by Angela White
“I don’t want this!” she whispered furiously, holding in tears. She wanted to be with Marc, fighting and bleeding alongside him, not caring for sheep that had to be eased into the truth.
Those days have ended, the witch attempted to soothe. They know the truth. They come to you more every day, observe the lessons and practicing. Those who are here, will stay.
“And it’s not enough,” Angela moaned. “We need more fighters.”
“Send out your call,” Adrian instructed, aware of their curious audience. The first camp on their doorstep was now gathered a respectful distance away, gazing at them in awe and making the Eagles nervous.
Angela’s voice was harsh. “Too emotional right now. I’ll call the killers, too.”
Adrian stepped in front of her. “We need them.”
Angela glowered mistrustfully.
Adrian recognized the determination to keep their people safe. He brought her to his point of view gently. “We’re all killers, Angie. We’ll control them, direct them toward the enemy, and use them to win.”
“And after?!” she snapped. “What about after?”
Adrian winced, voice lowering. “They’ll be given new rules to live by.”
Angela knew what that definition was and swallowed the next layer of guilt to come with the job. “And what of the evil that will hear me?”
Adrian sighed. “I’m not sure it matters now. The battles along 40 aren’t slowing them down enough. Our other help has to have time to get here.”
Angela felt the hopelessness, the crushing pain of all the losses they were about to suffer, and a bloody tear ran down her cheek. “Come to me.”
Angela’s call was quiet, but powerful, and each time she repeated it, the force rebounded stronger, slamming into minds with the force of a gun.
“Come to me.”
Angela screamed as the power built, sending ants away and men to her side.
“Come to me!”
Adrian caught her as she stumbled, mind ringing from the power. He could have been across the country and he would have felt that.
“Your…turn,” she gasped, struggling to get her balance. She’d never sent out a blast like that. It had come from the depths of her soul.
Adrian kept her hand when she would have pulled away. “I’ll need help. I’m not as strong as you.”
Angela stilled as Adrian closed his lids, using the moment. He’d needed an opening and fate had provided him with one.
Adrian opened the doors, all of them this time, and locked their minds as he began sending out those compelling mental pleas for aid.
Angela saw all the truths he’d been hiding from her, but the things she’d suspected were also confirmed. It was an honest look into his heart, into who he was inside. Angela struggled at the feel of it.
Adrian didn’t let her break the contact yet, using the images to distract her from moving. He showed her that beach again, shamelessly manipulating her, and felt the pause in her protests at this mental bond.
Adrian came through the fog of his mind and held out a hand. I can show you what you seek.
Angela didn’t want to, she knew something painful was coming, but the need to give Adrian what he was silently demanding was too strong. Fine! she sent hatefully. Show me and then get out!
Adrian linked the last door between them and Angela watched the world collapse again.
Adrian stopped her from hitting the ground, landing with her in his lap. He shook off the arms that tried to take her away.
“Angie?”
Angela groaned. “We can’t win…help us!”
Adrian carefully picked her up and headed for the deeper shadows. Instead of going to their camp, it drew instant unease from the Eagles.
“What did you do to her?” Shawn accused. He hadn’t killed Adrian yet only because of Marc’s orders to let the bastard have Angela if he died.
Adrian put her in the grass and began tapping her wrist. “She fainted. Stand down. Angie?”
Angela came to slowly, and it was clear she remembered everything. She grabbed Adrian’s wrist. “Your life for him? You swore!”
“You know it,” Adrian swore again.
Angela cleared her throat, breathing deeper. “I’m okay. Help me up.”
They got her on her feet. After a minute or so, Angela insisted she was fine and continued to her visit of their outer camps. The powerful new information she had, she buried in the vault. There was no way she could continue to pretend that nothing was wrong if she left the sight of that slaughter in the front of her mind. She’d send them all fleeing to the corners of the earth.
“And we’ll still lose,” Adrian commented. “But it buys time. You understand now why I’ve acted this way?’
“So they won’t hold on, so they’ll survive.”
“Yes. If they can only take one of us, they’ve been instructed to grab you. They think the rest of us will follow.”
“They’re right.”
“Yes.”
