The Legion

by Melissa Delport

“I killed Eric,” I whisper, horrified.

  “Yes, you did,” he smiles evilly. “You made it so easy for me. All I had to do was enter the States and make sure that Joseph was instated. Now I control NUSA and I don’t have any intention of giving up that power.”

  The pieces of the puzzle are finally coming together. That’s why my father and Kenneth had entered the States without any guards. It wasn’t the General, it was the Vice-President all along.

  “Why don’t you just declare yourself?” I ask. “Why hide behind Hale?”

  “I prefer to remain in the shadows, for now,” he adds. “I have lost all contact with the Resistance and until I know what the Legion is up to, I don’t think it would be wise to expose myself.”

  “If you wanted to destroy the Legion, why didn’t you just have more of your men attack the Nevada headquarters? You know its location; why all the smoke and mirrors and sending Quinn out as a decoy?”

  “Quinn needed to believe he had escaped, so I made it possible for him to do so. I needed the Resistance to believe that my men had tracked him, so that they would not suspect that I had given them the location. A bit of fake blood and some dirty clothes and you all so misguidedly believed I was a hostage,” he chuckles.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” I say. “You could have destroyed the Legion, so why didn’t you?”

  “Because I no longer want to destroy your army,” he whines, as though explaining to a child. “You have made it impossible for me to create new soldiers, Miss Davis. It will take years to rebuild the laboratory and I don’t want to wait that long.”

  “So? What does that have to do with . . .” I realise now what it is that he wants. “You need our lab.” It makes perfect sense. With our equipment he could pick up where he left off; it would be as though the NUSA lab explosion never happened. Ours is now the only operational lab left. That’s not entirely true, my subconscious whispers, Kwan Lee and the Kellys are proof of this. There are people who have been Gifted who were not part of NUSA’s programme, nor did they get their abilities at our Vegas lab.

  Kenneth’s voice brings me back to the present. “Not just your lab,” he says, “I want everything. Your father, for his expertise; your son,” my blood runs cold, “for his DNA.” This makes terrifying sense. Alex is the only child to have inherited an ability, as far as Kenneth knows – he is unaware of Brooke’s existence. If anyone were to figure out how or why, it would be possible to raise an entire new race of super-soldiers without the high risk that the procedures carry.

  “You will never lay a finger on my son,” I growl menacingly.

  “Mason?” Kenneth turns to the younger man, sounding almost bored. Mason steps forward and plunges another blade into my left thigh. My howl of pain and rage echoes around the small cell.

  “Oh, and there’s one more thing,” Kenneth continues, as though nothing has happened, “I want your Legion, too.”

  They leave then, switching off the light as they go and I am plunged once more into darkness. Mason doesn’t remove the knives and the pain is excruciating, even the slightest movement is agony. I try to clear my mind so that I can sleep, but the pain makes it impossible. They return sooner than expected and I welcome the distraction.

  “What do you want from me?” I ask, for the first time initiating the conversation. I understand everything else; why he needs the lab, my dad, Alex’s DNA, even my army. More than two hundred ready-made soldiers will make him invincible, and if he has the Legion on his side, he wipes out any and all opposition. There will be no Resistance; no one to counter him, but that still doesn’t explain why I am here.

  “I want to know what the plan is,” he answers, “what the Legion is going to do now?”

  “There is no plan,” I sigh. “Blowing up the lab was our final desperate act. We cannot access the States.”

  “What have you been doing these past few months?” he asks sceptically.

  “We’ve been travelling,” I answer, sticking as close to the truth as possible so that he doesn’t see through the lies. “Searching for survivors, all over the country.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “Believe what you want, you crazy bastard,” I hiss. It is not unexpected, but it is the fourth time my nose has been broken since I arrived. Mason’s blow is at least twice as hard as Logan’s.

  “Very well,” Kenneth purses his lips, gazing down at me contemplatively. “Now, as to the reason that you’re here. It’s quite simple, really. I need you to convince the Legion to join me.”

