Battlefield (14 page)

“I'm taking that as a yes. You wouldn't know anything if you weren't.” Bean rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “I don't believe you're a bad guy either. If you plan on hurting her though, I'm going to have to stop you.”

He threw his hands up. “I don't want to hurt anyone. Yes, I work with someone who's interested in her, but I'm just here to help him. Stop doing this and walk away.” He pointed to the dying boy on the forest floor.

Bean shook his head and backed away. “You can't help him. It's too late. I'll walk away this time, but I can't promise it next. It's not as easy as you make it sound—whoever you are.” He watched JD for a moment longer before turning on his heel and bolting in the other direction.

JD knelt down to see what he could do for the helpless guy laying on the forest floor. He gagged for a moment at the smell and the sight. The boy was rotting while alive. Open sores and boils covered his skin, and he smelled like vomit and pus. He was feverish and shivering. JD didn't know what to do. He didn't want to touch him for fear of catching whatever was causing the infection.

“I'll figure this out. Just try to relax,” he said. They felt like vain words.

“Onion,” the boy managed.

What did an onion have to do with anything? He looked up in the direction Bean had run.
He did this, Bean made this guy comatose.
The teen's eyes were glossed over, and in theory he should have been in a lot of pain, but not once did he react to any of it. All he could talk about was onions.

JD stayed with him even after he died.

 

Meanwhile, Orlando held his ground against the girl with the vines. He'd laugh at her if he had time to. She couldn't get up, or rather, he wouldn't let her. He kept her pinned to the ground with his telekinesis, and he enjoyed it. Every time she moved a muscle, he'd give her a shove. Sometimes he'd let her get up just a little bit more to make her think she could win before pushing her again. He couldn't hold her continuously. Too much distraction surrounded him, but the small breaks were enough to help him regain the focus he needed.

“Stop it,” Sprout finally screamed.

Orlando scratched his chin. “Thinking, thinking, thinking. No.”

Sprout growled, her body going limp into the ground as she briefly gave up the fight. “You're a jerk.”

“And you're one to talk about moral character?” His eyebrow shot up. It couldn't be denied, but when did he ever care? Rarely, and he certainly didn't care about what this girl thought of him. Bad guys didn't have valid opinions. She deserved everything she had coming to her.

Blue eyes shimmering silver in the moonlight, she raised her head up. He learned the true meaning of “if looks could kill” just then, because she was glaring at him with a hatred he'd never seen before. “You don't get it, so I'd recommend shutting up.”

He returned her dark stare, determined to not let her best him. “Enlighten me then because I would like to comprehend why anyone in their right mind would justify murder.”

“You don't care, so why should I even bother to tell you?”

“How do you know I don't care? You don't know anything about me. Maybe if you plead your case well enough, I'll let you go. Doubtful, because I think you should be in jail, or maybe a mental hospital, but please feel free to try and persuade me anyway.” He relaxed and let her at least change position before returning his hold on her. Crouching down so he was at more of her level, he still kept his distance and a great deal of it. Orlando wouldn't put it past her to do something sneaky.

Sprout had enough space to prop herself onto her knees. It didn't look like a comfortable position, but it beat eating the dirt constantly. She took a moment to wipe her face clear and adjust a few fallen golden strands of hair.

“Thinking, thinking, thinking. No.”

Orlando rolled his eyes, more with amusement than annoyance. “How original. Tell me, did you think of that one all on your own?”

“I had a little help.” Her eyes met his, and she smirked.

“I'm guessing the answer is no because you can't actually do it. There is no justification,” he said in a rather desperate effort to regain the lost ground.

“You might be surprised.”

He might be if he ever gave her the chance to explain. “Let me guess, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he should have kept to himself? It's his fault, and he deserves what's coming to him. He brought it on himself. This whole situation is bigger than my pathetic mind could ever imagine. Let me see how many other clichés I can think up here.”

Sprout sat back on her haunches. “Try none of the above. I'm not some common criminal. I'm doing the right thing.”

“You're pathetic.” Orlando's nose wrinkled in disgust. He didn't need to hear her side of the story. She was delusional. She had to be to think something like that.

“I'm pathetic? Do you even know what you're fighting for?”

He stood again, stepping forward and standing over her. “You're also stupid.”

She gained a bit more wiggle room, but he soon remedied that by knocking her down to the ground again. “I'd shut up if you know what's good for you.”

