The Collective (24 page)

A look of delighted surprise crossed Distor’s face. “I know
you…Your father worked here once.” As Distor spoke he began to unclip his
revolver with his right hand.

“You have no right to talk about my father.” Keera said in
a surly tone, arms raised above her head.

“No right.” Distor laughed at her insolence. “Do not fool
yourself. What, do you think this raid is going to shift the balance of power?
You think Xonox will stop being the head of the House of Vancrew? You think the
other Houses will lose anything from this little attack? The Water Facility is
still at full power. This has been nothing more than an annoyance. It has done
nothing. It’s changed nothing. In a few minutes Xonox’s reinforcements will
arrive and all your friends will be killed. And the ones that aren’t killed
initially will be questioned, tortured, and then killed. That’s what happens
when a rat attacks a bear. It’s eaten.” Distor spoke the last sentence through
his clinched teeth with disdain.

Keera was not intimidated. “Not before the bear is bit in
his ass.” Her eyes looked menacingly at the commander.

Distor lowered his left hand as he brought the execution
pistol up to Keera’s face. “This will be a pleasure. I’m just glad you’re
standing. I would hate for you to die on your knees, begging and pleading like
your father.”

Keera stared at the man with defiance. She could not stop
the tears from welling in her eyes. “No matter what you say, you’ll never be
the man he was.”

“Thank the gods.” Distor spat back. Flexing his finger to
pull the trigger, Distor heard a voice behind him.

“Hey you.” Distor turned in time to feel Abel’s blow land
on the side of his face. He collapsed back into the corner of the doorway.
Keera stumbled past Distor as Abel grabbed her.

“Are you okay?” He said.

“I’m fine now.” Keera said as she composed herself.

Abel slide Keera behind him as he held the gun in his hand
looking down at Distor. The Facility leader’s gun was lying next to him, but
not close enough to do him any good. Distor took the palm of his hand and wiped
the blood from the corner of his mouth as he gathered himself.  He stood to his
feet, his eyes fixed on Abel. “That’s the best you’ve got. No wonder all you
scum are all dying of dehydration.”

“But somehow here I stand.” Abel said pointing his gun at
the commander.

“Well everyone has a lapsed moment. You can’t blame me for
that.” Distor raised his hands.

Abel’s eyes were cold as ice as he stared at Distor. “You
don’t remember me do you?”

“I don’t remember the name of the man who shines my shoes
on a daily basis.” Distor responded. “So why would I remember the name of a
vagrant.”

“Well, I’ll help jog your memory.” Abel kept the weapon
trained on Distor as he recounted his journey. “My name is Abel. You landed in
Gravope weeks ago. You killed my father for violating the Water Protocol and
left my mother for dead, all under Xonox’s orders. My path to Xonox has led me
to you. Isn’t it strange how quickly things change?” 

Distor was unmoved. “What’s changed? I’m still the
commander of this Facility. And you’re still nothing. You and your
girlfriend.” 

“You know.”  Abel began as his hand tightened on the handle
of the gun. “I thought you were going to beg for mercy, but I’m glad you
didn’t.”

“So what now? Are you going to shoot me? That’s fine as
long as you know you won’t make it out of this place alive.” Distor threatened.

Abel holstered his weapon. “No. I’m not going to shoot you.
That would be too easy.”

Keera was shocked. “Abel what are you doing. Just shoot
him.”

“No. He embarrassed and killed both of our fathers. I want
to give him a taste of how it feels to be on the other end.” Abel walked
towards Distor. The commander began to lower his hands and his head cringed as
if he were cowering before them. Abel thought he was submitting to try and
soften the punishment. When Abel was in range, Distor whispered under his
breath. “You really are ignorant.”

Distor charged Abel and slammed him into the wall on the
other side of the room. Abel was stunned by the man’s speed and aggressiveness.
He had not expected Distor to fight back at all. Pain shot up Abel’s spine as
the corner of the wall dug into his back. He was able to gain his composure and
hook Distor under his arms, slinging him into the adjacent door. Distor
regained his balance quicker than Abel expected. The commander punched him in
the ribs. Abel groaned as another blow landed on the opposite side of his body.
Distor stepped forward to land another shot. Abel blocked and slammed his fist
into the side of the Facility leader’s face. Distor fell back and Abel pressed
the attack. He rushed in using his forearm under Distor’s neck to bar him
against the wall. The commander struggled free turning Abel to the wall and
punching him in the kidney. The arena champion spun around and swung wide and
slow, missing his mark. Distor did not, as the uppercut connected with Abel’s
chin sending him to the ground.

Keera shouted from behind. “No! Abel!”

Distor twisted and struck Keera in the face with the edge
of his elbow. She flew across the room and slumped against the door. Blood
dripped from her nose onto her shirt as she lay unconscious. Distor looked down
at Abel watching his opponent struggle to regain his senses. He slid the
cutlass slowly from his scabbard and held it at waist level.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Distor smiled as he spoke.
“You underestimated me and you should not have. People have done it my whole
life and I’ve used it to my advantage. It’s one of the reasons I’ve risen
through the ranks so rapidly. It’s my discipline, it’s my training. It’s the
reason the good of the Collective will always overcome the evil of you
rabble-rousers.”

