by Angela White
Marc trailed the three women, observing guards and camp members. It should have felt wrong to be left in the rear, but he was smart enough to know that he was witnessing one of the proudest moments of Angela’s new life. The happiness flowed from her, reaching out to calm those she passed.
No longer fighting the pull, Marc sent out his own wave of light, as he had with Cynthia when she’d come from Adrian’s arms. Angie wanted the camp settled down so that the mission teams could do the same. He would help.
Adrian also understood that Marc was now on board, but he couldn’t help a faint twinge of envy as the new couple went by him. They were the future. He was the past.
8
Kyle and Jennifer made the short walk from the medical camper with slow steps. She’d just found out that twins, at least, were in store for her. John wasn’t sure exactly how many heartbeats he’d heard.
Aware of Eagles and camp members watching them, Kyle still couldn’t stop stealing glances at Jennifer. In his robe, she was all soft brown hair and pale white skin that smelled even better than Angela’s vanilla.
Across the QZ, a group of former slaves was talking with a few of the camp women who were lingering on the other side of the caution tape. The way their cruel glances stayed on him and Jennifer told him what the topic was. It wouldn’t take long for this to get out of hand.
Jennifer, who was picking up the mistrust of the men and the dislike of the women, sent out a wave of distress.
Kyle stopped, turning to her. “Yes?”
He waited, dazed, for her order.
Jennifer pulled back, realizing she had hit him too hard. She was getting more food and energy, and her gifts were already stronger.
Now that she wasn’t pushing that bright light, Kyle could think again, and it only took a few seconds of replaying his thoughts to discover what had upset her.
“You don’t have to do that, pull me in that way. I won’t abandon you.”
While she stared at him in concern, Kyle strained to build the mental block that Angela had told him about.
Jennifer slipped into Kyle’s mind, needing to know if he meant it, and found a small stack of bricks. He was building a wall against her.
Cute. He didn’t understand, yet, that there was no barrier strong enough to keep her out.
Jennifer dropped her empty water bottle on the ground, and Kyle frowned.
Jennifer looked at him questioningly, and Kyle glanced toward the slowly burning garbage can they were closest to.
Understanding these people took care of their trash; Jennifer retrieved the bottle and tossed it into the can. She automatically glanced to Kyle for approval.
Plans and terrible ideas began forming in Kyle’s mind–one of which he immediately tested.
“Good girl.”
Jennifer smiled at that–not a grin of contentment, but a grimace of familiarity that had Kyle snapping his head toward the tents. She had a weakness. She was conditioned to respond like a slave. He could use that. But I won’t. I’m not like him.
“All men are like him,” Jennifer corrected gently, snooping. “It’s why the world fell.”
“I’m not. I serve the greater good.” Kyle ripped his attention from her light. What would Adrian do with this one? Unlike Angela, Jennifer would use her gifts to get what she wanted.
Unless someone takes charge of me...
Jennifer’s voice in his mind was young and lost.
I don’t want to be bad.
Kyle was snared, but not for the reasons Jennifer assumed. He heard the evil behind the manipulation and responded–it was an echo of his. Adrian had almost passed him by. Kyle had always known and the wound had never healed. What would Adrian do with Jennifer? Would he curb her light until she could control it? Would he recognize her value the way he had with Angela?
That thought was ugly. Jennifer, who’d clearly already been through too much, could be the next female Eagle lying in a deserted warehouse with bullet holes and lighter burns. No!
“Women can be fighters here?”
Kyle groaned at the eagerness. Damn it! Adrian would put her to use as soon as he could.
“Yes.” Before she could comment, Kyle blurted the first distracting question he thought of. “Does Cesar have a lot of kids?”
“No,” she responded angrily. “They keep turning up dead. He thinks it’s his men trying to take control, but their mothers made the choice. They’d rather their children were smothered than to have them live as slaves.”
“Cesar’s the father?”
“...yes.”
Jennifer didn’t know for sure who the father was, him or the Kelly brothers, but the odds on Cesar were the highest.
Not calling her on the evasion he picked up, Kyle let his thoughts run where they wanted as he stopped by the door of a large camper.
“This isn’t a tent,” Jennifer protested, reminded of the semi she had called home for so long.
“This is my new place, haven’t even slept in it yet. Help yourself.” Exhaustion was pulling at Kyle. He opened the door for her and pointed to a large green tent. “I’ll be in the canvas across from here.”
He left before she could protest or thank him, and after a minute, Jennifer climbed inside, closing and locking the door with a flash of pain. She hadn’t been inside walls of any kind except a semi since the war and she’d never touched that door.
Jennifer noticed the dome light over the small stove. They’d had one like that at home–before the war had destroyed her hope.
A thick layer of homesickness, of grief, swept over the teenager, crushing her. She sank into a chair and didn’t try to stop the tears that came.
Kyle got a change of clothes from the pre-stocked tent and went to the showers, glad no one else was there. All of the women and kids had been checked out by the doctors, cleaned up, fed, and given a place to sleep and wait for their test results. Kyle hoped they were resting comfortably, but doubted many were. Being freed physically was a lot easier than escaping mental prisons.
