Waxenby put his hand on my arm as I exited the car. “Look, I don’t like this.” Worry covered his face.
“It’s my ass getting kicked, so I’m not too pleased either.” I tried to keep the smile on my face.
“Thirty minutes and then we are coming for you both,” he said, scanning back and forth between us. “Good luck.”
He let go of my arm. I closed the door, and they drove off, leaving Jon and me a good ten-minute walk through the trees to where the camp was situated.
I turned to Jon. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. I never meant to put Wendi in harm’s way; I wanted her to be my girlfriend. No wonder Dad had kept us away from the public view. Norms such as Brunner and his crew would hurt anyone who got in their way.
Jon frowned, but grudgingly nodded. “Tommy, I told Wendi to stay away from you, but for all of that, you’re a good guy. I appreciate you sticking with me.”
I wish I felt brave. Actually, I swung between throwing up and wetting my pants. This wouldn’t be a Mom-approved course of action, but how could I chance he would really hurt Wendi? My dad would have waded in to stop Brunner, and I wasn’t going to let him down. Not for the first time, I wished he were here to help.
“Okay, I guess we’ll be twins in a few minutes.” Nothing like gallows humor to brighten the day.
The forest crept toward darkness as we walked. The sun receded as the day wore on; shadows lengthening as we moved closer to our target. The trail leading to the camp became harder to make out. Tripping became more of an issue as roots grabbed my ankles.
As the forest thinned, I heard a shriek from ahead. Without thinking, I dashed into the clearing. Wendi was tied to a post in the center of camp. Brunner’s knife flashed in the late day sun. I screamed something incoherent and charged, all thought of a peaceful, placating entry thrown to the wind.
I didn’t make it past the last row of trees. Something snatched my legs from under me. I face planted like a skateboarder on a bad halfpipe run. Blows rained down on me when I tried to get to my feet. I managed to get to my hands and knees before a blow to the back of the head turned off the lights.
The constant throb of my head was what I noticed first. Next was that my shoulders burned from holding the weight of my body. I counted myself lucky my healing collarbone hadn’t cracked under the stress. The rope cut into the flesh on both wrists, my arms extended to either side. My head hung forward from being out, so I just left it there.
I wanted to look around, but my eyes wouldn’t cooperate at the moment. I thought back to my lessons with Blaze, but he hadn’t taught me how to get out of this one.
“Brunner, you got what you want.” I heard Jon’s voice from in front of me. “I brought Ward. You promised me Wendi in return. She didn’t do anything to you.”
“Listen, Slag.” Brunner would be having a fit because Jon stood a good three inches taller than him. He liked his victims smaller than he was. “I don’t owe you nuthin’. Get out of here before I lose my temper.”
“Ward for Wendi is what we agreed to,” Jon said, his voice rising in anger. “I kept my…”
A sharp crack resounded through the clearing. I got one eye open to see Clint standing over Jon’s prone form. Clint had a shocked look, holding the baseball bat like it was a snake. “Chuck, I think I killed ‘im.”
“We’re gonna kill ‘em both, so you got a head start is all,” Brunner said with a caustic laugh. “By tomorra these two will be dead, and I got me a new girl.”
Ryder laughed from the stump he lounged on. Brunner’s beat-up truck was parked by the water. They must have come in from a different direction. Without moving my head, I pushed through the daze to get a read on the situation.
Wendi stood twenty feet across from me, still tied to the post, and her face had a good size bruise. Her blouse had been torn about halfway down her chest, the fabric ragged from the violent attempt to remove it. I fought to keep still and silently vowed to kill Brunner.
A fire pit made of old concrete blocks and part of an oil drum sat between us. I must have lost focus for a moment because suddenly Clint stood on the left, the bat on the ground. He stared at Jon as Ryder dragged him to another tree and chained him to it. Jon groaned as he slumped against the tree. At least he wasn’t dead.
A surge of hope flooded through my addled brain. Waxenby should be coming anytime. Once he got here, this would all be over.
