Redemption (The Alliance Series Book 1) (13 page)

              "We think he's an independent shooter. Can't figure out who sent him. The agency wants us brought in and Stinky and his merry band of elves obviously want us dead. It's confusing. The only people I have pissed off lately are the feds and when they bring in multiple assets they give them the same orders. It's odd to think they would tell one to terminate and one not to." I said.

              "You're sure they both weren't trying to kill you?" Peotr asked, looking over at me.

              "No, I’m sure. Simmons wanted us brought in for examination. Sounded like the agency may think we needed cleansing." I said.

              "Hmm.” Peotr said.

              The doors that led back into the dining room where we all ate those delicious burgers only yesterday opened and a woman came out carrying a large utility box. It was red and had a large white cross on it, the symbol for first aid. She looked at each of us quickly assessing who needed immediate attention and came over to me, setting the box down she kneeled in front of me and said.

              "Captain Adams, my name is Miss Jones; I am the resident medical specialist on the premises. If you would allow me to assess the extent of your injuries I think I can help."

              She was gorgeous.

              With dark brown hair that fell just below her shoulders, blue eyes that, even behind the square rimmed glasses, showed intelligence and compassion.               She brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face in an absent-minded motion and began opening up the box.

              "Sure Miss Jones, you can assess whatever you want." I said.

              Ignoring me, she reached up and slowly removed my jacket revealing the bandolier and the black tee shirt I was wearing. I winced in pain as the movement caused a fresh wave of agony.

              She quickly examined my injuries and went to work cleaning up the one on my right arm first. Her hands moved with deft confidence and I began to sense that they moved in a ritualistic way more than a purely surgical manner.

              I began to feel the subtle stirrings of slight delicate magic on my wounds. All three sites began to itch and I looked down to see Miss Jones with her eyes closed while she finished wrapping the last injury.

              I was able to see that before she finished, the teeth marks were already closed and surrounded with fresh pink flesh. I looked at her with newfound respect.

              Healing magic is rare. It is also extremely difficult. It's one thing to make lightning or harden air into a shield. The precision and knowledge it takes to mend flesh with literally millions of different cells with differing purposes and needs is amazing.

              Usually magic healers specialize in salves or potions that can infuse the healers magic into the body’s own healing systems, giving them a boost. Allowing the person’s own body to do what it naturally does only faster. What would take weeks to mend would be reduced to days.

              Personally mending a wound with one’s own magic directly is something that only a handful of people can do with any accuracy. There is so much that can go wrong.

              Think about it. All it takes is one cell that has a mutation and it can grow into a cancerous tumor. Usually that sort of thing happens quickly if a wizard makes a mistake. Miss Jones was good and efficient, seeing as how my arm hadn't swollen up and fallen off.

              I rotated my arm and checked my range of motion. I had the full use of both arms and my neck was only a little sore.

              "Don’t overdo it too quickly Mr. Adams. The mending is tenuous; it needs some time to take hold." Miss Jones said as weariness began to show on her face.

              The working she did was big; it obviously took a lot out of her. I looked at her with newfound respect and said. "Thank you Miss Jones. I’ll try to keep it to a minimum."

              She looked up at me with a small twinkle in her eye and said in her crisp British accent. "Do try Mr. Adams."

              She gathered up her first aid kit, closing the latches on the side, stood up, looked at Peotr. "If that will be all sir?" It was obvious she was exhausted, but she was determined to not show it. She apparently didn't want to let us know how much that had taken out of her.

              "Of course Miss Jones, you have done a great job as always, take the rest of the night off, relax. I will call on you tomorrow." Peotr said.

              "As you wish sir." Miss Jones said.

              She turned and walked back inside with her back held straight. She had a very nice backside.

              I turned to see Peotr looking at me with a small smile on his face, obviously catching me admiring Miss Jones’ posture. I shrugged, whatcha gonna do?

              Lt. Col. West’s face as it appeared in the grainy photograph came back and washed away all my thoughts of admiration.

              "What was the Col. doing there?" I grumbled to myself.

              He can’t be involved in this can he? I thought.

              Why would he be there if he wasn't? I reasoned. I just couldn't believe that the Col. would have anything to do with project Frankenstein.

              Don’t jump to conclusions John. I thought.

              The military facility that housed the tests was a big one. There could be any number of reasons the Col. could have been there.

              I decided that worrying about what ifs or how comes wasn't going to get me anywhere. If I wanted to know the answer, I was going to have to do what I had been trying to do anyway. Talk to the Col. myself, in person.

              We were back in the same position as before. We needed some wheels if we were going to continue our trip to find answers.

              "If the centaur was able to track us here, it shouldn't be too hard for Simmons and his goons to find us also." I said, thinking aloud. I stood up, putting my jacket back on.

              "I wouldn't be too sure about that John." Peotr commented.

              I looked at him quizzically.

              "I have finished the property, which means more than just the walls and roof. I'm sure you noticed all the carvings of animals among the architecture and the enchantment I placed upon the gate?" Peotr said with a small hint of pride.

              "There is more I have done; when someone is invited in, their trail is effectively erased. The centaur and this Simmons may have been able to track you when you were outside the grounds, which the archery range is, but when you are here you are perfectly safe." He added. "If someone does happen to break my spells the animals from the carvings will be activated. I have a feeling anyone trying to get to us here would have a hard time of it."

