Adult themes, people. Sexual content and violence. May be triggering for some readers.

Only Shadows Ahead

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The sun has set. Dusk has settled and the farm is quiet. The employees have headed home for the day but a few stragglers remain. Her view from the barn is restricted, but the silo is visible in the back corner of the property.

She knows she shouldn't be here alone.

She's been warned, begged and pleaded with not to wander off when undertaking work on any property belonging to Plunder, but she just needs a small sample of grain. The vial is clutched in her hand, ready to be filled.

It'll take just a moment.

A moment of reflection gives way to impulse. Linka passes between the doors and streaks across the paddock. The silo looms large in the distance — a small tool shed sits beside it. Metal drums and containers are scattered around the silo ladder and she heads towards it, increasing her pace until she hits the wall. She flattens herself against the metal and crouches down, catching her breath.

She's not alerted to his presence until it's too late.

A hand winds itself into the hair at the nape of her neck. Her head is yanked back violently and she nearly overbalances. She gasps, clenching her fingers into a fist. Linka raises her ring blindly but it's too late.

She feels the impact. Agonising pain flares through her temple as she's slammed face-first into the metallic drum. The lid bounces off and the drum overturns, spilling grain onto the ground. Her body drops heavily and she barely registers her ring being removed and tossed away. The vial is long gone, crushed under a heavy work boot that is currently too close to her face for comfort.

She rolls over, clutching her forehead in agony — dazed and registering the presence of blood. She feels those hands again, slipping under her armpits and hauling her to her feet.

The smell of alcohol and sweat are overpowering. Her heart pounds in her chest, knowing without a doubt that Andrei Kroi has found her. She's screaming for help now but his hand quickly covers her mouth, muffling her voice. The other hand wraps around her waist and she's lifted off her feet and spirited away inside the shed.

She squeals in terror as he kicks the door shut behind him and drags her into the middle.

It's dark in here. So dark.

The air is heavy with silt and she is alone in this dark prison with him — at his mercy. Her stomach falls away as she processes the knowledge that after the months of leers, threats and harassment, he means to hurt her.

He means to rape her.

Kroi flings her to the floor, sending her sprawling. She's quickly on her hands and knees, scrambling to her feet as she stumbles forward, kicking up dust in her wake. Trying to dodge and avoid him, but it's too dark. She can't see where she's going.

She heads for what she thinks is the door. She can just see the rectangular gaps illuminated by the moonlight outside.

But she's injured, and he's simply too fast for her. Kroi grabs hold of her hair again, and she cries out as he drags her back against him. His meaty forearm winds tightly around her neck. Scratching and clawing at his arm, she tries desperately to relieve the pressure as he sinks to his knees on the ground, pulling her downwards until she's forced into his lap.

Kroi shoves Linka forward and she tumbles face-first into the dirt. He's able to anchor her in place with a knee pressing hard into her shoulder blades. He's come prepared. Grabbing her wrists, he uses cable-ties to bind them behind her back, ignoring her pleading and crying.

"Get off me!" she cries; her words muffled and lost amongst the grit and sediment.

"Ya tebya khochu," he growls. He grips her shoulders and flips her over onto her back. She can just see the outline of his face now bearing down on her. "Krasivaya devushka."

He's breathing heavily, rough and impatient. Nails scratching her skin and fabric tearing as he rips her cotton shirt apart and tugs it down her shoulders until it's laying in tatters around her waist.

"WHEELER!" she screams at the top of her lungs, hoping and praying that he's nearby. The other Planeteers aren't even a consideration. Kroi's past behaviour around her had already raised alarm bells with her rather protective team-mate — not that she had ever thought it would lead to this. She cries out, unable to stop him from ripping the flimsy bra straps from her trembling shoulders.

"WHEELER!"

Her bra is tossed aside and she moans as Kroi's hand clamps over her mouth again to stifle any further sound.

His free hand presses down painfully on her bare breast and she's weeping now. No more strong, independent woman in control of her destiny. She's now reduced to a bleeding, bound mess — half naked and kicking her legs wildly as his mouth clamps down on her neck, biting and licking her skin as he grunts above her.

