herd of deer. There’s a precious fawn only barely able to walk; it still has white dots on its hide and remains close to its mom. Standing nearby, a hefty buck with about ten points on his antlers is surveying their surroundings. He's a protector, that’s for sure.
I wish all dads were. Mine certainly was not. He should have been my most fierce defender, yet he was anything but. I refer to him as my biological sperm donor or by his name, Cladec. He could best be described as a monster. Sure, he had a rough childhood, but who hasn’t lived through some hell in their lifetime. When he was thirteen, he and his dad were outside the Protection Wall hunting, and he witnessed his dad die from a brutal animal attack. The beast responsible for his death, a Sunclouded Leopard. Its brownish-black fur has uneven oval-shaped markings with dark edges, like a cloud’s shape, hence the name. Even if the creature is picturesque, it’s perilous.
After the attack, his mom became his everything. At eighteen, as is customary, he had to choose a profession. He decided to be a rancher. My mom’s family were also farmers, and the land he tended butted up to theirs. My mom was only fourteen years old when they met, but as time passed, they became friends, and he fell in love with her. They were avowed when he was twenty-four, and she was twenty. They were given one thousand acres and a gorgeous white farmhouse with a wraparound porch after the ceremony. The house was centered in various fields growing cotton, corn, hay, tea leaves, and various other crops. A few hundred acres were designated for the horses, the barn, and farm equipment.
When his mom got sick and perished from an illness that was not curable by the clinic, he became bitter toward the world. He sought out Moonshiners, people who make illegal alcohol, trying to drown out his sorrows. He became a violent drunk, physically, mentally, and molesting ensued.
When I was three years old, he put my mom in a coma by beating her so badly we didn’t know if she would live or die. She woke up from the coma three days later but wasn’t released from the clinic for another week. He appeared to be remorseful, so she didn’t separate from him. He was a master manipulator, but I think she was more afraid if she tried to leave him, he’d kill her, and I’d be left alone to his torment.
He abused me physically for as long as I can remember, but the sexual abuse held off until I was eight. That cruelty only happened when he was drunk. After beatings I cried myself to sleep, only to be awakened in the middle of the night by fondling sandpaper fingers on my private areas. Some nights I pretended I was asleep until the torture stopped to avoid a beating in addition to the assault. Other nights I’d wake up kicking and screaming, only to be met with a fist to my mouth and violent shakes by forceful hands to stop my screams. I’d choke on the coppery taste of blood pooling in my mouth from split lips as I silently cried. I’d beg to the heavens above that my tormentor would die and leave my mom and me alone forever. I never told my mom about any of the abuse, doing my best to hide my battered body.
When I was twelve, one of the Supreme Seniors noticed my bruised arms and a swollen black eye when I was at an educational facility. He said he’d been monitoring the suspected abuse for about six months, and when he saw it was getting worse, he intervened. He took me and my mom’s situation to the other Supreme Seniors. All seven unanimously voted to have him banished to the unprotected forests with the Savages and wild beasts. Knowing that he’d be
living with the same creatures that claimed his father’s life made the fury blaze in his unforgiving eyes. I remember the heat of his rage in his gaze as he glared at me, yet I did not waver. I straightened my spine and stood tall, not letting him know that I was terrified to death of him. I’m sure if he could have gotten his hands on me at that moment, I’d be six feet under, pushing up daisies.
Now that he’s banished, I’ve pushed those skeletons way down deep in my proverbial closet, but those demons taunt me still at night. The vision of his sadistic face haunts my dreams almost every night, stealing my rest. When I started running a year ago, I realized that if I got to the brink of exhaustion, I could sleep a handful of hours a night without dreaming.
