The Legend (24 page)

 

chapter 36

T
he following morning I see Fiona standing by herself on the lawn and I make my way over to join her, a steaming mug of coffee in my hand.

“Morning,” I call from a few yards away, alerting her to my presence.

“Morning,” she greets me pleasantly enough but she doesn't turn around. We stand in companionable silence for a few minutes before she finally turns to face me.

“I couldn't help but overhear the row you had with your son yesterday,” she murmurs and I flush guiltily, despite knowing that I had handled it properly.

“Don't feel too bad about Alex,” she soothes. “You dealt with it well. He'll have forgotten already – children are so forgiving, they don't hold grudges.”

“You sound like Aidan.” It occurs to me that I have no mother friends – no other women I can relate to when it comes to things concerning Alex. Fiona and I have a lot in common. We are both remarkable soldiers – leaders with great responsibilities – but we are also mothers, a fact that is easy for those who look to us for guidance to forget. “It's nice to have another mother around – someone who gets it.”

“That's what makes us good leaders,” she replies, with no trace of arrogance, just a self-assured certainty. “We have someone to fight for.”

“Reed told me about your daughter.”

“Emily,” she nods, a proud smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

“Where is she now?” I probe, wondering if she will open up to me.

“I assume she's safe at home with her father.” She smiles at my look of incredulity. “My husband,” she clarifies.

“I'm sorry,” I stutter, “I just assumed . . .”

“That I was a single mom?”

“No,” I blush. “I actually assumed that Clint . . .” Fiona and Clint, one of her soldiers, had seemed close and I automatically assumed that he and Fiona were an item. Fiona laughs out loud at that.

“Heavens, no!” she says. “Clint is a very dear friend, but he's not my husband.”

“So . . . your husband didn't get caught when you protested against Kenneth?”

“My husband is in banking,” she replies, amused. “He had nothing to do with it. The worst part is that I didn't get to say goodbye – to either of them.” Her melancholy is starting to make more sense and I know now why she is standing out here alone, so lost in thought.

“It's term time now . . . I missed Emily's first day at school.”

“I'm sorry.” It is such an insignificant response, but I don't know what else to say.

“I'll see her again soon.”

“You will, Fiona. I promise you.” Suddenly Alex being just a few minutes away in town doesn't seem like such a hardship compared with those who have no way of communicating with their families inside the States.

“I've been watching Adam,” she changes the subject. “You're right – he's amazing. I couldn't think of anyone better suited to bring our country back to its former greatness. We will definitely support his inauguration.”

“Thank you. He won't let us down.”

She merely nods agreeably and so I leave her to her thoughts. On my way back to the dining hall I spot Gabe and Crackerjack down the drive. They are issuing instructions to David and the other strength-Gifted soldiers who have been assisting them. Aidan is there too, laughing at something Crackerjack is saying. Reed is slightly further along, scrutinising a recently covered trench.

“How is it going?” I ask, and Gabe wipes his brow.

“Good. I think we should have all the explosives rigged before lunch. Thanks for sending this lot over,” he adds, gesturing at the men who are digging. “We would never have got it all done without their help.”

“And the detonators?” I ask.

“Remote,” Gabe grins.

“Really?” I round on Crackerjack, who shrugs nonchalantly. “You are a genius!”

“I know,” he replies, deadpan, as if I am merely stating the obvious.

“How far away do you have to be to detonate?”

“Not too far. We thought we should take the high ground with Archer and Lydia, and detonate from there.” Archer and Lydia will be in the relative safety of the second floor when the time comes, so that they can inflict as much damage as possible without being easy targets themselves.

“Good idea,” I grin, oblivious of the danger that was, at that very moment, heading our way.

Sometimes in war timing is everything – the difference between success and failure. Had America known what was coming, perhaps she would have been able to save herself, to better prepare for the nuclear attack that came out of the blue all those years ago. Likewise, had I known what would unfold, I might have made a different decision that would have changed the tragic and devastating outcome of what happened next. But there are no ‘what-ifs' in this life, only the heart-rending acceptance that you cannot change the past, no matter how desperately you may wish it. The one thing I know for certain is that no matter how carefully you plan, no matter how hard you try or how bravely you fight, every war demands a sacrifice.

