The Legend (2 page)

 

chapter 2

F
or the next two days I lie in that bed feeling increasingly frustrated. Henry removed my drip on day two, once I started eating and drinking again on my own. He also asked Veronica to give me a bed bath, which I refused out of sheer stubborn pride. The kind doctor has limited my visitors to a select few, and Alex is the most frequent. He is in excellent spirits now that he knows I am going to be okay, and he regales me with stories about school and his friends. From the frequent mention of her name, I gather that he has been spending most of his time with Brooke, the young girl we saved on our travels to the west coast. Alex also seems to take for granted that his father and I are back together now that Aidan has recovered his memory. I do not have the heart to correct this assumption. Aidan and Reed are conspicuous by their absence and, although this surprises me, I am grateful that I don't have to deal with the cloying claustrophobia of their attention.

In the early hours of the morning on day three, true to her nature, Jenna sneaks into my room.

“Becca girl!” Oblivious of my fragile state, she throws her arms around me and squeezes me far too tightly for someone who is so incredibly petite.

“Jenna,” I wheeze, and she releases me, pulling up the chair and draping herself over it like a cover girl. She is wearing a short fuchsia pink skirt and a white tank top – singularly inappropriate attire for the Rebeldom. But then Jenna has never been practical with her wardrobe, always choosing form over function.

“You gave us all quite a scare,” she announces accusingly, as if I might have done it on purpose.

“Sorry.”

“I knew you'd pull through; you always do.”

“Thanks,” I laugh despite myself. “Your confidence in me is inspiring.”

“So,” she lowers her voice conspiratorially, “Aidan's memory is back.” She waggles her perfectly groomed eyebrows.

“Yeah,” I sigh.

“Well, that answers a question I've been dying to ask you. What are you going to do?” Typically, Jenna's first question has to do with my romantic involvements.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I just . . . I can't deal with them right now, Jen. There's just too much . . . I have bigger things to worry about.”

“Oh, yeah. I overheard your dad talking,” she presses. “He said your abilities aren't working?”

“They'll come back.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I've seen it before.” Reed was also temporarily robbed of his abilities after he had been shot trying to save Aidan's life. Any life-threatening injury seems to strip us temporarily of our abilities.

“And if they don't?” Jenna will not let it go, and she is eyeing me closely, watching my reaction.

“They will.” I am adamant. I will have my procedures again if I have to. I have a score to settle.

Jenna drops the subject and we chat for a few more minutes, but I barely take in a word of what she is saying. The second she is out of the room, I throw off my blankets.

“You shouldn't be out of bed,” Henry scolds when he enters a moment later carrying a glass of orange juice and what looks like porridge for my breakfast.

“Just get me some clothes,” I snap.

He grudgingly fetches me a pair of grey sweatpants and a blue V-necked jersey, along with a pair of slippers. He beats a hasty retreat as I start to undress, tossing the cotton nightshirt aside, but he re-enters as soon as I am done.

“I need shoes,” I point out.

“I don't have any here, but I can get someone to fetch you a pair.” He pauses, and then tries again. “You should rest.”

“I've rested enough.” Declining his help, I make my way from the room and head down the passageway. I don't recognise my surroundings at all.

“Are you insane?” Reed roars, catching me as I fall. I made it only halfway down the corridor unaided. “What the hell are you doing out of bed?” I knock aside his arm, which has encircled my waist, supporting me.

“I'm going home,” I reply cuttingly. “I'm going to have a shower, clean myself up, and then I want everyone in the Gold Room in an hour.”

Like Aidan, Reed eyes me quizzically, finally sensing the change in me. A look of comprehension flits across his face, followed by something I can't identify. Relief? Fear? Understanding? Unlike Aidan, however, Reed fights fire with fire.

“Okay. Firstly, as much as I agree with you getting cleaned up because I don't actually think anyone can stand the smell any more, you can't go home. Because
home
is almost two thousand miles away. No Gold Room either,” he adds sarcastically.