  “What?” His answer is nothing that I would ever have expected.

  “We both know that they will never abandon the people they are protecting, unless,” he smiles conspiratorially, “the directive comes from you.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “They’re soldiers, Rebecca. They do as you say. So you are going to tell them to join me and you’re going to get your father and your son to comply with my research.”

  “What makes you think, even for one second, that I would ever do that?”

  “Because it will ensure that your precious soldiers will be safe.”

  “And what about the others? The people?”

  “They are not needed. They stay behind.”

  “So you want us to leave them unprotected?”

  “Yes. The fences serve a purpose. I’m not having thousands of primitives coming in here and disrupting the peace, planting ideas and spreading lies.”

  “It’s the truth you’re afraid of, not lies.”

  “Let’s agree to disagree,” he remarks lightly. “Now, are you going to cooperate or not?”

  “I’ll die first.”

  “Well, there is also that option.” He nods at Mason, and I flinch in anticipation of the blow, but nothing is forthcoming. Instead Mason leaves the room, only for a moment, returning with a heavy-duty chain coiled over his arm. As I watch, he loops it through a reinforced bracket mounted on the ceiling. I watch in horror, knowing exactly what is coming. The Vice-President leaves the room as Mason starts to unshackle me, obviously he is well aware that he would be my primary target if I managed to break free.

  Despite my pitiful state, I am still sure I can take Mason, and as he unties the final chain on my left arm I push him aside with as much strength as I can muster and speed towards the door. As I pull it towards me, it is slammed shut and I turn in horror. It took me only a second to reach the door, and Mason moved just as quickly. It seems that Nina Lee was not the only soldier with the Power of Three that NUSA created. I sigh, dropping my head in defeat. In my starved, weakened state there is no way I can take on a soldier who has all of my abilities. Mason seems to realise this and he grins maliciously as he jerks me bodily across the room and wraps the heavy-duty chain around my wrists.

  I brace myself as he pulls on the long end of the chain and I am hoisted into the air, my feet at least six inches off the ground. Mason secures the chain to another bracket on the wall, and then moves to the door, opening it and speaking in calm, quiet tones. The pain in my arms is only mild, but I know that if they leave me hanging like this it is going to get much, much worse. My legs are bleeding only slightly, but consistently. My healing ability is counteracting ordinary blood loss, but the actual wounds cannot heal as long as the blades are embedded in my skin and the pain is excruciating.

  Kenneth Williams walks confidently back into the cell, his gaze moving from one end of the chain to the other. Seeming satisfied that I am suitably restrained, he turns the chair and takes a seat, one leg crossed over the other. Mason comes to stand behind me, just out of sight.

  “Now, Miss Davis, are you going to instruct your soldiers to join the NUSA army or not?” I pretend to give this some serious thought and then I shake my head.

  “Not.” The blow to my kidneys is unbearable and I sag weakly, trying to catch my breath. The s
hackles pull excruciatingly at my wrists as I hang limply, unable to tense my arms and take some of the tension from the chains.

  “Rebecca,” Kenneth rises from the chair and walks slowly around the room, “I’m offering you a good life. You can be with Aidan and your son, you can live comfortably within the safety of the States. Think about it: electricity, running water, good food. Your Legion will be safe. I’ll even give you a position in my forces; you will command my army. You’ve certainly proved yourself up to the task, and I will not harm your son. All I want is to test his DNA.”

  “You want to use him as a lab rat,” I growl through clenched teeth. My vision is starting to blur and I can feel the swelling in my lower back, Mason’s blow has damaged my kidney. Worryingly, the tingling feels less intense than usual.

  “A very comfortable lab rat,” he corrects, coming to stand in front of me.

  “What about our people? What about the others? I can’t just abandon them.”

  “They are not your concern.” The underlying message is clear: our community will be abandoned or destroyed. It doesn’t really matter; without the Legion to protect and provide supplies, the chances are that they would not survive anyway. Without a thought to the consequences, I spit in the Vice-President’s face.