I kept my head down, playing possum, waiting out the half an hour until the cavalry would emerge from the trees and save the day. Eventually, I heard a branch break from the direction of the path. Brunner jumped to his feet, his face going beet red. I resisted the urge to laugh; he would get his.
“Just how inept are you three?”
I flinched. It wasn’t Waxenby; that was Powell’s voice. I didn’t dare move and let them know I was awake. Abby and Marcel moved into view, their hands bound with zip ties behind them. A moment later, Powell entered my view, Waxenby’s body over one shoulder.
“I didn’t realize Waxenby here had any fight left in him,” Powell said sounding mildly impressed. Waxenby landed with a thump like last week’s garbage on the ground by the fire pit. Powell’s left eye was swollen and starting to turn color. Way to go, Commander Gravity.
“See boys, that’s why these Slags are so dangerous.” He spat on Waxenby. “Even the meek ones can catch you off guard.”
Ryder shoved Marcel over to the tree next to Jon and tied him in place, jamming a burlap bag over his head. Jon still didn’t look so hot, his head hung forward, blood dripping into his lap. He needed a doctor yesterday.
Clint didn’t have it so easy. He went to push Abby, and she kicked him square in the crotch. Squealing in pain, Clint grabbed himself as he fell to the ground in a fetal position. He vomited on the ground, crying the whole time.
Brunner jumped at the chance to hit her, backhanding Abby across the face. Instead of stopping her, she blasted him with a vicious head butt. Blood gushed from his already bruised nose. His hands flew to his ruined nose, cursing loudly. He wasn’t getting any better looking with all the damage his face had been taking.
Abby turned to run, but Powell stood in her way, his pistol pointed at her. His arm solid as a rock, not showing the slightest tremor. “You move, and I’ll put it through your head, Slag.”
Abby stopped, standing absolutely still. Ryder dragged her over and tied her in place. Even from a distance, I could feel the rage seething inside her.
Brunner stomped over and kicked her in the face. Her head bounced off the tree, blood flowed down her face, a gory mask concealing her. “See how you like it, Slag,” he screamed at her unmoving body.
Powell stood in the center of the clearing, the victorious general overlooking the battlefield. He stared straight at me. “Now that the children are put to bed, the guest of honor is awake. You ready for the main event, Tommy?”
I lifted my head and looked him in the eye. “Bring it on.”
18
Powell laughed a long, hearty laugh. “Boy, you have no idea how much I’ve been waiting to do this.” He motioned at Waxenby lying on the ground. “Brunner, take care of the trash. We’ll be having a bigger audience than I thought.”
Brunner dragged Waxenby by the feet past Jon and Marcel. He secured Waxenby to the same tree as the unconscious Abby. He pulled on the ropes to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. He kicked Abby in the head again, blood spraying from her already bleeding mouth, before returning to where Powell stood in front of me.
“As soon as it gets dark, the fun begins.” Powell barked a harsh laugh.
“When do I get Wendi?” Brunner whined. “You promised me I could have her.”
Powell turned on Brunner. “Soldier, you’ll follow orders.”
“I ain’t one of your Reclamation soldiers, Powell.” Brunner acted like a child who couldn’t get a candy bar at the grocery store. “You promised I’d get to kill people, and any girls were mine.”
A
disgusted look crossed Powell’s face. “I told you, Mr. Brunner, when I give the go-ahead, you can do as you please.”
“We got to kill Taylor,” Brunner complained. “All this time and we only got to off one Slag.”
“Enough,” Powell roared. “You’ll follow orders without complaint.” He paused to emphasize his words as he did when he was discussing a particular point he wanted to stick in history class. “After sunset, we will make an example of these Slags.”
“Example of what?” Who knew I was so brave? I guess knowing you’d be dead soon kept you from caring what your mouth did.
“The Reclaimers wanted all you Slags eliminated, but the Protector collared you instead.” Powell paced back and forth. “The public couldn’t stomach mass executions, so here we are. Slags either imprisoned or collared and kept close at hand.”
