by Angela White
Cynthia nodded at Zack as he neared her on his rounds, thinking her mind had never been clearer. Her relationship with Jeremy had been as close as she could get to the Eagles, to Adrian. She hadn’t cared for Jeremy until he’d shown an interest in Samantha. Now, she didn’t want him at all.
Cynthia’s attention swung to the parking area, where Samantha was on duty with Doug. Like her or not, there was no denying that Samantha was worthy of the slot on Angela’s right. The choice she’d made to stay single for the greater good was important.
Angela and Marc, along with several camp members, stopped to view an outdoor training set, and Cynthia studied them with her newer, already more observant Eagles eyes.
Neil and Jeremy were holding their own, alone against the rest of their team as those men tried to get to the laughing hostage in the center–Charlie. It was uplifting to watch, to see the teenager happy, but it was also wonderful because the two men trying to ‘rescue’ him had spent months tearing their team apart.
As the set finished, Jeremy yanked Charlie clear, while Neil use kai to disarm and then disable the last ‘enemy’ standing. Neil and Jeremy were bruised and dirty, layered in side-by-side triumph, and Cynthia could feel the respect for Samantha going up among the Eagles. Sam had sacrificed her needs to make this happen, and the distress it was causing was obvious. The storm tracker’s hair was always slightly wild now, gaze the same, and there was a hardness to her body that said she needed a release.
Cynthia wondered who it would be with. Neil and Jeremy were mostly even, in the reporter’s opinion. Tall, lean, and arrogant, she thought. Wide shoulders dripped sweat into waistbands around lean hips and thick arms.
The camp members clapped and went on about their loading, except for two of the former slaves. Those two stayed, hoping for a chance to talk to any of Neil’s team.
Eagle groupies were following Adrian’s army now, hoping for any details, and the camp men congratulated them in envy that they likely wouldn’t have been able to handle if the situations had been reversed. All survivors were welcome in Safe Haven, but not just anyone could be an Eagle.
The two former slaves, Sheila and Grace, were staring at Neil and Jeremy as if they were gods, and Cynthia hid a grin when the two males walked over to talk to them.
The two women gushed from the first line, showering praise and admiration in amounts meant to send male egos through the clouds and prevent actual thinking.
On duty nearby, Samantha’s face hardened as she noticed her men being fawned over. Instead of a fight, Samantha turned her back to them.
Cynthia nodded her approval.
Sheila and Grace, encouraged by Samantha’s uncaring behavior, moved in for the kill. They invaded personal space openly, trying to stake a claim.
Neil and Jeremy both sent subtle glances in Samantha’s direction.
Disappointment immediately crept in and cut the conversation short. A minute after Samantha turned her back, Grace and Sheila were standing alone and the two males were walking dejectedly into the training tent. They had been trying to draw Samantha’s interest with jealousy, working together on it.
How sweet, Cynthia thought. And extremely naive. Samantha knew she didn’t have anything to be jealous about. Her men would come when she wanted them, even if they were in someone else’s arms when she sent the call.
3
Angela stood stiffly as the camp began to load into their vehicles. She was directing them, if needed. Make work, Angela thought, rolling her eyes. This was their last travel day for the next few, and she was glad. She had big plans for her team. Adrian would camp them outside Wichita (not so close as to be overrun if the city was occupied, of course) and she would hold her first meeting.
“How’s the shoulder?” Zack asked as he walked by on a patrol.
“Sore,” she replied truthfully. “How’s the nose?”
The trucker snorted, stopping. “Still stings when I blow too hard.”
Angela chuckled, but lightly, not about to destroy their friendship by wounding his pride. “Blame Marc. It was one of the first things he taught me.”
Zack didn’t respond. Marc was picking up the slack, and most of the Eagles were okay with it. Zack’s hesitance was only in that it made him continuously re-examine his loyalty to Kenn.
“When are they letting you back in?” he asked.
“Unknown yet,” she replied, slightly angrily.
“Plenty of ants to practice on in the meantime,” Zack tried to soothe.
Angela chuckled as expected. Moving targets were a more effective training tool, and Adrian had his Eagles using the ants to sharpen their knife-throwing skills. So far, she could hold her own while shooting with her left, but throwing was another story. Thanks to her bad aim, a number of ants were only minus a limb instead of their lives.
Zack stubbed out his stale smoke against the truck she was using for cover and a subtle leaning post. “I’ll be around.” Call if you need me.
Zack’s follow-up thought came through clearly, and she nodded, accepting the newest shift in their relationship without an obvious reaction. She scanned the mess as he left. Clear.
Zack was still serving as Kenn’s right hand, but it was obvious that he didn’t want the job anymore–which was bad for Kenn, who finally appeared to be coming around. Kenn was even supporting the females who were now proudly wearing their own rookie jackets.
That was another mark against Kenn, considering the trouble the other men were having with the situation. Women showing up for tryouts was a new thing, but to suddenly have them at every training session, every workout, at every duty post, was a severe disruption. Unlike Angela, who had wanted to win the males over, these rookies didn’t even try, didn’t care. They only wanted one thing–to make XO on the first female team in Adrian’s army.