  He gazes up at me disbelievingly for a second and then quickly composes himself, calmly pulling a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his face. Suddenly, without warning, he grabs the knife in my right thigh and twists it savagely, tearing through flesh and bone. I scream on and on and then, mercifully, he pulls the blade from my flesh with an awful squelching noise.

  “I am offering you the world on a platter, you ungrateful bitch,” he snarls, raising the knife and placing the wicked point at the base of my neck, just between my collarbones.

  “Why don’t you just kill me?” I ask, hoping for the first time that he will. I cannot take much more of this torture.

  He pierces my flesh and I feel a trickle of blood run between my breasts, a small stain showing through my filthy white vest. Pushing slightly harder, he draws the knife down to my breastbone, slicing a deep gash about four inches long. I gasp in pain, willing myself to pass out – it would be a welcome reprieve. Kenneth calmly wipes the blade down with the handkerchief and when he looks up again, there is no remorse in his cold eyes.

  “If you don’t agree, I’m going to track down your father, your son, your lover,” he states emotionlessly, “everyone you have ever cared about, and I am going to cause them more pain than you could ever imagine.”

  Ignoring the terror that is threatening to overwhelm me, I grin maliciously. “I’m going to kill you, Kenneth. Mark my words, I’m going to kill you.” I barely feel the second blow to the other side of my lower back. Mason moves around to stand beside Kenneth.

  “You too,” I add triumphantly. “You’re going to die, Mason. You have my word on that.”

  Quick as a flash, my worst nightmare comes true, Mason steps forward and punches me in the abdomen, so hard that I cannot breathe. I feel an incredible shooting pain and something tearing inside me. I hang there, gasping for breath and, as I watch, Kenneth calmly plunges the knife back into my thigh, an inch below the first wound. There is a look of pure venom on his face. As I stare into his eyes I see death reflected there and I close my own. There is no hope. I feel a faint trickle between my legs and tears well up in my eyes, spilling over and coursing silently down my face.

  Suddenly, as if in answer to my prayers, an alarm blares out through the building and Kenneth turns to Mason, yelling something I cannot hear over the sirens. I can hear the sounds of commotion beyond the door and I struggle against the exhaustion and pain to keep my head up, trying to figure out what is going on. Surprisingly, I do not feel anything – I am numb, physically and emotionally.

  “You’re going to die,” I whisper to the two men, even though I know they cannot hear me.

  The cramping in my lower abdomen is intensifying and the warm wetness between my legs is impossible to ignore. As I gaze down I see the dark stain on my jeans merging with the existing patches where the knives are impaled in my thighs. Kenneth and Mason flee from the room, for once forgetting to switch off the light and I simply hang there, helpless, watching my life’s blood pour from my body.

  It feels like forever when I finally hear the sounds of fighting outside the door. When it is kicked open I choke out a hysterical sob, my face crumpling. Reed’s face is terrifying as he catches sight of me and as I watch, a NUSA soldier grabs him from behind, trying to pull him out of the room. Reed turns and without a moment’s hesitation, he grabs the man by the neck and rips out his throat. Literally. He crosses the room and, cursing under his breath, he unfastens the chains binding my hands, catching me as I drop to the floor. He lays me gently on the ground, his eyes taking in the damage.

  “Hold on to me, Tiny,” his voice, in contrast to the murder in his eyes, is infinitely gentle. I grip his shoulders, bracing myself as he pulls the knives from my legs, and then I slump back to the ground. I cannot find the will to move and even if I could, my body is physically unable to. Reed quickly checks the rest of me, and then his gaze falls on the blood pooling on the floor between my legs. He squeezes his eyes shut.

  “No!” The pain in that one little word is soul-destroying and I want to comfort him, but I can’t move.

  “We have to get out of here . . . Oh my God!” Kwan’s words die on his lips as he catches sight of my broken body. I need to warn them about Mason. I have no idea where he is, but he is lethal. A large form bursts through the door, knocking Kwan aside, and Reed rises to meet him, his face a mask of pure unadulterated fury. Thankfully, it is Logan, who is strong, but nowhere near as deadly as Mason. Reed emits a snarl of rage as he launches himself at this new threat, tearing into Logan as though he is a paper-doll. It is all over in a few seconds by which time Kwan has made his way to my side.

