The Legion

by Melissa Delport

  “Where is my father now?” The question brings me up short. Jonathan had died while Aidan was being held captive by Eric. He had never learned of his father’s death. Telling him now, when he doesn’t even remember who he is, seems wrong. Jonathan died saving our son, he deserves to be properly mourned.

  “He’s in the Rebeldom,” I lie smoothly, “although I am not entirely sure of his whereabouts at the moment.” He seems to accept this.

  “So, your mother and my father, were they . . .” he looks at me awkwardly, and I smile, despite myself.

  “No, they were only ever friends. Very good friends.”

  “And you and me?” he asks, looking more uncomfortable than ever.

  “We were best friends,” I begin, picking up a piece of bark and breaking it into tiny pieces. “In fact, you were my only friend.”

  “Did we ever . . .” he lets the question hang, coughing slightly to mask his embarrassment. It is such an Aidan thing to do. I drop the piece of bark, tired now of the whole situation. Drawing in a deep breath, I sit up straighter, looking him right in the eyes.

  “We have a son, Aidan. His name is Alex. He’s five years old. I was Gifted at twenty, and then we were together for two years. I left you when Alex was a year old.”

  “Why?” he narrows his eyes.

  “To marry Eric Dane. I made a sacrifice that I believed was worth while. When Eric discovered that I was working against him, I fled into the Rebeldom, joined forces with the Legion and plotted to bring down his rule. But things went wrong. He kidnapped you. Obviously he gave you the ability to heal, and then, when I came to rescue you, he killed you. In front of me.” I swallow back the lump that has formed in my throat and he looks slightly nauseous himself. “As it turns out,” I sigh, “you weren’t dead.” I stand suddenly, coming around the fire to kneel before him.

  “Do you mind?” I ask, pointing at the hem of his T-shirt. Understanding dawns on his face and he blinks twice before answering.

  “Um . . . no, sure. Go ahead.” I can feel his body stiffen as I slowly pull up his shirt. Not a scar marks the spot where Nina shot him. Two bullets hit Aidan in the chest, very close to the heart, but his bronze skin is smooth and flawless. Mindlessly, I lift my hand and rub it over the smooth skin, replaying that awful moment in my head. My hand rises and falls slightly in time with his breathing.

  “You got this one falling off some old scaffolding near the Nichols Arboretum,” I murmur, running my fingers over a small, V-shaped scar on the right of his flat stomach, a few inches above his hipbone. “You were eight.” When I finally look up, he is regarding me seriously, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry,” I stammer, remembering myself and dropping his shirt back down. I return to my place across the fire, feeling embarrassed.

  “So, was it worth it?” he asks eventually, but I do not comprehend the question.

  “Was it worth it?” he repeats. “You said that leaving was a sacrifice that you thought was worth it. Was it?” His eyebrows are raised in genuine question and his voice sounds strained. Clenching my jaw in an agonising effort not to break down, I shake my head hurriedly.

  “No,” I answer, my lips trembling with the effort of trying to keep my emotions in check. “It wasn’t. Not for one minute of one single day.”

  We sit in silence for a few minutes and then he comes across to sit beside to me.

  “Look,” he begins, his voice more gentle than before, “I’m sorry. It’s obvious that we have a history, I can see that you really care about me and I’m grateful. But I don’t know you. Adam and the Ordinary, they’re my family now, my priority. They saved my life. They save lives every day.”

  “I’m glad that they were there for you.” I mean it.

  “You and the Southerner,” he begins tentatively, not wanting to overstep his boundaries, “you seem happy?” He sounds relieved, as though he is being let off the hook.

  “We are,” I smile, thinking of Reed.

  “Well, maybe it all worked out for the best then. Maybe this happened for a reason. I want my memory back, more than anything, but I don’t think it’s going to change anything between us, either way. I don’t feel anything for you. Surely if we meant that much to each other, I would feel something?” I wince at his brutal honesty and he looks dismayed. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he stumbles over his words and then abruptly stops speaking. When he starts again, he sounds more confident, more sure of himself.

