Messiahs, Matt Rogers [best 7 inch ereader TXT] 📗

He ushered nearly a dozen of the fittest, strongest men into a tight cluster, then silently commanded the rest to hang back.

The air went still.

Dane pointed at Violetta and said something to the pack. King couldn’t hear what was said above the noise of the alarm. Then Dane’s finger point moved over to King, and Dane drew a line across his own throat.

Message received.

King didn’t hesitate. He took Violetta by the hand and ran with her into the mess hall, slamming one of the entrance doors open and spilling into the perimeter corridor circling the main cavernous space. They ran down the hallway in the dark, the shadows swallowing them.

Violetta panted with fear and struggled to control her emotions.

As they ran he said, ‘What happened with Maeve?’

She filled him in.

His insides twisted.

The fear was insidious on Violetta’s breath. ‘Jason…’

‘I know,’ he said, forcing himself to remain stoic. ‘I know what this means.’

Outside the building’s walls, distant cries echoed across the grassland.

Of elation, of ecstasy, of purpose.

Violetta said, ‘What do we do?’

Each syllable wavered.

He found an unlocked door leading into the giant main space and ushered her through. The mess hall was spotless, every speck of dust and residue cleaned away by the disciples. The long tables shone under the overhead lights that stayed on all night. The benches were empty. Not a soul about.

King led her to the other end of the hall, hoping to find an exit they could slip out of before the disciples surrounded the building. He came to a door set beside the long countertop where meals were served. He tried it. Locked.

He swore for no one but Violetta to hear.

She said, ‘We can’t blow our cover. We can talk our way out of this, I’m sure of it. It’s understandable that you got spooked, that I got spooked. We can explain…’

King looked at her. He knew his eyes were steel.

He said, ‘No way.’

‘Jason…’

‘Fuck the cover,’ he said. ‘Fuck all of this. The cover’s blown anyway, isn’t it? Why else would Maeve say the baby’s the second coming of Gaia?’

‘How would she know?’ Violetta said. ‘It’s highly goddamn improbable that she knows our identities considering our own government doesn’t know where we are … there’d be nothing in the files that revealed I’m pregnant.’

‘Have you told anyone?’ King said. ‘Anyone at all?’

Violetta racked her brains. He could see the memories flying past behind her eyes. She stopped on one of them. Her face cringed.

King said, ‘When?’

‘I cramped in front of Brandon and Addison,’ she said. ‘On our first night here, in the mess hall. But that could have been anything. Period pains, stomach bug, you name it…’

‘They told Maeve,’ King said. ‘And Maeve guessed. She bluffed, and you didn’t call it. But I think she also knows who we really are. That’s why she’s acting this way. I think she believes her own delusions.’

‘It’s not a front,’ Violetta agreed. ‘She honestly thinks my child is a sign from the gods. How does she lead these people if she believes what she’s feeding them?’

‘I think her head’s a mess. She doesn’t know what she believes.’

‘We need to get out of here,’ Violetta said, trying not to hyperventilate. ‘Bunker down, lay low, regroup. Otherwise…’

King tensed up, staring over her shoulder.

She froze.

King said, ‘Looks like it’ll have to be “otherwise.”’

She turned.

Disciples bled into the mess hall through the twin entrances on the other side of the space. They moved in silence, their hands bare. No one was armed. Even though Maeve and Dane might know who the newcomers truly were, the message hadn’t been passed down to the followers just yet.

They thought they could do this through sheer force of numbers.

And maybe they could.

King counted eleven disciples stepping in.

All men.

The de facto foot soldiers.

89

Bodhi had Slater zoned in like nothing else.

At massive doses, the compound was insane.

Now, with the afterglow of a heroic dose coursing through him, he was twice as focused.

Elias stood there, completely vulnerable, trying to harness his invisible energy. It didn’t seem to work, because he threw the next strike dejectedly, aiming for Slater’s centre mass, hoping to wind him.

Slater tensed his chest and took the blow where it was intended to land.

It bounced off his pectorals.

It did nothing.

Slater said, ‘You’ve only used this on helpless hostages, haven’t you?’

Silence.

Elias threw another strike, harder than the second, putting his whole being into it.

Slater jerked into another shoulder roll and the side of Elias’ hand smacked off his shoulder again.

No factor.

Slater said, ‘This is a fight, Elias. I can fight back.’

Elias kept valiantly attempting to master his ki and he stepped in for a close-range elbow, a move he must have practiced well over ten thousand times. He executed it fluidly. His cocked right arm swung with impressive speed.

Slater stepped aside.

The elbow missed.

Slater said, ‘How many dissidents have you killed for the Riordans?’

Elias swung again with the same elbow.

Slater shoulder rolled.

Took the blow across his upper arm.

Slater said, ‘How much power did that give you? How did it make you feel?’

Elias’ eyes were burning, his face twisted. He threw a barrage of punches and elbows, treating Slater like a Wing Chun dummy, emptying his gas tank on the mu ren zhuang. He did everything right, everything that martial arts had taught him. He didn’t allow his emotions to take over, didn’t let the rage creep in and affect his composure. He threw his attacks with pinpoint precision, using the full extent of his anatomy.

But he overlooked one critical aspect.

He always had.

The fact that he’d never trained against a resisting opponent.

Slater caught one of the elbows and threw it aside and got right up in Elias’ face. He kept the knowledge that Elias had murdered defenceless followers in the back of his head, so he didn’t hold back. He headbutted the guy in the jaw, cracking the bone, which put Elias in a dark place the kid had never felt before. It’s easy to stay within the confines of your comfort zone and never train to face adversity,