The Legend

by Melissa Delport

  Speeding across the room, I force his hand, and he engages me to thwart my obvious intention of attacking Kenneth. Over and over, he attempts to strike, but I block every blow. We are very evenly matched, but one thing becomes clear as I slowly force him backwards – Reed is truly the strongest man alive. I have fought others with the Power of Three, and yet none of them have come close to his strength. And sparring with him has made me almost as powerful. Taking the offensive, I start to fight back and soon the NUSA soldier is the one trying to dodge my onslaught of punches. A particularly brutal uppercut just clips his jaw, but it is all the leverage I need. It slows his reflexes and I power through his next block, slamming my fist into his left cheek. As his head whips around, I leap up and bring my elbow down between his shoulders, the force knocking him to his knees. Before he can react, I bring both arms down, my thumbs tucked in and I land a knife hand strike to each side of his neck in perfect unison. He slumps to the ground, and I round on Kenneth furiously, but a yell of pain near the door diverts my attention.

  Winston has Aidan in a choke hold and judging by the colour of his face and the glazed look in his eyes, Aidan is almost out of oxygen. I propel myself forward, taking the few short steps at a run, and then I launch myself into the air towards them, catching Winston around the neck as I sail over him, suspended upside down above him for a second before my legs flip over and then I am arching back down to the ground, my body falling fast, taking Winston over with me. I land on my feet, Winston now behind me, my grip on his neck tightening as I use my momentum and all the strength in my arms to fling his body over, hearing the audible crack in my ear as his neck snaps. I release him and turn to face Kenneth before Winston’s body has even hit the ground.

  Kenneth’s eyes are as round as saucers and as I move towards him he lets out a whimper of genuine terror.

  “Rebecca, please,” he stammers, looking so like his frail former self that anyone else might doubt his intentions. Unfortunately for Kenneth, his pathetic display invokes no compassion in me.

  “Are you okay?” I rest a hand on Aidan’s heaving shoulder as I pass, my eyes never leaving Kenneth’s.

  “Fine,” he croaks, getting unsteadily to his feet.

  I step closer to Kenneth, stopping about three yards from where he is cowering behind his desk.

  “Any last words?”

  “You can’t do this!” he hisses. “I am the President of the New United States of America!”

  “The New United States as you know it will cease to exist from this day forward,” I correct him. “The fences will fall, with you.”

  “Guards!” Kenneth shrieks in panic. “Guards!”

  “No one’s coming,” I point out. “You sent them all out to kill me, and left yourself defenceless. You underestimated us, Kenneth.”

  “You wouldn’t kill me,” he pleads. “You know me. Your father spent his life protecting me. I made a terrible mistake. Please . . . forgive me.”

  “Now you’re underestimating me,” I murmur, without emotion.

  I reach into my jacket and withdraw the pocket pistol I had taken from Norman’s basement. There is only one bullet in the chamber, but that is all I need. I raise the gun and point it straight at Kenneth.

  “The war is over,” I declare as I squeeze the trigger.

  chapter 42

  It was only fitting that Kenneth should die by the very weapon he was so eager to bring back. I have killed many men, but I didn’t want his dirty blood on my hands. I didn’t want to be tainted by his evil. I had killed Eric, but Eric had been different. Despite his wrongdoings, he had truly believed that what he was doing was in the best interests of the people. He was power hungry and did terrible things, but he had a cause, no matter how twisted. Kenneth was a different breed of monster – he had not cared about a single soul other than himself. He wanted dominion over everything and everyone, at any price. It was men like Kenneth who had destroyed our planet to begin with, and it was only fitting that his death marked the end of the violence.

  I stand frozen in time, in the moment, still holding the gun at shoulder height, barely able to comprehend that I have finally, finally finished what I started all those years ago. I barely hear the footsteps as the room fills with people; whether friend or foe, I have no idea. Amidst the yelling and the chaos, one voice rises above the others.

