CHAPTER THREE #2
“It’s something about the new guy,” Griffin said before Apollo could.
“It’s nothin’. Don’t get all worried,” Apollo assured.
“I’ll worry when I want to,” Renee stated. “Promise you’ll tell me if anything strange happens.”
“Yeah, like you dragging the Dick-tective away and bending him over the nearest hard surface,” Griffin chuckled.
“Not everything is about sex, brother,” Renee scolded. “Wait, you’ve got a thing for the detective?”
“No. Shit. All I said was that he intrigues me.” Apollo was sorry he’d even said that.
“Yeah, intrigues you how fast you can get him in bed,” Griffin said.
“Seriously, let it go before I gut you,” Apollo warned and marched off toward the house before another word could be spoken.
“You could try.” Griffin laughed.
He had no idea what it was about Rocko that affected him, and he was damn sure he’d keep it to himself until he could pinpoint the cause.
After all, the other man still might be a danger to the team, and in that case, the gloves came off.
He’d never allow someone to endanger his team or their mission.
Without thought, he traced the raised scar running from his left elbow to his wrist. Not only had The Noah Project used risky and unstable genetic manipulation in its effort to create the perfect warrior, but sometimes they resorted to much cruder methods.
A phantom pain shot through his arm as his memories flooded back, attempting to drown him as they always did.
Metal bars and wires sat on a tray a few feet away from the table he’d woken up strapped to.
It wasn’t the location that struck him— after all, Apollo had been in this surgery numerous times over his first sixteen years of life, if that’s what you wanted to call it.
No, it wasn’t the room; it was the stranger wearing scrubs and unpacking equipment that he imagined belonged better in a slaughterhouse.
No one spoke to him; they never did. Apollo was simply a test subject, nothing more than a lab rat with an ever-looming expiration date.
As the man unpacked his tools, he inspected each with a calculated precision that suggested his familiarity with each and a sick union between the man and metal.
Apollo noticed lines had been drawn on his left forearm in black with numbers written every few inches.
He knew what the stranger was here to do.
He’d heard the screams of the others as the same procedure was done on their bodies.
As the stranger approached him, his twisted grin matched the implement of pain in his hand.
Apollo swore he wouldn’t scream. No matter how bad the pain got, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
Apollo had kept that promise that day and every day following.
No matter what the pain, he remained silent.
No matter what he suffered, he bore it alone.
The pain and destruction inflicted by the Noah Project and their group of wannabe world leaders was immeasurable, crossing all lines: geopolitical, economic, age, race, and location.
Who knew how many more survivors were out there, without the knowledge about how to manage their new abilities?
Protecting the survivors, and those on his team, was something he’d die for.
***
The rest of the evening went off without a hitch, and Apollo enjoyed a state of relaxation around the campfire he hadn’t had in a while. It gave him a sense of satisfaction to see what they’d built here.
Until basic structures and facilities had been built, they’d stayed in large fifth wheels and camping trailers that could temporarily provide what they needed for day-to-day life.
They’d been busy over the past year sourcing materials from contractors in Ticonderoga while performing the work themselves.
In remote areas like these, it wasn’t uncommon for people to build their own compounds from the ground up.
That ensured their group wouldn’t stand out among the many in upstate New York, hidden away in the tall forests and a wealth of wildlife, along the expansive waterways.
This location provided them direct access to Lake Champlain, which ran one hundred twenty miles north to south from Whitehall, New York, to the Richelieu River in Quebec, Canada.
It would come in handy when shuttling off survivors to start their new lives far from the Noah Group’s clutches.
He watched when Rocko was shown to his temporary lodgings, a trailer, far from the main house and Apollo.
The rest of the group retired for the night, and Apollo thought he’d do the same.
Hours later, lying in his comfortable bunk, he still wasn’t sleeping.
His mind was racing and all he had to look forward to was hours more of staring at the ceiling, willing himself to sleep.
Shit, was it too much to ask for one night of peace?
Perhaps he could go visit Rocko’s place and lie outside, use whatever weird ability the guy had to get a few hours of sleep…
Apollo growled loudly. No fucking way. He rolled onto his side and stared at the wall for forty minutes. No better. His mind sought out the peace offered by the stranger. He fought it. There was no way in hell he’d be giving in to this, whatever this was. No fuckin’ way.
***
“You okay?” a deep voice asked.
Apollo opened his eyes to find Rocko standing a few feet in front of him. The sun was up and he was sitting in a fucking chair in front of the man’s trailer. Shit. This must look a bit strange.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Rocko asked.
Apollo quickly scanned the area, shocked to find he was sitting outside the trailer he’d assigned to Rocko. How the fuck did he get here? Apollo glanced down and thankfully he at least had his clothes on. All he needed was to be sitting there buck naked.
Rocko looked as confused as Apollo felt. “Why are you sleeping in a lawn chair outside my trailer?”
“Uh.” Apollo stood, looking around, realizing he’d slept here through the night. That had never happened to him before in his bed, let alone sitting in an old lawn chair outside in the elements.