A knee presses between her thighs and she squeezes them shut as tightly as she can, trying to wriggle away. Removing his hand from her mouth for a moment, she hitches her breath to scream again and he slaps her hard, causing her face to whip to the right.

Tears spring forth as he grabs the hem of her shorts. She retaliates violently, kicking with all her might and this time he clenches his fist and punches her. She shrieks in pain, her cheek-bone throbbing as he forces her knees apart and positions himself between them. The jangle of a belt buckle can be a heard over the scuffle; tears streaming down her face as she renews her efforts to dislodge him, screaming into the meaty flesh of his hand.

He strikes her again: a right hook to the stomach that leaves her slumped and winded. Linka groans, dazed as he falls on top of her, Kroi is breathing heavily now, grinding the length of his body against her. Whispering in Russian what he's planning on doing to her, in graphic detail.

Kroi's hands are rough. One is back over her mouth, and now that she's anchored in place, the other starts to roam. Tears are streaming down her cheeks as he presses his hand between her legs. She gives an anguished howl against his palm as he shoves his hand beneath the waistband of the shorts slung low around her hips.

The light changes. It is barely discernible but Kroi is too distracted to notice.

A flash of movement. Running footsteps and a bellow of undiluted rage. Linka screams as something impacts upon Kroi's back. His full body weight pitches forward, crushing Linka as the breath is squeezed from her lungs.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

Kroi quickly recovers himself and stumbles to his feet, kicking up dirt and dust that settles over Linka's still body. There's a scuffle going on beside her — a violent, twisting mass of shadows in the gloom, but there's no mistaking the sound of a fist hitting flesh. Two, three, four more strikes.

Kroi keels over sideways, landing heavily in the dirt. The struggle continues, however — repeated blows reigning down on her attacker just a few feet away.

Linka rolls heavily onto her side. Her breath is coming in short gasps. She squeezes her eyes shut, curling into a foetal position — knees tucked towards her bare chest. She can taste blood and dirt in her mouth, and her face and jaw are aching.

She hears a final blow levelled before all falls silent, save for her own ragged breathing.

"Lin?"

Wheeler's voice. Gentle hands touch her face, stroking the matted hair from her forehead and eyes — in direct contrast to the fury they unleashed on the man laying unconscious a few feet away. His fingers brush her bare shoulder. The contact is brief: it's gone again, almost as if he's cottoned on to the fact that her clothes are torn and strewn around the ground around them.

"Babe, are you okay?" There's a raw edge of panic in his voice. "Did he hurt you?

He's on his knees, crouched over her. She's still too stunned to answer. He removes his jacket and drapes it over her upper body.

"Lin, can you hear me?"

She nods tearfully. It's all she can do. Her voice has failed.

She flexes the hands still bound behind her back. He realises her predicament and makes short work of melting the plastic tie now embedded within her skin. He's slow and meticulous, careful not to burn her wrists. The jacket is slipping downward towards the ground and once she is released, she clutches it to her chest with trembling fingers.

She pushes herself up with her free hand, and he drops to his knees in front of her, helping her into a sitting position. Dizziness hits her, followed by a sudden wave of nausea. It's unexpected. Linka crumples forward as she vomits onto the dusty ground.

Wheeler slumps to the floor beside her, holding her hair away from her face as she dry-retches once more. She steadies herself finally, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and staring at Kroi's prone figure.

"Babe, did he hurt you?"

She wants to cry yes. Yes, he beat me and slapped me and touched me. He pulled my hair and drew blood. But she knows that's not what he means.

"Linka?"

"Nyet." Linka shakes her head. She's barely audible and Wheeler has to lean forward in order to hear. "It is fine. I am fine. He did not get far."

"Fucking bastard," he snarls, glaring in Kroi's direction. "Gonna rip his heart out, piece of shit."

Wheeler's ring is lit with a soft glow as he inspects her face, clearly horrified as the full extent of her injuries becomes apparent. The veins are standing out in his neck, and she can see he's struggling to maintain his composure.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill him."

