Winter's Legacy: Future Days (Winter's Saga Book 6) (5 page)

6  The Prodigal Son

Evan’s mother was waiting for him in the living room.  Theo was snoring softly as he sat up on the sofa beside her wheelchair.  His reading glasses were still sitting at the tip of his nose though his head had fallen back.  A
U.S. news magazine had slipped from his fingers into his pajama-clad lap.

Margo looked up from her book to watch her son open the fridge and grab a cold bottle of water before coming into the room.

“Evan, thank God you’re home.  I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Evan mumbled as he sat in the chair opposite his mother and began carefully peeling the label off the bottle in his hand.

“You look exhausted,” she frowned, peering through the dimly lit room at the dark circles around his eyes.

“I am.”

“Listen, what we need to talk about can wait until morning.  Why don’t you get some sleep?”  She took a moment to breathe deeply then added, “Maybe we all just need a good night’s sleep.”

“Okay,” Evan moved to stand.  He had planned to sleep in the bathtub thinking that there were fewer flammables there but before he turned away he heard his mother’s voice.

“Evan?” 

“Yes, ma’am?”  He answered respectfully out of habit.

“Would you help me into bed?”

Evan was taken aback.  He hadn’t expected his mother to trust him to be near her as he hadn’t touched her since the day he showed her he was a fire starter. 

As he thought, his mother began to fidget with the corner of her book and gnaw on her lip.  “You don’t have to, Evan.  Theo can help me.”  She moved her chair to scoot closer to the sleeping doctor to wake him.  “It’s just his back has been bothering him lately.  He really shouldn’t be sleeping like this on the sofa, but he didn’t want me waiting alone for you out here.”  She was chattering through her sadness, just trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.  It made Evan realize he was the cause of her uneasiness, just as he was probably the cause of Kylie’s earlier.

Man, your people skills are seriously lacking,
he thought.  “No, it’s okay Mom.  I’ll help you, no problem.”

He moved to unlock her wheels and tried not to notice the soft smile and adoring brown eyes in front of him.  He turned to wheel her back to her bedroom, the same room in which he’d torched a chair a couple weeks ago. 

With a glance, he noticed his mother had replaced the chair with a new beige one. 

“I’m sorry about your chair,” he mumbled, feeling like the heel he was. 

“Oh, it was time to get a new one anyway.  This one reclines, which helps me sit so I give my backside a rest, distributing my weight more evenly on my spine.  I’m thankful to have it.”  His mother’s very human admission made Evan feel even worse about the way he’d treated her lately.

“Um, right.  Bathroom first?”

“Good idea,” she said turning the chair toward the restroom and wheeling herself in.  “I’ll just be a minute,” she called over her shoulder.

“Take your time, Mom,” Evan said, his hands shoved deep
ly in his pocket. 

A photo album was lying open on the nightstand beside the bed.  Without thinking, he moved toward the album, reached out and picked up the thick book.  There, front and center, was a picture of the three
kids and a puppy-sized Maze.  Evan couldn’t help but smile at the look of pure happiness on everybody’s face, so oblivious of the danger they would soon encounter.  He turned the page and saw several pictures of a very photogenic Maze, panting widely in the Texas sun making him look as if he were grinning for the camera.

Page after page of the three kids and a younger, more vibrant Mom grinned back at him.

“Those were simpler days.” Margo’s voice startled Evan, so engrossed in the memories the pictures were bringing to life.

Evan glanced at his mother then back at the picture of Alik, Meg, Maze, Mom and himself smiling for a timer-set camera.  They were all squinting into the bright sunlight, perched on top of the pasture’s fence waving at the camera without a care in the world.

“Yes, they were,” he finally responded.

“No matter what, Evan, we are family.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Margo sighed deeply as she rolled her chair closer to the bedside where Evan towered over her. 

“I love my family,” she said softly.

“I do, too.” Evan blinked several times, trying to whisk away the moisture building in his bloodshot eyes.

“I would do it again, Evan.”  Margo reached out for his hand encouraging him to sit at the edge of the bed.

The warmth of her hand on his sent unsettling images to Evan’s mind, but his gift of precognition was so hit
or miss, he pushed the images away. 

Why can’t I have more control over my visions?
He scowled at himself for the hundredth time.

“Would you, Mom?  Don’t you have any regrets?” If Evan were honest with himself, he would admit a truck-load of regrets. 

“None.  Everything happened on God’s time, in his way.  We enjoyed twelve quiet years, years to prepare for battle, to strengthen our family’s foundation, to solidify us as his soldiers.”