4
Safe Haven began to roll out of the area a little after noon, a line of hope that stretched for two miles behind a red, white, and blue semi with a shotgun behind the seat.
Seth slid into the passenger side of his assigned vehicle, one of the last dozen to leave. “Good morning, Rebecca.”
The girl turned to glare at him, exposing deep bags beneath her bloodshot eyes. “It’s cloudy, my head hurts, and there’s a rock stuck in my shoe. Again. What’s so good about it?”
Seth blinked. For some reason he sometimes still expected cheerful little Becky. “Uh...not so much, I guess.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes, noting the ugly signs of their world gone by. It had been six months since the war. The dead were everywhere, bones showing through tattered cloth, and most horrors didn’t faze the Eagles anymore. Occasionally, however, a scene that was above the usual nastiness drew awareness and haunting pain. Such as the stack of rotting corpses that they were passing.
The bodies stretched the length of an entire cornfield. On the top, the decay was current, but the bottom layers of the structure were in tatters. What wasn’t dragged off by predators or shifted during the storms would fuse together and remain for hundreds of years. Six-feet by two-feet, it was the beginning of a skeleton wall.
“Why would someone do that?” Becky was horrified.
“Marking their turf, I think,” Seth said. “There are letters painted on some of the bottom skulls.”
In their revulsion, it was easy to miss the rotting frame of a house in the corn behind the human wall. Of the entire convoy, the animals and Angela were the only ones to feel the menace inside it. They shifted restlessly in response.
“I don’t understand men at all,” Becky grumbled.
Seth hated her being so changed. He tried humor. “How do you know it was done by a man?”
Becky couldn’t find an answer, and it made her angrier. That was something she didn’t have an outlet for, didn’t know what to do with.
When she guided the truck toward the wall and stopped, Seth frowned.
Becky took her mom’s ‘secret’ bottle of whiskey from the glove box and fash
ioned a quick Molotov cocktail with napkins.
Seth was impressed by the finished product. It was definitely usable.
When she held the small bomb out, waiting patiently, he grudgingly lit the tip for her. John wasn’t even allowing the girl a lighter right now.
Becky hit the wall, but the bodies didn’t want to burn. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the struggling flames were extinguished by the wind less than a minute after she’d thrown the cocktail.
Seth let her go for a minute, and then whistled lowly.
Becky’s head snapped up at the noise. “What?”
Seth motioned toward the wheel. “Let’s go–forward or back, but one of the two.”
Snarling, Becky hit the gas and forced them back into the line of vehicles. It shoved a Blazer over and earned a nasty gesture from the driver.
Seth figured if she were already angry, a little truth might not hurt as much. “It’s time to rejoin life, Rebecca, to start talking to people again.”
She didn’t answer, and Seth didn’t push yet. Right now, he was the only one she was letting stay close. The other guards and observers were often shouted at, sometimes even used for target practice–the ammunition whatever she found in reach. When Becky said leave me alone, the area cleared.
“I’ll think on it.”
“Good.” Seth gave the teenager an approving smile and directed them back to the oral lesson they’d begun yesterday. “Eagles rejoice in life. The best moments are to be clung to as a shield against the ugliness that comes with this job.”
Seth paused. “Do you understand what that means?”
Becky shrugged stiffly, following Kyle’s truck and ignoring his glare in the mirror at her. “It’s how I felt when I s-saw you over Rick’s shoulder.”
Seth watched a tear trail down her cheek and his heart shuddered.
Becky turned her head. John and Angela said so much crying was good–a release–but it felt awfully heavy to be healthy. Some nights the sobs were so hard that her stomach hurt the next day.
“That’s not exactly what it means,” Seth stated neutrally, trying not to absorb any more of her pain. It was making him worry over her too much, distracting him from his duties, and drawing fire. People were starting to think he was doing what Kyle was. Very few people knew of Becky’s rape, and it was easy to misunderstand the assistance Seth felt compelled to give. He wasn’t like Neil or Kyle.
“What did you mean?”
That’s why she responds to me, Seth thought. Because I let her lead.
“I mean good moments that are not a result of something bad. Watching kids play, petting animals, or even enjoying Kenn and Marc doing challenges at the shooting contest. Good things rarely happen outside our borders–you know that. Hold onto the light, and it will ease the hell inside your mind.
“You really think so?” Becky asked coolly.
“Yes.” Seth didn’t back down “I have my own horrors to handle. All of us do. I’ve just told you how we survive it, and I think it will help. Especially if you want to be an Eagle.
“After all this, I’d never go beyond Level One,” Becky scoffed. “And that won’t be enough.”
She’s growing up, Seth observed, hating Rick even more. “Not if you convince Adrian.”
Silence.
“Do you want to be an Eagle?”
“Yes.” Becky sighed unhappily. “And yes, I know he’ll give it to me as a reward and to ease his own guilt, but I don’t want it that way.”
Becky dug through her pockets to find a tissue, taking her attention and both hands away from the road–completely.
Seth hurriedly grabbed the wheel and straightened the truck, heart pounding. John was right to still have her under suicide watch.
“Did you take the pills John gave you?”
Silence.
“Be...Rebecca, you need to take the meds until you feel better.”
