The Legend (6 page)

 

chapter 7

M
ercifully, with each day that passes, I can feel my body becoming stronger. Michael is delighted with my progress on the track field, not letting me miss a day's training. He is getting far too into character, bossing me around like a drill sergeant. We are not deterred even when it rains, moving instead to the indoor track in the Field House. Kwan is slowly putting me through the motions of my original Taekwondo training and I am pleased that while I am nowhere near my former capability, it now takes Morgan at least ten seconds before she pins me to the floor.

I spend more time with Alex, and only with him do I let my guard down. Alex is my son, and I will not let my hatred of Kenneth Williams and NUSA destroy the one good thing left in my life. My relationship with Aidan, on the other hand, is deteriorating rapidly. I find that I am distancing myself from him more and more as the days go by, for numerous reasons. For the first time Aidan's weakness becomes apparent. Although Gifted with the ability to heal, Aidan is neither strong nor fast, and he is no fighter. I need to surround myself with only the strong and the powerful if I am to have any hope of winning this war. I am also irrationally starting to blame Aidan for my abilities not returning, as if he is rubbing off on me. Whenever I spend time with him, which is sometimes unavoidable because of Alex, I feel that he is weakening me, slowly breaking down my resolve. Being around Aidan makes me softer, more compassionate, and these are not qualities that will help me defeat NUSA. In fact, they are just the opposite – they could likely be my downfall.

Every now and then I catch sight of the Lakeside Five on the grounds, but they avoid us as far as possible. Adam tells me that they have their own section of the Academy and seldom venture out of it.

“They'll be glad to see the back of us,” he adds.

“When we take back the States they can have the Academy back, all to themselves.”

He sighs at this. “I just wish I could get through to them.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because they're people, Rebecca. Just like us. And we weren't designed to be alone. The Deranged are proof of that – look at what being abandoned and isolated has reduced them to. It's a slow descent into madness.”

“You can't force them to accept us, or to become a part of our community.”

“No, I can't. But hopefully I can convince them.”

Personally, I think that Adam is wasting his time, but I keep that to myself.

The raids continue but I barely monitor their progress, leaving this to the General. I have become obsessed with only one immediate goal: to find Jupiter and his lab, and convince him to Gift all our willing soldiers. Unfortunately, there is no way I can guarantee my success in reaching him if my Gifts do not return. David who, despite his strength, is more brains than brawn, with the added benefit of having been a chief engineer in the town planning office when he was still working undercover in Chicago, is working on a few ideas as to how we can access the States. I have a few ideas of my own that I have not yet shared with the others, but everything depends on how quickly I recover. Morgan suggested they head to Missouri without me, but I rebuked her loudly for undermining my authority.

“Bex,” my father's voice interrupts my musings. I am sitting alone in the dining hall, my empty plate on the table in front of me. I ignore the implication as my father glances around the crowded room and then at the empty chairs beside me. “Eating alone?”

“I'm meeting Kwan at the dojo in a few minutes,” I reply so that he knows that I am in a hurry.

“I'll be quick, then.” He takes a seat. “I wanted to talk to you about this morning's meeting.”

“What about it?” Nothing of particular interest had arisen this morning as far as I could recall. I narrow my eyes as I catch sight of Jenna and Chase entering the hall and my father swivels in his chair to find the source of my irritation.

“He hasn't done anything to intimate he can't be trusted.” His voice is reproachful.

“He hasn't done anything to prove otherwise either,” I retort. “But he can stay where he is for now. I have plans for Chase . . .”

“I don't even want to know.” My father shakes his head. “Now, about this morning. I wanted to talk to you about your conscription proposal.”

“What about it?” I am curious.

“Well, I think it's a bit extreme, for one thing.”

“We're at war, Dad, not a tea party.”

It is inevitable that he would disagree with my idea to force members of our community to enlist in the Legion. In fact, a few months ago I was dead set against the idea myself. The General thought of it first, but in my stubborn naivety I had refused even to consider his suggestion. The thought of forcing people to risk their lives appalled and disgusted me. But that was then. Now I know better. Without more Gifted soldiers we are doomed to fail – a few deaths are an acceptable collateral in order to save thousands.

“It's hypocrisy, Bex, plain and simple!” He raises his voice. Although I am not surprised that he disagrees with me, I am surprised by the level of anger radiating off him. “One of the basic premises that the Resistance is based on is free will. It was taken from us, and we want it back. How is forcing people against their will any different to what Eric Dane did . . . to what Kenneth is doing now?”

