Winter's Legacy: Future Days (Winter's Saga Book 6) (31 page)

71
  Battle Ensues

“Just one last thing,” Meg cocked her head at the watching soldiers.  “Tell them.”

“Tell them what?” Arkdone used the back of his hand to catch the droplets of blood slowly trickling from his mouth.

“So everyone here knows the terms of our agreement—tell them.  Both of you.” Meg looked between Williams and Arkdone.

“Fine,” he huffed.  Then to the crowd he made a
n announcement.  “Let it be known.  If Meg wins this match, she will be released to her family unharmed.  All of you will leave Texas and never return—leaving the Winter Clan to live in peace.” 

Murmurs growled throughout the crowd.  Arkdone raised his hand to silence them. 

Williams spoke up, “If Arkdone wins, we still leave her family untouched.”  The voices of the bloodthirsty crowd rose.  Williams raised his raw hand to quiet them.  “However, Meg gives her word that she will act as her family’s sacrificial lamb.  She will submit to us voluntarily.  Her body and blood are ours—no resistance—until her death.”

A roar of approval erupted underscored by the rhythmic pounding of rifle butts into the nearest hard services.

Meg looked around at the savage display.  Her eyes caught those of a soldier with flaming red hair.  Immediately, Meg sensed him project a very personal hatred toward her.  Secondly, she felt the distinct sensation of him trying to push his thoughts toward her.  They buzzed like cicadas around her until she pushed him out.  The final thought was one of concern.  His mind pressed like Arkdone’s.  He had some psychic ability and he knew how to wield it. 

Meg forced her mind back on the real life
-or-death battle circling her. 

“Happy?” Arkdone sneered.

“Let’s get this over with,” she moved catlike to the side keeping a calculated distance from his reach. 

The rhythmic pounding of weapons into the ground shook the earth beneath Meg’s boots.  Her fists were raised protectively by her face, her legs moving methodically against the pounding vibrations. 

Wild creatures who called this patch of land home turned their backs on the combatants offering only silence—as though Mother Nature herself sucked in a deep breath through clenched teeth.

Meg’s long, dark tresses were pulled back in a tight braid at the back of her head.  She wore a long sleeved, black T-shirt and black cargo pants that had slipped down to hang from her hips without the support of her weapons belt.  The effect caused a line of her olive-skinned
midriff to peek out.  Soldiers around her leered at her striking beauty.  Meg ignored everyone except her opponent.

Arkdone outweighed Meg by seventy
pounds and stood eight inches taller.  His custom-made dress shirt concealed his enhanced physique compliments of a version of the Infinite serum predating Meg.  As he clenched his fists, the muscles in his tan forearms rippled.  Meg studied his movements looking for a pattern she could use to predict where and how he would strike.

There was no pattern. 

He shifted from left to right fluidly showing no dominant preference. 

His movements were predatory.

Arkdone basked in the attention.  A smile etched itself across his smug face giving Meg pause.

His attack was swift and severe.

He reached out and grabbed her hair, yanking her head down. 

Instinctively, she grabbed his hand with both of hers, gouging her fingernails into the pressure points between his knuckles and took two giant steps back, dragging him down with her. 

He had to let go and catch himself before he hit the ground, but Meg had other plans.  She grabbed his head and smashed his face into her knee repeatedly before throwing him down to the ground and kicking him in the ribs.

Arkdone was still grinning through the blood smeared from his shattered nose. 

He flipped onto his side and sent a powerful kick into her knee.  Meg felt a sharp pop before buckling to the ground.  He sprung up and moved to pounce.  Meg rolled away barely escaping his landing. 

Praying to God that her knee would still support her, she leaped to her feet, spun in the air and used both feet to hammer him in the chest.  On impact, Arkdone’s body flung back and whacked against the front grill of a parked Jeep. 

He casually moved to stand, but not before grabbing a handful of earth.  “That wasn’t very nice,” he hissed as he flung the dirt into Meg’s face. 

He hit his mark
.  The earth stung her eyes angrily, blurring her vision and throwing off her concentration.

“Come on Meg!  You were doing so well.  Don’t let the momentum stop!” he taunted.

Tears choked her vision.  She tried to keep her fists up, desperately working to blink the barbed granules from her eyes.  “Slinging dirt, Arkdone?  Really?  How childish,” she chided, stalling.