              I let out a long low whistle.

              "Peotr, you have been a busy man." Nathan said.

              "Idle hands are the devils playground, eh?" Peotr said.

"There is no real rush; you can stay for a spell. Eat and replenish your strength. I can resupply you and make sure that when you are ready to continue that it will not be in haste."

              "Peotr, have I ever told you how much I love you?" I said appreciatively.

              "I saw the way you were looking at Miss Jones. You cannot seduce me with your forked tongue, John." Peotr teased. "Come, I will grill some more burgers, this time how do elk burgers with pepper jack cheese sound?"

              "A man after my own heart." Nathan said.

              We went back inside and a short time later, we were all full with elk burgers and pepper jack cheese. I tried to keep my mind off the picture and what I was going to ask the Col., so I focused on the path ahead.

              "I hate to ask, but is there any way you would be interested in a trade? I have a Humvee that’s in great shape, but the paintjob is for shit. I can't be seen in something like that." I said to Peotr.

              "Of course John, I have already made the preparations. As we speak I am having my mule loaded up and prepared for a trip." Peotr said.

              "Mule?" I asked. "We're in kind of a hurry. I don't think a mule is exactly the way we want to go." I said.

              "Do not worry; my mule will not let you down." Peotr said.

              I looked over at Nathan trying to gather support for my objections. He just looked back and shrugged. Obviously, he had more hope in the mule than I did.

              I decided not to press the issue. If Peotr said it would be fine, I had to believe him.

              Nathan stood up and went to the wall where a large bookcase held volumes and volumes of novels. He started looking at the books, perusing the collection.

              Peotr looked over to me with a piercing stare and said. "You might find it surprising John but I know how you may be feeling." I sat in silence, not letting any emotions show on my face. Unsure about how I felt. Doubt warred with denial. I was worried that the man I trusted was involved, but continually put up mental roadblocks when my train of thought led me there.

              Peotr nodded slightly and continued.

              "I once put my heart and soul into a system I believed in. Mother Russia wasn't always the broken and divided nation it is now. We were once an empire, a mighty one that stretched from the Pacific Ocean to the Polish Lithuanian Commonwealth."

              "I worked within the Empire for decades, doing what I thought was necessary to keep her strong. After the Bolshevik Revolution, I continued with my dedication to my nation. I was swept up in the idea that we had found the perfect system. Equality for all, it was an ideal that many could believe in."              

              "The only problem was that it didn't work. At least not in Russia, maybe one day we will find some structure that is stable and successful. I think the Americans may have come the closest, but there is still glaring problems within this system as well."

              "I watched as the world I had worked so hard to make succeed, fell down around my feet. I did horrendous things for Mother Russia. Things I knew at my core were wrong, but I did them anyway. It was like trying to hold a handful of sand, the harder I squeezed the more spilled out."

              "By the time the cold war started I was already in a state of disarray. I knew it was over, but I refused to accept it. I wandered the lands trying to find some hope, something to rekindle my sense of purpose. I went from town to town, at times succumbing to my despair and allowing the beast within to reign. I would spend months in the forests hunting and killing. Living like a wild animal only to come to in some cave or under some tree with blood stained fur and a dreadful sense of the unknown horrors I had committed."

              "Many of these times I would not remember. I blocked out what happened when I went on a furious rage. I know I killed innocents. I do not know how many. Their blood is on my hands. I have truly been cursed, but that is no excuse. I let the monster reign and reign he did." Peotr's accent thickened, as he was drug back into his memories of those times.

              "These were dark days indeed." He said, staring off in the distance. He seemed to be watching something only he could see.

              "I don’t know how long this lasted, years. It was then that I met someone, someone who gave me a new sense of purpose. She helped re-awaken my drive. I slowly began to realize I had more to offer. I could do something to help. I re-entered the world. I slowly rose in the new Russia, I became a highly trusted government official. I began to supply information to those I felt could do the most good with it. For years this went on until I made a mistake. I got sloppy and the K.G.B. intercepted one of my drops. I was compromised, my activities meant my death. That’s when I called in my chips and you came to assist in my departure." Peotr said with a small smile.

              "So you see I have been where you may yet travel. Do not make the mistake I made. Do not get trapped in despair and self-pity. If you ever are in need of a purpose or when you think things are so bad that there is no hope. Come see me. Come find me. I may be able to help." He finished.

              Peotr stood up came over to me and slapped my shoulder. He went over to Nathan and they began talking about some of the books in Peotr’s library.

              I sat there thinking about what Peotr had said. I could not imagine how it must feel to have more than one lifetime’s worth of blood on my hands. Peotr had never been as open with his past as he was tonight. I wondered what it was that brought this on. Why now? Maybe he saw something in my future that I was unable to see.

              I shrugged it off, focusing on the matter at hand. Get to the Col., get some answers.

              I left Nathan and Peotr to their discussion about what era produced the best writers. Adamantly arguing their sides, both determined to make each other capitulate. I didn't have the energy to tell them they were both beating their heads into a wall. Neither would budge. At least they were both enjoying themselves.