Where We Stand

by Angela White

  “She needs a protector.”

  Jax had sensed that when they picked her up. “Zack...?”

  “Adrian.”

  Jax stared at Marc, marveling at the genius, but worrying over the animosity in the word.

  “Will you try?”

  Jax forced it out. “To turn her into someone he’d want?”

  Marc looked away. “Into Angie. He won’t settle for anything less.”

  “I’m sorry, no,” Jax answered regretfully. “She’s unique.”

  “Do the best you can,” Marc conceded. He knew that.

  Jax took the request seriously and went to where Kendle was now staring around hopelessly for a place to sleep.

  “We have tents over here. Follow me.”

  Kendle did, relieved to sense no hostility from Jax. She knew Marc had a woman somewhere and these men probably knew her, too.

  “I’ll be your guard while you’re here.”

  “I am not a prisoner,” she growled, changing her mind.

  Jax quickly calmed her down, thinking she at least had Angela’s fire. “To keep you safe. There are a lot males here in case you hadn’t noticed. And you gave a good show to them.”

  Kendle shrugged angrily. “I’ll kill.”

  Jax didn’t doubt it. “At some point, he’ll probably send you to our main camp, to help there. Do you know about Safe Haven?

  Kendle followed him into the large tent, surprised at all the supplies waiting in neat stacks. “I heard the calls when we were in the East.”

  “It’s a good place. Not like here.”

  Kendle glanced around. “What’s wrong with here?”

  Jax didn’t answer that. Instead, he got started fulfilling the Ghost’s need. The more he thought about it, the more he liked Marc’s plan.

  “Our leader is Adrian. Marc’s wife is with him, helping to run thing there.”

  Kendle thought that spoke volumes about the type of woman Brady already had and her shoulders drooped. “I thought it would be something like that.”

  “He’s as spoken for as a man can get. Brady doesn’t even use the camp whores.” Jax stated, grimacing at the thought of Leslie. He still missed her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Old ghosts,” Jax stated. “Anyway, we have camp rules there and I’d like to give you a start now so that you’ll be able to fit in.”

  “Why would you help me?” she demanded suspiciously.

  Jax didn’t struggle with a response. “Because it will help a lot of people and bring peace to those who need it most–including you.”

  Kendle couldn’t find any lies in his mind and let it go. “If you think I should, we’ll do that. What else can I do or not do here?”

  Jax frowned. “I didn’t ask. I’ll have that information to you shorty.”

  Kendle sat down in the chair by the table. She saw his gaze go to the other seat and waved him over. “Talk if you want. I plan to get comfortable and lay down after I sit here and stare for a few minutes.”

  Kendle hadn’t had some of these luxuries in much longer than Jax. She’d been on an isolated island where there weren’t any stores to loot or buildings to pick through.

  Jax took the seat across from her, smiling. “The most important thing you need to know about Safe Haven, is that you won’t ever be hurt again. That fear of people will fade in Adrian’s light. He is the Guardian and there’s nothing he won’t do for us.”

  8

  Marc took his time moving through the dozens of small camps around the one Paul and Jax now had him sequestered in. He needed to talk to these men, to make sure of their hearts, and it would take a while. He didn’t expect to get to sleep until well after midnight.

  Marc sat with them, smoked and drank lightly, while observing intently. He also healed their wounds where he felt it warranted it. This wasn’t to gain more support or strengthen bonds. He did it to help. He didn’t like their pain, no matter if they deserved it the healing or not. And some of these men did not. The stains on their souls were ugly, but Marc didn’t single them out like Adrian would have done. He needed them.

  As he traveled from group to group, Marc found himself being gifted with small totems and tokens of their faith, their support. He took these things with reverence, respecting the legends that had gotten him this far.