“Rebecca!” The wind carries the high, reedy voice up to us and I turn, the smile still lingering on my face. I vaguely recall the mousy-haired soldier who is hurtling towards us as one of the western scouts. “They're here,” he gasps, his shoulders heaving with exertion. “NUSA. They're only about three miles southwest of the town.”

I turn back to the others, a look of abject horror replacing the smile of only seconds ago.

“It's too soon,” I breathe, as everything seems to move more slowly, and yet far too quickly at the same time. I had known that it wouldn't be much longer before NUSA found us – Simon Kelly's tracking device would have alerted them to the general vicinity, and Kenneth would have put two and two together to pinpoint Gainesville, given that my father has family here, but I thought that it would take much longer for him to mobilise his army. I assumed we would have at least another week or two.

“Fill it in!” Reed roars at the men still finishing off the trenches. “Cover them up and get out of here!”

“Gabe! Please tell me we can be ready?” I plead. Lunch is still a few hours away and we no longer have that much time.

“I'll need at least half an hour to finish up, if we move it.” Gabe's face is ashen with shock.

“I can get you that,” I nod. “Reed,” I turn to him and he seems to know exactly what I'm thinking.

“No, Tiny . . .”

“You need to warn everyone – get them into position.”

“You can do that. I'll go out there and lead them back.”

“I have to see the convoy, Reed,” I argue. “I need to see how big it is so that I can decide whether it's worth while heading back to the States.” We are banking on Kenneth sending enough of his soldiers out here that the States will be relatively unprotected. “There is no time,” I plead, and Reed runs his hands through his hair in frustration. He knows that I'm right – this is the best course for us to follow.

“You're not going out there alone.”

“She won't be alone,” Aidan steps forward.

“Tell my teams to be ready to go. And I want Archer and Lydia, if she's willing, upstairs. You two join them as soon as you can.” I tell Gabe and Crackerjack. “You,” I turn to the scout, “you get to the town. Find my father and Adam Vincent, and tell them what is happening. You tell only them, do you understand me?” He nods briskly. “Tell them to get everyone out of town and into hiding.”

If everything goes according to plan, the town won't be compromised, but we can't risk it. We also can't afford to have the townspeople panicking. Between Adam and my father, they should be able to keep everyone calm and assure them that it's just a precaution. The scout hurtles off and I head in the opposite direction towards the Academy, Aidan and Reed right behind me.

“Be careful,” is all Reed says as I yank open the door of the Range Rover.

“Get everyone ready,” I reply. “I'll bring those bastards right through the front door.”

 

 

chapter 37

“W
hat exactly is the plan?” Aidan asks, lurching forward in the passenger seat as I yank the steering wheel hard to the left to avoid a massive pothole and mount the kerb in the process.

“We have to lead them west of town, straight to the Academy.”

“And what if they catch us before we get there?”

“They won't,” I risk a quick glance across at him and I am pleasantly surprised that he doesn't look at all fearful. Instead, a grim determination has come over him. “The NUSA vehicles are bigger and slower than this” – I indicate our own Range Rover – “and they are also moving as a convoy. It slows them down and makes it hard for them to manoeuvre. Basically, we're lighter and faster.”

“Well, that's comforting,” he drawls, sounding remarkably like Reed.

It doesn't take us long before we catch sight of them. Hurtling down a narrow road, I spot a flash of black to my left as we cross through an intersection and, without warning, I screech into the empty drive of an abandoned office block. We fly from the car and I break the rusted lock of a side door with one brutal kick. Four floors up, we race across the faded carpeted floor to the filthy windows overlooking the street opposite.

“Holy shit.”

I can hardly blame Aidan for his dismayed outburst. Down in the street below there is a line of black military vehicles, two abreast, stretching further back than we can see. Cursing, I turn my head to the east.