“Ah, but technically
still within the rules.”  He stalked her like prey.

Meg could
only see a blurry version of him grinning deviously at her. 

“I know I really must wind this up,”   He sucker punched her in the gut and watched her double-over, blind and breathless.  His elbow came down hard between her shoulder blades, slamming her to the ground. “But hurting you just feels so
right!
”

Meg flipped over a second too late.  Arkdone was on her.  His hands wrapped like hot steel around her throat, thumbs gouging painfully into her trachea.

“I have to say, I’m a little disappointed in you, Meg.”  He spoke between clenched teeth.  “I was expecting so much more fight out of you.”

Meg’s hands clutched his.  She raked at Arkdone’s knuckles, desperately trying to claw them loose before raising her hips and slamming her butt down, crunching her forearms over his.  The move had him off balance and no longer able to use the weight of his body to press into the vulnerable flesh at her neck.

She used the momentum to jerk her knee up hard, kneeing him in a way that would have rendered any other man immobile. 

The pain she caused only seemed to
enrage her attacker.

Not letting up, she fought to shift her hips and pulled her knees tight to her chest and kicked against his rock-hard chest. 

Arkdone was thrown back just long enough for Meg to get to her feet.  Though her eyes still stung, her vision was returning. 

Dark bruising in the distinct shape of his hands blossomed on her neck.  She shoved aside the panic she felt knowing how close she’d been to blacking out. 

Arkdone lowered his head and ran full-speed at her chest.  Her body slammed into the side of a supply truck.  A half-dozen metamonarchs and metahumans, who had been using the vehicle as elevated vantage to enjoy the match, cheered at the crunchy, wet thwack her head made against the solid metal. 

Arkdone’s attack was unrelenting.  He sent a barrage of blows to her c
ore, aiming for vital organs.  Dizzy with pain, Meg knew she needed to break away from him so instinctively she shifted away from his next strike causing the Senator to land his punch into the metal truck.  A fist-shaped dent was left in his wake.

Meg flung herself into a backflip, kicking Arkdone square in the jaw as she went.  She landed crouched before springing into a roundhouse slapping his ear with the sharp edge of her boot.

Still desperately trying to catch her breath, she retreated to the other side of the clearing. 

T
he roar of the crowd warned her he was on her heels.   

His hot hand grabbed the back of her head and propelled her forward, smashing her face into the gnarly trunk of the oak tree.  Meg felt the scratchy bark dig into her face and tried to keep the scream from escaping her open mouth.

“You’ll never cross me again.”  He yanked her arm back at an impossible angle and stomped on the backs of her knees, forcing her to collapse, bark raking itself into her flesh as she went.

He twisted her wrist with a vicious yank.  One move and several bones in her arm and hands would snap beneath his bear trap. 

She yelped in pain and frustration.  The pain in her arm searing as her muscles and tendons were forced into unnatural angles.

Frantic, she struggled only to feel her body begin to break under his torturous grip.  She stilled panting through the pain, on her knees while Arkdone released an inhuman howl of delight over her. 

“You have no choice, little Megglet, champion of the Winter Clan,” he mocked.  “Admit defeat now and I may make this a little less painful for you.” Arkdone’s wet breath trickled venom down her neck as he leaned even heavier against her contorted arm.

White
-hot pain scorched her body.  She forced herself to think past it.  “This isn’t over!” she growled defiantly.

“Of course it is,” he shook his head in mock pity.  “Don’t you understand your part in all this?” 

Meg’s mind franticly searched for a way out.

The pounding of weapons against the ground quickened to a frenzied pace as the crowd grew impatient.  Arkdone ignored them.

“Ah, but maybe you’re just not bright enough to have grasped the big picture.  After all, you are just the sacrificial lamb,” he cooed in mock disappointment and shifted his hold on her arm to exact pressure on her ring finger and snapped it.

The scream was at her throat faster than she could stifle it. 

  “But go ahead and bleat, little lamb.  You’ll lose your voice before I’m through.  I have no intention of making your death quick—”

Snap

“—or painless.” 

Meg’s head hung slack from her shoulders.  Her breathing was as erratic as her heartbeat.

She took a moment to steel herself.

Tortured emotions and physical agony spun out of control inside the girl forced to her knees surrounded by jackals—until she felt him. 