Becky glanced over at him with fury. “Pills won’t fix me. My life is over now.”
Instantly furious, Seth yanked the wheel and sent the truck into the muddy cornfield next to them. They hit a rut and flew up into the air, tilting dangerously.
Becky jerked the wheel from his hand, tugging lightly, and easily regained control. “What the hell, Seth?”
Seth leaned back in satisfaction. When he wanted to play with fire, he knew how to light a tightly twisted fuse. “Why stop us from rolling if your life is over?”
“Why are you with me all the time?” Becky glared, jarred from her depression by panic and anger. “Don’t you have other duties?”
“You are my duty!” Seth sent right back. “And I’m telling you it’s time to step up or Adrian really will overlook you.”
Silence...and then, “Angela.”
Seth frowned, eyes going to Marc’s Blazer far ahead of them in the line. “What about her?”
“It’s Angela’s team. She’ll pick it.”
“And you want a slot?”
“Oh, yeah, just any slot.” Becky’s snort was derisive.
Seth grinned, vaguely aware of how many vehicles had moved closer. Their driving incident had caused concern. “Well, you just showed you can handle an out-of-control vehicle. What would you like her to see next?”
Becky didn’t think she had much of a chance at getting the XO slot, but it was all she had to hope for now. The bright dreams she’d had for the future were gone, left on a charred mattress stained with her blood. She was rolling through the motions as best she could, but there was only pain in her heart. She didn’t feel anything else.
5
“That’s where we’re going,” Charlie muttered, feeling eyes on the convoy as they rolled. He sent the information of the spies directly to Adrian and was shocked when his mom didn’t react. Had he slipped that by without her noticing?
“No, boy.”
Charlie grinned, but just as fast as she sometimes did, fell back into that hazy place between then and now.
Angela closed her journal, staring at the battered billboard.
The island paradise being advertised was one that Marc had heard of, but only distantly.
“Pitcairn… That’s thousands of miles south,” he commented.
Driving, a quick glance told him that Angela wasn’t surprised, and Marc swallowed the denial that wanted to fly out. Where she went, he did.
“Are there other people there?” Angela asked.
“A few. One is a woman with scars all over her body. She’s the one he needs.”
Angela frowned, trying to decipher. Charlie had her glazed eyes from the precognitive trance that she was so familiar with, and it felt odd to be on this side of it “Who needs her?”
“Adrian,” Charlie answered slowly.
“Is she from the dream you told me about?” Marc asked.
“Yes. She will come to mean a great deal to all of us.”
“But especially Adrian?” Marc reinforced.
“Yes. He needs her more than he knows.”
Angela smothered her unwanted flare of heat. “Are we supposed to go find her?”
Charlie shook his head, laying back against the seat. “No. She’ll save us.”
Marc and Angela exchanged worried looks. To need saving meant danger was coming, and they’d already had more than their share.
“Do you know when?” Marc questioned.
“As we recover.” Charlie’s pitch began to normalize, breathing evening out. “With her comes salvation and blood.”
There was silence as they pulled into the main parking area of their campsite and waited for the Eagles to secure it. Marc never stopped scanning the cloudy, corn-littered farmland around them.
“All clear, folks,” Mitch gave the okay over the radio, after Adrian gave it to him.
“Charlie to the livestock truck.”
Billy’s voice didn’t sound encouraging.
Charlie sighed, hitting the button on his new rookie belt. “Copy.”
Charlie liked how the guards were eyein
g him closer, paying more attention to his moods, and even calling on him for things. It was what they did with his mom, and the feeling was outstanding. Except for calls like these. Calls like these were hard on him.
Marc was aware of Angela’s worry as they climbed from their vehicle, stretching and watching Charlie head into the lengthening shadows with a wolf at his heels. Marc wanted to offer her comfort, but wasn’t sure what would help.
Angela placed a light hand on his arm. “Together, right?”
Marc nodded. “You know it.”
“I turned in my tent.”
Marc grinned, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to her mouth. “I’ll get a larger one and set it up.”
Angela smiled against his lips and reluctantly moved away.
The setting sun glinted off her long braid, sending a jolt through Marc’s body, and he forced it down. He’d always been attracted to Angie, even when it was forbidden, but he didn’t think he had ever wanted her more than now.
Marc slowly moved toward the perimeter. At some point, he would get to help her conquer those fears, not Adrian.
6
As he got to the livestock truck, Charlie saw Matt in the shadows of the moldy trees. He motioned for him to come along, ignoring the nearby guard.
It took Matt a full minute to gain his feet.
Charlie grunted unhappily. When would Matt shape up? “Where’d you get the bottle?”
“Paid Zack’s boy to lift it from the supply truck.” Matt was drunk enough to not care who got in trouble. “Said it was for his old man.”
Matt pulled the bottle out, and Charlie snatched it.
“Knew you were ready for one!” Matt exclaimed.
Charlie’s arm drew back. “I should hit you with this!”
Matt flinched and fell clumsily back to the dirt.
Charlie tossed the mostly empty bottle to the concerned guard. “Tell Adrian where it came from.”
Billy pocketed it with an approving nod.