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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Yelling. Feet pounding. People shouting. Something hard hitting something soft, followed by a cry of pain. All of it sounding far away and meaningless. Mackenzie couldn't recall why she was on her back in the dirt, but she felt numb all over, and there was the sensation of pins and needles in her back.

  Mackenzie then felt rough hands grab her arms and yank her off the ground. Startled, her eyes snapped open and the adrenaline kicked in. She remembered the green dot on Lowe's chest, remembered something hitting her back and sending electricity coursing through her body. Looking around now, she saw a man on either side of her, both wrapped in layers of white and red clothes, their faces obscured by scarves covering the lower halves of their faces. Their eyes were covered by black goggles that looked similar to the pair she remembered Ethan wore while working on her bionic hand. These two men were dragging her on her feet to the side of the truck, where more strangely dressed men were forcing Abbas, Lowe, Bell and Jesse to their knees.

  Mackenzie started to struggle, kicking out and trying to pull her arms out of the strong grip each man held on her, but they were too strong for her to break free.

  "Let me go!" Mackenzie yelled, unsure if she was more angry or afraid. "Let go! Who are you? Get off me!"

  One of the two men suddenly swung a fist up into Mackenzie's stomach, knocking the wind out of her and causing her to double over in pain.

  "Hey!" Abbas roared.

  "Don't you touch her!" Jesse bellowed, even louder. He started rising to his feet, but one of the strange men hit him in the face with the butt of a rifle, splitting Jesse's lip and knocking him back down to his knees as blood ran down his chin.

  Mackenzie was pushed onto her knees beside the others, their backs to the side of the truck, the strange men standing before them, all of which were holding powerful-looking rifles.

  "Who are you?" Abbas demanded of them, his eyes flitting from man to man as he was unsure who to address first. Mackenzie realized he was trying to figure out who their leader was. "What do you want?"

  One of the men stepped forward, shoving his gun carelessly into the arms of one of his comrades. Mackenzie couldn't see his face behind the goggles and scarf, but he walked with certainty, as though nothing could touch him. He never looked away from Abbas as he approached. Once the gun was out of his hands, he lowered his hood and began to remove the scarf from his face. He unwound the material, still never looking away from Abbas, who also didn't look away from this intimidating stranger.

  Once the scarf was removed, the man lifted his goggles from his eyes, setting them atop his shaved head. As Mackenzie studied his face, the first thing she noticed about him was his mouth. It seemed as though his top lip had split but never healed. The man had a cleft lip that gave him a permanent sneer. Some of his teeth were exposed between the gap in his lip, one of which being his canine, giving him the appearance of a snarling Doberman. He had dark stubble on his face and his eyes were narrowed, either by the brightness of the sun without his goggles as protection, or perhaps it was more due to his displeased scrutiny of his captives.

  He didn't say anything as he glared down at Abbas. It was as though he simply revealed his face to show that he was not afraid and that he was in charge. Abbas glared back at him, and Mackenzie was amazed at how, even in a situation like this, Abbas managed to maintain an aura of command. That he was the one in charge and this man with the cleft lip didn't frighten him. Mackenzie wished she could be like that, because her heart was hammering so hard from fear that it was starting to hurt.

  "You in charge of these men?" Abbas demanded of the man.

  "I'm asking the questions," the man snapped. His accent was thick and Mackenzie couldn't quite place it. It was perhaps Eastern European, maybe Ukrainian. Either way, he spoke without compassion, as though each word was spat with the intention of cutting the one he spoke to. "You will answer."

  "You want answers, so do I," Abbas replied calmly, though still with a cold edge to his voice. "I'll answer your questions, but first I want to know who I'm talking to."

  The cleft lip man studied Abbas carefully, like someone trying to figure out if he held a better hand in a poker game than his opponent.

  "I ask, then you ask," the man finally replied. "In turns, yes? To answer your question, I am Mikhail Boroslav. I command these men. You clearly command yours, as you are the only one speaking to me. Tell me your name."

  "I'm Kian Abbas," Abbas said. "What did you do to us?"

  At this question, the man named Boroslav nearly smiled.