Creed.

Her family.

Just minutes away.

No!

Meg screamed above the chaos in her mind. 

Clarity blanketed her.  She lifted her head and looked over her shoulder, locking eyes with her tormentor.  

“This little lamb is not afraid of pain.” She yanked her body
toward the pain of Arkdone’s unrelenting hold and snapped her own arm to escape.

Arkdone lost his balance and staggered aside, giving Meg enough time to jump to her feet.  She leaped into the air and grab
bed the Senator’s neck between her ankles.  Her body continued its powerful spin, dragging Arkdone down to the ground, Meg’s knee crushing the side of his head at an impossible angle.  Her one good hand stabbed the pressure point behind his exposed ear.  Her left arm hung broken from her shoulder—a useless chunk of flesh and bone ignored.

“Checkmate,” she hissed shifting the weight to her knee exerting pressure powerful enough to snap his neck.

The audience gasped in disbelief as a knife thumped to the dirt beside Arkdone’s hand.  All eyes retraced its path to its origin.  Dr. Kenneth Williams’ smile was clearly insane, his hand still extended having just thrown the weapon into the match. 

“More blood!” he squealed.  “I want more blood!” His laughter echoed off the stunned expressions of the previously chanting soldiers. 

Arkdone didn’t need to wait another second.  His fingers curled around the blade’s handle and in one fluid motion he swung it up and into the exposed line of skin at her midriff.  The razor-like edges penetrated her flesh like it was butter only stopping when the cold hilt smacked snuggly against her goose-bumped skin.

72
  Silver

Meg’s pent-up scream whooshed from her now.  A primal cry of pain, betrayal and anguish resonated through every living creature around.  She collapsed to the ground.

The next ten seconds moved as though wading through neck
-deep mire. 

She felt the ground jump up and slap her on the side of her already bleeding face.  She heard the air whoosh from her chest.  She blinked once against the powdery plume of dust that rose, tickling her nose.  When she opened her eyes again she found herself staring at a chunk of flesh dangling from the tip of her finger.  Transfixed, she stared a
s a droplet of blood formed—a shade too light.  The weight of it tugged the flap that had been her fingertip before finding release in its fall—its impossibly slow fall—to the quivering earth below.

Quivering.

Pounding.

Rhythmically.

Meg frowned.  She tried to look beyond her fingertip, but only saw a silver light.

She blinked hard at the silver. 

The pain was floating away, but the silver was getting closer.

She heard a sharp series of barks, but only wanted to drift to sleep—to disconnect. 

Silver.

Wake up, Meg.
  A small voice screamed at her. 
You can’t give up now, soldier.  Move!

Meg forced her eyes wide just in time to see Maze leap over her.  She followed his beautiful silver undercoat and watched him slam into a thick form.

Maze!

Meg swiveled her head to follow the sight of her best friend tackle Arkdone to the ground, his dark muzzle buried deep into the monster’s throat.  She saw the look in Maze’s eyes and knew what would come next.  A primal ferocious growl preceded a vicious ripping sound. 

Arkdone, who had been screaming and beating the carnivore at his throat stopped his struggle instantly.  His arms and legs flopped to the ground.  In the silence that followed, only a sickening gurgling could be heard coming from the lifeless body beneath the coydog.

Maze stood panting through the flesh
, still warm as it dangled from his dark mouth.

“Maze,” Meg whispered, her functioning arm outstretched, reaching for the comfort of her
coydog’s thick fur. 

Maze spat the poisoned meat from his mouth and whined as he licked his muzzle. Two leaps and he was crouching atop his Meg protectively.  He gnashed his bloodstained teeth at everyone.

“Well, that was unexpected.”  Williams looked from the lifeless body of Senator Donovan Arkdone back to the wild dog crouching protectively over his daughter.

With the scent of coppery blood hanging heavy in the morning air, a surge of hunger for more violence rippled through the onlookers. 

Violence begets violence. 

The bloodlust was too much.  Knuckles whitened as weapons began to shift back to deadly firing positions.  Collectively, soldiers rolled their weight to the balls of their feet and began weaving ever so slightly, cobra-like, from side to side. 

Meg’s senses were alive.

She fought instinct and forced herself to release her grip on the flesh around the blade.  Knowing she only had a matter of seconds, she reached to one of the Velcro pockets of her cargo pants and yanked out a package.