Before he could even think about what he was saying, the words were flying out of his mouth. “Make me. I doubt you could. You're weak and worthless.”

Her fingernails dug into the ground, and she growled. Orlando could have sworn the trees growled with her. A low rumbling surrounded him, and the trees shook like the wind passed through them, but there was barely a breeze. He strengthened his stance in anticipation. He should have been looking down.

The ground shifted, and the roots of the trees began to protrude from the dirt, one right under his feet. He stumbled and barely missed another. What he did miss were the vines coming right at him. One wrapped around each of his ankles and pulled him down. Then they came for his wrists and tied him to the forest floor. He didn't bother to struggle.

“I've heard of some interesting things before, Sprout, but I think this is the icing on the cake,” he said in an effort to defuse the situation.

“You wish,” she said. He could hear her standing, and he could feel the vines tightening against his skin. His fingers and toes started to go numb. She appeared in front of him, staring down.

“So what are you going to do with me, princess? Add me to your list? Give me the ax?” The thought of dying scared him to no end, but he wouldn't let her see it. Keeping his confidence high would be the only thing to get him out of this situation. He didn't believe she would kill him anyway. It didn't feel like a natural solution for her, only a last resort, and they weren't at that spot yet.

She ignored him. “I bet you don't think I'm so worthless right now—or weak.”

So that's what made her so mad. Girls and their self-esteem issues. He would never understand them. “I think you need to get some therapy.”

A loud rushing sound filled the air, and the area glowed with a red light. Orlando could vaguely make out flames from the corner of his eye, and Sprout started to back away from him. Her attention was now fixed on the source of the light.

“Release him,” Alan's voice said clearly from nearby. Took him long enough to grace the two with his presence. Was he waiting for a formal invitation?

“You again. What is it with you boys and picking fights with people who are clearly superior?” she said.

Orlando was about to point out that he had been winning his squabble with her up until her bout of PMS decided to kick in, but Alan kept talking before he got a chance to spout off his perfect comeback.

“Don't be deceived, girl. The last time we met, my powers were stripped from me. I am not without them anymore.” The red light intensified.

The vines around Orlando's ankles unraveled. “Are you willing to trade for your charge?”

“I will not harm you if you release him. If I must take him from you by force, I will do so.”

“Right now, I don't think you could.” Her attention drifted away from Alan towards something, or someone, in the forest.

“Let's go, Sprout. They're coming,” Bean said.

Orlando's wrists were released. He immediately rubbed at them to help the feeling in his fingertips return, and then sat up. Exchanging a look with Alan, who once more looked like a fireball, Orlando couldn't help but wonder what exactly his powers were. Outside of his teleporting, he hadn't seen any of them in action before. How much of what Alan could do was natural, and how much was Alturan technology?

“You're both under arrest, according to—” Whatever authority Alan had over the situation, he lost when his voice started to shake as he spoke. Rocks flew at them from out of the foliage—large ones. He threw his hands up around his face, and the flames changed from red to white. The rocks incinerated as they came in contact with Alan's fire.

Orlando didn't have that kind of luck. Already disoriented from being imprisoned, the alien's blinding light proved to be even more distracting. He covered his head with his arms as he curled himself up in a last effort to protect himself. Right when he had the brilliant idea to throw a shield up around himself with his abilities, he was struck with a rock the size of a baseball right in the side of the head. His arm deflected part of the blow. He didn't think he heard a crunch when it hit, but there was a rather loud smack, and the pain was fierce before subsiding into a long-lasting sting. The force knocked him over, and a few smaller ones pelted his body before it ceased entirely.

After waiting a few minutes before uncovering his face, he winced at the movement of his arm. He could feel bruises forming on his back as well, and it was difficult to tell which hurt more. His body shook so much he couldn't stand. Every time he tried to use his dominant arm to brace himself, the pain caused him the fall over again.

“I can't believe this,” he whispered, biting back tears of pain. “Alan?”

“Yes, I am fine,” he said. The light subsided, and dark surrounded them again. It took a couple of minutes, but Orlando soon saw the man kneeling by his side.

“I kind of figured you would be fine. I'm not,” Orlando said before biting on his lower lip. The adrenaline wore off, and the pain intensified.

“You do not appear to be bleeding.”