  "Taser rounds," he replied. "Delivers twelve-hundred volts of electricity to target on impact. They're non-lethal, but can incapacitate an enemy from a safe distance. So as to minimise danger to ourselves. Though it does not completely eliminate the danger to me and my men."

  At this, two other men appeared, dragging a third between them. They dropped the limp man on the ground beside Boroslav and stepped back quickly, as though they didn't want to be close to the man with the cleft lip for too long.

  Mackenzie looked at the man on the ground and stifled a gasp. The man was dead, the blood dampening his hood a clear sign that he had taken a shot to the head. Everyone was silent as the surprise of this sudden appearance sunk in.

  Boroslav didn't even spare a glance for his fallen comrade. Instead, he never took his eyes away from Abbas, but pointed down at the body beside him.

  "Who killed this man?" Boroslav asked, his expression and tone blank.

  Abbas remained silent. Mackenzie knew he was trying to think of a safe answer. Mackenzie knew that Lowe had started shooting when they were attacked. It was a safe bet that the bullet that had killed this man came from Lowe's gun.

  "Did you forget the rules?" Boroslav asked, his voice now softer, though infinitely more dangerous. "I ask, you answer. Then you ask and I answer. It is my turn to ask a question, which you will answer. So I ask again... Who killed this man?"

  Still Abbas said nothing. Boroslav suddenly lashed out and kicked Abbas in the chin, whipping his head to the side and almost knocking him down.

  "Hey!" Mackenzie snapped angrily, but didn't move.

  "It was me," Lowe said at the same time.

  "Lowe, shut up!" Abbas hissed, wiping blood from his mouth.

  Boroslav snapped his fingers at Lowe, pointing at him. "Come here."

  Lowe slowly rose to his feet, keeping his hands raised where everyone could see them. He walked cautiously towards Boroslav, who gestured for him to hurry up.

  Once Lowe was standing beside him, Boroslav placed a hand on Lowe's shoulder and sighed heavily, waving a hand down at the body before them.

  "Why did you kill this man, my friend?" Boroslav asked.

  "It was self defence," Lowe replied evenly, though Mackenzie noticed his hand shake slightly. "You were all shooting at us, I was trying to protect my squad."

  "Hmm," Boroslav said thoughtfully. "Yes. I understand the need to protect your men. All of these men are under my command, but also under my protection. They follow me because I promise their safekeeping but when I cannot keep that promise, it upsets me, it upsets me a great deal. Lowe is your name?"

  Lowe swallowed hard and nodded.

  "I see you are a soldier, Lowe," Boroslav went on casually. "You have that look. That pride. That way of carrying yourself. I'm a soldier, too. And my men are important to me. You took one of them today. That upsets me."

  "I-" Lowe began, but never got the chance to finish his sentence.

  With one swift movement, fast and ferocious, Boroslav grabbed hold of Lowe's forehead and tilted his head backwards, exposing Lowe's throat. In the same movement, Boroslav bared his teeth, snarling like a rabid wolf, and sunk his teeth into Lowe's throat.

  "NO!" Mackenzie screamed.

  "Stop!"

  "What are you doing!?"

  Everyone was shouting, screaming, as Boroslav shook his head like a dog, ripping into Lowe's flesh. Jesse tried leaping to his feet again, b
ut immediately fell when one of the strange men shot him with the taser round again, causing him to convulse on the ground, helpless to do anything. Other men rushed in and pushed Mackenzie and the others onto their stomachs, then held them down under their boots, guns aimed at the backs of their heads. Mackenzie lifted her gaze just enough to be able to see what was happening.

  Lowe was staring up at the sky in surprise, his mouth gaping as he clawed at Boroslav's shaved head, trying to make him stop. Boroslav responded by sinking his teeth in deeper and shaking his head violently. Blood was spraying between his teeth, covering his face and running down both his and Lowe's chests, streaming to the ground.

  Finally, Boroslav ripped out a chunk of flesh from Lowe's throat and pulled back, spitting out the flesh and blood as he watched Lowe with his eyes narrowed in scrutiny and the lower half of his face completely covered in blood.

  "Lowe!" Abbas was crying. "Lowe! No!"