  “Look, I’d really like for us to be friends. I have a lot to learn about my life, and you obviously played a very big role in my past. Can we be friends? I’m a pretty cool guy, once you get to know me.” He waggles his eyebrows encouragingly and I laugh out loud.

  “Yeah, Aidan, sure. We can be friends. I’d like that.”

  “Deal,” he extends his hand, a grin breaking across his handsome face.

  “Deal,” I nod, taking his hand and shaking it.

  “So, you guys are pretty impressive from what I hear,” Aidan jokes when we get back to town. Reed and I are finishing packing the Discovery. The truck is further down the street, pulled into a side alley, as Loader makes a few last minute checks and changes the oil. Reed looks like he has been slapped in the face, completely disarmed and not sure how to handle the situation. Aidan joking with us as a couple is surreal, but I nudge Reed and he plays along.

  “How strong are you?” Aidan asks him.

  “He’s pretty strong,” I answer for Reed. “He’s the strongest person on the planet.”

  “Ah, so you admit it now,” Reed’s green eyes are sparkling.

  “I guess so.”

  “Well, she’s not wrong,” he turns to Aidan, “but she’s definitely the fastest.”

  “So when do we get to see you two in action?” Aidan is laughing when Adam runs up to us.

  “It might be sooner than you think.” He is looking grave. “A small convoy broke away from the rest during the night, possibly the trackers. They’re only a few miles away and they’re in NUSA-issued Humvees. You guys might be okay, but there’s no way our truck can outrun them.”

  Chapter 21

  We streak through the trees, Adam’s binoculars hanging from my neck and banging against my breastbone. When we get to the point where we can just make out the convoy, I raise them to my eyes.

  “How many vehicles?” Reed asks.

  “Three Humvees.” I squint through the lenses trying to make out the occupants, but there is too much dust and the sunlight reflecting off the glass makes it impossible to see inside the vehicles.

  “That truck must be a real heap of junk if it can’t outrun those,” he drawls. “They’re built for terrain, not speed.”

  “Yeah, well the truck isn’t built for either,” I reply. “Did you not notice how long it took us to get here?”

  “I had a lot on my mind,” he peers down at me and I quickly change the subject.

  “What’s the passenger capacity of each of those?”

  “Eight, but they didn’t get this far without provisions and fuel. That would take up a fair amount of space. I’m guessing four soldiers per car, five max.”

  “Between twelve and fifteen then,” I peer one last time through the binoculars and then I hand them to him. He takes a brief look.

  “They’re less than three miles off, we need to get ready.” Without any further discussion, we sprint back to the others.

  “I don’t think they’re going to pose a problem,” I announce, missing Adam’s astonished look.

  “We’re looking at anything up to fifteen,” I address only my Legion members, and Jethro, David, Tim and Morgan nod.

  “But there are only six of you,” Adam points out, unnecessarily.

  “Yes, we can count, thank you,” Reed replies rudely, rolling his eyes.

  “How can you be so confident?” he presses, and I turn to face him.<
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  “Because Adam, this is what we do.”

  “Yeah, and because we have them,” Tim jests, jerking his head at Reed and me.

  “Don’t be too cocksure there, big guy,” Reed cautions. “The last person that said that didn’t make it through the day.”

  “I suggest you get your people to hide, out of harm’s way,” I tell Adam. “And hurry!” I add, as I hear the faint roar of the powerful engines in the distance. The Ordinary scatter, vanishing like shadows into the surrounding buildings.

  “They are so freaky,” Tim quips, as we form a line in the middle of the street, right in the path of the three monstrous military vehicles approaching us.

  The Humvees advance in single file and creak to a halt about 20 yards from where we are standing. There is an interminable silence and then suddenly all the exterior doors of all three Humvees open in unison, and the NUSA convoy disembarks and walks purposefully towards us.