  When he asked about the things that those at the meeting hadn’t wanted to tell him, Marc got answers from these outer clans. He learned there had been assassination attempts on Jax and that Paul had stopped two of them. Thaddeus had saved him the third time and the warriors were keeping a close watch on the rookie. Paul had become respected well enough that the Indians didn’t fear for his safety.

  Marc wasn’t sure why the top men hadn’t wanted him to know about the deaths, fighting, and warriors leaving, but it came to him as he stared at one of the tokens. It was a snow globe, with a Christmas scene in it. The gift implied a childlike innocence and a complete obsession. Marc pieced it together and realized they were afraid he would leave them if he didn’t like what he heard. They didn’t understand that they held the power.

  Again, he was forced into accepting that Adrian hadn’t been lying when he said his herd needed him, that it wasn’t all a power-trip. These men were the same. He’d brought them together and only he could lead them into battle. It was fight that each of them longed for, and there was likely little they wouldn’t do to keep him happy and here.

  “No worries, my friends,” Marc murmured, moving toward his tent. “I’m in it for the long haul.”

  After only weeks, he was a convert. How could Adrian have even thought of giving this up, let alone actually done it? Marc’s respect for the man went up and so did his dislike. It was something he already wasn’t sure how he would do when the time came.

  9

  Marc found Jax and Kendle sitting on the bank of the nearly dried-up creek, talking in low tones. He joined them without saying anything and Paul followed a minute later. It was as if Kendle had been with them all along as they sat there, listening to her tell Jax of the battle for the island she’d washed up on.

  “Was Luke your man?” Jax asked as she finished with their flight to get home.

  “Yes,” Kendle admitted. “Before I was… hurt, he made me his and I wanted that. Now, I doubt I’ll have another true mate.”

  Marc held his tongue and stopped Jax when he would have pushed. Healing took time.

  “How long have you been…” Paul trailed off as Kendle grimaced in pain.

  She took in a steadying breath. “After I was taken by Ethan Kraft. He had the rage sickness and he was... obsessed. It broke something inside me.”

  The cell door, Marc thought. He said: “Have you explored it, more than what I’ve already noted?”

  Kendle’s voice dropped into leery shame. “I can do a lot.”

  Marc carefully put an arm around her shoulders, still feeding the story that she was his woman. “Will you show me some of the things you can do?”

  Kendle sighed. “You won’t send me away?”

  “Not even if it gets out of control and hurts someone,” Marc promised. “I need to determine our strengths so that I know where you should be for the bigger fights.”

  Those words had her mouth opening to spill gifts that Marc thought even Samantha might be jealous of. When he asked her to demonstrate, she did it slowly and stunned them all.

  “She controls nature!”

  Kendle pushed harder and the small torrents reached the edge of the bank, to lap the stones. She let go with a grunt, leaning against Marc’s arm. It was exhausting.

  “Are you still furious?”

  “Yes, but not out of control,” Kendle offered.

  “Good. You’ll use it to help yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  Realizing he’d given her a way to remain with them longer, Kendle gave him a quick hug and got to her feet. “I need some energy. I’ll be back.”

  Marc thought of his own weariness, but didn’t tak
e care of it yet. No matter how he tried to look at it, it felt like stealing. He needed it offered or he couldn’t accept it. The problem was, none of these men knew it and he wasn’t allowed to tell them, because then it would be asking. It was a puzzle he hadn’t figured out yet.

  “I didn’t know women could be like us,” Red Stone stated from behind Marc and his rookies. “I’ve only ever known males.”

  Marc’s response was instant. “Wait until you get a load of Safe Haven’s females. They’re all special.”

  Red Stone’s face lit up with a need that Marc was surprised by. Didn’t the man have a wife? ... wives?

  “I do not have one who is like me,” Red Stone stated, reading his mind. “That is what we all wish for.”

  Marc didn’t argue. He’d found his other half. He could only wish the same on Red Stone.

  “Will she last?” Natoli questioned.