  Lowe was staring back at Boroslav, his mouth opening and closing, his eyes wide in horror and surprise. He raised a hand as though he was going to touch the gaping hole in his throat, but he already seemed too weak. He dropped to his knees, his eyes becoming glassy and unfocused. Then he collapsed backwards, looking up at the sky with fear in his eyes.

  Mackenzie watched helplessly as she could see his breath bubbling through his blood. The choking sounds he made as he struggled to breathe were like a man drowning. Finally, Lowe stopped moving and his blood stopped bubbling. Mackenzie saw his body go limp and knew it was over.

  "You son of a bitch!" Mackenzie screamed up at Boroslav, tears in her eyes. She struggled to push up against the boot holding her down, but the man only pushed harder and forced her face into the dirt, filling her mouth with sand. "Why!?"

  "Your man for my man," Boroslav said calmly, wiping his mouth with a piece of cloth. "The way of a soldier."

  "You're not a soldier," Bell spat. "You're a murderer! He was unarmed! He didn't threaten you! You're nothing but a murdering piece of shit!"

  "What part of what just happened makes you think I value your opinion?" Boroslav asked calmly. "Or care for your lives? Any of you?"

  "I'll kill you," Jesse snarled, still struggling to push himself up from under the boot of the man holding him down. "You son of a bitch, I'll rip your heart out and shove it down your throat!"

  Boroslav reached behind his back and calmly pulled out a pistol, at the same time giving a small gesture to his men with his other hand. The men holding Jesse, Mackenzie, Abbas and Bell down all immediately yanked them to their feet and pinned their arms behind their backs, holding them immobile. Boroslav approached Jesse and pressed the barrel of the gun against Jesse's temple. Jesse immediately froze when he felt the cold steel against his head, but he was still breathing heavily as his rage fought against his common sense.

  "What is your name?" Boroslav demanded quietly.

  "Screw you," Jesse hissed.

  Boroslav raised the gun and smacked Jesse in the forehead with the grip, the thud making Mackenzie cringe.

  "Your name," Boroslav said simply.

  "Sorry," Jesse replied, grinning at Boroslav with contempt. "Can you repeat the question?"

  Boroslav smacked Jesse in the face with the gun again, splitting his cheek open.

  "Your name," Boroslav said.

  Smack! He hit Jesse again.

  "Your name," Boroslav repeated.

  Smack! Jesse was backhanded across the other cheek, his head whipping to the side.

  "Your name," Boroslav said again, still obscenely calm, even as he continued to slap Jesse around.

  "Leave him alone!" Bell shouted.

  "Stop!" Mackenzie cried, trying to pull her arms free from the men holding her back.

  "I will stop only when he answers me," Boroslav said without looking at Mackenzie, striking Jesse again for good measure. "Your name."

  Jesse was beginning to sway on his feet as Boroslav struck him again and again. His cheek looked red and like it was beginning to swell. Blood was oozing out of open wounds on his cheek, his lip, his forehead, and Boroslav still hit him again and again.

  "Stop it!" Abbas roared. "I'll tell you our names!"

  "His name's Jesse!" Mackenzie shouted desperately, fighting against the strong hold the two men on either side of her had on her arms.

  "I want only him to tell me," Boroslav countered.

  "Just tell him!" Mackenzie screamed and Jesse, damning his hotheadedness. "Tell him and he'll stop!"

  Jesse looked over at Mackenzie, now only standing thanks to the two men holding him up. Despite the beating he was taking, he managed a small smile at Mackenzie, blood dripping from a long string on his lip until it broke and fell to the ground.

  Boroslav, who had his hand raised and was about to strike Jesse again, glanced over at Mackenzie as Jesse looked at her. He grinned, his teeth stained with Lowe's blood, then looked back to Jesse.

  "If you do not tell me your name," Boroslav said quietly to Jesse, "then I will shoot the girl."

  Boroslav then raised his pistol and aimed it at Mackenzie.

  "Your-"

  "Jesse," Jesse replied weakly, but quickly. "Jesse Greaves."