Like the graves waiting for him to pay his respects, and the men waiting for comfort on their future as Adrian’s top team. Kyle planned to do those things as soon as he’d had some sleep. He would still cover his duties, but his heart was no longer in them. He only wanted one thing now.
Kyle stayed in the water for a few minutes over the time limit, letting the water beat on his tired, sore muscles. His body was ready to sleep for about twelve hours, but his mind was racing. He was going over it, planning it all out, but one thing mattered more than anything else.
What if she doesn’t want me, even after I give my all?
When Angela grilled him, Kyle would say the expected thing–he would let her go. But he’d known, lying there with Jennifer’s big stomach moving against his hip last night, drawing out hidden longings, that it was a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep. If Jennifer couldn’t love him, he would have to leave Safe Haven or ask Adrian to handle it. Come boots or bullets, she wouldn’t ever be held against her will again–not even by him.
9
Uneasy, Marc studied the medical camper through his scope, waiting for Angela to come out. Kyle and Jennifer had been gone for a while, and Anne too, leaving Samantha and Cynthia to restlessly prowl the QZ.
Angela had insisted on stopping in, and with her multiple guards, Marc hadn’t argued about leaving her there while he took his shift. He’d expected her to come right back out.
“Should have known better,” he muttered. Wasn’t she in pain? It had only been days since she’d been shot. She shouldn’t even be… Marc keyed his mike. “Rookie to the medical camper.”
“I’ve got it.”
Cynthia sounded like she’d been looking for an excuse to check on Angie. He spotted the reporter a second later, coming around the corner of the camper.
She wasn’t far away to get here that fast, he thought, pleased.
The good vibe faded as radios crackled, “John to the medical camper! Now!”
Angela opened her eyes to see several people frowning down at her.
Realizing what had happened, she groaned, “Shit.”
“Yep,” Adrian agreed. “You are hereby relieved of all duties until cleared by John.”
“And that’s going to be awhile,” John muttered, washing her blood from his hands for the fourth straight day. “You’re gonna heal even if it kills you.”
“Thank you.”
Marc’s gratitude drew agreement from the rest of the worried people in the room. Charlie, Cynthia, and Samantha had refused to leave.
Angela let out a harsh sigh, too weary to fight. Her top stitch had come out again as Kyle left with Jennifer, and she’d tried to replace it herself. She had passed out during the procedure, and left a bloody mess to walk into.
“Okay,” Angela conceded wearily. “You’re the boss.”
Adrian felt the heavy weight of the last months begin to ease, and turned toward the door, thinking he could probably sleep now. “Yes, I am.”
Part Two
Challenge:
A task or situation that tests someone’s abilities.
Chapter Six
The Younger Generation
May 27th
Near Hutchinson, Kansas
1
“Ugh!”
On duty outside, Marc listened to the muffled grunt with a hardened heart. After two weeks, he was handling Angela’s pain better. John had just checked her wound and headed for the QZ camper, where they now did the things that required access to heat or water. A convenient upgrade, it made things much faster when testing the new arrivals.
“Uh!”
Marc still winced at the second low moan Angela couldn’t smother while she dressed.
“Did you take a pill yet?”
Anne’s voice sounded strained to Marc. He was sure the nurse wanted something.
“No.”
“I think half of one of these would be all right, then.”
Marc heard the sound of a bottle rattling.
“If you think it’s okay, that would be nice.”
The edge of submission, of being in agony and knowing relief was finally coming, had Marc knocking back his anger again. He hated it that Angie had been reduced to surrender, that she was hurting and he couldn’t help.
“Spit it out,” Angela’s voice demanded weakly.
There was a pause, and then a soft snort.
“Brady is mine, not John’s or Adrian’s. He won’t carry tales.”
Marc grinned. So much for eavesdropping.
Anne’s answer was so low that Marc had to replay it to understand what she’d said.
“Will you help me become an Eagle?”
“Yes.”
“The men won’t like it.”
“No.”
“It’ll be hard for the camp, too.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I can?”
“Anne…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, control it.”
Marc heard Anne sigh.
“I’m not sure about doing this.”
“I know.”
“Then why would you–”
“Because you need to survive. They all do.”
Marc saw John look his way and met the man’s gaze with sympathy. Despite being here all this time, John still didn’t realize how fully Adrian meant the word we. It encompassed every living, breathing member of his herd.
Charlie.
It was a thought Marc hadn’t allowed until now, but it was obvious what would happen. Charlie would be in Adrian’s army, too.
“I already am.”
Charlie came from the shadows, looking much better than he had before they’d defeated the slavers. Keeping Matt’s betrayals to himself hadn’t been easy.
Marc didn’t scold him for not revealing the duty sooner, only slung an arm around his son’s shoulders. “We’ll get through it, boy–together this time.”
