The Legend (22 page)

 

chapter 32

“How is sh
e?” I ask Archer the second he comes through the boardroom door.

“She's sleeping,” he replies. “She cried herself out. I didn't think she'd ever stop.”

I look at him sympathetically, knowing the toll Morgan's heartbreak is taking on him.

“We're all here, then?” the General barks, stern as ever. No doubt trying to eradicate from our minds the uncontrollable, sobbing mess he presented at the funeral this morning.

I get wearily to my feet. “It won't be long before Kenneth finds us. Cumming is only thirty miles from here and he'll put two and two together soon, if he hasn't already. He knows we have family in Georgia,” I nod at my dad and Reed.

“So, what do we do?”

“Exactly what we planned. We lead them here, to the Academy. And then we annihilate them.”

“You still plan on going after Kenneth?” the General asks.

“Now more than ever.”

“Good . . . good.” He clasps his hands in front of him. “Now, as to the fortification of this site – how do you plan on beating a NUSA army that will no doubt ridiculously outnumber us?”

“We're going to booby trap the whole facility.”

“We're going to what?” He looks alarmed.

“Gabe Hunter is in town. He was moved down there with the rest of our civilians. I want him brought back immediately.” Gabe is a ballistics expert. His best friend Marcus was killed in an accidental explosion when we destroyed the NUSA lab in Chicago. “And Crackerjack,” I add. Aidan's head pops up at the mention of his friend. “Crackerjack is highly intelligent,” I offer by way of explanation. “I want his opinion. He'll soon spot any holes in our plans.”

“So, we're going to rig explosives?” The General gets straight back to the topic.

“Yes. And Archer will also be stationed high to take out any stragglers. By the time they figure out we've booby trapped the area, hopefully the damage will be done. It should reduce their numbers significantly and give us a fighting chance.”

“Lydia will join me,” Archer states.

“Really?” My startled surprise is genuine. “What does Jupiter have to say about that?”

Jupiter's policy of neutrality is unwavering. I can't imagine he'd be pleased that his own sister is willing to fight for the Legion.

“I have no idea,” Archer shrugs, unconcerned, and I make a mental note to speak to Lydia myself.

Gabe returns to the Academy before the afternoon is out.

“How are you?” I ask, sincerely. I have the utmost respect for Gabe, and I know he has never quite recovered from the loss of his oldest friend. He and Marcus had grown up together and without Marcus Gabe had been trying to find his place in our community.

“All good, thanks,” he smiles. Then, getting down to business, “You want to tell me what I'm doing here?”

I explain about my idea of setting traps around the grounds.

“I assume you want maximum damage? With no concern to the facility itself?”

“If NUSA defeats us here, this facility will be worthless anyway. I would rather
we
destroy it than they do.”

“Give me a day or two and I'll see what I can come up with. I'll need to stay on site,” he adds.

“Absolutely. I'll show you to your room.”

I am on my way back from the barracks when I hear my name called.

“Rebecca!” Steeling myself, I turn around to face an incandescent and yet oddly composed Jupiter.

“Yes?”

“How dare you? After everything I have done for you, how could you involve my sister in this ridiculous war?”

“Okay. Firstly, Jupiter, this war is anything but ridiculous. Secondly, I didn't involve Lydia. Today was the first I heard of it. And as far as I can gather, she volunteered.”

“Well, I forbid it.”

“Okay,” I shrug. “That's fine.” My casual agreement deflates him slightly.

“So, you'll tell her? That she's not allowed to participate in any
fighting
?” The word drips out of his mouth disdainfully.

“No,” I scoff. “You tell her that.”

“It needs to come from you.”

“You honestly expect me to tell a grown woman that she's not
allowed
to join my army?”

“Yes.”

“I'll tell you what,” I concede, trying not to laugh, “I'll mention to Lydia that I don't think it's a good idea. How's that?”

“You know, there is nothing stopping me from taking my equipment from this place right now and going back to the States,” he threatens.

“Give the guards at the fences my regards,” I retort, calling his bluff. We both know that he cannot go anywhere.

Thanks to Jupiter's equipment, we have already successfully Gifted more than two thirds of our volunteers. Combined with Fiona's large group, Kwan has far too many soldiers to train, and has intimated that he needs assistance. I have my sights set on Morgan who was trained by Kwan and could certainly use the distraction, but I don't say anything just yet. I would like to talk to her first.