“Don't you dare compare me to that son of a bitch!” I hiss, my lip curled as my own anger threatens to boil over.

“Don't lose sight of our values, then.”

“The General agrees with me,” I say smugly.

“The General has always wanted us to take this line,” he snaps back, “which is precisely why he has never been in charge.” The implication of his words is like being doused in icy water.

“You're saying I'm not fit to lead the Legion?” My chest swells in outrage.

“I'm saying that your beliefs and values have always been what makes you the best person to lead us. My concern is that those values have changed, and if they have, where does that leave our people?”

“I will do what is best for everybody. I have to go. I'm late,” I add dismissively, getting to my feet.

Looking back, I should have known that I was being driven by pure primal instinct. Hate had replaced love as my primary motive, and anger was raging inside me. Nobody understood what I had been through, nobody had done more for the Resistance than I had, and yet here they all were, judging me, pointing out my flaws. Selfishly, I wanted to feel better. And I knew exactly what would make me.

“Tiny,” Reed opens the door and glances past me into the hallway. “What are you doing . . .?”

I don't allow him to finish the question. I didn't come here to talk. I grab fistfuls of his hair and pull him down towards me, at the same time forcing him back into the small dorm room, and kicking the door shut behind me. His jaw drops open in astonishment and I seize the opportunity to kiss him as hard as I can, letting the heady sensation fill my senses and drive out everything else. I can feel the moment that he hesitates, pushing me gently away, so I leap up and wrap my legs around him, pressing myself against his hard, lean body and tugging his shirt up his back. He stops resisting and the next few minutes are wild and fierce, punctuated by heat and sweat, and an almost animal-like frenzy. It is all over in a matter of minutes, my weakened body sore but sated.

Abruptly, I push myself off Reed, who for once seems at a loss for words. Unabashedly, I make my way around the room, retrieving my discarded clothing, and his eyes follow my every move. I am buttoning up my jeans when he finally finds his tongue.

“Not that I'm complaining, but do you mind telling me what that was about?”

“It was nothing.” I pull my vest down over my bare torso and his gaze finally lifts to meet my eyes, comprehension dawning.

“Nothing?” His voice is lower and I can hear the anger simmering just below his outward control. “I see . . . So I assume, then, that you don't want me mentioning this little episode to Braveheart?”

“If it would make you feel better, go right ahead,” I shrug, tying my sneakers. I feel rejuvenated, and I want to head down to the dojo to practise.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” I glance up at that, at the disbelief in his tone. “What game are you playing, Rebecca?”

“I'm not playing any game.”

“You've got the two of us dangling by a goddamned string,” he counters. “You say you don't want to be with either of us . . .”

“Aidan's been sneaking,” I snigger, recalling that I said this only to Aidan, but Reed continues, ignoring me.

“And yet you rock up at my door for a booty call.”

“You're over-thinking it.”

“We just made love!” I had given no thought to what he would make of my passionate assault, but obviously he is reading far more into it than I intended. I don't want to hurt him, but I also don't want him to make something of nothing. What I say next is intended to push him away, but it is still one of the worst things I have ever done.

“No, we didn't, Cowboy. I had an itch. You scratched it.”

Faster than ever, he launches himself from the bed and grabs me roughly by the shoulders.

“You little bitch,” he hisses, his hot breath on my face.

“Take your hands off me.” I meet his gaze head on, refusing to be intimidated. “That's an order.”

Looking disgusted, he drops his arms to his sides. “Is that what I am to you? Just another soldier in your Legion?”

“No,” I reply honestly, “you're more than that. I can't win this war without you.”

He nods sadly. “Your greatest asset.”

They are the same words he once teased me with when we were a couple. “Well, in that case, let me prove my worth.” He pulls on his jeans and T-shirt and then grabs me by my arm, his fingers biting into my skin, and marches me from the room.

“Where the hell are we going?” I grumble, as we emerge into a courtyard.

“The dojo.”

“What for? Ouch!” I add as he jerks me to the left, steering me around a corner.

“Well, seeing as all you care about is this war, the fact that you're about as much use to us as Sofia is something of a problem.” He uses Sofia as an example out of pure malice, trying to rile me. “I'm joining your training today,” he continues pleasantly, as the gymnasium comes into view. “Let's see if we can't make you ever so slightly less pathetic.”

 

 

chapter 8

“That's enough,” Kwan warns, as I hit the ground for the third time, this time with such force I almost black out. “You're going to hurt her, Reed.”