Charlie closed his eyes, absorbing his father’s light, his comfort. Having a dad meant a lot. Before, when he’d had Kenn, he hadn’t cared one way or the other. Now that Marc was back, Charlie understood why his mom had grabbed him and refused to let go even at so young an age. Marc was goodness and light, more so than Adrian was, and Charlie already knew the difference in that power. Society might need hard, ruthless men, might follow them willingly during times of crisis, but most humans would give unflinching loyalty to those they could trust during peace. Marc would have been that type of leader.
“How long have you been in Adrian’s secret service?” Marc asked casually.
“Almost since the beginning.” Charlie didn’t feel the need to keep hiding it. “He has this way of drawing you in.”
Charlie looked up at his father’s frowning profile, speaking low so his voice wouldn’t carry. “He wants her. As much as you do. I’ve read it.”
Marc winced, arm dropping to his side. Had he really been hoping that only he and Adrian would know? “She’s not interested.”
Charlie wasn’t able to get directly into his mom’s thoughts–she had them locked against his tinkering and prying–but he’d caught flashes that concerned him.
“Would you like proof?” Marc asked, hoping Angela was still too weak to pick up this conversation. Some parts of her injury were convenient.
The teenager nodded, bracing for a memory, but Marc only leaned down and whispered, “She calls for me in her sleep.”
It was simple, but the heat behind it had the boy recoiling.
“Yuck!”
Marc smirked. “That’s good information for a man to have about the woman he wants.”
Marc noted a whirl of dust rising near the QZ, and mentally calculated how long before senior Eagles would move closer. That much dust meant more than one or two cars.
Charlie stored the words and asked, “You got anything else like that? Stuff I could use now?”
As much as he wanted to, Marc didn’t grin. “Sure. Depends on what you’re searching for, though.”
“There’s no one I like that way, just curious about reading them, like you a–”
Charlie’s head suddenly snapped toward the incoming trucks.
Marc adjusted the volume on his radio, gut suddenly boiling. Wanting to know how Angela really was, he’d turned it down when he took up a position outside her tent so that he could listen to her conversations with John and Anne.
“I’m warning you, we will open fire!” Mitch’s frantic voice echoed over the radio.
Marc’s free hand went to his holster.
“Uh-uh.” Charlie’s eyes grew foggy as he stared at the four trucks now speeding recklessly around the west entrance to the QZ. “Not good.”
“What is it?” Marc asked calmly, as if he were training a recruit. He forgot to use the Alpha tone he’d learned with Angela, not accustomed to handing Charlie as a descendant.
Charlie went that way as if being drawn by strings, ignoring Marc and everyone else.
Need you! Marc called. His worry made the connection easy to find.
Angela came from the tent behind Marc in concern and nearby camp members surged her way. Aware that she was off-duty, they demanded her attention and Marc quickly took her right.
“Stop at the tape!” Mitch ordered over the radio, sounding sober and scared.
Marc was glad to see Adrian come from his tent and head toward the QZ, after a fast glance to verify that Angela was protected. She had heard the message, but Adrian had been the desired recipient. Marc wasn’t leaving Angela’s side yet. The last time he’d allowed that, she’d almost died.
Marc slid a gentle arm around Angela’s waist. “Easy, folks,” he cautioned, warned. “Let her breathe.”
Eager to find out what had pulled their son, the couple deflected the crowd’s excited well wishes as quickly as they could, both casting anxious glances toward the now over
-guarded Zone. The sense of trouble was clear.
2
The QZ was now a permanent fixture in the back corner of the camp–outfitted with a shower and bathrooms, a supply truck, and three extra guards that moved closer as the new people neared. Off-duty Eagles also picked up on the unease, and a full complement of men waited in that deadly V formation as the trucks finally stopped at the tape in a wide spray of gravel and dust.
Charlie went straight to Adrian’s right, not waiting to be called over. While his mom recovered, this was his job. It hadn’t been made official yet, but the teenager knew where his place was.
The scruffy newcomers got out of the trucks with their hands near weapons and wolfish leers slanted across their sore-riddled mouths.
“Well ain’t this a sight!” the largest among them exclaimed, hands resting on double holsters. “It’s gonna be a good day, Badger!”
The men getting out of their dusty trucks around him cackled at the reference to the old world, at his scornful joke.
“Told ya I saw a lot of lights last night,” one of the other six men–Badger–exclaimed eagerly, mouth crawling with scurvy. His hand twitched restlessly as he waited, but his eyes stayed on his boss.
The man in charge broke away from his group, strolling toward Kyle, who was in the front of the V, Glock in hand.
“I’m sure glad to find a group this size,” the man leered, sharp glance going over what he could see of the camp. “Thought there wasn’t any survivors ‘round here that we hadn’t supplied yet!”
The traders wore guns that Kyle guessed had seen a fair amount of use from the way they were slung low and ready. These were killers. But you’re not trained, he observed, seeing how the men left themselves open as they swaggered closer. Not like me and mine are.
“This is a military refugee camp. State your business!” Kyle ordered, tone dangerously unfriendly.