by Angela White
The Private gave a jerky nod, mind reeling. He’d heard the rumors of the power the descendants held, but hadn’t believed them. With that command centering his thoughts, it was impossible to deny it any longer.
He slid to his knees. “I’m sorry.”
Marc turned away. “Do not kill another of my men and you have a place with me.”
Ivan slowly returned to his rounds, mind a confused daze.
A bit later, when the news of General Francis being assassinated came down the ranks, Ivan said he’d been on the other side of his post and hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.
He wasn’t sure exactly what it was that the government was fighting for, but the descendants were battling for their very right to live, and Ivan wasn’t killing any more of them.
When his shift ended four hours later, he quietly slipped into the shadows to use the bathroom and didn’t return.
2
“We can’t hold them!”
Men ducked the incoming whistle, hoping any of their group still alive did the same.
Boom!
The ground blew up near them, throwing two Shadow Riders into the air.
Marc’s voice echoed through their radios, “Retreat! Full retreat!”
Those who heard took off in relief. Those who didn’t hear the call saw their team pulling out and followed. In all the explosions and gunshots, sight was the only reliable communication, but even that was hard through the smoke and dust.
The soldiers had adapted, improvised. They were now clearing a path, blowing traps with civilian cars and other property before their main troops came through. It was forcing Marc’s men back faster than he could reset the plans, causing high numbers of causalities as he struggled to get everything in place before the battalion came in.
“Call it!” Marc ordered, waving at his men. “Full retreat. Meet at base Alpha.”
“It was a good fight, my brother,” Grendin said sadly.
“We’re not done,” Marc declared. “The majority of their losses will come in Arkansas. Move out!”
The Shadow Riders split up as the soldiers peppered them with fire, killing too many of them for Marc to recklessly run into the crossfire. He ducked behind a boulder the size of a car to reload, ignoring the sounds of boots crunching closer. They couldn’t hurt him now, at least not with slugs.
Marc lunged from his hiding place.
Stunned to find the Ghost so close, the five soldiers hesitated.
Marc didn’t. He killed them all. Only the last man fired at him. The soldier died in shocked confusion when his bullet bounced off Marc’s chest.
Marc snarled in triumph and power as he fled. His gifts had evolved, painfully, and he now produced a shield like Angela had. Fire didn’t even get through it. Marc was considered invincible by both his men and the enemy. He wasn’t, of course, and Kendle knew the weaknesses. She’d been insisting on having his food tested and preparing his kit herself. She knew that when you blocked the enemy in one way, they always came in through another route.
Marc joined the men on their horses, picking out Kendle on Thaddeus’s right. He leapt onto his animal without a word.
He led them southeast, away from the fighting, then began gradually doubling back toward Oklahoma. He wanted the soldiers to think the Mexicans were hiding the rebels, a lie that Sebastian was encouraging. He liked having the excuse to get his army involved.
Marc wasn’t worried. Sebastian was only a single future bullet. First, he would be used. If the soldiers thought the rebel support was mostly Mexican, south of 40, they would keep traveling through Oklahoma and meet thirty-seven pissed off Indian nations. It would slow the troops enough for Marc to get to the base and blow the roads. There would only be one usable Avenue of Approach that he would be removed when he and his men came through.
In the distance, the sounds of battling were receding and the invasive noise of troops once again marching became dominant.
Marc keyed his mic. “Do not lose hope, my friends. Your days of walking through my hell will be over soon. The Ghost has seen your deaths.”
Marc kneed his horse faster now that the bait was set. They’d made no secret of the fact that they were meeting at the Air Force Base. The soldiers would think that’s where Adrian and Angela were, as well. The next part of this massive plan would take place there.
“Open fire!”
Not expecting it, Marc grabbed Kendle’s arm and dragged them off the horse. He threw them into the water that lined their path and held her tight as she struggled. Above them, a fire team did what they were trained for. Slugs flew.
Marc let his lungs begin hurting before he let them come to the surface.
Kendle gasped in air and then she was under the water again and panicking blindly as more bullets slammed into the water around them.
Marc held her in a vise, hissing out pain as she raked her nails down his skin
It’s almost over! he shouted mentally. Wait!
Kendle couldn’t. The panic of being under the water was one she wouldn’t ever fully conquer and she fought harder.
Forced to surface or take other measures, Marc shoved his mouth to hers and blew.
Kendle gasped in both air and water as she panicked.
Marc shoved them for the surface, wishing the current were faster. He was certain the fire team was still up here, waiting for them.
Slugs came from Kendle’s first cough, drawing immediate fire.
Marc jerked them under the water again.
Kendle sagged after only seconds as Marc shoved them through the murky bottom, going back the way they’d come. As he swam, he brought up the shield.
Kendle slowly woke to find them inside Marc’s shield, hovering near the bottom of the muddy water. Fish and other marine life swam around them in panic.
“What the hell?”
Marc grinned arrogantly. “I evolved.”
Kendle’s face began collapsing into sad horror.
Marc stared, pride fading. “What?”
“Why are we so different?”