“Do you think h
e’s still listening to my prayers, or have I slipped too far away?”  Evan’s voice was just above a whisper.  His eyes were locked on a picture of his mother and him as a little boy making faces into the camera.

“You haven’t slipped too far away.  He’s listening.  But, as the saying goes, ‘The teacher is always quiet during the test’.”

“I feel so lost, Mom.”

“I know you do.”

“I think I screwed up everything.  It’s all my fault.”

“I have every faith you did the best you could with the information you had at the time.  No matter what, Evan, you are human.  We’re all beautifully fallible and imperfect.  Just keep your eye
s and heart to heaven, walk in his light and know, even when he’s silent, he’s walking right beside you.”

Evan felt a wave of frustration.  “This is just too much, Mom.  I can’t do this on my own.”

“You’re not supposed to, Son.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice—that’s the amazing truth he gave us.  We always have a choice.”

“You don’t understand,” Evan growled and tossed the album on Theo’s side of the bed.

“I know enough,” Margo nodded slowly, looking ten years older than she should.  “I know God gave you a family that loves you.  He gave you knowledge and ability.  He gave you a conscience and an undeniable need to see that good prevails over evil.”

“Mom, what if I fail?”

“I love you no matter what, Evan Winter.  Nothing you could ever say or do would stop me from loving you.  Nothing.  And if you need to test me on that, go right ahead.  I have learned to be a patient woman. I will wait for you.”

Margo raised her hands out to Evan who wanted nothing more than to crawl into her lap a
nd feel her arms around him like he did as a little boy, but he was too big for that. 

I
nstead, he carefully wrapped his arms around his mother and lifted her out of her wheelchair.  He sat at the edge of her bed, set her in his lap and curled himself around her, as though shielding her from the darkness around them.

“I’m so sorry for everything.  I love you, Mom.”

“I know you are, and I love you more, Evan.”

7  Family Ties

Evan had just finished getting his mother all settled in her room.  His exhausted legs carried him to his bedroom where he walked directly to his tall chest of drawers.  He opened the second drawer from the top and reached up to grasp something duct taped to the bottom of the drawer above.  He sighed deeply with relief when his hand found it right where he’d left it the day before.  A quick yank and he freed a hard-shelled, black case designed to hold sunglasses.  He popped the case open and stared down at the results of all his hard work at the lab’s workbench. 

A lot of good these will do me without the vials,
he silently chastised. 

With a heav
y sigh, Evan closed the case and shoved it deep into the front pocket of his jeans.  He looked at his pillow longingly but forced himself to do one last thing before lying down. 

He returned to the living room to
wake Theo so he could go sleep more restfully in his bed.

“Dr. Andrews?”
Evan shook his shoulder gently for the second time trying to rouse him from a deep sleep.  This time, Theo snorted then opened his eyes wide enough to squint up at Evan for a moment before sleep backed off and allowed recognition to rise to the surface.

“Evan?” He looked around the room.  “Where’s your mother?”

“I already helped her to bed, sir.  It’s pretty late.  You’ll probably want to join her.”

Theo stood on stiff legs and immediately put his arm around Evan’s shoulder.  “It’s good to have you home, Ev.”  His guy embrace was completely unexpected.  Evan regretted standing stiff and unresponsive until it was too late and the doctor had stepped away.

“Did you apologize to your mother for acting like an ass?”  Theo asked matter-of-factly.

“Yes, sir.”  Evan lowered his eyes.

“Good.  I imagine Margo was thrilled to see you, Son.”  He spoke over his shoulder as he shuffled toward the hallway, his joints popping in defiance.

“I think she was.” Evan nodded subtly.  “I’m pretty sure the other kids won’t be quite as welcoming.”

Theo stopped shuffling and turned back to look at Evan thoughtfully.  “You know the best thing about family, Evan?  We are at our strongest when we are together.  The other kids know that.  I would venture to bet our Meg knows that, too…somewhere deep down.  So, no, don’t expect to be welcomed home, Ev, ’cause as far as we’re concerned, you never left.”  He smiled a tight-lipped smile then nodded once before turning away with a wave over his head.

Evan stood in amazement at his words. 

“G’night, Son.” Theo added before turning to his room where the love of his life lay sleeping. 

Theo stopped to use the restroom before washing up and walking around to his side of the bed.  His foot hit something heavy.  Sleepily, he reached down to retrieve what he already knew to be the Winter Family’s photo album.  By the soft light of the street lamp spilling into the room, he opened the book and landed right at the photo of Evan and his mother hamming it up for the camera. 