  “You’re going to be okay,” he murmurs, but I can hear the uncertainty in his voice. Reed steps over me, scooping me up in his arms.

  “We have to go now,” Kwan insists urgently, “or we’ll never fight our way out,” he speaks quietly, trying to calm the bloodlust and vengeance that is radiating from Reed’s tensed body. “We have to run, Reed, she hasn’t got much time.” He takes him by the shoulders and forces eye contact. Slowly, as though coming out of a trance, Reed nods. I cannot keep my eyes open a second longer and I go limp in his arms.

  “Stay with me!” Reed yells shaking my lifeless body. I try to open my eyes but they are too heavy.

  REED

  Rebecca is so pale she looks like death. Not in the figurative sense, in the very real, terrifying sense.

  “Why isn’t she healing?” I ask Henry, who is bending over her.

  “Too much trauma; dehydration, starvation, there’s only so much a person can take. Even one with her remarkable abilities.” He takes a deep breath as if he wants to say something more, but instead he falls ominously silent.

  If only I had got to her sooner. When Kwan and Michael arrived in Georgia looking for me, I was already deliberating coming back. I can’t stand being away from her, it’s almost painful. I can’t believe I wasn’t there when they attacked the headquarters; that the others let her go. My anger threatens to spill over again and I choke it back.

  My gaze falls on the bloodied clothing that Henry removed only an hour ago. I haven’t been able to ask the question yet, but I need to know.

  “Henry, the baby . . .”

  “She lost the baby, Reed. I’m so sorry but there was nothing I could do.” He hasn’t even finished his sentence when I slam my fist into the brick wall, breaking a few knuckles. I barely feel it. Henry told me about the baby as we were leaving for Chicago. The news that Rebecca was pregnant drove me half-mad. Kwan and I had reached her as quickly as was humanly possible, using all our Gifted speed. The urgency to get to her was the only t
hing that had stopped me murdering every NUSA soldier we came across as we vaulted the fences and sped through the States. It was obvious she would be at Cook County; it is the only secure facility they have left. I killed at least fifty men at the prison when they tried to stand in my way. I can barely remember any of it, but the look on Kwan’s face will be hard to forget. He looked at me as though I was some kind of animal. I suppose, in retrospect, overcoming that number of people so quickly should be impossible. The barbaric, savage way that I attacked those men is nothing to what I will do to the people who physically did this to her. I slam my fist into the wall again.

  “Reed, calm down.” Jeffrey Davis’s eyes are shining with sympathy and his own ill-disguised fear. I turn back to Rebecca, barely able to speak.

  “Is she going to . . .” I can hear the broken uncertainty in my own voice and I hate it. I can’t lose her, I can’t. My hatred of NUSA and the men who did this to her is growing, spreading to every fibre of my being; a dark, festering blackness.

  “I can’t say,” Henry answers honestly. “They starved her. Ten days without food and very little water. And she’s lost so much blood . . .” he trails off, obviously not wanting to incite me any further. “Her kidneys are damaged too, there’s blood in her urine.” My howl of despair is interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching.

  “Oh my God!” Aidan’s horror is palpable. “Rebecca!” He throws himself down beside her, grabbing at her hand and kissing it frantically. There is a moment of absolute silence and then I take two angry steps forward and pull him off her.

  “Get off her!” I roar and there is a brief struggle as everyone tries to intervene. I exercise every ounce of restraint I have not to take action. I cannot hurt these people. They are important to her.

  “You!” Aidan yells suddenly. “You did this, you son of a bitch! You left her when she needed you most!” This strikes a nerve because he is right. This is my fault. What he says next, however, tests my restraint.

  “You’re a dirty low-life, McCoy! You knew all about us and you still got involved with her!”