I barely sleep that night. Michael's death haunts me, and I replay everything that happened over and over in my mind trying to figure out if there was anything we could have done to prevent it.

Grateful for the first light of dawn, I get dressed and make my way to the dining hall, bleary eyed and yawning widely.

“Catching flies, Tiny?”

“Bite me.”

After breakfast we have a massive group training session in the auditorium. Much to my embarrassment, Kwan has taken to using Reed, Aidan and me for demonstration, and I try to avoid looking at the packed seats as I oblige one request after another.

Fiona and her soldiers are a formidable force. They work in such harmony, in perfect unison, seeming to anticipate one another's movements. They take their training far more seriously than Heath's group who are the jokers in our pack. I wonder if it's because, like us, Fiona's group has a score to settle. Heath, Oliver, Matt and Rory left the States of their own accord, whereas Fiona's soldiers were banished. Their exit was not voluntary, and they are angry. Even so, they fight with their heads and not their hearts – able to rise above their emotional ire and focus on the task at hand. Kwan watches them intently, almost enviously, a thoughtful expression on his face, and I know that he is trying to figure out how to bring out the same fluid movements and synchronisation in our own soldiers.

Aidan is improving by the day, tackling his training with the same focus and steadfast determination he showed as a headstrong boy.

When Kwan finally allows me to sit, I head down the stairs and take a seat beside Heath. Matt and Rory are sitting on his other side. These three men, together with Quinn and Kwan, will be my companions when we make our way back to NUSA on our mission to eliminate Kenneth Williams. My original plan included Michael, but he no longer needs to be kept safe. Fiona and five of her own will also accompany us, while the balance of her men will stay behind to protect our fortress.

“Matt, why don't you go up there and challenge them?” I tease, gesturing at the stage where Aidan and Reed are sparring. Despite Aidan's best efforts and vast improvement, Reed is pinning him, although not as easily as before.

“You must be mad,” he laughs. “I'm not taking on the Power of Three.”

“Heath tells us that Kwan is setting up an obstacle course on the outer field?” Rory asks.

“So I hear,” I shrug. “It should be ready tomorrow.”

“I'm going to be sick tomorrow,” Matt quips and I laugh for the first time since Michael's death.

Straight after training I cross the grounds to one of the old storage facilities located as far from the main building as possible. Premature detonation is a hazard of attempting to create any improvised explosive. I find Gabe and Crackerjack seated at a table, sorting through a mountain of nails, broken glass and other junk.

“So, I take it we're going with shrapnel this time around?” I ask, picking up a rusted nail and examining it before tossing it back on the pile. When we blew up the NUSA lab, we had decided against loading the pipe bombs with shrapnel in order to contain the damage to the lab itself and avoid injuring any innocent personnel.

“Maximum damage . . . your words,” Gabe replies.

“So, do we have a concrete plan yet?”

“There's no problem setting up explosives around the perimeter,” Gabe explains, “but we need to know where the targets will be in order for the detonations to have any impact. The grounds are too vast – there's no point rigging anything if the NUSA soldiers are too far away.”

“We need to use bait,” Crackerjack offers.

“Bait?”

“Yes – we need to herd them – force them to go where we want them to.”

“There's nothing NUSA wants as badly as me,” I point out. It's true, I am the perfect bait. I am their primary target.

“Don't you need to be heading for the States by the time NUSA arrives here?”

“I'll have some time. A convoy that size isn't going to make it
back before I do. I can lead them in, and then I'll slip away when the fighting starts.”

“Are you going to be able to do that?” Gabe asks, but he doesn't mean it in the literal sense. My reputation for never abandoning my friends when they are in trouble precedes me.

“I'll have to. Now, where is the best place to rig the explosives?”

Crackerjack points out that the best way to draw NUSA in is to lead them right through the front gates. We have Lake Lanier at our back – the water acting as a natural barrier – but there are still far too many places along the perimeter where NUSA could access the Academy.

“Bring them right in the front door,” Gabe nods thoughtfully. “It could work.”

“You're okay to prepare the bombs?” I ask. To my knowledge Gabe hasn't handled any explosives since that disastrous night in Chicago.

“I'll be fine,” he smiles as though he knows exactly what I'm thinking. “Crackerjack's going to help me.”