  “Rebecca!” Aidan’s face swims before me, his expression one of triumph and pride. “You did it!” His voice breaks and he seizes hold of me, pulling me towards him and enveloping me in a bone-crushing hug. I barely have a moment to respond when we are forced apart and I glance around in bewilderment to find what must be the entire Chicago police department surrounding us, batons in hand.

  “You’re under arrest!” The chief officer steps forward. A few men are trying to revive Kenneth, but I am unconcerned. Kenneth is dead, he has gone where he can never hurt anybody ever again.

  Aidan meets my gaze, waiting for my instruction, but I shake my head, dropping the gun and offering both my hands. These men are not NUSA soldiers, they have no extraordinary capabilities. They are officers of the state, and they do not deserve to be punished.

  “Aidan,” I call, as they march him out of the room and he turns back to look at me, two policemen bumping into his back. “I didn’t mean it,” I admit, my emotions flooding through me. I need him to know the truth, after all this time. “It was always you.”

  I lied to Kenneth, but I cannot lie to Aidan – to the boy who became a man, who became my equal without my even realising it. The perfect man for me. His face creases into a smile that is both broken and infinitely beautiful.

  “I know,” he admits, and a million unspoken words pass between us. He opens his mouth to speak again but it is too late – the cops are already pushing him out of the door.

  I am ushered down the stairs and out into the first light of a new dawn. To my relief, I see a small group of my own people standing amidst a crowd of blue. It looks like Fiona’s plan worked. They managed to convince a few of their former allies to cease and desist. Soldiers are people, after all, not machines. It is a lot harder to take on a friend than an enemy. Fiona is, to these men, what Kwan is to me. My teacher, mentor, friend. And I would certainly never attack Kwan, at least not without stopping to listen. The sky is tinged with pink, and I appreciate its beauty for a moment before I am shoved roughly forward and escorted into a waiting police car. As we pull out of the drive, I spot Fiona standing to one side, and as we pass, she lifts her hand to her temple in a silent salute.

  I am locked inside a prison cell, but left to my own devices. The Chicago police are no doubt unsure what to do with me – they are ill-equipped to handle this situation. There is hardly any crime inside NUSA, and punishment is usually decided by the President. I can see how that might pose a problem.

  The cell is not really that uncomfortable, and I am eternally grateful for the window on the far wall, or I might have found myself recalling the last time I was incarcerated when Kenneth had tortured me. That had been an awful, inhumane, windowless room, whereas the cell I am currently occupying has a decent bed and a working, private toilet. The food is also good, considering what I am used to eating, but the solitude works on my nerves. With nothing else to do, I find that I agonise obsessively about my people. I am desperate for news, particularly of Alex, and I pray constantly that someone, anyone, will come and find me.

  It is late in the afternoon on the third day of my incarceration when I hear a commotion in the outer office, and I peer curiously through the bars. A lone figure walks through the gate and comes to stand before my cell.

  “Took you long enough,” I grin, as Adam unlocks the cell gate.

  “You have been pardoned,” he smiles.

  “By whom?” I ask, although I already know the answer.

  “By the President of the United States of America,” he replies, confirming that N
USA is no more. “By me,” he adds, and I give a whoop of euphoria as I hug him tightly.

  “Is everyone okay? What happened, did the others make it? Did the convoy get into town? Where’s Alex?” The questions stream from my mouth in quick succession and Adam holds up a hand to halt the flow.

  “There’s someone else who will answer your questions,” he promises. “Wait here.”

  “But . . .” I watch his retreating figure and a hollow dread settles in the pit of my stomach. A second later Aidan appears. He rushes to my side and wraps his arms around me.

  “You’re okay,” he sighs deeply, relief emanating off him.

  “Aidan, where’s Alex?” I swallow, my throat suddenly dry.

  “He’s fine,” he takes hold of both my shoulders. “Most of our people are fine – they’re already being brought into the States. But some people . . . some people didn’t make it.”

  “What are you . . .” I cannot finish the sentence because I already know what he is going to say.