Theo sighed heavily, placed the photo album on his bedside table and moved back to the edge of the bed.  He knelt with only the cushion of his thin pajama pants to buffer his knees from the hard tile floor.  In the silence of the night, he prayed for his family.

8  No Rest for the Weary

Back in the living room, Evan was still standing in the same spot, rubbing the stubble on his chin deep in thought when Alik stepped quietly into the room wearing pajama bottoms, a white T-shirt and sneakers with no socks.

“Do you hear that?” he whispered to Evan.

Creed was right behind Alik.  He’d yanked on a pair of worn blue jeans over his boxers.  “I hear it,” he growled.  He’d taken an extra moment to slip on unlaced boots and grab his bedside firearm of choice.  The black Glock glistened even in the dim light of the Winters’ humble home. 

Cole walked in behind Creed, rubbing his face trying to wake up.  “Is this a drill or for real?” he whispered.

Evan looked over at the three boys and squinted through exhausted eyes.  He forced himself to listen. 

He heard nothing—no noise at all. 

Not a cricket or bird. 

Not a car
or motorcycle. 

Nothing.

“Shit, this is bad—” he started to whisper, eyes widening with a fresh rush of adrenaline despite his physical fatigue.

Farrow and Sloan bound
from their room.  Both girls had thrown on some clothes and were trying to quietly shove their feet into shoes.

Alik glanced at Creed armed and nodded as he walked on stealth feet to the gun cabinet.  No more words were exchanged.  Every metahuman stepped forward and geared up.  They’d discussed this before, and right about now, they were glad they’d
devised an emergency escape plan. 

They were no fools.  Their lives had been one attack after another.  Just because they were supposed to be in hiding didn’t mean they couldn’t be found.

Farrow and Sloan split up.  Sloan ran to Margo and Theo’s room to rouse them and get them loaded into the van.  Farrow ran to get Danny and Maze.  The boys took predetermined positions around the room, each quickly yanking the wooden barricades from where they’d been stowed since the family made them four months ago. 

Creed’s deft hands grabbed the electric screwdriver and had the window sealed inside twenty seconds.  He tossed the
tool to Cole, who repeated the process barricading his window.  Evan removed night goggles from the cabinet beneath the window he would secure and tossed a pair across the room to Creed.  Cole finished his window and threw the screwdriver to Evan who caught it fluidly with his right hand while he tossed another pair of glasses to Cole.  Evan was the last to secure his window, then slipped his own night vision glasses over his eyes and peered outside, gun in hand ready to defend his family. 

Creed was doing the same thing on his side of the room, fee
ling calm and deadly—as if he were finally home when an attack was imminent.  He was planting blocks of C-4 explosives in strategic load-bearing walls around the center of the house and setting up their timed detonators, but didn’t start their countdown just yet.

Alik had been gathering his mom’s purse, Theo’s wallet and the keys to the van.  He then moved to grab two thick satchels from the front closet and ran to the back of the house where the others waited anxiously to load up.  

One of the reasons Margo and Theo had chosen this house over others was because of its tactically desirable position at the top of a hill.  Also, it was close to two easily accessible highways making escape more likely.  And the last reason: This home was built by an American who was accustomed to the convenience of an attached garage. 

Alik moved with skilled calm.  He had the family loaded in the van and Theo ready to drive like a bat out of hell before the gunfire started.

As Alik was ducking out of the van, Danny reached up, wrapped his pudgy arms around his brother’s neck.  He kissed him on the cheek and whispered, “I love you, Alik.”

Margo’s angry face softened at the simple words from her not-quite four-year-old. 

“Love you, too big man. Take care of Mom for me,” he shrugged gently from his little brother’s arms and nodded to Theo.  One glance at his mother and he knew she’d slipped into soldier-mode.  Her gun cocked and loaded in her lap. 

“We’ll see you at the billboard,” she nodded tersely.  “Get yourself and the others there in one piece, Alik.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As the family watched Alik duck out of the van and run back into the house, Theo muttered, “I was hoping this night would never come.” 

“It’s always just a matter of time, Theo.  At least Evan’s here to help.”

Maze yawned nervous
ly, letting out a small squeak.  Danny patted his lap and smiled widely when the coydog carefully climbed to sit beside him. 

Farrow and Sloan were rechecking their weapons.  They were to provide cover fire in the event the van was followed by guns.  A quick gla
nce over at Sloan’s shaking hands had Farrow reaching out to check and load her weapon for her.  She handed it back to the young doctor carefully. 