Orlando glared at him. “That doesn't mean I'm not hurt.”

“I am simply stating it is probably not a serious injury. Don't worry.” He put a hand on Orlando's back. Heat washed over the place where Alan touched him, and more of the strange glowing fire appeared. This time, it was concentrated only on his hand.

“Is that better?”

“Sort of.” Orlando stared at his arm. “I think it's broken.”

Alan gestured for the arm and touched it in a few places. “It's fractured in a few places, but it's hardly anything to be concerned with. An appropriate battle wound.”

An appropriate wound? “What?” Orlando winced every time he touched it. His head was starting to hurt as well. “Will you stop poking it and do your glowy-healy thing already?”

“Yes, my apologies,” Alan said. This time took longer than his back had.

“Thank you.” Orlando closed his eyes, and felt a tear dribble down his nose. He quickly brushed it away.

“Why are you crying?”

He hoped Alan hadn't noticed, but apparently he wasn't so lucky. “Because it hurts—a lot,” Orlando explained. Did he really have to though?

“That is a bit childish.”

“If you hadn't noticed, I am a child. At least according to my country's standards,” he snapped.

“Yes, but I mean—”

“Alan? Shut up.”

Enter the awkward silence that stayed with them until JD and Cadence finally decided to grace the two young men with their presence.

“You guys okay?” Cadence asked. She knelt by Orlando and watched with wide eyes as Alan continued to heal him.

“Fine,” Orlando mumbled. As soon it was finished, he pulled his arm away. His head was starting to hurt more, and he wondered briefly if he had a concussion, but the last thing he wanted to do was annoy and inconvenience Alan even further by asking for more help.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing. I was attacked by a freakish girl who tried to kill me with a million rocks,” Orlando said and stood slowly.

Alan opened his mouth.

“Yes, I know it wasn't really a million rocks, okay? And I realize that if she really wanted to kill me, she would have done it already.”

JD, who was being uncharacteristically quiet, spoke. “You don't need to be such a jerk, man.”

“I'm kind of on-edge here,” Orlando said. He ran a hand through his hair, trying hard to calm himself. It didn't help though.

Cadence placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “We're all okay. That's what matters, and we found some things out, JD and I.”

He pulled away from her. “Don't you get it? Am I the only person who's freaking out here? She broke my arm. She could have broken my brain.”

“Assuming it wasn't broken already to begin with,” JD commented under his breath.

“Shut up,” he snapped and glared at him, and was surprised by the sudden burst of psychic energy he let out. It didn't do much of anything, but it pulsated around them and through the trees.

Cadence made quiet cooing noises in an effort to get him to calm down. “JD, be nice. Orlando, I understand you're afraid, but you need to not lash out at us. We can't help you if you're attacking us. Let's go back to the car, and we can talk.”

“But what about—” Alan said.

“There's nothing more for us to do here. Alan, if you have to talk to one of your people, go ahead and do so. You can tell them what we found.”

They made their way back through the forest and back to the path where they originally had stationed themselves. No one said anything for a while, but Orlando preferred it this way. His head was still pounding, and he had nerves to shake off. Walking in the silence helped with regrouping himself. He didn't feel safe again until they were back on the path and under the walkway lights. Checking around him to make sure no one was nearby, he pulled off his mask. He didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to them. The others did the same.

“What happened?” Cadence asked. Nothing he had to say was particularly vital to their mission, but she probably thought talking would help him. It sort of did.

“When JD went to go and do whatever he was doing, I was busy keeping our Poison Ivy wannabe occupied,” he said, and then went through the whole event over again. This time he gave more details, and kept the dramatics to a minimum.

JD tapped his fingers on his chin. “Sounds intense. Thanks for keeping her busy by the way. It definitely helped.”

“Glad to be of service,” he mumbled.

“I found the guy they were gonna hurt. They weren't going to just murder him. It was a mercy killing, or it was supposed to be. He died on his own after I got there,” JD said.

“From?” Alan asked.

Cadence spoke next. “It looked like some kind of infection or disease. I got a picture for you. Maybe you'll have an idea of what this is?”

She pulled her cellphone out and handed it to Alan. Orlando glanced over at the picture of the teenager and immediately regretted it. He'd never seen anything so disgusting before.

“Intriguing, perhaps we should go back for him,” Alan said as he stared at the picture.