“What threat are we to you?” Blaze’s voice echoed in my head about how uncontrolled anger would lose you the fight before the first blow. I tamped the rage down as I spoke. “We are collared before we can even use our Gifts.”
“Gifts? GIFTS!” His voice edged toward the upper registers. He stormed over to stand before me. “This is what your Gifts do, Ward. That bastard killed twenty of my men and left me looking this way.”
The damage was much worse than I had ever noticed. Cracks and scabs still remained in his scalp. His ear withered like a flower in the hot desert sun. No one dared stare, so this was the first time I got to see the results of my dad’s attack up close. Mom told me Dominion had taken control of him at the time, but I wasn’t overly proud at the moment.
“You see, don’t you?” He regained his normal stern composure. “Once we kill enough of you, the Slags hiding in the wastelands of our nation’s greatest cities will come forward, and then we will destroy them once and for all.”
Powell walked toward the river, back straight, head held high. As he stood outlined by the setting sun, I saw the proud warrior who had defended the United States instead of the broken man who would kill me to start a war because he never left the last one. He strolled down the riverbank away from camp as if there wasn’t a care in the world.
Once the sun set, Ryder and Clint built the fire higher. I saw Clint rubbing his crotch where Abby had kicked him. They made multiple trips to the wood pile just beyond the clearing. Meanwhile, Brunner perched on a stump watching Wendi, a hungry look in his eyes and toilet paper stuffed up his nose to stop the bleeding. He reminded me of a dog waiting for scraps to fall off the table. Absently, he pulled the knife out of the stump and juggled it between his hands while staring. Powell lurked somewhere close by.
I pulled again at the ropes, my arms straight out like the Michelangelo anatomy picture the science teacher had in her classroom. I couldn’t really feel them any more since they had been there for at least three hours. Mom would be getting home soon to find an empty house. I guessed she’d understand what happened since our bodies were the trophies of Powell’s sick game. He would be sure to share them to get his war. I wondered if he would put them outside the school.
I tried to flex my shoulders again—any sense of feeling would be a welcome change, even if pain was all I got for my trouble. A noise to my left caught my attention. Clint stood behind the pole my left arm had been tied to. He chewed his nails, his eyes darting around the fire lit clearing.
“Tommy, I’m sorry. I didn’t know Chuck would take it this far. I thought we was messin’ with ya to get even fer the other day.”
“It’s okay, Clint,” I said as softly as I could. “Can you loosen the ropes? My arms are going to fall off soon.”
His shoulders slumped as he looked at his shoes. “He’d kill me if I’d did. I’m sorry though.”
He fled, leaving me to my fate. I couldn’t blame him; crossing Powell and Brunner would be suicidal. I felt my last chance slide away.
My team laid in ruins. Jon barely conscious. Marcel huddled in a ball, crying softly inside the burlap bag. Abby, still unconscious, with blood covering her face from her busted nose. Waxenby caught my eye, but there was nothing he could do; even Commander Gravity had his limits, especially without his Gift.
Wendi was still tied to the post across from me. Four cedar posts and the crossbeams remained from the old picnic shelter, which had stood here before a storm destroyed it. I tried to catch her eye, give her some hope, but I felt lost myself.
Focused, Brunner rose from the stump, still carrying his knife. He kissed Wendi, and the hand not holding the knife pawed at her breast. She gave no reaction and stared off into space. I tasted the bitterness of failure rising my throat.
His eyes flickered around the clearing, searching intently. The knife leapt back and forth between his hands, as he muttered to himself until he made up his mind. Leaping from the stump, he quickly cut Wendi’s ropes. She slumped forward into Brunner. Shoving her against the post with one hand holding her neck, he slid the knife under her shirt, cutting through the fabric.
Wendi screamed an awful, soul-rending scream of terror. She tried to fight back, but Brunner put the knife to her throat and she stopped.
“Brunner, I swear to God, I’m going to kill you.” My voice burst out as loud and harsh as I could make it.
