Fallen Angels (Dystopian Child Prodigy SciFi) (The Unmaker Series Book 2)

by Casey Herzog

  The calm young man stood, taking a step forward and forcing the boy at the door to lift his gun a few inches in warning.

  “You coward,” Alex breathed. Besides the bruising, his young face looked aged with stress and worry; the weight of leading the community since the departure of the adults had already taken its toll, but the last few days had been too much even for him. It hadn’t even been an hour between the moment he’d found his father’s corpse laying in the remains of the building in Ayia, to the moment he’d discovered they’d been betrayed by several of their own. No, he corrected himself in his mind, just one of my own actually. Nathan.

  “Better to be a coward than an absolute fool who guides his people headfirst into their doom,” Nathan mocked. He tapped his gun on his thigh where he stood, lowering his head into his chest with a sigh. Alex edged closer, fully aware that he could easily take the boy down and disarm him if he could just cut the range separating them. “Hey, not so fast,” the black-eyed boy hissed, lifting his gun fully now and backing off a step. Alex knew better than to test the cruel child’s willpower — he’d already stood by and watched as Alex had been beaten by the men that accompanied him.

  “Why, Nathan?” It was the first time Alex had the chance to ask the question, and his eyes grew moist as he waited for the answer. There must be something to justify what he’s done, anything. He was forced? Maybe he’s been brainwashed, or they’re holding a loved one hostage?

  “I’ve been a mole ever since Johanna ‘saved’ me and took me to Eden,” the boy said softly, his voice only slightly louder than a whisper. “We needed a new home and satellite headquarters — it seems you will provide it. It’s that simple.”

  Alex swallowed. There was something just as urgent, or even more urgent than what he’d just asked, but his mind had been too fuzzy to determine priorities.

  "Where are the rest? I want to see them.”

  Nathan raised an eyebrow and sniffled in amusement. “Finally asking about your girlfriend? I thought you’d forgotten; my friends have her and the other kids. I was beginning to think that maybe you didn’t care about your piece of pussy anymore, Nathan said cruelly, and Alex bristled.

  “Just tell us they’re okay!” a girl cried out, and Alex turned momentarily, motioning at her to stay silent. Susie’s eyes were swollen from crying, and Alex couldn’t help but feel great pity for her and the other two who had fallen for Nathan’s seductive words. She, Richard and Franco had helped Nathan take control of the truck by keeping everyone at gunpoint and allowing the young traitor to access an explosives crate. Once he accessed weapons he’d held everyone hostage with a live grenade until his allies arrived. It was clear she and the other two were taking all of this harder than the rest, the guilt eating at them like a disease.

  “I can’t be sure,” Nathan laughed. “But never forget: this all happened because you allowed it to happen. If it weren’t for you and these two,” he said, pointing at Richard and Franco, “My plan might have failed, and my fellows might have torn to pieces by your group’s gunfire. Thanks for not letting that happen!” he shouted cheerfully, and Susie broke into tears once more.

  A voice interrupted the exchange, a man’s deep tone entering the room before he arrived. The child’s cockiness faded, and he nodded in respect at an approaching man unseen by Alex and the rest until the very last moment.

  “You need to stop tormenting them, boy,” the thug laughed, and the children trembled again in unison. Alex clenched his teeth — it was the same figure that had descended from the leading vehicle outside Ayia, clearly the leader of their captors, and above all, the main cause for all of their suffering. He was average height, bulky and ugly, a mane of messy black hair running down his neck.

  “As if your men didn’t take care of the other group in similar and even worse ways,” Nathan smiled, and Alex felt his blood boiling. If they’ve hurt Maria or any of the children, I’m going to go kill all of these fuckers before one of them puts me down. I swear it, he thought fiercely.

  “What have you done to them?” Alex growled. His hands were bunched into fists and he fought to control himself.

  The thuggish leader stared into the teenager’s eyes and slid something across the floor towards him. It spun at Alex’s feet, and his heart stopped. His eyes grew wide, and his breath came in short, painful bursts. Terrified whispers came from behind him as the children attempted to see what had been thrown at their leader.

  Beneath Alex was a knife, its blade coated in blood from the hilt to the point, as if it had been shoved entirely inside a body before being wrenched out violently.

  It was what finally broke Alex.

  “You fucking bastards!” he screamed, charging across the room with his arms outstretched and a line of furious saliva hanging from his bottom lip in anger and loss. Nathan’s eyes widened, and he lifted his pistol to aim, but the enemy leader stepped forward first.

  “Not so fast,” the man mocked, catching Alex’s palms with his own and twisting them outward simultaneously. The teenager cried out in pain before the man’s fist punched into his gut, sending him to his knees. A second blow knocked him to the floor, and Nathan added a cheap shot of his own — a kick across the face which left Alex seeing stars as the thug began to swing the door shut.

  “No…” Alex managed, stretching his arm uselessly at both of their captors.