  Boroslav looked at him in surprise, then lowered the gun. "That was far easier than I expected. I thought you would fight me a little more, perhaps let me put a bullet in the girl's leg before you spoke. Well done. Perhaps you are not as stupid as I first thought."

  Boroslav finally stepped away from Jesse, no longer interested in tormenting him. He began walking slowly towards Mackenzie, but he slowed as he passed Bell.

  "Your name," he said softly to her.

  "Rebecca Bell," Bell replied, her voice quivering with rage. Her eyes flitted from Boroslav to Lowe's body and she fought once to break an arm free, but the men holding her wouldn't budge.

  "And you," Boroslav began, standing in front of Mackenzie, a foot taller than her. "Pretty one. Your name, if you please."

  "Mackenzie," Mackenzie replied. "Mackenzie Miller."

  Boroslav cocked his head slightly to one side, completing Mackenzie's impression of him as a dog. That sharp tooth was poking out between his cleft lip, still shining with Lowe's blood. Mackenzie wanted nothing more than to reach out and knock that tooth out of his head, but knew even if she somehow managed to break out of the armlock she was in, the men around her would stop her. Assuming Boroslav didn't just rip out her throat like he did to poor Lowe.

  "Miller, you say?" Boroslav asked. "Like the famous Captain Stephen Miller?"

  Mackenzie heard the contemptuous way Boroslav said 'Captain' and hesitated before replying.

  "He was my grandfather," Mackenzie finally said.

  "Was he now?" Boroslav asked, his voice barely loud enough for Mackenzie to hear.

  Boroslav stared at Mackenzie for a long while, and Mackenzie forced herself to stare back at him, despite the fear she felt choking her. She didn't like the way he was looking at her, studying her up and down. It was similar to the way a wolf stares at a wounded deer, moments before tearing it apart.

  After what seemed like forever staring into those dark, soulless, eyes, Mackenzie sighed in relief as Boroslav turned away.

  "You are Diviners," Boroslav stated loudly for everyone to hear. "But I count only five of you, including our friend Mr Lowe. Diviners always travel in a team of six. Where is the sixth?"

  There was only silence to meet Boroslav's question.

  "Must I ask again?" Boroslav asked impatiently.

  "Dead," Abbas replied stiffly. "A few days ago now."

  "Hmm," Boroslav said thoughtfully. "I have no reason to believe you."

  "Why would I lie?" Abbas demanded. "Where could we be hiding anyone?"

  "Search the truck," Boroslav ordered some of his men, who reacted at once, hurrying towards the truck and vanishing inside, one person in each segment.

  "How do you know about Diviners?" Mackenzie asked before realizing she was speaking aloud. "We don't know w
ho the hell you people are, we didn't even know anyone could live out here! How do you know about us?"

  "Ah, that is a question best answered by another," Boroslav replied, smiling his snarling-dog smile at her.

  "Master Boroslav!" came a shout from the truck.

  All eyes turned in time to see a bodybag fall out of the cold storage door and collapse heavily to the ground. The bag had been unzipped somewhat, just enough to reveal Vasseur's lifeless face.

  "Vasseur!" Boroslav crowed in triumph.

  Everyone stared at Boroslav in stunned silence, watching him stand over Vasseur's body.

  "You know him?" Abbas asked, incredulously.

  "Of course," Boroslav sneered. "He was to bring us an offering. As he had done in the past, many times."

  Abbas frowned in confusion and Mackenzie stared at Boroslav as though not believing he was really there. Jesse was breathing heavily, still barely standing, but it was Bell who spoke first.

  "What do you mean by 'an offering'?" Bell asked, her eyes narrowing.

  "Well, I'm not certain on all of the details," Boroslav said casually, slowly approaching Bell. "But the short answer is... you."

  Boroslav then turned away from Bell, seemingly amused by her stunned expression. Pointing at two of his men he barked, "You two, on the truck! Drive it back to base. Tell Scylla we're on our way with captives."

  "Scylla?" Mackenzie whispered to Abbas, who was standing beside her, a worried and grief-stricken scowl on his face. Abbas was still looking at Lowe's body, his eyes full of remorse.