“Aw, I don't know about that. Can someone with no feelings get hurt?”

I have never seen Reed like this before, so brutally harsh, but I refuse to react.

“I said
enough
,” Kwan repeats.

“Yeah, you're right,” Reed brushes his hair out of his eyes. “It
is
enough. I'm joining the next raid, I'd better get going.” Without so much as offering me a hand to help me up, he walks out.

Kwan kneels beside me, and I pull myself into a sitting position.

“What did you do?” he asks seriously.

“Nothing!” I wince as pain shoots across my lower back. “He's just being melodramatic.”

“I don't believe that for a second. He's not that way inclined. Unlike you, he rarely shows his emotions.”

“You want me to feel sorry for him? My baby died – I think I've earned a little self-indulgence.”

“You seem to have forgotten that the child you lost belonged to him too.”

“I didn't lose her! She was murdered!” Kwan looks startled at my assumption that the child was a girl, but I pay no heed.

“He lost her too,” he continues calmly, ignoring my outburst. “And, worse still, he lost you.”

I get to my feet, collecting the Bo staff from its usual position next to the weapons shelves.

“Do you think you're ready for that?” Kwan asks, dropping the subject. Up until now, I have been practising with the Hanbo only.

“There's only one way to find out.”

I stand with my legs slightly apart, holding the Bo in both hands. Kwan is watching intently, and I close my eyes, wishing I was alone. Slowly, infinitely slowly, I start to twirl the Bo, the natural rhythm feeling comfortable and familiar. I focus only on the Bo, forgetting about everything else. Kenneth Williams' face is the hardest to force from my mind, but I grit my teeth and keep trying. I know I am allowing him to poison my life, even with so many miles between us. He is still controlling me, destroying me.

“No,” I hiss, “get out of my head!” Finally, he is gone and I feel a surge of relief. I have barely a second to appreciate it when Kwan gives a whoop of delight. I open my eyes and the Bo clatters to the floor, but not before I register that the long staff was whirling above me faster than my eyes could track.

“You did it!” Kwan picks up the Bo.

“I did it,” I breathe, conflicting emotions coursing through me.

Three days later, I only just make it to the meeting room in time, having left the dojo later than I anticipated. I am frustrated. My abilities are erratic – some days I am operating on full strength and others there is nothing but ordinary human capabilities.

“Kenneth has declared himself,” the General's voice oozes disdain and disappointment. “Joseph Hale has stepped down and Kenneth has officially been sworn in as President of the New United States.”

“I wonder what changed his mind,” my father muses.

“Well, obviously there's no point in hiding any more,” I bite out, “now that we know of his involvement. He was only ever trying to keep his identity from us to ensure that the Legion would not act against him. He wanted me to convince our army to join him so that he would be uncontested. Obviously, I refused.”

“Why couldn't we have joined forces?” Morgan asks. “Surely Kenneth can't be all bad – he was one of us for a long time. Why couldn't we have worked together?”

Michael rounds on his sister in astonishment. “Um . . . have you forgotten that he tortured Rebecca and almost killed her? He's a sicko!”

As gratifying as Michael's indignation on my behalf is, I explain it to Morgan.

“Kenneth wanted only the Legion, Morgan. Only our soldiers were valuable to him, because only they could ever oppose him. He wanted the rest of our community destroyed in order to protect the resources in the States and prevent our ideology spreading through NUSA.”

“Destroyed?” the General barks across the table and I nod in confirmation. Everyone else looks disgusted. It is the first time I have shared this piece of information with the council.

“Where is his new base?” I ask. I had destroyed the lab at the Dane Corp Plaza, and I doubted that Kenneth would operate from there now that the building had been structurally compromised.

“The Willis Tower, according to our sources,” the General replies. “But that's not the worst of it. One of our people has discovered intel that Williams wants to start up a new technology department specialising in weapons engineering.”

“But that's illegal! Eric Dane abolished traditional weapons when he created NUSA!”

“I doubt that Kenneth's plan is public knowledge,” my father interjects, “and besides, Bex, NUSA is an autocratic state – all the power rests in the hands of the President. Those who speak out will simply be exiled. Kenneth is going for the easier option. It would take years for him to rebuild the lab, whereas weapons will give him the same power, but in a faster time frame. Fortunately, it will take some months before he is ready to start testing.”

This is hardly comforting. As it is, we are outmanned by NUSA, but if Kenneth succeeds in creating military weapons, we will stand no chance.