“Come on!” I grab his arm. “We need to get ahead of them.”

We hurtle back to the street and the tyres squeal in protest as I execute a one hundred and eighty degree turn, racing back in the opposite direction.

I keep looking to my left until we pass an intersection that is clear and at the next stop I turn hard left, flooring the gas.

“Hold on!” I warn as we reach the street ahead and I yank the wheel hard right, a cloud of smoke billowing up behind us. It takes a few seconds before visibility returns but when it does, I see the leading NUSA vehicles in my rear-view mirror. I tramp even harder on the gas pedal and the Range Rover surges forward.

“Come on,” I moan, keeping my eye trained on the mirror, and I heave a sigh of relief when the approaching mass speeds up. The chase has begun.

It doesn't take long for the four leading Humvees to break away from the convoy in order to pursue us properly. NUSA have advanced communications between their vehicles and no doubt the leading vehicles will keep in contact with the rest and will be directing them. We deliberately lure them through back roads, weaving left and right, trying to arrest their progress to give those back at the Academy more time.

“I hope they've got those explosives ready,” Aidan murmurs as we edge closer to home.

“They'll be ready . . . Oh shit! No, no, no!” I gaze helplessly at the abandoned trailer parked haphazardly across the road ahead of us, partially blocking our way.

“Just nudge it,” Aidan advises, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder.

“It's too heavy, we'll burn this piece of shit out!” But I veer left anyway, the gap impossibly small. There is an awful screeching sound as the front of the Range Rover makes contact with the edge of the metal trailer, and our tyres start to smoke as they rotate helplessly on the hot tarmac. I slowly increase pressure on the gas, and mercifully, the trailer starts to move.

“Too slow!” I shout, as the rear-view mirror is consumed by the shiny black of the NUSA vehicles, and a second later the monstrous Humvee rams the back of our car. We are both propelled forward, stopped just inches from the dash by our seat belts. The Humvee rams us again, harder, and once more we are thrown forward like a couple of rag dolls. I give a yell of frustration, but Aidan points at the trailer.

“Look!” The superior engine power of the Humvee is doing what the Range Rover couldn't, and the trailer has shifted, the gap widening. More worrying are the blue-clad men who have disembarked from a vehicle further back and are approaching us from behind.

“They're ramming us to stop us getting out and making a run for it!” I hiss. It's a clever ploy – keeping us contained in the car until they can surround it.

“One more good push and we should get through,” he mutters, unclipping his seat belt and reaching for his door handle, but a second later it comes and I tramp the gas, even as I am flung forward by the force of the impact. Aidan, without his belt, bangs his head painfully on the dash. Both sides of the Range Rover grate between the trailer and the brick wall opposite, and for a heart-stopping moment as I watch the sparks flying, I fear that we will be wedged in. Then we are clear and Aidan gives a whoop of triumph.

“What were you doing?” I ask as he presses his hand to his head. There is no blood, but already a bruised lump is darkening on his forehead.

“Nothing,” he mutters.

“You were going to get out?” I ask incredulously.

“You have to make it back,” he replies grimly, confirming my suspicions. Aidan would have sacrificed himself to hold the foot soldiers back and buy me the time needed to make it through.

“Don't do that again,” I snap.

Behind us, the might of the Humvees proves itself once again as with one tiny push, the trailer is cast aside completely, and one by one, they move through the gap and continue their pursuit. As their Humvee passes, the men who were approaching on foot quickly leap back into their seats.

“Is it just me, or are they moving faster?” Aidan asks after a few minutes of silence.

“I think we're moving slower,” I admit, trying to ignore the ominous knocking noise emanating from our engine. The temperature gauge is also rising, and a waft of steam is billowing from the hood.

“Come on!” I bang the steering wheel.

“What happened to us being faster and lighter?”

“We're definitely still lighter!” I point out wryly.

We are almost at the gates and the leaders of the convoy are hot on our heels.

“Maybe we should get out and make a run for it?” Aidan asks. He has a point, we could probably outrun the Range Rover right now.