“This is live, Sloan,” Farrow whispered.  “Do not raise that weapon unless you intend to shoot to kill.  There are no second chances.  Got it?” 

Sloan’s gray eyes were as wide as saucers, but she managed a nod. 

Alik ran back into the house and put his night vision glasses on before taking up his position.  His body was responding to the adrenaline—he was hulking out.  Without even looking, he knew his eyes were glowing violet as he forced himself to breathe slow, deep breaths.  The elastic on his pajama bottoms stretched to accommodate his expanding size.  He had to blink to clear his vision.  So rapid was his change; his eyes took a fraction of a second to focus. 

“Status?”  He breathed as quietly as he could.

“Movement in the east,” Evan whispered back.

“Looks like a freakin’ party in the west.” Cole’s anger was right at the surface.

“They are not screwing around if that’s what I think it is,” Creed growled.

“What do you see?” Alik moved to stand beside his brother at the front door.  Creed had shoved a heavy bookcase against it for coverage, but was peering through a crack in the side window. 

“Is that—
?”

“RPG! Duck and cover!” Creed yelled to the room.

All four boys landed on their bellies, ripped off their night vision glasses, rolled behind furniture and covered their heads.

The night was cut by a screaming knife as the rocket propelled grenade careened through the front door, igniting the pages of the books on the bookcase as it flew and exploded right above their heads.  The living room lit
with a burst of light. 

Evan leaped to his feet, having avoided the shrapnel blast, but wasn’t about to let this go unpunished.  Primal fury had him yelling into the blast of light.

“You want to fight?” he screamed into the ripped night.  He held his hand out to the flames and light bursting through the living room.  As if attached to a rope, the light jumped from the air and zipped directly into his outstretched, scarred hand. 

Alik, Creed and Cole looked on with awe as they watched from their prone positions.

“Leave my family the hell alone!”
Evan screamed and hurled the light right back where it came from.  The night sky lit up exposing the circus of soldiers clambering for cover as Evan’s blast rocketed back.  When it made contact, the boys could hear echoes of surprised screams. 

Dust was still billowing through the shattered front door when a barrage of gunfire attacked from the east and west corners of the house.  The simple yellow house with a wrap-around front porch was instantly peppered with bullet holes from no fewer than a half
-dozen automatic assault rifles. 

They knew better than to try to open their eyes much less move.  After Evan threw his return fire, he dove behind the nearest sofa and landed right beside his brother Alik. 

Crashing roars of bullets ripping the house to shreds were deafening.  Shattered debris from its wooden frame spun like shrapnel-shaped acrobats through the air.  Desperately trying to protect each other, the brothers locked forearms, all prior animosity forgotten in the heady breath of violence.

As quickly as the gunfire began, it halted leaving what looked like a war zone in its path. 

“No one better be dead or we are so screwed,” Cole muttered under his breath. 

“Ready for round two?” Creed whispered to the room.  The boys were peering around the torn furniture to get visual checks on everyone else.  Cole’s head was bleeding, but it looked like a simple flesh wound.  He gave a reassuring thumbs-up to the frowns he was getting from the others. 

On Creed’s queue, they began commando-crawling past the blocks of C-4 that hadn’t already detonated thanks to the RPG.  In their planning for this day, they knew they wanted to take out as many assailants as they could, so Margo had given Creed and Farrow free rein to make the plastic explosives when they first moved into the yellow house on the hill.  Evan was too badly injured at the time to be of assistance other than to watch them manipulate the compound and stabilizing agents with their smooth, undamaged hands. 

This is what Evan was thinking about when he heard a creak come from the hallway.  The boys were on the floor of the kitchen making their way to the garage door in the back of the house, as was their established plan.  They were always supposed to be the decoys, drawing the fire to the house while the rest of the family escaped.  Then everyone would meet at an old, abandoned billboard just off the highway 7.8 miles from the airport. 

That was the plan. 

The creak down the hall was not part of the plan.

Shit!
The boys collectively thought but remained absolutely silent and listening.

The boys stood and for a moment debated whether they should make a run for it or stay and fight it out.  Cole motioned to the back door.  The other three glanced at
each other and shook their heads, no.  Cole rolled his eyes in the dark, but nodded in agreement.

Creak.  Shuffle.

Creed spun his finger in the air and Cole and Evan scattered to the far corners of the room while Alik and Creed flanked either side of the pitch-black hallway.  They were all listening intently when someone on the opposing team crunched down hard on one of Danny’s forgotten toy cars. 

The footsteps came more quickly.

The boys steeled themselves for the onslaught.