“You'll need more hands, even if just for the preparation work, and certainly for concealing the bombs outside. There's a lot of physical labour involved – you can't do it all. I'll send over a few people to help. How do you plan on detonating?”

“Fuses. Not ideal, but it's all we have. What I wouldn't give for a remote detonator.”

“I might be able to help you with that,” Crackerjack interrupts, and I recall that Crackerjack is something of a whizz-kid with electronics.

“I'll leave you to it.” I wave and close the door firmly behind me, relieved that all the civilians are safe in town.

Checking around to make sure no one is watching, I make my way towards the main gates. There is something else I need to do, away from prying eyes.

 

chapter 33

I
am back in time for dinner and I immediately call on David and a few of his friends to assist Gabe and Crackerjack. They promise to head over to the workshop as soon as they have finished eating. Spotting Morgan alone a few tables away, I use the opportunity to speak to her. She looks terrible, her eyes are red and puffy and her hair is a dirty knotted mass of curls.

“Morgan, you should eat something.” I take a seat opposite her, eyeing her untouched plate. She picks a small piece of potato from her plate and chews it slowly. I hate seeing her like this. I never thought I would miss the sassy, pig-headed version.

“You want to talk?” I ask warily. To my surprise, she takes a deep breath and leans forward in her chair.

“Actually, yeah, I do.” There is an infinitesimal pause and then the words pour out of her, each running into the last. “I made a mistake. I was wrong – I thought you . . . I didn't trust that you had our best interests at heart. I knew my father was a liar, but I convinced myself that he wouldn't let us come to any harm. You,” she stops, clenching her jaw in an effort to keep back the tears, “you protected us with your life in that cemetery.”

“I didn't protect Michael,” I correct sadly.

“You tried. You've always looked out for us. I just didn't see it before – I was too busy hating you, I guess.” She shrugs. “NUSA . . . my father . . . they're the real monsters.”

“Morgan, your father didn't expect you or your brother to come to any harm.”

“Don't defend him, Rebecca. He's not worth it. None of us are worth it. The only good to come out of the Kelly family are gone. My mother . . . and now Michael . . .”

“No,” my voice is louder now, “you are a good person, Morgan. You've always been a good person. You made a mistake, believe me, I get that. But all you wanted was to protect your brother. Don't let the guilt eat at you, it'll change you into something you're not. Trust me, I know. You have to let it go.”

“How?” she gulps, the desperation in her voice impossible to ignore. “How do I do that? My brother is dead.”

“Well, firstly, let us help you. Let your friends comfort you. We're your family now, Morgan.” I catch Archer's eye across the room and note the pained expression on his face. “You have people here who love you. If you just open yourself up to that, it can change everything.”

She follows the direction of my gaze and gives a watery smile.

“He's been so kind, but I'm not sure I will ever feel the same way.”

“Well, that answers a question I've been dying to ask you,” I grin and, to my delight, she looks amused. Then her face falls again.

“I don't want to fight any more.”

I expected this and I let her off the hook kindly. “You don't have to. When the time comes, you will go into town with the others.”

“Thank you,” she sounds relieved. “I just feel so lost. What do I do now . . . to keep my mind off everything?”

“Actually, I've been wanting to ask a favour of you. Kwan is struggling to keep up with the training. The lab is producing more soldiers than we ever dreamed possible, and our soldiers need mentors.”

“What good will I do? I don't know the first thing about training soldiers.”

“Morgan, don't underestimate yourself. You're the youngest member of the Legion, yes, but you've already fought more battles than most of our men, and you've had team leader experience.”

“I thought you felt it was a mistake that I was a raid leader?” she remarks drily.

“That was
my
mistake,” I admit. “So, will you help him? Kwan really needs you.”

“That was Michael's job,” she smiles dejectedly, but I can see she has made up her mind to do it.

“And now it's yours.” I get to my feet, offering a hovering Archer my chair.

“Norman tells me you went into town yesterday?” Reed mentions as we make our way down to the field for Kwan's new obstacle programme.

“I went to see Alex,” I reply automatically. “I didn't see Norman,” I add, frowning. Had Norman seen me? I had been so sure that I had managed to escape detection in town.

“Well, he saw you,” he confirms, and then glances at me suspiciously. “There something you want to tell me, Sexy Bex?”

“We're back to that now, are we?” I roll my eyes and try to change the subject.

“Avoiding the topic?”