  Marc looked to where Kendle was now joining the workout of the Choctaw warriors. “Yes. She’ll be alive when the soldiers are dead and gone.”

  Natoli didn’t express his doubt. He’d experience the rage sickness, but never someone who could battle it and not spread the contagion. Kendle had marked several of their men during her lessons, and none of them were ill. In fact, two of those men now claimed that they’d been tested by the woman and given some of her magic. Natoli didn’t tell Marc of the stories going around. It was a worry for another night.

  “And tonight’s concern?” Marc asked quietly. “The fighting, the assassins? The lack of sanitization?”

  Natoli allowed a small stretch of his lips. “All.”

  Marc grunted. “I’ll have plans for you by morning. Keep it cool and calm until then.”

  Natoli left satisfied that Brady had been given (or had gone out and discovered) the information he needed to have. Nothing was large yet, but if they let it go, fights and disease could wipe them out long before the soldiers did.

  “A show from you would go a long way,” Paul suggested, aware of how attention was staying focused on them. “They’re waiting to see if you’ll be as open as she just was.”

  Marc consulted the demon inside. “What trick can I perform? What would be most effective?”

  “These are no tricks,” the demon scolded. “All your lives depend upon this. Play the role by believing in it.”

  Marc stored the reprimand and repeated the question.

  The demon paused, then gave him an answer. “Call your guides.”

  Marc slowly opened the door in his mind, still poised to react like a Marine even mentally, and he braced to handle about anything.

  “Ooohhhhh!”

  The wolf call sent chills into grown men and brought others to their feet. All of them searched the darkness.

  Marc concentrated harder, drawing what little energy he had left to toss through the cracked portal.

  Blinding light flashed in his mind and he sank to his knees in surrender. Whatever he’d called would have to be enough. He had nothing left to give them.

  “Oohhh!”

  Thaddeus and Red Stone began calming the restless fighters, sensing what was coming, and Marc lifted his head to find them all still and waiting.

  “No shooting. Let… them through,” Marc ordered.

  Radiomen and signalers relayed the order, and Marc let Paul help him to his feet.

  “I am the ghost,” he muttered in weary determination. “These are my brothers in shadow.”

  The first wolf to pad into the firelight appeared so much like Dog that Marc thought it was him at first. It allowed him extend a hand in trust without considering anything else first. The result was that he looked fearless as he caressed the soft fur of a wild wolf.

  The next two animals to join their firelight were enormous, with snarling lips and black fur that stood on end. They wanted to know why they’d been called.

  “So no one kills you instead of our enemy,” Marc clarified. “We are two sides of the same army.”

  The wolf that appeared like Dog, but felt different, nudged Marc’s hand and he resumed the rub. “Nature is no longer our enemy. It is theirs!”

  The tides were turning against the government, the pieces falling into place for Marc, and his men stared with a devotion that Adrian would have recognized. It was how his Eagles viewed him.

  10

  Marc paced his tent restlessly. The energy he’d taken was pulsing, light up doors, and causing discontent. It wasn’t enough. He still craved more and it was a slap in the face to remember the times he’d given to Angela, only to discover firsthand how she’d felt afterwards. It wouldn’t let sleep come and after an hour, he returned to their fire, where half a dozen warriors still remained. Around them, other fire lights flickered comfortingly.

  Marc didn’t talk and the Choctaw warriors left him to his thoughts. They were honored to be the chosen tribe, to be so close to their savior. Marc and his odd ones didn’t understand the fierce pride it gave these men. On the reservations, there had been only a few dominant clans that agreed to the laws for everyone, but even those had held little power. The Choctaw had been low in the pecking order and there wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for Marc to repay the return of their honor. The women and children were safe right now. As the chosen tribe, they were also being cared for.

  The temperature dropped as they sat around the fire. Fog drifted through the edges of the trees and weeds, creating a thin barrier that slowly obscured the forest around them. It muted sounds and isolated their camp, making it feel as though these seven men were alone with only the fog and the fire.