  “That’s my boy,” he heard the man say as he patted Nathan on the head and the door slammed shut. Only then did Alex understand, through the pain and the haze.

  Nathan isn’t just a member of that bastard’s gang. He’s the bastard’s son…and they’ve just killed Maria and half of the kids…

  Alex curled up into a ball and collapsed into a sobbing wreck.

  I’ve failed you, father…

  She shook her head incredulously, raising her hands to her mouth in horror.

  “No, please,” she gasped, as if those words would be enough to bring back the dead.

  The knife lay in front of her, its entire form covered in blood. Maria looked up from it and saw the man and the child grinning in unison. Only then did she realize the similarities between them. Father and son, she knew. Nathan had infiltrated them from the beginning, acting as a mole to bring both groups together in a dirty betrayal.

  “Think about them, won’t you?” Nathan’s father said with a sneer. “You wouldn’t want to end the same way as your boyfriend and the others did.”

  Maria’s voice broke.

  “Alex…” she whispered, tears running down her cheeks. The children around her were mostly shocked, their young minds still too immature to immediately react to what they’d just learned.

  “We’ll talk later,” the man said with an amused tone. “Take care.”

  The metal door closed, leaving everyone in the dark once more. Maria fell onto her side, looking blankly at the cold, bloody metal lying in front of her. It meant so little, yet so much at the same time.

  All…dead…It was almost impossible to believe. Just a couple of days ago she’d been laying in bed with Alex, kissing him, embracing him as their bodies intertwined and shared the most exquisite sensations she’d ever felt; now he was dead. So were half of the group that had set out with them from Eden.

  Maria heard one of the children talking to her, shaking her desperately in an attempt to get a reaction, anything, but the girl was lost in her thoughts.

  First Paola, now this. In just a span of hours. It was too much for her. What came next? Would the men hurt her and the others? Keep them under threat of death? Were they going to sell them as slaves or use them for experiments — the fate of many innocents on the wastelands? Or was this just a simple matter of the thug wishing to satisfy his baser needs by keeping her alive?

  Maria’s jaw clenched and her hands tightened into fists. With a push, she got rid of the girl talking to her and picked something up before standing. The knife’s blood was still warm, but its warmth simply served to infuriate her further. They were ki
lled recently.

  “Maria, please,” Sarah said, brushing herself off, “We need to think.” She was one of the closest in age to Alex and Maria, but often lacked the decision-making and maturity to make any important calls in the community.

  Maria turned and Sarah flinched at the older girl’s expression.

  “I’m done thinking,” Maria said, her voice a dangerous whisper as she began to walk to the wall where the entrance was. “The next person who opens that door is going to die, whether it means it costs me my life or not. Our people must be avenged, no matter what.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Grudges

  “What?” Dante asked instinctively, causing Webster to turn and look at him with a scowl.

  “Combat training. Or did you think you were going to skip that?” Despite his cold tone, he smiled knowingly. It was his way of telling Dante he clearly remembered the night he beaten him on the roof of the First Term Building. It was pointless in the end, Dante thought bitterly, recalling how his attacker at the mess hall had overpowered him and Roberto. He hadn’t been able to stop it. Why is this suddenly coming up? A fight with Andrew? Andrew, no less. Not Keith, not Beth, not anyone else, but the guy who hates my guts. Webster spoke again, interrupting the Healer’s thoughts. “I’ll have you fight in pairs to make it interesting. Keith joins you; the girl joins King.”

  “Beth?” came the annoyed remark from Andrew’s lieutenant, and Webster bowed his head respectfully.

  “I’m game,” Keith said with a smiling nod. “What weapon can I take?”

  Dante stared at King, who seemed just as uncomfortable as he did. There was something cruel about this duel, as if Webster wanted to humiliate one of them through defeat. Well, it certainly can’t be me, Dante thought, immediately realizing that the other boy was thinking the same. Nobody will want to step out of this clearing defeated.

  “I’ll allow you to take those,” Webster pointed, indicating a row of wooden staffs on a weapons rack, “And of course, your own powers.”

  Excited whispers reached Dante’s ears, and his eyes widened. He was incredulous.

  “I object,” he said quietly, causing Webster to take a step closer and look down at him.

  “I don’t care if you object. The students deserve a demonstration from the four of you — highly powerful and skilled students. The fight stands: you’re allowed the staffs and your powers. Remember, non-lethal attacks please. I will personally make sure you pay for it if someone gets too hurt.” Webster paused, lifting his hands. “Grab your weapons. You will fight in the arena.”

  “What arena?” King snapped.

  “This arena.” The ground beneath their feet began to rumble, and the soil shook as something began to emerge from beneath it. Students jumped out of the way as sinkholes formed around them, swallowing the earth they’d just been standing on. Webster’s eyes were closed shut, and his brow was tensed with concentration as he summoned a structure out of the ground itself, although it took a few more seconds to materialize.