“Where the hell are we?” I narrow my eyes in confusion.

“Gainesville, Georgia, love,” he smiles, his green eyes sparkling with amusement.

Unbelievably, our entire community had travelled over two thousand miles through the Rebeldom to get here. I learn that they left the morning after I had been captured by NUSA – General Ross and my father had overseen the entire operation. It had been Kwan who had fetched Reed and the two of them had come to my rescue, while the others had travelled across the country to find a new home for our people. Nevada was no longer safe, now that NUSA had discovered the location of our headquarters. It was a devastating blow and we had lost resources it had taken the Resistance years to accumulate.

Reed regards me steadily, an unreadable expression on his face. His hair has fallen into his eyes, and it irritates me far more than usual.

“You're really going to be okay,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and I can hear the underlying relief in his voice as he lets his guard down.

“I'm fine,” I insist, feeling uncomfortable, “and I'm not going back to bed.”

In the end he consents to helping me through to the new meeting room and orders me to stay put while he rounds up the council.

My father is the first to arrive.

“You feeling okay?” he asks, but I notice he stays on the opposite side of the table.

“Where exactly are we?” I ask, changing the subject and glancing around the room. It is very grand – all cream walls and oak panelling, albeit a little rundown. The long table in the centre seats eighteen people, the cracked leather chairs a faded cerulean blue.

“Lakeside Military Academy,” my father replies. “It's our new base of operations. Two hundred and six acres nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the shores of Lake Lanier.”

“Our entire community is here?” I ask incredulously. There were a little less than two thousand people living in Nevada.

“No,” my dad shakes his head. “The Legion is here, a few civilians, and of course Adam and his men. The rest are in town. Norman and Cathy – my cousins – have been helping them settle in and finding room for everyone. There are probably about three hundred of us here on campus.”

“Where is everyone staying?”

“The dorms in the barracks complex. I understand that in its day the school housed over four hundred and fifty students, so we have plenty of space. We do, however, have a few of the former students to contend with.”

“What do you mean?”

“A few of the boys who attended here in 2016. They stayed and, even more surprisingly, they survived. We've had a bit of trouble convincing them to give up what they feel is their rightful home.”

“Let Adam deal with them.” I brush off this insignificant little problem. There is no way a few stubborn, overprotective men are going to stand in my way.

“Nice to see you up and around, Rebecca,” Adam's soft voice sounds to my left and I glance across to see him standing in the doorway. Archer, Crackerjack and Aidan follow right behind him. Adam, with his dark skin and pale eyes, looks as though he has aged ten years since I last saw him. Deep lines are etched around his mouth and there is a hollow, haunted look about him that could only be the result of Hope's death. Adam's daughter Hope was another victim of Kenneth Williams; she had been murdered by one of his NUSA soldiers when they attacked our Las Vegas headquarters.

“Adam,” I nod at the older man and then avert my eyes as the others file into the room.

Michael is the next to arrive, followed by the General, David, and Veronica and Jethro. I notice that Veronica quickly drops Jethro's hand as they enter, and he gives her a small knowing smile. Veronica has always been terrified of the General. Embarrassed by the emotional greetings, I am relieved when everyone finally takes their seats, all of them glancing at me expectantly. All except Aidan, whose eyes are downcast. Aidan was a temporary member of the Ordinary when he had amnesia, and I wonder idly why he is permitted a seat on the council. Reed saunters in a moment later and takes his usual position on my right. The General is on my left.

“Where are Kwan and Morgan?” I ask, panicking as I suddenly notice their absence.

Relief courses through me when Michael answers, trying to disguise the concern in his own voice.

“They haven't come back from their raid. They were due back a few hours ago.”

“I'm sure your sister is fine, son,” my dad soothes. “She can take care of herself. You know sometimes there are delays getting back. I wouldn't worry about it just yet.”