  Just before dawn, the fog thickened, moving though their camps like a plague bent on covering everything. Marc was still at the fire with a blanket that Red Stone had draped over him and the mug of now icy coffee still in hand. He hadn’t noticed either action as he delved further into the doors.

  Marc was dream-walking. Unlike Angela, who feared being able to control her demon when it was away from her, Marc simply went along for the ride. He chose where they went, who they had contact with, and it was a learning time that he’d never imagined possible.

  Paul and Jax were woken by Kendle.

  Her quick ankle-kicks brought them to their feet and both men took in the fog and her concerned face with alarm. Something was happening.

  They followed her through the damp shadows to the center fire.

  Dozens of men tensed, drawing weapons.

  “Stand down!” Kendle snapped at them.

  Men did so sheepishly. Spiritually connected or not, the feeling of something coming was thicker than even the fog.

  As if waiting for Paul and Jax, Marc began to speak.

  “They’ve reached the line we set. Fifty men are camped there. Thirty minutes behind them, the main force is now rising. They will arrive as we battle the first and sweep us away like wind.”

  Marc slowly pulled out of the trance, tone grim. “We have to take out that first force before they can get one call through.”

  Marc stood up. “Wake those you need and get started working on it. That first force will get here quickly.”

  Paul and Jax stayed with Marc, but Kendle vanished into the fog, mind spinning. There wasn’t enough time or men to dig a pit, and a gas attack would still give them time to call…

  Kendle went toward the edge of their wide perimeter, ignoring the tension of the lookouts and the fighters.

  Atolius followed the odd woman silently, nodding to those she passed, those who were also protecting her when she traveled their areas. As the Ghost’s woman, she would be cared for if anything happened to him. Since it was clear that she didn’t need caring for now, other than protection from possible assassins, he wasn’t sure why he was with her. Kendle was also odd, like Marc, and that meant her words were as important. She might even be followed if anything happened to Marc, but Atolius wasn’t searching for a bond with a possible leader, either. He just felt the need to be close.

  Kendle didn’t care one way or the other, thou
gh she was getting their thoughts easily enough. She was in this for blood and Marc had just asked for a plan to spill a lot of it. She not only wanted to give it to him, she wanted to be the one causing it.

  Kendle waited by the perimeter as the fog slowly began to dissipate. The first area to clear was the small, cool creek that ran the length of their perimeter. It also crossed under 40. If they took out that section of road, the soldiers would be forced to walk across the barely moving creek, where they would be vulnerable from assassins in the tall weeds on either side.

  “And I know what we can do, don’t I?” Kendle muttered.

  Atolius didn’t doubt it any more than their protection did. The hum of raw power was still vibrating through their minds. He carefully took her arm and headed for their leader.

  11

  It took them long hours to bring the bridge down and make it look natural. They couldn’t use dynamite or anything else that would echo to the enemy. They were forced to use coordinated vehicle and manpower movements that caused injuries and made Marc to repeatedly drain himself to heal them.

  The advantage was in the sounds it did create. Collapsing concrete support beams breaking into chunks sounded like the normal noises in this new world. Everything was falling down.

  The bridge itself hadn’t come down yet, but there were only two thick beams holding it in place. Gaping cracks and fissures ran through these supports and the bridge itself from their efforts, telling Marc it wouldn’t take much more.

  Marc waved at the team to proceed and they all began grunting and straining on the thick coils of rope. Marc had refused to use their vehicles for this part of it, not about to bury men alive, but he was almost sure he would still leave the ropes to be found.

  Crackkk!

  The bridge swayed dangerously as the men pulled harder, encouraged by the new splits in the support beams.

  “That’s it! Snap the ropes!” Marc ordered, yanking.

  The ropes began untwisting themselves, but not in time. The bridge shattered down the side and collapsed onto the thick beams, bringing it all down in chunks. The ropes would be left.