He spun around, putting her in front of him, the knife still to her throat. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the dried blood, which dripped off her chin. Her eyes pleaded for me to help, but I was helpless, tied like a piñata waiting to be beaten until all the stuffing came out.
“Ward, you wanna watch while I do your girl?” He sneered from behind her. The firelight flickered across his face giving him a demonic appearance, which was right on the money. “At least she’ll have a real man before she dies.”
I surged against the ropes, but they held, shooting waves of pain up my arms. Brunner laughed. I tried again, but the only things giving way were my shoulder sockets.
Powell decided to make his appearance, the Caesar entering his Coliseum. He surveyed the mayhem that had ensued in his absence. He shook his head, disappointment clearly written on his face.
“Powell, I got tired of waiting. She’s mine.”
“Mr. Powell, please,” Wendi pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.
Powell rubbed his eyes. “Fine.” Annoyance thick in his voice. “You won’t follow orders, get it over with, but for God’s sake, drag her over there and kill her when you’re done.” He pointed off into the tree line while he walked across to my post.
Brunner’s face lit up like a dog with a new toy. Wendi shrieked hysterically, the sound bouncing around the clearing and off the water, pulling with all her might against his hold as he took his prize to the appointed area. Clint and Ryder followed, not wanting to miss the show.
My brain exploded with a mixture of rage and grief. I had to stop all this. “Powell, my dad should have burned your freaking head off when he had the chance. He would save us all a lot of trouble,” I declared in the area where only the two of us could hear what was said.
Powell laughed closing the final distance, his face inches from mine. “Nice try, Ward. Trying to save your girlfriend is admirable, but you’ll listen to her scream before I kill you.”
“My father is Cyclone Ranger,” I hissed, the words burning my mouth as I broke my promise to my mom, but this was my last-ditch effort to save Wendi. “He carried you to the aid station and let them think you had captured him. All the stories about taking down him down were all lies. Did you tell your buddies you wet your pants he scared you so bad?”
“Stop!” he screamed.
“How proud your family must be,” I kept on like a matador taunting the bull. “The mighty Lewis C. Powell, pants wetter! If he’d been on target, it’d have blown your head clear off.”
Powell molted red, his burnt scars leaving white patches in the crimson. He turned toward the wood screaming, “Brunner, you can have playtime later!”
Brunner started to protest but paled when he realized Powell’s pistol was leveled at
him. He stopped trying to saw off her jeans and returned Wendi to the post, holding her while Clint and Ryder retied her.
“Get the truck. We’re going to see how Mr. Ward likes being burnt.” His eyes crackled with insane energy. I’d just pushed the big, red button in Powell’s brain.
Brunner ran, throwing the knife into the stump as he went. Headlights illuminated the clearing when he drove up in front of us. Powell banged on the hood, and the latch popped with a hollow thud.
“Clint, get the jumper cables from the back.” Powell opened the hood, propping it open with the metal arm. Clint tossed the cables to him. The madman smiled over his shoulder at me as he hooked up the cables and made a show of touching the clamps together producing a shower of sparks.
Powell got inches from my face, quietly spitting words back at me the same way I had done to him. “Two people in the world know that story, and Cyclone Ranger is the other, so I know you’re telling the truth. I’m gonna make you beg for me to end you. When I’m done, I’m going to pay a visit to your beautiful mother and make sure she suffers just the way my wife did when Titan smashed her and my baby girl to death.”
Oh my God! I never thought that by telling Powell I would put her in danger. Tears rolled down my face as I realized what I’d done. Powell would kill us all anyway, and my big mouth now cost the only person who loved me her life as well.
“Ryder, get a bucket of water,” Powell said over his shoulder. “Not so mouthy now are you?”
I shook. I had never been so scared in my life. “Please, don’t hurt my mom. She didn’t realize who he was when they got married,” I lied.
“Too bad. I’ll take pictures so Cyclone Ranger knows who killed his family before he dies in the arena. Then, Tommy boy, we’ll be even for what he’s done to me.”
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