  I can hear Tim counting under his breath.

  “Care to revise your previous estimation?” I whisper to Reed, who just shrugs his broad shoulders, unfazed by the twenty men standing before us.

  They cross half the distance between us and the Humvees and then they stop, fanning out across the street. The man in the centre regards us warily before he calls out, his voice echoing down the deserted main road.

  “We’re looking for Rebecca Dane.” His eyes do not leave my face and it’s perfectly clear that he knows exactly who I am. I was NUSA’s First Lady for three years, he would have to be a fool not to recognise me.

  “Never heard of her,” Reed sounds indifferent, and I hear Tim’s chuckle further down the line.

  “Mrs Dane,” the soldier drops his charade and addresses me directly, “you need to come with us.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask politely.

  “We’re taking you back to the New United States, ma’am.”

  “And if I don’t want to go?” I taunt.

  “We’re authorised to use whatever force is necessary.” He lets the threat hang in the air.

  “Well, thank you for the offer, but I’m afraid I have to respectfully decline.” I smile sweetly.

  “Then I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.” He raises his hand and drops it towards us, the military signal for attack. The men charge at us and, as planned, we split up, heading in different directions and forcing them to break rank. Reed, Tim and Morgan go left and David, Jethro and I head right, a perfect balance of speed, strength and the Power of Three. I have to admire their precision as the NUSA soldiers split down the middle, ten men racing after each of our two groups.

  As they reach us David grabs a soldier, and Jethro darts forward and pulls another from the group. With each of my team engaged in a one-on-one fight, I turn my attention to the remaining eight and step forward, my arms out to my sides, to prevent them from moving past me and ganging up on the others. Two men try to speed past me and I grab them both, flinging them back into their teammates. Surprisingly, David is already back at my side, a small cut on his forehead the only sign of his tussle.

  “I’m impressed,” I comment drily.

  I sprint forward, grabbing another soldier by his shirt and, turning on the spot, I throw him bodily at David. The seven remaining men seize their opportunity to grab me from behind, six of them restraining me. The last man comes round to face me and punches me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. His next punch is higher and hits my cheek, splitting my lower lip. As he changes his position to hit me with his other hand, I lift both of my legs and kick forward, my feet making contact with his chest. He soars backwards in the air and lands on the ground a few yards away. Jethro is immediately upon him.

  The six men still restraining me hesitate, not wanting to lose their hold, but unable to inflict any damage. All their efforts are focused on immobilising me. Using this against them, I start to sway on the spot, pulling my arms from side to side, slowly at first, and then gradually gaining momentum. I hear their panicked voices behind me as they try to formulate a plan, but I focus all my energy on my core and the perpetual motion. I can feel their hands starting to slip and, as a group, their feet are sliding along the dusty gravel. It won’t be long before they lose their footing. I feel the sudden reduction in resistance as four of the men finally trip up, and I dart forward, dragging the remaining two with me. As I skid to a halt they shoot forward, tucking in their heads and rolling onto the soft grass just a short way from the kerb. I reach one before he has even come to a stop and grab him by the leg. I twirl on the spot, his body spinning through the air, and I let him go at exactly the right moment. He crashes into a birch tree, hitting it so hard that the tree snaps a third of the way down the trunk and starts to fall. I leap out of the way, but the soldier getting to his feet a few yards away is not so lucky. The massive birch lands directly on top of him, and I see his leg jerking underneath it.

  I turn back to the street. The four men facing me include the leader who had addressed us in the street. His face is a mask of unadulterated fury.