"I am fine, Wheeler," she responds. Her voice is stronger now — the initial shock has worn off. Her hands seek out the tender areas around her face, prodding the swollen and split skin. "Really, I am fine."

"Maybe I should get Gi down here, babe," he says, gesturing helplessly towards her dirt-covered legs and torn clothing. "I'm probably not the best… the last person you'd want… I mean with… you know."

He moves to raise his ring but she grips his wrist and lowers it. She's not ready. Not ready for explanations and pity. Not ready to face the others.

"Just give me a moment," she says softly, hastily wiping away more tears tracking down her cheeks. Wheeler seems hesitant — perhaps nervous about increasing any further physical contact due to the circumstances. "I am… I need a moment."

"I don't..." He seems at a loss, still processing what has gone down. "What can I do?"

She glances down, noting the swollen knuckles and abrasions on his own hands, illuminated by the light of his ring.

Her face crumples. She reaches for him, twisting and winding her arms around his neck, settling her cheek against his; seeking him out with a heavy sigh. She buries her face in Wheeler's throat; her tears hot against his skin.

"I am sorry," she moans. "I should not have gone off on my own."

"Not your fault," he says softly. Wheeler shakes his head, readjusting the jacket that's slipping down between them. She hasn't noticed. Linka tightens her grip, squeezing her eyes shut as she breaks down.

"That fuckin' hole in the sky look bigger to you?"

"Yep."

Bleak stuffed his hands into his pockets, spotting a large rock in the field they were currently cutting through. He took a few running steps and launched an impressive kick, sending it flying into the air.

"Great," he muttered, glaring up at the glistening ripple that had indeed widened over the course of the past week. "Stupid fuckin' future."

"Little ray of sunshine, aren't ya?"

The petite freckle-faced pixie was peering at him curiously. Greta or Gracie? He couldn't remember her name for sure. Didn't care, really.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you right back, dude," she replied, glaring at him.

Bleak couldn't help but smirk. He respected a woman with attitude. He nodded towards the forlorn little Water Planeteer walking alone some twenty feet in front of them. "What's her problem?"

"World's gone to shit. Lost her best friend. No way of knowing if her family are alive. Stuck with you." Pixie-Girl shrugged. "She's down."

Bleak grunted. "Gotta get over it. Toughen up. Can't let feelings overrule you."

"As opposed to you? Completely devoid of empathy or emotion? Linka told me some of —"

"I am not devoid of emotion, ya little twerp."

"My fucking leather boot has a greater emotional range than you, Bleak," she bit back. "You think you have it all together? Need to wake up and smell the roses."

"There are no fucking roses."

"Oh holy hell," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You don't miss anything, do you?"

"I don't miss nothin'."

"What's my fuckin' name, Einstein?"

Bleak stared at her for a moment, floored. "It's Greta, right?"

"Oh man. No. It's not." The pixie chuckled, shaking her head. She stopped, dropping her bag to the ground and stretching her arms behind her back, ironing out the kinks. "Grace."

"That was my second guess," he muttered as he waited for her. She bent down, retrieving her drink bottle from the side pocket and downing half of the contents. "Where ya from, kid?"

"Philadelphia. Originally, anyway," she replied. "You?"

"All over," he said. "No fixed address. I go where the boss goes."

"The boss, huh?" she said. Grace folded her arms, watching him curiously. "If we succeed in gettin' you home —you gonna go back to that life?"

"Dunno," he said, not quite meeting her eyes. He stared sullenly at the ground, kicking a clump of weeds with the tip of his shoe. "Torn between settling back into routine — and slittin' Plunder's throat and ridin' off into the sunset."

"Uh huh," she said again. "Charming. Employee of the year, right there."

Bleak shrugged. "Just bein' honest."

They resumed walking — dipping under the wire fence and back on the highway again. "Why would you consider going back? I mean, after all you know now?"

"Good money."

Grace groaned. "Your boss washed his hands of you. Both in your timeline and here. Linka mentioned that the 'future' you didn't survive. You think that's a coincidence? What if your fucking boss ordered it? Wanted you replaced? Maybe you became a liability?"