Her voice was a pathetic, echoing whisper that jerked on his heart. Marc gently pulled her closer and let her bury her face against his chest, but he answer. He didn’t have one.
3
Marc’s mental tactics were effective. The soldiers on the outside of the line and those bringing up the rear were as much his target as those in the front, and it made for collapsing lines when he attacked.
To counteract this, command sent down orders of executions for anyone leaving their assigned places. Because they chose to use a threat instead of a solution, it wasn’t helping them retain their numbers. What men the Ghost wasn’t killing, the harsh conditions were causing to go AWOL. Some of those were even joining the enemy and helping the rebels to spot weaknesses in government defenses.
It was chaos, but there was little that command could do to quiet the unease. Every night since Denver had ended with dead men on duty and soldiers not returning from their posts. Whole teams and even two platoons had been snatched in front of hundreds of men. The talk of rebellion among the ranks was growing. It didn’t matter that they were gaining ground or that the Shadow Riders were easy to kill when they got them out in the open. These soldiers didn’t like the mission or the orders anyway, but to have the Ghost talk to them on their own channels was almost too much. He sounded like a real leader, like a patriot, and many of the soldiers had been both before the war.
Now, they had been reduced to a no frills life of servitude that was on its way to crush out the hope of the few Americans who had managed to survive. It didn’t sit well with more than a few of these hard men. They fought and died while command stayed safe in the bunker. The reminder that they were expendable was the topic of lowly spoken conversations between team leaders who were thinking about trading sides. Some of these men were reported and dealt with, but the battalion had only a few rats, and the rumors and gossip continued.
Marc would have been thrille
d.
4
“Blow it! Blow it!”
Marc kicked his horse harder, feeling the others doing the same as the soldiers opened fire on them. They’d been trapped by a split force and barely been able to fight their way up to the cleared street.
Kablamm!
The road behind the riders disintegrated, taking a few of their own and a large group of the enemy with it.
“Do the reservoirs!” Marc ordered, shielding himself from the showering grit.
“Marc!”
Kendle’s shout went through him in a sharp flare of need. He saw that she had fallen in the mad crush of everyone trying to get down the road before it was blown or overrun. She was perched on the edge of a wooden fence.
Marc wheeled his exhausted mount against the mass of their fighters to get to her.
Kendle dropped heavily behind him, making the horse rear up.
“Easy…easy.” Marc manhandled it into obedience and got them racing for safety.
They made the entry into Little Rock Air Force Base with her clinging to him like a second skin.
The ground shook under the complex and around it, vibrating through the walls and floors in warning.
“Brace, folks,” the sound of Quinn calming people was music to Marc’s ringing ears.
“We might get a bit of recoil…”
Bamm!
The building felt like it had been hit by a bomb blast.
Kendle clutched Marc in confusion. She didn’t know about the two reservoirs rigged to blow and block the soldier’s coming attempt to pin them down.
Blamm!
The second explosion wasn’t as strong and Marc continued to the main office, noting what they’d accomplished while he was away fighting and buying them time.
Crates and barrels of supplies were already being invaded by the small army that had met up with him and Kendle after they’d come from the water. He’d waited until nightfall to move openly and his Shadow Riders had fallen in around them all through the wee hours. These were his hardest men, his closest bonds. He thought it was likely that if they survived, these fighters would be with him when he returned to Safe Haven.
“That’s it! Close us up!”
Quinn’s call was met with a loud echo that told Marc the men they had inside here right now were all they would have for this battle. No other groups were going to get through those soldiers.
Marc keyed his radio, “Perimeter groups move in. I repeat, move in and lock them down!”
Fresh gunshots echoed in the distance around the base from all sides, and Marc’s men yelled in angry delirium. Their hopes of those outer camps crushing the soldiers were unrealistic, but Marc didn’t stop their celebrations. They needed hope and he wouldn’t deny it, but inside, he already knew they would lose. The enemy would take over and use this as a command post to send out horrific attacks across what was left of the country unless he stopped them.
Marc entered the command room under the awed gazes of the second floor guards and leadership. It took him a minute to understand how many men were there. He’d left less than a dozen. There were now hundreds sitting, sleeping, washing, prepping weapons.
Marc heard Quinn’s approach and turned to him with approval thick in his voice. “You didn’t mention how much company you’d gotten in that last call.”
Quinn shook Marc’s hand as if he’d won a prize. “Thought you’d need the boost when you got here.”
Marc took a seat near the cluttered desks they had lined up. “Understatement. Give me a minute to tend her wound and then I want updates.”
Quinn reached for the first aid kit, but stopped when he felt the room hum with power. The light chatter disappeared into stunned respect.
Marc ran his glowing hand over Kendle’s arm, where she’d been grazed by a bullet. The wound healed as a tense silence filled the room.
Thaddeus didn’t understand and Kendle explained as Marc glanced at them, “They didn’t know the Ghost was like me.”
Those words drew concern from the Eagles. Marc had lied about not being like Angela, and who was the woman that clung to him, got his attention first, and acted like their boss?
Marc didn’t want to take the time for explanations. That’s why he’d done it openly. “Updates.”