Lifting the cutlass high above his head, Distor prepared to
end this battle with one strike. Abel was clearly in no position to protest.
Distor held the blade above his head. “Well. This is a first.  You’re not going
to beg? Your kind normally does.”

“Never.” Abel declared.

Distor flexed his arm and gritted his teeth. His cutlass
swung forward and simultaneously Abel kicked his right knee throwing him off
balance. Distor fell into the doorway, as Abel rose to his feet. He wiped the
sweat from his face with the back of his arm, watching the sword in his
opponent’s hand. The commander held the sword out with two hands, creating a
barrier between him and Abel. Distor thought about reaching for his gun, but he
knew there was no time. He would have to put the boy down with his sword. As he
looked at the cold lenses of Abel’s eyes shooting daggers at him, he thought it
may be easier said than done. Distor steadied himself and lunged at Abel,
swiping the sword across his body. The man from Gravope contorted his torso as
he jumped back, the tip of the blade dangerously close to cutting him in half.
Abel sprung forward catching Distor and smashing his head into the wall. The
commander flailed almost injuring Abel with the blade. He wrestled the sword
from Distor and punched him in the throat. The commander clutched his neck as
his breathing became labored. Abel knew he had him now. He moved in for the
kill when suddenly Distor pulled out the semi-automatic handgun and shot twice.
Abel rolled away instinctively. He was sure the next shot would find him.
Distor trained the gun on him, but he never pulled the trigger as his body
lurched involuntarily and he dropped the weapon, it clanged against the floor.
The man who’s every action centered around ascension to the House of Vancrew,
looked down at the red circle growing large on his chest. His arms slackened,
confusion spread across his face. It was almost as if he was asking, how did
this happen? His body stiffened like a wooden board and he fell back flat with
a thud. Keera held the revolver in her hand. She had used the same pistol to
end the executioner’s life that he had used to extinguish the lives of
countless others. Abel slowly stood up and made his way across the room holding
the of his head. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

Keera dabbed the fluids from her face with her forearm
sleeve. “I think that makes us even now.”

“Fair enough.” Abel reached out his hand to help her up.

“I think…I think I’ll stay here for a second.” She said

“I understand.” Abel could hear Warden’s people clearing
the corridor, so he knew they were safe for the moment. He took out the comm
device and patched in to Warden. “Warden. Distor’s dead. We’re clearing some of
the guards now. Send reinforcements when you can. We’ll work from the top of
the facility to the bottom. You do the reverse.”

“I’m sending more of Goll’s team now.” Warden replied. “Tommie
and Goll are still clearing the courtyard.”

“Good. We’re almost there…” Abel was cut off in the middle
of his sentence.

“Not now…” Warden remarked. His voice trailed off.

“Warden? Warden what is it?”

Before Warden could respond, Abel could hear the muzzled
roar of the motorcycle engines through the comm growing louder as they
approached. Abel knew the sound all too well, bike gangs. And there was a large
number if the sound was any indication. The last thing Abel heard was Warden
shouting commands as the comm went silent.

CHAPTER 19

INNER CIRCLE

The Scorpions were closing fast, a huge cloud of dust rose
behind them. It was a band of raiders, thieves and murderers converging on the
Facility. They were spread out across the expanse of the dirt road numbering in
the hundreds, with Warden’s forces square in their sights. Warden barked orders
to his stalwart group as he fell behind the barricade of the vehicles preparing
for the impending barrage. On his right side, Goll’s warriors were streaming
from the woods, but now at a faster pace. One voiced boomed over the wail of
the engines. 

The leader of the gang rode in the center of the group and
screamed one last order. “Kill everything that moves.”

No sooner had Reaper spoke his murderous words the gang
yelled their moniker in maniacal unison. “Scorpions!”