"Maybe I became a guitar-totin' yodelling preacher? Maybe I switched industries? Quit the merc business and went into manufacturing fuckin' barbie dolls?" He scoffed. "Why stop there, may—"

"You married?"

"What?"

"Married?" she asked, scrunching up her face. Bleak blinked, struggling to keep up with the rapid change in direction. "Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Into animals? Favourite call-girl?"

"Why?"

"Just makin' conversation," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Anyone special back at home?"

Bleak smirked. "Got a few regular girls. A few on the side… yeah. I do all right."

"Regular Romeo," she said. "On second thought, don't tell me. I don't wanna know."

"You asked."

"So you're a merc? Like a mercenary? You killed anyone?"

"Yeah."

"What's your weapon of choice?"

"Fuck, you ask a lot of questions."

"Humor me."

"Jesus," he spat, eyeing the girl warily. "I've got a couple of long-range rifles. For times when it's up close and personal, though — Smith and Wesson 9mm."

"Uh huh," she said. "No idea what that is. Other than it's a gun."

"And you know how to shoot that thing?" he asked, nodding towards the bow slung over Grace's shoulder. "You accurate?"

"Hell no," she answered. "I aim for the head and get the kneecap of the guy six feet away."

"Gimme a look?"

"Um…" She suddenly looked unsure. "Yeah, I dunno."

"Blondie's filled you in, huh?"

"Yeah."

He grunted. "If I wanted 'em dead, they'd be dead already."

"Fair enough."

They walked along in silence for a while. Bleak folded his arms across his chest, glaring at the pompous, arrogant prick several hundred feet in front of him. Tom was still barking orders at everyone around him. Taking it upon himself to lead this 'mission'. The jerk was a model of superiority — even though he didn't deserve the self-proclaimed title.

He sighed, glancing up again at the jagged rip glistening above him. A slight breeze wafted past and he settled his eyes on the road ahead. A row of cars were lined up just in front of where Tom and three others were heading. It looked like an old toll-booth station. All but one of the toll booths were blocked, meaning access was limited.

Bleak's ears pricked. He halted, flinging his arm out and stopping Grace in her tracks.

"Wha—"

"Shhh." Bleak's eyes scanned the area carefully. The configuration of the cars. The bottle-neck effect they would cause for any travellers passing through. The booth on stilts further back to the right he had just wandered past. Seemingly empty.

Bleak glanced back, staring at at the booth again.

Fuckin' look-out.

Bleak's mouth went dry.

"Gimme your bow, kid."

"What? Why?"

"For fuck's sake," he spat. He had no time to pander to her. Bleak reefed the bow from her shoulder and pushed her hard, sending Grace spinning into the overgrown shrubs lining the highway. "Stay down."

"What's going —"

"Stay down," he repeated. His mouth tightened, watching the Water Planeteer still wandering along idly between himself and Tom. He picked up a rock and tossed it into the air, trying to get her to turn around. It bounced to a stop beside her but she merely glanced at it.

"Hey! You! Water!" he hissed, trying to keep his voice down, not wanting to draw attention to himself. "Oi!"

"Hey Gi!" Grace called, still hidden in the shrubs. Her voice was remarkably calm and Bleak had to give her props for keeping it low-key. "Come here!"

Gi turned, hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes at Bleak. Searching for Grace's disembodied voice still calling out to her.

"Get over here, kid," Bleak said loudly through gritted teeth. "Now."

"Bleak, I swear to God," Gi said, turning and walking back towards them. "I'm really not in the mood for your —"

The sound of a bullet ricocheting caused Gi to freeze, looking around in confusion.

"MOVE IT, KID!" he bellowed and Gi broke into a run, sprinting towards him. Shouts echoed from the toll booth and Bleak crouched down in the shrubs, watching Tom and the others drawing their weapons and forming defensive positions.

A dozen men suddenly leapt out from the toll booths, converging on the unfortunate souls at the front. Half of the attackers broke off and started heading towards himself and the girls.