I notice that most of the faces around me are pale with dark circles under their eyes. Archer yawns widely and Jethro is slouched in his chair as if he is about to fall asleep any second.

“Have you all been on raids today?” I ask.

“Most of them.” It's my father who answers. “A few just got back.”

“How are they going?” I hate that I have been out of the loop for so long. I have no idea what is going on with my own army. I look to Reed, but he shrugs his massive shoulders.

“Don't ask me, I have no idea.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, registering Aidan's malevolent glare at Reed.

“Reed hasn't been on any of the raids yet, Bex,” my father interrupts softly, warning me to let it go.

“Oh.” It dawns on me that the only reason he wouldn't be fighting with the Legion is because he wouldn't leave my side. In the uncomfortable silence that follows this, I cast around for a change of subject, but am mercifully saved by the arrival of Kwan Lee and Morgan Kelly. Kwan looks much the same, although a little tired, but Morgan's right cheek is sporting a large blackening bruise, and her left hand is bandaged.

“Morgan!” Michael yelps, leaping to his feet and bounding over to his sister. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she shakes her head, dismissing his concern. “I'm fine. I'm sorry we're late,” she adds, addressing the room in general.

“Rebecca,” Kwan makes his way around the table and rests his hand briefly on my shoulder. “It's good to see you.”

“You too,” I smile. “What kept you?”

“It looks like NUSA has finally cottoned on to our plan and are taking preventative measures. There were a few more guards than we had anticipated. Nothing serious, but they managed to pin Morgan down. I couldn't get to her quickly enough.”

I can see it, the guilt simmering just below the surface. Kwan is very fond of his protégée, and I can only imagine how hard it was for him to watch her suffering and not be able to do anything about it.

“I'm fine,” Morgan insists from across the table. Morgan hates being treated any differently from the other Legion soldiers. There are not many women in our army, and certainly none that have Morgan's exceptional skills. She takes her training very seriously.

“I'm just glad I was there this time,” Kwan grins.

“What do you mean, this time?” I interrupt.

“Well, usually we have our own teams but a few soldiers needed to rest, so we joined forces today.”

“Morgan has her own team?” I ask incredulously, oblivious to the fact that Morgan's eyes are narrowing dangerously.

“Yes,” she calls haughtily, defying me to challenge this. To be honest, although the thought does occur to me, I am too shocked to argue.

“She's not a child.” Reed seems to sense exactly what I'm thinking. His words are barely more than a whisper, but they carry a low warning.

“We'll get to that later. So, how are the raids going?”

“We've been following the same strategy you proposed before . . . before you were hurt,” Kwan seems to struggle with the words. “We've been targeting small sections of the boundary fences at a time and taking out ten to twenty guards before retreating and making our way back. As I mentioned, NUSA seems to be taking countermeasures – there were over thirty guards at the raid today.”

“At the last count we had taken out a hundred and fifty NUSA soldiers, so I guess we can bring that up to one hundred and eighty,” the General waves a beefy hand in Veronica's direction and she quickly scribbles this down on her clipboard.

“How long have you been raiding?” I am hungry for information, having missed out on so much.

“Two weeks. We started shortly after we arrived, but it takes time to travel back to the States.”

I do a quick mental calculation. Even at an average of twenty soldiers per raid, it seems unlikely that they have carried out nine raids in as little as two weeks.

It is Kwan who notices my puzzled expression and he adds quietly, “The one hundred and eighty includes about sixty soldiers that we disposed of at Cook County last month.”

A hushed silence follows these words.
Reed.
Reed and Kwan killed those soldiers when they got me out of Chicago. A memory fills my head of Reed, beautiful and bloodthirsty, his face a mask of unadulterated fury, as he stormed into the cell I was being held in, seeking vengeance.

“That makes sense then,” I state, keeping my voice light.

“It wasn't enough,” Aidan bites out from across the table, although there is reluctant admiration in his voice.