“It has to be you that they take,” Angela agreed. “And you’ll be ready for that.”
Adrian raised a hand toward her cheek, and forced himself to drop it. “To leave my son, my herd, you, no. But I will do it.”
Angela glared at him, tone sharpening. “Since I know now, you can stop pushing me into sacrificing you. I’ll do it if I know I have to.”
“You weren’t ready to face it. Now that you know Marc has accepted what’s coming, you can as well.”
Angela glared at him for the reminder. If Marc had someone by him in the night, it meant he knew, too. Angela refused to accept that, though she would take him back the second he said it’s what he wanted. She wasn’t sure about his…relief source yet. She might have to kill that bitch.
Adrian grinned sadly. “I admire your belief in him. It makes me love you even more.”
Eagles gasped and muttered as Angela scowled.
“I said you can stop pushing that act now!”
Adrian leaned closer, breathing in her sweet smell. “It wasn’t an act, Angela, and deep down, you know I mean every single word.”
He went by before she could react. “Come on. We’ve kept these fighters waiting long enough.”
Angry and unable to express it, Angela clenched her fists and plastered on a welcoming expression as she turned. “Hi. I’m Angela, the leader of Safe Haven. Thank you for coming...”
Chapter Twenty-One
How Many More
August 10th
Route 40, East of Amarillo
1
“Thirty more today, sir.”
“What’s the total now?”
“Over four hundred.”
“Base knew this would be a hard fight,” Francis commented calmly. “Too bad they didn’t have the foresight to send us through a more hospitable area.”
Wayne, second in command, agreed wholeheartedly. “We need more men. At this rate, we’ll get to Little Rock on a skeleton crew.”
Francis wasn’t overly concerned. “That’s all we need to secure it. Once it’s in our hands, the planes can bring out fresh men and supplies.”
“Wish they’d dropped us all there. They had the fuel.”
Francis frowned slightly at the grumbling. “The fuel in the bunker has to last a long time, Captain. They can’t be without power, can they?”
Chastised and aware of his commander’s violent temper, Wayne leaned back. “No. You’re right, sir. My apologies, sir.”
Francis didn’t react. “We can expect another trio of attacks tomorrow. Keep security as is, but widen the formations and clear the holes as we go.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wayne went to the meeting tent to relay the nightly orders to the platoon leaders.
Francis stared into the murky darkness. “Where are you, my Raven? Are you with the Ghost or in the nest?”
Footsteps crunching behind gave Francis no worries. He was the last of his kind, brought out of retirement to spearhead the charge against th
ese disgusting descendants. He feared nothing.
“We have a new report, sir. The casualty number went up to 51.”
“A patrol?”
“Yes, sir. Their throats were slit.”
Francis scowled this time. “Damn rebels!”
His growl sent the Sergeant scurrying away before he could become a target.
Francis hated showing any emotion. He couldn’t stand compassionate, weak-minded humans who wanted peace and joy. He thrived on the battles, the thrill of doing what others couldn’t, and this fight had already proven a challenge. There was even a chance of failure.
The former CIA operative grinned like a lunatic. “I will crush you, Ghost!”
Francis ducked into his luxury tent and gasped as a blade plunged viciously into his throat.
“Someone might. It won’t be you.” Marc wiped his knife across the tent wall in defiance and then slipped through the hole in the rear of the canvas.
He emerged a short few yards away from the tent and checked to verify that the shadow implied the dead commander was in his cot. He was hoping the boss wouldn’t be found until morning. It should start the day with a delay.
He turned to find himself looking down the barrel of a gun. Damn.
Marc’s eyes spoke a million thoughts.
The Private, shocked to find Marc here on his rounds, stared at the legend in the making.
Neither of them moved.
Marc took advantage of the moment. “Let me go and you have a place by my side when you flee their control.”
Ivan was much like the other men here–without any family and glad to be out of the ground, even though they were fighting their fellow Americans. He hesitated. It would be a promotion to capture the Ghost, but what would that really gain him?
“My men are loved,” Marc coaxed. “Come with me. Help me.”
Ivan may have come on his own, but Marc couldn’t wait for him to make up his mind. He sent out a wave of power and insisted, Let me go.
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.