  “Still want to take me for that ride, Lieutenant?” I taunt, wiping at my mouth with the back of my hand. I can hear the sounds of the struggle further down the street and I risk a glance at my friends. Morgan is battling one of the soldiers, but she seems to be in control. Her moves are coordinated and calculated, and she is dodging the man’s blows easily. Reed is duelling three men and Tim is nowhere to be seen. In a moment of panic, I scan the surrounding area, but it is empty. Then a howl of frustration rends the air and out of nowhere Tim comes streaking up the street, laughing his handsome blond head off. Two NUSA soldiers come panting after him and I see the cause for their frustration. No sooner have they reached him than he streaks back in the opposite direction, a never-ending game of cat and mouse that they can never hope to win. Tim isn’t even getting his hands dirty.

  In the brief moment that I am distracted, the four soldiers have moved closer, trying to surround me and come at me from all sides.

  “Do you really want to do this?” I sigh, infuriating their leader even more.

  “Whatever force is necessary,” he reiterates, through gritted teeth. “Take her, dead or alive.”

  I stand perfectly still, breathing slowly, keeping myself calm and focused, just as Kwan taught me. I am aware of every move they make, their advance is infinitely slow, every step bringing them closer and closer. The sounds of the battle nearby have ceased, and there is absolute silence as I wait patiently, doing nothing, until they are only an arm’s length away.

  Ready as I am ever going to be, I unleash my full force on the small group. I jump straight up into the air, my left leg coming straight up and connecting with the first soldier’s chin. In a split second, I jump again, sweeping my leg around and hearing the satisfied crunch as my boot makes contact with the second man’s cheek. As I land, I leap to the left and punch the third man in the stomach with my right hand, in the neck with my left and then in the face with my right, my arms pumping back and forth. They have not even landed one blow as I spin back to the right and, before he can even defend himself, I am behind the Lieutenant, my arm around his throat.

  “Dead or alive?” I hiss in his ear.

  “Go to hell,” he gasps with what little breath he has left and without another thought, I snap his neck, dropping his limp body to the ground.

  There is a slow clapping from the right and I turn to see Reed and the others standing nearby, watching.

  “Seriously?” I ask, looking at them. “You guys couldn’t help?”

  “I told them you had this,” Reed explains, and the others smile, looking far less contrite than they should.

  “How long were you guys just standing there, doing nothing?”

  “Not that long,” Reed winks at the others, and then bending down so that only I can hear, “just long enough to see those legs of yours at work.”

>   “And you!” I bellow at Tim. “What the hell was that?”

  “Just having a bit of fun,” he grins.

  “Everyone okay?” I ask, knowing that they are all fine.

  “Better than okay,” Tim is beaming. “Check out our new rides!” He scampers up the street towards the Humvees and David hastens after him.

  “I’d better just check they don’t break anything,” Jethro’s excuse is feeble as he, too, belts up the road to inspect the NUSA vehicles.

  “You did well out there,” I say to Morgan and she shrugs. “I’m sorry I haven’t had faith in you, Morgan. You’re a lot tougher than I’ve given you credit for.” She bites her lip, conflicting emotions on her young face. Then at Reed’s nod of encouragement, she forces the semblance of a smile.

  “Thank you.” With that, she turns on her heel and follows the others.

  “Progress,” I raise my brow and Reed laughs as he drops a kiss on my temple.

  “Rome wasn’t built in a day, Tiny.”

  Chapter 22

  “That was incredible!” Aidan’s is the first voice I hear, and we turn to see the Ordinary making their way towards us. They step over the bodies of the soldiers we have dispatched and crowd around us, all talking at once.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Adam is shaking his head in disbelief. “Twenty men,” he looks around, counting the bodies, as if he needs to double-check. “Twenty men, overcome in a matter of minutes.” They are all staring at us in awe. Never one to enjoy being the centre of attention, Reed points at the Humvees.

  “You think those are being tracked?”

  “Without a doubt.” It is Crackerjack who answers, and we all set off towards the three abandoned military vehicles.

  “Pity,” Reed’s dejected tone makes me smile.

  “You too?” I ask. “What is it with men and cars?”

  “Come on, Tiny, don’t tell me you wouldn’t like to take a spin in one of those.”