"Shit." He grabbed Gi by the shirt as she reached him, shoving her roughly down next to Grace. He pointed towards the valley. "Head in that directon. Spotted a steeple in the distance that way. Probably a church. Keep down and wait for me there. I'll come find you."

"Where are you going?" Gi hissed.

"Gonna take a few of these clowns out and grab their weapons." He loaded the bow and aimed, releasing the string with practiced ease. Grace watched on as one of the raiders hit the ground. "We need the fucking map. Go!"

They didn't need another reminder. A bullet whizzed past and the girls fled into the long grass hand in hand.

"How far to the museum?"

"Not far," Kwame said. He was sitting with his head in his hands, perched sideways within the passenger seat of a second-hand pick-up truck. A red "SALE!" sticker was splashed across the windshield of the vehicle inside the showroom. "Maybe an hour."

"We got a plan?"

"No plan," Kwame said. He sounded grim, almost defeated. "We just get in there and find him."

"You reckon they'll be waitin' for us?"

"Yes."

Wheeler rubbed his face tiredly, glancing at Linka. She was stretched out on a sofa, dozing in the administration office of the car-yard. He could see her blonde hair trailing down onto the floor — her arm bent back and resting over her face.

Wheeler passed around the vehicle and dropped into the drivers seat next to him, leaning back and running his hands over the wheel.

A piece of paper was scrunched up within the center console and Wheeler glanced at it, curious. Recognising it from the highway, the one Kwame was clutching after they'd found the first body.

He picked it up and unfolded it, immediately recognising the SAIP symbol at the bottom.

Kwame raised his head, watching Wheeler read the untidy, almost manic scrawl.

Wanda has been delivered from her sins.

Her soul has been purged.

Cast forth, free to dance with my beloved,

Until the eternal light cleanses all.

"Fuckin' hell," he said aloud, his mouth dropping open. "You kiddin' me? Blight?"

"I think it is safe to say that Barbara Blight has officially entered the realm of insanity."

"Blight's lost the fuckin' plot," Wheeler said, staring hard at the loopy letter formation. "Her soul has been purged?"

Kwame straightened, leaning back and turning his body towards Wheeler. "I think getting inside the museum will be relatively easy. They need us to locate Cap and return him. Once we do that, all bets are off. I think getting out will be the hardest part."

"Agreed. What do ya wanna —"

"We will need to split up at that point and go. Fast. Even when we regain our powers, we cannot risk them capturing all three of us. I am also concerned about what Blight may do to Linka. She has obviously carried a lot of rage that would have only increased over the years." Kwame gestured towards the paper still clutched within Wheeler's hand.

Wheeler frowned, glancing again at her sleeping figure. "You think Blight might —"

"The woman is unstable, she has severe impulse control problems and is delusional and psychotic. Regardless of the fact she has brought Linka back for a specific purpose, I am still worried that Blight may be unable to control herself."

"All right," Wheeler said, his voice low. What do —"

"I need you to promise me something."

Wheeler fixed his blue eyes on Kwame. "Yeah?"

"You don't wait for me. You don't wait for any of the others. If things start going downhill, you grab her and you head for Nevada."

"Jesus, Kwame, I —"

"You don't wait for me. All right?"

Wheeler stared back at him, clearly unhappy. "We can't power the machine without all five rings, you—"

"She needs me there as much as the rest of you. I would simply prefer to limit the damage and decrease her bargaining power. And having Blight kill your wife a second time and damning us all to a much shorter life expectancy does not appeal to me."

"All right."

"If the situation arises, don't wait for me. For any of us."

Wheeler sighed heavily. "Got it."

Kwame stretched his arm across, gripping Wheeler's shoulder and smiling fondly at the American. "Regardless of the horrendous existence we have found ourselves in, it delights me to see the two of you together again."

"Yeah," he answered, glancing down. "Just like old times, I guess."

The car lurched slightly as Kwame pushed himself to his feet. "Let us get this over with, shall we?"

Wheeler nodded. He climbed out of the car and walked towards the office to wake the girl dozing peacefully within.