“No. Oh, my God.” I don't need to feign surprise as I gaze out over the previously empty field. It has been completely transformed – high wooden walls, rope climbs and criss-crossing beams pepper the yellowing grass.

“What the hell is that supposed to be?” Reed points to a savage looking mass of barbed wire, underneath which is what looks like a pool of mud.

“I have no idea, but I'm guessing we go under it.” I cringe at the thought.

“This is a joke, right,” Reed adds as Jethro draws up beside us, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I doubt it. Kwan's been working on this for days. The way he talks about it, you'd swear it was his first-born child.”

The entire population of the Academy has shown up to watch. I'm hardly surprised – we have very little entertainment out in the Rebeldom, and this looks to be as good a show as any.

I spot Kwan laughing with Aidan and my father, and then he moves quietly to the edge of the field, an expression of fierce pride blazing across his face. Reed, Jethro and I make our way towards him, as do most of the soldiers who will be participating in today's events.

“I'm splitting you into teams,” Kwan calls, and the crowd falls silent. “The first exercise is to make it around the track. Whichever teams wins, wins,” he adds simply. “Team One: Rebecca, Quinn, Heath, Matt and Rory.” It makes perfect sense that he would pair me with the team I have selected for our attack on Kenneth. Fiona and her five men will no doubt be on a different team. “Team two,” Kwan continues, “Reed, Jethro, Archer, Morgan and Aidan.”

“What?” I splutter, rounding on him indignantly. “How is that fair? Reed and Aidan both have the Power of Three!”

“Yes, but Archer has no skills,” Reed drawls, “not without his bow. No offence,” he adds, and Archer grins. Kwan hands out scraps of fabric – blue for my team and red for the other team.

“Tie them around your wrists,” he prompts as we all stand there, holding our coloured rags in confusion.

“Have you been researching this in the library?” Reed narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“Take up your positions,” Kwan barks.

As we line up at one end of the field my heartbeat quickens in anticipation of the thrill of competition.

“You are going down, Tiny,” Reed taunts.

“Way down,” Aidan echoes, winking at me over Reed's shoulder. I ignore them both, bending my knees and waiting for Kwan's signal.

As his hand drops, I accelerate forward, flying towards a vertical ladder. I reach it only a second before Reed, but it's enough. I scuttle up the rungs like a crab, my smaller frame making it easier for me to manoeuvre. I am only a few rungs up when I hear someone else hit the base, and I don't need to look down to know that it is Aidan. No one else would have caught up so quickly. As I feel Reed's hands grab the rung near my knee, I deliberately put my boot down on his fingers.

“Sorry,” I croon sweetly, beginning to enjoy myself. As I vault over the top and start scrambling down, I come face to face with Reed.

“Do try to keep up.” His reply is anything but chivalrous. Not wanting to waste any time, I let go of the rung only about a third of the way down, and land nimbly twelve feet below. I turn immediately towards the next obstacle, which consists of a balancing beam with a set of rudely crafted steps on either side. Hurtling towards it, I hear Kwan bellowing across the field.

“If you fall, you go back!”

“I hope you're listening, boys!” I scream gleefully over my shoulder. I daren't risk looking back, knowing the others will be right behind me. I stampede up the steps and place one foot on the balancing beam. It is about twenty feet long and consists of a single circular wooden post, barely six inches wide. I start to make my way across, teetering dangerously to the left. There is no advantage to the Gifted in this exercise and I start to sway, my arms out at my sides as I move as quickly as I can. About halfway across, I feel the pole shift beneath my feet.

“Don't slip,” Reed's low voice calls tauntingly. Trying to increase my pace is my undoing, and for a heart-stopping moment I flail desperately, and then I topple off the pole and land in a heap on the ground. Reed's guffaw of laughter is cut short as he, too, tumbles to the ground. I rush past as he is getting back to his feet, climbing the steps just behind Jethro. Aidan is already halfway across.

“Why did I get all the slowpokes?” I yell, and then, spotting Matt screeching to a halt at the base of the stairs, “Oh thank God . . . it's about time!” Matt is the only other member of my team who is speed-Gifted.

One by one we slip and slide, none of us able to make it across the beam. Reed's language is deteriorating. Archer, Morgan and Rory have all reached the steps, and I file in behind them.