Her hands trembled as she ripped it open with her teeth and laid it beside her.  She was only half listening to Williams as he began his rant.

“Well, this changes things, doesn’t it?” he was saying.  “I mean, technically, you won, but who am I to worry about technicalities?  I’d rather hoped you’d been killed just then.”  He frowned disapprovingly at Arkdone’s lifeless body.  “The idiot couldn’t even do that properly.”

Williams continued his dialogue oblivious of the surrounding mob ripe with violence.  The soldiers leaned in toward the center attraction—Meg and Maze. 

The redheaded male soldier shook with barely hinged, primal aggression.  Tendons on either side of his neck protruded serpent-like.

“I mean, after all, you’ve made your choice, my dear.  I’ve tried time and again to persuade you to think beyond your plastic loyalty to that woman.”  He had been pacing, eyes searching the ground as though he’d dropped something of value.  He glanced, unseeing toward Meg.  “Such a waste.”

Meg knew she had to hurry.  She could feel the warmth of her blood slipping down her side.  Gripping the handle of the blade she took a deep breath and wre
nched the five-inch blade out.  As the blade exited, so did a gush of blood. 

With a shaking hand, Meg grabbed the package and emptied the emergency blood clotting powder into the oozing wound.  It wasn’t designed to treat wounds as deep as hers, but it was all she had and she prayed to God that it would buy her enough time. 

“Well, Meg, time to die.”  Williams stopped pacing and looked directly into the animal eyes of Kerry Braden.  “Company Leader Braden.”   

“Sir, yes sir,” Kerry barked.

“Would you be so kind as to clean up the late Senator Arkdone’s mess?”

“With pleasure, sir.”

Kerry stepped forward and raised his gun.

Maze’s barks were ear piercing.  A coiled spring ready to snap, he carefully stepped over Meg and positioned himself between her and the
greasy, black barrel of the gun. 

A surge of strength gripped Meg. 

No!

She pushed her thoughts like projectiles directly into the soldier’s mind.

“Drop it.”

Kerry’s hand flew open as though shocked, the gun tumbling to the ground.

Meg closed her eyes briefly, recovering from the effort of forcing her will on the soldier.

“What are you doing, Braden?” Williams boomed.

“Sir, I—”  The expression on Braden’s face confirmed his confusion.  Just as he leaned down to retrieve the weapon, a distinct whoosh of a bullet made it jump out of reach.   

“Hasn’t there been enough death?” Meg spoke directly to Williams.

“Not nearly,” he hissed.

Stomach churning thumps of bullets penetrating skin had the crowd scattering for cover. 

Meg felt them long before she saw them.  Her family had arrived.

Now she could see proof of it as body after body crumpled to the ground.  Their surprise attack allow
ed perfect kill-shots.

73
A Time to Live, a Time to Die

“We should have found them by now,” Margo worried.

“Not if they camped in the clearing on the other side of the woods
.” Alik’s eyes searched the horizon.

“That must be what they did
,” Farrow chimed in from the back of the truck. 

“Any sign of the wolf?” Rhett asked.

“Coydog,” Margo and Alik corrected simultaneously.

“Maze is too fast
,” Evan answered.  “Once he’s picked up a scent—especially my sister’s—he’ll run his paws bloody until he finds her.”  Evan’s honey eyes never left the land in front of them, searching.  “He’s done it before.”

“The woods are straight ahead.” Creed’s vision was always a hair’s
breadth sharper than anyone else’s.

“We can’t take the truck through that,” Rhett squinted at the line of foliage in the distance.

“What do you want to do, Dr. Winter?”

Margo looked to Evan expectantly.  “What do you think?”

Evan reached for his mother’s hand and tried to untangle the knot of flashing images slapping him.  “I don’t know Mom.  I can’t get a clear picture.” 

Margo took a deep breath.  “Okay.  We split up.  Alik, Creed, Evan, Farrow and I will go by foot from here.  Rhett, you take your people by truck around the woods.  We’ll stay in touch by radio.”

“Copy that,” Rhett nodded once, accepting her orders as he would any superior’s.

The others were already hopping out of the truck.

“Thank you, Rhett.  If you get to Meg first, please—” Margo’s voice trailed.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to help her, Dr. Winter.”