“Where's McCoy?” the General asks, only now noticing Reed's absence.

“He's gone on a raid,” Kwan answers, studiously avoiding my eyes.

“When will he be back?”

“With any luck by this evening.”

“You mentioned you had a plan, Miss Davis?” The General finally addresses the reason that I called this meeting.

“Yes,” I affirm. “I'm going to take a team to Missouri to meet with Jupiter. I'm going to try to convince him to help us.”

It is a mark of how badly the General wants to increase the Legion's numbers that he does not press me for any details, save one.

“How do you plan on getting through the fences?”

“David is working on that.” I look to David and he nods.

“Your abilities . . .” the General trails off, looking uncomfortable, as though the topic is too sensitive to talk about in front of the others.

“. . . are returning slowly,” I finish his sentence.

“You'll need them if you plan on entering the States,” he points out wryly.

As I am leaving the meeting room I stop David near the door.

“Do you really think you can find us a way in?” I ask. Thus far he had not been very positive, although he has not let on to the council.

“I don't know,” he replies. “They'll be watching the rivers and waterways, now that they know they're a weak point.” Our last excursion into the States had been made via the Ottawa River. “I honestly don't know,” he mumbles again, deep in thought.

Disappointed, I turn to leave and then, on second thoughts, I round on him again. “David, I've been meaning to tell you – I want you in Kwan's training programme.”

“Why?” He looks startled. David has been Gifted with strength, but his physical fitness is severely lacking.

“Because you're out of shape,” I state bluntly, poking him in the soft spread of flesh around his middle. He flushes unbecomingly, but I do not apologise. There is no place on our team for David if he is not at his full physical potential.

I pop in to fetch Alex on my way to the track field. Unsurprisingly, Brooke is with him and she trails along.

“Can I train too?” Alex asks as he bounds along beside me. I agree, not really paying him much attention. Aidan's face at the door when I had collected Alex was darker than thunder, and he barely greeted me, seemingly preoccupied with something. I wonder idly if Reed mentioned what happened between us.

Michael is a few minutes late, so Alex, Brooke and I jog slowly around the track, warming up. Alex has learned to control his speed and is able to switch it on and off, unless he gets overexcited. When his speed had manifested, he hadn't been able to resist using it at school and initially some of the other children had reacted – teasing and taunting him out of jealousy and spite. Alex had tried to curb his Gifts and, surprisingly, it was Reed's significant presence in our lives that had helped him settle. Reed had spent a lot of time with Alex and provided a male figure that he could look up to, both of them having the Power of Three. Alex also paces himself so that Brooke can keep up. The two are inseparable, a poignant reminder of Aidan and me at that age.

By the time Michael arrives, Alex has reached the limit of his self-control and he immediately challenges Michael to a proper race. I laugh them away, focusing on my own running and forcing my body to test its own limits. With every circuit, I increase my pace slightly, keeping my eyes planted on the track before me. I keep doing this, over and over, delighted with the progress I am making but knowing that I have yet to reach my peak. Faster and faster, the ground streaking beneath my feet.

It is only when I hear Michael's pounding footsteps beside me that I look up. Michael's usual grin is nowhere to be seen. Instead, he has a look of fierce determination on his face, his cheeks are red, his eyes narrowed. He pumps his arms even harder at his sides and, like a lightning bolt, it hits me that Michael is struggling to keep up. Now I glance past him towards the stands which are nothing but a blur as I rocket past them. Laughing, I increase my pace again, and Michael falls behind, his frustrated yell echoing behind me. I am as fast as I ever was! My speed is back, finally.

After a few laps, I head for the stands to watch Alex and the others. My euphoria is a welcome change as I take a seat, a ridiculously smug grin on my face. Alex still has far too much energy to burn and Michael is sitting cross legged in the centre of the track, issuing instructions. Brooke is following Alex's lead, a few lanes across. I am so engrossed in the return of my speed that at first I miss it. It is only when Michael leaps to his feet that I realise something has happened. I follow the direction of his gaze to see Alex sprinting around the far track, so fast that he is almost impossible to discern. He is moving incredibly quickly but I still can't understand the gobsmacked expression on Michael's face. Until Alex takes my hand and squeezes it.

I glance down in bewilderment.

“She's doing good, isn't she, Mom?” he chirps, and suddenly the reason for Michael's shock becomes crystal clear. It's not Alex sprinting around the track. It's Brooke.