  The arena emerged suddenly, bursting from the earth like a submarine surfacing from the deep. It was made of rock and framed with the roots of trees reaching several feet above the ground like a great platform. A short flight of stairs descended from it, and finally, Webster lowered his hands and opened his eyes once more.

  “Grab your weapons,” he repeated, and only now did Dante and the rest recover from their awe.

  The Healer was first to the weapons rack, and he realized that while each staff was identical in shape and size, they all weighed differently and felt unique with each swing he took. They went from heaviest to lightest, and Dante decided on the third one, feeling the most comfortable with it. It was light, but not too light to feel weak in his hands.

  The other three grabbed their own weapons without even testing them; King chose the heaviest staff, and Beth the one next to it. Keith pulled down the lightest of the wooden poles, and Dante watched him spin it expertly around and above him.

  “Ah, haven’t used one of these in ages, man,” he thought out loud. “Yer gonna enjoy this, Dante boy.”

  The four students returned to the arena, climbing the stairs purposefully and standing across from each other in their pairs. Silas Webster stood in the middle and looked to each pair with expectation. His gaze lingered on Dante for an instant longer than the rest, and the Healer knew he was being judged on a much more personal level than his ally or opponents.

  “Keep it respectful, but keep it entertaining as well, thanks. We’ll discuss the winnings later.” He walked to the edge of the platform and stopped. When he turned, a half-smile on his face, he gave the word with a click of his fingers. “Begin.”

  If the fight had been a standoff, Andrew would have won it.

  Keith fell to one knee, groaning as he fought off King’s burst of power until the Dreamweaver sent the young boy to sleep in a single sweep of his hand. His resistance ended a moment later, and he slumped forward onto his face.

  Cheers erupted from all around as Dante was immediately surrounded by both Dreamers, their staffs raised and ready to strike him.

  “It’s already over,” Beth muttered, pointing the tip of her weapon at him in a menacing fighting stance. With no warning, the girl known as Liquidus shot forward and crossed the arena platform in an instant, spinning her staff towards Dante’s head as she moved.

  Clack. Dante blocked and rolled in the direction of the blow, absorbing the next attack with effort and recovering his balance a moment later. Clack.

  Dante turned at one point, briefly looking around to find his other foe before it became too late. Andrew stood to one side, simply watching as Beth followed up with a series of attacks that forced the Healer to return his attention to the fight at hand. The girl’s grin was spreading wider as she attacked, each of her strikes reaching ever so further into Dante’s space.

  “Oof,” he grunted as the point of her staff punched his jaw to one side. He only barely evaded her next attack, stepping free of the onslaught. He rubbed his face and glanced from enemy to enemy. Beth was breathing heavily, but she had a look of triumph on her face showing just how optimistic she felt about the fight.

  Suddenly, King spoke up.

  “Why are you holding back?” he asked, sneering at Dante, “Do you think we’ll have mercy if you don’t fight your best? Or is there something else? Are you disrespecting Liquidus?”

  Webster’s eyes almost shone as he stared at Dante from one side, and the Healer knew that he was waiting to see what unfolded. The Healer shrugged slightly and lifted an apologetic hand.

  “Perhaps. I don’t think it would be fair if I even dared use my abilities against the likes of you.”

  “You little shit,” Andrew said furiously, finally dropping his calm façade as he stepped forward. If Beth was good with a staff, King was amazing. He didn’t use it to stab, but to slash. A series of attacks came at Dante, and he was barely able to deflect them, noticing movement behind him before he’d finished protecting himself.

  Clack. He caught Beth’s attack and kicked out, sending her tumbling back as he sidestepped Andrew’s strike — although the staff managed to clip his face as it flew past. Dante abandoned all pretensions of holding back and sprinted forward after Beth. He took advantage of his momentum and stabbed forward with the staff, clenching his jaw and exhaling as the wooden point shot forward through the air and straight into her chest—no, impossible. The tip of the weapon went right through Beth’s form, and Dante stumbled. The girl laughed, materializing to one side of the Healer and stabbing him in the back with her staff before Andrew drove the point of his own into Dante’s forehead.

  The Healer was knocked back several feet, and he felt something wet dripping down his face from the point of impact. Blood.

  “That was a nice try, at least,” Beth mocked, before turning and spinning her staff around, slamming it down and hitting the platform as Dante danced away. “Better than your pathetic display at the mess hall,” she
laughed. Dante felt his anger flare, but King was already crossing the arena.

  Dante rolled across the platform and placed his hand on Keith’s neck as Andrew chased him, slicing the air between them with savage strikes. Beth managed to clip Dante’s ankle from behind, and the Healer tripped and fell onto his back, receiving a sharp blow to the face once he was down. Andrew brought the staff crashing down heavily onto his chest a moment later, and Dante gasped in pain.

  “We don’t have to put your life in danger,” King said quietly, referring to Webster’s earlier words, “But we can make it hurt a lot…”