Reaper stopped short, almost one hundred yards off the
Facility entry. He stayed back with twenty-five ruffians and a large, red truck
behind him. The former ice cream truck was painted a deep red, with a black
scorpion across each door. One claw of the scorpion was open, the other claw
was closed. The rest of the bikers closed in and separated into two lines, each
motorcycle wheel inches from the rider in front and behind them. The lead gang
member fired his weapon on Warden’s position, the bullets from the Uzi clanked
off the side of the trucks in rapid succession. The bikes looped in an arching
U-turn as the next biker fired on their position and so on down the line.
Shooting indiscriminately from the choreographed two looping ovals, the gang
was causing significant damage to Warden’s opposing force. Members of Goll’s
group were struck down as they attempted to reach the barrier between the gang
and the building. Others dove for cover and poked their heads from behind their
respective shields to get a good shot on the gang. As Warden’s sharpshooters in
the tower began to return fire on the miscreants, bikes began to slide out of
formation and off into the forest as the rider lost control. The wheel of one
of the metal horses was shot out and the bike crashed into the jeep on Warden’s
right flank. Twisted metal entangled the biker as the woman’s mangled form
draped over the front of the wheel. Still holding the handlebar in one hand,
the gang member pulled the pin of a grenade with the other.  The vehicle
exploded, flipping back towards the Water Facility walls, killing the usurpers
inside and around it. Some of the bikers began dismounting and charging the
Facility with hands gripping their knives and hoisting their guns in the air,
screaming like wild dogs, the scarves covering their faces only revealing the
madness of their red eyes. The gangs attacked with a ferocity that quickly
started to overcome the untrained townspeople in Warden’s army. Warden’s inner
circle was holding strong, but the objective of the battle had turned. They had
gone from flanking and securing the Facility to countering the outside attack,
while suppressing the forces within. Goll was in the middle of the battle,
using one end of his shotgun to end biker’s lives and the other end to severely
injure them. He also used his gloved leather hands to crush in the face of one
biker and the throat of another. Luchi was also faring well, with his spiked
mace in one hand and pistol in the other. He was a whirlwind of death, sweeping
the leg of one Scorpion, crashing the mace across the chest of another and
finishing the fallen biker with his pistol.  Even with the skills of Warden’s inner
circle on display, the Scorpions were steadily advancing. Worse yet, Warden’s
forces were being overwhelmed and were falling all about him. He could see a
few of the villagers, who swore to look fear in the eye this day, scrambling
into the woods to escape the carnage. Warden finally pulled his gun shooting a
Scorpion closing in on his position. He fired again sending another rogue to
his grave. Warden smashed his fist into the side of another biker’s face, and
then took out his comm device. Taking a breath, as he surveyed the battle
around him, Warden radioed to Dazshal to start advancing down from the ridge to
give them more cover. The snipers were doing their best, but there were too
many of the gang members to be effective. His platoon was being beaten back. He
had to get to the Scorpions’ leader and even the battle out. Warden stepped
back and adjusted the belt around his waist. The brown thick leather strap ran
to a buckle, and then branched up to a taut harness that ran across his body up
to his left shoulder. In the middle of the strap was a rectangular, metallic
fastener. Upon first glance there was nothing out of the ordinary about the
clip. But upon further inspection, those with knowledge of war and weaponry
knew exactly what Warden possessed and why he used it sparingly. He pressed on
the circular impression in the center of the fastener, and then moved his hand
away. He could feel the surge of energy and the crackle of blue sparks began to
expand from the circle until they formed a curved barrier in front of him. As
if on cue a bullet deflected off the energy field. Warden pulled out his sword
with his other hand, jumped onto the front wheel of the truck in front of him
and propelled himself over the vehicle into the fray. He landed in the middle
of three bikers. The first attacker’s bullet ricocheted off his shield. Warden
wasted no time, shooting him between the eyes, thrusting his sword into the
second and spinning around to slam his elbow into the third. He finished him
off with a single shot. No sooner had the shot repeated when a hulking gang
member yelled a war cry as he drove a sledgehammer down towards him. Warden
blocked the attack with his sword and brought the gun up to the man’s bare
chest. As his skin exploded red, Warden ducked as a bat swung over his head.
Rolling on his back he kicked his feet out to catch the biker in the chest. He
landed on her and stabbed the sword down once, while firing on two more gang
members in succession. He ran towards four more bikers, with no fear of their
weapons. He plowed his knees into the men’s faces hearing the bones crack on
impact. Before he hit the ground he shot another biker and beheaded the other.
Warden began to clear a path to the leader. Bullets and knives were being
repelled by the shield. When the gang members realized there was an invisible
force protecting Warden, they were gurgling blood from his blow. In a matter of
minutes, Warden had used his speed, weapons, knees and elbows to send twenty
bikers sprawling across the dirt. His gun had run out of ammunition and he had
no time to reload. Using the butt of the gun, he slammed the weapon into the
face of the stream of aggressors. He plunged the sword through another’s body.
The man held the blade taut, causing Warden to loosen his grip. He spun around,
crashing the palm of his left hand into a biker’s face, crushing the larynx of
another with his right hand. He smashed his elbow against a biker’s chest and
punched another to the ground. One biker shouted his outrage in the calamity and
rushed Warden barehanded hoping to grab him in a bear hug. Warden flipped
backwards, landed on his feet and with blinding speed killed two more bikers.
The large biker rushed again, but Warden was too quick, avoiding his grasp and
still maiming gang members. Finally Warden tired of the game. The man rushed
him again, but instead of retreating, he shot forward using the top of his head
as a weapon. The biker fell back with his face a red cloud of gore. He was dead
before he hit the ground. All of a sudden, as the tide of the battle was
turning in the rebel’s favor, two metallic disks landed near two of the
remaining trucks forming the barricade. The vehicles erupted in flames killing
the Warden’s soldiers and the Scorpions alike. A man stepped from the brush
with his long trench coat, metal plated breastplate and colored goggles. The
Mountie began firing rounds at his targets and Warden’s people were dying
quicker than they were before. Warden shifted his body as he retrieved his
sword to down another biker and began to make his way to the mercenary. Another
of his followers fell near him as the bullets pierced the ‘W’ stitched onto his
vest.  Before Warden could clear the distance, yet another rebel met a similar
fate. The Mountie was squeezing the trigger faster than rebel leader’s legs
would move.