In my efforts to chase that exhaustion, I run, or when the weather allows, I swim. There are several lakes in the foothills nearby that make for excellent swimming in the summer months. Once the freezing cold of the mountains melts away in the summer heat, I shift some of my effort toward swimming, always staying close to the roped-off beach areas that have been deemed suitable for lake activities. The Dust did away with most of the dangerous aquatic life, so the lake doesn’t pose much of a threat to swimmers, thankfully. However, I prefer the gym’s lap pool since it’s enclosed, cleaner, and usually warmer by a few degrees.
But running has become my passion. Once I found that it released a lot of my stress and could do it most days, I stuck to it even in light rain. I’m always pushing myself to go just a little bit longer, a little bit further.
Rumbling up ahead catches my attention as the group of Protectors approach the track and make no secret of their arrival.
Fan-flipping-tastic!
Man, there he is too. Well, I guess it’s a good thing I have just two more laps, and my ten miles are done. As I approach the entrance of the track, I recite my mantra to myself.
Just stay fixated on these next two laps. Don't look at them. Or him. You can do this.
I feel him stride up behind me, and I immediately tense in irritation.
Um, did he really just start jogging directly behind me? What the crap?
Okay, drive harder, sprint faster, only two more laps to go.
Run, don’t stop, don’t think.
Okay, half a lap down.
Now he is getting closer to being beside me. Toadstool!
Clearly, he’s not driven away by the ring I have on my left hand. I only peek over my shoulder in his direction to see if it is, in fact, him, knowing good and well it is.
Fart!
I make eye contact, and his eyes make my lungs fail me. Now it’s even harder to breathe.
Lengthening his stride, he’s now promptly running right beside me as I hear him say, “Hey.”
Glancing in his direction, barely audible, I mutter, “Hey to you too.”
Cheese and rice!
Looking at him causes my feet to tangle together, almost taking me down to the tarmac. Correcting my stride and doing my best to maintain my balance with flailing arms, I barely keep myself from face planting on the pavement. My cheeks heat, getting even redder while I’m still holding my breath. I see him out of the corner of my eye, reaching out to catch me or help me, he still asks, “Are you ok?”
Unable to look at him, I nod my head yes.
Shaking my head, I think, Well, that just happened.
Now, if I can manage to stay upright, maybe my dignity will remain somewhat intact.
I’m almost complete with my ten miles, and breath is my utmost necessity right now. Yelling to myself, I try to coach myself back from the brink of passing out.
You can’t faint. Get it together—Force air into your lungs.
Air slowly fills my lungs as I gently count to three on each inhale and exhale.
Alright, that’s better. Focusing on my burning lungs, I hear him snicker, and I find myself glaring at him.
What a freak. Is he laughing at me, because I almost fell running, that I can’t seem to catch any air? What’s his aim?
All I know is that I need to be done running like yesterday. Thank goodness for no more interruptions as I finish my last lap.
Finally, I’m finished for the day. Now I’ll just take my humiliated self and exit. There’s no way I’m stretching here. I’ll head to the gym and stretch there... away from prying eyes.
4
Pierce
Walking toward the track with the rest of the Protectors, I look up and grin as I see that girl is here and appears to, again, be taking out some frustration on the track. I can’t help imagining how she’d look running to me in one of my shirts, the fabric hanging off of her shoulder. Damn, she’s hot as hell.
Caught staring at her, I snap out of my daze and look down, around, anywhere but at her. She must have heard us approaching because she’s now glaring up at us.
There goes my heart pounding in my chest again.
Okay, after I stretch, I’m going to do this. I’ll just jog slightly behind her after she passes. Then I’ll catch up to her, not frighten her, and see if I can muster up the courage to actually speak this time.
Bending my left knee, I pull my foot back toward my rear, stretching my quadriceps. I hear jogging feet approaching. I wait for her to pass before I trot after her, attempting not to make my interest too obvious.
Psyching myself up, I repeat silently, Just do it, Pierce! Go for it! What are you waiting for?
It takes half a lap before I’m running in cadence alongside her. She peeks at me for a brief second, then turns her head back toward the pavement, never speaking to me, only breathing heavily. I examine her multiple times through my peripheral vision as we’re sprinting side by side, but she doesn’t break her concentration. She’s laser-focused.