“Thank you.” 

Margo jumped out of the truck and moved quickly into the grove of trees.  “Stay sharp,” she reminded the others following her lead. 
“Use hand signals from here on out.” 

Five minutes later, moving at a fast clip, the first sounds of b
loodthirsty cheers could be heard echoing through the morning foliage causing the family to alter their heading slightly.  The aggression in the voices spurred everybody to break into an all-out run.

Creed and Alik took the lead matching each other’s stride, dodging tree trunks and maneuvering across the uneven ground. 

The voices grew louder.  The half-brothers exchanged grim expressions before splitting up.  Alik ran north around the enemy camp and Creed ran south.  Behind them Margo signaled for Evan to follow Alik and Farrow to follow Creed.  She slowed her pace, crouching deeper as she moved and ran straight forward, right to the edge of the noise.

What she saw made the mother in her want to scream
in pain and the soldier in her want to puncture bullet holes in heads.

She opted to do both.

The first bullet aimed at Kenneth Williams, missed its target by a mere centimeter, instead striking a red-headed soldier who had the misfortune of being the nearest thing the Director ducked behind to save himself.  The bullet struck the red-head in the shoulder sending him spinning.

The rest of the bullets flying from each of the Berettas in her icy calm hands found their marks.  Her movements were fluid.  Years of martial arts training including gun katas dominated
her muscle memories.  Though she hadn’t used the technique in years, her body remembered the improvised dance of death—so brutal, she had never taught the skill to her children.

From her prone position Meg watched in awe at her mother’s rapid fire movements. 

Body after body hit the floor as Margo crouched, arms spread wide, seeming to fire blindly into the crowd, but her kill shots were precise.  One tap to the forehead and the enemy crumpled to the ground.

Margo had flown across the space that separated her from her daughter. 

Just as she moved to holster one of her spent weapons, the rest of the family took over the battle. 

For a moment, it looked as though Maze wasn’t going to let Margo near Meg.  His white teeth gnashed, lips pulled back in quivering rage as he barked
protectively. 

“Whoa, Maze.  It’s me,”  Margo cooed under her breath as she reached out to grab Meg’s one good arm.  Maze blinked his recognition and redirected his protective rage
at the bullets and battle around them. 

Margo
grabbed her daughter’s good arm and ran dragging her behind the nearest cover—a fallen tree and cluster of bushes surrounding it.  Maze stopped his tirade long enough to roughly lick Meg’s sweat-soaked face. 

Determined to see what was happening to her family, she moved to flip onto her belly, but Maze fought her.  He grabbed her by her vest and pulled her away from the log as though he wanted to
get her even further away from the danger. 

“Maze, it’s okay.  I have to help.  Stay low,” she whispered. 

“Stay here,” Margo slammed new magazines into her spent weapons and handed one to her daughter.  “Let us take care of you for once, Meg.” Margo brushed a curly lock of hair away from Meg’s eye and stood.

A
round them, the family was engaged in battle.  Bullet shells littered the ground as guns were emptied and tossed aside.  The sounds of hand-to-hand combat, grunts and skin-on-skin smacks replaced the gunfire.  

Alik and Evan were fighting back to back as more metahumans and
metamonarchs surrounded them. 

Creed and Farrow were another formidable team, but there were just too many to beat back.

Margo stayed near Meg, determined to protect her from any more harm. 

She had just taken out two hulking metahumans half her age when she
noticed Michelle Andrews running full speed toward her.

“You’re mine
!” Michelle barked, pushing  another soldier out of her way.

Margo didn’t waste time with words, she squared off, fists raised and ready.  Michelle outweighed her by at least fifteen pounds, and stood four inches taller, but
her most daunting attribute was the hatred in her eyes. 

Margo took a calming breath and circled her opponent. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Rhett and his company had arrived and were pouring themselves into the melee.  With their arrival the Winter’s odds were improved, but not by much.  The five to one ratio wasn’t fooling anyone.  If the others from 17th Company didn’t arrive immediately, they would be overtaken.  It was just a matter of time. 

Meg screamed at the sight of Creed being dragged to the ground with no fewer than seven soldiers.  His face was crammed into the
leaf-covered dirt and bodies piled atop him, but still he fought.  Meg watched in horror as a handgun was passed to the soldier closest to Creed’s head.