  "Everyone else!" Boroslav boomed, baring his teeth at Mackenzie and the others. "Bind their hands! We walk!"

  Mackenzie cried out in protest as she felt her arms forced behind her back and strong plastic ties were closed around her wrists, keeping them forced painfully together. She heard Abbas and Bell also protest as they were also restrained, but Jesse roared curses at the men as loud as he could, despite the beating he had just taken at the hand of Boroslav. As the men began to shove Mackenzie and the others along, and two men climbed into the truck to drive it along behind them all, Boroslav stood over Vasseur's body, looking down at him with an apparent expression of curiosity. Then he reached inside his clothes and retrieved a small device, roughly the size and shape of a large chicken egg. It was completely black, except for a small ring around it's middle, which was colored red. Even as Mackenzie was being shoved along, she watched Boroslav twist the ring in his fingers, then drop the egg-shaped device into the bodybag with Vasseur. He turned on his heel and began marching with the rest of the group, though when he noticed Mackenzie watching him, he bared his teeth in what must have been his version of a grin, though his eyes were narrowed and cruel.

  Suddenly, there was a resonating bass shaking the air and Mackenzie saw Vasseur's body instantly go up in flames, along with the area five feet around him. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she saw the bodybag bubble and melt in the intense heat, the flames licking over Vasseur's corpse and charring his flesh. Despite being a safe distance from the flames, Mackenzie still felt the heat on her face, pinching her skin and stinging her eyes.

  Boroslav walked straight up to Mackenzie, not sparing a single glance over his shoulder at the towering flames. He stood over Mackenzie, staring down at her with his bared-teeth grin. Mackenzie forced herself to look in his eyes, and not at his cleft lip. She longed to reach out and hurt this man; for Lowe, for Vasseur, whose body he just desecrated. For everyone, so they might all get away with their lives before Boroslav decided they weren't worth keeping around.

  "Yes?" Boroslav asked, noticing the furious way Mackenzie was staring at him. How she seemed to be shaking with the effort it took to keep from lashing out at him. "Did you have something you wanted to say to me?"

  Mackenzie wanted to tell him exactly what she thought of him. That he was a monster, a murderer, a sadistic psychopath who deserved to die, but she held her tongue. Instead, she averted her gaze and looked down at the ground, feeling weak and pathetic. She wished she had even a fraction of Jesse's courage, so that she could work up the nerve to spit in this monster's face, consequences be damned. But all she could do was look away.

  "I thought not," Boroslav sneered.

  "What do you want with us?" Abbas demanded, pulling Boroslav's attention away from Mackenzie. "We have nothing of use to you."

  "You may be more useful than you realize," Boroslav replied cryptically. "That is up to Scylla to decide."

  "You just murdered a friend of ours," Abbas snarled. "Even if we are somehow useful, what makes you think we'd be willing to help this Scylla person? If they're even half as deranged as you are, then they can go straight to hell, because I refuse to work with insane people. And anyone who would allow a monster like you to run free must be either crazy or stupid."

  Boroslav swiftly pulled out his pistol and aimed it at Abbas' chest, his eyes narrowed in fury.

  "Do not insult Scylla again," Boroslav said quietly, though he sounded far more dangerous saying this than anything else he had said so far. "Scylla is a great leader. You will show the appropriate respect or I will shoot a hole in your head and scoop out your tiny brain with my bare hands."

  Abbas lifted his chin defiantly. "I suppose you make up in loyalty what you lack in appearance."

  Boroslav bared his teeth in a vicious snarl, then began to squeeze the trigger.

  "Wait!" Mackenzie cried, throwing herself between Boroslav and Abbas without thinking. The gun was pointing directly at her face, now. "We'll go see Scylla. We won't fight you. No one else has to die."

  Boroslav looked at Mackenzie in surprise, then threw back his head and roared with laughter.

  "You are saved, Mr Abbas!" Boroslav laughed, holstering his gun. "Your pretty friend amuses me. Fine, we go now. But no one argues, no one fights. Or I shoot someone. Understand?"

  "Yes," Abbas replied begrudgingly.

  And so they all began to walk, following the river upstream, to meet with the person known as Scylla.