  “Reed . . .” he begins.

  “No!” I cut him short, the blood draining from my face. “No,no,no,no,no . . .” I shake my head in denial.

  “He saved Alex,” Aidan’s voice breaks and I see tears shining in his eyes. “He saved all of them.”

  “No.” My own tears spill over and course down my cheeks. “No, no, please no!” I collapse as my knees give way, a rolling fog of grey clouding my vision and filling my mind. “No!” I scream, and then the small, cold confines echo with the sound as I scream over and over, clawing at my face. If it weren’t for Alex, I would wish with all my heart that I had not lived through this.

  chapter 43

  The next few days are a haze. Henry, who has taken up residence in a nearby hospital, keeps me sedated. My grief is so consuming that I am a danger to myself, I hear him telling my father. I learn that of my team only Rory didn’t make it. Apparently Heath, Quinn and the others managed to fight their way through the guards in the grounds of Kenneth Williams’ house and, better still, they had managed to convince some of them to stop fighting. Fiona was far more effective. Her entire team were previous NUSA soldiers, and they had known some of the guards at Kenneth’s home which had allowed them to reason with them. In fact some NUSA soldiers had turned on their own and fought alongside Fiona and her people. Clint is pretty beaten up, but he should make a full recovery. It is not lost on me that Fiona had been right in saying that Kenneth’s men would be less likely to attack the women. Clint had certainly taken the most hammering.

  Adam lost many members of his Ordinary who had come to the Legion’s aid in Gainesville, and the Legion’s losses have been heavy. Countless soldiers had fallen in the battle, including David, who I had come to consider a friend. Neither Gabe nor Crackerjack had made it out of the Academy alive. Fiona had lost twelve of her men. Jupiter is devastated by the loss of his sister, and it dawns on me that even with his policy of non-involvement, he too ultimately lost someone dear to him in the name of freedom. Most shocking is the news of the General’s death – Harrison Ross had been one of the founders of the Resistance, and he would never know of its triumph. It was almost inconceivable that he had perished, given that he was supposed to be safely in town but, like a ship’s captain and unbeknownst to the rest of us, the General had simply refused to leave the Academy before the attack.

  Jethro, despite what I had witnessed, has survived, but is confined to a wheelchair. Mason had broken Jethro’s back, not his neck as I had thought. Jethro is paralysed from the waist down, but Adam is ensuring that he is in the best medical hands. It is too early to tell whether he will regain movement or be able to walk again. The specialists need to wait for the swelling to subside before they can make a full diagnosis, but we are all praying that some function will return. Veronica does not leave Jethro’s side and makes every effort to keep him positive. I had not known that Veronica, too, had stayed on the Academy grounds when the fighting began. She had managed to elude the NUSA soldiers, and had pulled three wounded Legion soldiers to safety and given them medical assistance which, according to Henry, had saved their lives.

  And then there was Reed. Beautiful, brave, reckless Reed. Kwan and Morgan had watched it happen, and they are the ones who relay the story, as gently as they can. I wouldn’t have believed it if it hadn’t come from them. Alerted by the gunfire, Alex and Brooke had snuck out of town again. I cannot even bring myself to reprimand the children after the horrors of what they had seen. Morgan, who had been watching over them, had searched everywhere before the dreadful realisation had hit her and despite wanting to stay out of the fighting, she had raced to the Academy to look for them. She had fought her way through the crowd and alerted Reed and Kwan, who had immediately set off to find the children. Alex and Brooke had been making their way from the edge of the grounds when a NUSA Humvee had careened through the fence not far from them.

  Reed had driven his own Humvee straight into the NUSA vehicle as it sped towards where the frozen, terrified children were standing and the two cars had collided directly over one of Gabe’s explosive traps.

  The children escaped unscathed and Morgan delivered them back to town safely, but Reed was the true hero. Like Jonathan before him, he had sacrificed himself to save my son and his precious daughter who would now never have the opportunity to know him as a father.