Quinn gave them without leaving anything out, but the tone of warmth he’d greeted Marc with was gone.
Marc took in the information while repacking his kit from the barrels and pouches they had stored in the rear of the room. He left Kendle to fend for herself intentionally. Once they saw she was like Angela, they’d ask their questions and she would give answers. They wouldn’t care for them, though. Marc was ready to interfere if needed.
“Who the hell are you?”
Kendle’s expression darkened. “A nightmare. Bug off.”
She was surprised when Quinn’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t go away.
“You one of his strays or a threat to be handled later?” Quinn demanded, ready to be hurt to know that answer.
Kendle barked a laugh, impressed despite herself. She’d been expecting all weaklings in the Eagles that Marc spoke of so lovingly. Paul and Jax certainly hadn’t known much.
“I’m Kendle.”
Quinn held out a hand. “You’re the island woman Marc’s son told us about.”
Kendle blinked. “Son?”
Quinn began to suspect right then, but didn’t ask his questions. “Yes. You’re from Pitcairn?”
Kendle’s rage was suddenly gone. “Yes, and I’m anticipating going there again.”
“We’ll be along for that ride, I think” he commented, trying to find out how much she knew.
Kendle didn’t think that was such a bad idea as she saw the way he appraised her scars and reflected respect. Maybe some of these other Safe Haven men really were different.
“You ready for a meal?”
“If I have to.”
Quinn waved Shane over. “Hook her up with grub and gear, like we would Angela.”
Kendle winced at the love and loyalty in his voice, in the name. She’d never be able to compete with that.
Kendle’s heart began accepting right then that she would be Marc’s second choice. Any female who could inspire those feelings in these men would never settle for her man having a whore. Kendle wasn’t sure she could live as one anyway.
I’ll start separating myself from him after we leave here, she thought, giving Quinn a searching look. Maybe this one was lonely and needed a strong woman.
Try being on your own for a while, her demon suggested bravely. You might like it.
Kendle wasn’t sure. She only knew that the thought of being split from her Ghost was terrifying. She wasn’t sure if it was love. She thought maybe it was more like fear of being alone again with no one else inside her mind but this voice. She stayed quiet as the men around her made their plans and updated each other. The only time she broke out of her heavy thoughts was when that already hated name was spoken.
5
“You should call Angie, man. She needs the lift.”
Kendle felt Marc’s gaze swing to her and her heart thumped painfully. She didn’t want to listen to him exchange emotions with his first choice.
“No.”
Quinn tried again, using careful words. “There’s a lot going on in Safe Haven these days. A personal check-in would do good for our people, not just her.”
“You call them,” Marc ordered. “I need a shower.”
No one spoke when he left the room, but Kendle could feel their accusations. She quickly followed Marc from the room.
Marc let her join him in the locker room next to the showers. He took a seat on one of the dusty benches and let out a hard sigh. “We have to talk.”
Kendle perched on the bench across from him, trying to brace to be told to stay away once they reached his camp.
“The opposite, actually.”
Kendle stared in surprise. “I don’t understand. You love her. Why have m
e?”
Marc couldn’t refuse to answer, though it hurt. “She cares for someone else, too. And someday, she’ll leave me for him.”
Kendle took that in with a burning gut and a sickened heart. But she didn’t protest. Marc was her lifeline right now. She needed him.
“And I’ve needed you, as well,” he stated softly. “It will depend on her, when we get there.”
Kendle understood in one quick blast of insight. “You want me in case she’s with him now.”
Marc dropped his head to his hands. “Yes.”
Kendle was crushed by his pain. “She won’t.”
“You don’t know them.”
“I know you,” Kendle answered firmly. “She feels the same. You wouldn’t need someone who would betray you that way. She’ll be waiting.”
Kendle went to the door, more upset than he knew.
“And if not?” he asked reluctantly.
“Then I will be.”
Kendle left and Marc lay back on the bench, miserable in his success. He’d seen her appraise Quinn, but instead of encouraging it, he’d locked down his own claim.
“And I called Kenn a piece of shit,” Marc muttered, lids closing. “Guess we’re even now.”
6
Despite being inside a base, it didn’t change much for the Shadow Riders. The soldiers were still on their heels and the need to fight was prevalent. The feeling of being pinned in was one that few of them could ignore, though everyone joked as if they weren’t worried. The only time that facade broke was when a burst of gunfire or screams was particularly close. The fighting going on outside these barricaded walls was fierce. The enemy had broken through their lines near the northern reservoir, which had failed to kill the soldiers in the explosion. The water rush had gone around and even cleared them a path in. The perimeter men were still working on them all around the base, but it was clear that this shelter wasn’t going to last.
Ten hours after arriving, Marc once again had them working on that understated three attacks a day plan. It kept the soldiers off schedule, drowsy from lack of sleep, and allowed Marc to do damage in small, effective bursts. He estimated that they’d now killed more than five hundred soldiers. That would force them to gather more men from the bunker before going any further than here. It also meant they would send everything they had left this time. When they came, bullets would no longer be enough. Only magic would save Safe Haven at that point, and Marc hoped Adrian had a plan for getting the camp to accept it.