I can’t help but wonder if she’s turned off by my arms, littered with scars. Pushing that thought down, I open my mouth and muster up the courage to say, “Hey!”
Glancing at me, she smiles and replies, “Hey to you, too.”
Damn, her eyes keep making my heart thump harder inside my chest. I know it’s not the run because I’ve only just begun.
Oh shit, she just tripped. I’m ready to catch her when she corrects her crossed feet. Watching as she rights herself, I peer at her face from the corner of my eye, noticing her cheeks redden even further. Damn, I don’t want her to be embarrassed, but I still have to ask if she’s ok. She doesn’t look at me, only nods in affirmation that she’s alright.
Kage is in the center of the track shouting at us, “You only know one hundred percent! Give all you’ve got unless you’re giving blood!” I chuckle under my breath at his idioms.
Shit, She’s scowling at me. I hope she doesn’t think I’m laughing at her.
Oh, hell, no. Her eyes are shooting daggers at me now. If looks could kill, I’d be a goner. Yeah, I’m going to scamper toward the middle lane, just in case. I probably don’t need to be within kicking distance; for all I know, she’ll trip me so I’ll crash and burn.
What the hell?
We’re nearing the exit on this second lap, and instead of continuing with me, she jets out the gate.
Great! So much for striking up a conversation.
Shit! Shit! Shit! Excellent job, Pierce. Can’t even run alongside her without making her glare at you. And now she can’t wait to get as far away from you as possible.
Well, at least she didn’t trip me because being banged up wouldn’t feel so great inside the arena as I train today. Mastering my ax throwing at various targets while avoiding being captured by the Superior Protectors, mostly dodging being apprehended by Kage, is what's on the docket today.
Kage’s stealth is uncanny and unmatched by any of the other Superior Protectors. He lives for the cat and mouse games. Once he has you in his sights, he unleashes his wrath by pelting you with rubber bullets until you’re on the ground writhing in pain.
He learned from the best, our dad. I can only hope to become as good as he is at his role as Protector. Our father, Elon, is one of the seven Supreme Seni
ors. During his time as a Protector, he strengthened the program by expanding intelligence, strength, and stealth training.
The arena we practice in is positioned on an open, somewhat flattened field at the highest altitude atop our mountain, forcing our lungs to max capacity. I must admit Kage’s efforts are successful in allowing us to obtain immaculate physical condition. After several months of training up here, it becomes effortless to gain more mileage while running on our only outdoor track every morning, building our endurance.
By the end of the two-year training required to become a Protector, we will be able to demonstrate mastery of our four chosen weapons, run at least thirteen miles in under two hours, stabilize and treat patients with moderate injuries, and ace written tests on history, paramedicine, and combat.
The seven Supreme Seniors evaluate all the tests and let each individual know whether they passed and will work in their designated field or if they will require another year of study. If it’s the latter, they’re allowed to continue to train for as many years as they wish or until picking another vocation.
Supreme Seniors are voted into place by the community. We hold elections every five years unless a senior passes away, then one is held immediately to fill the vacancy. Seniors do not have term limits on their service, but typically only serve ten to fifteen years. To be eligible to run for a Supreme Senior position, one must be a Superior in their field of expertise, be over the age of fifty, be honored and respected for their decisions and opinions, and voted into place by the people of Iron Mountain.
The typical life expectancy is eighty years in our society. Suppose they only serve ten years. In that case, they can retire and enjoy simple living, knowing that they gave their best in service to their community. However, not everyone who runs for Supreme Seniorship is voted in. That can make for some very disgruntled individuals, like my uncle Morton. My dad’s brother has always been jealous of him. Morton signed up to be a Protector, but he came up short on his scores and skills when testing time came.
Protecting Tova (Iron Mountain Book 1) Page 2