  “Elizabeth didn’t make it either,” Kwan adds, his face contorted with misery.

  “What do you mean?” I gasp, unable to take any more.

  “She also came up to the Academy to help look for Alex and Brooke,” Morgan explains gently. “She didn’t make it back.” Kind, gentle Elizabeth who couldn’t bring herself to use her own ability. She was not a fighter, and the thought that anyone had hurt her is unbearable.

  There are so many casualties that we hold a mass memorial service to bury our dead. Adam had enlisted Jupiter’s semi to transport the bodies so that they could be buried here in Chicago. The day before the funeral I insist that Henry stop giving me the meds. I will not dishonour the memory of Reed and the others by being too numb to feel it.

  Adam’s role of new leader has been greeted with mixed emotions from the populace, but his sincerity and his solid plans seem to be paying off. He has already held a press conference, and will be travelling to each and every state as soon as possible to do the same – visiting the communities personally, and answering any questions they might have. As expected, the biggest contention is the removal of the boundary fences, but the reformed Deranged he has enlisted have gone a long way towards reassuring the people. The Legion and the NUSA soldiers will be combined into a United States Army to protect us from the Rados and any other threat we may encounter. The army is no longer employed solely to protect the President; they will now protect the people – each and every citizen.

  It also helps that many of the older citizens of the States remembered Adam’s father with much fondness. It is surprising just how many people wanted change but were too afraid to fight for it. Adam, however, is insistent that his Presidency is only a temporary arrangement and has decreed that we hold the first fair and democratic vote since the war of 2016. It doesn’t concern me – with the strong display of support he has already received, this election is only a formality. Adam Vincent will lead us into a new era.

  Aidan supports me as we make our way to the cemetery where our fallen comrades are to be buried and I lean on him heavily. I no longer feel the need to be the strong one. I have served my purpose, now I need to mourn the man without whom none of this would have been possible.

  Adam’s voice rings out loud and clear as he delivers the eulogy, and I stand beside Reed’s white coffin in a black dress that Jenna had brought me, a single white rose in my hand. I cannot stem the flow of tears that stream down my cheeks, dripping off my chin and onto my chest until the black fabric is soaked through. Aidan squeezes my hand, offering silent support, and I am gratef
ul for his presence although I know that I will never recover.

  Adam mentions each and every person who lost their life in the final battle, paying respect individually. It is a long process but nobody moves, nobody fidgets or shuffles as you might expect. We hang on to every word, Adam’s beautiful speech resonating in all of us. I wait with a heavy heart, but he does not mention Reed’s name.

  “Rebecca,” he calls finally, his voice soft, and I raise my tear-streaked face. “Would you like to say something?” he invites and I nod quickly, releasing Aidan’s hand and touching the smooth wood beneath my fingers. Taking a deep breath, I start to speak, softly at first and then louder as I pay homage to the bravest man I have ever known.

  “Reed McCoy lived through World War Three, as many of us did but, unlike some of us, he refused to lie down and give in. He never once considered that life had dealt him a bad hand. He was the strongest of us all . . . the bravest . . . the best,” my voice breaks and I take a moment to compose myself. “Reed died saving the lives of others. That is just who he was – he sacrificed everything for the cause that he believed in . . . for our cause. I will not forget, and nor should you.” I look up and gaze across the sea of faces swimming before me. “You owe this man your lives. Everything that happens now is because of the sacrifice that he made. Honour him, as I will. For ever.”

  I step towards Adam and take from him the beautifully pressed American Flag that Morgan had brought me the day before. Kwan, my father, Adam and I drape it over the white coffin, fresh tears dripping onto the beautiful fabric. In the Rebeldom we buried our dead in cloth and rags, and the opulence of the coffins around us is a stark contrast. I place the white rose over the flag, and others step forward to do the same until the fabric is covered in the rare, beautiful flowers. Eric once procured two for me as a token of his love. For Reed, we had amassed hundreds.