“No, we need to make it over the charges.” I grit my teeth and floor it as the gate comes into view. With a moan of protest, the Range Rover surges forward, up the drive and through the gates. I spot a familiar figure in the window on the second floor of the main building as we pass below it, and I heave a sigh of relief. If Gabe is up there, we're ready.

Aidan and I have our doors open even before the Range Rover has come to a stop and we race hell for leather towards the courtyard, through the doors and up the stairs.

“They're here,” I say as Reed rushes to meet us.

“We noticed.” He raises an eyebrow but I have already turned to Gabe.

“You ready?”

“Yes,” he nods, a black device clutched in his hands. The remote is bigger than I expected it to be, with a row of levers down the front. We turn to face the gate where the convoy has slowed to a crawl, the four frontrunners waiting for the rest to catch up, no doubt anticipating an ambush.

“At least they haven't stopped,” Crackerjack points out. The Humvees stop. “Oh,” he looks crestfallen.

“They're waiting for the others,” I explain.

“How many are there?” Reed asks, and I meet his questioning look.

“Too many.”

“I sent Morgan, your father, the General and all remaining civilians to town,” Reed tells me and I nod gratefully. That means that everyone who remains at the Academy is a trained member of the Legion. “Everyone else is in position.”

We had decided that the best strategy would be to divide NUSA's forces, rather than facing them head on as we had done in the past. Our people would work in teams, in locations all over the facility. This is our home and we know it better than they do, and we aim to use their confusion to our advantage.

“Jesus,” Reed breathes as the convoy comes into view and joins the ranks behind the four stationary vehicles. “You weren't kidding.”

We hold our breath as the first few Humvees enter the gates and slow almost to a standstill, and then we exhale with relief as they decide to proceed, no doubt preferring to remain in the safety of their vehicles until they figure out our plan. I watch as the first car passes a place where I know explosives are buried. Gabe's face is contorted with concentration as the next two vehicles move over the same spot.

One by one they enter the Academy, moving forward slowly but deliberately. Charges have been set up the entire length of the drive and we wait until the first Humvee has passed the last barely concealed trench, before Gabe flips four of the levers on the remote in his hand. There is a second's delay and my heart sinks as I think the charges have failed, but then an almighty explosion rends the air followed immediately by another, and another, until the noise is almost deafening. At least ten Humvees are blown into the air, most of them burnt beyond recognition. Two men erupt from one about halfway down the drive, screaming in agony, but the remaining nine are completely still.

Reed lets out a bellow of triumph which echoes around the grounds, and then there is absolute silence. I turn to the others.

“It'll take them a while to venture out of their cars. Are you two ready?” I ask and Archer and Lydia nod in unison. Lydia looks uncharacteristically unsure of herself.

“Where's your brother?” I ask, concerned.

“He went into town with the others.” If the look on her face is any indication, they didn't part on good terms. No doubt Jupiter was furious with Lydia's decision to stay and help us. The truth be told, I do not understand it myself – Lydia has nothing to gain by fighting with the Legion, and everything to lose. I guess it is just in some people's nature to fight against oppression – to do the right thing – and I admire her bravery.

“Good,” I reply gently. “He'll be safe there. Now, just empty everything you have into anyone who comes down that drive. Do not leave this floor for anything, you understand? Get out of here only when it is safe and head for town.” They both nod. “You and Crackerjack stay up here too,” I add, addressing Gabe. “Set off the balance of the bombs if you get the opportunity, but don't detonate if any of our people are within range.” We have buried explosives in random areas all around the campus in the hope that we can eliminate a sizeable portion of the NUSA force once they are on foot.

“Got it,” Gabe agrees.

“Where's my team?” I ask Reed.

“They're waiting near the old aquatics centre. Fiona and her men are near the east courtyard.”

“Thanks.” I turn to go.

“Wait,” he grabs my arm. “Where are you going?”

“I need to get some things from my room. I won't be long – I'll be back before the trouble starts.” Reed eyes me curiously, but I break into a run before he can question me any further.