“Wait. I get it. You don’t have to guard me, you know. I swear I’m not here to hurt anyone,” Rocko said.
Huh. Apollo could roll with that until he figured out what the hell had happened to him.
“These people are my responsibility, and I take that very seriously,” he said, clearing his throat with authority, playing along in the deception. Did I sleepwalk? And sleep dress?
“Are you planning on sitting out here every night?” Rocko asked.
“If I have to,” Apollo growled, his frustration getting the better of him.
Apollo knew Brick would never send a threat to him and his people, and that Rocko could be trusted, but the fact that he’d somehow ended up outside the man’s trailer was a serious problem.
Was Rocko somehow controlling him? Was his confusion a front to make himself appear innocent?
Did Rocko have a power that even Brick wasn’t aware of?
“Then why the hell be so covert about it? Why don’t you come into my trailer and sleep in the second bedroom? It’s empty and a hell of a lot more comfortable than the cold ground.”
As Apollo stretched, he could feel his sore back and muscles, in agreement with Rocko. A warm bed would be a much better option, but was this part of Rocko’s plan? Whatever that plan might be.
“I’ll consider it. Let’s check what Rosaline has cooked for breakfast and start the day. We can revisit this later.” Once he figured out what was going on with him.
“Fine, it’s up to you, but again, I’m not a damn risk to you. I’m no threat to anyone other than the Noah Group. Those assholes I’d bury six feet deep.”
“That’s for me to decide. Let’s go.” Before this shit blew wide open and he’d have to put Rocko in the ground. Apollo couldn’t risk someone having control over him, especially with his varied and deadly abilities.
The two walked back to the main house, and more than one person shot them curious looks as they went by. What did he expect? Of course, his team would notice their early morning walk together back from Rocko’s trailer.
Around the kitchen table, as talk carried on, he could see the unasked questions in most of his people’s faces. What the hell was he going to say? Apollo had no idea how or when he got there. After a few more glances, Apollo had had enough and was about to speak when Rocko beat him to it.
“Okay, let’s deal with this. I swear I’m not a threat to anyone, but your ever-vigilant leader here finds it imperative to guard me at night to make sure I don’t cause shit.
Go run amok or fuck around the compound as everyone sleeps, or something messed up like that.
However, while finding him outside of my trailer guarding me was a bit of a piss off, I assure everyone it isn’t necessary. ”
“Oh, okay,” Hendrix grunted before shoving another piece of bacon in his mouth.
“That makes sense,” Damon agreed.
“That’s where you went to,” Ellen said. “I wondered.”
Ellen had noticed that he’d left, but he couldn’t exactly ask her what time that was without rousing suspicions. Apollo had to play along or admit he’d lost control over himself somehow. That wasn’t going to happen.
“Fine, I don’t mean to offend our guest, but I cannot in all good conscience allow someone who is essentially a stranger to wander around our compound unaccompanied until I’m positive he’s no threat to any of you.”
However, the expressions on Griffin’s and Renee’s faces said it plain that they weren’t buying into this convenient reasoning. Shit.
“We understand,” Rosaline said. “No insult to you, Rocko, but we’ve been through some serious and sad events.
We’ve lost members of our group. We’ve been attacked and had people captured.
Apollo is simply doing what he feels is safest for us.
We love him for that, and we all sleep a little easier at night knowing he’s out there watching over us. ”
Apollo almost choked on his guilt. If she only knew the truth and how well he’d slept last night, this would have been a completely different conversation. As it was, it would be better to leave it the way it was. Hell, how would he explain something he still didn’t have answers for himself?
“I’ve already told him that sitting out in the cold wasn’t necessary.
” Rocko huffed. “There’s a completely empty second bedroom in the trailer that I would have to pass on my way out the damn door.
He could stay warm and still keep an eye on me even if it’s not necessary.
” He took a drink of his coffee. “Which it’s not. ”
“That sounds like a better option, boss,” Blade said.
“Why freeze your ass off outside?” Jagger asked.
“You should do that,” Hendrix agreed.
“I’ll think about it. Now, let’s finish breakfast and get this day started. We need to get that fourth building completed before the livestock arrives.”
There was so much on his damn calendar that adding this new mystery was an uninvited issue he’d need to get cleared up sooner rather than later.
“Livestock?” Rocko asked.
“Yes,” Rosaline responded. “We’re bringing in some chickens and cows. There’s plenty of room, and then our food supply would be started on its way to self-sufficiency once we plant gardens this spring. It will take time, but someday we could make it happen.”
“Hmm, sounds like a good idea,” Rocko agreed. “I can help out with the building. I worked in construction for my uncle’s company while going through school.”
“I’m sure we could find something for you to do,” Apollo stated, digging into his food. The time for talking was over.
He’d spoken more this morning than on any other typical day. It was exhausting having to keep up with what society considered normal social behavior.
People had truly lost respect for solitude and silence.