“Pile up on the highway!” my dad calls, as Heath and Quinn join the end of the line. Nobody is more shocked than Reed when Archer is the first person to make it across the balance beam.

“You want to knock my skills now, McCoy?” he whoops, running towards the barbed wire mud pond.

“I always told you he's like a freaking cat!” Reed grins up at me. He and Aidan are in line right behind me.

Galvanised by Archer's success, Morgan makes it across on her first attempt, and to my relieved surprise, so does Rory. Determined not to embarrass myself again, I take my time, moving slowly and cautiously, and I give a triumphant whoop of joy when my foot touches the first step on the opposite end. I don't turn to monitor Reed's progress, but sprint towards the mud pool instead. Archer is already scrambling out the opposite side, completely covered in mud, and I can see Morgan and Rory leopard crawling beneath the knotted mass of barbed wire.

“Here goes nothing,” I murmur, dropping to my knees and then down onto my belly. I slither forward, keeping a wary eye on the barbed wire canopy above my head.

The cold wet mud seeps in everywhere, saturating my clothing. It smells vile, and I keep my head as high as I can, breathing through my mouth. I am almost through the canopy and my right hand is actually touching the firmer ground at the edge of the pit when I feel a firm hand grab hold of my ankle and I am yanked backwards.

“Reed!” I scream in frustration and then my face is submerged in mud. I lift my head, frantically wiping the filth from my face as Reed wriggles forward beside me.

I make it out of the canopy just after he does and we both run hell for leather towards the next obstacle. The point of this next challenge is much like the monkey bars I have seen in Alex's playground, except double the height and at least ten times the distance. While the balance beam required agility, the monkey bars test upper body strength. The objective is to move from bar to bar so that your hands are carrying your entire body weight. The stronger soldiers have an advantage, and suddenly my strength-heavy team doesn't seem like such a disadvantage, although I know that Reed, with his staggering strength, will probably beat me. The bars are wide enough apart that two people at a time can pass under them. Morgan and Archer are moving along, but Archer is struggling, falling behind Morgan. I race after Reed, overtaking him just feet from the bars, and I swiftly sidestep, positioning myself behind Morgan. Reed gives a groan of frustration, knowing he will be hindered by Archer.

I grab hold of the bars and swing my legs, working up a rhythm as I monkey from one bar to the next. Reed gets ahead of me, but soon enough he is impeded by Archer and I move ahead, my eyes still smarting from the mud caking my face.

I drop lithely to the ground at the last rung and turn for the second to last obstacle. The rope net bridge is simple enough, and I clamber up the side, climbing over the vertical bar and moving on all fours towards the opposite end. The rope sags heavily towards the centre, and I proceed with caution. Morgan, sensing that I am gaining on her, uses this to her advantage, and she lets go of the rope, throwing herself forward and rolling down to the middle, before snatching up the rope again and moving like a spider up the other side. I contemplate imitating her actions, but I am already nearing the centre, so I figure it's best just to keep going as I am. The net leaps in my hands as someone else climbs onto it, and I turn to find Reed clambering over the vertical beam, Aidan right behind him. Of course, Reed is heavier than Morgan and the net bounces with every move he makes, threatening to unhinge me and making it far harder to move across. Relieved, my hand finds the beam on the opposite end, and I vault over it, slithering down the net.

My relief is short lived. Running at the final obstacle, I realise too late that the only way over the fifteen foot sheer wooden wall is to take it at a run. As I stand in its shadow, Morgan scrabbling futilely at the smooth surface beside me, I curse my mistake. I sprint back towards the net bridge and then take the wall again at a run, leaping into the air and flying towards it. My fingers close over the top at exactly the same moment that I hear Reed's Tarzan yell and he slams into the wall beside me, his grip far more secure than mine. Because he was behind me, he had seen my mistake and known exactly how to make it over the wall. No doubt Aidan would be right behind us.

I pull myself up, my fingers cramping with the effort. Reed gets his left leg over before I do, and I am furious that he is going to beat me, but the instant before he drops over the other side, I hear Morgan's cry of “Reed!” We both glance down to where she is standing at the base of the wall, her fingers still trying to find purchase on the wooden wall. Morgan is too short to make the jump, and without speed to use as a run-up, she has no chance of making it over. Reed hesitates, and I press my feet firmly into the wood, pushing up with my legs. As I get my arms over, Reed leans back down towards Morgan, offering her his hand.